not that I'm counting ...

There are five-oh days left until I return home. Tomorrow, there will be seven weeks left. I can't believe how quickly the last few weeks have gone.

Next week, other than six weeks left to go, will also be my week "off" teaching due to Hart District's very late spring break. I'm not going to complain. I have so much to do in the next few weeks, that I'm not sure how it will all get accomplished if I don't have at least a few days' break.

black and white thinking.

As controversial as a simile

is religious terminology

in a textbook touting humanities.

ten and three.

More barista humor from the evening before ...

"Hello, sir. Welcome to Starbucks. How is your afternoon going?"

"Hi. Fine."

(Insert chirping crickets in background here.)

"Can we get a drink started or grab a pastry off the shelf for you?"

"Yes."

"Great! What would you like?"

"I want a ten and a three."

"Sure -- which drinks were those?"

"They're not."

"Okay. I can give you a few minutes to decide?"

"No; why would I need a few minutes? I know what I want."

"I'm sorry sir. I just wasn't sure what you wanted, specifically."

"I thought I told you what I wanted. Does no one listen?"

"My apologies. Could you please tell me again; I promise I am listening."

"Gift cards. Ten and three."

"Three cards with ten dollars each ...? Ten with three dollars ...? Just so you know, sir, we can only load by increments of five."

" 'In credence'? Five? No. I said I wanted a ten-dollar card and a three-dollar card."

Oh dear ...

"Okay, I understand. I can load one of the cards for ten dollars. Unfortunately, our store policy only allows us to start loading at five dollars."

"Well whatever. I just want ten and three."

There are times when my job is trying.

Praising God for His grace and mercy.
I would never have either on my own.

thursday night -- intermission to homework.

Thirteen-year-old Rebecca Black's viral hit single "Friday" should have the following subtitle:

"A celebration of mediocrity."

As this is the night before Friday, I thought I would take a moment to pause and reflect on some recent world news.

In other parts of the world in the last week or so, thirteen-year-old kids experienced the terror of tsunami following the devastating earthquake in Japan ... thirteen-year-old kids were exposed to and sought shelter from the outbreak of war in Libya ... undoubtedly, thirteen-year-old kids in Israel heralded the news of the bus bombing on March 25 and its precipitant effect with grave sorrow (one 60-year-old woman was killed and 39 were injured in the attack that left the bomber unharmed) ... and furthermore, millions of thirteen-year-old kids do without things you and I take for granted on a daily basis: radios, televisions, internet connection to Facebook, cameras, cell phones and other communication devices, transportation, and basic necessities. A roof overhead. A bed to sleep in. Clean clothes. Food and pure water. A loving family. Thirteen-year-old kids can be found in every part of the world who are persecuted for bearing the name of Jesus.

Do you know how good we have it here in America? I doubt it.

I look at these lyrics and I think, "over-privileged." At thirteen, how many of your friends had brand-new convertible cars? How many of them could drive these minted rides? (Yeah, I used that phrase.) On the weekends, how much time did you have to devote to "partyin' partyin' yeah"? At thirteen, although I loved to spend time with my friends, most of our time spent together involved girl time. You know, the nail-painting, hair-up-doing, make-over, story-telling, build-a-fort, take-a-walk-along-the-beach, make-cookies, fun girl time?

I hear the song and wonder how people think, "this is great music." For a girl who claims a musical background, she should know enough to avoid such poorly-constructed, weak lyrics. On one hand, the song lacks depth. Some shallow-lyric songs still sell, however. What kills the song: the singer lacks conviction, clarity of tone, and moreover, discretion.

Though I realize the song was written before these events took place ... in the wake of earthquake and tsunami, war, famine, deaths, and so on, this song has nothing to offer.

And now, every time I hear someone say "Friday," I hear the squashed strangled, mutilated version instead...

"Et's Fryyeedaeehh, Fryydehh, Gotta git dowwnn on Fryyeeedaaeeh."

Seriously?

Since I cannot stomach disgracing my blog with that video, I'll leave it to you to find the song on YouTube. At this point, you should consider yourself warned. Mediocre is almost too good a word for this one. It's a waste of precious time!!

creativity?

While I'm in the process of thinking through today's events, I thought I would write about them. How else will they leave my mind so that I might sleep?

Monday, 21 March 2011, was a day to remember.

- Left the apartment late.
- Bus driver was late.
- Teacher was late.
- Left LA late.
- Late to class in the valley.
- Exhausted.
- Late to sleep tonight.

Last part truly could not be helped!

All the above aside, when the docent began speaking ... my first thought was to begin laughing. Focusing on Picasso to start off our tour, my group's docent ended with the most recently added pieces of modern art, in the shape of a picture collage featuring guns and a blue rose, a balloon dog made of steel, and a fluorescent light / vacuum display. (Yeah, not kidding.)

ART. Should not art be aesthetically-pleasing? Perhaps this no longer is the case. According to a modern-day description, art "is a product or process of deliberately arranging items (sometimes with symbolic significance) in a way that influences and affects one or more of the senses, emotions, or intellect."

In this case, although I would typically never quote from Wikipedia, I did indeed quote from the accursed site. There is a reason: the description is detailed enough for me to use in this (very) short critique of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and their focus on modern art during today's field trip.

Photo cred: Dominique K.

Let's take "balloon dog" for a little ride ...

- Is it deliberately arranged? Of course it is; someone obviously put care and energy into this creation.
- Is it symbolically significant? To an extent: it symbolizes what clowns make at fairs (eek, stay far away).
- Does it influence or affect ... 1) the senses? Somewhat; the trick of the steel makes the viewer believe the piece is actually made of rubber; 2) the emotions? I guess if you're afraid of clowns, this would be a good one to stay away from; 3) the intellect? Oh definitely: I think I just lost quite a few braincells over-analyzing a piece of steel.

Don't get me started on the multi-dimensional Picasso paintings of horribly distorted women, the movement in the "sculpture" of sautered together smashed car parts, or the critique-on-consumerism driven still life of vacuums and fluorescent lights, on display in neat rows inside glass boxes.

Oops.

I'm sorry -- you thought that was being creative? I call that being "lazy."

acting like children.

I went to church this morning with the expectation that my perspective would be kicked back into gear. I'll be the first to admit that everything goes all over the map, emotionally and mentally, when my perspective is not aimed where it should be: on my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

For those of you who do not believe in Christ and don't understand what the big deal is -- Yes! I've definitely done things on my own before -- lived as I pleased. But there was this immense hole in my life that I couldn't fill. Like something was drastically wrong but I couldn't fix it. No matter what I had done to try to fill that hole in, it kept falling in. Pretty soon, I couldn't control it. It controlled me, who I was. My good name and character meant nothing. Anything I did, no matter how "good"? Couldn't satisfy me.

Another problem surfaces when it becomes all about ME living in MY own strength. I start looking for, what can I get out of the situation?? What benefits me becomes my first priority, my only priority. I forget about you completely.

Pretty ugly, right?

The message today centered around Mark 10:13-16. A new (to me) perspective on Mark 10:13-16. It struck home, made me evaluate a few things about myself, my perception of the world, and my idea of discipleship. I thought I would share, since I care about you -- even the "you"s out there who I don't know as well as others -- because HE cared first.

I will leave you with those thoughts for now and wrap things up later on this week...

Love in Christ, Dominique

what i'm learning, part 4.

I am very selfish with my down time. I want it all to myself. No lesson planning or thinking required. Just relax and unwind time with me and a pillow. How often does this happen? Every night for five hours. Yes, I did say five. No, I wouldn't prescribe it.

I do not like to spend time surrounded by people all day. It gets tiring and I get cranky. I feel like I must play hostess and be nice to one and all -- which is not something that I have to do; I just have this innate desire to do so because I desire the same treatment from others.

I am not a fan of immaturity or rudeness, but I dish up the latter often. Especially when dealing with the former. Oops.

I enjoy grading if it does not have an immediate deadline. Unfortunately, the nature of grading is that, unless there is a deadline, it doesn't get done and it piles up on itself, to the extent that tackling one section hardly makes a dent.

I am uncomfortable and easily annoyed when people step on my toes. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.)

I feel like I have terrible time-management skills. Which I don't -- I am just extremely exhausted and it shows when I come home and suddenly can only do two things: fall asleep sitting against the wall while reading through tomorrow's lesson plan AND eat on-the-go items. What I need to be doing: preparing lesson plans and cooking well-rounded meals.

with any hope...

I will get through this semester.

Let me tell you, though, I am running on fumes. I have been at it non-stop for a while. Starbucks is the last part of my day -- and it is a mind-numbing job, cleaning everything each night, slowly losing my sanity to the sanitizing solution in the back sink.

Short on time and energy, I will end this here. My new master teacher is someone I am not convinced has it completely together, with regards to me. Unsure of what I am capable, he has not allowed me stretch my wings much and I feel a bit stifled. This said, I will get me out. Eventually.

Until then...

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly trust in Jesus' name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand.

NOTICE!

I have been hacked.

Apologies if anything went askew in the last 6 hours!

Sincerely,
- Dominique

hello, (almost) 60 days!

Two months until my birthday.

Less than that until I'm packed.

Around the same for TPA four.

I'm ready. I'm "setty." Let's go!

a little update.

Teacher Performance Assessment #3 is in full swing.

Three-quarters of the way into it, I must take a break.

There is much to do in the next few weeks that will most assuredly test my patience levels and time-management skills.

This is no small thing. My future and career truly depend on my completion of this 25-page paper. If I do not pass with flying colors, I cannot proceed. This has not only put a fire under my tail, it has also made me quite incoherent and given my nerves a rawness that rivals my time spent getting off "the drip" (see photo below).


Thankful that the Lord gives me strength to move forward and do all things to my best ability. He is the only one who can get me through this tumultuous ride!

Until sometime after Thursday ... this is me, signing off ...

the hardest thing.

Rubbed the wrong way.

I do not understand why you always have to be right. What does it matter to me if you know everything? Should it matter? No; then, why does it rub me this way?

If I am honest I would say, "I cannot even stand being in your company, much less talk to you."

That is because it's not talking when I am forced to listen. Listen, to tall tales. Listen, to things that do not matter. Listen, to someone trying very hard to tell me how much more amazing they are than me. Listen, to someone belittle my accomplishments and dreams.

Grow up.

Not you -- ME.

It should not matter what I think. What you do to me or "make me feel" is not what I need to be worried about. Feelings are fleeting. Let it slide off my back. Words are words alone when they have no backing. Purge. Release.

Beyond that, when impatient and frustrated beyond my means as is the case today, I must slam on the breaks of my discomfiture ... slam on the breaks of my annoyance ... and love you. Not because I must -- but because I want to. We always have choices.

I pray the Lord will teach me to love as he loves me. I am nothing to him; and yet he sacrificed his Son for me. Shouldn't that be enough for me to love someone else fully and unconditionally?

Yes.

And it's the hardest thing.

now that it is...

February is gone.

March is now in its second week.

What happened to me?

Answer: I have been living under the rock of eternal grading. Thank you, blossoming teaching career.

I will attempt to show my life in the last couple of weeks through picture format, as follows...

When at work, my exhaustion-induced delirium
causes me to write messages in chocolate sauce:

My job is not hard; it just requires my dedication
to turning this ugly monstrosity of an oven ... :

...into this beautiful, sparkling, shiny thing.
No biggie. It just takes forever, because there
are few who make sure they use waxed paper:
(Okay, I promise! I won't complain.)

I also spend a good amount of time clearing
Bryan out of behind the counter at night.
(This has a funny story attached. Long
and short of it: He stayed there until
a line of customers finally left. Leg cramps
suck.)

Miss this guy a TON:

And I miss creating drawings like this:
(My kids miss me too, so says my first
assignment master teacher. I believe
her... They were great kids, with few
exceptions. They knew how to make
classes interesting; I learned a lot from just
listening to them.)

I still do a bunch of this... Man, I am NOT
going to miss the hat. Thankful for WA State.
California State's ideas about what a health
code entails leaves much to be desired, let
me tell ya. It's rather gross ... :

I don't miss doing this too much:
(I learned a bit about grading with the
first round -- stuff I won't repeat!)

In the meanwhile... Skype is a good friend.
There has been much laughter and good,
fun conversation over the internet... Looking
forward to more in the future, but I'm ready
to be home too. That is, after all,
the end result of this adventure!

(He couldn't keep a straight face if his
life depended on it -- this was hilarious!!!)

I miss these guys a LOT. It's not quite as fun
doing homework without them... In fact, I am
more distracted just thinking about home...

So with that, I bid you adieu!