This accidentally published a few weeks ago. Sorry if it is a repeat for some of you who have my blog on a reader.  I wrote and finalized a poem for this post that is at the bottom.

A few weeks ago, I was finishing Fahrenheit 451 with my honors class and we were discussing this scripture, which is quoted in the book:

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

My students were literally leaning forward in their desks.  This scripture really influenced and affected them.  Only one had heard the scripture before (but once I played the song by The Byrds “Turn! Turn! Turn!” they recognized it).  They all wanted a copy of it to keep for themselves.

As I’ve thought about this since, I realized that they have never been taught the principal of “This too shall pass.”  They live their lives in the now, in the moment, without any thought to the future and often the past.  So when things are bad, they are really bad.  They have a hard time thinking that this will change soon.

As a child when I was upset my mother would always say to me, “Go to sleep.  You’ll feel better in the morning.”  Now, I do love sleep, but what I think my mother was trying to teach me was distance.  To allow myself to calm down, get some distance, and with distance you gain perspective.  Perspective is all about seeing something in the grand scale of things – seeing everything around it in relation to your object.

This was also a lesson for myself.  To gain perspective and distance.  I need to remember that when I’m teaching the students that I teach.  Too often I feel hopeless at the end of the day.  Too often I wonder what I’m doing there.  Too often I don’t see the forest because I’m staring at one stubborn, rude, little leaf.

There is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

Maybe, just maybe, that also applies to my current state of singleness – although, to be honest, some days it just doesn’t feel like it will ever be my time and season and I certainly don’t see the purpose of it.  As I have been thinking about this all, I wrote a poem about it.

There is a Season and a Time
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter

A season to mourn, a season to rejoice.
A time to laugh, a time to cry.

My time to work, cook, clean, grade, drive, teach and dream.

A time to sleep
just a little bit longer.
A time to relax
and read just for fun.
A time to study light,
looking into the heavens wondering.

There is a plan,
or so I’ve been told.
There is a direction,
but I don’t know where to head.
There is a purpose,
but I don’t have one.

Is it the fall of my life?
Things beginning to age.
Did I just skip over summer?
Where was my June?
Weddings and Bells.
Children playing, running, red-faced by the sun?

Or is it still Spring?
Am I still stuck in
April showers, waiting for
the first tulip
buried in darkness
to reach for the sky.

Some days it feels like winter,
cold and dark.
Waiting for the sun rays
to greet me,
taking me to the New Years
A new cycle
A new beginning.

There is a season
Which one am I in?
Summer, Winter, Fall, Spring
There is a time
Night and day, light and dark
Dusk and dawn of life.
There is a purpose.
I’m trying to find mine.
It wasn’t where I thought it would be.

Like an online dating site
You log-on when convenient
and expect me to respond.

You play with my heart,
clicking, chatting, and uploading
more of yourself into my profile.

Or maybe I’m absorbing you
like a virus affecting and infecting my
internal hard drive.

Until you finally break the password
into my heart.
Then move onto your next hack job.

While I try to repair and reload who I thought I was.
Slowly deleting your cookies and encryption keys
from within me.

===========

Note: This poem is completely made up and from my imagination. I mean, lets be honest: I haven’t dated anyone in so many years I don’t even remember what it is like. Note ended.

Good Monday Morning all!

This last weekend I went to see Beastly with a few friends for my birthday.

Doesn’t that movie poster just look awesome! For my review, I am going to give it 3 1/2 stars.

It is a modern day retelling of Beauty and the Beast – teenage style.  The self-obsessed, attractive, rich boy gets cursed by a witch.  He has one year to make someone fall in love with him or he stays ugly forever.  It was everything I expected it to be and everything I wanted out of it.

Thumbs Up

• Cute guy, cute girl.
• Awesome tattoos and scars.
• Neil Patrick Harris is hi-lar-i-ous!  I would see it again just because of him.
• Mary-Kate Olsen, who plays the witch, is amazing.  She was my favorite character I think.  Her dresses/outfits are killer and the shoes.  Don’t even get me started on the shoes.  Even the hair and makeup were superb on her.  Bravo!
• It is based on a wildly popular young adult novel that I will now have to read.

Thumbs Down

• I was confused the first 10 minutes or so.  I couldn’t understand the lingo of what they were all saying.  “Embrace the suck.”  Hmmm…..are they all reluctant vampires?
• Parts of the movie felt rushed, like they had to skip things to get it all under 1.5 hours.
• Because of this, I didn’t really believe that they really fell in love.
• And because I didn’t really believe they were in love the ending felt too short.

Will I be buying it?  No.  But if it came on TV I would sit down and watch it.

Do I regret going to see it?  No.  It was just what I wanted.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

——–

Chapter 3

The road to Mill Hollow is an old dirt road off the main highway.  The road winds through the canyon and up into the mountains.  After 50 years of busses going up and down the road, some sections have deep ruts.  The ruts are so deep that the busses bounce up the road and around the corners.  This can either be fun for the campers, or scary.  Or worse yet, some campers throw-up.  As the bus goes further and further up the mountain, you acend from a 4500 feet elevation to a 9000 foot elevation.  This steep incline and increase in elevation can cause elevation sickness and the constant bouncing of the bus makes it much worse.  At some points, the road goes into steep switchbacks, where only one car can fit, let alone one bus.

The entire drive takes about 2 hours.  But as you come around the final curve the trees clear and the view opens to the meadow.  In the distance is the main lodge of the camp.  Next to the road is the sign for Mill Hollow.  As a child Anna remembered waiting and waiting for this bend in the road and the sign.  All the campers would cheer as they saw it – excited and nervous for their time at camp.

It wasn’t until they saw that sign and the meadow and the lodge that it felt real.  They, as 10 year olds, were without parents.  It was about as free as you could get when you were little. For some kids, fear was the predominant emotion.  Fear of being alone.  Fear of missing family,  And fear of the unknown.

Making this drive as an adult, Anna was surprised at how much the feelings remained the same.  She was excited for the summer, but didn’t know what it might bring.  She did know that freedom would be part of it.  For the first time in her life, she would be left alone without parents or friends to guide or influence her.  Anna wondered, “What kind of person am I?  What do I really think and what do I really believe?”

Fear also sank in like fog on a cold day.  Anna wasn’t good at getting to know other people.  To her, it already felt as though no one wanted to be her friend.  She felt alone, standing naked in the middle of the meadow she loved as a child.

The drive up the mountain was painful for Anna.  She was in a car with Kenny, Ellen, and Shelly.  Kenny, Ellen, and Anna had all just graduated from high school.  They attended different schools and so didn’t know each other.  Kenny didn’t speak then entire way up the mountain.  Anna kept glancing at him in my rearview mirror, checking to see if he was still breathing.  He just stared off, out the window at nothing as the trees flashed by.  Shelly was 19 years old, one year older than the others, but this was her first year working at the camp.  She also didn’t know anyone. So, here they were, the four new employees stuck together.

Ellen, on the other had, would not shut up.  Usually Anna likes people who talk because they can carry the conversation for her.  Anna felt as though she wasn’t good that small talk and chit chat.  Neither was Ellen.  She just liked to talk about herself.

“So, how did you get the job?” Ellen asked me as we started up the canyon.

“I applied, was interviewed.  Just like you.” Anna responded with a questioning glance at Shelly who was sitting next to me.  “I mean, how else do you get a job?” Anna thought.

“Oh, well I’ve basically been guaranteed a job if I ever want to work here.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“My grandfather started the camp and was the first camp director.”

“That’s cool.”  Anna didn’t really think it was that cool, but she was trying to be nice.  She didn’t want to make enemies, even if she didn’t want Ellen as a friend.

“Yeah.  I practically lived up here in the summers, when I was a kid.  This one time . . .”  and that was about the time that Anna faded out.  Anna could tell Ellen was one of those people who only needed a “uh huh” and a “yeah” every once in a while and then she would keep talking without much encouragement.

In an attempt to seem interested in Ellen and her new co-workers, Anna studied them through the rearview mirror.  Ellen was a big girl.  As she talked about hikes and trails that Anna didn’t think were actually there, Anna wondered if she had ever actually hiked in her life.  Then she felt bad; Anna wasn’t exactly in the best shape either.  It wasn’t that she was fat or anything, but being an artist, she didn’t get out much.  Anna liked to be indoors or at least sitting while she would draw and paint.  But what bothered Anna the most was Ellen’s greasy, brown hair.  It was the type of hair that always looked dirty and even though it didn’t smell, you thought that it did.  It was distracting.  But what made it worse was the constant touching.  Ellen would pull one strand back, tuck it behind her ear, and then two minutes later do it again.  Anna mentally reminded herself that she didn’t want to shake her hand.

Kenny was lanky, but it wasn’t unattractive. You could tell that in a few more years he would grow into his body.  Every once in a while he would smirk and Anna just knew that he was going to be one of the funniest kids at the camp.  His sly smile would make Anna wonder what he was thinking and she wanted to be part of the ideas going around in his head.

Shelly was also quiet, but had a constant polite smile on her face.  She looked as though she might actually be listening to and enjoying Ellen retelling her life story to three strangers.  Anna didn’t trust people who were always so polite.  She was a quiet person, but she did say what she thought.

About an hour and fifteen minutes into the drive Anna pulled up to the gas station in Gaskill – first.  As she opened her door and stepped out of her car a feeling of triumph overcame her.  Instead of going inside with the others, she leaned against her car door and waited for others to arrive.  Scott pulled up in his truck five minutes later.  He pulled his truck along the side of the road, like Anna had, in front of her.

“Glad to see you finally made it.” Anna called out to Scott as he got out of his truck.

Scott didn’t respond.  He just glared at Anna and walked around the front of his truck, away from Anna, and into the gas station.
Anna felt like she had been stabbed.  She wasn’t normally that arrogant or smug.  Why did she act that way towards him?

“Great.  Now he’ll never like me and no one else will either,” Anna thought.  She knew she would be doomed to exile if she couldn’t find some way to get along with Scott.  He did seem to be the top dog in the group.

Embarrassed with herself, Anna got into her car and waited for everyone to come back.  For the rest of the drive she stayed dutifully at the end of the caravan of cars.

Eventually they turned off the highway and ascended the final dirt road toward the camp.  Anna got the feeling of having a rock deep in her stomach.  She was excited and nervous.  She knew that she could either love it here or wish she could go home.  It was a bit of a comfort knowing that she could drive herself if it got bad.

So, I started writing that novel – you know, that one I’ve been meaning to write since I was 18.  I actually have started it several times and have worked on it sporatically.  Well, I decided that if I was going to actually keep working on it, then I would have to do something about it.  You know – make me accountable.

So I’ll be posting individual chapters on the blog.  I would love any feedback, but understand if you just skip these posts.  If you would like to read chapter one, here is the link.  Or you can use the menu at the top.  Enjoy!

Chapter 1

——————

Chapter 2

“Is Scott driving today?”

“I bet he is and I’m riding in the front.  Preferably in the middle.”  A chorus of giggles erupted from the circle of girls.

“Sharon you are so bad.  Do you think Scott will date you this year?” asked a tall blond.

With a glint in her blue eyes, Sharon responded, “I’m going to do everything in my power to encourage it.  Jessica isn’t coming back this year, so as far as I’m concerned he is free and clear.”

“Think you’ll have any competition from the new girls,” asked a short, gymnast looking girl.  Just then the whole group scanned the others around them and looked right at Anna, who was studiously looking at her shoes pretending not to hear their conversation.

“Definitely not. Scott wouldn’t be interested in any of these girls.”

Anna whipped her head up and shot the girl named Sharon a dark look.

“Humph!  Who does she think she is?” responded Sharon loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Don’t worry about her.  Last summer Scott was totally flirting with you when Jessica wasn’t around.  And he was really friendly after the First Aid training meeting on Saturday.”

“Yeah, he was,” Sharon answered with a firm nod and turned away from Anna, forgetting about her.

Anna couldn’t believe that she dared to give anyone a dirty look and was afraid she had already made an enemy.  While she was thinking about how to make the situation better, a large black Ford F-150 pulled into the parking lot.  The windows were tinted, but Anna knew by the giggles, smiles, and shuffling that Scott must be the one driving.  On Saturday, Anna hadn’t noticed his hair, which was as black as his truck.  From across the parking lot she was struck by how dark it was and wondered why she didn’t notice earlier.

“Okay everyone, gather around,” bellowed Bill, the manager of the camp.  Anna wondered how a man that old, he had to be in his 60’s, could have the energy to do this every summer.  “Now who are our drivers? Raise your hands.”

Anna’s hand went up with Scott and three others.

“Okay now raise up how many other people you can take in your car, not including yourself and everyone find a place to ride.  Go,” Dave instructed.

Anna reluctantly held up three fingers.  Technically she could hold 4 if needed, but that would be really uncomfortable in her little car.  The group of girls from earlier had all surrounded Scott once he got there, so he truck was already full.  Everyone else’s cars filled up quickly while Anna was still waiting and holding up her three fingers.  It felt like gym class all over again; being chosen last for the team.  Anna’s face slowly turned more and more red.

“Why did I ever volunteer to drive,” thought Anna. “You wanted the freedom of having your own car and driving into town,” she reminded herself.  Although Anna was shy, she valued her independence too much to rely on other people.  She knew that she would probably want to get away on her days off and didn’t want to depend on other people.  What was left when everyone had chosen their rides were three quiet people, who looked just as lost as Anna felt.  Not wanting to let everyone know she was embarrassed by being chosen last Anna yelled to the left over people, “Come on! I hope you like loud music and speeding.”

“Hold on there Anna,” Bill said.  “Here are the maps. And we are all meeting at the gas station off Highway 34 in Gaskill.  The road to the camp is hard to find.”

“I’ll be there.  First!  Come on guys,” Anna ushered her bashful car mates into her car and shot Scott a daring look.

Scott yelled out to Anna just as she was getting in, “We’ll see about that in that little car of yours.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.  I’ll be waiting for you at the gas station,” Anna shouted as she started her car and took off before she even checked to see if everyone had their seat belts on.  Scott was stuck while his gaggle of girls had to arrange their seating with Sharon front and center, of course.

Last night I didn’t sleep.  No really.  I never fell asleep.  Finally around 4:30 I got up and started writing.  As I was writing, I noticed the sun coming up and my room getting lighter and lighter.  I thought I would go and watch the sun rise, while I wrote outside.  I wrote a whole series of haiku’s, which I will post on my haiku blog this week.  Here is the haiku that I am going to post for today.

Sunrise

Slowly the sun
grasps the mountain cliffs and peaks
over the valley.

(I like the double use of the word peaks – but I’m a word geek.)

Then I decided to take some photos.

This is the view at 5:30 am

Here is the view at 6:00 am

I like 5:30 am much, much better.  But I don’t plan on see that very often in my lifetime.

This summer, I have great plans to write.  I want to really start working on a book of poetry that I have in mind that I’m thinking I will self-publish.  Anyways . . . . I wrote a poem for my Grandpa Morris.  He died of cancer when I was 20 years old.  This is the only digital picture that I have of him and it isn’t a good one.  I scanned it in.

My Grandfather

died in hospice
doped up on morphine
to counteract the pain of
stomach-liver-lymphoid-intestinal-brain
cancer.
He was numb to the world around him
drooling on his pillow.

My father patiently
fed him ice from a cup,
waiting.
For that last breath
to leak out of his lungs.
For that last beat
to pump that last bit of blood.

Until eventually,
with the window open,
his spirit sat upon the wings of a dove
to the wide open
cloudless skies.

So, I’m counting my calories and watching what I’m eating, so naturally, I’m craving chocolate.  Lots and lots of chocolate.  I wrote this poem about chocolate in church yesterday (you’ll notice the religious references.)

____
Chocolate

Pure joy fills my nose
Scenting sweet with a touch of better
Whether dark, white, or milk,
Melted or molded
Mouth watering.
Confectionary heaven
I sing praises
Shout acclimations
Give gratitude
for a small coca bean.
Manna from heaven.
For me.
____

I hope you enjoyed that, now go have a piece of chocolate for me.

My students are working on haiku’s.  So, I had them tell me a subject to write on and I wrote a haiku for them.  Here they are in all their glory and silliness.

Sickness

Each day I hack and
Cough and snuffle the mucus
In my nose and throat

Cowboys

Chaps and hats, tight jeans
Riding broncos and bucking
Bulls. They are real men.

Sunset

She bows gracefully
At the end of the evening,
Welcoming the night.

Summit

Crowded halls. Strutting
Students mark territory
Like male dogs in heat.

Photography

Click of the shutter
Shift of the lens – focusing.
Artistic beauty.

Shoes

Patent leather with
Four inch heels raising me up
To over six feet.

The Ring

It has a wide band
With a single solitaire
One caret diamond.

Bills

They come every day
Except on Sundays and I
Let them pile on up.

Madness

Padded walls inside
My head, blocking the daylight
Of my clear thinking.

Happiness Is

Being my own boss.
Walking my own street. Going
Down my own pathways.

I was teaching my students a creative writing exercise where you try to visualize a person – what they look like, smell like, what they are wearing, and any memories.  I wrote about my mother’s father.  He is 96 years old.

Grandfather Nye

You are the silent statue
Who stares out the front window
Into the fields of alfalfa.

Your hearing has long left on the
Howling, bitter wind that sweeps through
The open spaces of Southern Idaho.

I remember the times I crawled
Into your bed and cuddled into your
Soap-smelling flannel shirts.

Waking with the dawn, you rose,
Like the sun – slow and steady
To hard work and a quite, content life

Full of bread and milk at meals
Dairy cows, raising calves, state fairs
Watching Lawrence Welk on Saturday nights.

And so, I sit with you at the window
Holding your wrinkled, sun-spotted hand
And gaze out in peace at the wide world of the past.

I love this photo!  Mid – Shave.

Me and Grandpa sitting on the couch with my cousin’s son, his great-grandson.  The window I speak of in the poem in to the left.  It is a huge window that spans the entire wall.