Thursday, April 30, 2009

you're magic

This is one of my favorite songs in the entire world. Top five at least. It is a pretty obscure choice, and I would be willing to bet that you've never heard it. It's precious and wonderful. I wish I could sing this song to each of my friends, to remind you how incredibly perfect and brilliant you are... but Jason is a much better singer than me. So please, enjoy. This song is for you.

Friday, April 24, 2009


This has been a ridiculous week. No really. This time, last Friday I had just gotten out of an interview at Lakeview Middle School that I was absolutely convinced went terribly. I was nervous and genuinely unqualified for the job. I knew that dozens of people had applied for the position, which only heightened my fear. I do not thrive in competition. When it came time for my interview I was ushered into a room with five people surrounding this long intimidating wooden table. I was asked to sit at the head, and basically answer questions about my educational philosophy, disciplinary strategies, organizational skills, and student relations in rapid fire succession, as these five strangers furiously scribbled notes onto their papers. My voice was quivering, my hands were shaking, and I kept tugging at my fingers in an effort to stop myself from pulling out my hair. I finished the interview and I was quite certain I had sweated through the three layers of shirts I was wearing. I shook everyone’s hand, and was told a flippant “we’ll be in touch” as I left the room. I was shaking all the way to the car, and then after collapsing into the car seat, I called my mother.

“Hey Meg. Soooo, how did it go?”
“Well, ummmm, it was the single most terrifying experience of my life. I hate job interviews. I don’t think I blew them away or anything, so let’s just chalk it up to practice for future scenarios..."

About an hour later I was sitting on Kate’s porch hanging out with Jahred, doing basically nothing. I went to check my e-mail, and I noticed something strange. Two jobs that I had been signed up for at Legacy Middle School (the school where I did my senior internship and substitute teach most frequently) had been cancelled. This was extremely bizarre, because they were two different teachers on two completely different weeks. Well, to make a very long story short, after some phone calls I was able to say with certainty that I had been put on the “substitute exclusion list.” Basically, I was blacklisted from subbing there. And no, they don’t have to provide me a reason. Anyways, this really hurt me. This was the second time I had been screwed over by this school. (Remember that unfortunate case of nepotism?) I felt the tears swelling up, and instead of letting Kate (shhhh, don’t tell her that I have emotions) and Sonny see me cry, I left the house in a hurry and drove home to drink a lot of wine and crawl under my covers.

Saturday morning I woke up totally discouraged. Depressed, even. Nothing was working out. I couldn’t find a job anywhere, my one semi-steady income was just taken away from me without reason or precedent, and my mom and I got in a fight over the phone.

Skip to Monday morning. I wake up and log onto Kelly Services to look for substituting jobs outside of Legacy. Within 5 minutes I had found work for the rest of the week. That has never happened to me before. Ever. Then these words came to my head "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.” In that moment an overwhelming peace filled my heart, and I knew everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know how, but I just knew. Shoving logic and reason aside, I relinquished myself to the peace and let my soul breathe for a moment.

Skip to Wednesday morning. I arrive at the UCF campus at 8:30am for the College of Education job fair. There are about 38768726 million other education majors attending. I’m standing in this line that extends out of the door and around the corner, and fighting the urge to just turn on my heels and leave. I hate big crowds. Despise. Loathe. But I remain, because reason and responsibility always prevail in me.

I finally enter the gymnasium and after signing in, I pause by the Page Private School table and survey the room. I overhear the Page woman telling an eager group of elementary education majors, “no, I’m sorry... we have no positions available at this time.” (Just as an aside, I can’t help but judge all elementary education majors. I know this is terrible, but it spawns from four years of volatile frustration at being forced to attend classes where they tell us that giving “gold stickers to good students” is an effective method for classroom management. Ummm, if I give a 13-year-old boy that attends public school in Orlando a gold star for behaving well, they will probably cuss me out.) Anyways, I’m standing there, rolling my eyes and smirking to myself, and the woman says “we are actually looking for a middle school language arts teacher, is anyone interested in that?” Ummm, perfect. My passion. I raise my hand, and of course I am the only one in the group because honestly, who in their right mind WANTS to teach in middle school? So the woman glances quickly over my resume and tells me to stick around so she can talk to me. I stand nearby and listen to her talk to another girl who had apparently done her internship at Legacy Middle School as well, and the woman from Page says “Oh, do you know Tammi Jones?” The girl didn’t, so I interrupted the conversation (the look I received from this girl for interrupting her probably could have melted cement). Ignoring her obvious disdain (C'mon girl, it's a job fair. You need tougher skin) I told the woman that Tammi was my supervising teacher and I pulled my recommendation letter from Tammi out of my portfolio, and hand it to her. At this point the woman dismisses all the other girls, and basically begins interviewing me on the spot. Apparently Tammi worked at Page for about 15 years, and knows the entire faculty, and is even best friends with the Director of the school. Ummm, perfect.

I leave the job fair with a promise from the woman that I will be receiving a phone call in the very near future. Discouragement evaporated. I talk to Tammi on the phone on my way home, and she assures me that if I really want the job… it’s mine. She carries a lot of weight with the administration there, and with her recommendation I am basically a shoo-in.

Skip forward to today. Around 4 o’clock this afternoon I receive a call from Lakeview Middle School telling me that they are going to “recommend me for the position.” Really? Really??? The gifted position is technically only till the end of the school year, with the possibility of renewal next year. The Page Private School position will begin in the fall. Basically, within one week I went from tears on Kate’s porch about the futility of a job in education, to possibly having two positions to choose from.

Are we serious right now???
Ummm, thank you Jesus.

P.S. Kate and Alecia, please feel free to speak scripture verses over me as often as you like. That shit apparently works.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

yes, yes, yes

"In his heart a man plans his course,
but the Lord determines his steps.
The lips of a king speak as an oracle,
and his mouth should not betray justice.
Honest scales and balances are from the Lord;
all the weights in the bag are of his making."
-Proverbs 16:9-11

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


This poem is for Jenna and Bryan. A tribute to the countless hours spent on the Bren Lee porch, the hundreds of cigarettes smoked, the millions of tears and hearty laughter that the crumbling walls have seen. And of course, wine. Lots and lots of wine.

Dripping shards of yellow light
Streaming through these open blinds
Sounds drone hum of city round
Accede to sleep, refuse to fight
Dreaming dreams. The panicked sort
Of friendships lost and love alone
Behind closed eyes I see this sign
Painful looks and time cut short
Pretty girls with perfumed hearts
The boys who love them too
Join here in this final dance
To celebrate arm in arm with you
Whistle and lyric and laughter bound.
In witching hour, midst swirling storms.
Toothy grins from cheek to cheek.
We dance, we dance! Across your face
Over you and under you,
We spin and tap and clap in time.
Treading and twirling on violent stilts,
Aloft our parting hearts.

Monday, April 20, 2009

library silence

"He wondered how it would be, to lie in the biggest, dustiest library silence of all, dreaming endless, thoughtless dreams behind gummed-down eyelids, dressed forever in your Sunday suit. No worries about money, success, fear, joy, pain, sorrow, sex, or love. Absolutely zero. No father, mother, girlfriend or lover. The dead are orphans. No company but the silence of a moth’s wing. An end to the agony of movement. The body in peace, stillness, and order. The perfect darkness of death."

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

how pleasant and fitting

Dear Jesus,

Prayer is hard for me. Despite knowing better, I still feel like I am talking to the wall, my bed sheets, or the back of my eyelids. It seems that whatever inanimate object I am facing at the time tends to become the recipient of my words, and then I can’t help but feel a little foolish. My thoughts always come out better in words on a screen or scrawled in a notebook anyways. They become more cohesive when tangibly tapped out on a keyboard. In writing, my thoughts flow most freely, often moving through my mind faster than my fingertips. Which is a good thing, right Jesus? I mean, I have a lot to tell you, and we desperately need to catch up because I've been seriously sucking at this lately. So this may not be poetry, and it probably won’t be eloquent or beautiful. But it is truth. And I mean every single word.

Jesus, thank you for placing certain people in my life, and giving me the wisdom to trim away those that do not edify my spirit or encourage my growth. I have beautiful friends and I praise you for your artistic touch in creating them each unique and wonderful. Thank you for the gift of discernment and I pray that you will help me to use this gift on myself a little more often.

Thank you for reminding me that even though I am called to love everyone as you have loved them, that does not mean that I need to invest my energy and resources into people you have not ordained me to be in community with. There is a season for everything. Thank you for the talents that you have blessed me with, and I beg for you to continue breathing life and passion into them. I do not want fall back into the apathetic laziness and complacency of the past. You deserve more than that.

Thank you for your Word, and how even on the roughest of days I can open its pages and my spirit is rejuvenated. Thank you for challenging me every day. It feels as though each moment is presented with a new struggle, in addition to my consistent usuals, but you take these moments to teach me your love. Thank you for making me increasingly aware of these lessons.

Thank you for the beauty of your creation and your people. Mostly Jesus, thank you for being patient with me. I always seem to remember your incomprehensible grace, unconditional love, and your unwavering faithfulness... but your simple patience is what really astounds me. Because I can be a brat sometimes, but you always wait patiently for me to come around.
And Jesus... I think I’m coming around.

I love you,

How good it is to sing praises to our God,
how pleasant and fitting to praise him!
Psalms 147:1

Monday, April 13, 2009


Sometimes I just need a little perspective.

"Your word, O Lord, is eternal;
it stands firm in the heavens.
Your faithfulness continues through all generations;
you established the earth, and it endures.
Your laws endure to this day,
for all things serve you."

Today was a good day. Really.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

good friday

His silhouette rests atop the hill, framed by ashen clouds and a bloodstained sky. The wooden planks reside on the skull-shaped rock, Golgatha. Flanked on either side by common criminals, he gives himself for such as these. Between them he hangs, his arms raised from his side as crimson blood streams down his forehead, mixing and dancing with the sweat and bitter vinegar. A violent shout escapes cracked lips as his face winces in the agony of death, oppressed by the weight of the whole earth and its one thousands sins. Tears do not escape his eyes as the scorching heat of hell evaporates them in a gust. Demons shriek and the devil rejoices as both the worlds of supernatural collide upon his chest. Desperation in his voice, he screams "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” The sky blackens, there are no stars to brighten this night. No holes to the heavens. Nothing remains but the coldest emptiness as the Creator averts his gaze, my human sin and filth too much for the Father bear. My Savior is left alone in death.

"When he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent. And the graves were opened." -Matthew 27:50-52 KJV

feel good music

I woke up all wrong today.
My attempt to get right.

Ummm, so great.

Friday, April 10, 2009


Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon's gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall
Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop
In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage
In the morning they wore each other's face

-Ted Hughes "Lovesong"

Oh, to write like this...

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

happy place

I was told by a friend to start writing happier things. I tend to be more artistically inspired by the darkness, but that is certainly not an accurate representation of my personality. So even though this is mostly uninspired, I am working on implementing discipline into my art, and not just waiting around for inspiration. So here you go... this is my happy place.

This is my sanctuary. Surrounded by the photographs of my smiling family and friends. One hundred books line these shelves, most of the pages I have read. The color palette is reminiscent of the ocean, soft blue and green pastels. The wind drifts lazily through the open window catching the white curtains in its unpredictable wake. They flutter and float in the breeze, the sunlight streaming through them casting a glow on the whole room. Incense burns from the shelf, filling the space with the sweet smoky musk of lavender. Jewelry spills out of the box, and brightly-colored scarves and purses hang from their hooks on the wall. Dallas is curled on his corner of the bed. He stretches lazily in the patch of sun that he claims as his own. The iPod plays Sufjan quietly from the nightstand as I tap out these words. Memories in every corner, and upon a desk of organized clutter. A stack of novels and my bible are piled on the unused side of the bed, forever my nighttime companion. Lying on my stomach sprawled diagonally across my bed, I survey my small world. My safe zone and my haven. My undisturbed sanctuary.

I am queen.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


She smashes it. Again and again. Splinters and fragments hurtling through the air like tiny spears, miniature daggers. A warfare of sorts. She strikes again, her fist bloody, the remaining shards streaked in red. The color immortal. The liquid of life. She smashes it until she can no longer see, her face broken into pieces, melting and deformed. Finally a true reflection.

Sunday, April 5, 2009


I tuck you even further away
Like the others deeper past.
Be still, admidst the swirling
Bright lights and smoky clouds.
I saw your face between the shards
Of light and smiles and dance.
Eyes blinked twice, confused and torn
And just like that you were gone
Which best, for hence I sleep tonight
And find my quiet peace again.
I exhale you on these whispering lips
Your name escapes and flees.
Released into the atmosphere
To assemble itself again.
I tuck you even further 'way
Exhale you on my breath.
I wash my hands, both polished clean
Rub my eyes. Your image gone,
I turn my head to someone new
And smile again, no longer you.

fractured star

Thursday, April 2, 2009


Seven Social Sins

Politics without Principle.
Wealth Without Work.
Pleasure Without Conscience.
Knowledge without Character.
Commerce without Morality.
Science without Humanity.
Worship without Sacrifice.
-Mahatma Gandhi
Dwell on these. Please, soak them in with me. Consider how they affect our world, our relationships, our government. Love does not equal hand-outs. Faith does not allow for laziness. Grace does not relenquish personal responsibility. We do not own morality, nor is it assumed based on our beliefs. Worship cannot be mere words, action is required. Sometimes we must check ourselves, lest we get wrapped up in false ideals and popular trends.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

one night stand

First of all, I readily admit that I don’t know everything about politics. I only wish I was as well-versed and could explain my thoughts with as much eloquent fortitute as my brilliant friends Nathan Alan and Shawn Romano. However, despite my obvious inadequacies I would still like to offer up my opinion on the state of our country, be it ever so humble. Please disagree if you like.

During elections I tend to get very involved, battling out my voting decision as if my very life and soul depended on it. Perhaps it is because I am one of the naïve people who cling to the belief that my vote actually can make a difference. Or perhaps it's just because I love to argue. I spent hours analyzing the pros and cons; weighing each topic based on its relevance and moral importance. I watched every presidential and vice presidential debate. I read articles, I argued with anyone that would listen, I researched, I debated on facebook notes (which got me in trouble). In the end I voted for Bob Barr. No, I don’t consider my vote a cop-out or a waste. I simply could not bring myself to vote for McCain (or the frightening possibility of Palin) and there was something about Barack Obama that I just did not trust, although I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I still can't. So because I generally feel like Republican and Democratic parties are just two versions of the same clumsy government establishment, I decided to use my vote as a meager protest against a faulty bi-partisan system by going Third Party, hoping that others would follow suit. Perhaps future elections will take notice.

I did consider voting for Obama though. Most of my friends did, some whom I respect greatly. I kicked the idea around my head for a couple of weeks, despite a multitude of threats from my father should I choose to vote Democrat. Obama oozes charm and charisma from every pore on his body. His voice is steady and controlled, strong and reassuring. He makes me want to believe his words, to hope for this undefinable 'change.' The eloquence and uplift of his speeches, combined with his personal grace and dignity still gives me goosebumps. I bought into the hype. But my cynical nature kept me from jumping into his camp. He seemed too good to be true; he is only human, but his words conveyed otherwise. I think my cynical side was correct. Thus far his saccharine promises have left me feeling empty and a bit scared. The novelty has worn off and there is so much work to be done. I know that miracles do not happen overnight and Obama has only been in office for two months. But everything that I have seen thus far has left nothing but a sick, hollow feeling in my stomach.

I’m starting to feel like I’ve been taken advantage of. Like President Obama bought us all strong drinks at the bar, whispered sweet nothings into our ear, and finally took the American people back to his place. But now the sun is up, the alcohol has worn off, and I am left only with bitter disillusionment and a hangover.

So Mr. President, you smooth-talked and dazzled the American people into your bed... now what do you plan to do?