Summer School...not just a bad 80's movie.

I started summer school this week. At North Hennepin Community College. I can't help but notice how a community college is different from a four year school. There are so many different types of people. You have those who are there because they can't afford a four year school. You have those who don't know what they want to do with their lives. You have those who, like myself, are trying to meet prerequisites to get into another program. You have those who are trying to work, raise a family, and earn a degree. It feels kind of weird going to a school and not being a part of the community. I feel like I have the mentality, "get in and get out". I just need this class, and then I plan on saying goodbye to NHCC forever.
Today was only the second day of class, and already I've learned that my teacher smokes like a chimney, had an alcoholic father, has a sister with cancer, has a sister who is a slut, built a two story tree house when she was ten, has a gay son who recently got married in Vermont, and who is retiring in 8 years/15 semesters. Today I also learned who invented the first vibrators.
I have to say though, that I think I will love this class. My professor's over-personalization during class time makes things a LOT more interesting. Did I mention its a Child Development class? I don't really understand where vibrators fall into place...the use of one doesn't make conception very successful...impossible really.
I kind of can't wait to see what inappropriate things she is going to talk about tomorrow!

December Baby

The colored lights, they brightly shine.
Unlike your eyes avoiding mine.
The snow is folding sheet upon sheet.
Our hands not holding as we cross the street.

You have had your fill your fill of me.
You have had your fill your fill of me.

I wore the dress I thought you loved.
But my boots are filling with snow you shoved
Off of the car we climb into.
You finished first, I must catch up to you.

You have had your fill your fill of me.
You have had your fill your fill of me.

How can I catch up when I don't don't want to?
How can I catch up when I still want you?

You have had your fill your fill of me.
You have had your fill your fill of me.

December baby, you are my,
December baby, you are my,
December baby, you are my,
December baby, you are mine.

I heart Ingrid Michaelson.

snap out of it.

I've been realizing lately that I need to show myself some respect. I realize that in the last year, my self-worth has shrunk significantly. It's not just one thing, its plenty of things. And I realize that I need to start showing myself the love that I show to everyone else. For some reason when I get into a situation that tears me down, I can't just walk away. Its almost like I crave the abuse. I must, because I keep coming back for more. I feel like I need a big vacation. Like I need to move. I actually plan on moving in the fall, but I'm pretty sure that the abuse will follow me there.
I've realized that for the last year, I have listened to nothing God has said. I did my own thing, and ignored all of the people who were trying to steer me in a different direction. They saw the destructive lifestyle that I had begun to live. They saw that my happiness was placed somewhere that it shouldn't have been. And now things are falling apart, and I feel like I am not worth much at all. I keep trying to give myself pep talks, and tell myself that I deserve more than what I'm getting...but what if I don't really believe it? Nobody wants to be around someone who doesn't respect themselves. Nobody wants to be around a basket case. Nobody wants a friend who always has problems. Even my family and close friends are tired of my problems. And the reason why is because they have seen this coming for a while now...and I didn't listen.
I've also realized that God never intended for people to be so self-seeking. If I would have spent the last year of my life looking at different ways I could help others, I wouldn't have so much drama in my own life. I've created my own drama because I have been so concerned with myself and making myself happy.
The other day in church I learned this:
There are three situations when God doesn't want you to be happy:
1. God doesn’t want you happy when it causes you to sin.

2. God doesn’t want you happy when it’s driven by circumstances.
3. God doesn’t want you happy as much as God wants you blessed.

The current series is about Christian cliches, things that Christians say and believe that aren't true. These statements are in response to the Cliche, "God just wants me to be happy."
I'm not happy. I need to gain perspective because there are so many people who are worse off than me. I know that I base my happiness off of my circumstances. I think alot of people do. I need to work on that I think.

Summer Summer Summertime.

Let's hear it for another season of change. I once was the third party to a conversation between two middle aged art teachers who were reflecting on their lives and trying to decide what decade they would choose to relive. They said that they would never relive their twenties...because the time is spent with so much uncertainty. I am in the middle of my twenties, and would definitely agree. I feel like at 25 a few things should be a little more certain, but for me, NOTHING is certain. Not even who my friends are. I'm just trying to get by with not knowing where I will live or who I can rely on to be my friend. I'm sorry to the faithful friends I have had for years, props to you...but honestly barely any of you live within thirty minutes from me...so all you get is a golf clap.
Shifting gears, I am glad to be finished with the spring semester, only to be frustrated that I have to take a summer school class. It's probably a blessing though...because sometimes I feel like I get bored in the summertime. Summertime is definitely not boring. But I seem to get bored. I think it is safe to say, that last summer was the first not boring summer I have had in a really long time. I had something to do almost every night, and I went to the beach every week. Life was good. Ironically it was also the worst summer of my life. I spent my time looking for a teaching job since I got fired in the spring and I developed a panic disorder because of it. Sweet.
Also this summer I will be working everyday, and I will be taking care of my grandpa a few days a week. I will be busy with things that aren't exactly fun, but I'm sure that I will throw a few fun things in there. I want to make a trip to Chicago and beyond. But that'll be towards August I think. I have some friends who are living in Washington, but I honestly don't think I will be travelling there. It's so far. I would love to go there, but...money doesn't grow on trees, and I would hate to be so far if something happened to my grandpa.
I'm going to try to go to church all summer. It has been helping me alot lately. I also like spending that time with my family.:)

Here's a list of things I want to do this summer. I hope that I can find people to do these things with me.

1. Disc Golf
2. Camping
3. Canoeing/Kayaking
4. Chicago/Michigan
5. State Fair
6. Gluek's on Wednesday nights/ Dancing with Emily and Susan.
7. Get an A in my summer school class.
8. Several Trips to Duluth to visit my friends and classmates.
9. Driving Range
10. Drive in movies
11. Boyfriend? (this is silly...and desperate, but hey..maybe? Not holding my breath)
12. Improve at Volleyball
13. Drink beer.
14. Get a tattoo? (Now I'm just being a little too daring for myself)
15. It's only the end of May, there is time to make plans.

Papa

Life has been a killer lately. My grandpa is dying. He goes on hospice tomorrow. People who go on hospice usually die within 6 months. On the days that I am not in school, I go to his house at 8 in the morning and spoon feed him breakfast. Then I stay there with him, listening to make sure that he isn't coughing too hard, or choking on his own saliva. He sleeps alot, and even when he's awake, he stares off into space. When I'm there though, I sit in front of him, and he makes eye contact with me. He can't really speak much anymore. When I ask him a question, I have to say, "Say yes or no." And then he will respond. It takes a few seconds though. Sometimes the right words don't come out. The other day I asked him if he wanted his covers pulled up, and he pondered for a moment, and then said, "Five bucks an hour." I pulled the covers up anyways, and smiled.
A few days ago Papa went into the hospital with pneumonia. We didn't even know that he had it, he was brought to the hospital because he was dehydrated. Today I went to spend some time with him. It was just me and him. He held my hand while I told him about the homework I was doing, and that I was going camping. I asked him if he had ever been camping. He said no. I asked him if he had ever been in a tent, and he mustered up enough energy to say, "in the service." It was impressive because at this point its hard to tell what he remembers. I started to run out of things to tell him. But then I looked at him and looked at those familiar bushy eyebrows and smiled. I said, "You know Papa, I remember when you let me cut your eyebrows. I didn't do a very good job. But they grew back." He squeezed my hand and smiled and started to laugh a little bit. And then he continued to squeeze my hand and stare at me for a while longer. I started tearing up. So I had to look down. Then I said, "Well Papa, it's after 9, I should go home now so you can get some sleep." But he continued to hold my hand and wouldn't let go. He put his other hand on top of the hand he was already holding, and he continued to stare at me. And I stared right back, not knowing what to say. Trying to not think the thoughts that were going through my mind. Thoughts like, "What if this is the last time I see him?" or "What if he dies tonight after I leave? He will have died with nobody by his side." Then I started to think of the thoughts that were going through his head. And I started to think of how scary it must be to know that you will die soon. And to know that you're leaving your family. I believe in the Christian idea of heaven. And I believe that my grandpa will be there someday...soon. He will join my grandma who has been there for 10 years now. He asks about her sometimes. He forgets that she is gone. But it always comes back to him. And that must be hard.
After a while I knew I had to head for home, and so I made him let go of my hand so that I could give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed, letting out a healthy grunt. And with that I had to turn away and get my things. I was crying visibly by then. But I had to turn and say goodbye. I don't know if Papa could see the tears, I tried to not let him hear it in my voice. I hope he didn't. I want to be strong for him.But maybe if you cry a little, it shows them how much you love them. And how much they will be missed. When I got out of the room, I couldn't hold them back any longer. I walked out of the hospital looking down, including when I entered the elevator with five other people. Have you ever noticed how people look when they cry? Your face scrunches up, and it looks like you have a scary smile.

My grandpa has adored me since the day I was born. I can see it in his eyes and his smile when he sees me. Why else would you let your granddaughter cut off your eyebrows and your sideburns? And now when he is so close to the end of his life on earth, the love is pouring out of him...it makes it harder to say goodbye.

When I tell my friends about Papa being in the process of dying, they get a frown, and say, "Oh, I'm sorry." And it doesn't seem like enough. And then I have to step back, and realize that most people don't have as close of a relationship to their grandparents, as I have had with mine. For over half my life, Papa saw me every day of the week. In the third grade when I lost my favorite purple scarf, he drove me all the way to the bus company to search the bus I rode. He was always playing the crane game at the grocery store to win me a stuffed animal. When I got older we took trips together. And then I have friends who say, "Wouldn't he be better in a home?" And I say to them, "My grandpa didn't work 3 jobs his whole life to be put in a home." I have some friends who understand, and who I can tell have had similar relationships with their grandparents. My friend Chris talks about his grandpa and his old boat, and I know he misses him because he talks about him like he was gone not that long ago, but its been a while now. And my friend Dan has a tattoo of him and his grandpa on his back, and has created artwork in class about his grandpa taking him fishing. My friend Jolie calls her grandpa everyday to remind him to take his medication. My friend Julie lived with her grandma for a whole summer to help keep an eye on her after a surgery. These are the families I can relate to. The families who put their life on hold for the people who got them there in the first place.
Papa is my last grandparent. And since the other three left a while ago, I have grown very close to him. I always knew that losing him would be hard. And the time is now I guess...in the middle of a life that I was already struggling with.
It's amazing how I've realized that the drama that I create in my own life, all seems so unimportant when I realize that I'm losing someone who I hold so dear. And its not just me. My whole family is going through this. Even my brother takes two days a week to go and feed Papa. It makes me proud to be his sister.

Comic relief has always been a necessity in my family so I will end with this. It is a song my grandpa taught me when I was about ten years old.

"I like to go swimmin with bow legged women and swim between their legs. And when I go under it sounds like thunder and smelled like rotten eggs." :)