He has not left that open to us...

"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would be either a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to." --C.S. Lewis

Flaws

Flaws, we all have them. Some are more noticeable and worse than others. While some people may be arrogant or argumentative, others are dishonest or conceited. A few are perfectionists and some are stubborn. Where some are combative or selfish, others are humorless or vain. Not everyone has every flaw, but I'm pretty sure everyone has at least a couple. Too often we are overly critical of ourselves or we always see ourselves through rose-colored glasses. Either way we stick to the ends of the spectrum and get no where productive. A few years ago I was taught to always attempt to see others as their mother's see them...and my mom thinks I'm perfect, so you get the drift. Everyone on this earth is perfectly imperfect. We all have flaws. I want to try to learn to celebrate flaws, not judge them.

Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone...

**I originally wrote this post back in August, but never posted it. In light of Tiger Woods' recent struggles with the media, I've decided it is again relevant*

What makes any sex/money/politics/family/religious scandle ten times worse? A failed cover-up... Everyone loves a good cover-up right? Just ask Bill Clinton how much a cover up really works? Or Richard Nixon if you need a second opinion. And if you're still not sure, ask the Catholic Church if any sort of cover-up worked out for them. A failed cover-up only adds fuel to the fire and headlines to the news.

How many times have you promised not to tell a soul, heard a story and then turned right around and told someone else? (I know what you're thinking..."But I made them promise not to tell anyone, so I'm ok.") Its a social disease and everyone has it, NO ONE CAN KEEP A SECRET. We've all done it and I'm just as guilty. You hear a juicy, tantalizing story about someone and you just have to tell someone. I don't write this post because someone betrayed my secret trust, quite the contrary. For some reason people feel drawn to tell me their secrets. Sometimes people don't tell me their secrets and then think I don't know, but really someone already told me the secret. Confused yet? Basically, I know your secret. I contemplated making a list of all the super awesome secrets I know about people. I'm sure to get a few more readers, but a lot less friends. So your secret is safe with me...for now.

Don't take pity on me...

Life can be rough. I've been sick for the last month with a cold and then the H1N1 flu. I wrecked my car. I can't find a job...blah blah blah. Sadly, I even went as far to say, "I feel like Job" as a Facebook status. How pathetic am I? So I kinda thew together this little poem...I can't even remember the last time I wrote a poem.

Don't take pity on me.

Empathize for the sick and the dying who's days are marked.

Give solace to the soldiers who risk their lives for freedom.

Have mercy for those who wilt away in prisons for crimes long ago.

Don't take pity on me.

Pray for the starving children who awake and sleep each day with pangs of hunger.

Feel compassion for the homeless who sleep on cold concrete and search for shelter.

Have charity for those downtrodden who have no one to love.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my health.

I have my freedom.

I have my future.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my subsistence.

I have my home.

I have my family.

Don't take pity on me.

Cheating...

As most of you know, for the last two years I’ve been a substitute teacher. I don’t do it a whole lot, but its always an adventure when I do. If I were smarter, I would’ve written down all my funny and memorable experiences…but I didn’t. But yesterday, I got a good one…

I was subbing a high school English class. The students were taking a vocabulary quiz using a scantron. I’m at my desk, minding my own business, when I see out of the corner of my eye, some girl slyly slide the test and scantron into her notebook. I’ve seen this move before. I call it the “switch-n-sneak.” Here’s how the rouse works: Students take the test home, complete it, then sneak it back into the classroom. Maybe they’ll put it in the basket or hide it among papers on the teacher’s desk. All in the hope that the teacher thinks they’ve simply overlooked it among all the other papers they have. It’s a solid move when executed correctly. But sadly, this girl doesn’t understand how to play the game. She was WAY TOO sneaky and I caught on. I saw her do it…but decided to see what her plan was. So I wait until ‘everyone’ is done and count up the exams. Of course, I’m one short. So I play the idiot and ask, “Who isn’t done yet?” No one responds… “Ok, so I’m an exam short. Did someone not take it?” Silence…but I decide to wait this one out and let the guilt eat her alive. After about 30 seconds of awkward silence she says, “Oh, I was gone last time so I didn’t take it.” Again, playing the part of the idiot I say, “Oh. That makes sense. So did I give you the exam and scantron?” She, thinking she’s in the clear, says, “Nope. I just didn’t take one.” It crossed my mind to cause a major scene and jump up on my desk, scream “YOU LIE!”, grab the notebook from her desk and parade it around…but I declined. I let her think she had gotten away with it for a few more minutes. When the class had moved on to other things, I sat down in the desk next to her, smiled and said, “Ya…so I saw you sneak the test into your notebook. Lets not cause a scene, so how about you just give it back to me and we move on?” She got a wide eyed look on her face and then accepted my pardon by handing over the exam. Hopefully she learned a valuable lesson on lying, but I doubt it. She’ll probably just refine her game for next time.

Some students walk into a class I’m substitute teaching in and automatically assume I’m an idiot. I know from experience that some subs are idiots…I just try not to think of myself as one. They probably think they can get away with their little tricks and games. Most of them don’t realize that I was in high school not so long ago and I learned those tricks and games and substitute teaching has only refined my skills. The “switch-n-sneak” was in play long before this girl attempted it and it’ll be here long after. I know of tricks she hasn’t even dreamed of. I’ve heard of all the tricks, seen some in action and even practiced a few. This are some of the tricks I’ve encountered in one way or another:

• “The Sneak-n-switch”: cousin of the “switch-n-sneak.” It works in almost the opposite way. You somehow get a hold of the test before hand and sneak in your answers. Say you have an in-class essay. You write the essay beforehand, in the comfort of your home, and then simply turn that one in.

• “The Informant” or “The Accomplice”: where you have a friend who has the class before you and can relay information to you. They take the test, then relay information to you that you use when you take the test. This works best if the principle of reciprocity works: you need to have class before them somewhere in your schedule so you can return the favor.

• “The Morse Code”: This one is elaborate. You and a friend in the same class devise a system of sharing answers using a series of signals or taps on the desk. You tap out the number in question and then have a system taps to indicate the answers; A=1 tap, B=2 taps, etc. This one is tricky and can’t be used often.

• “The Hall Pass”: In this case, you store valuable information in you locker. Get stuck on a question, use the hall pass, find said answer. Again, this is a one-time deal. Unless you have a 44 oz. Mountain Dew on your desk…then maybe you can get away with two trips.

• “The Technology”: This one involves the sophisticated use of technology. Most teachers will let students listen to an iPod while taking a test. Classical music is always good to get the brain firing, right? Well, what if that “Classical Music: Track 1” is actually a series of recorded notes? Don’t laugh, I’ve seen it in action.

• “The Old School”: This is where you writes on some portion of your body, ie. Your hand, arm, ankle, etc. Or writing notes on a pencil, the brim of your hat, tongue of your shoe, etc. Again, these techniques are old school to the core.

• “The Pre-emptive Strike”: This is where you miss the class the day before the exam. Hence, most likely granting yourself one more day of study time and probably allowing you to use the “Informant” technique.

• “The Excuse”: “My computer wouldn't print off. I sent you the e-mail did you not get it? My boyfriend's uncle died. I don't know how to work Blackboard. I did the assignment but it deleted itself while I was trying to print it off. I'm just having some real serious personal issues right now that are too hard to talk about...” You get the idea…

Now, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I cheated my way through school, I didn’t. Although, I’ll be the first to admit that I have cheated on occasion but I think everyone has at one time or another. We’ve all, in a moment of weakness, looked over at our neighbor’s paper or asked a friend what was on the exam. Some people are better at it than others. Thats the sad thing. If that girl had an ounce of "game" she would've gotten away with it. She was a rookie...

I before E except after who the hell cares.

There a few things in this world I'm good at... like knowing all my state capitals, jumping off high things into extremely shallow water, and rolling my Rs... These things come naturally. I can almost do them with my eyes closed, and in the case of jumping into shallow water-I have to. One thing that I am awful at is spelling. My friend Spelling & I do not get along; he is my nemesis. Ever since I learned to talk, I could not spell. (You may find this strange since my last name is a such an awesome word to have to learn how to spell as a child. This is the exception.) I still have little tricks and mnemonic devices to remember how to spell words. B-E-A-utiful, Tom-mor-ow, etc. You know the drill. These little tricks are my crutch...

I once heard it said that a synonym is a word that you use when you don't know how to spell the word you were going to use. This must've been said about me because I am constantly replacing words with easier to spell ones.

You're probably wondering why this post isn't littered with misspelled words...Well, one day my spelling woes were changed forever...I discovered Spellchecker. Many historians say the printing press was the greatest invention in the history of the world...Without a doubt, Spellchecker is a close second. I could not survive without it. There are too many rules and exceptions to those rules that I can't keep them straight. Its always "i before e, except after c, unless..." and you lost me. I can't keep them straight...

I bring this all up because I typed a paper for school a few weeks ago. I had done a good job of having a decent thesis, transitions, conclusion, etc. I got my paper back and my professor docked me a full letter grade because I spelled his name wrong. His name is "Stephen" and I spelled it "Steven." (He still pronounces it with a "V" sound, bytheway.) I now make it a point to always call him SteFFFFFen. I should have been more careful but I still think its a stupid thing to get all worked up on. I've spent my entire life having my last name slaughtered and it doesn't bother me. Some people need to put their big-boy underwear on and do work...thats all.

Epiphany: A Divine Manifestation

Back in May I decided my life needed a little more spice to it. I began looking into buying a motorcycle. My dad called it "the stupidest idea he'd ever heard". Thats when I knew I had to do it. I bought myself a nice little gem of a starter bike to learn the ropes on, in the hopes of buying a sweet Harley sometime soon. For several months she went unnamed. I tried to force the name by looking up ideaa on the internet. Wisely, I consulted my motorcycle guru, Miss Jordan Rasband & took her advice. "Don't force it. It will come, just give it time." This is that story...

There are certain moments in history that you never forget where you were when you heard the news. I remember being at South Hill Middle School, roaming around the halls when I heard the news about 9/11. I remember reffing Jr. Jazz when the Space Shuttle Columbia crashed over Texas. I remember sitting in a hotel room in Mexico when the US invaded Iraq. I remember being in my basement when John Stockton hit "the shot" against Houston in '96. Recently, I remember being in Target when I heard the news that the late-great-King of Pop, Michael Jackson had died. I've been a fan of Michael Jackson ever since I first heard him. It was Smooth Criminal in my friend, Ted Ethington's basement in elementary school. Although I was a fan, it was casual at best. I had several of his CD's and a playlist on my iPod, but nothing too major. My King of Pop 'fanhood', if you will, was taken up a notch one special night after watching his live DANGEROUS concert in Bucharest (pure awesomeness & the work of a true genius). After leaving the company of Chelsee, I was riding around my nameless bike singing Michael Jackson tunes at the top of my lungs. (The sign of a true fan) Luckily I was wearing my helmet so no one was forced to run me off the road to save the world from my tone-deaf vocals. It was in the midst of singing one of my all-time favorites, that it hit me...

My motorcycle was Diana. Just as in the song, "Dirty Diana", I had told myself she wouldn't seduce me, but she did. It was as if she had spoken to me and whispered "I have the stuff that you want, I am the thing that you need." She was my "night lovin' thing" that "thing I could taunt." So I named my motorcycle Dirty Diana. It suits her well. We both know it wont last forever. She fulfills my needs and I rev her engine. She is my Dirty Diana. It may just be a summer fling until I move on to something better, but you never forget your first.

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