A Haiku

some things of deceit
are autobiographies
telling bits not life

I Feel Like It's March Again

As I sit to write this, I am actively procrastinating. I have

• An unfinished 1500 word paper due tomorrow at 1
• An unstarted 3-page paper due Tuesday
• Unrehearsed guitar worship music for Tweens tomorrow night
• Unsubmitted poetry for the liberal arts magazine - deadline tomorrow
• Math quizzes and a lesson plan that needs to be sent in...due the 14th, so no biggy
• Music on the fife that needs practicing and
• a dress rehearsal on Saturday, at which I will learn new drilling, for the
• holiday concert my fife and drum corps is putting on on Sunday, about which I've been asked to 
• write an article for the Company of Fifers and Drummers magazine.
• A visit to the school I'm transferring to on Monday, to register for classes and get my ID photo taken
• A powerpoint presentation for Diversity class, about me, due on Wednesday
• Take-home exams for Diversity and Developmental Psychology that I'll get on Tuesday and Wednesday
• Finals starting.

Last time I was this busy, it was March, and we had CD recordings and theater production and I had a test and another college visit and another article for the magazine and I came down really sick for about 12 hours (before and after which I was totally fine). 

Oh, and I don't drink coffee. 

So for anyone out there who may have actually doubted this, yes, my insane schedule is actually insane, but mostly during finals. Prayers appreciated for all students...'tis the season...

Instrumental Pride!

My family went to see Tuba Christmas earlier. For those who, like me, are totally not part of the band world and have no idea what that is, that is an event where a bunch of tuba players rehearse together and publicly perform a bunch of Christmas music...on their tubas.

A couple of things reminded me of the fife and drum universe:

• The director/M.C. explained a bunch of things about different kinds of tubas, the way one of my corps instructors might explain different types of fife (Model F, Healy, etc.). 
• The tuba players were all exceedingly enthusiastic to be there with their tubas, playing with other musicians with whom they shared the instrument. After all, a gathering of tuba players can't even be as common as a gathering of fifers.

Of course, when I hear things from my friends who are in high school band, I have to think "But unfortunately for you, you're not a fifer." Viola pride doesn't strike that chord in me (no pun intended).
I think there's a life lesson here, but I've got no idea what it is. 

A Limerick

One time I thought, "I want to write
A limerick, but then I might
Get writers' block,
Look at the clock,
Give up and leave my paper white."

Reasons We're All Doomed #4 and 5

#4 The end of the Twinkie and
#5 The fact that Princess Leia is now a Disney Princess.

I'm sure you saw those coming.

Siccing Kids on Theology

I work with a bunch of great kids - kindergarteners, nursery 2-year-olds, and fourth, fifth and sixth-grade church Tweens - and they are totally clueless. They have no idea how old we (teachers, leaders, etc.) are, and I have been asked many times if I'm married, if I have kids, etc. They think we know everything; I had to try to explain chemotherapy the other week.

They say some hilarious stuff too. Yesterday at church, one of the Tweens told me how you would send a letter to God. "You take your letter to Jerusalem and put it in the West Wall." Now that's deep.

It sounds pretty silly to us. I was thinking, though, that the difference in understanding between these ten-year-olds and me is...eight years. Not all that long, comparatively speaking. Whereas the difference between our understanding and the actual reality of God is probably enough to make our most brilliant theologians' writings of wisdom, etc., look just as foolish as the concept of communicating with God via the West Wall in Jerusalem.

It's fairly reassuring, actually, remembering that I'm not expected to get it right, just trust God to steer me where I need to be.

Reason We're All Doomed #3

Okay, so you know that non-credit Paranormal CSI: Ghost Hunting class my school is offering?

Turns out it's actually a one-credit course.

What Do You See?

Her eyes were what really fascinated me. Who knew that a five-year-old could have eyes like that?
In shape and color there was nothing abnormal about them, nothing unique beyond the usual uniqueness of a child's eyes. They were not that much lighter than the brown eyes most of the other students in the class had. Yet...there was something about them...some expression I suppose that made it seem to me that she wasn't really seeing what the rest of us were seeing, that she was seeing something bigger, deeper, brighter perhaps, that the rest of us could not. The rest of her face and her words and behavior didn't contribute to this "vibe," so call it, that I was getting off her. It was just the eyes.
In the following weeks after the first day of school, whenever I was in the classroom I could not help but keep a surreptitious eye of my own on her, wondering what she was seeing. It would not have shocked me to see her tuned out from the world the rest of us lived in, enjoying - or perhaps trapped in - the other world we couldn't see. Her words and behavior remained, however, frustratingly normal, and I wondered all the more strongly what it was about her that I was seeing that no one else seemed to. Maybe it was just me - but what would have provoked that strangeness I couldn't fathom.
Over time I thus continued to look for that strange sight that seemed to characterize her, all the more closely for my doubts. She, like any other five-year-old girl might, was doing just fine in the classroom and, like many of her sweet little classmates, was becoming an indefatigable crusader of a tattletale. And over time, I could not help but notice that the helpless depth I had been inexplicably drawn to in her eyes was fading - indeed, was very nearly gone. Nothing had changed per se, not in her voice or manners, not in her face or expression; still, I had seen something, and that something I was no longer seeing.
It made me wonder whether anything had changed behind her eyes.