a walk in the woods.

It's when I'm walking alone in the mountains that I feel most alive. When I huff my way over the crest of a mountain to be greeted by the beauty of the endless ocean, beams of warmth cascading through the luscious clouds above, it is then that I transcend the bounds of being a mere human, and enter into the realm of spirituality. My soul is elated when I'm out there. There is no time constraint. There is no definitive end to the hike. There's just me. My lonesome feet lumbering along. My breaths collecting quips for later use in good company. My eyes lazily wandering over this serene and magical land I've fallen into. I am whole and happy in these moments.

Today was cold. Brisk might be a better word choice. I wore long pants and a hoodie for this hike. The mud on the trails was sticky from the recent rains. The green was like fresh paint on the hillside. Winter is good. Rain is good. Alone is good. What is presumed to be cold, dank, and dark is transformative in its execution. The rain comes. The cold sweeps over, blanketing with shivers. Irony in blankets. Leaves barren the trees. Cold seemingly strips warmth of its existence, when really cold provides home for warmth. A cavity for growth and resurrection. For darkness only serves to amplify light.

As I walked alone today, I contemplated. I thought about writing and where it fits into my life anymore. I was recently confronted, challenged, a fear was voiced. In pursuing a career in teaching, where does that leave my passion and commitment to writing. Should one take backseat to the other. Or can they both ride shotgun, with their triplet children travel, adventure, and marathon kickin' it in the backseat. There's a cliche'd road trip journey of life reference waiting to be hatched here but I'm leaving it in the incubator.

I love words. I love writing. I love kids and traveling, running and adventuring. Those things are all a part of me and in order for me to be healthy and whole, they will exercise their presence. The challenge you see, is to seek healthy and whole. Off to the mountains I go, for the solace I seek is tucked away, nestled in the silence of a lonely hike. For it's when I'm walking alone in the mountains that I feel most alive. 

newz as of late.

It's winter break and I haven't done anything notable aside from crochet 3 beanies and read a couple hundred pages of J.K. Rowling's new book. Gee, I'm interesting.

I've been sharing a bed with my 20 year old brother for the past 6 nights. Yeah, it's weird, but it was either that or the couch with the overweight pit bull. My house is still my home, but I don my vagrant hat and beg for a warm bed every time I arrive for a visit.

This time the warm bed came with it's own set of consequences. The first night it was a firm sock to the face. The next night it was an elbow to the forehead. The next, a knee to the backside. And last night, a knee to the crotch. Apparently my brother likes to play Mortal Kombat in his dreams. At least he didn't heed the "Finish her"s by violently ripping my head off. So I have that to be thankful for.

Bio dad and I tried to feed homeless people on Christmas day with hamburgers purchased via the $10 McDonalds gift card one of my first graders gave me. We were largely unsuccessful and I ended up eating 7 of the 10 burgers over the course of the last 3 days. Embarrassed doesn't even begin to describe these feelings inside me.

I got quite crafty over the few weeks before the break. Don't ask me how I did it because I'm not really sure. My creativity was stunted whilst in my last relationship so I think it flourished due to being stuffed in a box for so long. I was able to get all my assignments in for school and make pretty presents in the process. Call me the multi-tasking extraordinaire. Here are some photos for youz.

I've been a crocheting fiend for the past three days. This is just one of my finished pieces.

I made this for one of my housemates. His favorite quote. He freaked out. I love when I can make people happy with simple actions.

Personalized bookmarks and UCSB pencils for all my first graders. 

Hand-painted onesies for my very pregnant sister. 

An end of the trimester slideshow for my kiddies in first grade.

A tangled and messy rendition of love for my little cousin.

And a few magical little mix cd's for secret santa gifts.

I've been on a few runs this break and I'm itching to register for a race. But school is going to become a fierce and feral battle with my sanity very soon so I know another marathon just isn't in the cards for awhile. Bummer dude.

The new year is coming. The Mayans were mistaken and now I've gotta come up with some half-assed resolutions to carry with me as I cross the threshold into 2013. Ehh, I can't really be bothered to try and come up with some things I'm going to try and change that probably won't change so then I can just feel bad about myself. Away with the resolutions. I'm just gonna work on being present. As in, in the moment. Too often, I find myself texting, emailing, my fervid thoughts wandering when there is a reality right in front of me that's not getting enough attention. I call bullshit on this technology saturated abyss we've all fallen into. Put your phone away and look people in the eyes when you're talking to them. That's my resolution for the new year. To be authentic and present.

I'd also like to spend more time reading. There was a time when I used to read books. And by read books, I mean absorb the words and flick through pages until the very end. I used to lap up words. Letters would drip off my chin as I desperately tried to consume as many foreign lands as possible. I toppled into endless adventures as a means of escaping my own reality.

Then something happened. My library started to overwhelm me. I stopped eating holes through books like the worm that I was. I'd pick one up. Read 20 pages, max. And then set it back on the shelf with the scrap of receipt I'd chosen as a bookmark tucked inside. Over the past few years I've probably finished about 10 books. And that's counting the re-read of the Harry Potter saga that I did right before I started graduate school.

What's wrong with meee?

I have a novelish sort of ADD. I lose interest and move onto another without finishing the first.

Perhaps my reality is just far more interesting than what I can find inside of books. I mean, I do work with first graders. I don't know if you've been around one lately, but their childhood drama is pretty juicy. I'd give you an example but I've been sworn to secrecy.

I am consumed by 6-year-olds. This teaching program has got me studying them like rats in a cage. Their behaviors. Their words, actions, learning styles. How well they read and interact with one another. Their ability to self-monitor and refrain from calling out. How well can they sit in that square on the carpet. What lights them up and gets them engaged. What their family life is like and how well they're acquiring the English language. Can they color inside the lines and why are they so obsessed with smelly markers? Why do they keep confusing b's with d's and do they understand the concepts of print.

I love kids, but this sure is a whole 'nother level.

I submitted a crappy first chapter of my M.Ed. because I'd much rather just hang out with my kids and talk to them than sit behind a notepad documenting their every word and gesture.

They're adorable aren't they?

And I've recently come to terms with the fact that I have the memory of a dilapidated elderly woman. Something is wrong with me. Ginkgo Biloba where art thou?

I accidentally locked a sleeping baby in a bedroom while I was baby-sitting a couple weeks ago. I texted both parents at their company Christmas party. My message was frantic, as frantic as a text message can be. The dad called me to calm me down and tell me this happens all the time. I proceeded to do their sink full of dishes as atonement.

I'm no longer a vegetarian. That burger after my last marathon really did me in. I had jumped off the cliff. There would be no scrabbling back up to the top of the meatless mountain. It is finished.

Twas nice while it lasted.

When the winter break began, the placement in first grade ended. Come January, I will be student teaching in a fifth grade classroom. Twenty boys and eleven girls. Thirty-one ten year olds. That makes sixty two eyeballs  staring at me, waiting for me to make a mistake so they can lose respect and trample my ego. I've got a lot of prepping to do before I feel confident about the new chapter. Fifth grade content is far more complicated than first grade content. Fractions, you will be defeated!! Fifth grade history and social science, prepare to be known extensively. I will have all answers. For I am the teacher. And that's my job. 

Right?

Insert fun family Christmas photos here: