How old am I? Clearly not old enough to wake up from a dream at 4:00 AM and be so scared that I have to turn the light on to fall back asleep. No really. In my defense, there was a tiny man in a perfectly tailored suit and many Latvian women with black circles covering their eyes. NORMAL.
I've actually remembered my dreams from the past few nights. I'm not sure if this is because I've been making the conscious effort to not fall asleep to Netflix (it's so easy when you're a single cat lady!), or because I've actually been getting enough sleep. Granted, it's easier to get out of bed in the morning now that it's above freezing and my comforter feels more like an X-Ray blanket than a cozy haven. Ain't nobody got time for that!
The weather is finally catching up with my brain and body's need for spring. We know I love winter and seeing middle aged men in spandex, but after Audrey and I Glided the Divide (insert euphemism giggle here), I was pretty much done. In fact, I don't think I skied any more after that race. Coming back to seventy degrees in Boulder is such a mind bender that I just had to wrap myself around my two-wheeled steed and head boop Lando.
A wise Egan once told me, "Wake up, you can sleep in September!" That has continued to echo through my brain every summer since we put on a talent show in a garage. Why sleep when the weather is perfect and you have friends and trails and bicycles and beer? I feel like I'm finally becoming the badass I've always wanted to be. Running fast, riding a lot, meeting new people, and not wasting youth on my young age. My grit and focus are finally catching up, and my urges to shit around doing nothing are few and far between.
Here's to a great weekend in Moab and the impending end of school. Fare the well friends.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
Here and There
I can feel the sweat of this summer on my skin
Those sticky nights, that sticky floor.
The vegetables running through our fingers to the
chopping board
Just a taste here and there
-of the seeds
-of your lips
Your eyes gleaming with a hand under my ribs
Waiting for the twirl of the knife, followed by my dress
Prancing delicately, barefoot across the warped wood
Waiting for the scratchy sounds to emerge
With the diffused elegance of a coastal sunrise
Beating through my veins, my bones, my skin, thick
with joy and melancholy
And a little bit of color
Those sticky nights, that sticky floor.
The vegetables running through our fingers to the
chopping board
Just a taste here and there
-of the seeds
-of your lips
Your eyes gleaming with a hand under my ribs
Waiting for the twirl of the knife, followed by my dress
Prancing delicately, barefoot across the warped wood
Waiting for the scratchy sounds to emerge
With the diffused elegance of a coastal sunrise
Beating through my veins, my bones, my skin, thick
with joy and melancholy
And a little bit of color
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Wear Your Deodorant
Middle schoolers never cease to amaze me. Don't be fooled, it's not always good amazement. You'd be amazed at how often I have to tell them to keep their hands to themselves. Add in emergency bathroom trips, and you've basically got a kindergartener.
But sometimes the stars align, and they eat their Wheaties in the morning, and everything is wonderful. Today was one of those days. Rewind a little...
I have been kicking myself for possibly over-programming our spring concert. I chose pieces that I knew we could play well (given that they actually practice, god forbid), but it has proved to be more of a reach than I thought. Luckily I love make students responsible for themselves, so I gave them important sections to practice and told them that I'd have them play solo in front of the whole band to see how they sounded. Nothing will make a middle schooler cringe like being put on the spot in front of a room full of their peers. But it will also light a fire under their ass and get them to take their instrument home like they should have been doing all year. I don't know why I didn't start this in September. Second year band director probz.
ANYWAY, they've sounded pretty crappy the past few weeks. I only say that because I know what they are capable of sounding like, and recently they've played like underwater zombies talking to Jar Jar Binks. Not good.
Until today.
I don't know if it was the incessant beeping of the metronome, my side ponytail, or the fact that our air conditioning finally works (try directing a band in a windowless 75 degree room...death), BUT HOLY SHIT DID THEY SOUND GOOD. And they didn't even waste 837487457383 years talking during transitions. I think I literally fell into unicorn sparkles. After nitpicking our first piece (an arrangement of Ravel's Pavane), we YOLO'd and played the whole thing. And I just stood there with tears welling up in my eyes because they sounded incredible.
And the best part was, when we finished, they knew they sounded good too. You could see it in their faces. It doesn't matter if the teacher is pleased, the students need to be happy with their playing too. And that makes everything worth it. Especially when 35 middle schoolers with noisemakers recognize that they have created something beautiful.
In that moment, I didn't even care that they didn't exaggerate their pianos and hairpin dynamics. There's always time to work on that tomorrow. I've found it's really important to take some time and step back from woodshedding and jumping around from piece to piece, and just let them play. Because that's why they signed up for band in the first place.
But sometimes the stars align, and they eat their Wheaties in the morning, and everything is wonderful. Today was one of those days. Rewind a little...
I have been kicking myself for possibly over-programming our spring concert. I chose pieces that I knew we could play well (given that they actually practice, god forbid), but it has proved to be more of a reach than I thought. Luckily I love make students responsible for themselves, so I gave them important sections to practice and told them that I'd have them play solo in front of the whole band to see how they sounded. Nothing will make a middle schooler cringe like being put on the spot in front of a room full of their peers. But it will also light a fire under their ass and get them to take their instrument home like they should have been doing all year. I don't know why I didn't start this in September. Second year band director probz.
ANYWAY, they've sounded pretty crappy the past few weeks. I only say that because I know what they are capable of sounding like, and recently they've played like underwater zombies talking to Jar Jar Binks. Not good.
Until today.
I don't know if it was the incessant beeping of the metronome, my side ponytail, or the fact that our air conditioning finally works (try directing a band in a windowless 75 degree room...death), BUT HOLY SHIT DID THEY SOUND GOOD. And they didn't even waste 837487457383 years talking during transitions. I think I literally fell into unicorn sparkles. After nitpicking our first piece (an arrangement of Ravel's Pavane), we YOLO'd and played the whole thing. And I just stood there with tears welling up in my eyes because they sounded incredible.
And the best part was, when we finished, they knew they sounded good too. You could see it in their faces. It doesn't matter if the teacher is pleased, the students need to be happy with their playing too. And that makes everything worth it. Especially when 35 middle schoolers with noisemakers recognize that they have created something beautiful.
In that moment, I didn't even care that they didn't exaggerate their pianos and hairpin dynamics. There's always time to work on that tomorrow. I've found it's really important to take some time and step back from woodshedding and jumping around from piece to piece, and just let them play. Because that's why they signed up for band in the first place.
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