BeeKay's Blog

crafts, food, makeup, clothes, shoes, books, cats, life

Isn’t That Always the Way?

Ever have one of those moments where you put something away for safekeeping, then forgot where said safe space was?

Ever have one of those days when you don’t really care how nice your hair turned out (because you are going out into the frozen tundra and you’ll only be squishing said hair under your Marine Corps beanie) and it looks BANGIN’ … but days when your hair really really REALLY has to look good, it goes straight to hell, despite your amazing stylist and vast collection of hair care products?

Ever experienced the time you inventoried all the sewing projects (namely McCall’s M6664, view E, and McCall’s M6930, view C) lying around your craft room and think that JoAnn Fabric and Craft vomited all over it? Not to mention, you picked out the perfect colors (Amaryllis, Capri, and Ibis White) to paint said craft room and then realize how much crap will need to be moved before you can even think of busting out a paint brush?

Ever look at the store of unfinished cross stitch projects you have stashed near your comfy chair and wonder Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, how did this get so crazy?

That, dear readers, is the story of my life. Looks like I’m going to have to channel my internal warrior woman and get to work.

 

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Ode to a Most Excellent Teacher

12 October 2010

Dear Ms. [last name redacted]:

First, I’d like to apologize for not hand-writing this letter. Something this heartfelt should be hand-written (to my mind, anyway), but my handwriting has been atrocious lately, so I’ll spare you some squinting.

For the past several years, I had hoped to get in touch with you to tell you about the extremely positive influence you had on my life. Thanks to A[redacted], I am now finally able to do so.

You, along with my dad helped me to develop my understanding and appreciation of the written word, and its importance. I remember your teaching us that popular/ contemporary songs could be considered a form of poetry – that “Kiss the Dirt (Falling Down the Mountain” (INXS – me) and “Be My Girl (Sally)” (The Police – [redacted]) were poetic, owing to measure and rhyme. It encouraged an open-mindedness to what could be considered “poetry” and therefore “art.”

I always admired and hoped to emulate your zero-tolerance attitude to bullcrap. I like to think I’ve been successful in following your lead, for the most part.

Most importantly, I remember your confrontation of a very angry, troubled and lost young woman who was thinking of dropping out (no, going to drop out) of high school. You asked me to help you get something from the supply closet – once we were there you proceeded to give me one of the most brutal verbal beat-downs I’ve ever received, even now as a thirty-something adult. And you really didn’t say much – your disapproval was writ large across your face (I love the phrase “writ large”).

You told me you heard what I was considering doing (no, doing).

You told me it was the dumbest thing I could do.

You concluded by saying you would be extremely disappointed in me if I went through with it.

And then you walked out.

(You may have also ignored my presence for a day or two.)

That stung. And I’ll admit I was very angry with you for a while, but time gives us perspective, and eventually we understand.

Because you told me off, I stayed in school. Hated every moment of it, but received my diploma. I am sure I would have hated every second of working at Burger King but there you are.

Because you nurtured the seed my dad planted, I graduated with honors from West Chester with a degree in English (minor in creative writing).

Because you were my teacher, and taught me well, one professor said of a paper I wrote:

“This is one of the best undergraduate papers I have ever read; I consider it master’s level actually … excellent job! Be proud of it – it’s special.”

And another informed me that the quality of my paper on Arc d’X far exceeded the others in our class (and his other two classes on the subject), therefore my grade was being upped to an A+.

And mine was the only A in my class.

But most importantly, because you cared I was able to choose a path that allowed me to use my love of the written word to its fullest and have a career that, while sometimes frustrating, is extremely fulfilling. God only knows where I’d be if you hadn’t stepped in and given me what for.

I know this letter is 22 years too late, but I wanted you to know that you were one of my favorite teachers at [school name redacted], if not the favorite. That I appreciate the way you taught us, opening our minds to the beauty of the written word (because of this, I admit I can appreciate the skillful writing in The Story of O and cringe at the same time while reading it). That because of the foundation you helped lay, my love of English and my kung-fu writing skills have served me well in a rewarding professional career, from cellular telecommunications to venture capital to medical education/medical communications.

But most importantly, I want to thank you for caring about a girl who thought no one gave a crap. That means more to me than words can ever express (yes, even for someone who writes).

If you are ever in [redacted], you can find me most days (except Sundays and Mondays) at 602 [redacted] – perhaps my boss will allow me to play hooky so we can go to lunch; there are several lovely restaurants in my block.

Ha ha, my boss is me, so it’s do-able.

All best,

The BeeKay

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Back to Life, Back to Reality

As things were getting a little hectic chez moi, I took some time off for myself to decompress and chill out. It was nice while it lasted—I met some amazing people, had a lot of laughs, did a lot of soul-searching, drank a lot of coffee and smoked a lot of cigarettes (nasty habit that, I plan to quit once stuff is in order)—but alas, it came time to return to the real world.

Now I am back home and ready to go but there are so many things I want to do, but overachieving, overthinking, overanalyzing, and overdoing will do me no good.

So I’m going to take this day to relax and hang with Sarge for a bit, drink some cold diet
Coke, and get my new BlackBerry up and running.

Welcome_Home

Look at this sweet little furry guy!

But tomorrow it’s time to get down to brass tacks and get moving. And boy oh boy, there’s a lot I’m looking forward to doing but one thing at a time, right? I’m going to try my hand at creating some new types of art, and need to get back to crafting. But again, one thing at a time, one day at a time.

Many, many thanks to Judy, Stephanie, Joanne, Mary, Andrew, Scarlett, Amanda, Bernard, Mark and John I. for helping me dig deeper to connect the dots, reconnect with and center myself, and continue on this thing called life. Thanks to everyone else there who made my retreat as pleasant as could be.

Huge HUGE hugs and kisses to the wonderful men and women I met on this stage of my personal journey (in no particular order): Claire, Brenda, Meg, Heather, Charlie, Matthew, Patty, Courtney, Sherry, Jen J., Cruise Director Julie, Julie-from-Maryland, the-other-Jen, the list goes on. Thank you for all the laughs, fun times, and incredible conversations, and thank you for honoring me with your trust.

I firmly believe that blasting Prince tunes at top volume helps cure all ills, so here you go:

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