We came into the class not knowing each other at all. I remember walking into class, I'm not sure if it was the first or second day of class, after hiking up all 6 flights of stairs to get to the fourth floor (yeah 72 stairs up and down with a 15 pound backpack every Tuesday and Thursday - its good times), I saw this girl sitting in "my row" of any classroom.
My row is the back row on the left side. I sit in the back because I like to look at people and know where they are. I don't like having my back to them. Maybe its deep rooted trust issues, maybe its deep rooted self esteem, maybe I've watched too much Alias, I'll never know, nor do I really care. I just do it. The whole sitting on the left side thing I have no clue about, I just noticed it. (I tend to sit on the left side in church too - go figure).
Anyway this girl's name was Callie I would later find out and before class commenced another girl sat down on the row too, and ate an apple. This was unusual. This was my last first class for my first semester at University of North Carolina at Greensboro, and I had yet to find the back row so popular.
The apple eater I soon discovered was named Ally. Yes, Callie and Ally. I think the teacher just got them straight last week, if they "switched names" on her though I don't think she'd notice. In her defense, she has a lot of students in that class alone.
Later on Amanda joined our group, with her newspaper. Yes again, Amanda sits in class and reads the paper, but I swear she can put it down and be (or sound like) the most well versed person in the class. Its a skill.
So there we are in the back. Amanda, Priscilla, Callie, and Ally, and let me tell you, we have some good times, mostly because the Good Lord gave each and everyone of us a dry sense of humor.
Let me tell you about this class. Its British Lit. I love the poems, and novels, the essays not so much. Its rare I read and comprehend those. Callie tends to not put much into concentrating on any reading, Ally seems to be somewhere in-between, but spends time putting mini post it bookmarks at each reading with the date and color coded to the section, so she looks super impressive. Amanda will read or not read, but she always reads the paper and always sounds intimidating so you can't ever tell.
I love these girls. I love that we sit in our corner in the back of the classroom offering Amanda and I's occasional insight to the conversation and do our own "thing".
As previously stated Amanda has a newspaper, I doodle house blueprints or list names (today Callie and I had a competition to think of the most names of one letter - I missed some really obvious ones like Dylan or Dwight! I mean come on). Callie organizes her planner and doodles everything and anything all over her notes. Ally eats her Granny Smith apple. Like clockwork.
If we are supposed to split up in groups of three to four, we've got it covered immediately. Inevitably Amanda and I will get into a debate, Ally will pull out her over organized anthology and Callie will tell everyone to shut up and get out of the group (while she's smiling - real hardcore I know). This class is one of my favorites for three reasons and they are as follows:
1) We get to read fun literature and learn about - I'm an English Major
2) I love the teacher and her style and approachability
3) Amanda, Callie, and Ally
Thanks you three, for invading my back row and being my friends. You make me laugh every Tuesday and Thursday for the hour and 15 minutes at the end of the day. 'Precsh.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Dear Little Sister,
An important part of this transfer process is leaving those who I hold dear, and I realized tonight that one of the hardest things about this process is not being able to be there for my little sister.
If you don't know her, I am sorry for you. I am so insanely proud to get to be her sister, just ask me. Not only because of the things she does, because she is more driven than I'll ever be (and it never ceases to impress and challenge me) but because of who she is, her person. I can literally not imagine what my life would be like with out that happy addition to the family at the end of 1993.
No matter how many times we fought, (and I spoiled her dramatic walk outs with my need for long talk-outs ) we grew together in that awful yellow room with that rainbow fan, and for all the times I made you feel inferior, or inadequate, I'd like to say that I never meant to, but sometimes I probably did, though I have a hard time imagining it now, I apologize.
I treasure the time I got to spend with you, just the two of us at home, I miss it more than I can ever communicate with you. There are moments out here where I just wish I could be there standing back and cheering you on in everything you do, and just so you know I am, from way back 5 hours away.
I am sorry I am a terrible phone communicator and have resolved to do better, because plain and simple, I miss you.
I can not wait to watch and see the life you live, no matter what happens. I wish I could just be a positive encouragement to your life, but I know I stink at it without even meaning to, but know that you are amazing and beautiful and I am privileged to know you and honored to be your sister.
I love you so much!
Your sister,
P.J (and you should see the ones I'm wearing right now - whew! you'd have some comments : )
If you don't know her, I am sorry for you. I am so insanely proud to get to be her sister, just ask me. Not only because of the things she does, because she is more driven than I'll ever be (and it never ceases to impress and challenge me) but because of who she is, her person. I can literally not imagine what my life would be like with out that happy addition to the family at the end of 1993.
No matter how many times we fought, (and I spoiled her dramatic walk outs with my need for long talk-outs ) we grew together in that awful yellow room with that rainbow fan, and for all the times I made you feel inferior, or inadequate, I'd like to say that I never meant to, but sometimes I probably did, though I have a hard time imagining it now, I apologize.
I treasure the time I got to spend with you, just the two of us at home, I miss it more than I can ever communicate with you. There are moments out here where I just wish I could be there standing back and cheering you on in everything you do, and just so you know I am, from way back 5 hours away.
I am sorry I am a terrible phone communicator and have resolved to do better, because plain and simple, I miss you.
I can not wait to watch and see the life you live, no matter what happens. I wish I could just be a positive encouragement to your life, but I know I stink at it without even meaning to, but know that you are amazing and beautiful and I am privileged to know you and honored to be your sister.
I love you so much!
Your sister,
P.J (and you should see the ones I'm wearing right now - whew! you'd have some comments : )
Friday, October 22, 2010
Steve's Friendly BP
Oh God, you are incredible with how you take care of me.
I drove to the gas station thinking once again of the pathetic estate of my bank accounts (checking and savings) and how I do not feel as much panic as in the past and maybe I'm finally learning to trust God completely with it. He's taken care of me every step of the way through this Greensboro business and grown me so much along the way. I get out of the car to put my ten dollars in the tank. My first mistake lies in my accidentally grabbing the silver gas to fill up my car, which I notice before pumping any into the tank. After successfully filling it with the green I realize my second mistake. My car is locked, and my keys are lying on the passenger seat. At the moment I am having trouble recalling even getting out of the car.
I have a cold, and my head is not spinning very quickly right now.
I think I stand there for a moment and walk into the "office" of this BP station. An older women calls out a friendly, "Hello, how are you?" I respond with at half-hearted, "Hi." Then walk to the counter, where I can make eye contact past the lottery display, "I just locked my keys in the car." The response was an immediate sympathetic, "Oh."
Without going in to too great a detail, she and her husband, who apparently owned and ran the business, determined that they could not get my car open without damaging the lock system more than I wanted to pay for. They asked if I had a spare key, which I do at the apartment, the keys to which where on my key ring, on the passenger seat. My roommate has keys, but she was at school and my cell phone, with her number on it, was also locked in the car. They told me to come in and think about it, then I recalled that my dad had Meg's number in his phone, and I have all of his numbers memorized. So they let me use the phone to call him. He gave me Meg's number, but thought he had better call him, so I don't use more of the very nice people's long distance. While I sat and waited for Meg or my Dad to call back. I engaged in a little small talk with the lady running the register. I learned that this is a family run establishment, a gas station and repair shop. I learned that she was referred to as "Momma" by her husband who ran it, and she asked one of the younger generation of workers to go ask his brother if he had any fives. I also learned that I can get my car inspected and my oil changed there, for prices very similar to my beloved Napa Auto Parts store in Andrews, run by the dear Mr. Hicks.
As I sat there looking, I'm sure, extremely pathetic, what with the sniffing and coughing, I spoke to various workers about why I was sitting there. One man in particular, a forty something with a gotee, told me to look on the bright side, that my weekend could only get better. After less than ten minutes of waiting that very same man became the agent of change that made it so. He came walking in with a smile and held up my keys, "These what you looking for?" Turns out that he had "gone to his buddy's place" who had a kit, and got my door opened while I sat in the office. Needless to say, I was very very thankful, and expressed it as best I could. They told me not to worry about it, and gotee man said simply, "just come back next time you need gas." I assured him I would come back next time I needed anything for my car and drove away, calling off my dad and Meg.
Let me tell you, through this thing I sat praying that Meg would be able to answer the phone. I just (30 seconds ago) got a text from her saying she was in class and didn't get any of the messages. Even while I sat there, I did not feel more than an inkling of panic, because I knew that God knew that I literally did not have the money to pay a locksmith, so I was trusting Him, to figure out a way. And he did. Needless to say I am now a loyal customer of Steve's Friendly BP (oil spill or not) because those people deserve my business, as scant as it may be.
"Our God is greater, Our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other. Our God is healer, awesome in power, Our God, Our God....and if Our God is for us, then who could ever stop us? And if Our God is with us, then what could stand against? Into the darkness You shine, out of the ashes we rise."
I drove to the gas station thinking once again of the pathetic estate of my bank accounts (checking and savings) and how I do not feel as much panic as in the past and maybe I'm finally learning to trust God completely with it. He's taken care of me every step of the way through this Greensboro business and grown me so much along the way. I get out of the car to put my ten dollars in the tank. My first mistake lies in my accidentally grabbing the silver gas to fill up my car, which I notice before pumping any into the tank. After successfully filling it with the green I realize my second mistake. My car is locked, and my keys are lying on the passenger seat. At the moment I am having trouble recalling even getting out of the car.
I have a cold, and my head is not spinning very quickly right now.
I think I stand there for a moment and walk into the "office" of this BP station. An older women calls out a friendly, "Hello, how are you?" I respond with at half-hearted, "Hi." Then walk to the counter, where I can make eye contact past the lottery display, "I just locked my keys in the car." The response was an immediate sympathetic, "Oh."
Without going in to too great a detail, she and her husband, who apparently owned and ran the business, determined that they could not get my car open without damaging the lock system more than I wanted to pay for. They asked if I had a spare key, which I do at the apartment, the keys to which where on my key ring, on the passenger seat. My roommate has keys, but she was at school and my cell phone, with her number on it, was also locked in the car. They told me to come in and think about it, then I recalled that my dad had Meg's number in his phone, and I have all of his numbers memorized. So they let me use the phone to call him. He gave me Meg's number, but thought he had better call him, so I don't use more of the very nice people's long distance. While I sat and waited for Meg or my Dad to call back. I engaged in a little small talk with the lady running the register. I learned that this is a family run establishment, a gas station and repair shop. I learned that she was referred to as "Momma" by her husband who ran it, and she asked one of the younger generation of workers to go ask his brother if he had any fives. I also learned that I can get my car inspected and my oil changed there, for prices very similar to my beloved Napa Auto Parts store in Andrews, run by the dear Mr. Hicks.
As I sat there looking, I'm sure, extremely pathetic, what with the sniffing and coughing, I spoke to various workers about why I was sitting there. One man in particular, a forty something with a gotee, told me to look on the bright side, that my weekend could only get better. After less than ten minutes of waiting that very same man became the agent of change that made it so. He came walking in with a smile and held up my keys, "These what you looking for?" Turns out that he had "gone to his buddy's place" who had a kit, and got my door opened while I sat in the office. Needless to say, I was very very thankful, and expressed it as best I could. They told me not to worry about it, and gotee man said simply, "just come back next time you need gas." I assured him I would come back next time I needed anything for my car and drove away, calling off my dad and Meg.
Let me tell you, through this thing I sat praying that Meg would be able to answer the phone. I just (30 seconds ago) got a text from her saying she was in class and didn't get any of the messages. Even while I sat there, I did not feel more than an inkling of panic, because I knew that God knew that I literally did not have the money to pay a locksmith, so I was trusting Him, to figure out a way. And he did. Needless to say I am now a loyal customer of Steve's Friendly BP (oil spill or not) because those people deserve my business, as scant as it may be.
"Our God is greater, Our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other. Our God is healer, awesome in power, Our God, Our God....and if Our God is for us, then who could ever stop us? And if Our God is with us, then what could stand against? Into the darkness You shine, out of the ashes we rise."
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