Thinking About Michael Brown

When Michael Brown's death made nationally headlines, I thought, "Aw, that sucks."  Which.  Is maybe the most disgusting reaction to the knowledge of a human being's death?  My self-centered privilege could not be better summarized than my indifferent reaction to the end of a person's life.

I was going to write about how my opinion changed, a process that mostly revolves around the destruction of my naive belief that of course Darren Wilson would be charged with murder.  But I'm not good at talking about this.  Racial tensions, and a history of racial privilege and abuse that has been largely swept under the rug (because of embarrassment? a genuine hope to move past it?), oh my gosh, that is so out of my depth.  I very much believe racial equality is still something for which America must strive, but I'm not knowledgeable on all the details of how this plays out. 

So instead I'm just going to post some of the things I've been seeing online that have got me thinking.

I'm ashamed to admit that when this first was blowing up, I thought, "But I'm fighting for gender equality, not racial equality."  Again, ugh, the inside of my brain, ugh!  As if my concern for justice can only cover one group.  Thankfully I saw things like this that connected the dots for me.

This grossed me out...

One quote that especially made me sad...

“What age is a black boy when he learns he’s scary?”― Jonathan Lethem

And then there were a lot of comparisons made of how the law treats black and white people drastically differently.

"Just a reminder that James Holmes shot 82 people, walked out of a movie theater armed to the teeth and was arrested peacefully, while Mike Brown and a 12 year old boy with a toy gun were shot to death by cops because of 'self-defense.'"

This is not a place where I'm defending what "really" happened or how this specific situation ought to be played out, although I definitely have opinions.  What I care about is my growing concern for the racial divides that run deep in American veins.  In my veins.  I am appalled at how easy it was for me to not care about the death of a human being.  I am appalled at my preference in supporting one oppressed minority (aka the group I'm in!) while totally ignoring another oppressed minority.  I want to be on the side of the downtrodden, the abused, the hurting, the ignored, whether or not I can personally identify with them.  I'm done with not caring.

Decision

I'm staying in Dallas.

For two reasons, the first of which I mentioned in the blog post about my group therapy experience.  The second reason was an unintentionally thought-provoking statement by my brother.  We joke sometimes, trying to convince each other to move to our own city so we can live in the same place again.  "I just think you're unreliable," Roy said.  "If I moved to Dallas, within a month you would have decided to move somewhere else."

He wasn't wrong.  I kept turning the phrase over and over.  It made me laugh.  It made me feel good that he knows me so well.  It made me flinch, knowing that people see me as unreliable, and worse, that they are right to do so. 

A couple days ago I decided I didn't want to be that person.  Ever since I started looking for colleges, I have always had my eye on The Next Thing.  I don't let anywhere become my home because what if something new comes up?  I'm not averse to moving, and I haven't had some crazy change-of-personality...the idea of staying in Dallas for the rest of my life curdles my stomach.  But I'm deciding not to look for somewhere to move.  I'm deciding to say Dallas is my home, I will be at home here, this city is my home base.

As soon as I made that decision, I realized I had blown the Greece option out of the water.  Dina never once asked me to move to Athens.  She never said she wanted me there next summer.  Suddenly everything fell into perspective.  I do think this opportunity is uniquely suited to my interests and passions.  But the things that excite me most--blogging about it to raise awareness of her work, providing support to the staff--are things that fit nicely into a two-week trip.  A month.  I can stay in Dallas and take a month-long trip to Athens.  I don't have to move there.

It all seems very obvious from this side.  Three months of worrying and stressing... *eyeroll* 

Coward

As a struggling-to-reform perfectionist, I try pretty hard to be vulnerable and okay with weakness in front of Anju and Ketan, both of whom are well on their way to being full-blown neurotic perfectionists.  This means freely telling them, "I didn't know that," and "I was wrong," and "Whoa, that made me nervous!" I also tell them about all the things I'm scared of, from failing to heights to spiders.

When they both started reading Divergent, we naturally began categorizing each other into factions.  We have had this conversation approximately twenty billion times.

Anju:  You're definitely Amity, Miss Trish.
Me:  Yeah.
Ketan:  And Erudite!
Me:  Yup.
Anju:  But not Dauntless.  You're scared of everything.  Haha, you're such a coward!

So I clench my teeth and nod and admit that, yeah, I'm scared of a lot of things.  I do not, no matter how badly I want to, point out that she is scared of infinitely more things than I am, because I am (barely) above comparing myself to a seven-year-old.  And when Ketan boasts that his nickname would be Three, thereby claiming to be braver than Tobias, I hold my tongue and do not mention how he sometimes cries himself to sleep. 

We went to Six Flags today, and I hate roller coasters, which combine two stupid things: heights and falling.  That lurching feeling in your stomach that makes you think you're going to die?  I am totally fine going throughout my day without intentionally afflicting myself with it.  I want them both to know that it's okay to say no, that no matter how many times they whine at me or tease me, I'm allowed to say no and peer pressure isn't going to change that. 

I mean, I'm like really saintly towards these kids.  They had better look back some day and think, "Wow, Miss Trish actively and lovingly shaped us into confident, self-accepting human beings."  But if they keep needling me about how big of a coward I am, one of these days I'm going to pull a Severus Snape and scream, "DON'T CALL ME COWARD!" before fleeing into the Forbidden Forest.

Friendship

One of the things I love about Liz is that she shares both my boy-craziness and my fear of committed relationships. 

Also because after two weeks of busyness and always being with people, hanging out with her felt like being alone.

One day soon I'm going to post about something she shared with me, but I'm not feeling it right now, so instead I'm just writing short paragraphs.

Fangirling Roommates

Rachel is my new roommate, and I proper like her.  She's both taken me to and picked me up from the airport, and we've known each other less than a month.  She likes to just sit and watch movies when she's home, so I'm watching things I forgot I owned.  She put in Sound of Music the other day and I tentatively said, "I've never even seen the whole thing."  Last time I said that I nearly got lynched, but this time she smiled and said, "Me neither!"  We watched the first half but then quit.

Today we went to see Girl Most Likely, and it was our first time out and hanging about.  Darren Criss is in it, and while she does not love him for being Harry Potter, she is very aware of his awesomeness.  Which was, like, overflowing mountains in this movie.  Seriously, I can't even describe all of the ways I loved him, although they often included his eyes and his snarky sweetness.  The best part, however, was our mutual squee-fest--hands to our mouths, whispering "why is he like this?" in traumatic undertones, and grinning maniacally at each other and the screen when he started to sing.

I leaned over at one point and said, "This is good preparation for the One Direction movie, huh?"  She nodded and gestured at her face.  "There will be tears.  Just, rivers of tears."

I love fangirling, and I love being around people who fangirl.  Rachel is going to be fun.

#toubabs2013

As an introvert, the idea of spending all day with someone for FOUR DAYS can produce mild panic.  Spending four days with twenty people, all crowding in on each other with nowhere to go for solitude, well.  It should have been miserable.  But somehow the Forsythe's team in Fatick is family, whether or not I have actually met them before.

Liz and I drove to Memphis on Friday, listening to awesome music and talking, which is what we do best.  We got to Mallory's apartment and while I never forget that I like Mallory, I always forget just how much (it's a lot).  This girl Shannon is doing the Journeyman program in Dakar later this year, and although she knew none of us, she agreed to hang out with a bunch of temporary Senegalese residents.  The four of us ate BBQ nachos and took a tour of Mallory's Memphis.

We already had fifty inside jokes by this point, so at the free outdoor concert, we pulled out books to read.  Ashley and Stephen came, and we had a wonderful catch-up conversation while not listening to the band.  Since it was 9:00 and we still had to drive an 1 1/2 to Jackson, we powered up with coffee, made friends with the barista, and made our way to the Hughes house to spend the night.

Liz's phone went off at 8:15, we snoozed for five minutes until Mallory, who it turns out is a disgusting morning person, bounced on her air mattress and said, "It's 8:20!  It's 8:20!"  We got up and hung out with Jennie, Dusty, and their kids for a couple hours before heading to Union.  Kim met us there; I gave everyone the Tornado Tour and she gave everyone the Kim&Travis Tour.  Here is the story of how Kim and Travis met.

*both are walking down the sidewalk with friends*
*Kim notices that Travis is cute*
Kim:  Hi!
*Travis ignores Kim*
Kim:  HEY.  I said hi to you!
*eventually they date, get married, and have four kids*

Words cannot express how much I love their love story.

We arrived at the Forsythe Missionary House Saturday afternoon.  I was prepared to dislike everyone I didn't know who had their own Senegal stories that weren't mine, but it turns out everyone was lovely.  I think there must be a certain kind of person who chooses, or agrees, to go to West Africa and has a good enough time that they want to reconnect with people who had similar experiences.  Because somehow, someway, everyone got along and had fun.

Gloria and Nate had a water wars event planned, so everyone changed into play clothes (I wore a shirt from Jennie and shorts from Gloria--nothing means friendship to me like someone lending me their clothes) and prepared for watery destruction.  We had a Hunger Games style battle, but each of us had a particular person we were supposed to kill.  I had Lucas, and joy of joys, we ended up in the same safe zone.

Lucas:  Do you want to be allies?
Me:  Yes!  *internally: mwahahaa*
Lucas:  How do I know you don't have my name?
Me:  You don't.
Lucas:  Alright.  *runs out of the safe zone*
Me:  *chucks water balloon at him and misses*
Me:  *chucks water balloon at him and misses*
Me:  *chucks water balloon at him and misses*
Me:  *chucks water balloon at him and misses*
Ethan:  *chucks water balloon at me and hits*

I was out rather quickly, is what I mean.  But then all the dead people attacked each other with water balloons and water guns, and it all worked out okay in the end.

Two guys who had gone to Fatick in January had motorcycles, which naturally meant we had to take rides.  I borrowed a pair of Nate's jeans to protect my legs, popped on half a helmet, and rode with Biggest Ethan (as compared to the Big Ethan Forsythe) for quite a ways.  It was glorious.  Until I came back and someone told me he had only been driving a motorcycle for six months and I was his first ever passenger.  Everyone else rode with Josiah on a set route with a leather jacket and full helmet.  Whoops.  At least I'm alive.

For the rest of the afternoon we played games and got to know each other better.  Travis and I teamed up for Settlers of Cataan, which made us team T&T.  We fist bumped and Nate reminded me we ought to have done a fist explosion, a missed opportunity that I still regret.  We also played Quelf, which is guaranteed fun times, especially in getting to know new people.  And of course we all arm wrestled, which is how I gauge my relationship with the Forsythe kids.  Used to be I could beat Nate quite easily, but now...that is not the case.  Even Ethan beat me.  Kim got very excited about the idea of leg wrestling, so we moved the furniture in the living room out of the way.  I beat her immediately, at which point I was very excited about the idea of leg wrestling.  Turns out I've got legs of steel, since I beat Duncan, Ethan, and Nate.  I, uh, also lost once to Nate and to Mallory, but we don't speak of those things.

We ordered pizza for dinner, and what with all the cookies and brownies that seemed to never disappear, I had a delicious weekend.  However, it turns out that eating so unhealthily takes an iron stomach, something I have lost in Dallas with my avocados and homemade Indian dishes.

Gloria is crazy artistic, and when I found out she can do henna, I practically begged her to decorate my hand.  She did a really gorgeous design that didn't stain my hand properly, so I only have evidence in pictures.

We stayed late before heading back to the Hughes house to spend the night.  Sunday morning everyone went to church, and....well, I had forgotten it was the Sunday before the 4th of July.  It was everything I hate about patriotism within the church, and I might have said, "I hate this" out loud, at which point Liz held my hand and whispered, "Not now.  We'll talk about this later."  Then they said some more things that made me shaky with anger, and I might have cried during the prayers because all I could think was, "God, forgive me, I'm having a really hard time not hating everyone in here."

I mean, it was bad.  Ugh.  When the service was over and we got in the car to drive to Subway, I screamed in frustration and Liz and I had a long conversation about everything that so offended us.  The upside was that our group took up two whole rows, and when the service was over we all kind of looked at each other and made subtle comments and facial expressions that soothed my heart, because I could not have stood it if my Fatick family had loved the things I had hated.

The other upside is that the rest of the day was wonderful.  I almost played Ultimate Frisbee (in Ethan's t-shirt; that's four people I borrowed from if you're counting), but Lucas kind of flipped it in his hands and I flinched so violently that I ran to Liz in embarrassment.  Instead I went inside to chat with the other unathletic people, then took a nap.  Public napping was one of my favorite things in Fatick, so I like to think I was honoring the integrity of our reunion by sleeping through the afternoon.

When the frisbee-ers came back in, I cuddled against Mallory and had my feet tucked behind Travis, and just--those are the little moments I so loved about the weekend.  The comfort that never seems to disappear between myself and these people with whom I shared only five months of my life.

Most of us piled into the Suburban to get Sonic drinks, and when we returned we finally played Fishbowl, which was as entertaining as always, though without any graphic portrayals of childbirth.  We ordered Chinese takeout, and Bill and Sally stopped by while we were eating.  Nate took me outside to learn how to throw a spiral pass.  That didn't happen, but Bill joined us, and I had fun being awful.  At one point the football bounced down the front lawn.  I grabbed it, and Bill yelled some kind of encouragement.  I tossed my hair, said, "Yes, well I'm just so graceful," and twisted my ankle.  Seriously. 

Ethan brought Melanie (his second wife) flowers, bypassing me completely.  Half an hour later he came in with a smaller and less complicated bouquet for me.  If I had any doubts before, I now know I do not have the temperament to be in a polygamous marriage, even with a sister-wife as lovely as Melanie.  However, we did take several pictures of the three of us.

Driving downtown, Nate happened to be sitting between Melanie and me.

Nate:  So, is this an all-Forsythe boy thing?
Me:  What?
Nate:  We are sitting in the same arrangement.
Me:  ...Do you want us to kiss you??
Nate:  Well.
Melanie:  Ethan gave us flowers first.
Me:  Yeah, we don't kiss anyone without payment.  Oh.  We're prostitutes.
Melanie:  But they were flowers!
Nate:  Romantic prostitutes.

Downtown, the coffee shop I wanted Liz to experience was closed.  However, we all walked around and sang a little and took pictures.  Liz found a plaque that described how David Crockett had left Jackson after losing an election, at which point he said, "You can go to hell, but I will go to Texas."  I am going to try to remember to say this every time I leave somewhere to return to Dallas.

Back at the house, we stayed up late playing games in which we winked at each other to kill one another or made weird gestures at each other in secret.  I promise it was fun.  By 11:30, Holly and RC were going to head to their hotel, but they stayed another hour as we prayed for each other.  It made me cry.  It was lovely.

Liz and Melanie and I shared the bed that night.  Melanie apologized for hitting me in the face, which I didn't feel.  I apologized for punching Liz, which she didn't feel.  Sleeping three to a bed is not something I typically desire, but it was a perfect last night for our family weekend.

In the morning, the remaining athletic people ran to Green Frog.  Shannon, Nate, Ethan and I drove there.  We all had coffee and breakfast and one last picture.  Liz and I were going to leave from downtown, but Travis was not awake to come pick up everyone else, so we carpooled back to the house.  We hugged and packed up and left.  I immediately started recounting my favorite memories, and Liz and I held on to the weekend by reliving it for as long as possible.

From This Thought to That

1)  You know that moment of sweet relief when you admit something that you feel is so strange, and everyone says, "Oh I do that too!"?  Well, it's very strange for the opposite to happen, to assume that your experience is universal and then to suddenly find out that it is not.  Turns out everyone did not go through the suicidal teenage thing?  I thought that was a thing. 

2)  I used to buy swimsuits in an attempt to cover up as much skin as possible.  Now there are ominous strapless dresses looming in my future and the repetitious "no tan lines!" echoing in my head, so I'm stuck emailing Liz pictures of me in the dressing room with the caption "what the hell is the difference between swimwear appropriate and slutty??"

3)  I don't actually like the word slutty.  I don't like slut-shaming, and the idea that women, and how they choose to dress, are responsible for the actions of men.  Slut-shaming is a very short step away from victim-blaming, and no matter what a woman is wearing, she's not asking to be raped.  Let's put our focus on teaching boys to respect women and NOT RAPE THEM rather than teaching women how not to get raped.

4)  I freaking love Michal Ann, because she sends me links to feminist things, and we talk about it, and it's this huge part of my life that so few people share.  Share entirely, I mean.  The Interwebs and my brother are huge feminists, and I love that, but Michal Ann is my Christian feminist buddy who sees Jesus affirming the equality of women and loving the way the Bible tells the narratives of women and gives us dignity and sadness and purpose.  I want her to stop being in Turkey and start being in Texas.

5)  Amy and Liz are having a garage sale tomorrow, and they're selling a bunch of stuff, and this means there is only one more week in which they will be living here.  I'm not thinking about this.  I'm not thinking about it so hard that I work and sulk and hole up in my room and distract myself with books and schoolwork and TV shows.  It's funny how long it took for me to realize that a major source of my flirtation with depression was Liz leaving.  But I'm not going to think about that, because denial is a wonderful skillset.

I Will Watch Anything Starring Hugh Laurie

I keep leaving blogging until the last minute, because I forget I've decided to blog every day this month.  By the end of the day, I have TOO MANY thoughts flying through my head, and I don't know where to even start laying them down.  Or if I want to commit to the time it would take to go into them.

So I'll go with the easy and mention that Liz and I watched The Oranges, which we've wanted to watch for MONTHS, and it was so weirdly good!  It stars Hugh Laurie, who gets sexier with age, and he sleeps with his best friend/neighbor's daughter.  That's the story.  HAHAHA.  And it was so confusing, because a) Hugh Laurie, and b) everyone was ridiculous and sad and understandable.  I love narratives that refuse to paint people as villains or heroes, but instead tell stories realistically and painfully.

Painfully funny, too.  This movie does awkward like nothing.  It was so wonderful.  I have no opinions about it because it played spin the bottle with my moral compass, so I need time to digest and process. 

Alright, that's a good couple paragraphs.  Done.

The Internet Creates Lopsided Relationships

I try really hard to make my Facebook statuses funny.  I mean, not hard like I spend hours on each one, but I definitely tweak the wording and try to make them as concisely hilarious as possible.  Unless I'm flailing, at which point, anything is possible.

It's an art form, I think.  To be entertaining in a sentence or two.  Clearly, this is not usually how I write, since I've always operated under the guidelines, "if one sentence is good, one hundred would be better!"  So I'm branching out.

Which makes it so rewarding when people tell me they enjoy my Facebook statuses!  When I went home to Peoria last weekend, a few people mentioned that I was so funny, ha ha, and it made my little heart light up.  But there is a hidden side to Internet sharing! 

Other people feel closer to me than I feel to them.  Especially those people who never comment, and I have no idea they are even reading my thoughts.  So for people to tell me I'm funny, or they love reading my stuff, or mention something I wrote weeks ago--it's strange!  I am very aware that they know more about me than I know about them.  Mostly I'm okay with that, because most of the stuff I share is either 1) carefully thought out for public consumption or 2) ridiculous funniness that doesn't really matter.  The thing is, I need other people to understand this lopsided relationship.  And I think people do, or at least no one acted as though I ought to know their thoughts like they knew mine.

It reminds me of when I met Donald Miller.  Having read four of his books, I felt like we were BFFs.  I knew his opinions, fears, and desires.  My heart and his heart beat simultaneously.  Until I got face-to-face and realized he had no idea who I was.  It was weird.

THOSE ARE MY THOUGHTS and everyone now knows them.  What an age we live in.

(If you want to restore balance to our relationships, talk to me!  Comment on my posts or statuses, or even just consistently like them.  I pay attention.  Heh heh, that sounded a bit ominous.  Or it should have.  Go back and read it again if you missed that intonation.)

Stars

Yikes, I missed two days.  So much for blog-every-day-in-June.  In my defense I was in Peoria visiting the people I love, and also blogging on my iPad is annoying.

When I flew out of Dallas, the sun was setting and lights were popping on 35,000 feet below me.  I thought a little about light pollution, and how in college my friends and I got up at 3 a.m. to drive into the country to watch a meteor shower.  I wondered how many more stars we might see if we didn't have so many lights burning all the time everywhere.

But then I thought, this is beautiful.  The scattered dots of white and yellow, like Christmas or hope or salvation.  And I thought, maybe the stars look down on us and say, "Used to be there were only a few lights visible, but now look!  There are so many!  Isn't it wonderful?"

And from the star's perspective, I thought humanity was doing a pretty good job.

Words of Wisdom

The key to looking like an awesome dancer is to dance with your elbows.

Romance stories are rubbish unless the will-be partners act like idiots together.

Animals are necessary accessories for the fashionable introvert.

Ordering contact lenses is harder than getting into graduate school.

It's impossible to avoid being a douchebag when you say, "Because I'm an adult."

Three cups of coffee in the morning is too much, but if it's free, you should drink them.

A book's betrayal is the hardest to get over.

Running on a store's display ellipticals is a financially responsible way to exercise.

Don't listen to the advice of someone who begins their list describing the best way to dance.

Travel Therapy

Two of my favorite things in life have to do with escaping life:  books and travel.  If I think about that too much it is worrying.  Good thing I'm not going to!

Instead, I'm focusing on how excited I am to be looking directly at several months of funtimestraveljamsessions!  Next week I'm headed to Peoria for the weekend.  Later in June I'm going to Tennessee for a Senegal reunion.  In July I'm flying to Seattle to see my brother.  In August I'm back to Peoria for another wedding.  Nothing in September, but then in October, I'm going to Maryland to visit Elizabeth!

Small tip, if we are friends and you say, "You should come visit me sometime!"  I will take that crap seriously.  Elizabeth did that after a couple days of analyzing The Great Gatsby, and within 24 hours I had bought a plane ticket.  Apparently she lives very near F. Scott Fitzgerald's grave, and I'm so excited!!  That's weird, right?  I don't know.  I just love me some Fitzgerald.

Four states in five months.  If I throw in Texas, because I live here, that's five states in five months, which sounds much more impressive.  I've just decided to give into wanderlust all the time and not try to grow past or deny this need I have to GO and SEE and EXPERIENCE.  Those are human desires, I think, and not entirely bad.  So long as I also appreciate what I have while I have it.

"Hold me fast, hold me fast, cause I'm a hopeless wanderer...
I will learn, I will learn to love these skies I'm under."

Oh, Mumford & Sons.  I love you (AND I'M GOING TO SEE YOU IN ELEVEN DAYS OH MY WORD MY LIFE).

Brush Your Teeth

Have I ever talked about Ketan and teeth brushing?  Because it is the worst, but last night we had a hilarious breakthrough.

Basically, whenever I stay late on Friday or Saturday nights, the kids zonk out watching TV, and by the time we go upstairs to go to bed, they fight not to brush their teeth.  And it is AWFUL.

The first time this happened, Ketan collapsed on the foot stool by the sink, "pretending" to be asleep.  I honestly don't know whether he sleepwalking or faking or slipping in and out of consciousness.  I tried every form of persuasion to get him to brush his teeth, but he just cried and screamed.  The kid is nine.  This is not normal for him.  Eventually I became so flustered that I just carried him to bed.

After that I took precautions, making sure they were entirely ready for bed before we crashed in front of the television.  Until one time I didn't.

Ketan was plenty awake when we had to turn off the TV, but as soon as we got upstairs and walked past the bathroom, he complained his legs hurt so he was going to lie down.  I grabbed his collar and redirected him to the sink.  He sat and cried.  HIS LEGS HURT, why couldn't I see that?  So I mentally rolled my eyes and told him I was perfectly willing to stand there with him until his legs stopped hurting and he was able to brush his teeth.  Five minutes later, he was still complaining, and I was trying to point out that brushing teeth only involves a person's hands and face.  Not legs.  It was probably safe to go ahead.  But no.  Five minutes later, I was royally pissed.  I don't get angry very often as a rule, and these kids are generally great.  It's just these two freaking teeth brushing incidents that infuriate me.

Finally I said I would just brush his teeth for him.  He resisted, but when I said he could just hold his mouth open for a minute and then go to bed, he let me brush his teeth.  Which was awful, because I've never brushed someone else's teeth!  So I'm fumbling around, weirdly scrabbling at his teeth with his toothbrush.  And then I aggressively run over his loose tooth, and he shrieks, spitting blood into the sink and yelling at me for hurting him.  I apologized and pointed out that he could have brushed his own teeth, but honestly I was so angry (and a little guilty) I just pointed toward his bed and ran downstairs to decompress.

Fifteen minutes later he was STILL crying in bed, and he called for me.  I trudged up the stairs.  Turns out his legs still hurt, and he genuinely had a charlie horse.  So I sat with him and rubbed his calves.  He asked me to stay with him, which, ugh.  The bastard, playing with my emotions.  It worked though, I felt compassionate for him, so I explained that he has every right to feel pain and get upset.  It's just that he also has to brush his teeth, and it's really confusing and upsetting for me to be with him like that, because normally he's so obedient and kind.  It was a really lovely moment, especially because he fell asleep.

Last night concludes our saga (UGH I HOPE).  We watched TV, I forgot to make them brush their teeth, so I cheerily reminded them of this fact as we walked up the stairs.  Ketan bypassed the bathroom to collapse on his bed, so I grabbed his legs and said,

Me:  Nope.  You've got to brush your teeth first.
Ketan:  I don't want to.
Me:  I know, but you have to.  Please don't fight me on this.  I absolutely hate fighting with you about brushing your teeth.
Ketan:  Why?  Because I win?
Me:  No.  Because I will win, but it will take a lot out of me.
Ketan:  ...
Ketan:  Will you drag me to the bathroom?
Me:  Sure.

So Ketan flopped to the ground, held out his arms, and I dragged him down the hall to the bathroom, both of us giggling.  He brushed his teeth, went to bed, and it was wonderful.

Lessons I've learned:  Be honest.  Tell kids when things are hard for you, but don't acquiesce authority.  Also, add whimsy.  If someone wants to be dragged on the floor, do it.  It's fun for everyone.

It's Easier to Fit In When You Have Kids

I know none of my neighbors.  But I know most of people who live on the street where I nanny.  I've been in their homes asking for Girl Scout cookie purchases, I've used their bathrooms, I've petted their dogs, I've chatted with parents, I've sent off my kids to play with theirs.  I've also become friendly with the people who work at after school care, and I've had lovely conversations with the moms of Anju and Ketan's friends.  I text them and set up plans and use emoticons.  I'm on a first name basis with piano teachers and Kumon instructors.  I'm part of this little society, where I fit into Dallas and have this life where I'm in charge of kids and have things in common with adults and parents.

It's very weird, especially when I go from that to my anonymous neighborhood.

Further Tattoo Thoughts

Alright, so it's been a week.  What is it like to have a tattoo for a week, everyone desperately wants to know.

Well, it healed super fast.  If I slammed my wrist against the edge of a desk, I'm sure it would hurt, but then again, it usually does.  Other than that, it feels fine.

It's very slightly raised, and I don't know if that will stay.  I kind of hope so, but I have a feeling it won't.

It's definitely weird.  I mean, I knew it was permanent before I got it.  But it's totally different, seeing something on my skin and knowing it will ALWAYS BE THERE.  I don't regret it or anything like that, it's just strange.  I guess it's what people feel after getting married, realizing, "Whoa, I knew I was going to spend my life with this person, but now it's real.  We're really together forever."

In related news, I think I just found another really good reason for me to have gotten a tattoo.  If anyone needs to practice commitment, it's me!

My grade school best friend Facebooked me some really fantastic information.  She said the root of courage is "coer" which is heart.  She also mentioned that the ancient meaning of coer was "the heart as the seat of intellect and imagination."  HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING SO PERFECT FOR ME?  I didn't think so.

Anyway, I'm still in love, it's strange in ways I didn't expect, and no one has reacted extremely negatively (to my face)!

Roommate Time

Last night Jessica and I were having such a great conversation that she rode along to Panera with me so I could buy a salad for dinner.  Then we decided to have a reading night, so we settled into our Living Room #1 with novels.  Amy came home, and sat with us.  Liz came home, and sat on the floor.  And we all talked until after 10:00.

It was perfectly lovely.  We don't often hang out the four of us, because we are busy people with drastically different schedules.  But when we do, I'm reminded of how much I like each of them.

All the more when everyone shared roommate horror stories and I realized, I have always had wonderful roommates.  How is that even possible?  I'm so grateful.

Anticipating Travel

Bridgett and I are going to Arizona this weekend, and I honestly don't know if I'm more excited about the roadtrip through West Texas or the actual destination.  It doesn't really matter, I guess, because the important thing is I'm satiating my wanderlust! 

I wonder if I have an internal countdown clock that resets every time I see a new place.

I wonder what would happen if I let the countdown clock run out!?

Arizona, Arizona, please hurry up.  I don't want to take my midterms.

Meta on Blogging

Tommy requested a new blog post, and I was going to make one, but I couldn't.  So instead I'm going to describe why I sometimes stop blogging for weeks at a time.

Sometimes it's because I'm busy.  Schoolwork piles up, and when I have to schedule in time for roommate conversations and TV, blogging falls off the list entirely.

Sometimes it's because I'm being creative elsewhere.  The last couple months I've fallen pretty heavily into poetry, reading some and writing a lot.  Most of my ideas or rants get turned into poetry rather than prose, and I'm not brave enough to post them instead of my typical rambling entries.

Sometimes it's because I've got too much going on inside.  I can only really discuss thoughts in my blog once I've got a handle on my opinion, or what I learned, or what I want.  When I'm in the middle of feeling and learning, as I have been for the last few weeks, it's hard to get anything out.  I'm very internal, and that's where I tend to process the big things.  I don't mind sharing the trivial things I experience, or the big things that I've understood.  But right now, describing what goes through my mind would give too much weight to things I want to avoid, or it would trivialize the things I'm feeling deeply.  I'm not ready to open up my vulnerability; I need some armor before writing anything.

I don't foresee what I'm working through to be done any time soon, but I'll try to blog about the more trivial things flitting through my life, like my kiddos who I'm starting to love something fierce, or the hilariously terrifying demon oppression stories Dr. Dickens tells, or how Austin is the city of weird that immediately makes me feel at home.  Gotta put in some disciplined writing practice!

A Case Study: Tricia's Brain

Me:  Oh my gosh.  I've had acne over half my life.  I thought I'd be over this by now!
Me:  Heh heh, that's kind of pithy.  I should make that my facebook status.
Me:  Someone might try to console me, and I only want it to be funny, so I'd better not.
Me:  I think this is a McGarrah thing.  I think we are cursed with bad skin.  I should probably not have kids and pass it on.
Me:  Another benefit to adoption!
Me:  But if I adopt a kid, they might very well have horrible acne.  Or much worse things.
Me:  Hm, true.
Me:  Nope, but any kid I might adopt already exists, and someone needs to love and care for them.  Me:  Good point.  Adoption is still a solid option.
*continues brushing teeth*

The Past

I was flipping through my old xanga blog from junior year of high school (eight years ago!) and well crap.  I talked about EVERYTHING.  With such enthusiasm!  I mean, I would discuss the intricacies of a lunchtime conversation then wax lonely about how much I wanted to get married in a couple years, then freak out about some nerdy thing or another.  Now, I realize I do all those things still.  I'm the same person.  But I used to do all of that in one post.  Every day.

What changed?  Am I aware that people are not actually interested in the mundane events of my life?  Did I used to not know that my life was mundane?  How sad!  Did I really used to think that every part of my life was exciting and worthy to be shared with the interwebs?  And now I've lost that?

I don't know how I feel about all this. 

EDITED TO ADD:  I used to end every post with a quote, and one resonated with me, so I put it as my facebook status.  IMMEDIATELY, two high school girls liked it.  Hahahahaha.  It must be especially meaningful at that time of life.