Making a Good Impression
So for the past several days I have been in "phase 2" of the job search which involves me visiting principals to hand off my resume and chatting about how much I want to work for them. I went and talked with the DeKalb principal yesterday. I
really want to work there. But they have no idea what they will be hiring for due to budget blah blah blah....she will let me know by the end of April. But she seemed very impressed by my being there and then as I walked out of the office I received a great many hugs and "catching-up-chit-chat" because I have not seen my friends there in quite some time, this too impressed her. Everyone there had something good to say about me. What more could I have asked for? Perhaps the patience to wait until April for a decision?
Worth the Drive
Just in case you were wondering the game was worth every minute of the 10 hour drive that made it possible. We had amazing seats; courtside, right next to our team so we were
in the huddle, it was beautiful. It was a very exciting and close game. And we
won! Now they are the Eastern Champs and they go on to play the West.
I wonder if a drive to South Dakota would be worth it?
Great Lakes
Leave it to Jenny to put that flare back into my life. Her beloved Rockford Lightning won their game on Sunday and are now playing the Great Lakes Team in Michigan on Tuesday. She wants to drive 5 1/2 hours up there for a 3 hour game and then turn around and drive 5 1/2 hours back. Sheer
craziness. So when she called me and asked me if I wanted to tag along on the 13 hour basketball game road trip I said, "I'm
IN!"
We are leaving in 11 hours, it is going to be great fun. These are the moments where inside jokes are born, laughter is hearty, kareoke is mandatory, and a lifetime of memories are created. These are the good times.
Thinking About Callings
I was just thinking about what it is that God
may have planned for my life. I like to dream big dreams and I am excited to know that God does too. I am excited, because so far life has been so good: not easy, but worth it.
I have been thinking back to the times when I have felt most "alive" I think that those are the moments when I have really been where God wanted me to be. And I think of all of the time that I spent working with the youth group at my church...especially at church camp. I wonder if God has something in that for me. God has used camp experiences in my life in a big way....especially once I was on the serving end vs. the "camper" side. I think that that really might be a good fit for me...working at a camp, teaching, building relationships, challenging students spiritually, and enjoying nature and fellowship. It would be hard in some ways too. There would be a lot of grounds work, and maintenance, and financial stuff. But maybe that would be where God could fit a guy into my life (ha ha! I am always trying to help God with that one *wink*).
Or maybe some other form of youth ministry, for the next couple of years I am thinking that I will be teaching in a middle school, hopefully in the Dixon area. The move will be good for me. And I think that there are a lot of opportunities for me to really work with the youth at my church there, so we shall see just where God will put me. I am eagerly anticipating this new start.
Sunday Morning madness
My mind is positively running over with crazy ideas.
My alarm went off way too early this morning, and that was when I decided that I was going to spend the day here instead of heading home. Then about an hour later I woke up and a sudden wave of homesickness rushed over me. But now it is too late to go. Crazy indecisiveness.
I want to go someplace fun for my spring break. Disney World is fun. Costa Rica is fun. We shall see. Insanity.
I have been investigating job possibilities for the future. I am suddenly quite interested in several positions in Long Beach, CA...I might just fly out there to apply during this week of freedom. Spontaneous.
One of the secondary teachers quit this week...she just left and announced that she wasn't coming back. I laugh. I feel her pain...but NIU did a fantastic job of drilling professionalism into my brain. I would never walk out on a contract. Or maybe I credit the wrong source...perhaps it has been God all along. Madness.
I am ready. Ready for the move. Ready for the change. Ready for the new relationships. Ready for the new year. Teachers are so lucky, we get two new years...one in January and one in June.
Today I feel like doing something crazy. Maybe it would just be safer for me to go home now. Before the heartbreak.
Look Alike Contest
I was just glancing down to the bottom of my screen where I noticed the little Yahoo Messenger Icon...you know the one that is grey and looks like it is sleeping whenever you are not signed in...anyhow I have singlehandedly decided that this little icon looks just like
Strong Sad from HomeStar Runer. And that makes me laugh.
Love Me If You Dare
Sometimes I marvel at my inability to decide if I loved or hated a movie. This is a perfect example. I guess that the best way to describe it is that I loved and hated during this movie. I love getting that wrapped up in the story. However, I hated how messy/complicated it was. It was beautiful. It was life. But it was horridly complicated because life moves on...even when the love story does not. I would recommend that you see it. So that you can love and hate and debate too. It is really all about that best buy feeling and what happens when you decide to do little or nothing at all.
Another interesting aside is the two different covers. I have included both since I couldn't decide which one I liked better.
Nearly Famous
I would just like to announce that
Miss Aurand is now nearly famous...for assigning homework no less. Go figure.
Quote
"Some man out there is the luckiest guy in the world- because he's dating
our teacher!"
~squealed at the top of her 11-year-old lungs in perfect middle school shrill, her sugar levels were too high to leagally report, in responce to my silence after being questioned (for the umpteenth time) about my relational status.
A Little Support
This week has been nothing new.
This week everything has changed.
As usual the parent's of my classroom have found a multitude of things to be unhappy about. As usual they came en mass to attack. As usual I stood my ground. As usual they made me feel like my bones had been ground to a fine powder and then sifted through a cheesecloth and scattered to the wind.
But this time, someone else got involved; my head teacher and the other fifth grade teacher. A little support is everything. I have been saying and doing all of the right things but it gets so frustrating and exhausting standing under all of that pressure alone.
This week has been nothing new. Teaching at a private school can be tricky because you are burning the candle from both ends and manipulation comes easy to the people who can afford to send their children there. I have been assured repeatedly that these parents just have problems and that it "is not you." But this week I
know that to be true. It has been a very rough past couple of days; lots of crying behind bathroom doors, hiding the scars and smiling through the pain.
But this week everything has changed. To have someone ask me how things are going, to offer to hold conferences with me, to have them take my side, has helped me in ways that are unspeakable to me. I knew I was right. But now I feel strong enough to prove it. I started smiling again: for real.
This week has changed me, because someone stood up for me, because I have an ally, because the pain is shared, and the joys are mutual.
Princess Day
Today was one of the best days of my life. I
lived today.
I was feeling unloved. I was feeling forgotten and alone. I had just gotten so caught up in the day-to-day "stuff" that I had failed to
live. I was treading water; it takes a lot of effort and you're not even getting anywhere.
As I washed my hair I decided that today was going to be different, it was my birthday after all. So I carefully pinned my hair up as if I were "going out" rather than heading to school. As I perused my closet I found the right outfit. It was a shimmery purple silk ballgown that I had worn to a friend's wedding, it was a "princess dress" and it was perfect.
I started out toward the market to buy flowers and coffee. I found purple mums that matched my dress and my mood ...and mint coffee is always exquisite. For one of the first times people at work started to see my personality. I guess my kids have seen it often enough but my coworkers are another story. They seemed to have a hard time understanding why the day needed to be celebrated. Praise God, fifth graders understood perfectly.
As the morning began and students entered the building I was showered with "ohhs" and "ahhs" and "Happy Birthdays" but it went beyond greetings. I felt like one of the celebrity cartoon characters in Disney World, everyone wanted a hug and a smile, and they just wanted
to be with me. My students were so proud of me for "being a princess." And had I been paying a bit more attention I might have noticed the glimmer of a secret being glanced between them, but I was too absorbed in the holiday.
The first class of the day went just as any other day would, except that when I had to climb onto a chair to write the homework at the top of the board I had to hoist about a ton of tulle and shimmery purply stuff...as one student said, "it's funny how the dress can look so out of place in school but look so perfect on you...it's like you're from another world" I took that as a compliment.
Next I had to go to a meeting with my principal and head teacher to discuss my evaluation that had been done months ago. I was just so excited to be finally having this meeting that all of the bitterness and anger about its delay were washed away. They had a substitute come in to teach my History class while I was in conference. The sub arrived a few minutes late, I handed her the lesson plan, gave my students their last minute instructions and then ran towards the office. I hesitated slightly outside his door, momentarily doubting my attire. I giggled at myself, "who would do such a thing?" Smiling I realized that these are the moments when I love who I am. I walked in.
It was everything that I expected it to be. They think that I am great, a bit unconventional, but it seems to work for me. Things got a bit uncomfortable when he started pressuring me about the contracts again but I was firm in reminding him that I was only committed to the contract that I had signed and that I was still praying about what I was to do in the fall.
As I returned to my room I saw the "Happy Birthday" sign from the hall. When I walked in I was "Surprised" by all of the decorations and grinning faces...sneaky fifth graders...but then I noticed that they all were standing with their hands behind their backs...suspicious...the sub hurried towards my side and put something into my hand, "you're going to need this" she whispered in my ear and then she ran out the door. Slightly confused I watched her close the door behind her and then turn around to watch through the window with my principal and other staff workers...all grinning widely. I looked at what she had given me..."silly string?" As soon as I glanced at the can, my kids took that as their cue to bring out from behind their backs their own cans of fun. It was 15 to 1 and I think I conquered...I am after all much taller and more skilled in the art of silly string attacks. When all 16 cans were empty I looked back to the doorway of onlookers...I think that they were all wishing that someone had taught them how to celebrate a birthday before now.
But the day was still young. After opening endless gifts from my students I tried to settle them down to watch a movie. Just as I had gotten the right VCR hooked up to the TV another surprise greeted me. My mom, brothers, aunt and grandmother came into my class bearing more gifts and cupcakes and singing. I almost cried. After introductions and distribution of my favorite cupcakes they (my family and my class) teamed up on me. As it turns out they had been in cahoots that whole time. And this is the part where I get the gift that takes my breathe away. My aunt had contacted each of my students and secretly had them sending her pictures and letters about themselves, about me and about fifth grade. Then she had scrapbooked them all. It is the most beautiful present. I DID cry.
I sent my kids off to PE had lunch with my family and then enjoyed the afternoon with my kids.
I won't ever forget today. Today I realized just how much these people love me. Today I lived. Today is my princess day.
Visit
I went to visit my friend today. She is in the hospital again. She says that it was an accident, another terrible misunderstanding. She wants to go home. She cried in my arms and begged me to help her. A nurse came and pulled her sobbing, clinging form off of me. I left the daisies that I had brought with me on the chair I had just vacated as he strongly removed her from the room. I watched through the reinforced glass as she was escorted to her room. I glanced to the chair with the crumpled daisies, they had been ruined in her desperate embrace. I abandoned them then: her and the darn daisies. I turned slowly on my heel forgetting it all. I enjoyed the way that my skirt twirled out ever so gently. I twirled again as I crossed to the door. It reminded me of the summer I was a princess...
The summer after I had turned seven I declared myself a princess and insisted that everyone else follow suit. I took The Queen of Hearts (Alice in Wonderland), Snow White, and (my favorite) Princess Aurora as my role models. All of that summer is a blur like sunshine beams dancing down on the grassy yard that was my kingdom. I remember the laughter, and the magic wand, my princess crown, my beautiful dresses, and the twirling. Oh, how very much I loved to twirl. I would spin and spin throwing my head back, hair and ribbons trailing behind me, skirt full and soft, till I could stand no more and I would crumple into a somersaulting heap of giggles and delight as the ground beneath me rolled and the sky above me roller-costered up-down-and around-looping-back, till finally it all slowed and the clouds returned to the sky and the earth rested peacefully underneath me.
...Strong arms stopped the twirling and silently moved me into another room. Slumping me into the plush chair. So controlling. Sometimes I understand why I am here. Other times I feel the injustice of it all. Who wouldn't remember the good times of past summers? It's not like I live in the past, I simply remember and continue to enjoy the simple pleasures of an occasional twirl... if the skirt is just right. It's the littlest things that can be pleasurable to me. The littlest things add lifetimes to your days.
I love the way that my brown shoes tap out a song with each step that I take. I wear them to the quietest places, like libraries, and art galleries, and empty hallways so that I can walk slowly and deliberately and hear their perfect melody with each step. I get lost in the music of it.
I love to walk through the warm summer rains.
I make wishes on snowflakes.
I paint love notes on sidewalks.
I feed butterflies with sugar water.
I write music with wind.
I use dandelions for rouge.
I braid flowers into chains.
I dance bare foot in grass.
I high dive into quarries.
I explore the dark caverns.
I name the clouds.
I whisper to children.
I swallow the moon.
I swim through turquoise pools.
I bask in sunshine.
I twirl through shopping malls.
I skip through school.
I hum during mass.
I bowl for kids' sake.
I donate blood.
I build Habitat for Humanity homes.
I bake for my neighbors.
I deliver flowers to the sick. My eyes sought out to crumpled daisies she had brought me. Finding the room to be vacant of them, I jumped up for fear that the chair that I had crumpled into had been the chair where I had left them. True to form, I had sat on them. I tenderly picked up their broken stems and tried to embrace their droopy heads.
"Shhhh. There, there now. Don't worry, Mommy will take care of you"
The daisies were instantly forgotten as memories of my son flooded my mind. I will never forget that perfect day, eleven years ago, when I held him in my arms for the very first time. After 21 hours of labor I was quite certain that nothing in the world could be worth all of the pain. I had never been so
wrong in all of my life. He was so
perfect. As the nurse handed me the blue bundle I forgot everything in my world, all of the pain, all of the joys, all that I knew: he was captivating. It was during this moment that I knew that no matter what the cost to myself I would do everything to be the best mommy I could be. I would get help. I wanted only the best for him. But what mother doesn't want the best for her son?
I worried about him now. He was perfect in my eyes but the eyes of the world seem to think that beauty is all in the eye of the beholder: they that behold him now don't see past the skin deep qualities. I hate a world that judges by the color of one's skin. I hate a world that wants him to choose between the check boxes on the form ... White (Non-Hispanic)...Hispanic...Black...Pacific Islander... Asian...What good could come of it? Why must he choose between the heritage that I gave to him and the skin color of his father? Or....No, he wasn't really given a chance to even choose between...people look at his beautiful complexion and judge for him, my eyes may cause them a moment's hesitation, but then they shake their heads determined that skin color is supreme, he is no longer forced to
choose... He is
assigned a check box. I hate it, he is just as much a part of me. I hate it and I cannot even know the torment that he faces. I do not know the troubles he faces at school. I worry about him now. I hope that he is embraced and loved for who he is, and not labeled in a glance. I hope that he is accepted and proud of his father and his father's father and back and back and back, for they are an amazing family, a heritage to be proud of, to be celebrated. I hate that my own fair skin has empowered me to forget, ignore, or disregard the differences of my son and others like him. For it is part of white privilege to choose to either ignore or acknowledge that a "white privilege" even exists. I do. It does.
I think I will call and see if the teacher in my son's fifth grade classroom is planning on celebrating the Cinco De Mayo. Maybe I would volunteer to bring in treats. I picked up the phone but it was dead. Reminding myself of that perfect day eleven years ago when I swore to be the best mother that I could be I decided to go to the front desk to ask for some assistance. I looked for my brown shoes, it was after all a long and empty hallway and I had on the perfect dress for twirling. I could not find them. Frustrated to tears, I threw myself across the mattress. I allowed myself to sob for a moment. I rolled over onto my back and painted the white-on-white-on-white decor back onto the room surrounding me. All of the vibrant colors washed away slowly. I had to scrub the windows extra hard. But finally I had collected all of the colors back into my mood ring for safe keeping. It would never do to leave the colors up when I left my room. The nurse was likely to get mad. I think that he spends a lot of time keeping things white.
I opened my door and walked to the front desk.
"Excuse me"
Amidst all of the hustle and bustle they didn't take notice of my silent request. I sighed, but after all it is to be expected, I am quite ordinary, why would they take notice of me?
Clearing my throat loudly, I began again... "Excuse ME!"
Glancing up from their busy routines they see me for the first time.
"I would like to make a call and the phone in my room is dead."
"How did you get out here?" a frantic receptionist asked.
"Never mind that now, may I use this phone?"
Firmly, she repeated her question signaling a silent alarm that sent red lights spiraling down the hall.
"I walked out my door and down the hall, like any civilized human being would, now do you think that that is crazy too?"
"Trisha, your door is locked, you couldn't have come through it," taking my arm and turning me around we walked back to my door. The nurse with the controlling arms met us there. The nervous phone Nazi checked the door knob. Locked tight. She sighed a sigh of relief and then her eyes flew open as she realized that I was securely locked
OUT of my room. I smirked on the inside, I loved to torture them like this. They deserved it for all of the trouble that they cause me. Nurse calmly takes a key from his neck and unlocks the room. The door swings widely open. I was satisfied with my decision to remove the colors before I left. All was as it should be. We walked in together. Nurse checked the window, the bars were back firmly in place. More internal smirking, they would never figure it out, this secret was mine.
I questioned them again innocently enough, "Now about that phone call?"
"And just who would you like to be calling?" Nurse retorted, as the nervous receptionist stalked out.
"My son, no no no no no, I don't want you to get into all of that again, just wait that wasn't what I meant to say, I know that you don't want me to call him anymore...Just give me a second to get it right in my head, I didn't want to call him, nope, I wanted to call his teacher! That's right! I wanted to see if I could bring in the treats on Tuesday...."
"We have been through this before, if you ever want to start getting better you have to stop with all of this."
"But I don't want to call him, tonight, that was an accident, a terrible misunderstanding...I wanted to talk to his teacher to see..."
"You know that you don't have a son."
"I know."
"You just made him up"
"I know. But I want to get better."
"Why?"
"For him, I want to be a good mother."
"But you're not a mother if you don't have a son."
"But then why am I here?"
"Why, to get better of course."
"But to get better for whom if I haven't a son?"
"For yourself."
Sighing, "This is all so confusing, you saying that I haven't got a son when I know perfectly well that I remember having him. I love him. I worry about him. And now all I want to do is bring his class a treat on Tuesday but you won't let me call."
"Trisha, how old are you?"
"23"
"And how old is your son?"
"11"
"And how is it that you came to have a son when you were twelve?"
"I know that it doesn't make any sense here, that's because you live time differently than I do, you don't enjoy the little things, that would have given you lifetimes to live every day."
"Well, you haven't got a son here to call."
"I know, he is in the Elsewhere. Although it is very much the same, just with different time. I don't suppose you have that number do you?"
"No" He led me to the bed and I sat down heavily, my shoulders sinking.
"Well could I have my phone fixed so that I can place the call when I get it right in my mind again."
"No you aren't allowed a phone."
"Yes, that's right I remember now, too many calls to requests visits and daisies, you know how much I enjoy them." I slid my legs under the blankets and lay down on the pillow.
"Yes, you enjoy daisies." He pulled the comforter up to my chin and headed towards the door.
I sat bolt upright in bed. "I had a visit today from my friend, she brought me the flowers in the chair, do see if you can find them a vase, I crushed them when I hugged her, I was so glad to see her. They are right there on the chair, be careful, they are so very fragile." I pointed towards the blooms.
"This mess?"
"Yes, right there on the chair."
"But these aren't daisies, just torn up newspapers."
"Oh" I lay back down.
Tossing my blooms into the garbage his silhouette in the door frame I begged one more question, "And the brown shoes? Are they gone too?"
"There are no shoes here, too uncomfortable and noisy, just your slippers, so that you don't make a racket in the hallway."
"right, we wouldn't want to disturb." I muttered under my breath.
The door closed and I heard the locks click. Twice. Three times.
I smiled, my OCD was rubbing off on him too.
I sobbed myself to sleep saying goodbye to my son. This lifetime-day was over.
I think that tomorrow I shall visit my friend in the hospital. I remember something about an accident.
Drown
I was just dreamily walking along the beach, minding my very own business, following the footprints made by those before me. It was nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a steady walk. I unlaced my sandals and left them where they fell, too focused on the way the sand felt to care about keeping them. They weren't that attractive anyhow. Besides, who needs shoes on a beach? They were an odd gift that I should have exchanged upon receipt. I felt good about my decision to abandon the shoes, I laughed and flipped my hair, and added a bit more spring to my step.
The sun glinting off the water caught my eye and captured my attention. I looked steadily at the horizon trying to decipher the shapes, but the sun was too bright and it stung my eyes to keep looking. I forgot them and I walked on.
I can't describe for you what it was that made me decide to enter the water. It was like a nod of encouragement, but there was no head to nod. It was like a teasing, luring smile; but there was no face. It was as if the eyes were leering, challenging me; but yet there were no eyes. I did not choose to ignore this challenge. I walked in willing.
The surf washed over my bare feet sending refreshing shivers up my spine. I hadn't imagined that the water would be so cold. I realized that the hot sand had caused my feet to burn quite badly and I was thankful for the cool rush. The first few steps were soft and welcome. When the water was at my knees the sand ended and my feet started to slip on the smooth stones. It was here that I noticed the blisters. My initial thought was that the sandals had caused the blisters. I cursed them under my breath, angry at the pain. But no sooner had the curses left my lips than a blush crept into my cheeks, the shame of the false accusation falling hard. I
knew that the sandals were not the source of the pain, it was my walk
without them; my feet had blistered from the harsh sands.
Scanning the beach I realized that I had walked quite far without them. I should have gone back to get them, but I did not. I waded in deeper. When the water reached my stomach I sharply inhaled, it was shockingly frigid. For a long moment I was unable to move, unable to breathe, I counted my heartbeats waiting for it to pass, my arms and legs began to shake and I adopted chicken skin. I glanced doubtfully at the sun wondering how its rays could burn the sands and ignore the sea. Hatefully, I plunged in deeper. The rocks under my feet became sharp, the icy water numbed my senses and I rushed over them, moving faster than I thought was possible at this shoulder depth. It seemed as if I had reached a pateau of sorts, an icy, sharp, level sea. I looked behind me...but the shore was gone. I was surrounded by sea.
The coldness now sunk in deep. This
COLD no longer simply affected my skin, it was being absorbed in my muscles, each limb started to ache with the pain of it. Shivering I turned around, but there was no place to go. I stumbled over jagged rocks that tore at my feet. I fell often in my haste, scraping my knees, my elbows, my shoulders. I wouldn't cry. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I was fine. I stumbled on. I thought of my sandals, what a sweet relief they would be on these bloody feet. I thought of the hot sands that I had wished away, mocking my own foolishness. I tried to remember just what hot felt like, but it was only a wisp of a memory, I clung to it fearing that it would fail to exist if I did not.
I was lost. An endless expanse of shoulder-deep, arctic sea, covering an equally endless sea of piercing rocks. I turned slowly...
all was horizon, all was like glass. I walked on for moments or for days, I will never know...but suddenly my feet grazed over sand. Joy shot through my entire being as I hastily moved into such a soft and welcoming bit of comfort. But when I stood on the sand I had to tilt my head back to be able to breathe, for the water here was deeper. I couldn't swim, so I balanced on my tip toes in the sand rejoicing to be free of the rocks.
This joy was short lived as the water grew deeper. I was seemingly chained to the sand, unwilling to climb back to the rocks and the pain, but unable to breathe. I held my breathe and my ears started to ring...1 minute without air... my eyes began to sting...3 minutes without air... my lungs began to burn from the pressure...7 minutes...I was dizzy and loosing consciousness but I would not go back to the rocks. I closed my eyes to keep the world from spinning around me and then came the visions. I could see truth with my eyes closed. The reality was not the ocean, reality was behind my eyes. Startled my eyes flew open...still stinging from the lack of oxygen and the salt water...9 minutes without air...I closed my eyes, just a rest, I explained wearily. Instantly I could see a world that I knew but had forgotten in the sea, I was standing on a high cliff overlooking the reality of my life, there was a small village below me with primitive huts and open fires. Dirty children ran, laughing through the paths, dogs barked at nothing in particular, and I bent was over a garden pulling weeds. I watched from a distance as I sat back on my knees and wiped the sweat from my forehead. I opened my eyes, to the stinging salt water, and lack of air, but now there was a new taste of sweat. I opened my mouth to breathe and the ocean closed in on me, to save my life, I closed my eyes one last time. I walked down from that mountain and began to pull weeds.
And now, if I open my eyes I will drown.
Of Fruit and Fish
My new favorite foods are fruits and fish...because they taste so fantastic and because they are so gosh darn easy to prepare. I am talking, fish is entirely cooked in like 9 minutes! My life is so easy and good. And I would write more except that now my dinner is done. :*
Beautiful Day
I would just like to say that today was a most excellent day. I did have to skip my bible study group thing in order to finish some grading *blah* however I have finally finished a huge project with my students. TA DA. Just in time to start a new report on Monday. Yippee!
I got a lot acomplished this weekend. And I think that I have determined that wherever I move next I shall be living by myself because I have greatly enjoyed haveing the apartment all to my lonesome these past few days. (Sorry to all of you out there who wanted to be the next roommate of mine. You will survive! ;-) )
I got a blood blister on my left thumb and it still really hurts. It was while I was bemoaning my pain after school on Friday that the thought crossed my mind that I will
never be able to endure childbirth. But that very night while the crowd was focused on a juggler I was captivated by a much smaller person beside me. She was less than a week old. She was beautiful. She was perfect. And I looked at the stupid blister on my thumb and thought..."I would go through anything for that." So I may very well decide to have children after all.
Story Time
Once Upon a time there was a great band called Mitchell. Much to my distress they broke up. However, a few brave gentlemen have picked themselves up and started anew. They have banded together to form a new group: Keslinger (another Seth Deming name if I were to hazzard a guess).
Lend them your ears.
Then give voice to your thoughts. And you shall live happily ever after. The Begining of a new great thing.
