i made it big, yo

I interviewed for the full time teaching position the Monday before the school year was over. There were two positions open, one full time and one part time, and there were only two applicants. I knew for sure I would get a spot, I just didn't know which one they would offer me. I mean, I had a pretty good idea that I would get the full time position. That's the one I really wanted. But there was just enough uncertainty that made me nervous.

The only "interviews" I've ever been to were ones where I had already got the job and just needed to walk through the formalities. My first real 'adult' interview was for the library position, and I was so nervous I just tugged on my shirt sleeves the whole time and tried to steady my voice before I answered each question.

So I walked into this teaching interview, portfolio in hand, nervous and excited.

I sat before a panel of three people. My principal, one of the assistant principals, and a head administrator from the district office. My nerves were in a ball on top of my stomach and I felt like all my brain parts had been discombobulated and rearranged in my skull.

They asked their questions, starting with the most hated question in the history of the universe "So, Natalie, tell me a little bit about yourself..."

And then the classroom questions started pouring in. How would students describe you? How would you like your co-workers to describe you? What is your basic education philosophy? What things would you change in the art room, what would you keep the same? My brain was in hyperdrive trying to remember the right words and put sentences in the correct order while still remaining outwardly calm and taking the time to organize my thoughts before I opened my mouth.

I left the 20 minute interview unsure of which way they would go. On one hand, I had been working at the school for a year. I knew the art program, the staff, the students, how the school ran. But on the other hand I lacked serious experience in the teaching department. I taught at the university as a TA for Art 100 and I did my student teaching, but other than that I come up short. How do you get experience though, if no one will give you a chance? So I crossed my fingers and said my prayers and tried not to worry too much.

My principal told me they would have their decision by early the next week. I knew I would be gone, so I asked him to email me. Those first couple of days in Honduras, every time I would connect to the wifi I would obsessively check my email like a fourteen year old girl waiting to see if her crush actually responded.

Finally I got an email from my principal asking me to call him, since he had tried calling me and my number wasn't working. My heart sank a little as I wondered whether or not being out of the country had slimmed my chances for the full time position, but I emailed back telling him where I was and that I could call him once I returned home. He said that wasn't a problem and I finished out my week in Honduras curious about what the results were.

Monday afternoon I was texting TheBoy about my day, telling him that I still needed to call my principal about my job. A little while later he responds "did you call yet??" My heart started beating wildly in my chest, oh no I haven't! I don't want to! It's too scary! Inwardly I recoiled, both wanting desperately to find out and also to live in ignorant bliss at the same time.

So I picked up the phone. And I dialed the number. And I got his voicemail without the phone having rung first. I hung up, unsure of whether or not to call back. Sometimes when I call my mother and I get her voicemail right away something wonky happened with the connection and so I decided to redial the number and try again. Same thing, voicemail with no rings. This time I left a message for him to call me whenever since I was back in the country now.

And then I put my phone on Pandora and played it through the speakers while I hopped in the shower.

By the time I had soaped up and slathered on my face wash, my Chris Tomlin jam sesh was cut short. I peaked my head out of the shower and saw my principal's number calling my phone. I shut off the water, grabbed my towel and only dried off the part of my face that would touch my phone as I pressed the button to connect.

"Hello, this is Natalie," I said. The voice on the other line greeted me excitedly, he asked me about my trip, what did I do, how long was I gone, who did I go with, etc. And then he says what I have been dying to hear.

"We've decided to offer you the full time position..."

Before he can say anything else a little "yaaaay" escaped my lips and all of a sudden I wanted to laugh and cry and scream and hug someone all at the same time while standing in the middle of my steamy bathroom dripping with water and soap and wrapped in a towel.

And that is how I became the new full time art teacher at the ripe old age of twenty two.

oh murgatroyd

Do you know what is amazing? Driving in the car to work with the sun shining and country music blaring out of the radio. It makes me feel like it's finally summertime, and guys, that is my favorite time of the year. The smell of fresh cut grass, sun warmed hay, shorts, tanks & flip flops, swimming, camping, biking, being outside....I could go on and on and on...and on. But in all seriousness, summer is where it's at.

There are just some moments in life, like this morning, where the perfect song is coming through my speakers, the weather is glorious, and I just could not be in a better mood. I have to tell you that I am feeling so much better. About life. About the future. About myself. Not only do I feel a lot less anxious, but I just feel...happier. And happier is usually paired with brainless acts such as belting out all the words as loud as I can and car dancing like the champ that I am. Get your shimmy on, please! It's a good thing my windows are so tinted...talk about embarrassing.

Yesterday I came home from work in a really weird mood. A good mood, but a weird one. This mood, you guys! This mood possessed me to clean! Clean all of the things! I picked up my clothes that have been dead on my floor since my Houston trip and I finally (finally!) put them all away (mostly). (I'm running out of drawers and closet space...) (First world problems.) And then after that I cleaned the bathroom. The counter, the sink, the toilet, the floor. I picked up the living room as much as I could and vacuumed. I opened windows to let in fresh air! My sister did the dishes and I cleaned the counters in the kitchen. We put groceries away. Good gravy you guys, I couldn't be stopped! And then we watched the season finale of Duck Dynasty because you guys! Duck Dynasty! !!!!

And heavens to Murgatroyd, I'm paying for it today. All that scrubbing! My shoulders are tired. And protesting loudly...especially when it comes to getting dressed or anything that involves lifting my arms above my head. Silly shoulder muscles.

(Also, I have no idea why I said heavens to Murgatroyd except that I was thinking about that phrase this morning but I couldn't place where I knew it from so I looked it up. Snagglepuss, you crazy cat you.)

I just can't explain how nice it is to be myself. There is something to be said for period of loneliness though, where you are just a bit lost and have no idea what to do about any parts of anything. I have been learning that this is something a lot of people experience, and it's slightly necessary maybe. In order to appreciate what you have? Perhaps? Whatever the reason that caused me to shove everyone out of my life while I dealt with things and stuff and feelings about things and stuff, it's nice to have the confidence to now face those obstacles head on. I may not know exactly where I am going, but I definitely am not as scared or anxious about it as I was a couple short weeks ago. I know that no matter what happens God has my back and I'll be okay with whatever circumstances the future brings. Just watch me.

Not everything in my life is perfect, and actually there is a lot of stuff left to hurdle over. It may involve playing chicken on the railroad tracks, but I'll come out on top. And better for it, too. Life is one crazy adventure after another, and heavens to Murgatroyd (!!) I'm gonna work it like it's my job.

Also? Purple hair. Check it out. I'm cool.

she is the sweetest. like, seriously.

also? she drives now! ah!!

lots of talk about beauty lately. i love dove though. 

and i also like this typeface.

dad broke out the remote controlled camaro. the pups were terrified.

it was hilarious.

what a week. i'm super glad tomorrow is friday!

a long post with lots of pictures. you've been warned.

So basically Houston rocks my socks off. Spending time with two people I love dearly and their three beautiful children was just exactly what I needed. And even though I didn't really want to leave Texas, I feel more rejuvenated to live life and make decisions. It was good for my soul.

Anyway, after we hit up Galveston we moved on to the zoo and spent the day taking a bazillion pictures of different animals. Lions, tigers, leopards, chimps, lemurs, jellyfish, sea turtles, giraffes, you know the drill. Sometimes I think I could go to the zoo every day.

After our crazy zoo adventures that involved terrorizing various wild animals and sketching giraffes while eating pepperoni pizza, we felt like we'd been run over by trucks. It was time for a nap. And also some Shipley's donuts.

On Thursday Joel and I hit up the Museum of Fine Arts. Holy buckets, you guys! I could have stayed there for days. Days I tell you! The Picasso Black and White exhibit was there and if it hadn't been 17 extra dollars I don't think we would have looked at anything else in the whole building.

But as it was, we walked around looking at all of this historical painting! Good gravy there were rooms upon rooms of all this amazing artwork. I almost couldn't handle it and I'm pretty sure I took pictures of almost everything just like an art crazed teenage girl. I mean, I got to look at pieces of art created by masters. Masters! People who lived in the 1700s and the 1800s and can you just imagine for a second what that is like? To stand in front of a painting that van Gogh himself created. Van Gogh is my BMW of the art world. It seriously doesn't really matter what it was that he painted and I will still love it just because it's van Gogh. For real. There wasn't much of his work though, so I took pictures of everything else. And then I collaged them on Instagram like a wannabe hipster. I'm the coolest.

there is a tunnel that takes you from one building of the museum to another and it is crazy awesome. it changes from red to violet lighting and it was probably one of my most favorite parts of my visit!

this is a detail shot of that awesome skull artwork. the whole thing was filled with all sorts of crazy awesome stuff. I think we stood in front of it for at least ten minutes finding different gems. It was fantastic!

i wanted to buy this mug so bad!!

Friday night was my last night in good old Texas, so we spent it watching Wreck-it Ralph, eating ice cream and soaking in the hot tub. Saturday morning came way too early and saying good bye to the Humans and Joel and Mandy was not something I really wanted to do. The week flew by too fast!

i had to take a picture of the stop lights. they are sideways! which is super weird!

7:00 in the morning came waaayyyy too early. But the sunrise was gorgeous.

Monday got here way too quickly bringing with it the start of the work week. But here we are, back to the daily grind. Basketball and library books, high school students and homework. Gearing up for the start of the 4th quarter and ultimately the end of the year. I can't believe how quickly time is flying.



So Monday, hit me with your best shot. Let's do this.

a return trip

For those of you who have been around for a while, you may remember that I got to go to Honduras in July of 2011 and what an incredible adventure that was. Unfortunately, I kind of dropped the ball on blogging about it, so that's only about half of what I experienced. But it's better than nothing, right? Right!

The reason I bring this up is because it looks like I will be going back to Honduras again in June of this year. I have to start fund raising and saving up the dough. I'm sending this letter out to all the people I know, but I thought also there was no harm in posting it here. Even if all you are able to do is pray, that's all I can ask for.

To My Dear Friends and Family:

A couple years ago I was blessed with the opportunity to travel to Honduras with a mission team from my church. It was a whirlwind of experiences,especially because I didn't know I was going on the trip until three days before we left. A flurry of packing, laundry and three shots in the arm later,I was part of a medical brigade/building trip combo to provide the people of Tegucigalpa with some free health care, and also add to the amount of work being done in order to complete their Learning Center for rural pastors.

During my trip I bonded with a plethora of little Honduran children who covered me in stickers and showered me with hugs. I helped out in the pharmacy, mixed concrete by hand, played a lot of soccer, ate delicious food, and watched God work in ways I could have never imagined.

In June I have the chance to return to Tegucigalpa on a building trip led by my amazing parents and accompanied by both my brothers. We are going to be building a house for the people who work in the trash dump collecting recyclables as away of life. This is to help provide better housing so these families will have the chance to raise their children in better living conditions than a make-shift shanty on the side of the road. This is a great opportunity to build relationships with other people, experience a completely different culture, and further the kingdom of God.

For it to be possible to make this trip I will need to raise some money. In total I will need $1800 dollars. I have already started saving,but every little bit helps. If you feel inclined to help me out with the cost by pledging some money or sending up prayers, I would be incredibly grateful.

This trip is important to me in so many ways that I can’t even begin to describe. Even if you can’t afford to send anything except massive amounts of prayers, you can follow the trip on Instagram (@natakeit90) and/or I will make sure to send out letters (with lots of pictures!) upon our return to the States.

Thanks for everything. You rock!

Natalie

I went back to re-read my limited blogging account from my last trip south, and some of the things I remember about being in Honduras have stuck with me, while others have faded in time. But what is really, truly amazing is that feeling of fellowship and working at an exhausting pace was all 100 percent worth it. I wouldn't trade that trip for the world on a silver platter and I know that this second trip is going to be just as amazing too.

And to help make up for not blogging about the last half of my trip, here are some pictures:

the first weekend of the year

I'm not at all entirely sure what I should be writing about right now. My brain is full of a million different ideas, but some of them are bad, some of them would be poorly timed, and some of them are only half baked. So here I sit, in front of a large blank screen, with nothing but half planned posts and chocolate.

I suppose I could start off by saying that 2pm on Friday the 4th of January couldn't get here fast enough. It was bad enough that TheBoy was gone in the first place, and then there was stuff and things that made it all the more difficult to just sit and wait for him to come home. Waiting in anticipation for him to come back, I had that wonderful type of excitement and nervousness for an event that doesn't allow you to sleep for very long and minutes pass like hours.

But then it was 12:30 in the afternoon and I loaded my things in my little white car, hugged my momma goodbye and headed for the airport to pick up that sweet boy. I parked in a metered space and sat on a bench inside the airport, impatiently waiting for him to walk through the gate. Slowly people were showing up and meeting their families and I could tell they were on the flight from Seattle because of how they were dressed. You know what I'm talking about. Plaid shirts, slouchy hats, hipster glasses.

And there was TheBoy, black jacket, jeans, island-tanned skin, freckly face and the best smile. He put his arm around me and kissed me as we walked down to baggage claim to get the rest of his things. Can I just tell you that, boy, I don't think I've ever been that glad to see somebody.

We drove back to Moscow from the airport. He talked about his trip and about his family, a little of this and a little of that.

I'm having trouble gauging how much detail to get into, because to me the little things are the big things, but then I don't want to bore everyone to tears with an hour long blog post that no one wants to read in minute detail. But really, the things that make me like this boy so much are things that no one catches. The small quirks that are shared just between us.

Like the way he holds my hand in the car, or touches my head, or plays with my hair. He kisses my forehead and I just don't want to move when he's got me in both his arms and my head is resting just perfectly on his chest. I don't know if I should share those moments, or keep them to myself. But when he told me to write about all that I did this weekend, those are the things that are replaying over and over in my mind.

Maybe other people would write about the walks they went on, the games they played, the movies they watched - because we do all those things too. I was introduced to Hook this weekend - with Robin Williams and Julia Roberts - and I really liked it. T Lily was around this weekend too and brought with her all the whirlwind of emotions that come with reconnecting with your best friend after spending six months apart. She is the coolest, I tell you what. But in the end, I just write about the things that matter to me.

So this weekend was a lot of things, and if I had to pick my favorite part I don't think that I could do it. Maybe I would say there was a moment at a restaurant where he said something that I don't know if he knew he said it, but it's been stuck in my brain ever since. Or maybe I would tell you about how he plays his new guitar and something about the sound makes me feel lonely but connected at the very same time and I never want him to stop playing ever. Or maybe my favorite part is just being near to him.

Everything about this relationship surprises me. Nothing turns out the way that I think it will, which so far is a really good thing.

So there you go, that was my weekend.

well, here we are 2013

Well guys, we defied all expectations and made it into 2013 without all the fireballs and thousand degree temperatures those pesky Mayans promised us. And since we narrowly escaped death, ringing in the new year wasn't near as dramatic as I had hoped it would be. TheSeester, TheMechanic, Mom and I stayed up until midnight and clinked glasses of sparkling apple cider once the ball dropped and it was bed time.

We are an exciting bunch, I tell you what.

And now, pictures. Pictures ad nauseam.

My little Lottie girl. 

Night skiing on the last day of 2012!! 

These dogs. They are the awesomest.

 TheMechanic had himself a birthday while we were in Seattle, so we had a little family celebration once we were back home. TheSeester baked his cake and made the frosting and then I decorated it. That lucky kid.

And this boy comes home tomorrow. It has been three weeks. That is just plain too long. I miss him.

It All Comes Down To This

There are big moments in life. In all my 22 years I have had some pretty big moments, but not many that compare to the nerve racking excitement that is graduating from college. It's no secret that I have been in school since I was five years old. Stories exist of me riding my bike down the drive way telling my mother that I'm going to school, regardless of the fact that I was only three.

Then there was that fiasco when I started high school where I was nervous all the time and I quit eating breakfast. And just like everything else in life, high school ended too. High school graduation is nerve racking and exciting as well, but in a totally completely different way. With my high school career I knew what was happening after I walked across the stage in that viking blue cap and gown with honor cords. I knew I would be walking into the dormitories on the University of Idaho campus in Moscow come August and I knew that would start a whole new life adventure.

Graduating college, on the other hand, is a whole new world of feelings. Not only is it going to be weird not worrying about term papers and semester projects and gallery reviews, but most of my friends still live in that place and here I am on the other side of it all.

Saturday at 11:30 TheBoy dropped me off in front of the Kibbie Dome. It was an hour before the ceremony was supposed to start and that whole morning I had been fine. I took a shower and washed my hair. Soaped up, rinsed off. Shaved. It was just like every other morning of my worldly existence and then when his little mazda pickup rolled to a stop in the crowded parking lot and it was time for me to shoulder my bag and head inside, something inside me clenched up. Suddenly I was nervous and nauseous and I couldn't believe he was leaving me there by myself.

"I'll see you soon," he said with a cheerful smile. He was more excited than I was.

"Not soon enough," I replied, and stepped out of the truck. It was cold and windy, but the sun was shining. I headed for the overly populated insides of the ASUI Kibbie Dome and held my breath. Today was the day I went from being a lowly college undergrad to a fully graduated Vandal allumni and but how weird was that going to be?

I had no idea where I was going once I got inside so I just followed other cap and gown clad bodies and wound up next to the other students with bright blue tassels. Apparently I needed a name card, for the photographer's sake, so I was sent to the front of the line to fill out my information. They didn't have a card with my name on it, which should have been a sign that I was in the wrong place, but you know, nerves.

So they gave me a blank one and I filled out the information and went to stand in line with the other college of education grads. I talked with some elementary school teacher hopefuls who were all just as nervous as I was about the whole thing. I was a wall flower mostly, just listening to the nervous nellies of the day chatter on in hopes that would help to calm them down.

Deans from other colleges would walk through our lines and congratulate us, asking what was next in life. We pretty much all had the same answer: Find a job. And what did they expect us to say, really? My adviser from the College of Art and Architecture made her way down our line, shaking hands and sharing smiles when she finally got down to me.

"You should go over and say hi to the other students in the Art and Architecture line!" She was telling me names of friends who were over there and I wondered why I wasn't in that line, too. I mean, I was supposed to be graduating from that college anyway, right? But they gave me a blue tassel! I followed her over to the line and we figured out the guys at grad fest had made a tragic mistake. They signed me up for the College of Art and Arch but had given me the same color tassel as the education college because I was graduating to become a teacher. It had been monumentally confusing at the time, but I trusted them.

Actually, I'm kind of glad they gave me the wrong tassel because the Art and Arch ones were brown. Blue fits me much better. I'm a blue kind of girl. I furiously texted mom and TheBoy to figure out where everyone was and uploaded a picture to Facebook. Today was the day. It all boiled down to this.

Music started playing over the loud speakers and then it was time for what I can only relate to as "march in." I'm sure there is a fancy official name for it, but it reminded me of gymnastics meets when all the teams would make their way to the floor at the beginning. Regally dressed faculty officials directed us to our seats as row after row of black caps and gowns filled the floor of the Kibbie Dome. It was decorated with giant black curtains, purposefully placed bouquets of white flowers, and two wooden podiums at the front, one of which was over 100 years old.

 As I sat in that hard backed plastic chair sandwiched in between people, some of whom I'd never seen before in my life and some of whom I had cried and sweated and bled through agonizing art history and studio classes with, I thought about how in the world I ended up here.

I didn't set out to become a teacher, let alone an artist. I didn't know the road I would take once I started this journey, I just put one foot in front of the other and I kept going, no matter what happened. There were a few times that I wanted to drop out, but I didn't. There were a few times where I considered switching schools, but I stayed. I have made some of my best friends at this school. I have learned some important lessons while in attendance at this university. It helped shape me and mold me into the very person I am today, and had I gone somewhere else I would be someone else.

At 17 I was on this same floor of this same building gobbling up all sorts of information about what I was going to do with the next for years of my life. I was nervous, giddy, and excited. I spent the night with two college freshmen and another high school senior. We ate at Bob's. We walked around the buildings. Everything was fresh and new to me. To think that this same floor of this same building was where it was all going to end too was just insane. Mostly because I didn't know where all the time had gone. Had I just blinked? Wasn't I living in a room with my high school best friend just yesterday?

It was hard to hold back the tears. I worked hard for this. I fought for this. I filled out mountains of paper work and learned to draw, paint, print make, watercolor, barista, make friends, write papers, take tests, love boys, love Jesus, and become my own person all in a four and half year span. To say that I wasn't emotional would have been an understatement and after the president of the university handed me that black diploma case with the gold university stamp on the front of it, I just felt like melting. With blurry vision I shook hands and smiled at all the people congratulating me.

I was in a surreal state and I kept thinking that any moment it was just going to be a dream and I would wake up in my tiny Moscow apartment to find out I'd slept through class again. It couldn't be all over, could it? Could it?

There is a lot that I am going to miss about being in college, but there is a lot that I'm thankful to be finished with. Maybe someday I will go back for my master's degree and become a college professor, but for now I'm content to just see where this adventure takes me.

I celebrated all day Saturday with my family and TheBoy. We ate a tremendous amount of sushi and then bowled two games, which is another story for another day, and then we finished off at the movie theater to watch Playing For Keeps (sorry Boy that I made you sit through a chick flick!!). It was a fantastic day and I spent it with fantastic people that I love to be around.

Everyone keeps asking me how it feels, and I honestly don't feel that much different. I still have a week left of student teaching and then I have the library position until school is out in June. Ask me when I don't have to register for spring classes. Ask me in the summer when I don't have to go back in the fall. I'm sure it will be weird, but it will be my weird. It's just a new page in this book of life, a new beginning that is right in the middle of my story.

1st day of college 2008

graduation 2012

because you needed to know

Student teaching is amazing. I can co-teach with a very capable woman, who I am coming to appreciate more and more each day I spend with her, and I can manage the classroom and be an authority figure as well. I have to admit that it was definitely weird at first not being called Natalie but instead Miss Mylastname.

My students are fantastic. I don't have any real trouble causers, but I do have some students that require way more attention than other students. Which will definitely always be the case as long as I'm involved in any sort of classroom. And honestly? Even though it's incredibly satisfying to watch any of my students 'get it,' it's way more fulfilling when you have worked long hours with a student and you see that click. That beautiful little 'aha' moment when the gears turn in their brains and you watch them put pencil to paper or hand to clay in a way that they haven't before.

This semester is only a couple weeks long, but already it is proving to be one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had. I'm making connections with my students and getting more involved in their projects, as well as their lives. I definitely see students from a different perspective since I'm not one anymore. Well, a high school student anyway.

And while things in the academic world are going well, things in the home life aren't too shabby either. We're painting TheKeeper's old room so I can move into that and give my parents their bedroom back. We decided to go with teal, and even though that was an endeavor all it's own, it looks like that's finally getting wrapped up. After a trip to Moscow this weekend to see TheBestFriend and TheBoy I'll get to move my furniture into the freshly painted one and finally (finally!) be able to settle in to my house.

And since I mention TheBoy, can I just show you how awesome he is?

I came home from school and found these beautiful flowers on my kitchen table. I almost died. That kid makes my heart melt. I had to call TigerLily and show her because those flowers! They are the best. And I knew she was probably the only other person who would understand just how much I loved those pink oriental lilies. I mean, I practically melted into a puddle on the floor. Best surprise ever.

and so it begins

I never imagined I would be here. Well, I mean, I did, but also I didn't. This is my final semester of college and in the grand month of December I will wear a black cap and gown with a gold tassel and receive my bachelor's of science degree in art education.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, you know. There is still a lot of work to do before then.

I have been working in one of the high schools in a town around twenty minutes away from my house. My mentor teacher is pretty much amazing and the more time I spend with her in the school preparing for the upcoming semester the more excited I get. Which is kind of a big deal since I was almost too nervous about it to function at the end of last semester.

The most amazing part is that there is a part time art position opening up at the high school next year because one of the teachers is retiring. And do you know who could be in line for that job? That's right. You guessed it! This girl! What?

I know.

The faster time goes by the quicker I'm slipping into adult world. It's already incredibly different to be on this side of the school system, but don't you know? I'm so used to being a student and being required to follow the student rules that the fact that I am no longer bound by them is still something I'm getting used to.

You mean I can actually answer a text in class and no one will threaten to take away my phone? What is this madness! Not that that gives me permission to abuse the privilege and ignore my students in favor of my phone conversations, but I don't have to convince my parents to go pick up my phone from the vice principal lest I get in trouble.

But that's really not the biggest thing, I mean, even though I'm excited about that. Mostly because I feel naughty replying to a text message or answering a call inside a classroom. I'm sure that will get less weird with time, but I'm still not quite there yet. But the biggest thing is that here I sit at almost 22 years old and I'm going to be teaching children.

Think about that for a second, if you will.

I am frequently asked what grade I'm going into this year. People mistake me for a freshmen in college and it's no exaggeration when I tell you their jaws drop once they find out I'm not only not a freshmen but I'm also about to graduate. I just feel like the fact that I look like I'm still in high school is going to be something I'll have to overcome during the course of my student teaching.

My wardrobe should help fix that. And my attitude. So we'll see how it goes. I'm excited about the actual teaching portion, but I'm not excited about all of the hoops I have to jump through to get certified. But on the plus side, job offer!!

The only downside to accepting this job offer, if it is indeed offered to me in the near future is that I'll have to move closer to that school which is farther away from The Boy and where I wanted to be. But at the same time, you know, real big person job! With salaries! And things!

a new adventure

Guys! It's August! And you know what that means right?

No, no. It doesn't mean moving into a dorm room in Moscow for my fifth year of school. I'm done with that dorm crap I tell you! And I have been for a while, although admittedly I did like living in the dorms for all the friends I made there...but anyway! No! I am living at home.

And going back to high school.

Say whaaat?

You heard me. High School. That confine with the cheerleading and the footballing, and the goths and the nerds and the latest gossip about who's dating who and the like, I mean, you remember it don't you? But AREN'T YOU SO TOTALLY EXCITED? Don't lie. I mean honestly I still get confused for a high school student and I'm almost 22 years old! But hey, I keep hearing that will serve me well in life, so I don't hate it. Okay, maybe a little and only because people sometimes don't take me serious.

Well, I'm not very serious. But only sometimes.

The bright side to this time around though, is that I'm on the other side of the high schoolers. I will be their art teacher! And they will LOVE it. I mean, they have to right? Who could resist this face?

I was in Moscow on Saturday to see The Boy and to attend the most prestigious pajama party on the block. I was so excited to see him that I could't fall asleep for hours and then once I did drift off to dreamland it was only for a few hours and then my body woke back up around five. Yeah, cool kid status up in here, up in here.

The pajama party was pretty great, but by 10 o'clock I was starting to die. So....tired...need....caffeine... Truth be told, I really just wanted a white coffee latte, but that late at night in the summertime where do you find one of those? Cruel joke, world.

So I went to the grocery store for an energy drink, because what else was I supposed to do? Just fall asleep on the couch? Not happening.

There's a point to this story, I promise.

The Boy came with me, and I picked out some fruit and a red Amp to help wake my brain back up. We discovered that our taste in bananas is vastly different. He likes them to be mushy and I prefer them just barely ripe - in case you were wondering.

In the check out line, the cashier was a pretty, young girl, but I didn't really notice who she was. She recognized me from school and asked me if I was going to teach any more classes at the university next semester. I had to look up from my wallet to see her face. She was one of my art 100 students.

We chatted about teaching and schooling for a few minutes and then I wished her a good night and The Boy and I left back for the car. He gives me this sidelong look like "what just happened?" So I told him I used to be her teacher.

As to which he asked about 7 billion questions about "But wait, you taught here? At the University?" and "how long was the class?" and "so then why are you so worried about student teaching?"

And really, why am I nervous about that? Because it's something I've never done before. It's totally classic fear of the unknown with me. I taught Art 100 studios for a year. I completed my practicum in the Moscow High School art room. I was a day camp counselor for two consecutive summers.

I have got this down.

But I'm still nervous. Excited, too, but mostly nervous. I figure once I'm actually there and I got my feet wet it won't be such a big deal. For now, though, it's a little nerve racking. What kinds of things do I need? What am I going to talk about? I've never done pottery before. I'll have to learn as much as the students. Deep breath. It'll be okay. I've got this.

Fake it til you make it, as they say. And I feel like that's exactly what I'll be doing. This is gonna be fun.

for the love of costumes

I know my last post was a little down and out, but writing has always helped me process emotions. I promise that I'm not ungrateful for the house that I live in, or the fact that I'm surrounded by my family. I just had some things that I needed to get off my chest and vent about.

After I vomited all that information up and got it out of my system, I felt a lot better. I also decided that that should be the end of it, and from here on out I'm going to change my attitude. This may not be the course that I chose for myself, but it's where I am right now and I'll get through it. It's a season of life that is only temporary and who knows? Maybe after this semester is over I will never live at my parents' house again. So I need to just simply enjoy my time here with them the way things are now, with or without my own bedroom.

So. Now for something completely unrelated, let me tell you a little bit about my job so far. I haven't actually worked yet, I just completed orientation yesterday and I'm waiting to be put on the schedule. I keep checking back, almost obsessively, to see what day they want me to come in, but to no avail. Nothing is posted.

And so I wait.

I was all jazzed up to be a cabana attendant and bartender, but after orientation finished and they sent me into the HR building to buy my uniform, they informed me of the switch up. Apparently I was reassigned to a barista position in the Victorian house. At first I was super disappointed that I wasn't going to be learning anything necessarily new, especially because I think it would be really fun to bar tend and learn to make more drinks than just coffee ones.

But then I tried on my Victorian era costume and, well really. I look smashing.

the keeper, photobombing.

sexy and i know it

I mean, am I going to rock it or what? Right? Right. No one is going to be able to resist buying coffee drinks from me. I will melt them with my charm and dashing good looks. 

But really, dudes, that costume! It is not uncomfortable! Just mildly warm. I hope my building is air conditioned. 

because everything changes

Well dudes, big announcement! Remember how I was formerly unemployed and living in the land of find a job? It seems that I have stepped up in this world to join the ranks of the working class citizens! Hip, hip, hooray!

This will hopefully not only provide the extravagant opportunity to bring home the dolla billz, but also it will aide in getting me out of this house. Not that I don't enjoy being here every. single. day...but we all know where I want to be.

I was reminiscing on this in the shower just a few moments ago. You see, we were sitting in the living room yesterday when my father made a comment about the totes that I moved from the shed into the house. He wanted to know how long they were going to be taking up space in our living quarters. Whether or not he intended to sound gruff is yet to be determined, and I tried not to take it too hard. But honestly, Dad, where do you want me to put my stuff?

I made the mistake of remarking yet again that I do not live here by choice. Those kinds of comments are not pleasing unto my father's ears, for understandable reasons.

But let me ask you this:

If you were previously dwelling in an apartment where you had your own room and space for your things would you enjoy moving to a place where you had no room, all your valuables were stored in a shed in the backyard and even though you did a lot of errand running, escorting your younger sister around, cleaning and cooking, you were still counted as lazy because, well, why haven't you got a job yet? What do you do all day? Just sit on your bum?

Frankly, I don't feel like I belong here. This is my parents' house. This is where my brothers and sister are currently residing and almost all the time I feel like a stranger. Or a guest. Who does a lot of chores. Like the hired-help without the payment. I don't have a bedroom and I'm sleeping in our travel trailer with only my duffle bag of clothes and a fan for company.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. I love seeing them and spending time with them. I miss them when I'm not here. And it's nice to eat my mom's cooking again. But I'm not happy. Trying to talk to my dad about it is out of the question too, because I start to bring up how I don't really like living in the trailer and he just gets mad at me. I guess he told my mom that he was done fighting with me, which I appreciate because when I first got here every conversation we had was a disagreement of some sort, but now it's like I don't even know what to say to him at all, lest something I say be misconstrued or misunderstood.

And things with my brother were bad at first too. He really liked to dog me about getting a job and most of the time I felt like I had two fathers ridiculing me every time I turned around. My situation with TheKeeper has marginally improved once I found out why he kept snapping at me. And I was honestly kind of shocked at what he had to say. You see, he's mad about the way money has been handled between me and my father and some of our arrangements. He blames me as being the reason that he has or hasn't gotten some of the help that he needed. So instead of being mad at our father and talking to him about his financial upsets, he was mad at me. But I have no control over the things my father decides to do or to not do, so how am I at fault?

I promise it's not like I don't want to fit in here, this is my family and I love them, but honestly guys? This is everything I was scared of happening coming to fruition.

I just want a bedroom. I want to be able to unpack my things and hang up my pictures and feel like I live here again. Moscow is a great escape because I don't have to walk on eggshells around anybody there and no one gets mad at me. I don't feel like anyone down there has a plan for my life and they're not trying to squish me into a mold or a certain direction that they believe I should be headed down. I can make my own decisions, and even though some people may not make the same decisions, it's all part of life and growing up.

I like talking to my parents about my decisions, but I hate getting ridiculed when they think I've made the wrong one. I think it's healthy to dialogue about big choices with people who have more insight and experience than I do, and my parents not only have more experience but they also can provide a Godly perspective. I just wish the family dynamic was a little different. I want to enjoy my time spent living back in the town from where I graduated high school. Hopefully the new job helps with that. A source of income is always welcome.

Spring Break 2012

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I didn't want spring break to be over. Ever.