"Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair..." -Susan Polis Shutz
Two screaming newborns appear on our TV screen with a younger version of my Dad speaking to his wife, "Molly, we want to make sure we get this on film so that when Katie and Patrick are older they can see what they put their parents through." Twenty six years later, I find myself sitting next to those two "newborns" watching these home videos. I don't think my Dad believed this time would ever come, and now those two newborns are older than my Dad was when that video was taken. Home videos always leave me with an ery feeling that the present is already the past and time kicked you right into the future without you even noticing.
We talk about growing up,being done with school, being sucessful in the real world, and getting married...but we never expect it ever really to happen...UNTIL IT DOES. Time has just offially kicked the Mech family into the future, my sister is a successful business woman at the largest premium drinks company in the world, tomorrow my other sister will be purchasing a home, two of my siblings will be married by the end of next year, and in a few months the last (on-site) Spartan will be moving to the windy city. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
I wouldn't rewind for one moment, I love where we all are and can't wait to see where we all go. I pray that we hold on tight to one another during the storms, share with one another what flowers have bloomed in our life's garden, keep the tradition of a large,crazy family, take time to listen to eachother's stories, and always know that no matter where you are home is just a flight away, and if you can't find your way back someone will be happy to grab you by the back of the neck and show you the way.
I am going to leave you with a few quotes from a book Sheila and I picked up today.
"Laundry will wait very patiently."
"You don't have to be afraid of living alone."
"Your hair matters far, far less than you think."
"Work should not be work. You should love your job."
"Flex that muscle in your heart."
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
God's Greatest Gift to Women
"The world is a rose, smell it and pass it to your friends"
As it gets closer and closer to my final year at Michigan State University, a place where I have made a family of my own, I am realizing how beautiful God's gift of friendship is. There are three women that I have met during the past three years that have formed my experience at Michigan State.
I met Kristina my first day at Michigan State. She was my freshmen roommate. As I helped her carry boxes into our Yakeley dorm room, I had no idea she would be the girl I run to years later when I need to be consoled. Kristina bears one of the most beautiful gifts a friend could ask for, she is a great listener and passes no judgement. She is the one that Maggie, Lucy, and I all usually tell our stories to first, not because the rest of us won't listen or won't support each other, but because being in Kristina's confessional is truly like talking with God, she listens with a great deal of care and interest and always has her arms wide open when you most need it.
Kristina is amazingly thoughtful, whether it is picking up a box of your favorite candy or a cup of your favorite Starbucks or writing you a note that she stuffs into your travel make-up bag before you take a weekend trip. (I still carry that note around even though I have switch make-up bags a few times. It reminds me that her awe-inspiring and god-like way to love another is constantly flowing around me even when she is not there.)
I am more scared than I am willing to admit to Kristina not to have her there this year. She and I were west circle's definition of 'connected to the hip.' She has always been part of my definition of Michigan State, always someone to go home to and talk about my day with. I love Kristina for so many reasons and I will miss the moments without her, but believe me she will be getting an unruly amount of phone calls to come visit.
I met Margaret through her sister, who had become best friends with my sister their freshmen year at MSU. Margaret was like no other person I had ever met. Mrs. Studer, Margaret's mom, is always saying how the Mechs and the Studers are meant to be together, and I couldn't agree more. Being around Margaret becomes addictive. She reminds me of the wind on a hot day: it feels so dreamy that you don't want it to leave, but when it does it leaves your hair a bit tousled. She breathes new life into me and makes me feel fresh and excited about life. I have learned so much about faith by watching her and listening to her insightful thoughts on God. She gets me excited about living and constantly inspires me to change for the better without knowing it, whether inspiring me to be more out going or growing in my faith. I love knowing that no matter when I hangout with Margaret, it is going to be an adventure, whether an exploration of myself due to an in depth conversation or making me get the giggles as she shows her cartwheel off to an involuntary audience of MSU cheerleaders. Margaret knows how to enjoy herself, no matter what. She never takes herself too seriously. Maggie is overflowing with love and her love can be felt by all of those who surround her. One thing that Kristina, Lucy, and I can all count on anytime we hangout with Margaret, is that she is sure to tear up. When Maggie was in her Greys Anatomy phase, Lucy, Kristina, and I had to make sure we were ready to console her after each episode. When I start tearing up at church because of something the priest just said, I know I can look down the pew at Maggie and she will be looking back with tears in her eyes, and we'll both start to giggle. Margaret has taught me that world is your adventure, you just have to put on your hiking boots and start walking, you may trip over a few roots, but you'll get back up (even if it isn't too graceful), and you may have to look under a few rocks to find the adventure, but it's there.
I met Lucy (aka "American")because she lived on Margaret's floor in Yakeley. One thing I learned about Lucy this year is that she is a wonderful poet. It isn't that her poems have an catchy rhyme scheme or that her iambic pentameter matches Shakespeare's to a tee, it is that they expose Lucy's raw, unguarded self- her true fears, her scars, her dreams. The poems are written directly from her heart. On "poetry night"- where Kristina and I are the captive audience to Lucy's readings, Lucy gives us a glimpse of her vulnerable side, these are moments that I truly cherish because it is very rare that a person lets you see this deep into their soul.
Lucy reminds me of a bonfire, it takes a little bit to get it going, but once it warms up you don't want to move away from the heat. Lucy is my favorite person to be around when she is happy because she has one of the most ridiculous laughs, its hard not to crack up just hearing it. Her brother has titled her laugh "the pterodactyl", which suits it perfectly. It consists of an odd shrieking noise that makes everyone in the room look over at us to find Lucy's face full of tears and trying to catch her breath. Lucy is the most loyal friend a girl could ask for, once when someone said something to me that made me upset...Lucy was ready to fight. I have never had a friend that loves me so much that she will stand up for me no matter what.She hates to see a tear upon your cheek.For some reason Lucy holds some magical spell over me, whenever I am around her, we are like two twelve year old girls with the giggles. I just can't help myself, but to be silly around Lucy...She reminds me that its okay to act like a crazy woman(as long as your doing it with another crazy woman by your side.)
Kristina, Margaret, and Lucy are my reminders that God is all around. I was so scared my freshman year about making friends, little did I know that God had three guardian angels waiting for me.
Kristina, Margaret, and Lucy- I love you. You are beautiful, inspiring, and amazing women. I am so honored to have your friendship.
As it gets closer and closer to my final year at Michigan State University, a place where I have made a family of my own, I am realizing how beautiful God's gift of friendship is. There are three women that I have met during the past three years that have formed my experience at Michigan State.
I met Kristina my first day at Michigan State. She was my freshmen roommate. As I helped her carry boxes into our Yakeley dorm room, I had no idea she would be the girl I run to years later when I need to be consoled. Kristina bears one of the most beautiful gifts a friend could ask for, she is a great listener and passes no judgement. She is the one that Maggie, Lucy, and I all usually tell our stories to first, not because the rest of us won't listen or won't support each other, but because being in Kristina's confessional is truly like talking with God, she listens with a great deal of care and interest and always has her arms wide open when you most need it.
Kristina is amazingly thoughtful, whether it is picking up a box of your favorite candy or a cup of your favorite Starbucks or writing you a note that she stuffs into your travel make-up bag before you take a weekend trip. (I still carry that note around even though I have switch make-up bags a few times. It reminds me that her awe-inspiring and god-like way to love another is constantly flowing around me even when she is not there.)
I am more scared than I am willing to admit to Kristina not to have her there this year. She and I were west circle's definition of 'connected to the hip.' She has always been part of my definition of Michigan State, always someone to go home to and talk about my day with. I love Kristina for so many reasons and I will miss the moments without her, but believe me she will be getting an unruly amount of phone calls to come visit.
I met Margaret through her sister, who had become best friends with my sister their freshmen year at MSU. Margaret was like no other person I had ever met. Mrs. Studer, Margaret's mom, is always saying how the Mechs and the Studers are meant to be together, and I couldn't agree more. Being around Margaret becomes addictive. She reminds me of the wind on a hot day: it feels so dreamy that you don't want it to leave, but when it does it leaves your hair a bit tousled. She breathes new life into me and makes me feel fresh and excited about life. I have learned so much about faith by watching her and listening to her insightful thoughts on God. She gets me excited about living and constantly inspires me to change for the better without knowing it, whether inspiring me to be more out going or growing in my faith. I love knowing that no matter when I hangout with Margaret, it is going to be an adventure, whether an exploration of myself due to an in depth conversation or making me get the giggles as she shows her cartwheel off to an involuntary audience of MSU cheerleaders. Margaret knows how to enjoy herself, no matter what. She never takes herself too seriously. Maggie is overflowing with love and her love can be felt by all of those who surround her. One thing that Kristina, Lucy, and I can all count on anytime we hangout with Margaret, is that she is sure to tear up. When Maggie was in her Greys Anatomy phase, Lucy, Kristina, and I had to make sure we were ready to console her after each episode. When I start tearing up at church because of something the priest just said, I know I can look down the pew at Maggie and she will be looking back with tears in her eyes, and we'll both start to giggle. Margaret has taught me that world is your adventure, you just have to put on your hiking boots and start walking, you may trip over a few roots, but you'll get back up (even if it isn't too graceful), and you may have to look under a few rocks to find the adventure, but it's there.
I met Lucy (aka "American")because she lived on Margaret's floor in Yakeley. One thing I learned about Lucy this year is that she is a wonderful poet. It isn't that her poems have an catchy rhyme scheme or that her iambic pentameter matches Shakespeare's to a tee, it is that they expose Lucy's raw, unguarded self- her true fears, her scars, her dreams. The poems are written directly from her heart. On "poetry night"- where Kristina and I are the captive audience to Lucy's readings, Lucy gives us a glimpse of her vulnerable side, these are moments that I truly cherish because it is very rare that a person lets you see this deep into their soul.
Lucy reminds me of a bonfire, it takes a little bit to get it going, but once it warms up you don't want to move away from the heat. Lucy is my favorite person to be around when she is happy because she has one of the most ridiculous laughs, its hard not to crack up just hearing it. Her brother has titled her laugh "the pterodactyl", which suits it perfectly. It consists of an odd shrieking noise that makes everyone in the room look over at us to find Lucy's face full of tears and trying to catch her breath. Lucy is the most loyal friend a girl could ask for, once when someone said something to me that made me upset...Lucy was ready to fight. I have never had a friend that loves me so much that she will stand up for me no matter what.She hates to see a tear upon your cheek.For some reason Lucy holds some magical spell over me, whenever I am around her, we are like two twelve year old girls with the giggles. I just can't help myself, but to be silly around Lucy...She reminds me that its okay to act like a crazy woman(as long as your doing it with another crazy woman by your side.)
Kristina, Margaret, and Lucy are my reminders that God is all around. I was so scared my freshman year about making friends, little did I know that God had three guardian angels waiting for me.
Kristina, Margaret, and Lucy- I love you. You are beautiful, inspiring, and amazing women. I am so honored to have your friendship.
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Me I want to Be
"Preach the Gospel at all times, when necessary use words." -Saint Francis of Assisi
I just heard the quote a few weeks ago during one of the most beautiful homilies I have ever witnessed. Father Jake, an older priest who graduated from Michigan State's Med School, spoke about what we want to be remembered as, for him- he wanted his gravestone to say "Sweet Man." I am sure my friends get a little sick of my constant advice for them and the philosophy I try to live by: be the person you want to be NOW. It is one of the hardest things to change an attitude or really step out of your boundaries to try to be that better person. I have been trying to live by my this new philosophy, but it feels like swallowing an extremely large pill without any water. But to be able to swallow, you first need to know who you want to be. So I am putting it out here on the internet, so all of those who know me and read this can call me out if I am not being that person, can challenge me, and help me grow stronger.
The Me I Want to Be
I want to be a strong and inspirational woman.
I want to understand why people act the way they do rather than judging them.
I want to be a friendly stranger.
I want to pray more.
I want to make my friends and family know how special they are to me.
I want to live by the quote above and by this quote I just recently found : "In bathrooms, boardrooms, buses, bagel shops, and everywhere else, we all need to imagine a little girl following us around, repeating everything we say and everything we do. Think about all the things you want for yourself and your daughters, granddaughters, and girls everywhere — and teach them by living it yourself.” -Nell Merlino
I want to be one of those people that you can just look at and know they are passionate and excited about the lives they are living.
I want to be constantly pushing myself to exhaustion to be the best teacher I can be.
I want to surround myself with people who inspire me and expect high standards of myself.
This is blog is not yet summed up, it is going to be a two-parter. I am going push myself to live by this for a week and get back to you then. But as my fellow (and I am sure committed) blogreaders, reflect on the person you want to be (make a list if you want to be a diehard blogger) and try to be that person. Stop saying should have, would have, and could have and start doing and being. What do you want your gravestone to say?
I just heard the quote a few weeks ago during one of the most beautiful homilies I have ever witnessed. Father Jake, an older priest who graduated from Michigan State's Med School, spoke about what we want to be remembered as, for him- he wanted his gravestone to say "Sweet Man." I am sure my friends get a little sick of my constant advice for them and the philosophy I try to live by: be the person you want to be NOW. It is one of the hardest things to change an attitude or really step out of your boundaries to try to be that better person. I have been trying to live by my this new philosophy, but it feels like swallowing an extremely large pill without any water. But to be able to swallow, you first need to know who you want to be. So I am putting it out here on the internet, so all of those who know me and read this can call me out if I am not being that person, can challenge me, and help me grow stronger.
The Me I Want to Be
I want to be a strong and inspirational woman.
I want to understand why people act the way they do rather than judging them.
I want to be a friendly stranger.
I want to pray more.
I want to make my friends and family know how special they are to me.
I want to live by the quote above and by this quote I just recently found : "In bathrooms, boardrooms, buses, bagel shops, and everywhere else, we all need to imagine a little girl following us around, repeating everything we say and everything we do. Think about all the things you want for yourself and your daughters, granddaughters, and girls everywhere — and teach them by living it yourself.” -Nell Merlino
I want to be one of those people that you can just look at and know they are passionate and excited about the lives they are living.
I want to be constantly pushing myself to exhaustion to be the best teacher I can be.
I want to surround myself with people who inspire me and expect high standards of myself.
This is blog is not yet summed up, it is going to be a two-parter. I am going push myself to live by this for a week and get back to you then. But as my fellow (and I am sure committed) blogreaders, reflect on the person you want to be (make a list if you want to be a diehard blogger) and try to be that person. Stop saying should have, would have, and could have and start doing and being. What do you want your gravestone to say?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Evil Seattle Winds
Right now it is pouring down rain on little East Lansing, Michigan. But, it reminds me of a day when my sister Sheila put her life on the line and since my sister Katie requested that I write a new blog, I decided to share this story with you.
When I was in elementary school my parents took us on a summer trip to Alaska. We flew to Seattle and then from there took a few day ferry trip to Alaska. Little did we know young Sheila would be asked to risk her 11 year old body for this ferry trip. The ferry had small cabins that could be rented out and of course my parents took it upon themselves to rent one for the two of them. This room would later be referred to as the "Love Shack" but that is a whole other story. The four Mech children were out on the open deck, Katie and Patrick in their own separate personal tents (because two 8th graders wouldn't be caught dead sharing a tent!) and Sheila and Jane in our family's humongous 6 person tent.
During the first night, I fell fast asleep on the cool metal floor, but soon enough was awoken by Sheila's whimpers and wails with the loud wind in the background. I opened my eyes to see that Sheila had spread herself as far as her body could reach across our family's tent.
"Jane, I think our tent is going to fly off the ferry!"
The walls of our tent were flapping and Sheila's hysterical ways were freaking me out.
"What should we do?"
We contemplated what plan of action would have the least chance of one or both of us dieing: Should we go into Katie and Patrick's tents?
No, because then our tent would definitely blow away and Dad would kill us.
The winds blew louder and louder and now I was starting to believe maybe tonight would be these two sisters' final night together.
Should Sheila go wake up Dad to get his body weight to hold down the tent?
No, because we weren't sure if my 4th grade body was enough against these evil Seattle winds.
There was only one choice...
"Jane, I am bigger. You go get Dad. Tell him we are going to blow away and we need his body weight."
As I took General Sheila's orders and unzipped the tent, I wasn't sure if I would ever see her again or if she and our 6 person tent would be one with the Pacific Ocean.
I woke up my Dad in a frenzy and I am sure for a moment he questioned why he decided to take his children on a trip to Alaska. Luckily, when we returned and looked into the tent Sheila's sprawled out body was still cemented to the floor. Dad's weight was enough to keep us anchored during the night.
This story has no moral, self examination or soul searching undertone. I just want to thank Sheila for weighing two more extra pounds than me, which would designate me to be the one who went to go get Dad. Because who knows, if she would have left me in tent, this could have been a whole other story and this blog may have never been written...
When I was in elementary school my parents took us on a summer trip to Alaska. We flew to Seattle and then from there took a few day ferry trip to Alaska. Little did we know young Sheila would be asked to risk her 11 year old body for this ferry trip. The ferry had small cabins that could be rented out and of course my parents took it upon themselves to rent one for the two of them. This room would later be referred to as the "Love Shack" but that is a whole other story. The four Mech children were out on the open deck, Katie and Patrick in their own separate personal tents (because two 8th graders wouldn't be caught dead sharing a tent!) and Sheila and Jane in our family's humongous 6 person tent.
During the first night, I fell fast asleep on the cool metal floor, but soon enough was awoken by Sheila's whimpers and wails with the loud wind in the background. I opened my eyes to see that Sheila had spread herself as far as her body could reach across our family's tent.
"Jane, I think our tent is going to fly off the ferry!"
The walls of our tent were flapping and Sheila's hysterical ways were freaking me out.
"What should we do?"
We contemplated what plan of action would have the least chance of one or both of us dieing: Should we go into Katie and Patrick's tents?
No, because then our tent would definitely blow away and Dad would kill us.
The winds blew louder and louder and now I was starting to believe maybe tonight would be these two sisters' final night together.
Should Sheila go wake up Dad to get his body weight to hold down the tent?
No, because we weren't sure if my 4th grade body was enough against these evil Seattle winds.
There was only one choice...
"Jane, I am bigger. You go get Dad. Tell him we are going to blow away and we need his body weight."
As I took General Sheila's orders and unzipped the tent, I wasn't sure if I would ever see her again or if she and our 6 person tent would be one with the Pacific Ocean.
I woke up my Dad in a frenzy and I am sure for a moment he questioned why he decided to take his children on a trip to Alaska. Luckily, when we returned and looked into the tent Sheila's sprawled out body was still cemented to the floor. Dad's weight was enough to keep us anchored during the night.
This story has no moral, self examination or soul searching undertone. I just want to thank Sheila for weighing two more extra pounds than me, which would designate me to be the one who went to go get Dad. Because who knows, if she would have left me in tent, this could have been a whole other story and this blog may have never been written...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Amazing Grace
philosophy: how you climb up the mountain is just as important as how you get down the mountain. and, so it is with life, which for many of us becomes one big gigantic test followed by one big gigantic lesson. in the end, it all comes down to one word. grace. it's how you accept winning and losing, good luck and bad luck, the darkness and the light.
Okay I wish I could say I wrote that, but I stole it from my shampoo bottle. In my field, education, professors are constantly talking about our own personal philosophy. If you ask most of your past teachers what their teaching philosophy is they will probably have an answer for you. I always wonder about my own life philosophy, not just my teaching philosophy, but a philosophy that sums up the system of values by which I live. Is it even a possibility to sum up all your values, beliefs, and ideas into a few simple sentences? I think my philosophy will be a never ending sentence with constant editing. Before I will ever feel competent to finish off the sentence, "My own personal philosophy is..." I have come across the idea of love lists. My sister and her college friends made them. I loved the idea of writing out the simple joys in my life, so I have started making my own. Mine always look something like this:
Jane's Love List
starring up at the night sky
late night walks with my friends
anytime walks with my mom and mrs. dancy
doing 3 way calls with my sisters
surprises
singing in my car (with or without others)
reading the sunday new york times
being a spartan
that my brother thinks i am a good dancer
taking bubble baths
patio parties
sunday 5 o'clock mass
coffee and the today show
people who are passionate
my brother's german accent
cute little towns
otter
chick flicks
spoonfuls of my dad's honey
trips to the cabin
getting mail
a good glass of wine
wool socks
dates with my mom
interesting strangers
partner yoga
Believe me this list could go on and on. I dare you to make your own list- you may surprise yourself. What do you love and why do you love it? My love list is always getting longer and longer, but items are never edited out because even if it isn't my main joy now it made me smile once before. One day I will have some philosophical ideas and values by which I live (and when that day comes-it will be the best blog I have ever written), but for now I will live by my love list and take on my shampoo bottle's philosophy by accepting everything with grace.
Okay I wish I could say I wrote that, but I stole it from my shampoo bottle. In my field, education, professors are constantly talking about our own personal philosophy. If you ask most of your past teachers what their teaching philosophy is they will probably have an answer for you. I always wonder about my own life philosophy, not just my teaching philosophy, but a philosophy that sums up the system of values by which I live. Is it even a possibility to sum up all your values, beliefs, and ideas into a few simple sentences? I think my philosophy will be a never ending sentence with constant editing. Before I will ever feel competent to finish off the sentence, "My own personal philosophy is..." I have come across the idea of love lists. My sister and her college friends made them. I loved the idea of writing out the simple joys in my life, so I have started making my own. Mine always look something like this:
Jane's Love List
starring up at the night sky
late night walks with my friends
anytime walks with my mom and mrs. dancy
doing 3 way calls with my sisters
surprises
singing in my car (with or without others)
reading the sunday new york times
being a spartan
that my brother thinks i am a good dancer
taking bubble baths
patio parties
sunday 5 o'clock mass
coffee and the today show
people who are passionate
my brother's german accent
cute little towns
otter
chick flicks
spoonfuls of my dad's honey
trips to the cabin
getting mail
a good glass of wine
wool socks
dates with my mom
interesting strangers
partner yoga
Believe me this list could go on and on. I dare you to make your own list- you may surprise yourself. What do you love and why do you love it? My love list is always getting longer and longer, but items are never edited out because even if it isn't my main joy now it made me smile once before. One day I will have some philosophical ideas and values by which I live (and when that day comes-it will be the best blog I have ever written), but for now I will live by my love list and take on my shampoo bottle's philosophy by accepting everything with grace.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Would You Marry Your Dad?
The other day my girlfriends and I were having the conversation: Do you think you'll marry someone like your dad. I was the one with the Dad that was into spending as much time as possible with his children, he would get off a long day of work and still have enough energy to take us to the pool or to the library (letting us choose as many books as we wanted) and also making sure he made time to read those books with us. My parents (and also any other relatives they could drag along, cousins, grandparents...) came to ever possible soccer game, tennis match, or parents' night they could get their hands on. They did not just end up cheering for me but also all of my friends and my teammates. They even made it a must to attend my best friend's homecoming game where she would be crowned our homecoming queen. I am not saying that their interest in my life never embarrassed me, but I secretly always loved that they were there.
I was constantly seeing my parents generosity- they always invited my friends over for dinner, on family vacations, and took as much interest in my friends as I did.
My family takes an annual trip to Chicago, this year I wasn't able to attend because it was during my finals week. But that didn't mean that my friends weren't invited. My parents called all my friends attending school in the Chicago area to meet up with our extended family. I love that my friends (including my new college friends) are part of my family. Sometimes I have to hold myself back from bragging about how great my family is. I feel though our world is full of people who can't stand their parents or hate going home. I almost feel guilty that I have been blessed with a family that I can't seem to get enough of. So as an answer to do I want to marry someone like my father: I can only hope to meet someone as intelligent, funny, loving, generous, self-assured, faithful, and caring as my Dad.
I was constantly seeing my parents generosity- they always invited my friends over for dinner, on family vacations, and took as much interest in my friends as I did.
My family takes an annual trip to Chicago, this year I wasn't able to attend because it was during my finals week. But that didn't mean that my friends weren't invited. My parents called all my friends attending school in the Chicago area to meet up with our extended family. I love that my friends (including my new college friends) are part of my family. Sometimes I have to hold myself back from bragging about how great my family is. I feel though our world is full of people who can't stand their parents or hate going home. I almost feel guilty that I have been blessed with a family that I can't seem to get enough of. So as an answer to do I want to marry someone like my father: I can only hope to meet someone as intelligent, funny, loving, generous, self-assured, faithful, and caring as my Dad.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Beauty of Crying
"Sometimes you just need a good cry." This seems to be a motto that runs through the veins of my female relatives. I used to repeatedly catch my mom watching a sappy homemade Mothers Day slide show on her computer with tears running down her cheeks. I can almost always bet on my mom tearing up every 24 hours on the hour, it could be a from a inspiration e-mail one of her book club friends sent her, or talking about how proud she is of her children, or bringing up a heartwarming memory of my grandpa...come to think about it she is probably crying just reading this blog. My little cousin Grace can't hold back her tears whenever the church choir sings Amazing Grace and by just looking at her it starts a chain reaction of cries right down the pew of the rest of her soppy female relatives. My sister Sheila weeps her little heart out every time she has to leave our family's home after a week vacation to head to the airport. My sister Katie always surprises me when she cries. I never know exactly when it is going to come out but when it does-oh baby it pours. She has this amazingly strong love for people in her life and is constantly striving to make things perfect for those people. But when those people in her life (including me) take out our bad mood on her, her frustration and hard work boils up in the form of old faithful.
I never thought I'd ever tear up as much as my mother does...she is still the record holder, but I am definitely catching up. My tears are another thing that surprise me- they come along with frustration and chick flicks, but then they accidentally squeeze themselves out during class. For a introduction activity for one of my courses, we were asked to do an autobiographical poem. Afterwords, we discussed our poems and who we see ourselves as. I brought up the point that we are often defined by how we are seen by others and how we have no idea how others see us and therefore it is impossible to know our full definitions. Then I got that big old beautiful knot in my throat that makes my voice sound as if I am impersonating Minny mouse, saying "Sometimes my friends and family know me better than I know myself, whether it is a package of peeps my friend picked up for me from CVS just as a small reminder that even though I am miles away from my home there is still somebody that loves me enough to know that when I am having a bad day a package of my favorite candy is all I need, or sometimes all I need is a call from one my sisters giving me a pep talk about what is going on in my life." Luckily, I don't think anybody in my class noticed my red eyes. But it makes me laugh just thinking that if my mom and sisters were sitting next to me they'd be tearing up too. It isn't just our blood that proves we are related, it is the obscene amount of water our tearducts are able to produce.
"There are always flowers for those who want to see them."
I never thought I'd ever tear up as much as my mother does...she is still the record holder, but I am definitely catching up. My tears are another thing that surprise me- they come along with frustration and chick flicks, but then they accidentally squeeze themselves out during class. For a introduction activity for one of my courses, we were asked to do an autobiographical poem. Afterwords, we discussed our poems and who we see ourselves as. I brought up the point that we are often defined by how we are seen by others and how we have no idea how others see us and therefore it is impossible to know our full definitions. Then I got that big old beautiful knot in my throat that makes my voice sound as if I am impersonating Minny mouse, saying "Sometimes my friends and family know me better than I know myself, whether it is a package of peeps my friend picked up for me from CVS just as a small reminder that even though I am miles away from my home there is still somebody that loves me enough to know that when I am having a bad day a package of my favorite candy is all I need, or sometimes all I need is a call from one my sisters giving me a pep talk about what is going on in my life." Luckily, I don't think anybody in my class noticed my red eyes. But it makes me laugh just thinking that if my mom and sisters were sitting next to me they'd be tearing up too. It isn't just our blood that proves we are related, it is the obscene amount of water our tearducts are able to produce.
"There are always flowers for those who want to see them."
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Sunday Styles
The New York Times, Sunday Edition is a required text for my English course. (And yes, if you are the apartment above mine, I stole your NYT, but your newspapers have been piling up outside the door so I thought I'd do you a favor.) I didn't think I'd use this as an online confessional but it seems to be working out that way.
Anyways, I now understand why Charlotte from Sex in the City is obsessed with the wedding announcement section, or why it is only printed in the Sunday edition: because hopeless romantics like myself would never leave their cup of coffee, tissue box, and columns upon columns of the next You've Got Mail or The Notebook chick flicks, or why when my English professor asks what I found interesting in the NYT, my only answer will be "that it took Josh Gadbow three years of perfect dates to finally kiss Beth Leachman."
"He soon whispered 'I love you' at a pizza and wine bar called the Kitchen Upstairs that, in true Boulder fashion even recycles drinking straws. Ms. Leachman's reply was as circuitous as an Irish ballad: 'Thank you' she recalled saying. Then she told him 'all the things he might not like about me once he got to know me.' When he seemed unfazed, she told him she would love him forever." ...I mean how perfect is that?
So instead of spending $12 bucks at the movie theater, I recommend picking up the latest Sunday edition, popping a bag of popcorn and enjoying a night in. (Note: You should also read the rest of the paper...they tell me it's important.)
"I'd rather have roses on my table, than diamonds on my neck."
-Emma Goldman
Anyways, I now understand why Charlotte from Sex in the City is obsessed with the wedding announcement section, or why it is only printed in the Sunday edition: because hopeless romantics like myself would never leave their cup of coffee, tissue box, and columns upon columns of the next You've Got Mail or The Notebook chick flicks, or why when my English professor asks what I found interesting in the NYT, my only answer will be "that it took Josh Gadbow three years of perfect dates to finally kiss Beth Leachman."
"He soon whispered 'I love you' at a pizza and wine bar called the Kitchen Upstairs that, in true Boulder fashion even recycles drinking straws. Ms. Leachman's reply was as circuitous as an Irish ballad: 'Thank you' she recalled saying. Then she told him 'all the things he might not like about me once he got to know me.' When he seemed unfazed, she told him she would love him forever." ...I mean how perfect is that?
So instead of spending $12 bucks at the movie theater, I recommend picking up the latest Sunday edition, popping a bag of popcorn and enjoying a night in. (Note: You should also read the rest of the paper...they tell me it's important.)
"I'd rather have roses on my table, than diamonds on my neck."
-Emma Goldman
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Breaking The Ice
How much does a polar bear weigh?
Just enough to break the ice!
Okay, it is a little bit lame, but this is my first time blogging so give me a 'break.' I have decided to title my blog "Jane's Fresh Cut Thoughts" because it has always been a dream of mine to open my own flower shop. I worked at Trenton Flower Shop while in high school and fell in love with the business. You never run into an mad customer. Everyone walks into the shop, smells the sweetness, and leaves happy. As the delivery girl, I was given the chance to make everyone's day by surprising them with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from their son who lives across the country, or from a close friend who wishes they would feel better, or from a date last night that went over extremely well. You get a glimpse into a person's soul when you write the note that sticks into the bouquet, you see how in love they are with their wives or how sorry they are for something hurtful they said to a friend. Writing these messages can get you into a bit of trouble though, for instance: when I signed "Love, Tom" instead of "Love, Todd". My boss wasn't too happy about that mistake.
Another dream of mine is to be an elementary teacher, which I am working towards by gaining my undergraduate degree from Michigan State University. For the first few weeks of this blog, I will be using it to discuss topics for my TE 448 class, "Issues of Diversity in Children's and Adolescent Literature". I hope to continue this blog after the course is finished to explore my thoughts on issues of education, my daily life, or just anything I find interesting.
"The World Laughs In Flowers." Ralph Waldo Emerson
Just enough to break the ice!
Okay, it is a little bit lame, but this is my first time blogging so give me a 'break.' I have decided to title my blog "Jane's Fresh Cut Thoughts" because it has always been a dream of mine to open my own flower shop. I worked at Trenton Flower Shop while in high school and fell in love with the business. You never run into an mad customer. Everyone walks into the shop, smells the sweetness, and leaves happy. As the delivery girl, I was given the chance to make everyone's day by surprising them with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from their son who lives across the country, or from a close friend who wishes they would feel better, or from a date last night that went over extremely well. You get a glimpse into a person's soul when you write the note that sticks into the bouquet, you see how in love they are with their wives or how sorry they are for something hurtful they said to a friend. Writing these messages can get you into a bit of trouble though, for instance: when I signed "Love, Tom" instead of "Love, Todd". My boss wasn't too happy about that mistake.
Another dream of mine is to be an elementary teacher, which I am working towards by gaining my undergraduate degree from Michigan State University. For the first few weeks of this blog, I will be using it to discuss topics for my TE 448 class, "Issues of Diversity in Children's and Adolescent Literature". I hope to continue this blog after the course is finished to explore my thoughts on issues of education, my daily life, or just anything I find interesting.
"The World Laughs In Flowers." Ralph Waldo Emerson
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