The good news is that it’s a short week. The bad news is there are still two more days of it. I know I’ve been saying this for several weeks now, but seriously, this time it’s true: Next week, my schedule will be normal. I’ll only have to work ONE night, and I won’t be ready to fall asleep at every moment. Also, I’ll be able to go running and out to eat and stuff. Shoot, I might even go to the mall. It’s going to ROCK! I just have to get through tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow night and Friday morning. That’s it. Just five more classes.

AND even more good news: Apparently my copies have already come back! Hooray! That means I have materials to work with for a little while at least. I’ve got crossword puzzles and tests and writing exercises galore! I’m thinking about showing a film on Friday, though, and not using any of them. Any ideas? We talked all day today about food banks and where they get their supplies, so I was thinking of showing Food, Inc., but I don’t know. I’d need to have time to watch it and take notes before then so I could give them some questions to answer while they watch (to ensure that they pay attention).

I’d also have to figure out how to play it for them. Netflix instant play via projector onto white board? Blockbuster rental through DVD player onto TV? One-woman musical rendition? We’ll see.

I’m tired, y’all. I’d forgotten what teaching for four hours straight does to you. It’s not like doing any other job for four hours straight. It’s not physical exhaustion, and for me it’s not even really mental. It’s social. I have the same students for 20 hours a week. That’s a lot of face time, and if we don’t get along, that’s a lot of our waking time that’s unhappy.

Now, I usually don’t have problems getting along with my students, but what I do get is the pressure to make the class good according to 15 different people’s ideas of what makes a class good. It has to be challenging for those who read at a 7th grade level, but doable for those at a 5th grade level; fun while serious work gets done; interesting and appropriate for my class (which has rather specific guidelines for teaching). I can definitely give them serious work to do, but it’s the third day, and already I’m feeling the pressure to make it more fun. We worked with “A Boy Named Sue” today, and that was pretty fun. Now I just need more things like that. I can use TV shows, movies, songs, news stories, anything really. I just have to figure out how to incorporate it in the class and come up with appropriate activities to accompany it. I can’t just show a movie. There has to be a point to it.

I also need to think of ways to get them writing, doing research, giving presentations, etc. So I guess I’m a little mentally fatigued too. I need a brainstorming session. Anybody wanna come over this weekend and brainstorm with me?

I almost feel like I’ve snuck into Asheville, and now I’m getting ready to sneak back out. I finished up the semester tonight with no big fanfare or emotion. Just some certificates and paperwork and a couple of hugs. I loaded my books and my games into the trunk of my car, and I drove the 30 miles home for the last time. And what a relief that thought is! Seriously, y’all, I was not made for commuting. I can’t tell you how happy I am about driving 15 minutes to work through town instead of 30-35 minutes to work on the interstate.

Tomorrow will be different as I say good-bye to friends and see all my earthly possessions once again loaded up into the back of a truck, but I suppose I’ll deal with that then. For now, I’m going to aloe up my still-burnt legs and hit the hay, for tomorrow, the moving begins.

My brain is empty. There’s no activity whatsoever except for “Candle on the Water” playing as a sort of screen saver. My days are going something like this:

• Wake up.
• Sit on the couch.
• Apply aloe to crispy legs.
• Watch an episode of Pushing Daisies while I eat breakfast.
• Catch up on email/facebook/twitter.
• Shower.
• Be convinced to do something that is not writing (hang out, run errands, watch a movie, etc.)
• Watch Pushing Daisies while I eat lunch.
• Apply aloe to legs again.
• Write an article. Or not.
• Pack.
• Teach.
• Come home.
• Apply aloe.
• Go to bed.

On a positive note, I’m seriously almost completely packed. On a more daunting note, my things still have not multiplied, and I’m beginning to be concerned. I have a theory that it only multiplies under stress, and since I started packing so early, I’m not stressed about it, and therefore it shan’t multiply. But we’ll see. If my theory turns out to be correct, that means I’ll have to re-write the stages of moving (and also a handy guide to moving), but I’ll let you know how the rest of the week goes. For now, I’m going to watch one more episode of Pushing Daisies and go to bed (I’ve already applied my aloe).

It’s a good thing I’m not a people-pleaser, because I feel like I am constantly letting someone down with all my coming and going. I leave Raleigh, and people are sad. I go back to Raleigh, and people in Asheville threaten to lock me in a closet because they don’t want to lose me. I tell my students I won’t be back next semester, and they look at me with such disappointment that I honestly wonder if I’ll ever see them again. What’s the point of continuing a relationship (even a teacher-student one) that’s just going to end in two weeks?

It’s really sweet, and it’s flattering for sure, but it upsets me at the same time to know that my actions are upsetting to others. It’s like I can’t go anywhere without leaving a mark.

True story: I worked at Caswell in the summers of 1999 and 2000. In 2001, I went down for a weekend visit, and when I walked into the staff lounge, a guy I’d never seen before pointed at me all excitedly and said, “You’re Beth Parent! I want a massage later.” Because apparently word of my healing hands had gotten around the staff house.

That’s a silly example, but the dude knew my face, my first AND last name, and my hidden talent before I ever knew he existed, which means there was extensive discussion of me with accompanying photos before I arrived. This happens a lot, and that feels so weird to me because I’m just living my life, you know? I’m not doing anything spectacular except having a crap ton of fun, and yet somehow I am special to a lot of people.

I know it’s starting to sound like I’m complaining about how fabulous and popular I am, but that’s not it. It’s really quite humbling to think that I have this gift I’ve never really noticed or thought about before, and it’s just a part of who I am, but what do I do with it?

What does this ability to impact people require of me? There’s a great and weighty responsibility that comes with it, and I haven’t figured out yet how to carry it.

If I were a character in a story, after such a realization, I’d be at a point of decision. Where do I go from here? Given the experiences I’ve had and the things I’ve learned and become, how do I proceed? Everything up to this point has just been background and character development. And here is where the story actually begins, but what’s it about, what do I want, and why does any of it matter?

I want my life to count for something. I want to love people well and help those who need it, but I also want to really relish life and facilitate the fun and enjoyment of others. I look at some people’s lives, and I think, “My life is pointless. He’s digging wells by hand so villages in Africa can have water, and I’m writing a book called My Husband Ride Me.” But you know what? I love that I’m writing a book called My Husband Ride Me. I laugh out loud as I’m working on it, and I hope that one day dozens of other people will get to enjoy it the same way.

I don’t want to give up those quirky little things that make me the person everybody wants to have around. I just want to figure out how to use them better.

I want to live a life of such freedom and adventure that when my great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughters read about it, they think, “So that’s where I get it,” and feel free to be exactly who they are because they know they’re not abnormal for being adventuresome.

I want to live a life that awakens people’s imaginations as to what their lives can be, and I want to encourage them to follow those dreams even when doing so is hard.

I never want to believe or say that it’s too late for me to do something I’m really excited about. It is never too late to live the rock-n-roll life, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. Have y’all seen Young at Heart yet? Because you really must. I own it. Come on over, and we’ll watch it together just so I can prove my point.

I want to make people laugh. I want to make other people wonder what’s so funny. I get down on myself sometimes because I think I’m not doing anything meaningful. I mean, clean water is clearly more important than jokes, but here’s the thing: Laughter is bonding, and people need connection with each other. Laughter is healing, and there is a lot of pain in the world. Laughter might not be a part of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, but it should be. I don’t know if happy people live longer, but they sure do enjoy it more.

I don’t know what the plot of my story is yet, but I hope it involves a husband I can goof off with, travel with, raise children with, and grow with for the rest of my life, demonstrating radical love to everyone around us. I hope it involves at least a short stint in Spain (because I freaking love that country for no apparent reason). I hope it involves all the friends I currently love and all those I haven’t met yet. I hope it involves a lot of writing and a lot of foreigners, a home with an open-door policy and awesome flea market chic decor, delicious food and wine, full passports, surprises, and tons of music and dancing.

If it’s a story I’m writing with my life, it’ll be on Broadway one of these days. Mark my words.

These are the first of my thoughts on life that will hopefully win me a trip to Portland to attend Donald Miller’s conference. These thoughts are too vague, though, so for the rest of the week I’ll be writing more specific stories. Then we’ll pick the best one, and I’ll enter it in the contest.

Here’s what had happened:

I gave away that poster, right? And they gave me one too, so I’m making a game board to use in class. It’s just sort of a generic game board with different colored squares. The students will roll the dice and move that number of squares, and whichever color square they land on, they’ll take a question card of the same color. It is much like Cranium in this way. If they get the question right, then they get to roll and move again on their next turn. If they get it wrong, they have to stay there and answer another question of that color, and so on until they get one right.

Mrs. Emily Furr Hogan is helping me to create the board (because she’s amazing like that), and now it just needs a name to go in the center.

Here’s my thought. I can make question cards for all kinds of things:

• a wide range of questions for various ESL levels
• questions based on specific grammatical structures
• vocabulary questions
• review/comprehension questions based on recent units taught, things read, or films viewed

And I hope that I will. Shoot, given enough time I could even go commercial with that bad boy and sell it to ESL teachers worldwide! They could buy the game board and then card packs to suit their needs. I’ll set up a booth at TESOL conferences where I’ll peddle the game, my book, and t-shirts.

But first, the game needs a name. Tragically (and somewhat surprisingly), “Word Up” is already taken. Yes, there really is a game for ESL students called Word Up. I like to think that the creator(s) of this game came up with the idea in the 90s in the middle of a conversation that rambled between their fly flat tops, how hot Terri Hatcher and Dean Cain were on Lois and Clark, the untimely death of Kurt Cobain, grammar, and the not-yet-recognized genius of Johnny Depp. But I’m pretty sure it was created by a middle-aged lady in the 70s who still doesn’t know that it’s AWESOME.

Anyhoe, my game needs a name, and we can’t call it Word Up. So I put out a request for alternate suggestions, and these are my favorites. Which one is your favorite? You may only pick one.

• Grammopoly
• ESL-ympics
• Say WHAT?! Dangit. Apparently this one is already taken too. How about…
• Speak Up! Or…
• I Say!

If you think you have a better name for my game, feel free to write it in. The polls are now open.

First of all, if you want to win the 18×24 poster, go read all about it and enter. The contest ends tomorrow, so hurry it up. And now for a very special announcement…

I’ve been waiting to make the formal announcement until after I’d told some people in person (or over the phone). I just didn’t want them to find out from the blog. And now that I think about it, probably 90% of my readers are those people, so for the other 10% of you who might not even know me and therefore don’t really care, this is for you?

I’m pregnant. Just kidding. But Andrea is, and Paige and Amy just gave birth, and well…I was feeling a little left out. Plus I lie sometimes. No, the real announcement is…

I’m engaged!! Kidding again. I told you I lie. And now no matter what I say, you won’t believe me. I may as well just hang it up. No? You’re still curious? Ok fine…

I’m moving back to Raleigh. And here’s where I pause to let you not believe me for a second before I try to convince you that I’m serious. It’s sort of a long story, and I still have mixed feelings about it, but it looks like I’m moving on July 31. The feelings I have are as follows:

• Bummed outedness. I love Asheville. Asheville is great. I love living in such proximity to downtown, I love walking around downtown, I love just being here, I LOVE waking up at 9 and not having to be anywhere most days until 6:30 p.m. And I’m just starting to make more friends and really feel at home, but I know this is the right move.
• Relief. I know I’m southern, and that it is therefore impolite, impertinent, unladylike and possibly dangerous to discuss my finances in such a public forum, but let’s be honest. I’m running out of money, and the job in Raleigh pays WAY better than it does here. It’s like lots of wealthy people have moved into Asheville from other places, driving the cost of living up, but the wages haven’t caught up yet. So I’m living at medium-sized city prices on small town wages.
• Excitement. Living here has, in one way or another, shown me what I really want out of a city, and it’s not that Raleigh doesn’t have those things. It’s just that I didn’t know I needed to find them before – things like a writing group, the quiet of nature, and a Trader Joe’s. (I knew how great TJ’s was before. I just took it for granted.) But now that I know what I’m looking for, I feel like I can go back and do things better than I did when I lived there before. Maybe I’ll even take that adult dance class I’m always talking about.

  I’m also excited that I get to hang out with all my buddies again regularly; I’ma Call You Josh (our Rock Band band) can get back together and go on a reunion tour. I’ll finally be able to save money again, perhaps to take a trip in 2011. I won’t have to drive 30 minutes to work every day. I won’t have to work four nights a week (just two). I won’t be so far away from everybody (2 hours to Wilmington, 4 to Asheville, 2.5 to WILKESBORO!!!!!, 5 to D.C., international airport just up the road). I’ll be back with an awesome group of co-workers and a great boss.

I’ll definitely have to come up and visit Asheville a LOT now that I know people and love it (and now that I’ll be able to afford to do things here), so don’t you fret, Ashevillains. I won’t forget about you. You’ve all been great, and I’ll miss you. A lot. More than you know.

And hey, if anyone knows of a place I can live in Raleigh for say…$400 a month around Wade Ave., Cameron Village or 5-Points, let me know. I could probably go as high as $500, but I’d rather not. And I would also consider places off of Tryon, Duraleigh or the Six Forks/Wake Forest Rd./Atlantic Ave. area. Nothing too shady or drunken college student-infested, please. I have to get up early for work.

Now. Who’s going to take aerobic pole dancing classes with me?

1. I cut a jerk off (because he was being a jerk) at 3 mph. He honked at me to show his dissatisfaction. He then turned on his bright lights, I can only assume, to prove once again that he was a jerk.
2. On the side of the freeway, I saw one of those big, cylindrical spin brushes like they have in the automatic car washes. You know, the ones that spin their way down the sides of your car. I thought it was an odd place for it to be hanging out.
3. The ants in my kitchen have multiplied exponentially. Seeing as we’ve had these little squatters for at least two months now, I think it’s time we tried something new.
4. My gas light came on. Again. Seriously, gas light? I need gas EVERY week? That’s crazy.
5. I listened to my Simon and Simon CD. That’s Paul Simon and Carly Simon. I dare you to make a better themed CD.
6. I imagined eating gorgonzola and brie (separately). I’m a bad vegan.
7. I actually ate hummus. Good vegan.
8. I got paid to sit in my classroom alone for three hours. It was better than Census2010 because there were no children, and I had internet access.
9. I watched too many episodes of Law and Order: SVU.
10. I talked to Emily Furr Hogan on the phone. Day: made.

Today, I have a story for you. Rather than answering a question, it’s a story about a question I was asked yesterday. I was on the phone with DLF on my way to work, and sort of out of nowhere, she asked me, “Have you ever taught drunk?”

Now let’s take a break from the actual question for a second so I can tell you that I thought she said, “Have you ever talked drunk?” And I thought THAT was a bizarre question because it assumes that I either always drink alone and therefore never speak to anyone else, or that if I get drunk at a party, I suddenly become extremely shy and reticent. Or perhaps she thought both of those things were true, which is just really weird if you know me. Or if you know any people for that matter.

So I said, “What?” And she repeated herself. And then the question was not quite as strange, but almost, and it took me a second to register what she was asking me exactly and to respond with curiosity and perhaps a hint of incredulity, “No? Have you?”

DLF teaches piano, cello and music theory, see, and she went on to tell me about how she was trying to teach this kid how to play with a metronome, and he just couldn’t get it, and she started thinking about how much easier and/or more bearable it would be if she were drunk. So we talked about the possibility for a while – logistics and such. I said I couldn’t really do it because I have to drive half an hour to work, so I’d either have to take my liquor with me, arrive early, and chug it down, or I’d have to drive there while intoxicated. And even if I went early, got drunk, and then taught, we’d still have to deal with getting home. I mean, maintenance is going to want to lock up, so I can’t really stay there until I’m sober. I suppose I could sit in my car for a while, but really, this could only go on for so long before I’d get arrested, so I think that at this point, teaching drunk is not an option for me.

She was saying that on Mondays, she doesn’t drive that much, so she could probably do it on Mondays.

Then I started thinking that you couldn’t just get drunk, and then teach. Because an 8-year-old who can’t figure out a beat is sure to be a buzz-kill, so you’d need a steady flow of alcohol throughout the lesson. I said, “Yeah, you could just keep a glass of vodka there and sip on it. It would just look like water,” to which SHE replied, “Yeah, I mean I was sipping on a Diet Coke the other day, and I thought, You know, there’s no reason why this shouldn’t have rum in it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “Now we’ve gone from ‘Here’s a funny idea’ to ‘I’m legitimately considering it’ to ‘How can I make this happen?’ to ‘It’s only logical.’ OF COURSE this Diet Coke should have rum in it. There’s NO REASON why it shouldn’t. It is the thing that makes sense in my mind.”

I pointed out to her that if she’d been having the conversation with most other people, they’d start making arrangements for an intervention as soon as they hung up the phone. We laughed, but just a word to the wise. If you live in northern Florida, I’d stay off the roads on Mondays if I were you.

Today I made a delicious lentil recipe I found here. I had to cook it longer than the recipe calls for, but it was REALLY good. I stuffed my face with it for lunch AND dinner, and I’m going to have it for dinner again tomorrow (and probably lunch on Friday). Apart from that, this week has just been really good.

The weather is perfect, I saved electricity today by drying my laundry out on the porch, my students and I all came back from spring break with renewed energy, so classes have been particularly enjoyable and productive this week, I have had lots of good conversations with friends, DLF IS A FULBRIGHT SCHOLAR!!!!!!!!!! (which means I am legally obligated to go to Belgium in the next year), I’ve had a couple of really awesome hair days, I read the entire gospel of John yesterday, Lost and Glee were both great, and I’m going to Wilmington this weekend with my roommate. I honestly don’t know that I could ask for a better week. I think to do so would be extremely selfish and picky (but I wouldn’t argue with a boyfriend being thrown into the mix).

I don’t know what else to tell you except good night, pleasant dreams, ask me more questions, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.