Friday, April 29, 2011

Til Death Do Us Part?

I found a bunch of old songs I had written in college and a little after. Wow. I was a mess. It's like reading through my diary. Anyway, I found this specific song that I had written in the first year that Steven and I were married. I remember playing it for Steven in our living room and really thinking this was the beginning of the end for us. We were realizing how different we were from each other, and from what we thought the other one would be. It seemed like we wanted so very different things. I'm not sure specifically what we did to stay together. But we did. And I am glad. So glad. Today there are still echoes of that first year. Steven wants to go go go, I want to stay stay stay. Steven has expectations A, B, and C . . . and I have expectations X, Y, and Z. But ultimately we are at least on one page that is the same . . . we want to be together, and that makes all the difference.

I have some distant friends that have gotten a divorce. It seemed to be a mutual and calm decision. They wanted different things. They didn't want to hold each other back from achieving those things, so they let each other go. On one hand, I understand that feeling. On the other hand, I wonder what they cheated each other out of by separating themselves. Anyways, it reminded me of this song I wrote.

til death do us part
but how long, how far?
guess you don't think about those things
when you are sampling the cake, and ya got a diamond ring
here we are just a few months later
and you feel like we are just falling apart
well you got dreams, and i got things that i could be doing now

young love is so short-lived
if you do not make it grow
we cannot be one if
we can't let each other go

the bitter taste of second and third loves
like day old coffee in a new white mug
the dull ache of being resented
these are the sights and sounds of an everlasting love?
here we are, how did we get here
we followed all the plans and the wisdom of the age
discontent with others dreams
my desires can't be heard and can't be seen

so spread your wings and go where you want to
i'll let you know what i need
we gotta go, we gotta try it
these are hungers we can't refuse to feed
cause i refuse to realize later
when i'm 75 laying in my bed
that i did not do all that i could and all that i wanted
with my life, and i can't blame you

See? A mess. Wow.

Sunday, April 17, 2011


I'm going to admit something to you (whoever that is).

I feel like a failure for one main reason - because I am pursuing something other than teaching. It doesn't matter than I am now pursuing another very important career path. I wanted to teach for as long as I can remember, went to 4 years of very expensive school to teach, and then taught for 3.5 years.

But the truth is there were so many really really hard days. Then there were days when I just didn't like it (not because it was hard, just because). Then there were these shining days of glory that made it all worth it. Then there were just happy, normal days. I guess this can be expected from any career.

I try to justify my career move, by saying that taking care of my grandmother has revealed this inner-nurse in me. That is true, but it is also true that I've been looking for an escape from teaching almost as soon as I started teaching. I feel guilty because I was a good teacher. I'm not bragging, I just was. Not every teacher is a good teacher. Not every teacher is a thoughtful teacher. So I feel like I took a thoughtful teacher out of the mix for none other reason than I wanted to find something new.

There are not a lot of careers I can think of that would cause such guilt. Maybe because it is working with children. Maybe because education is important to me. I think it's because, in my mind, I don't think just anyone can replace an individual teacher. It's such a personal job. I don't know.

As I've been pursuing this nursing career, I've yearned for teaching again. That's just me, and may not need to be taken seriously. I want what I don't have. Humans generally do. But anyways, I know that I would really genuinely enjoy nursing. I know that it would be a really great investment in my family's life. But I will always have a passion for teaching children. At the same time, I know if I don't follow this pursuit to finish, I will always wonder "what if". I will continuously be looking for that escape from my first complicated love.

I think in a sense I get this way around April every year (teacher job hunting time). I scan the school websites and imagine myself teaching in the capacity of the job openings.

No matter what, I am endlessly thankful for the time away from the careers that have taken time from my family. I am excited about nursing school. But there will always be a part of me that will feel like a failure as long as I am not teaching in some capacity.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

your momma

*I wrote this song yesterday. It is for all the children with terrible parents or terrible childhood memories. It is for my daddy.


if i was your momma, i'd build you a ladder

it'd reach up to the clouds you watch so hard

if i was your momma, i'd buy you a thousand books

and if i had no money, i'd get you a library card

if i was your momma, you'd know that i love you

not from guessing, but cause i'd tell you so

if i was your momma, you'd know you'd be safe

cause i'd come get you anywhere you go

but i ain't your momma, i'm just some girl who

sees another hurting eye

but if i was your momma, and i saw you hurting

i'd kick the ass of the ones who made you cry

i don't see how a momma could hurt her child so

i don't see how a child like you could be anything but loved

then again this old world is full of surprises

and surprise, here you are doing fine when the push comes to shove

you are more than your momma, you are more than your daddy

you are more than the bad things that happen as a child

you deserve all the goodness, you deserve all the mercy

you deserve all the love from a momma whose love makes her wild

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Rare Well-Placed Anxiety

I rarely get stressed out. At least not in the same way the masses do. I could be juggling fiery swords on ice skates and feel cool as a cucumber. However, put me sitting in the passenger seat of someone else's car, and I'm totally stressed.

Well, today, the stress of things got to me. There is plenty of stuff going on for me to be stressed about, and I won't name them all. But I will say that I've been caring for my ailing grandmother and growing toddler at the same time for an extended period of time, so my mother could have an extended period of rest (poor lady). Yesterday the proverbial doodoo hit the proverbial fan in certain realms of some of my loved ones' lives. I was fairly cool as a cucumber . . . maybe a cucumber left outside for a few hours on an August day. But then I got not a lot of sleep. And then more proverbial doodoo hitting more proverbial fans. And then started what was thought to be the cleanup of said doodoo, which as you can imagine is the worst part of all.

I took a little break to run an errand today while Davie was napping. I needed to run to Lowe's and get some chalkboard paint for one of my projects. In the car I was feeling weepy and a little nauseous. But I held it together. Walking in Lowe's, I must have looked like a crippled old lady. My legs felt like they were going to disintegrate beneath me. I ached so intensely all over my body.

Anyway, snap to the present, my hero husband came to take Davie elsewhere for the night, so I could have some solitude and peace. I thought I wanted to finish one of my projects, but now that I'm sitting . . . I really like sitting.