Purple Hair, Don't Care

Starting sometime in my teen years, I would regularly get blonde highlights put in my hair, to the point where most people assumed I was a natural dark blonde. 

In 2010, facing unemployment, I went back to my roots, and had my hair dresser die it slightly darker than my natural brown roots. She did that so that as the color faded it wouldn't contrast too much with my natural roots growing out, but I loved the drama of it.

Rediscovering myself as a brunette was fun, and I've never even thought about going blonde again in the years since...though I have experimented with Garnier and done a bit of a red look.

Brunette

Hint of auburn

Almost purple

But recently, I've been eyeing the rainbow hair trend with a tremendous amount of envy. I can't quite get away with full-on mermaid hair in my career, but oh man, I want a fun color. And since one of my colleagues has bits of purple in her hair, I figure, well, why not?

Last week, I bought a temporary color that washes out in 2-3 washes, and on Sunday, I applied it in broad "highlights" on my head.

I bloody love it. Everyone else who has seen it loves it, too.

So I think I'm going to take the plunge, now that the purple has washed out, and get a pro to do something more permanent. Nothing quite so dramatic as what I put in my hair this past weekend--that was done knowing it would wash out if I hated it. But I'm totally willing to have a few well-placed purple face-framing highlights (I wear my hair pulled back from my face at work, so it won't be quite so "out there" in a professional setting). Because it's fun. And it's hair. And because you're only as old as you feel...and I feel very young, thankyouverymuch.

Changes

It's hard to miss the tree right outside the choir room. In the fall, it makes that oh-so-gradual change from summer green to a brilliant, fiery red. This year, I documented its changes on Instagram, taking pics whenever I noticed any major changes.

.

I started to think of it as the Choir Room Tree. It could just as well be the Band Room Tree, but it's just a little bit closer to my door. And I know my friend and colleague Lynn is not Instagramming the tree like I am.

---

I've always rolled pretty well with change. How many times have I moved in my adult life, started over, had a new adventure? Elverta. England. Washington. Antioch. Stockton. Lincoln and the nearly four years I've been here.

Winter this year was pretty stressful--more so than I let on here, or on any of the social media I'm attached to. I was under evaluation from a new boss. Mr. Principal, the one who hired me, loved me, but he retired at the end of my first year at the Large Suburban High School, and a new principal took over, just in time for that crucial year which decides if I stay or if I go. Mrs. Principal was more particular, more terrifying, but we have had a good, congenial relationship. She suggested things I didn't necessarily agree with, but I changed my approach to show her I am open to trying new things. She appreciated it.

I rolled with it.

The Choir Room Tree got ready for winter. I enjoyed a crazy December, then returned in January to finish the evaluation cycle.

I thought this was it. I thought I'd found the place where I would stay, establish something good. I had already started digging, planting. I did establish something good. But it's not to be mine to see grow.

I found out at the end of February. The deadline for these things is March 15th. Mrs. Principal was so bloody nice about it, except for telling me I'm "not the right fit." She assured me I'm a good teacher. She wrote me a very good letter of recommendation. "Her students adore her." Damn right they do, and the feeling is mutual. How am I the wrong fit?

It's hard to feel like a good teacher. It's hard to feel good about anything when you've put so much heart, so much effort, into something only to be told you won't get to keep it.

I wanted to pull back, but that's easier said than done. My kids are fantastic, and they deserve the best of me, every day. So after a week of licking my wounds, I dusted off and started working my ass off again. I didn't tell them--I couldn't. My last three months with them wouldn't be covered by storm clouds. The more I realized this, the more fun I had. With the pressures of evaluation behind me, and the outcome decided, I could just relax and enjoy working with my kids.

Imagine that.

---

Spring came early. It usually does, around here.  I knew that even as I watched the Choir Room Tree change weekly, my own life would change, again.

It's easy to feel heartbroken. It's easy to wish. What's hard is to look at that tree and know it will continue to cycle through the seasons without me...as will the kids who walk in and out of that nearby choir room.

There will be new kids. I know that every time I make a new step in my life, it leads to something better. I've told my family and friends that perhaps losing this job, being made to leave the Large Suburban High School, is the kick in the ass I need to find something full-time. Let's face it, growing the job at this school to full-time wasn't going to happen soon. I need to take care of myself financially. Dad suggested I go full-time somewhere, stay on at home for a bit, and think about buying a new car. RoPro is 12 years old. It's nice to see possibilities, to make bigger plans.

But it doesn't make it easy to leave. Not this school. On my last teaching day in Antioch, I watched the clock click to release time. The bell rang. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Two very difficult, stressful years were finished, just like that. I won't feel that way here. Packing my personal belongings will be a tedious task. I hate the thought of leaving.

I took my kids to Anaheim, enjoying every minute because I won't be the person to take them next year. One evening, I crowded around a tiny table with a bunch of my girls, talking and laughing and munching on chicken and fries. I spilled ranch dressing on my lap and they all laughed at me as I rolled my eyes and laughed along with them. I sat there and thought, "I'm the right teacher for these kids!! Why can't I stay?!" At times, the unfairness of it all hit me full in the face. I won't deny feeling angry at Mrs. Principal. Of course I've been angry.

---

And so begins The Process. First it's necessary to check Ed-join daily. All the good teaching jobs are posted there, and it's easy to click-click-click-apply. Then came the interviews. Four in the first week--two on the same day. Offers of more. The rejections came, too.

I wear my interview clothes, sweat profusely, fidget a little. I feel like an absolute asshole, but somehow, I guess I come across as charming and articulate. I leave, thinking that the interview panel must be shaking their heads, thinking, "Who was that impostor?!" I suppose it's not that bad, but we are our own worst critics, right?

Emotions course through me every day. Hope that I'll get a job. Fear that I will end up substitute teaching. Sadness at seeing my friends tell me on Facebook that "my kids" are so lucky to have me. I know! Why do I have to leave them?! Anger. Frustration. Bittersweet joy at knowing my choir is going to have a great Spring Concert. Joy as I spend time with them in class, making great music, connecting with them. Rolling my eyes at them (and they at me). When you have a good rapport with your students, there's nothing like it.

Meanwhile, the tree has its summer leaves on.

---

Concert week was hell. Hell. I woke up with a cold on Sunday, and felt pretty rough most of the week. The kids knew, but I still couldn't talk about it without feeling like I'd burst into tears.

We gave a great concert. I had given them my favorite song, "Somewhere Only We Know," to close the set, and they nailed it. It's the kind of song that doesn't need conducting, so I wasn't on stage with them for this one, but rather down on the floor, just keeping time. As the last chord faded away, I put both hands to my heart and grinned up at them. I wanted to laugh from sheer pride, and weep for the heartbreak. I just smiled.

I hope they got the message.

When my choir president gave me flowers, she told the audience how much she and her peers love the variety of music I give them. How much fun choir has been. I know Mrs. Principal was in the audience, and I can't help but hope she squirmed in discomfort. "Not the right fit," my ass.

As the choir kids started dismantling the risers, and the band kids hauled chairs and stands out, my colleague, Lynn, and I crossed paths on the stage. She hugged me. "They sounded good," she said. A high compliment from Lynn. "Thank you," I replied...and in my head, "I know."

---

The choir room tree is at full summer leaf, shading the area in front of the room. It's not the only thing that has changed. My portion of the office is bare, stripped of my Keane posters and personal pictures. My large Snoopy doll has come home. All that remains are the Grizzly Pride posters and some mostly-empty bookcases, ready for someone else to fill.

On Facebook, my profile now lists me as the Former Choir Director at Granite Bay High School. I still don't know where I'm going to land--but the interviews are rolling in. In the meantime, I'm going to start studying for my personal trainer certification--maybe if I need to fall back on that, it will be an option for me. But I'm confident that something will happen for me in music education. I haven't put this much time, and heart, and effort, into what I do to just quit when the chips are down. I haven't found the lasting gig yet, but I will.

My parents were out of town for the concert, so I sent them a long, detailed email about it, and how proud I was. Dad's response, was simple: "Was happy to hear how well concert went. We are proud of you and feel the success of your choir is because of you."

Thank you, Dad.

Everyone who knows me knows just what I've put into the last two years. I promise that every time I talked about what I do, here on the blog, or on Facebook, it's never embellished. My enthusiasm and that of my kids was real. I've spent two years looking around that room, telling myself, "This is mine." That's why it's so baffling that this one didn't work out.

"My" tree is the one to the left in this picture.

---

I take a certain "in your face" pride at knowing that my two senior girls who are singing at graduation picked "Somewhere Only We Know" to audition with. Would they have chosen it if I hadn't taught it to the class? It's unlikely. Mrs. Principal was on the committee that chose the singers for graduation, and she did not know we were doing that song in class...until the concert last week. Perhaps it's childish--okay, it's very childish--but I rather hope she squirmed a little when choir performed it, thinking, "Oh...and two girls love this song and this teacher so much they want to sing this at graduation."

She probably didn't. But it gives me some small comfort to think she might have.

---

They gave me a pitch pipe.

On the day of our final, my kids made me open a gift they'd bought me in front of the whole class. After all the times I've dropped my old pitch pipe, and after it failed to produce an "F" for me at the Spring Concert, prompting a massive eye roll from me and a giggle from my formally-attired choir, they decided I really ought to have a new one. I'll never use it without thinking of them.

And so, I'm finished. My grades are submitted, and my keys are turned in. My personal effects have been removed to my storage unit.

Surprisingly, this week, I'm not quite as sad. I'm still a little angry, but I suppose I'm starting to sort out all of the emotions. I'm starting to see the possibilities.

Mostly, I'm just really ready for my summer vacation. Weeks stretch ahead with not much, and I'm looking forward to getting back to running after a few weeks off. Half Marathon Number Three is on the books for November. I'm getting excited to crack open NASM's Essentials of Personal Fitness Training. The summer fruits and veggies are coming out, and my friend Meghan is suggesting a day trip to Monterey. I have concert tickets for Ben Folds with Summer, and a trip to the Charles Schulz Museum planned.

Maybe this isn't so much a setback as it is an opportunity. I grew a lot at Granite Bay, and damn, did I enjoy it there. I'm not a big believer in God and fate--I don't think there's some outside force making me keep searching in life. Rather, I think this is a sucky situation brought on by a school administrator who wants her people in the jobs, and I can either curl up in a ball and let it defeat me, or shake my fist at the sky and say, "Nope. I'm not losing myself to this one." I choose the latter; that's just how I am.

---

Writing this blog post has taken a few months. I started with the tree because I had to write something (or not blog at all), and I just wasn't ready to make it all public. I've had an image to maintain in front of my kids--yes, they're still, and always, "my kids"--one of professionalism, grace, and dignity. They may suspect what is going on. In fact, I'm sure they do. There was no surprise; they've seen this happen before, with their previous choir teacher.

So I've typed a section here, a section there. I took a few more pictures of my tree. I've come to terms.

I find myself ready to click the "Publish" button, and yet, reluctant. My leaving is official--the papers are signed, everyone knows, and yet, it seems like posting it here makes it Real.

But I owe it to myself to publish this, because in the end, it's just one more Wild and Absolutely True Adventure of Meg. A really good one, with a bittersweet ending. With last week's concert, I feel like I'm going out on top.

And yet...I keep typing, instead of clicking that orange button.

So...here goes.

Dominoes

Push just one...and down they go. Opportunity abounds.

I slept like a baby last night. I hadn't been sleeping well, the last couple of weeks, being plagued by brief 3 a.m. wake-ups and various other issues. It's been a stressful time, you see.

Several weeks ago, I made the decision to work for a company. In the time since then, I have gone back and forth--wildly--between "Yes, I can!" and "Oh, my God, what the hell am I doing?" More and more, I began to believe that this was absolutely not the right move. But I passed my insurance exam last week (by the skin of my teeth) and because I was already up to my eyeballs in all of this, I knew I needed to go for it.

I started on Monday. My gut was telling me that this path was not right, but I went to the office and started the training. When my team leader was in a brief meeting with his boss, I escaped to the ladies room and watched my hands shake. But I gave him my time and attention that morning and vowed I would give this career a fair shake...even when it started to become apparent that it would be longer than expected before I saw any money come in, despite all of this time spent training.

Financially, I just can't accept that. I have bills to pay, and obligations to fulfill. I can't wait 'til May to start making money. And I also could not escape that feeling, deep in my gut, that Meg the People Person is not Meg the Salesperson. And much as it pains me to admit it, I am not savvy enough to manage a business of my own, which is what I would have been doing. The thought of the tax obligations, and putting more money into this before I had any return...it was just too much.

My unsuitability for this career was proven yesterday, when my team leader and I went out "in the field" for some of his business. I was so uncomfortable "cold calling" businesses, walking in and opening conversations about insurance.

Finally, I voiced my doubts to my team leader, and my financial concerns. We had a candid discussion and it ended with him giving me an option to think about things and let him know. But I think he knew which direction I was going. I apologized for wasting his time--he said, "You didn't. I'd rather you figure this out two days in, rather than two months in. Then I'd feel like I'd wasted my time."

Why did I go so far into this? Even knowing I was stressed and miserable and unhappy? The first word that comes to mind is desperation. It is not easy being an unemployed American in this economy. And this particular company talks a good talk about the earning potential and how great it is. It's a fantastic company, but it's not a company for everyone.

The next word is duty. On my own, I decided that I had some sort of duty to my family to do this. For the record, my parents are awesome at acknowledging that I am an adult, capable of making decisions and knowing what is best for myself. It was not their fault that I got it in my head that not proceeding with this would be letting them down...and I admit that as I continued to feel miserable, I almost blamed them, and felt that they saw me as a child. That's not fair. I have to own that I got myself into this without their assistance. Now that I have some clarity, I own it completely, and I am incredibly grateful that my parents accept my decision.

So...I walked away. I was not under contract. Various conversations with a few close friends on Monday helped me find some clarity. Nothing is worth the anxiety, the lack of sleep, the stress I was feeling about my finances and my future. In the immediate future, I need a job in which I can earn money for the work I put in. So I walked away.

It was one of the hardest decisions I've made in a long time. While I absolutely knew it was the best decision I could make, it was still very, very difficult to do. I felt like I might be letting my parents down. I worried they'd be mad (they're not. Confused, perhaps, but they trust me to know what is right for me). I worried that their friend, who works for this company and who has been quite supportive of me, would think I'm a complete flake or moron or both. The good news is that no one thinks I'm a moron. Even the friend, when I called her today, said, "I understand completely."

Yesterday, after I left the office, I wrote to my friends Shae and Nicki about what I'd done. They congratulated me for following my gut and then Shae said, "Things are about to change." I asked her what she meant.

"You have certain moments where you stand up for yourself or make a tough decision and its the first domino."

She was absolutely right. Within a few minutes, I had an interview set up with another company--selling insurance, but more to existing clients or to people who walk into the office. The job has a base salary, with opportunities to earn commission. It's not a sure thing--I got an interview because the man knows my friend Summer (connections matter!). But it's something. The first domino fell.

I went to teach my weekly piano lesson--I have one student currently--and towards the end, my student's best friend came to the door with her mother. The mother saw that I was teaching and immediately asked, "Are you taking any more students?" They live across the street and she wants piano lessons for her two children.

Another domino.

I have spent a lot of time yesterday and today applying for jobs at places like Raley's, Safeway, Home Depot, Whole Foods. I'm going to wear this town out with my job applications and find something to make money. There are careers to be had at some of these places. Careers I can do, and even find satisfaction in.

So there you have it. My financial stress is not over yet--I owe money on my taxes this year, etc. etc. But I know that I can find something and make this work. If anything, this whole debacle has lit a fire under my butt to get serious about finding a job, rather than wistfully staring at Ed-Join every day, wishing for music jobs to open up.

I'm going to knock the dominoes over and watch my life resume the course it was on before I lost my Stockton job.

Grandpa Bean

Today would have been my grandfather's 97th birthday, had he lived this long. Grandma and Grandpa Bean were a huge part of my earliest years; very few childhood memories don't include them. They were of that Greatest Generation that has been dying off in the last twenty years; the generation that rolled up their sleeves and fought a massive world war simply because it needed to be done.

Grandpa Bean was not a particularly educated man. He wasn't destined to be a shiny politician or a rich mogul. He was simply a hard-working, honest man who saved and spent wisely his whole life. The grandfather I knew was quiet, but he loved Aaron and I and seemed to enjoy our antics. He was able to enjoy his retirement because he had worked hard all of his life, even doing jobs he may not particularly have wanted to do.

A couple of evenings ago, Mom, Dad and I got into a discussion about a couple of books I read recently, both set in World War Two. The conversation moved on to a discussion about how fascinating that time in history is; how incredible that so many atrocities and shameful historical incidents like the Holocaust and the many atrocities of that time could occur (even, yes, in the United States, with the Japanese Internment) and yet, so many regular people could stand up and fight for others.

Grandpa Bean, and my Grandpa Cooper, as well, were both too old to go off to war, but both joined the military effort here at home. I'm sure neither particularly wanted to be soldiers--they had wives and families to think about--but the need was there, and they just rolled up their sleeves and did what needed to be done.

I started thinking about this last night. I have, of course, been self-absorbed of late about my own career prospects the last few weeks. For whatever reason, I am stubbornly clinging to this attitude that I will not like my new gig, selling insurance. My gut has been telling me it's all wrong, it's not a "good fit," and I'm honestly and truly terrified to go for it. But something occurred to me last night. What would Grandpa Bean have done in my situation? If faced with very few job prospects in his usual field, and an opportunity to start making a living in a new field he didn't particularly want anything to do with, what would he have done?

Simple: He would have taken the job, and done his best at it. He would have been glad to have something to pay the bills and keep food on the table.

And I am, too. Deep down, the thought of having an income, not to mention a purpose, again, is satisfying. I can't necessarily help that twisty feeling inside that I won't be happy doing it, but I can go in with the attitude of, "I will do this because I must. And something that is even better for me may come along soon." As one very wise friend pointed out last night, just having a job will make me appear more employable to the rest of the world than being unemployed does. So maybe taking on this job I don't really want will be the catalyst towards moving me out of two years of stagnation and unemployment to something that is even better for me.

I have very little hope that education will be a door that is open to me this year. Every day, I hopefully check Ed-Join, and there are so few jobs, and I know there are so many unemployed teachers in this state. But perhaps, as I get out in the community selling for my new job, a more reliable career path will be opened to me. I'm hopeful that opportunities will start appearing so that I can grab hold of them.

In the mean time, I need to take a lesson out of Grandpa Bean's book. I need to roll up my sleeves and do what needs to be done.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa. Thanks for being a great example.

Grandma Bean, my Aunt Donna holding my mom, and Grandpa Bean.
Circa 1946-47

This must have been taken in the 1960s.

This would have been sometime between 1987 and 1991, in our home
in Folsom.

August 1978

Finding Calm In Stormy Weather

It should be apparent, if you've been keeping up with the LPB, that lately, when I'm not bragging about my fitness accomplishments, I'm stressing out over an upcoming insurance licensing exam I've got this week (Thursday). And a career change. And everything that comes with being a typical Leo, which is a fixed fire sign (Holy Stubborn Streak, Batman!!). For a woman who moved to England to take a teaching position, I am remarkably resistant to change sometimes.

Let's not lie. I'm terrified of starting a new career. What if I hate it? What if I'm bad at it? (Leo pride is famous, you know.) What if I can't manage my time working for myself? What if I can't get my morning workouts in? What if?!?!

I have this tendency to worry about things long before I need to--I realized that this week and I'm consciously making an effort to knock it off.

I'll let you know how I do.

The good news is that I have a lot of fantastic, stabilizing influences in my life--friends, family, my cats, running, and my twice-weekly workouts with M. the Reasonable. Choir. Listening to Keane. Angry Birds on my Kindle. Reading romance novels. (Don't judge. It's escapism.)

The even better news is that while I have my moments of anxiety and I've had a few too many crying jags in the last few weeks, I'm not balancing on a ledge or anything like that. I'm just stubbornly refusing to admit that hey, maybe this could...you know, turn out alright. Better than alright--maybe even really, really great.

A week or two ago, Mom and I were discussing my lack of belief in myself. Mom said, "Why don't you believe you can do this? Everyone else thinks you can! Why not you?" To which I replied, "Why don't you believe in yourself sometimes? Everyone else thinks you're awesome!" Mom paused, smiled, and replied, "Touche." Turns out that part of being human is being our own worst critics.

As I acknowledge my weaknesses, I find I'm achieving a greater sense of calm. I've been able to really focus this weekend on the online course, and I'm not a basket case over wrong answers and my own perceived lack of understanding. I'm learning the tricks of the questions and how to read and look for context clues (something I spent 8 of the last 10 years teaching my students to do, how 'bout that?) and I'm finding that so much of it is common sense and careful reading...hey, I can do this!

Yesterday, I was driving from a training with my soon-to-be company to the gym when up ahead I saw a car with "Trust God" scrawled on its back window. Normally, I roll my eyes at such things, or ignore them all together, but yesterday, I simply smiled. And I thought, "Yeah. Trust God." Yes, my definition of God is, perhaps, different than the (I'm assuming) Christian driver of the car ahead...but as I drove towards the gym, a sense of calm settled over me as I realized that as long as I do everything I'm supposed to do--work hard, keep on eye on "my six" when I can, and go out there and do what needs to be done, the universe will return in kind. And when things are difficult, God or the universe still have my back. I just have to trust that all of this is pointing towards something better, and set about making it so.

I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. The new career will either work out, or it won't. The bottom line is, I owe it to myself to give it a try, and to do everything in my power to stay calm. (If you need me, I'll be out running my anxiety off.)

Stuff and Things and Changes and Whatnot

Life has a funny way of twisting and turning on you, and before you know it, there you are. Sitting at your computer learning all about life insurance, preparing for a state insurance exam so you can begin your latest career selling supplemental insurance for a company that is represented by a duck.

I never, ever dreamed of selling insurance.

But here I am. Earlier this week, I had a huge crisis in which I was convinced I was making the biggest mistake of my life. I've calmed down since then, but I'm still quite apprehensive about everything that lies ahead. Despite the compliments from friends, telling me I have a great personality and a very trustworthy air about me, I'm still not convinced I can sit down with business owners and convince them that they ought to provide what I'm selling to their employees. I've been told that I actually have exactly the type of demeanor that will not only get me in the door, but also selling very well...but I'm not 100% sure that I want to spend the next six months, year, two years, whatever doing this.

Maybe I'll love it. I know the earning potential is much better than teaching, and I will be my own boss. Now that, I really love. Imagine, no principal telling me what to do. Lovely, right? I can work from home when I'm not out setting up new accounts, and I can set my own hours. If I want to work out with M. the Reasonable at 7:00 in the morning, then come home and run, I can do that. I can work in my pajamas, or my workout gear (though I'll probably be more productive if I shower and at least stick some jeans on. On the days I'm going out to businesses, of course I will dress up.

There are some huge advantages to what I'm doing, and from everything I've learned so far, the company is incredibly supportive of its associates in the field. I've spoken with two ladies who have worked for them for many years--a friend of my parents, and her daughter. Both were candid with me, not sugar-coating anything. And both are convinced that if I put 100% effort into it for the first couple of years, I can have the same kind of success that they have.

Friends are already telling me that the product sells itself, and I'm quite lucky to be selling a product that has been marketed with pure genius. Everything about the marketing has ensured that people don't find the commercials offensive or off-color. People know the company, they know how the product works, and selling it shouldn't be all that difficult--especially as California is still a somewhat-new market for it.

The bottom line is...I'm terrified. Since high school, my mind has centered on the "I'm a teacher" mentality. It's what I wanted to be, what I studied to be, what I became, what I held on to through almost two years of unemployment. Changing that line of thought is downright terrifying. I have felt, this week, almost like I'm mourning the death of a career path.

Another source of anxiety has been my fear of being stuck. Once I get going in this, what if I find I hate it? What if, six months from now, I'm miserable? Will I be stuck? Heavens no, but I forget that sometimes.

So forward I go. I'm learning about life insurance, and I am scheduled to take the state exam on the 13th. Most of what I'm studying won't apply to what I'm selling, but I have to get the license. It's a lot of information, and it's quite stressful memorizing it all. I find most of it quite dull. But I've passed many a test to be a teacher and I know I can pass this one, too.

Then I can go forth and still be a teacher--only this time, I'll be educating people on why my product is something they can benefit from. I hope to be good at it.

In Which A New Adventure Commences

I'm reluctant to really say anything this early in the game, but the news will start slipping out as things progress, so...here you go:

I am kinda-sorta back among the gainfully employed. And--the appropriateness of this will not be lost on any of you who know all about Mr. Swimmy--my new employer will be a duck.

It has finally sunk in that education is an ongoing mess of budget cuts and bureaucracy, and that my chances of 1) getting a position and 2) finding any sort of stability in that position are very slim. My unemployment runs out in June. It's been a "fun" two year break from the daily grind, but with time running out and things being as they are, I have to turn to other avenues.

So today, I signed some papers, enrolled in an online course, and I am now the newest trainee for the local Aflac office.

The earning potential in selling Aflac is huge--of course, it will first take a lot of learning, a lot of work, and a lot of initial rejection as I learn my way around things. I am terrified, to say the least. But I'm also using positive visualization tools to help see myself as successful in the industry, and taking my career switch one day, one step, at a time.

This afternoon, I had to stop by my storage unit. I opened a box that I keep my music in and found a few Chinese New Year things from a lesson I taught many years in my career. My heart felt heavy as I wondered to myself what I should do with the boxes of teaching stuff I have lovingly used and kept over the last decade. I won't get rid of it, but it makes me sad that I won't be using it any time soon, too. I hate leaving a career I love and that I'm good at, and I also felt a lot of anger at the woman who pushed me away from it in 2010. But that's not productive. What happened, happened. It is what it is. I have to make what I can from it and that's exactly what I'll do.

So I put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Maybe in a few years, education will be on the upswing again, and if I find I want to go back, I can go back. But then, maybe I'll be so happy with what I'm doing, and the excellent money that is to be had in it once you really get going, that I'll decide to keep going with it.

That's the really cool thing about life--you are allowed to change your path. You don't have to be stuck.

So wish me luck. I'm thinking tomorrow I'll head out on a day trip somewhere to clear my head and celebrate new possibilities. Next week, I put my nose to the grindstone, complete my 52-hour online course and some training sessions at Aflac, and get on my way. 

Changes

Warning: Rambling ahead

On Saturday evening, I went out for a quick walk around my neighborhood. I was feeling listless and bored in my boxed-up apartment. Even though I still have my computer set up (though that, too, will be boxed up so I can take it to Mom and Dad's house tomorrow), there's only so much of that I can take before the need to get up and move takes over.

It was just before twilight--that time of day where it's still safe for kids to ride their bikes and where people are taking that post-dinner stroll before tucking into the house to watch TV. I noticed that it's starting to get darker a little bit earlier; we're cycling through the seasons and oh-so-slowly, it's starting to look like fall is on its way.

The mornings have been cooler--there's the tiniest little bite of crispness when I open my windows in the morning. The days are still hot, but summer is fighting a losing battle here.

The changes are so subtle, I'm sure most people don't even notice them, or even particularly care. There's too much going on. School is starting back up, there are jobs to be done and clothes to buy and bills to pay. But in my current state of limbo, it's easy to stop and take a moment to notice nature's subtle way of nudging us closer to fall.

Not so subtle are the changes in my life. I no longer feel cozy and comfortable in my apartment. This morning I boxed up all of my dishes and glasses. Any meals I eat today must be of the "use your hands" variety (I'm thinking Subway for lunch). The walls are empty, the throw pillows and blankets packed away. My knick-knacks and Grandma's china are lovingly packed. The only personal touches left are the toiletries on the bathroom counter and a few pieces of clothing scattered around.

Tonight I will sing with Stockton Chorale one last time. I had a lovely email from Magen yesterday, thanking me for the time and work I've given to the organization. The best compliment, however, was her telling me that I comport myself like a professional at rehearsals. I think of myself as a professional musician--after all, I have a degree and I have made my living teaching music--so to be told that I behave like one is high praise, indeed.

And tomorrow, I will load up Rosie Pro and drive to Mom and Dad's house. I will stay there from here on out, spending only one more night in Stockton after tonight. Next Tuesday I will drive down, bringing a book to read, my crossword puzzles, and my iPod to stay entertained. I want to make sure I can park in the spot closest to my apartment, so the movers can back the truck up there on Wednesday morning. I'll spend some time cleaning this place from top to bottom, removing pretty much every trace that I ever called it home.

It's funny. I don't feel like I'm really giving up my independence. There will be an adjustment period at Mom and Dad's. Dad can get a little overzealous with his worrying, and I know he'll be on me for a while with the questions about job hunting and working out. In time, he'll settle down as he realizes that I've got a handle on it, so if I can just keep my patience, and wait 'til he's not looking to roll my eyes, we'll be just fine.

I'll establish a routine again--gah, how I've been missing having a routine!--and my days will be filled with working out, job hunting, promoting my eBay and Etsy shops, and singing. I look forward to my first rehearsal with Sacramento Choral Society next week, and I know that having a place to sing is absolutely the best thing during this transition.

So many changes around me. I suppose it's all very daunting, but mostly, I'm handling it quite well. I get the feeling that moving in with Mom and Dad for a while is just the kick in the rear my life needs to take off in a new direction. I love Stockton, but I've been stagnating here for a while now.

A lot of people are afraid of change. I guess I've learned to embrace it, to make it work for me. It's inevitable, after all. Summer will gradually turn to fall. Happens every year, and we barely even take notice.

Letting Go

I got "unfriended" on Facebook last week, by someone I once thought would be a friend for a long time.

Throughout my life, I've learned that friendships change. They come, they go. Sometimes you just drift away from someone and there are no hard feelings--it's just that their purpose in your life is finished and you both move on with happy memories and a certain fond feeling when you think of them. Sometimes friendships end in a rush of drama--accusations, hurtful actions. That's happened, too.

But this faded friendship is different. Just a short few years ago, she was one of my best friends, and I think I was up there on her list, too. We shared so much with each other. We talked, we laughed. We loved the same movies and drinks and places.

People change. I changed. She changed. But even through all that change, I cared about her. Sometimes I got frustrated with her propensity to act like a mother (she's eight years older than me) who knows best, or to psycho-analyze everything I do. I think we were both willing to overlook the quirks and appreciate the whole...until we weren't.

My life has taken so many twists and turns in the last 10 years, and in the seven years I've been friends with her alone, I've moved to England, then to Washington, then back to California. When I left Antioch and got offered a job in Stockton, her reaction was, "Stockton?! Are you crazy?" And yet moving to Stockton was the best move I could have made--it's in Stockton where I've found Chorale, and found the self-love I needed to lose weight and take better care of myself.

It was that self-love that initially seemed to alienate her in 2008. There was an email about "putting others down to make yourself look better," which shocked me. I thought my new confidence would make her happy for me. I read and re-read my message that had inspired this chastisement, and couldn't find where I had done this.

There was going from "You'd better be at my wedding!" to "I have to uninvite you, the guest list is too big, we can't afford 100 people, and [husband's] colleagues wouldn't understand if they weren't invited." I told her I understood; even as inside, it hurt that I was suddenly less important than colleagues.

Our friendship cooled. Then I noticed she was no longer present on Facebook...or, rather, she was no longer present on my Facebook. That was later said to be a mistake. And in March of 2009, we decided that the friendship was too important to either one of us to let it die. So we let bygones be bygones and made a new start. Our friendship was different now, but we still cared.

She moved to the east coast that summer. Her husband had been laid off and he got a new job. I saw her once or twice before she moved, but she was busy, I was busy. Once she was gone, we kept in pretty good touch via email, but I knew that our previous closeness would never come back. I was okay with this. People grow and change, right? Still, I wanted to know how she was doing.

My last email to her was a little over a month ago. We'd been writing back and forth with some regularity. I sent off a newsy little email and never heard back. I sent a card via snail mail, as I have for many people of late. Nothing. Occasionally, she'd click "Like" on something I posted on Facebook, but that was it. I would reciprocate, but not do anything else. I wondered if I'd said something, then figured that she was just busy.

And then she was gone. I went to read her blog yesterday, and I no longer have permission (she keeps it private). I checked for her on Facebook, and we're no longer friends.

At first, I was a little hurt. Perhaps a little indignant. "What, you don't want to be friends with me?!" Then I was angry. "What the hell do you think I did? Can't you even have the balls to tell me?" Then I accepted that our friendship really has never been strong since two years ago...and that, perhaps, I've always been a little angry with her for things she said and did at that time.

But what really struck me--what really shocked me--was that it took me a few days to realize she was gone from my life. She had slipped from a "person I tell everything right away" to "eh, I'll tell her later." Even, sometimes, "I won't tell her that...she wouldn't understand."

I've had about twenty-four hours to process my feelings about the end of this friendship, and if I'm honest, I'm still a little sad, a little hurt, a little angry. And shockingly, I'm relieved...because in the last two years, I sometimes felt like I was tip-toeing around her, never crowing too loudly about the things I was proud of for fear of being thought too boastful; never showing more than a lukewarm opinion for fear of being treated like a child who doesn't know what she's talking about. It was exhausting, and I resented her for it. It's not her fault I felt that way--after all, I could have been more open, more honest, and I wasn't. Still, it took its toll.

I am blessed to have friends the world over--some who were once close but now not-so-much (though we keep in contact via Facebook and genuinely care about one another), and others who remain close. I have old friends and new friends. I have close friends and acquaintance-friends. I am blessed to have them...and I was blessed to have her for a time. Because there was a time when she was one of my best friends, where she was important, where we were "past-life twins." And that time is done.

I changed. She changed. No use being angry about it.

Simple Pleasures

I have a lot of time on my hands these days, and not a whole lot of money. What's a girl to do to keep from going insane from boredom? Well, I've been finding pleasure in the simple things, in a little bit of a simpler life. Here are some of the things I've been doing to scale back, save money, and have something to do besides sitting in front of my computer waiting for emails and Facebook activity. Because really, a girl could drive herself bananas.

1. Food

Hey, I've gotta eat, right? And eat healthily. I've also got to keep the grocery bills to a minimum, so I've been getting creative. There is something satisfying in the act of being creative in the kitchen--both in terms of health and in finances.

Lunch is cheese--I buy the cheap blocks and cut it myself (cue "cutting the cheese jokes in 5, 4, 3...)--with crackers, half an apple, a bunch of grapes and a couple of hard-boiled eggs. It doesn't sound like much, but it's filling and delicious.

I've stopped buying the bags of salad and spinach and I'm simply buying the much cheaper bunches, washing them myself, and using them up. A bag of pre-washed spinach at my market is $3.49. If I buy a bunch that I have to wash and cut up myself, it's $1.49, and there's more to it. I bought some today to make spinach and asparagus quiche, and some homemade spinach and artichoke dip.

Taking the time to wash and prep food gives me something productive to do, and it makes me think about what I'm eating and how much I'm putting in my mouth each day. I save money, and I keep up with my healthy eating goals.

2. Snail Mail

I had to buy a bunch of stamps the other day. Every two weeks I have to mail a form back to EDD to keep claiming my unemployment checks. The nearest outgoing mailbox to my apartment is just next to my grocery store (on the way to the gym) so I've gotten in the habit of taking my mail there as I walk to the gym in the morning. I love having a bunch of letters to put in the box--I've always loved sending and receiving snail mail, and I'm getting back in the habit of sending notes and cards again. Postcards for my brother (he collects, and I just finally found some Stockton cards!), letters and cards to friends, etc. So if I have your address, be on the lookout for snail mail.

There's something so lovely and personal about getting a card or letter. My friend Maayan was so pleased to get a thank-you note from me (hey, she got Richard's autograph for me!!) because it came with a Visa bill. Obviously, she needed a pick-me-up.

I even enjoy the process of addressing an envelope, and putting the stamp on just so.

3. Creativity

I got some stamps out today and made a card for a friend. It wasn't anything overly fancy, but it felt good to make something. I've taken a week or so off from my scrapbooking, and I think I'll get that out again soon. It makes me happy to be creative and make pretty things. Maybe I'll even make some cards to sell on Etsy.

4. Volunteering

My work with Animal Friends Connection is a godsend. I still clean cages at PetCo every Sunday morning, and I've even taken to offering to fill in for people who can't make their normal cleaning times. I know that it's just a little thing, but it's helping people who are helping the cats. And I get to cuddle the little sweeties who need some affection and attention.

Fostering the Peanuts gang was wonderful, of course, and I fully expect to see them soon, once they're all spayed and neutered. They'll be so big now, and I can't wait to see if Charlie Brown is still sweet, Lucy still sassy and talkative, Snoopy still the leader of the pack, and Linus still a little shy.

In other volunteer opportunities, I have been asked (begged, even) to come help out in the classroom of a lady who is in Chorale with me. She teaches 5th grade, and would love to have me in to tutor some of her kids. I worked with her husband at one of my school sites last year, and he told her I was very good with the kids. Her principal (also involved with Chorale) told me other teachers at the school would be happy to have some help, too. It would keep me working with kids, it would get me out of the apartment, and I could probably get an excellent letter of recommendation out of doing it. Win-win, for sure.

5. Blogging

I've been a little lax this last week--just not much to blog about. I go through ups and downs of blogging. Some weeks I can hardly stop, and I churn out a dozen posts in a few days, and others, I'm a dry well, looking for inspiration.

6. Movies

Obviously, it's too expensive to go to just any movie at the cinema (but Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? I'll be there WITH BELLS ON. Count on it!). And part of me wondered if I could justify paying $20 a month for my Blockbuster membership.

I can. For $20 a month I can rent unlimited movies online, have them mailed to my home, and mail them back without paying any postage. This afternoon, I watched Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn in "The African Queen," which I'd never seen. It was marvelous.

7. Chorale

Chorale had a fundraiser last night. For $25, we had tons of hors d'ouvers and wine while listening to a jazz singer and her backing trio. She was a little flat (I was not the only person to say this) but I was surrounded by some of the wonderful people from Chorale, who I hadn't seen since May.

On Tuesday, we are having our first-ever Summer Sing--it's an informal night for old members to come start learning the music for this fall, and for people who are curious about Chorale to come see what its about. Our season will start in earnest right after Labor Day, and I can hardly wait. After the long summer off, I'm ready to dust off my vocal cords (I sing at home all the time, but not in my very high voice) and get my Mozart on. We're doing his famous Requiem this fall with the symphony, and it promises to be amazing. We're also welcoming our new artistic director, Magen Solomon (great name, even if she mixed up her vowels, eh?). She's amazing--an excellent communicator and vocal instructor from what I've seen so far.

So Chorale will be a much-needed outlet this year. I'm just happy that I get to have a third year with them.

8. Keane

Whenever I go through transitions in life, I tend to develop obsessions. It's a pattern. When I left college, it was NASCAR. This summer, it's definitely Keane. Though I've been absolutely loving their music for over a year now.

So yes, there are silly blog posts like the one down yonder using song titles, and I spend perhaps a bit more time than I should reading the forum at their official web page. I've also taken up writing Keane Haiku on Twitter--some of my Keane friends and I are having a ton of fun with that. It's another creative outlet--I love word play.

Some of my best so far:

9. Tea. Lots and lots of tea.

I've been drinking so much tea lately, I'm surpised I haven't floated away.

What I'm loving about this strange cool summer we're having is that I can drink hot tea and not sweat it out five minutes later. I've taken to drinking a small pot with my lunch each afternoon. When it is warm enough outside that I need my air conditioner, hot tea is actually very nice.

10. Creative Spending

Thanks to birthday money and my most recent unemployment checks, I overpaid a few bills, have plenty for September rent, and have a little stashed away in savings. If I'm frugal at the grocery store, and keep my trips there to once a week (with maybe one other trip to pick up fresh apples and such), then I can keep my spending to a minimum. I walk to the gym and run my errands all together to save gas--and Rosie Pro is very good with gas economy.

I find I have enough left over to buy the little necessary things and keep that money in savings untouched. I'm also finding that I can live without "stuff" and be happy buying used books (I have a ton of credit at one place, and they don't even charge you the sales tax. Free books!). I really ought to get a library card, too.

I look for sales, use coupons when I can, and limit myself to necessary stuff only. I find that "living simply" comes easy and isn't too hard on me.


So, you see, I'm managing. I'm actually quite at peace with being unemployed, and figure that if I volunteer at my Chorale friend's school, it will look great on my resume as I continue applying for jobs. There are still music jobs cropping up on Ed-Join from time to time, so all hope for employment is not lost. But with so many people applying for every job, there is a very real chance that I won't find something this school year. I may as well make the best of it, right?

Letting Go/Purging

I just ransacked my closet, tearing out everything that is too big and stuffing it into bags to take to Goodwill. It felt good to try on my brown cordouroy pants tha I wore all winter and realize that I can pull them on and off without unbuttoning or unzipping them. Several winter sweaters and my brown wool coat from Lane Bryant are outta here.
And so are some special items.
I have two Snoopy sweatshirts that are simply too huge to wear anymore. They were almost too big even when I was 220 pounds--now, they're like tents. But oh, how I love those sweaters! I haven't seen them since I bought them a few years ago at the Snoopy Gallery and Gift Shop, so they're not easily replaced in a smaller size. I hemmed and hawed for a moment, then whipped them out of the closet and put them on the bed.

I'm not hiding my body in tents anymore.

Also bittersweet was the removal of my beloved London hoodie. I bought it in Stratford a week before I left England in 2005. It was a last-minute splurge, and it's been a favorite ever since. Now, it's too big, and I have no idea when I'll get back to England to buy another.

Despite the few pieces I'm sad to let go of, overall, purging my closet is awesome. What is left are clothes that fit my body now--in sizes medium and large instead of XL and XXL. My clothes are more fitted, less baggy. They're brighter, instead of the "slimming" all black and dark hues. I threw my size 14 jeans into the Goodwill pile, but kept the 12s to use as work jeans. Soon, those will go, replaced by my 10s, when I find that I'm wearing size 8 jeans most of the time.
Hot Girl has come to stay.

The Dark Side

I officially went there. I had my hairdresser take me back to my roots. She matched it up and gave me a "richer" version of my natural hair color. The truth is revealved, dear readers: This California Girl is not a natural blonde (but she was as a child!).

Right after getting my hair done, I drove straight back to Stockton, to the gym. I arrived about one minute before the monthly Boot Camp class started. It was a brutal hour of squats, lunges, push-up position exercises, and Burpees. Before we started, I showed off my much-darker ponytail to G. the Meanie (who, you might recall, had quite and emphatic opinion about my hair color and widow's peak on Tuesday). His girlfriend said, "I like your hair--it makes your eyes pop!" And it really does.

The reviews on Facebook have been very positive...and most importantly, *I* like it. It's still a shock to see myself in the mirror, but I do like how dramatic it looks. The picture above is from tonight. I went to see an opera (Aaron Copland's "The Tender Land") with Summer, and wore green eye makeup and red lipstick. Figure I might as well play up those popping eyes!

Fifteen minutes after the opera started, I felt my cell phone buzz with an incoming text message. I waited until intermission to check it, and found the following text from my opinionated trainer: "Love the hair."

Well, I can rest easy tonight. :P

My hairstylist tells me that the color will fade quickly, because it was so light before she dyed it. I will have to touch it up in May. But the maintenance on this is soooo much easier than highlights. And my hair doesn't feel as dry as it normally does after getting it colored, because there was no bleach involved today.

Change is good. :)

The Great Purge and Clean of 2009

Let me be frank: December was a shitty month.

Oh, it ended beautifully, with a relaxing Christmas at Mom and Dad's house. Once I arrived back at their place, it was like the stress started melting off of me. All of the crap I dealt with in December (some of which I can't blog about) just took a back burner, and believe me, it was exactly what I needed.

I found myself wallowing in December. There were good things, like a couple of dates with Date Boy (fizzled out--a good thing, really, because we weren't very compatible), and a ton of awesome Chorale concerts. But good things can be overwhelming. Staying up 'til 5:00 in the morning watching movies with a new person, or standing for an hour singing Handel's Messiah is exhausting, even if it's fun.

When I wallow, things go by the wayside. The dust in my apartment is getting nasty. I need to pull furniture away from the walls and vacuum every nook and cranny. The bathroom isn't too horrid but it needs a good scrub-down. I need to wash my bed linens and my chorale dress (fortunately it's machine washable--I just hang it up to dry).

And I need to purge.

Purging is cathartic to me--a hoarder I am not. I've moved enough in my life to know that most things are replaceable or not important enough to bother replacing. I have a few things--my scrapbooks, certain parts of my Snoopy collection, my clarinet--that are very important, but other stuff is, well, just stuff.

So today, I've been going through my apartment doing the Great Purge of 2009. I have boxed up my well-used, beat-up old pots and pans, as Mom and Dad gave me a lovely set of Farberware for Christmas. I culled 2 garbage bags of Fat Girl clothes out of my closet. By the time spring rolls around, those blouses are going to be tents! I got rid of some cheap plastic cups because I now have a grown-up set of glasses. I've gone through my bookcases and pulled out some books I'll never read again to take to the used book store. My Goodwill pile is growing bigger and bigger. Tomorrow I'll load it all in the car and drop it off.

Even better, I've gone through my kitchen and purged the bad foods and a couple bottles of alcohol left over from all the drinking Date Boy seemed to want to do--he left Irish Whisky AND rum here. The rum--gone. The whisky...well, I'll keep it around, just in case. New Trainer has a good rule of thumb--for every serving of alcohol I drink, I must do one extra mile on the treadmill/stairs/elliptical. My drinking will be limited to special occasions, for sure.

Cleaning, organizing and purging make me feel in control. I can't control what happens to my job in 2010. I'm starting to brace myself for the fact that I could find myself moving again--I just don't know yet. I don't really want to, but I'll do what I have to do. I can't control what the outside world throws at me. But I can control my little corner of the planet, and so I'm ending 2009 with a lot of cleaning, purging, loading, hauling, and organizing. I figure it's best to start 2010 on a positive note, and I'll certainly enjoy lounging around on New Year's Day with black-eyed peas in the slow cooker and a good movie in the DVD player.

Eek! I did it!

When I started my Little Pink Blog in 2004, I picked a template, Thisaway Rose, because it appealed to me.

I've made layout changes, added my baby picture to the title bar, and done other things, but I've never changed the template in these five years. In the last few months I've thought about it, but I haven't been able to click that "Change Template" button.

Tonight, I did. I didn't allow myself to stop and think about it, but simply changed to a new template that has a wider post box than my old template. I might play around with the colors a little more, but this is pretty much how my blog is going to look for a while. It will remain pink because I will always think of my blog as the Little Pink Blog. I can change the template after five years, but not the color scheme!

I think it looks pretty good.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure--measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles
In laughter, in strife

In--Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

--"Seasons of Love" from the musical RENT, by Jonathon Larson

I dreamt last night that I was chatting with a co-teacher, one who was quite a good buddy to me. I always enjoyed our chats because we have the same sense of humor and the same outlook on teaching. The dream itself wasn't very memorable, but I woke up feeling sad. Not just because I won't have these chats anymore with this particular person, but because I won't go out to cheesy Chelmsford on Friday nights with the girls, or sit in Kathy's living room in the evenings watching Viggo Mortensen or Colin Firth movies, discussing Harry Potter or the latest gossip from school. I miss these things, even though I know that I will find (and I am finding) new things to look forward to here.

I lay there in bed this morning, thinking about what I miss and what I don't (the thought of putting another group of kids through music GCSEs is enough to make me want to, as Heather would say, eat nails). And it reminded me of an anniversary:

One year ago tomorrow, 23 August 2004, I boarded a 747 at San Francisco International and started this whole wild and absolutely true adventure.

One year ago this very minute, I was awake in my bed--nervous, excited, terrified, sad, apprehensive, happy--a bundle of emotions and questions. I was running through my last-minute packing list: "Don't forget your glasses, toothbrush, contact solution, watch, shampoo..." I was crying and trying to cuddle an agitated Millie, who did not like the suitcases. I was thrilled to be going back to England, terrified that it might be a horrible experience, but I knew, really knew, that no matter what happened, this was the right path for me.

How do you measure a year?

In the little things, I suppose, just as the song says. The kids who started to listen, the 4 students who were able to submit GCSE coursework. The walks along the Crouch, the train rides to London. The friends made and the adventures I had. The obstacles I knocked down, the people who didn't want me to leave.

So many little moments that stand out, like strutting across a catwalk in ridiculous sunglasses to the Beach Boys' "California Girls," while my co-teacher Stuart played desperate paparazzi. Or belting out "All I Want for Christmas is You," and knocking 'em all off their feet in the process. How about laughing along with a group of wily 13-year-olds when I accidentally taped a piece of paper to my rear end? The time I finally nailed that little weasel Mark, catching him turning on my stereo and cranking up the volume.

Riding along with Louisa, with her repeatedly apologizing for the mess in her car, and asking, "Are you sure this looks allright?" "YES!!! Louisa, you look fantastic!!" Pulling an English construction worker with arm muscles to die for (even if I wasn't all that attracted to the rest of him). Dressed up as Bridget Jones, to boot!

Flying to Ireland with Jo and Sandra, drinking real Irish Guiness and seeing for myself why they call it the Emerald Isle. Taking the Chunnel to Paris and seeing the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, and finally, the D-Day beaches. Having afternoon tea--little sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and a nice, hot pot of tea--in countless tea places on countless day trips.

And the most important moments of all...just getting on the airplane. And landing in London, thinking to myself, "By God, Meg, you really did it."

I know that I will continue to have adventures and good times, to make more memories. I'm ready for new adventures. But today, I'm missing England.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. I lived each and every one of them to the fullest.

Inglaterra, cómo te quiero

Or, England, how I love you.

Hard to believe that a whole year has flown by so quickly. Hard to believe that twenty-four hours from now, I'll be twiddling my thumbs in a taxi in traffic (yes, Mom, I checked with the company and they've got me all booked!), or twiddling my thumbs at Heathrow Airport.

Hard to believe that just one year ago today, I was anxiously awaiting the start of my adventure in England, wondering what would happen, who I'd meet, how I would fare.

You all know that it has been a hell of a year for me. I travelled so far outside my normal boundaries, and I learned so much about myself. Some final thoughts...

The Music Room

I walked in about 20 minutes ago and my first thought was, "Wow, I won't let myself into this room again..." Before I could feel sad about this, I looked around at the place I've built and I had a huge burst of pride. This room was a disaster when I first arrived (I wish I had pictures). Books, papers, rubbish, strewn everywhere. No rhyme or reason to the tables and chairs. Two pianos stuck back-to-back in the middle of what has become my teaching space.

To look at it now, you would never believe it was in such bad shape. I put a lot of muscle and even more heart into this room. I have made it an attractive, safe environment for learning. I have taken pride in its upkeep, ensuring that my students cleaned up after themselves and kept the room looking as it should. I still find assorted spit wads in strange places, but for the most part, these kids started to realize that this was not a room to be abused. For that, I am proud. I won a crucial battle!

The School

I made a difference here, and making a difference at St. Peter's High School, in only one year, is a hell of a feat. To take a subject that had been neglected and abused by the two guys who were here last year and to make more kids respect it was not easy. All I have to do is go back in my blog and read about the battles I've had, and the victories I've had. The kids now seem to respect me. As per the conversation I had with Dad a couple of months ago:

Dad: It sounds like they respect you.

Me (crying): Humph. No they don't.

Dad: I think they do. They may not like you, but they respect you.

Some of the hardest kids have come around and by the end of this year, they knew not to mess with me. They didn't like it, but they definitely did what I told them to do, most of the time.

This lovely little town

No doubt about it: I adore Burnham-on-Crouch. I have since day 1, when I set out to explore and found sailboats bobbing on the river, white-washed buildings gleaming in the sun, and friendly little shops run by people who like to chat.

The Post Office is run out of a pharmacy building. The co-op is a social center. The riverside park is actually used. People smile and say hello. Kids are safe riding their bikes around.

This town is like nothing I had experienced before, and I will miss walking along the High Street, knowing I might run into people I know. I hope that it is never spoiled by Boots and WH Smith. I hope they stay far away from this town and let it exist as it is. It's perfect the way it is.

Essex

I have a magnet that I've kept in my classroom that says, "Essex, County of Hidden Treasures..." This is true in so many ways.

Before I left, a gal from a Kevin Spacey message board I post at told me about the reputation of Essex Girls. They are known for dressing like it's still the 1980s, and for being a bit tarty. It's a terrible stereotype, really, the girls here are no more tarty and badly-dressed than anywhere else in the country or world.

I have grown quite found of Essex and its people. I think I'll always be able to pick out an Essex accent. I'll actually kind of miss putting "Allright?" in place of "Hello, how are you?" and "Cheers" in place of "Thank you, have a nice day!"

England and the English

Where else in the world can you not only drive on the wrong side of the road, but have to navigate roundabouts?

Who else would think to put a dollop of marmalade on a shortbread biscuit, cover it in chocolate, and name is a Jaffa Cake?

Where else do people get so excited about a cup of tea?

What country gave us Robbie Williams, Elton John and the Beatles?

Where does Kevin Spacey choose to spend his time?

Who gave the world Bridget Jones, Cadbury chocolate, Bobbies, Beefeaters, the Tube, red double-decker busses, black taxis, Harry Potter, Paddington Bear?

Where else am I going to hear (and use myself), "Allright?" and "Cheers!" and "Cor Blimey!" and "Bloody hell!"?

What other country resolutely holds on to its traditions and history even as it modernizes and moves along with the 21st century?

There's no place in the world like England.

And so I go...

I'm strangely at peace with leaving now. I had to go through the really rough part, but it's past, I think. I know I'll be sad tomorrow, hugging Kathy and Derek, climbing into the taxi. I feel a twinge of sadness looking around my empty bedroom. All of the cards, etc. are off the walls, packed and ready to go. The only items in the wardrobe are my leather coat, a t-shirt, and a hat. I have a couple of clean pairs of underwear and socks ready for use. They'll be stuffed into my luggage early tomorrow morning and hauled all those miles to Washington.

Washington, where Mom and Dad will be waiting with open arms. Where Millie will cuddle and purr and be happy that her mommy is back. Where my CDs and books wait for me, and my scrapbook beckons. Where I'll shop at Target and eat authentic Mexican food for the first time in months. Where I have a car and free access to a gym.

Washington, where a new adventure (wild and absolutely true!) awaits.

Bring it on.

Cheers,

Meg

Finished

And so my year as a teacher at St. Peter's comes to a close. The kids are off, sent home on their buses.

I have only a few things to wrap up, and new adventures to embark upon.

It's been a hell of a year. For sure.

Three Thousand, Four Hundred, Seventy-Two Calories

I must have walked off at least that much this weekend!

The answer to a bad mood is exercise. Most definitely. I was reminded of that at the Sixth Form Ball, when I danced the night away and completely forgot that I'd had a horribly stressful day leading up to it.

So when I woke up Saturday feeling, well, a bit emotionally unstable, I decided to combat it by taking a walk. So I walked, walked, walked and enjoyed a lovely Burnham day. There was a regatta at the Royal Corinthian Yacht Club this weekend, so I sat on the quay and watched people sail. I wandered through town and chatted for a moment with a friend who lives on the High Street (who, I think, was doing border collie doo-doo dooty in his front yard, but I was too polite to ask).

That evening I went to Burnham's teensy little cinema, the Rio, to see Batman Begins. I strongly recommend it. I have loved Christian Bale since that cheesy Disney movie, Newsies, which came out when I was 13 or 14. Let me tell ya, 13 years has not diminished my joy in his lovely, pouty, lips. And his body has gotten...well, the word "yowza" comes to mind. Let's just say he doesn't look so bad without the rubber suit.

Yesterday I woke up to rain, rain and more rain. Not wanting my spirits to match the weather, I got up and did some more walking. Yes, in the rain. I put on my waterproof jacket, grabbed the World's Wimpiest Umbrella and set out for the Cabin Dairy Tea Rooms.

The Cabin Dairy is a local institution, and how many times have I managed to eat there? Twice. Once with Mom and Dad, and yesterday. I had a bacon and cream cheese bagel with a side of mushrooms and a pot of tea. I figure I got my quota of cholesterol for the week. Lovely!

After my late breakfast, I wandered along the quay again, taking pictures of the Crouch in rainy conditions. There were still sailing races going on, so I watched for a bit under the protection of my umbrella.

At a loss for things to do, I spent an hour reading "Notes from a Small Island" and drinknig Coke at the Railway pub, then saw an afternoon showing of The Pacifier.

All in all, it was a lovely day, even though I was pretty much soaked from the knees down the whole afternoon. Had an emotional chat with Mom and Dad on the phone in the afternoon. They understand that I am really excited to see them, but that leaving is difficult. Mom recalled leaving Omaha (where I was born) and standing on a neighbor's doorstep returing the cleaning implements, bawling her eyes out.

Change is, let's face it, just as scary as it is exciting.

In other news, can I just say that the Lord of the Rings films are amazing? I finally got around to seeing them. Kathy and I started "The Fellowship of the Ring) Thursday night and finished it Friday. I watched "The Two Towers" on Saturday afternoon before heading down the road to see Batman. Last night, Kathy, Derek and I watched the extended edition DVD of "The Return of the King."

The special effects are fantastic. And to answer the most important question....

Aragorn, most definitely. Legolas is cute, but Aragorn is...excuse me, I need some cool air on my face.

Today is Monday, my last full day working at St. Peter's. I'll be coming in a few days after school lets out because I have to finish up some letters I'm writing on behalf of my year 12s, take a few things off the walls (a calendar and some papers that belong to me) and get things tidied up. I am not going to leave this room as I found it. It was a pigsty then. I will leave behind a proper music room.

A year 8 gave me a card this morning. She drew Snoopy and Woodstock on the front and wrote the following inside:

"Dear Miss Cooper,

Music is a big part of my life, and always at school we get rubbish supply teachers or no teacher whatsoever!

This year has been the first year that we have actually had a proper music teacher, as devoted as you are.

At the beginning of the year only one or two people in this year cared about music, but you have changed that and so many more people love music now. Thank you for that. I'm really sad you're leaving, and I dread to think who will take our class next year!

Good luck in Washington! (I think that's where you're going!)

I hope I see you again!

Love from,

Charlee L (8QMu1)!!!"

Very sweet. The thing about teachers is that most of us go into the profession because we want to make an impact. You don't always realize just how much impact you've had. Sometimes it's years and years before you know, and sometimes you never do. So we take these little bits and savor them, knowing that there is purpose and meaning in what we do. At least this teacher does. It is good to know I have made some difference in someone's life.

And with that, it's almost breaktime. I have no more lessons today, and only one tomorrow. I must go have some tea and a chat with Donna, then get back to my computer for some job-hunting.

Cheers,

Meg

Anglo-American Relations Still Strong

When it rains, it pours...literally and figuratively.

Seems like last week I was really struggling to find things to write about and now I have bunches of things to say. Brace yourself, this update is a long one.

But before I get to the headlines, I must say a belated

Happy Fourth of July!!!

I hope everyone had a safe and fun holiday. I, of course, did not get the day off, but believe me, I was with you all in spirit, eating barbecue and watching fireworks. I sat in Kathy's living room last night drinking contraband tea. ; )



Being in England on such a huge holiday was bittersweet. On the one hand, I am living my dream and enjoying doing so, but on the other, I was missing home and family on a very important holiday.

And I was feeling, maybe, just a wee bit proud of my American-ness. We have a lot of pluck, we Americans.

Think about it...Two hundred twenty-nine years ago yesterday, a group of men signed the Declaration of Independence, effectively thumbing their noses at the most powerful monarch and country in the world. They then sent an out-numbered, ill-equipped and inexperienced army out against the most fearsome military force in the world and proceded to engage in a long, ruthless war.



Women fought, as well. They fed, clothed, nursed and supported their husbands, brothers, fathers, neighbors. They went without the comforts and lived with the bare minimum all in pursuit of liberty.



And they won! Imagine the determination, pluck and courage it took to beat the British army. And then to create a constitution and a democracy.

Sure, its not perfect, our democracy, but whatever your political views and leanings, I think we can all be proud of our country on days like Independence Day.

Right, now, in other Anglo-American relations, the headlines:

American Gal Pulls English Bloke

"To pull," is an English term similar to "picking up" at a bar in the States. Pulling is to meet someone, dance, flirt, exchange numbers, etc.

Saturday night, I pulled. I totally pulled.

His name is Brad...other details like age as yet unknown. I do know he is in construction, and therefore has some nice muscles going.

Anyway, I was out celebrating my friend's Hen Night, dressed in my Bridget Jones get-up, and he started dancing with me. We shouted a few things back and forth, danced, he bought me a drink, we exchanged numbers. He seemed really interested in calling me, so we'll see if the does. According to my friends, the British Male waiting period is two to three days. That gives him 'till tomorrow to call me.

American Teacher Survives Flexible Learning Day

Yesterday was our final Flexible Learning Day. You might remember my incoherent ramblings after the last one, when I had to make up Oompah Loompah songs all day. It was hell, I'm telling you, pure hell!!

When I found out a few weeks ago that I would be doing Chaucer Day with year 8 this time around, I told my faculty head in no uncertain terms, "I'm not making up Chaucer songs. I won't do it!"

Instead, I did Illuminated Letters, which turned out to be quite fun. Of course, some kids didn't take it seriously, but most did and we got some great designs out of them. I made my own, even! It's a large M with a piano keyboard, a sun (because I'm a sun-ruled Leo) and a hand hovering over the piano. I think it is quite nice--should be, it took three class periods to complete!

The kids seem to enjoy sitting and drawing, as it is much less intimidating than making up Oompah Loompah songs. I only had to give out two detentions--Freddy and Courtney didn't seem to understand that when I say, "Stop throwing pencils!!" I mean: Stop. Throwing. Pencils.

Other than that, it was a good day.

Rain Momentarily Dampens Fourth of July Spirits

It was pouring rain yesterday as I walked to school (hence the first sentence of this blog entry). It is strange weather for July, even for England. I walked to school in my waterproof jacket, clutching my wimpy little umbrella over me, still managing to get a bit soaked.

As I walked along Southminster Road towards the school, I was very aware that, as ever, I am only about 2 feet away from any vehicle passing me. Narrow sidewalk, narrow roads. On a clear day, when a bus drives by, I literally have to brace myself.

So try to imagine a bus driving by me on this narrow road, and hitting a large puddle.

Spuh-laaaassshhhh!!!

And try to imagine the consternation of the people in the houses nearby hearing a very surprised, high-pitched, "Fuuuuuuuuuuuu----!!!"

Distraught American Reports Death of Digital Camera

You know, when the flash on my beloved 35mm Pentax died last fall, I figured, "Hell, it's six years old and it's been to Europe three times and everywhere else I've been."

But I've had my Vivitar digital for six months. And it's dead. I can't figure it out.

Derek, who is a computer expert, thinks perhaps it had a bad motherboard (chip?) in it from the beginning, because it's always been a bit quirky.

All I know is, I'm going to have to dish out money for a cheap 35mm or a bunch of one-time use cameras for the next month. *sigh* I think the cheap 35mm is my best bet, because I have a lot of events I'm going to (Sixth Form Ball, end-of-year Staff Party, Kathy's annual garden party, Donna's wedding reception) and a lot of people I want to remember when I'm in the States.

The death of a camera is no easy thing for me. Anyone who has spent more than five minutes in my company knows how I love taking pictures of everyone and everything.

New Seattle Adventure Commences in One Month

Yep, one month. On 5 August, I will board a Seattle-bound 747 and thus finish my Wild and Absolutely True Adventures in England--for now.

I've thought about the future of this blog, and wondered if I should keep it going when I'm back in the States. After all, I set it up to record my Wild and Absolutely True Adventures in England. I thought, perhaps, because I enjoy this blogging thing so much, I would start a new one to document what I've come to think of as the New Seattle Adventure. But I am rather fond of my little pink blog and I think I'll keep it. After all, life is just one continuing adventure, whether you're flying off to live in a new country or just going out to buy milk and a newspaper.
So, my friends, The Wild and Absolutely True Adventures of Meg will soldier on. I write this blog for many reasons, and one of the big ones is really, for myself.

All-American Mum Celebrates Birthday

Happy Birthday to Mom! I hope it was a great day, and I'm sorry I couldn't be with you to celebrate it. I'll be home for Christmas, though!

Dad likes to say that it wasn't until they were married that Mom learned that all the fireworks were not for her. I like to say that she came into the world with a bang.

New School Day Starts in England While the American West Coast Sleeps

In other words, I must use the ladies, chain myself to the photocopy machine, organize a few things and then get my day started. The inspectors are here today and tomorrow, so we all have to be on our best behaviour.

Again, hope you all had a lovely Fourth and that going back to work isn't too excrutiating.

Cheers,

Meg