tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-363817122024-03-14T04:25:54.959-05:00the [sometimes] coherent ramblings of o....so, this is my life. and i want you to know that i am both happy and sad and i'm still trying to figure out how that could be....oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-42997143083372577772009-03-24T15:39:00.002-05:002009-03-24T15:39:44.460-05:00new york cityi got lost here this weekend. <br />i. love. it.<br />my heart is full; mu cup runneth over.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-62207039960505039792008-12-04T22:22:00.002-06:002008-12-04T22:25:55.051-06:00d(an)ceif i had my own dance class , i would have two rules:<br /><br />1. no cell phones<br />2. proper dance attire (no jeans, no flip flops)oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-27783651466726179942008-11-18T21:33:00.003-06:002008-11-18T21:35:17.167-06:00i drive in the HOV lane every morning.<br />those things are so overrated.<br />what are they for? to reward those who carpool and, thus, "decrease" pollution?<br />it's bull; therefore, i drive in the HOV lane every morning.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-88867166567357249772008-10-06T18:12:00.004-05:002008-10-06T18:14:28.148-05:00Dear Rachel,the only reason i've added a new blog is because i know you were looking for it. you're welcome. thanks for being my one audience member. let's talk books soon and very soon. i bought a new toni morrison book--<span style="font-style: italic;">jazz.</span> want to read it with me?<br /><br />your friend,<br />olivia (ms. carter)oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-22092163235583088452008-10-02T22:46:00.003-05:002008-10-02T22:48:16.468-05:00life [go]als1) go back to school: i miss being a student.<br />options: mtsu- masters in english; vanderbilt- masters in creative writing<br />HOW ABOUT BOTH???? i think yes. i have to take the GRE first and score high enough to impress vanderbilt. i can do it.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-80466124944388803052008-05-30T02:47:00.001-05:002008-05-30T02:48:13.304-05:00a dis[cove]ryi realized last night while watching <span style="font-style: italic;">prince caspian</span> that i have a crush on mr. tummus. i genuinely missed his presence.<br />p.s. go see the movie. so good.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-92101945475624817132008-05-13T00:09:00.002-05:002008-05-13T00:14:01.545-05:00la muertemy best friend's grandmother passed away on saturday. she flew in from d.c. this morning to attend the visitation and funeral; therefore, i opted to drive to carthage for the afternoon/evening in order to spend some much needed time (it's been two months!!) with her at the funeral home. what a lovely evening it was. we shared tears, laughter, secrets, smiles, hugs, advice, etc. all in just a few short hours. <br />her dad said something lovely about his mother who had just passed away that i want to remember forever:<br />"i am sad that she could not live forever with a good quality of life. but that is selfish."<br />that's all.<br />pray for jen and her family. i always pray that the hurting person is granted the ability to grieve fully. that is important. it's part of living and growing. grief kills. then all we can do is be born again. growth is good.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-1761891218789422392008-04-18T00:51:00.000-05:002008-04-18T00:52:23.442-05:00me: i like you.<br />him: i like all of you. every corner.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-29825408251935390262008-04-13T17:13:00.000-05:002008-04-13T17:15:26.309-05:00con[un]drum<p>Something always brings me back to you.<br />It never takes too long.<br />No matter what I say or do I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.</p> <p>You hold me without touch.<br />You keep me without chains.<br />I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.</p> <p>[CHORUS]<br />Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.<br />Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be.<br />But you’re on to me and all over me.</p> <p>You loved me ’cause I’m fragile.<br />When I thought that I was strong.<br />But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.</p> <p>[CHORUS]<br />Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.<br />Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be.<br />But you’re on to me and all over me. </p><p>I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you’re everything I think I need here on<br />The ground.<br />But you’re neither friend nor foe though I can’t seem to let you go.<br />The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down</p><p>Your keeping me down,<br />Your on to me, your on to me and all over<br />Something always brings me back to you<br />It never takes to long…</p>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-37633970542426348002008-02-07T13:45:00.000-06:002008-02-07T13:52:17.355-06:00tornadic activityso there was quite at uproar over some dangerous, deadly, and destructive tornado activity the other night. houses and lives uprooted and thrown across the field. belongings. memories. emotions. buried in the rubble.<br />so i thought...what material possessions of mine would hurt me to lose?<br />my books. <br /><br />disclaimer: i am a nerd. not only do i know this. i accept it and revel in it.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-42184595536727197962008-01-21T15:50:00.000-06:002008-01-21T15:55:29.295-06:00rest"it was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased..."<br />i feel like this oftenoliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-40167271676237700372007-12-10T22:26:00.000-06:002007-12-10T22:41:01.696-06:00to my kids at central....we are having a poetry coffee house over the next couple of days. the kids write original poems and "perform" them (some want to sing and some want to rap). i promised them that i would write a poem. so after spending time with some of them tonight at a basketball game, this is what happened:<br /><div style="text-align: center;">I like change.<br />I always have.<br />New places<br />New people<br />New sights<br />New emotions<br />Experiences<br />Lessons [will be] learned<br />But I can’t deny the sense of deflation I feel<br />When leaving those or that<br />Whom or which I love.<br />No words.<br />Tears yes.<br />No words.<br />But I will say this:<br />Thank you.<br />I will never forget any of you.<br />In Spanish: Le quiero:<br />I care a lot.<br />Gracias.<br /></div>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-14618447962907433792007-12-07T23:15:00.000-06:002007-12-08T14:09:28.341-06:00noticiasso i got a job. i have a salary. i am a teacher.<br />i am teaching sophomore honors english.<br />several emotions.<br />elated.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-72792516480095560442007-12-03T23:10:00.000-06:002007-12-03T23:20:30.361-06:00hecho<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLq5h1_g0-9__UL-2s5lE4elAcDTGjjxv2zRnpZeH3sb_CQotBVfrNul2AohLnqUhT2WdknhMUgvjaVk-o6YlJf6gsBznqgv_uY5mL25aKare2SY8J63smzDZTPJjFbMMbFjHRA/s1600-r/CIMG2090.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe17IIQx7ihP0HsG9MRHWasiZDXAl1XMneafEKtxDWGJEK19m8C_Q4vTrgrOqFVLx4n4AKExTvm1JpY-rQSTgBYZm6lU22rTmqMY_JYoWD0AhcXIyBPyd32wViWSgRvGbVZYyGWw/s320/CIMG2090.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139982334661979010" border="0" /></a><br />i have siete days left with my kids at central, and in all honesty, i think my heart might shatter. i'm trying to hang on to every bit of time that i have left with them. why did i have to go and fall in love with them?oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-79015544144650520492007-11-19T22:39:00.001-06:002007-11-27T22:55:52.616-06:00unin[hi]bited<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0-UaycZGmMPm66Zl_s5Ne3-SvqXpoIRzdXhqyQ6wNKm9pY0lw9E9BIst2Gbg1fd8g0Zqi6Oyo833yC8YbV9SHmQKMIPV1LiHgDI4aawMXIyPsLgpf2ffjjqeBBNUdw8I1bsW7Q/s1600-h/CIMG2092.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG0-UaycZGmMPm66Zl_s5Ne3-SvqXpoIRzdXhqyQ6wNKm9pY0lw9E9BIst2Gbg1fd8g0Zqi6Oyo833yC8YbV9SHmQKMIPV1LiHgDI4aawMXIyPsLgpf2ffjjqeBBNUdw8I1bsW7Q/s320/CIMG2092.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134777914354217634" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdCbOMdP9u6CILXD6yYB2djzgn9DHx3lKbaj0-R1HFpQwRuol9VU8DFrA1KCqeG5kdQ1gcbks5ZD37J5vvjo431wllq22t5fmdHYM7iDiaPBQvFWs2_sIWMiFlTyLjm5yPo9aFA/s1600-h/CIMG2095.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdCbOMdP9u6CILXD6yYB2djzgn9DHx3lKbaj0-R1HFpQwRuol9VU8DFrA1KCqeG5kdQ1gcbks5ZD37J5vvjo431wllq22t5fmdHYM7iDiaPBQvFWs2_sIWMiFlTyLjm5yPo9aFA/s320/CIMG2095.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134781131284722402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuJG0SVt9CvyAFtGyZZPDzp948Y7JtWTUfbYlt3vfbPIy82q27m2cSzSrGaPzNdrRdOZbgNL7Foc5Dj1rYKmi5NMs2jgkQX2s6R7ZiwWqNhOUbrlemJCM6-UbXiada8NyLT2zZQ/s1600-h/CIMG2093.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNuJG0SVt9CvyAFtGyZZPDzp948Y7JtWTUfbYlt3vfbPIy82q27m2cSzSrGaPzNdrRdOZbgNL7Foc5Dj1rYKmi5NMs2jgkQX2s6R7ZiwWqNhOUbrlemJCM6-UbXiada8NyLT2zZQ/s320/CIMG2093.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134778253656634034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iYdInokjaWsFGDFDw1fZaDnsmaFuBTM8i9S9SRTHt4BN9gzPDvEmMuMJL6yujb4p518ZggYNlA-yREsA_ZY3e88Lg7OcviRHlUgli9LfUnYS7pUlSByh7StfBdEh8giHGF57Ng/s1600-h/CIMG2094.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7iYdInokjaWsFGDFDw1fZaDnsmaFuBTM8i9S9SRTHt4BN9gzPDvEmMuMJL6yujb4p518ZggYNlA-yREsA_ZY3e88Lg7OcviRHlUgli9LfUnYS7pUlSByh7StfBdEh8giHGF57Ng/s320/CIMG2094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134779426182705874" border="0" /></a><br /><br />a close friend of mine sent me a message from chicago one summer day that read: "i want to be the man who is free enough to sing loud gospel music along with his discman with his eyes closed. on the train. alone. "<br /><br />unhibited.<br />she [above] did. in the middle of opryland hotel. she found a piano. sat down. and sang. it was beautiful.<br /><br />"sing with your head up.<br />with your eyes closed.<br />not because you love the song.<br />because you love to sing...."oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-17030409734945497922007-11-05T22:18:00.000-06:002007-11-05T22:21:03.608-06:00twice in one da(y)i found this. honestly, i love this. i remember this night so clearly. written on july 25, 2006 [while in mexico]....<br /><br /><p>im in the mood to either read and get lost in another world or write and make up my own.</p><br /><br /><p>got a massive effin paper cut today...by massive i mean this one might need stitches.</p><br /><br /><p>went to the pyramids today and climbed one. by climbing i mean walked up 236 stairs. yes, that is the accurate number. no, my obsessive complulsive mind did not click on and count...alexis did...A: dos cientos treinta y seis..como se dice, oli? O: en ingles? A: si O: 236</p><br /><br /><p>keiry (prounounced katey)-the two year old- kicked me today because she was mad that i took the roll of double-sided tape from her (thats how i got the paper cut). then her mom smacked her hand.</p><br /><br /><p>i realize that i listen to my ipod when i most need to escape what is happening around me.</p><br /><br /><p>i usually hold on to my wadded up napkin for at least 15 min after i eat. it must be some sort of security for me.</p><br /><br /><p>i find myself really wanting to buy a book of poetry by nikki giovanni. if you dont know any of her stuff...FIND IT AND READ IT. shes amazing.</p><br /><br /><p>you know your in a foreign country when your excited about eating pizza.</p><br /><br /><p>i played a game on facebook today. i clicked on a friend from high school, then kept clicking on mutual friends. its cool to see where everyone is.</p><br /><br /><p>i cant wait for classes to start back. i really want to dive into a new english class. this semester its shakespeare and then some.</p><br /><br /><p>decorating for vbs tomorrow. will get to see some familar people. </p><br /><br /><p>my mind is as full as a ticks swollen body right now. its not fun. i think it might pop at any moment...</p><br /><br /><p>hence the reason to get lost elsewhere</p><br /><p>ciao.<br /></p>[nos vemos]oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-86707644515067673322007-11-05T22:09:00.001-06:002007-11-05T22:12:41.537-06:00untit[led]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOAyKt42Y7Q7x-20nLHVD0Xd3HmRWWRB7k8eqALnBDNj35BzWtwB4P_4mh2WLe42hGpx8i4_WRDPRuHVmTn88B6fd8Quihv6DWHDOCJqzIA7k2VOqZWqh5BfLavKbrM-MS-uE8g/s1600-h/CIMG1939.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOAyKt42Y7Q7x-20nLHVD0Xd3HmRWWRB7k8eqALnBDNj35BzWtwB4P_4mh2WLe42hGpx8i4_WRDPRuHVmTn88B6fd8Quihv6DWHDOCJqzIA7k2VOqZWqh5BfLavKbrM-MS-uE8g/s320/CIMG1939.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129575293565340898" border="0" /></a><br /><br />yes, please.<br />sí, por favor.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-44525525444502715752007-10-28T18:17:00.000-05:002007-10-28T18:29:52.264-05:00sacrifice?<div style="text-align: justify;">"people talk of the sacrifice i have made in spending so much of my life in africa. can that be called a sacrifice which is simply paid back as a small part of a great debt owing to our God, which we can never repay? is that a sacrifice which brings its own blest reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny hereafter? away with the word in such a view and with such a thought! it is emphatically no sacrifice. say rather it is a privilege. anxiety, sickness, suffering, or danger now and then with a foregoing of the common conveniences and charites of this life, may make us only be for a moment. all these are nothing when compared with the glory which shall be revealed in and for us. <span style="font-style: italic;">i never made a sacrifice.</span>"<div style="text-align: right;">david livingstone<br /><div style="text-align: left;">(given to me by a close friend to read while in china)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYlrVHsz62kvoyjJudmGagtgvAxJee5hrOzwinugjuQB9aYMzf9glS2gtVtDr-c72RKVARew_XhYpgm0zLscfTTxvCGneYyrriPx8itBPtgJex8iI7YpzhTxvyIaX77KXjP2fzw/s1600-h/HPIM1676_102.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYlrVHsz62kvoyjJudmGagtgvAxJee5hrOzwinugjuQB9aYMzf9glS2gtVtDr-c72RKVARew_XhYpgm0zLscfTTxvCGneYyrriPx8itBPtgJex8iI7YpzhTxvyIaX77KXjP2fzw/s320/HPIM1676_102.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126533713690430658" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /></div></div></div>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-33284946765650349292007-10-20T21:39:00.000-05:002007-10-20T21:41:52.363-05:00just some thoughts....i remember telling someone one time that there is a difference between a companion and a friend. in my opinion the word friend in the english language is obsolete. society has taken the meaning of friend and degraded it. these days a friend is someone you meet online. someone with similar likes and dislikes. a friend wishes you happy birthday on your facebook wall. the end. there’s nothing more to it than that. <br />but a companion. a companion is someone who accompanies you. an accompaniment. someone who walks beside you. someone who plays the music while you sing. another soul with which to mingle. a companion is not about likes and dislikes. a companion is about the other person. a companion listens rather than talks. a companion doesn’t move you down the list of her priorities. a companion knows your soul. a companion cries too. a companion misses you. a companion knows and allows you to know in return.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-57897660161682168822007-10-16T21:54:00.000-05:002007-10-16T23:34:26.404-05:00i like trees....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQu7ixvS7GWuQuhIMH8-rG_ZnqbP6xGncqv452cODHeHBusn2mdWvc99qRc7SVc5g_wRH1HsGBdA4nOzKNAk_H-o8byDr5N8imtX-XSNfnbJJFkJJCvLd_e4PMIaF4g8xuUGoo3A/s1600-h/CIMG0068.jpg"><img style="cursor: 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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7Qavc3r1wUOzZBA4yn77E5nKq3DFenx2rpwbc6aG6oxsgGule_Q4nIRVh1Sph2gUCvcBNJNRHiNUroxZifXFXTMmJ4kZ-Ok31F2gECOVfm3H-XQ-Nyn5YCSQ5MpprADBLokh4Q/s320/CIMG0377.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122140300520634194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXV6DE8xT-z1QD-l7oPLrvt5dHW7T8Xe4KfwqHG1Wzc9qUYfE82564EjwmL6mimXAFlRxuioYSDGXz4N_DAZ000nsL9yEmNWeYOKWkiZFzrmSYqYf6K9tB-zB_1jvw19fLXnq_A/s1600-h/HPIM1705_112.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXV6DE8xT-z1QD-l7oPLrvt5dHW7T8Xe4KfwqHG1Wzc9qUYfE82564EjwmL6mimXAFlRxuioYSDGXz4N_DAZ000nsL9yEmNWeYOKWkiZFzrmSYqYf6K9tB-zB_1jvw19fLXnq_A/s320/HPIM1705_112.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122138745742472994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuWZp_AZ8cVs-EiSzGOxoKI6kEVEVq411XGRNLUBbNWUM4NCAYFcmNGSOITAV323ToaJnXwNSo6Px-2ZV0uqKh7m8N_Hrv_HlTd9bK3-aeW86GyYuSz3vmp4MrNEc2RczdssaIQ/s1600-h/100_0553.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuWZp_AZ8cVs-EiSzGOxoKI6kEVEVq411XGRNLUBbNWUM4NCAYFcmNGSOITAV323ToaJnXwNSo6Px-2ZV0uqKh7m8N_Hrv_HlTd9bK3-aeW86GyYuSz3vmp4MrNEc2RczdssaIQ/s320/100_0553.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122137976943326994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvtrHX25fAfvk1aSYfNHji_FE4OmMUTiBQgfxo_nWYl9DMhoRNBUUnJeBQzJj27_5qqjEs_KMgp9zelYPWpNjzIO8VwDLwOKWzUbBb2Jwg-Bw8tnWfFkO0O7kK62egtH6VZrWXnQ/s1600-h/CIMG2083.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvtrHX25fAfvk1aSYfNHji_FE4OmMUTiBQgfxo_nWYl9DMhoRNBUUnJeBQzJj27_5qqjEs_KMgp9zelYPWpNjzIO8VwDLwOKWzUbBb2Jwg-Bw8tnWfFkO0O7kK62egtH6VZrWXnQ/s320/CIMG2083.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122135558876739298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So was I once myself a swinger of birches;<br />And so I dream of going back to be.<br />It's when I'm weary of considerations,<br />And life is too much like a pathless wood 45<br />Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs<br />Broken across it, and one eye is weeping<br />From a twig's having lashed across it open.<br />I'd like to get away from earth awhile<br />And then come back to it and begin over. 50<br />May no fate wilfully misunderstand me<br />And half grant what I wish and snatch me away<br />Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:<br />I don't know where it's likely to go better.<br />I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, 55<br />And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk<br />Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,<br />But dipped its top and set me down again.<br />That would be good both going and coming back.<br />One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. 60<br /><br />“birches”<br />robert frost<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;">*if you wish, you can make your own commentary....</div></div>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-11593894492448570282007-10-14T22:54:00.000-05:002007-10-14T22:59:40.619-05:00word of the dayfragileoliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-21483648314748686912007-10-02T16:38:00.000-05:002007-10-02T16:47:29.006-05:00ignorance is...<div style="text-align: justify;">Ignorance is bliss. Not knowing is effortless. Lack of knowledge is mundane, ordinary, and commonplace. Ignorance is [only] bliss [because there is no accountability to act.]<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Ignorance is bliss because it is a burden to be aware. Awareness requires action. Sometimes I am too tired. Sometimes I have my own problems to deal with. Sometimes it takes me a while to care. Sometimes I don’t understand. Therefore, I would rather be ignorant so that there is no pressure to act. So that I am unbothered. Ignorance is bliss.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">But see sometimes I get it. Sometimes I am just afraid. Sometimes my worries overshadow the problems of the world. Sometimes I don’t know where to start. Sometimes I feel inadequate. <br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Who in the world am I to help rescue women and children from sex trafficking? But my Spanish is not good enough to translate for someone in need. How can I teach the English language? How can my writing ever be good enough? How do I completely change my lifestyle and attitude toward food? I don’t understand. I can’t afford it. I can’t do it. I give up. This burden is too great.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The burden is so heavy. I can’t give up, though. Ignorance is ordinary, and God does not call me to a life of being ordinary. I will not be ordinary. Bliss is giving until I can’t give any longer. Bliss is meeting the needs of others. Bliss is acting out in order to shine light on and bring justice to a hellacious situation. <br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Ignorance lacks accountability. Ignorance lacks life. Light. Bliss. Challenge. Love. Faith. Hope. Grace.<br />Ignorance is not bliss.<br />Ignorance is hell.<br />Ignorance is a lie.<br /></div>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-2565444320471889492007-09-25T16:52:00.000-05:002007-09-25T21:55:58.914-05:00la escuelai am almost afraid to start this blog because i have so much that i want to say, but i'm so afraid that i'm going to botch it up. that maybe you won't understand. that maybe the emotions will be too much? is this even possible?<br />i am in my fifth week of student teaching, and my 2nd week of having them to myself. and i think that i am falling in love.<br />i didn't think that i could do this. i thought that it was an impossible feat. but i've done it. i've gotten in. i'm teaching and, in turn, learning so much more than i thought i would.<br />here are some things that i have learned/am learning/am beginning to learn:<br />1) how to love unconditionally. love has nothing to do with one's ability to do.<br />2) how to give of myself when there seems that there is nothing left to give.<br />3) how to be responsible.<br />4) how to be respectful even in the face of disrespect.<br />5) how to care and give and care and give and receive nothing in return.<br /><br />so i have deemed yesterday my "this is why i want to teach" day:<br />1) i got to share my heart (safely and adult-like) with a couple of my students by sharing my writing ability.<br />2) one girl came up to me after i made reference to her writing and asked me if i would like to read what she is writing. my heart screamed when this happened.<br />3) chris, one of my jocks, invited me to his jv football game and made it clear to look for him, #20. he was as excited as a sophomore football player can be.<br /><br />that's it. i think. i mean, not really. of course there is more. there is going to be more. but this is enough for right now. i just really needed to get it out! i haven't been able to talk to many people about it.<br />thanks for listening.oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-35749539704550166242007-09-10T21:27:00.000-05:002007-09-10T21:38:31.104-05:00puzzles...i was never the kid that asked my mother if i could please play with a puzzle. i don't even remember owning a puzzle. ah. whatever. they were entertaining enough. but when i could no longer see the big picture for the millions of small cut-outs, i gave up. <br />i mean, seriously, that does work sometimes. some people say, quitters never win. sure, maybe. but i think, if you don't want to finish, then don't finish. so you walk away.<br />but sometimes, only sometimes, you come across a puzzle that is truly worth finishing. seriously my roommates and all the guys had this huge 10,000 (hello, hyperbole?) piece puzzle one time that took MONTHS to finish. but a little bit at a time, and it was complete. <br />so my puzzle?<br />education.<br />there are so many unfitting, jagged edges that are playing against me right now. when i'm sitting in the classroom observing, i think, what the hell am i doing? these kids sure don't care. why should i? but then, when away from the classroom, i am beating my brains out trying to think of ways to get through to these kids. it is a true puzzle. <br />i'm pretty sure i can do this. maybe i'm an idealist living in the world of mona lisa smile and dead poet's society, but i'm pretty sure i can do this. i think that i can find the missing piece. i hope so, anyway. <br />see, student teaching is way more than making the grade. it's about finding a way into the hearts of these kids and finding what it is that makes their hearts beat. i'm going to do it...but i struggle with whether or not i am up for it...can i handle it?<br />what if they don't let me in? <br />what if i try so hard and then decide that i don't want in?<br />what if it requires more than i am capable of giving?oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36381712.post-52236416105883778932007-08-30T20:32:00.000-05:002007-08-30T21:56:34.358-05:00descansar<span style="font-family:times new roman;">i've had difficulty resting lately. i think that maybe rest is a byproduct of comfort. or maybe comfort is of rest. either way, they go hand in hand. yeah? no?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">i think that maybe i'm not resting because i'm not comfortable.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">i don't really know where i belong. i'm in such an awkward time of life. done with school but not really. not a student not an adult. lonely but nowhere to be. no idea. none. just checking off my list? just meeting requirements? </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">i guess.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">qué será será....</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdftKLRUgPjBJEldT_HpGoPFs9xeBe52IEagBNk6CO1Xwgg6S2zh16ClpLIp3_rs1N1omrmolBh3DvUnfZGrrUsg_Ip98fw6Q9alhQtcK_HiMJUwlusEhJf08Zm1t9kcRuYwEbg/s1600-h/oliv.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXdftKLRUgPjBJEldT_HpGoPFs9xeBe52IEagBNk6CO1Xwgg6S2zh16ClpLIp3_rs1N1omrmolBh3DvUnfZGrrUsg_Ip98fw6Q9alhQtcK_HiMJUwlusEhJf08Zm1t9kcRuYwEbg/s320/oliv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104692525894077890" border="0" /></a>oliviahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02054926104379885874noreply@blogger.com1