PondererGirl

A fine line

ponderergirl — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 22:59:00 +0000

On my way to the nanny-of-the-century job I pass an elementary school which is advertising for bus drivers. I know, I thought the same thing when I saw it, thank the good Lord I don’t have that job. Except…

I have a great paying job with wonderful benefits all lined up to begin in October or November. I finish with the kids August 26. You see the dilemma. It gets bigger.

The job waiting in the wings for me is in the medical field for which I’m not completely unqualified, but I’m not the most outstanding candidate either. I don’t faint when I see blood and have been in a morgue or two so that helps. I have no doubt that I will do a spectacular job. I don’t have an official start date or hiring letter, but I’ve been told on more than one occasion that the job is mine. Beginning sometime in October or November. I’ll be trained as an interoperative monitoring technician. I didn’t know that existed either until my friend’s brother started doing it. The pay is great, the working hours are nothing to shake a stick at, and I don’t know about the benefits, but I’m guessing if I needed surgery I could get a discount since my last job offered me discounted burial plots and such.

What does this have to do with driving a bus, you ask? Well, it has everything to do with driving a bus. But mainly this: I don’t want another corporate job. I’ve never been a good corporate hack; my laugh is too loud for cubicles and I have no desire to climb a ladder unless Sven is at the top with grapes and cheese and such. What I want to do is write and tell stories. Travel and teach. I can do none of these things if I’m in the operating room. I think the patients and doctors might be a little miffed if I say, “Hang on, it’s just getting good over here” as I type paragraph after paragraph of fantastic prose while nerves die by the second because of my misplaced needles.

I know, your thinking is she dumb enough to give up a great paying job with benefits to be a bus driver? Can’t she write at night? Travel on the weekends? Is she really that dumb?

I don’t know. Well, yes, I do know. I am dumb enough to do it, but the question is really, am I brave enough to do it? That, I don’t know. It’s a fine line between dumb and brave and I don’t know where I stand.

30/365 Dr. C

ponderergirl — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 03:29:00 +0000

He was a shadow at 3am.
An Argentinean wind bringing soothing hands to swollen, infected knees.
Pain pills long lulled me to sleep.
But I remember the whisper, “You’re healing well, dream deep.”

WriteStory I

ponderergirl — Wed, 18 Jul 2007 03:48:00 +0000

I finally did it! I don’t know what is better; that I went and was inspired or what it was that inspired me. Let me preface by saying I don’t mean this flippantly or with any amount of disrespect. I went to my first writer’s group this week. Everyone was welcoming and kind. It is obvious they want each other to succeed.

How it played out. For an hour I listened to a self taught 65 year old woman with red Texas hair talk about epigenetics, quantum physics, mind over matter and how to win friends and influence people thus bringing about book deals and thinner bodies. Some of what she said I dismissed immediately either out of fear, disbelief or because I was distracted by watching the birds out the window through her hair. She did though mention lots of books that seem very interesting and made me wish I was a bus driver or something so I could spend more time reading. After she left we did our readings (I didn’t have to being new and all).

The two readings were chapters in fantasy novels. I haven’t read a fantasy novel since King Arthur and the Pips or something like that. I was sucked in and hope they read more next week. I also hope fantasy novels come with their own dictionary. And maybe a history lesson and some road maps.

So what inspired me, you ask? It was this. In two hours I met 18 or so wonderful people who are working towards their dreams. They are taking steps to make things happen and allowing others to join them on the journey. If I were writing a novel about a writers group I would be unable to create this cast. I didn’t meet all 18, but I did meet some. There was a 70 year old gossip, a 22′ish year old girl who looked 13, a practicing druid and an intersexual. (You’ll have to do your own research.) The gossip told me there is a 90+ year old couple in the group who was absent. The husband, 91, just published his first piece this year.

Oh yes! This is what I love about life. Put yourself out there, try something new and you can’t possibly imagine what is going to happen. Never in my life, as it is now, would I have met this cast of characters who already have taught me and challenged me. I admire them and am looking forward to meeting more people next week.

What made me finally decide to go? My favorite authors have been cajoling me through their writing to get out of my comfort zone, meet people who aren’t like me, who don’t subscribe to my beliefs and to meet the needs of others because this is what the Gospel is and this is how it gets shared with the outside world. In and not of. I decided to join some groups and do some service projects. Tomorrow I’m going to a storyteller’s guild. I dare not even try to imagine what that is going to be like, but I’m totally excited!

Considering Lilies

ponderergirl — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 22:49:00 +0000

It is the Sunday afternoon that feels like Sunday afternoon. By this I mean I can’t trick myself into thinking I’ve got more time before Monday peeks in my windows. Sometimes I can look at the weekend with pride having crossed off items on my to-do list, content to let the evening close with grace as the stars twinkle well done. Other times, around dusk, I’m searching desperately for something I can cling to as one last vestige of hope for the weekend, something I can do to make up for the time I wasted. I usually go into frantic cleaning mode, or bake up a storm. I didn’t necessarily waste time this weekend, but I’ve got that anxious Monday’s-a-comin’ feeling.

I think it has to do with dreams. Whenever I take steps towards becoming or doing what I want – good and purposeful things – I get anxious. I’m not sure what that’s about, well, I do to an extent, but it feels silly. I should be proud. Excited. Happy. I’ve been writing a lot. Working towards a specific piece with the goal of submitting it to be published. Instead I’m wringing my hands, plotting out a future I can’t possibly create or keep track of. Trying to determine if I move or stay or just switch places. Do I take the job or look for something else? Should I take the big risk or wait another year? It’s ridiculous really. Balancing a check book is difficult for me, managing to get my oil changed on time happens exactly never and yet I have the audacity to imagine I can plot the future, my future. Oye vei!

Several times while baking cookies (orange-chocolate chip) and shopping for things I “needed” I heard in my head “who can add a day to his life?” I knew the one-line disease (normally reserved for 80s song lyrics) had something to do with lilies and not worrying about the future. After all, life has a way of taking care of itself. I know this is true.

But honestly, I like to worry about my life. I like to toss things over in my head like a Caesar salad or Chinese stir-fry. I find it challenging to come up with ways that God can handle things. I like to remind Him who exactly I am. If you’d just… or Have you considered… and the ever popular What if… Yes, I am good at turning things over and over in my head until I know exactly what God should do. Of course I’m not I AM so it’s very silly and fruitless. It’s hard learning that lesson. Sometimes I wonder if I will let myself.

When I got home from purchasing my needs I sat on my balcony. I found the verses on replay in my head (Luke 12:22-34). I mulled them while looking at my Lily of the Nile (Agapanthus). The dead stalks are browning, ready to fall off making room for the new buds that have begun to open. Tender leaves are sprouting. This is what Christ meant. What is dead falls away and new life takes over. I can do nothing about either except participate in the watering, care and pruning. I cannot create. I cannot will it to grow more lush and full. I can water, care, and prune. It’s an ah-ha moment for me. I cannot create my life, my future. But, I can participate and leave it at that.

He’s smart; God is. Considering the lilies works.

29/365 E.G.

ponderergirl — Sun, 15 Jul 2007 16:22:00 +0000

On day 10 he proclaimed, “I hate missionaries!”
On day 217 I learned why.
On day 489 he relented, “What you did wasn’t so bad.”
On day 532 he was my biggest fan.

28/365 Diane S.

ponderergirl — Sat, 14 Jul 2007 17:08:00 +0000

On the dark side of the church she cursed me. Her venomous tongue striking hard then seeping deep. Flowers could not eradicate the wounds but forgiveness did.

Christ died for both of us.

This little piggy went wahh, wahh, wahh

ponderergirl — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 22:17:00 +0000

I broke my right pinky toe today.
It hurts.
I cried.

My TRY-athlon will not be thwarted though. I will prevail!
(In 6 to 8 weeks.)

27/365 Matt M.

ponderergirl — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 12:32:00 +0000

He was a mountain man with shoulders wide as the great divide, a heart to match. Stuck in the city running a bar he shuffles along now, listless by Phoenix heat and cacti.

26/365 Tom C.

ponderergirl — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 02:26:00 +0000

In a shack in Mexico he tried to make air conditioning with a fan and a block of ice. We laughed away the misery with his childhood stories and prayed for his mother.

25/365Pops

ponderergirl — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 03:36:00 +0000

Catch and release fisherman. Handy with the tools. More importantly he dove head first shoes and all into the river to teach Abby and Jake how to dive. That’s a Grandpa for you!