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Showing posts from March, 2013

Ugly - A Disease of the Mind

I have been doing  a lot of thinking since the post called The Looking Glass. I received what I consider to be an overwhelming response from people who read the post. I was both humbled and honored by people's kind thoughts and words. The responses came from friends and acquaintances of all shapes and sizes and backgrounds, yet what they said to me was resoundingly similar -  I had spoken out loud what they thought on the inside. I am ugly.

Ok, so not everyone was so dramatic, but the theme was I'm not happy with myself as I am. At first, this made me so sad.  I mean, I always think that I am capable of handling those nasty, hurtful thoughts that swirl around biting at my heart, I'm strong, I can deal with it.  But, listening to your voices brought tears to my eyes.  I know that it hurts, I've experienced it, I don't want anyone else to live out the same day after day personal torture.  The demand I place on myself to be a specific weight and look a certain way, and…

The Auburnhead Dairies - UPDATE

Dear all Faithful Readers,
So as to not take over The Dunamis Project, I have moved my serialized writing to a new blog set up for that purpose called Inkwell Treasures. The Auburnhead Dairies has moved to that blog site.
Thank you,
Jana

http://inkwelltreasures.blogspot.ca/

The Looking Glass

The hardest place for me to be, is in front of a mirror.  When I'm away from a mirror, I can turn on the deepest parts of my imagination, and no matter what I'm wearing, or what my hair looks like that day, I can imagine that I look pretty darn good. The truth of the matter is, that when I see myself in the mirror, I can't help judging what I see there.  Though I've been told by different people at different times in my life that I am attractive, it is very hard for me to see. The biggest battlefield has to be my weight.  Some time, at some point in high school, some person, whom I obviously considered to know more about these things than I did, told me I was fat, and I believed them.  In high school I was 160 pounds, today I'd love to go back there and kick whoever told me that in the bum. 

I remember believing that I was fat, and that my legs were so ugly that no one should have to see them.  I told everyone that I didn't like wearing shorts, and wore long pan…

Craving...

Do you know what I'm craving? That moment, that short, but sweet period of time when my brain lights up, comes alive, and transports me to the place where I am living the life of my own character, and the words flow from my fingertips like a flood I have difficulty containing.  Words spill all over the page, in great splashes of what to me, what feels like genius - because it comes so easily.  The craving doesn't stop there.  I crave that childlike happiness, how my children reach out and are eager to accept me as a part of their world, where everything is bright and colorful and full of laughter.  I could eat it up, soak in it, the laughter and delight in simple things.  I crave the quiet, romantic intimacy, security and joy my husband brings.  His gifts are logic and perspective, mine are dreams and passion.  I crave relationship with the God of the Angel Armies, an understanding of who I am, and what he has for me. I crave, I burn, I desire. But, I am a quiet sort and to lo…

Afraid of the Dark?

"My husband is having an affair." I could see the tears in her eyes and her face was etched in the pain of this horrible, heart-wrenching discovery.  My heart broke just looking at her, standing in her doorway, and me, a wordsmith at heart, incapable of offering any kind of words that would act as a salve for her pain.  I wanted to hug her, to cry with her, but I held back, unsure of what to do or say, or how to really process what she was saying to me - of all things, I didn't want to react in the wrong way. The compassion I felt was so overwhelming, I cried, standing there, myself. I have this naive idea that everyone's life somehow plays out like mine.  That everyone is as blessed as I am to be surrounded by a loving husband and home, and that the people out there aren't really hurting.  It's an easy mask to hide behind.

Of course, my thoughts turn inward toward myself, and in the same instant, the imagination that I hold as a blessing, acts as a curse.  Al…

So here I am...at 30

Ok, so I've been thirty for a few months now.  It's not like it was something that JUST happened, and I am getting over the trauma of it all.  Age doesn't really bother me, I don't think - but the mediocrity of life does tend to get to me.  Now, don't get me wrong, I am a wife and mother and I love that, I wouldn't trade it for all of the blessings in the world, but sometimes I sit back and wonder, what on earth made me choose the job that I chose?

I'm a teacher, and sometimes I think - I don't even like kids.  But, that could be only on the days where I felt like I sat for forty-five minutes in the middle of a cyclone I was trying to subdue into control with my magical powers, of which I have none - or I've forgotten how to use them.  I spend several hours a week dutifully typing notes for my Social Studies class, and just last week, one of the kids took the photocopied package from me and said, "You know we don't actually use these after …

The Lady Or the Tiger

When I look back to English class in high school, a couple stories stick out to me. I don't know why, and interestingly, it didn't happen for say...math class. But, one of my favorites was Frank Stockton's The Lady or the Tiger. I absolutely love it.It has beautiful, compelling language and imagery.  I love the moral dilemma created by the story and the fact that it takes a great deal of thought to work out a "happy" ending. Another reason I love it, is because the story doesn't end, which inevitably makes students fume, but it's an excellent way to have students work on an assignment that I think challenges creativity. I usually get a wide variance of answers, ranging from blood and death, to happiness and weddings. Anyway, I just recently gave this assignment to my grade 10/11 class, and they demanded that I too, answer the question posed by the story, Which is it, the Lady or the Tiger? 

THE LADY OR THE TIGER - by Frank Stockton is avaliable to be read …