he sat on a busy downtown corner doing what he loved, playing music for whomever cared to listen.  and for that matter, those who didn’t.  his spot all laid out, he jammed and grooved to the rhythm of his drum beats.  the music oozed out of him and flowed as naturally as wine from a bottle.  it was a chilly night  but the atmosphere was festive for the upcoming holidays.  people of all kinds walked past him.  most ignored him but some listened as they quickly made their way through the cool night air on their way to their final destination.  he sat cross-legged on a blanket, his drum in his lap.  his floppy corduroy hat sat just slightly askew on his head, with strands of  hair sticking out in every direction from underneath.  he was in a musical zone, glancing up every now and then.  and then he saw her.  she was walking with a group of her girlfriends on their way to somewhere, he didn’t know.  she was laughing, smiling and dancing to the beat of his music thoroughly enjoying herself.  he smiled and quickly looked down.  she didn’t notice but her friend quietly whispered to her that he had smiled at her.  she looked at him and smiled too.  as she rounded the corner, she couldn’t help herself but to again move to the music that flitted through the air after them.  it was almost uncontrollable, as if natural instinct.  she’d never see this street musician again but through his music and energy and smile, she found him likable and a sort of kindred spirit.  he watched the trio of girls turn the corner.  he’d brought joy to someone and although they hadn’t spoken a word, and although she gave him no money for his music, and although they hadn’t said a word to one another, he liked her he knew.  never to meet again, connected through music, the two strangers went about their evenings, ever so slightly more filled with happiness and hope that joy is still attainable.

What Teachers Make, or Objection Overruled, or If things don’t work out, you can always go to law school

By Taylor Mali www.taylormali.com

He says the problem with teachers is,

“What’s a kid going to learn

from someone who decided his best option in life

was to become a teacher?”

He reminds the other dinner guests

that it’s true what they say about teachers:

Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his

and resist the temptation

to remind the other dinner guests that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we’re eating, after all,

and this is polite company.

“I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor,” he says.

“Be honest. What do you make?”

And I wish he hadn’t done that (asked me to be honest) because,

you see,

I have a policy about honesty and ass-kicking:

if you ask for it,

I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor

and an A- feel like a slap in the face.

How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence.

No, you may not work in groups.

No, you may not ask a question.

Why won’t I let you get a drink of water?

Because you’re not thirsty, you’re bored, that’s why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:

I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,

I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.

Billy said, “Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?”

And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,

I make them question.

I make them criticize.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them write, write, write.

And then I make them read.

I make them spell definitely beautiful,

definitely beautiful,

definitely beautiful

over and over and over again until they will never misspell either one of those words again.

I make them show all their work in math.

And hide it on their final drafts in English.

I make them understand that if you got this (brains)

then you follow this (heart)

and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make,

you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you,

so you know what I say is true:

I make a goddamn difference!

What about you?

if not now, when?  how often do i mumble this phrase, how often do i secretly judge others for their complacency when i am much worse?  far too often.  for some reason, almost as the calendar turned pages bringing in the new month, i have been overwhelmed with sense of action.  or, at least, moving in the direction of taking action. 

i’ve made some decisions regarding some relationships in my life which has been, as odd as it sounds, liberating for me.  honesty is a big big deal for me and yet i find it hard at times to be completely honest with friends, especially when it’s regarding conflict or issues i may have with them.  i’m not going to go as far as to seek them out and verbally chastise them, but i will certainly not skirt the issue anymore.  knowing that, knowing i will follow through, feels good.

i’ve been missing volunteering down at the food bank.  i stopped doing it about 6 -8 months ago, i don’t remember exactly.  and it’s the holiday times and there are advertisements for NW Harvest or Food Lifeline all over the place, even donation drop boxes.  i kept telling myself that i should just volunteer with them and that i’d do that as soon as things calmed down.  but why wait?  this morning i filled out a volunteer application for NW Harvest and i’m really excited to hopefully be getting back to serving the community and those hurting, it’s where my heart wants to be in service. 

there is an annual telethon called Foster Kids Holiday Magic that KIRO 97.3 FM sponsors in conjunction with Treehouse.  every year i listen and get misty eyed when they tell stories of the kids in foster care.  and every year i wish i could donate and help make Christmas a good one for those kids.  and every year i know i can’t be one of those big donators because of where my finances are, so i donate nothing.  i avoided being part of the foster care system myself.  by nothing short of the Grace of God, and swift adoption proceedings, i avoided it and never knew the chaos and hurt and scary situations that these kids deal with and for that i am eternally grateful.  every year this tugs at my heartstrings.  well this morning i went online to the website hosted by KIRO (www.mynorthwest.com) and i found a toy i could purchase for $25.  it’s not much but it’s something.  it’s a something that the child who receives it wouldn’t have otherwise had.  some kid put that item on their wish list.  to some kid, this will be a treasure and who am i to let my pride of not being able to buy some kid a Playstation, get in the way of this smaller but just as valuable present?  right?! so i got over it and bought it and it feels really good! 

if not now, when? the future will catch up to us and i dont’ want to be caught having done nothing but say “i will later.”

Upon first entering the café your senses are rushed with the sweet rich smell of everything chocolate.  Hand rolled truffles of all kinds sit on trays in little rows inside the glass display case.  Perfect balls of chocolate heaven resting in their paper wrappers just waiting for you to pick them to eat.  Bittersweet, cocoa beware, Aztec, kalua… delicious orbs that melt into your mouth taking you to a level of sweet culinary ecstasy rivaled only by that of the coffee beverages that are sold just feet away in the same establishment.  The café is warm and invites you in from the cold sidewalk.  The lighting is soft and the hardwood floors and soft chairs that your body just sinks into make for the perfect atmosphere.  As I sit and type, sip my coffee and gaze out the window at the cars passing by, the aroma that wafts into my nostrils is just fabulous.  My chocolate coffeehouse hideaway is like the hug I needed after my day.  It wasn’t a horrible day but I could have used a hug.  I feel better now.  Whether it’s that I’m not at work or that I’m taking some personal time to just write or whether it’s the coffee I’ve just had I don’t know.  It’s been quite the last few days.  I woke up this morning to find that 4 more arson fires had been set in my neighborhood making the total over the last 3 weeks 10.  Since moving into this area about 2 years ago, I’ve embraced it as my own.  Aside from the cul-de-sac house I grew up in, I’ve never felt like I belonged or really liked for that matter, the neighborhoods where my many apartments have been.  I love this area! So as I sit here and look out the window, I see across the street one of the businesses that was set on fire earlier last week.  I’ve walked past that guitar shop many times.  It makes me sad.  I don’t know whether or not it’s because my family has personally been affected by fire or not, but it’s angering to me that someone could do that to someone else’s livelihood.  I just don’t get it.  The barista guy working just sat down in a chair 3 feet away from me.  He’s watching a guy standing on the street corner outside the shop.  We started chatting, the barista boy and I about this neighborhood we both love.  He sits vigilant to protect his shop; I sit watching now too, writing and chatting with him and trying to figure it all out.  In a perfect world filled with nothing but chocolate coffeehouse hideaways and hole in the wall pubs and used bookstores and good people, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.  But like the book title that I once loved said, “Nothing’s Fair in 5^th Grade” and so we sit vigilant and enjoy the people we love, the simple pleasures in life, and do our small part to better the world.  For better or worse, it is what it is.

It’s not their fault they look like that, I used to say.

One boy in particular in elementary school comes to mind.

Curly hair, soft spoken, a little odd.

I found a fondness for him, a kindred spirit if you will.

Mocked, for reasons unknown to me, we both endured.

I never got it.

Why would you do that?

Physical abnormalities you could call them.

His curly hair, my being tall and awkward.

Things we could do nothing about.

Yet almost torturous we dealt with the laughs, the words.

The many words that stung.

Tired of standing up for myself, my focus turned to him.

My words were strong.

On his behalf I stood, bold and unmovable.

In my own way, this was on my behalf as well.

Masked slightly but standing in for the same efforts.

To make fun of someone for things out of their control,

I cannot understand, I simply do not.

To what purpose does it serve?

Then it came to me,

Insecure in their own skin,

Anger turned sideways,

Aimed outward.

It’s nothing more than a cycle.

They were mocked therefore they mock.

It takes looking beyond your own pain to see the pain in others.

In their meanness, inside their rage, inside their unthinkable behavior,

I simply feel sorry for them.

It’s sad though, that it takes having to build up a thick skin to realize this.

We smile for people we ought not smile for.  For they care not for us. 

We act a particular way for those we ought not pretend for, for they care not as we care.

We love in certain ways those we ought not love.  At lease that’s what we’re told.

 The world thinks in mysterious ways.  It thinks not like we do.  It thinks to preserve itself, in selfish ways.  Anything not out to give to it, it wants nothing to do with.  Things to it that seem foolish, that’s where we ought to be.  In harms way, in the scary places, in the dirt and grime of everyday life that isn’t pretty or fragrant.  But we hide.  We hide in the light. Because it’s easy to pretend to be what we aren’t. 

 As was once so poetically written in a song I love… this is the last time that I smile for the sake of being with you.  Simply put, it means stop hiding in the light and behaving not as you truly are.  I think no truer words were sung.

upside down.

nothing makes sense,

emotions are running rampant and and crisscrossing and exploding out.

self doubt then hate then hurt then laughter,

all at a situation that isn’t funny at all but that’s all you can do.

now there are no more tears.

there are no more words.

just a feeling of empty.

a still small voice,

shouting through the chaos of your mind.

it reminds you,

man’s ways are not God’s ways.

you will be alright.

so you get up and pace yourself for what lay ahead.

there is no promise of swift ease, there is no promise of a painless finality.

but with resolve, you walk on.

life.

i had an interesting conversation earlier this week with a friend regarding respect.  she used it in a way i never really had considered. 

we were talking about our families and what’s going on in our lives right now, the basic girl catch-up type conversation.  you know, the ones that must take place before the real important stuff can be discussed, such as will the bridesmaid dress still fit or why must men behave the way they do sometimes or does it hurt cats when they have sex.  i kid you not, this was actually discussed. anyhow, as we were talking, she was talking about her husband TJ, who has been my friend since we were in pre-school together, and she mentioned his reaction to something.  a reaction that i’ve often felt but thought it was just me being strange or something so i’ve kept it to myself for the most part.

perhaps it’s us being the oldest siblings or perhaps it’s just our personalities being what they are (we’re pretty alike), but there seems to be this strange phenomenon that happens around us.  to us it feels like we’re being kept out of the loop, left out, not trusted.  and it conjures up frustration on our part and a confused state of mind.  basically, there are times when those close to us keep things from us.  i’ve had friends and family members who have had major stuff happen in their lives and tell others, but not tell me.  so has TJ.  so why don’t we get told?  from the perspective of the ‘injured’ party, it seems like we’re not ‘inside the circle of trust,’ or we are just kind of after-thoughts or that we’re perceived as being super judgemental.  which is frustrating and at times hurtful.  as i was sitting on the couch with my her, she was telling me that she thinks it’s a respect issue.  not that they don’t respect us, but more that they respect us so much that they’d rather not disappoint us so they don’t tell us.   i honestly had never looked at it like that.  to me, i want to know what’s going on in the lives of those i care about.  if they’re in trouble or struggling with something or need help i want to know about it.  i might not be able to do anything but at least i can offer a hug or a support or say “I love you” and then have a discussion about the issue at hand.  i want to be able to live honestly and realistically with my friends.  if they do things that i’m not into i don’t want to be left out of the their lives simply because of that.  a month or so ago i was hanging out with a couple friends.  we ended up after dinner going back to one friend’s apartment.  i was told to wait in the hallway until they cleaned some stuff up.  when i entered i was thrilled they’d done that because even still, it was most definitely a bachelor pad and i was clearly in man land.  but that’s not what bothered me.  it was the drug paraphernalia that they cleaned up.  i appreciate the gesture i suppose.  but i’m not stupid.  i know this one friend smokes weed.  i’ve known for some time.  and they did a poor job of hiding the evidence.  so why bother hiding the stuff?  it made me irritated all evening.  i tried to get over it.  were they hiding it because they were trying to girl-ify the place?  did he not want me to know?  was he embarrassed?  was i not trusted with this information?  do i come off as a prude and he was just trying to avoid a lecture he thought would come?  my frustration quickly turned to being hurt.  and i’m not sure why.  i think it was partially because they couldn’t be themselves, wholly who they are in front of me and i’ve long thought that i was a comfortable person to be around.  with some friends, our lives are open books but with others, not so much.  so i’m at a loss for words as to what this all means.

everyone has ’skeletons in their closets’ and everyone has things they are not to proud of.  but i’ve always been one that wants to live life how it is.  why sugar coat things?  right?  so when my friend brought up that maybe the reason this kind of thing happens to me and to TJ, it truly is an issue of they don’t want to lose our respect.  so if that’s the case, is it something we are to get over or is it something that those who leave us out, need to be more mindful of?  i’m not sure.  i do know that it’s given me something to think about for sure.

i once wrote that i’ve got this new found freedom. a personal freedom to decision make without fear of retribution from people.  a personal freedom to not care about the petty and unimportant junk that clutters an already too fast moving and all to short life.  a personal freedom to ‘eat my eggs’ how i like them and not cater to those i’m trying fruitlessly to impress.  a personal freedom to re-introduce myself to me.  but with freedom comes consequence.  consequence not in the negative sense but rather just in that with every action comes a response. 

one thing i’ve found is the freedom of learning to let go. letting go of the notions of grandeur i’d foreseen in my life isn’t always easy.  we all form ideas of how we see things playing out, of how we’d like situations and relationships to evolve, or where we see ourselves not only now but in the future.  and when those things don’t look like they’ll happen or when people act as people often do, with free choice… our visions often must change.  realizing that you’ve leaned on a relationship or the idea of how you thought one was or would be or should be, but realistically isn’t… well, it’s hard.  letting go is truly hard.  letting go doesn’t always mean the end of something.  it means another round of freedoms being discovered not only for the idea or person  you’ve let go of, but also personally. but in the meantime…

there is a scene from the movie “Runaway Bride” that closely represents where i’m at in life right now.  Maggie (aka:  Julia Roberts) is confronted with the fact that she has no idea what kind of eggs she likes.  she just sort of adopts as her favorite, whatever kind her current boyfriend happens to like.  eventually she is confronted and told plainly that she makes no decisions for herself, or rather, forms no opinion on certain things, to make life easier or for whatever reason she may have.  when she breaks up with the most recent boyfriend, she decides she WILL determine what kind of eggs she herself likes best.  she makes a small plate of each kind and begins her journey.  she ends up with the realization that eggs benedict is her favorite and she hates all other kinds of eggs. 

in a way, i’ve been like that.  there are things i’m opinionated about for sure, but there are moments where i just kind of meld into what the majority wants, or i ‘like’ things because someone else does and vice-versa, or i do things because that’s what someone i may like, likes.  and like Maggie, i don’t even realize i do that.  i’m not sure exactly what the defining moment was (i have a vague idea, but i’ll keep that private) for me but sometime over the weekend, i just had this sort of wake up call.  i did a lot of purging and cleaning and organizing of my stuff.  and it was so liberating!  i dropped off 5 bags of stuff to the thrift store.  and in a way, this was the beginning.  as i sorted and decided what stayed and what got donated, i did a lot of thinking and clearing out of my mind. 

i’ve never been a sheep.  i don’t follow just for the sake of following trends.  but i do like to please people (which in and of itself isn’t bad), and sometimes in the process, i lose myself.  i’m not sure where this came from either.  it’s like i’ve had this secret stash of likes and dislikes and opinions that i know about but no one else did.  this new feeling has been very refreshing.  i was trying to verbalize this new sensation i’m feeling to a friend the other day and this is what it boiled down to for me:  i’ve chosen to not care.  not in the sense that i don’t care about people or causes or my faith and what-have-you, but more in meaning that i no longer care if someone is taken aback by the fact that i think different politically than a huge chunk of the general population.  or that i’m no longer going to sit around waiting for someone to take notice of me whilst i pretend to be certain things that i’m not, ultimately wasting my time. 

i could go into an exhaustive list of what’s been liberating for me, but that would be boring and tedious.  all i know is that being true to myself and using this new found (or just dusting ‘me’ off again) freedom will allow me to tap into my gifts more, to utilize my skills and passions for the good and benefit of others, and to truly calculate what’s important and worthwhile.  woot-woot!