pennies from heaven?

So, after all that whining...

I got the job!

I'm not sure what my content area is, but it looks like I'll have a classroom in August!

And, I move into my Dallas apartment May 27! It's adorable!

green minus yellow = faye

I'm blue.

I am one of those people who surprises others with how well I react to misfortune...for example, when smoke started coming out of my car on my way to an interview this weekend, I just smiled and looked into it. Don't sweat what you can't control, right? So, I lost my air conditioner. Who cares, right? I showed up sweaty but confident. When I got to this interview that I spent 9 hours driving to and unlimited hours preparing for only to find that the position had been filled earlier that week & so I was interviewing for a position on a waiting list, I said, "well, at least I gained experience." When, on the way home, the clutch in my little (much loved) car gave way and the car coasted along to the side of I35, where it stopped indefinitely- and where I, my husband, our dog & our cat would wait the next 4.5 hours for our family to come from KS and rescue us, I said, "at least our car died next to a meadow!"

I am one of those people who surprises others with how well I react to misfortune...or how well it seems that I react to misfortune. Enter Monday. Enter boughts of laughing and crying at the same time. Enter re-playing the same Friends DVD over and over. Enter emotional eating. Enter grumpy uber-psycho, Faye.

No car. No great new job. No money.

I'm blue.

I know. I know. My perspective is jacked. I will return to normal Faye, somewhere in between the creepy plastered smile when everything is going wrong and the even more disturbing fits of simultaneous laughter/tears.

Somewhere in here, I decided to share a quote that I stole from my once ex friend, Jenn. It is nice not to have an ex friend anymore...especially if I continue to get a stream of inspirational material like the following...

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

By Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on
the Principles of A Course in Miracles

yep. yep. yep. yep.

So, I got to thinking about personality types. I had already taken the Myers-Briggs test, based off of Jungian theory, but I thought I'd take it again to see if I've changed. Not so much. My results show that I've maintained ultimate flaky-ness. Last time I took it, I remember barely being introverted...I definitely do "charge up" in solitude rather than in a group, but I think I've become a little more introverted with age. My "intuitive" score is up, too. Ever the flaky-er.

I'm curious about what some of you are, so please tell me! Maybe I will just go tag your quiz-taking asses. My little blogger "link-maker" is somehow gone, so you will have to copy & paste:

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp

---

Anyways, here is me:

Your Type is...

INFP
Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiving
Strength of the preferences %
22 100 75 67

Qualitative analysis of your type formula
You are:
slightly expressed introvert
very expressed intuitive personality
distinctively expressed feeling personality
distinctively expressed perceiving personality

---

Famous INFPs:

Homer
Virgil
Mary, mother of Jesus
St. John, the beloved disciple
St. Luke; physician, disciple, author
William Shakespeare, bard of Avon
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Evangeline)
A. A. Milne (Winnie the Pooh)
Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House on the Prairie)
Helen Keller, deaf and blind author
Carl Rogers, reflective psychologist, counselor
Fred Rogers (Mister Rogers' Neighborhood)
Dick Clark (American Bandstand)
Donna Reed, actor (It's a Wonderful Life)
Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis
Neil Diamond, vocalist
Tom Brokaw, news anchor
James Herriot (All Creatures Great and Small)
Annie Dillard (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
James Taylor, vocalist
Julia Roberts, actor (Conspiracy Theory, Pretty Woman)
Scott Bakula (Quantum Leap)
Terri Gross (PBS's "Fresh Air")
Amy Tan (author of The Joy-Luck Club, The Kitchen God's Wife)
John F. Kennedy, Jr.
Lisa Kudrow ("Phoebe" of Friends)
Fred Savage ("The Wonder Years")

precision.

I've been thinking about this poem lately. It is one of my favorites---I am working on seeing people with "the eyes of the heart" instead of the eyes of our rushed, goal-oriented culture. (Working on seeing myself that way, too!) I think this poem speaks to this. It is a long-time favorite; sometimes it even brings tears--not spill-over. Just wells. :)

Read it. I love that Lee doesn't grasp the difference between persimmon and precision in the eyes of his teacher, but he really and truly grasps the essence of persimmon and precision far beyond her assessment of him. I wonder how often our culture misses the essence of life experiences, as we forge ahead with all of the technically correct answers.

Any Meyers-Briggs geeks out there? I think this poem also speaks to ENSP's/INSP's experiences...I remember becoming so obsessed with some creative projects in college that I would choose to turn it in late because I hated the idea of not making it as creative or as special as it was in my head-- My disregard for deadlines in interest of my obsession with the "essense" of my project got me into some trouble...I'm still working on that balance in some ways...okay, a lot of ways. :)

---

Persimmons

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down the newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew on the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down,
I teach her Chinese. Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I've forgotten.
Naked: I've forgotten.
Ni, wo: you me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn't ripe or sweet, I didn't eat
but watched the other faces.


My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.

Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set them both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang. The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father would stay up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons, swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents' cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.

He's so happy that I've come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.

Under some blankets, I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.

He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?

This is persimmons, Father.

Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.

-- Li-Young Lee

---

of mandalas & men. (tibetan monks, that is)

A Series of Awkward Moments: "BlogThis"

hello little blogger friends...I'm back! You know me, falling off of the face of the earth every now and then...but, I always come back. I could never leave you, oh no. The world of three jobs has been treating me a little roughly, so I've not been in an updating place. Of course, I'm also taking classes-- not sure if I'll ever be able to shake that little addiction.

I've just quit my job in the ed. dept. of the zoo, though...I will miss doing community presentations and teaching rug rats how to recycle, but it as it turns out, I'm not really into animals in cages. Or really, I'm just not sure how I feel about it. Zoos really might be our best conservation hope; I might (probably) will change my mind. For now, I think I'm a little more PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals...I know, Don't judge me!) than AZA (American Zoological & Aquarium Assoc.). So, I'm a less busy lady, which is nice...because I've been doing some extra reading up on Buddhism, and I'd like to do some more-- I have been interested in Buddhism as a way of life (not so much as a religion) for awhile, but I recently had the opportunity to see Tibetan monks create a mandala installation (which I think may end up being the inspiration for my first ever tattoo!)...watching them meditate and chant was moving in a way that I don't think I can put words to...You know, maybe it was my expected perception, but it seemed that the spirit of mindfulness and meditation actually gave the room this energy you could almost touch.

I'm now reading a book written by a Buddhist monk: "Working With Anger." A supervisor at my Peace and Justice job gave it to me when I found myself perplexed over what I perceive to be a spirit of anger within today's peace movement...The ironic thing is that in reading this book, I've found so much anger and discontent in myself that I would never have guessed is there...I think people might be surprised where they'll find anger and discontent in their psyche...for me, I think there is a fear of being judged, and a need to be well-thought of. love me! love me! :)

Speaking of being well thought-of, wish me luck, because I have some interviews coming up in a couple of weeks...Unfortunately, there aren't a ton of progressive political organizing positions in the brightest of bright red Dallas, but there are a couple. I'm looking at an environmental campaign and a national organization called ACORN. I'm hoping it will bode well for me that I do organizing for a peace & justice group now (albeit part-time...grassroots, dang-it!). How I wish that I could live near Mia and work for my all time favorite organization (well, right now), Global Exchange!!

I've surely mentioned that I'm hoping to go on a trip w/ Global Exchange this summer, to Nicaragua. This is why I serve up big slabs of meat and fries on the weekends these days. On these trips, you visit sweatshops, the infamous free trade zones, non-fair trade coffee plantations and then fair trade coffee plantations...I'm excited to put some faces to the sweatshop/fair trade campaigns I've been involved in. I've worked on some fair wage stuff here, and I'm currently working on a pretty big (for me) undertaking in promoting fair trade and environtmentally conscious consumerism here, which is the height of fun. Okay, not the height....but, it is fun....

This brings me back to Buddhism, because I think I'm attached to my identity as "helper"...of course, that's consistent with my values, but what if no one ever knew that I did any of this stuff? Would I feel as good about myself, or do I secretly need the stamp of approval? I remember when a person who I ended up becoming close with first met me and made some assumptions about me...I was so offended by her judgement of me, because i think I'm attached to my identity as a survivor, and for her not to perceive me in that way was threatening to me...attachments...attachments...attachment to ego is an interesting idea, isn't?

Sorry for the incomplete thought, but it's super late. I've been putting off going to bed b/c my husband's 24-7 MCAT studies have put him WAY under the weather...and I don't want what he's got.

Quote for today:

"There is more to life than increasing its speed."
-Mahatma Gandhi

the highest of arts.

Well, I'm not really in a writing sort of a place right now, but I wanted to update. So, I'll share my new favorite quote and a photo. The picture is one I took on a canopy tour in Costa Rica; this is a wild orchid high up in the rainforest.

I've decided to pick up an extra job for awhile back in restaurant world, just to sort of keep me on a schedule. I find that I'm not really using the extra time I've had on my hands the way I imagined. I would like to get a job that relates to my degree, but I'm not sure that's a good idea, because I'm moving in the summer...Anyways, when the thought of serving big hunks of meat (which I don't eat) to ungrateful locals turns me off, I think of this quote:

"To affect the quality of days- That is the highest of arts." -Henry David Thoreau

I've always thought that I needed to have a job that "helped people," but then I think of how you can really better people's days just by being nice to them...like the lady at the city hall office who always makes me in a better mood. Thanks city office lady!

awwww.

my beautiful dog.

So, I'm moving. I guess my blog friends won't miss me, since I'll be taking you along. I like my little college town on the prairie, but I'm going to go be blue in a whole other red state now. My little brother (who has cerebral palsy, who I've mentioned here before) and my dad, his wife and my two younger siblings all live in Dallas. I tried it for awhile for my first college semester, but it was a little too rat-race-ish for me to stay afloat. I was -and continue to be- sort of a baby...people like me are why you should give annoyingly slow drivers a break. I actually get my feelings hurt when I get honked at or flipped off. I am entirely too sensitive and nerdy to survive on Dallas freeways...I'm like this annoying perpetual victim. Instead of flipping someone off back, I want to cry, "WHY, WHY would you WANT to hurt my feelings?!" I don't really think I am meant to be on the road anyways. I try to live in areas where I don't have to drive. Driving makes me crave xanax, which I don't think you're supposed to take when you drive anyways. The last time I lived in Dallas, it was unique for being one of the biggest cities in the US to have crap for public transportation. They just cannot get enough pollution down there; apparently, the word is out that Jesus will return before the air turns completely black. Things have changed a little, though, and you can now get to where you need to go via bus lines and trains. AND, we're going to live in the downtown area...so we can walk to where we want to eat. .

Speaking of eating, my new life in WW is going all right. I like the idea that I'm paying closer attention to what I'm bringing into my body. Before my knees were jacked up and I ran quite a bit, I think I ate about the same amount, and I was basically skinny. Now that I don't get that great exercise and am...ahem...getting a little older (turned 26 in September and am to the point where it behooves me to apply eye cream before bed), my butt is getting pretty droopy. And, I think one of the fatal mistakes of people who used to be skinny is that can exist in this state of reverse anorexia, in which they feel skinnier than they are...enter disturbing realistic photograph...*gasp*

Anyways, we're moving in June, most likely. I think I'll go ahead and teach special ed. down there, although it may take me a semester to get my certification in TX. I actually ended up with a degree in psych, although I have far more coursework in education.

Funny, I had decided that I could not teach, that I didn't fit in with the profession somehow...but, I think it had something to do with being in smallville. The idea became more and more stifling for me. Something about being in a bigger place makes teaching sound fun again. Maybe it takes some pressure off? I don't know. I can't really place the reasoning behind my randomness. One thing that I think contributed to my very early feeling of burn-out was that I only wanted to teach special ed--that's it. It never even occurred to me to teach in a traditional classroom...but sp. ed. training at my university really was just a cherry on top of lottttttts and lottttts of reg. ed. training. I enjoyed many parts of it, but it was difficult to stay passionate, because it just was not what I went to school for. --I was writing curriculum after curriculum, doing practicums, creating projects...and, all of it was stuff I knew I would never take into my classroom, because it was all to be for reg. ed. kids. If I had it to do over again, I would go to school in a state other than KS where there is an actual entire major just for special ed. At any rate, I'm going to start applying soon for some moderate MR classrooms, or something along the lines of life skills--that's what I'm interested in. I'm looking forward to it.