Something smells like fire... and it might be my desire to live.

No, it's not that bad. But I have to admit that I am tired. Exhausted, really. Cranky (that could be attributable to PMS, which is highly likely since "America the Beautiful" played on the organ almost made me cry today... as did an episode of Glee a few days ago when a cranky gym teacher is found to have a sister with special needs. Don't tell anyone, though. Tears are weakness.) I woke up late for work one morning and didn't feel an ounce bad about it.

...OK, maybe I felt, like, 4 ounces bad about it, but that didn't keep me from laughing about it and secretly being grateful for being able to "sleep in." I usually love going in to work. I've been sleep-deprived, partially because I'm up talking to graduates who want to "fill me in" on their knife-selling business at 10:45 at night. For 45 minutes.

I called out a student in class this week. I mean, called him OUT. Worst of all, WITH the intention of shutting him down and making him feel bad. For record, I have NEVER done that in the past... I was in control of myself, but I was definitely not holding myself back. I am trying to convince myself that I don't believe he deserved it. I am still now working on repentance... he SO deserved it though....... the carnal beast in me is taking FOREVER to die on this one. He's a rough one, though, even the students agree. Unusual case, maybe?

My patience is on... I am mixing up my metaphors here because I want to say "a shoestring," but I'm certain that's not the word. Ida is on the loose (the hurricane, not a student, or a rabid dog) which made this week really oppressive, which made my students that much more needy, which made them call out my name at LEAST (I mean it!) 5x more than normal. Which can explain why I'm going crazy.

Either all of the above is true, and happening at the same time, or... I'm burning out.

I'd much prefer the former option, even with all its necessary coincidences. I'm pretty certain I'm PMSing. Augh, the shackles of womanhood. Can I sell my uterus? Anyone? Anyone? Aaaaanyone?

In the midst of all this chaos, there is one constant. By now, ya'll should know what that is. (See? I used the word "ya'll." Do you have any OTHER explanation for this behavior?! And I'm shouting! Ranting, really. As much as I can in print, anyway. Somehow it's.... almost... as effective as the real vocalizations. Much quieter. Which brings me to remember that I have been on the ranting mood lately, which really doesn't happen that much, either. Or maybe it does and I only notice it when I'm PMSing. At this point, I am desperately hoping this is PMS. Help me, someone.)

Oh yes, I was talking about the Constant. I was talking to a student about this once... he liked math, so I was trying to talk to him from a mathematical perspective... though all the world around us (including ourselves) are variables, God is our One True. He is the Constant. The one that stays the same.... the one that can be relied upon to remain the same, no matter what equation He is plugged in to. He is the creator of the equation, of the balance, of the safety net, of all the padded rooms in our brains...

Anyhow. I should get going. I am remembering that I do love my students after all. Even "that one." Well, I might have to pray about that some more. But believe you me, I will. I will. Watch out, buddy...

Sigh. Or maybe it's not a bad thing to want a hand once in a while...

Thanksgiving Break is coming to save the day.........

or, Bumping Into Me in the Mirror

For some reason, I am thinking of the time I was in a department store years ago. I was pushing through some particularly cluttered aisle of clothes, looking for whoever I had come with, and in my struggle, I bumped into someone. "Oh, sorry!" I had said, apologetically. I turned around to meet my victim, and came face to face with... myself. I had backed into a mirror. (As a side note, I've done this with mannequins as well.)

It's been quiet lately. The good news is that as it gets darker earlier, I've also been coming home from work earlier. The days I come home before 7 are becoming more and more frequent, and some days I'm home before 6:30! Astounding and amazing! Will wonders ever cease?

The thought crossed my mind that everything I've wanted to blog about, I've already blogged about. It wasn't long until I dismissed that thought as preposterous. It's like how John ended his gospel. If all the acts of Jesus were to be recorded, it would fill the world.

And if I recorded all that He has done in my life, it too, would run over the volumes and volumes of bound books that would come out from under my hand, or perhaps in this digital age, jump over into gigabites and tetrabites, and whatever other kind of inflictions the jaws of my keyboard pounding could cause.

More to come. More to come.

Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly....

You know, after all this, and by all this I mean more than just years and years of blogging, it all comes down to the same thing.

I need Jesus.

Not in the whole cliche, "yeah, we all need to be saved," kind of deal, but in the rawest sense. In the deep down, everything-else-can-only-fail (and-I-keep-trying-those-doors-anyway) sense. Those were a lot of hyphens. If you haven't noticed, those are my favorite punctuation marks. After the parenthesis, of course. I still have a vivid memory of 5th grade, when my teacher's friend was visiting and decided to edit my paper. It was on Christopher Columbus or something, and she was commenting on my hyphens. Or were they parenthesis? Who knows.

I digress.

So here I am, already past my bedtime (I refrained from making a parenthetical comment on that one. Oh wait. Darn.), thinking about the past few years. And seriously, I feel like one of those punching bag dolls. You know, the kind that are inflatable and kind of roll around on the floor on some kind of curved base. The idea is that you punch it, and punch it, and punch it, and it keeps poppin' back up.

I am being frank here. I am getting tired of getting punched. Admittedly, there is a lot of pride wrapped up in the fact that I keep getting back up. But I am still sick of getting thrown down.

And I can say that because a lot of the time, I am the one punching myself. You know what I mean. There are punches that come from the world, and then there are punches that are self-inflicted. Situations that you put yourself into that you walked into that shouldn't have even been set up in the first place. Counsel that you've neglected. Good ideas that are just put on the back burner because you are prioritizing other, "more important" things.

And when I say "you," I mean "I." I am prioritizing other things. I am not eating the things I know will give me a sharper, clearer mind that I so value in this line of duty. I am not keeping my body in tune like I used to. Furthermore, I am not eating or exercising my spiritual muscles as they need to be exercised, and I am just sick of it.

There is no more '"bouncing back up."

Because there will be no more self-sabotage.

As if it were that easy, huh. If victory could be won by sitting behind a computer screen, I think a few thousand people (I am being conservative) would already be able to hand in their vouchers for entrance through those pearly gates. Unfortunately, as we have been justly warned, life ain't that easy. I still don't understand how the knowledge (that things won't be that easy) does not help the situation AT ALL. You'd think it would make some significant difference. Perhaps it does.

So maybe this isn't an ultimatum. It's not even a decent treatise. What it is is the expression of my frustration. I am sick of coming up short-changed. And knowing that it is I who am doing it to myself. I am sick of self-sabotage. And I am sick of seeing it around me.

I'm sick of the devil messing with my students. I am sick of the things they have to deal with and the problems that they will continue to have in their future because of the things that are thrown at them now. I am sick of dealing with drugs, sex, and the retarded entertainment industry that is effectively robbing my kids of useful brain cells.

Do you hear me? I'M SICK OF IT!!!!!

And I am not trying to be cute, or dramatic, or anything other than frustrated.

I am honestly so sick of fighting. And it seems like the battle never ends. What I think are the frontlines are just a confused huddle in a mass Controversy that spans bigger than it often seems on my spot of the planet. And you know what? That little confused huddle is more than enough for me to handle at this point.

Ahem.

So, apologies in advance for my outburst. But I am going to revise my battle strategies (for the umpteenth time.) And once again, I am going to throw my trust behind the One Man who can actually do this. And remember that it is not just about action. It is about faith. And importantly (important, because this is the thing that often falls to the wayside) it is about obedience. It is about being humble, and open to the possibility that there are options out there that has never even been considered.

I am open to that.

I believe.