Memento of my past

I'm in a weird phase of life. I realize that all my recent blog posts have to do with this... but it's probably just because I can't stop processing it.

The past month and a half I have inhaled methods and assignments, and have exhaled lesson plans, sixth grade, and teacher texts. I use words like "schema" and "comprehension" and "contextual factors" in almost every conversation. When I close my eyes I think about Wednesdays in the classroom, the mountain of lesson plans, unit plans, and reflections waiting for me to complete. My artistic side is solely expressed in how creative I make my lesson plans (and sixth grade math lessons can only go so far...)

Since Grace has switched to 8 week sessions of three classes, I end up deeply immersed in a few subjects till they pepper every conversation and regulate my whole thought process. Last session it was all about prayer and creative writing. Last semester it was all about Ukraine and politics. And the sessions before that... middle school and more lesson planning. But I'm realizing that this session will carry over through the rest of my life. Because this is all about being a teacher. Which is, after all, what my life is supposedly going to be.

However... I miss the creative side of life. In high school I considered myself to be a musician. I considered myself to be artsy. I spent time with artsy people, and I loved it. But as college has progressed and I have gotten busier, I have slowly eliminated many of those parts of me. This year I quit playing in the orchestra. It was too much of a time commitment, and I didn't have time to practice. It's the first time since 5th grade that I don't see my violin at least once a week. Sure, it's tucked away under my desk, but it's strapped in, covered with cloth, and zipped away.  I no longer have a piano to play when I get stressed... and time for writing has dwindled.

I realize that I appear to have rejected most of who I have been for the majority of my life. In the day to day running around, I don't realize it's even happened. But sometimes I pause to ponder... and realize that I have become someone entirely different, and that I have left behind so much of my artsy side.

I am most hit with it when I take time to be around artists. When I stop to marvel at art or pottery from a true artist. When I listen to beautiful music. When I glance in the direction of my violin. When I see an overwhelming sunset. Sadness washes over me, and I mourn the loss of that artistic side.

This seems like a weird segue into explaining why I got a cartilage piercing... but. I did. And I think it has a lot to do with this more artistic side of me.

Some people see it as a rebellious streak. Perhaps it is the "good girl," "rule follower" in me taking the opportunity to rebel. But I don't think so. A cartilage piercing to me has always been a symbol of creativity... and a reminder of the people I loved to spend time with as they made beautiful things in art, in music... subtle but different.

It's something I have always wanted, but especially now since I so miss the artistic side of me... the part of me I have always loved, but have always been shy about.

I figured I might as well do it now...

A little uncertain but excited

A little bit of culture shock... Grace College to this :)

Matching piercings!