I know right? Who'd want to be like a duck? We should all be so fortunate.
I was once compared to the duck. I was thrown back(aka caught by surprise) and even slightly insulted. Oh I've been compared to many an animal species. When standing in bathroom stalls after doing my business and my head pops up over the top of the stall door it's been said I'm like a giraffe in the zoo - and I chuckle when I think about that comment. It does have to look comical to others making the observation. I was called a cow during one ball game when I boxed out three members of the other team to get the rebound. When set it was difficult to move me and I have to thank a good coach for teaching me that stance. Yeah...well, cow or no..I got the ball and you didn't, young grasshopper. Been referred to as a Daddy Long Legs - don't know where they got that one. 38 inch inseam is common is it not? No? That explains why jeans are so hard to find. But a duck? A duck? For the real?
I'm not fond of fowl...not even a little bit, not even at all. When referring to the Albatross in prior posts it was the only uncoordinated animal I could think of -granted the albatross is graceful in flight...on the ground not so much. If the Albatross were as uncoordinated in flight as it is on the ground, there'd be no Albatross to compare to. It's the justice of nature, I suppose. (there's the randomness again...just pops up outta nowhere, doesn't it?) Anyway, I'm not fond of fowl. Thus of all the animals to have been compared to, a duck was the most surprising and at the time I didn't see how I was even close to the choice of many a Christmas dinner.
The one who compared me to a duck was one of my closest college friends. She hailed from New York. You recall how I mentioned I was backward? Coming from New York into Colorado she felt pretty backward -even lost at times (or maybe she thought we were backwards and lost). She was a barrel racer and stayed in line all night after a Vince Gill concert just to let him know they did exist. He'd made a comment during the concert that went something like "it just doesn't happen, like a barrel racer from New York". Vince is a good guy, though, and after being introduced to a barrel racer from New York he welcomed the revelation with his infamous smile and signed his 'thank you' on her album.
It was she that compared me to a duck and she holds the title of being the only one to EVER refer me as such. The reference to the duck was just one of many lessons I learned from my New York barrel racing buddy.
First semester college was something else. I was taking 18 credit hours, playing volleyball, maintaining a high gpa, and trying to keep up with the craziness of dorm life. It was interesting to say the least and still I was...different from everyone else. I can't recall exactly what had happened, what had been said, or what had been done. A LOT happens in college, you know. Anyway, I remember turning to her and she saying those words, "Shorty, you're like a duck." Never wanting to look stupid for not understanding I said, "Thanks" and smiled so she wouldn't see my confusion. She responded with a "You don't know why do you?" To which I had to honestly reply, "Yeah...of course I do...it's because..." *sigh* "No...no I don't know why." I had all my teeth, I didn't play hockey (of course I was thinking about the movie), and I didn't fly south for the winter. So why a duck? Of ALL things, a duck.
She then educated me on the worth of the duck and the lessons learned from the lowly water fowl. The lesson is as follows:
When water hits a duck it rolls right off without affecting the duck's direction at all. No matter whether it be a drop of water or a bucket of water, nothing of the fluid remains on the duck. It's as though nothing at all happened to the duck. Its path and character remain unchanged. In a storm it is the last of the creatures to take up refuge from the weather. Why? Because the duck isn't affected by the onslaught of the storm. The storm water and wind just roll right off the back and into the wake of the cruising fowl. The duck's head is held high and its path, as it treads water, is ahead of it. It even seems pleased in the solitude of bearing the storm. Further more, in domestic ducks, it can be noticed that when water from a hose is sprayed on them they do not turn and run as many an animal will. You spray a dog or cat and they drop their head and tuck their tails and flee but not a duck. A duck will actually turn into the spray of water, raise up as tall as it can and puff out its chest. Its head remains high while it receives the pummeling of H2O. It doesn't fight back, it doesn't run, it just takes the brunt of the blow. Then, when the spraying subsides, it does as ducks will do. It gives a little shake of its feathers and continues on with its path unaffected by the hosing.
I don't recall if I had been worth the compliment back then and I don't know if I have been worthy of the comparison since but now as I recall the conversation, I am sure I want to be more like a duck. I want life's storms to wash right off my back rather than build up on it, causing it to bow or even break. I want to let things go as a duck will the water. I want to be able to turn and face the onslaught of life's pummeling with my head up, shoulders back. Then - when it is finished - I want to shake it off and continue on my path unaffected at all by the attack. That's not to say there won't be times fighting back won't be necessary. Any one who's ever faced an angry duck knows their capable of hostility but it's usually in defense of their little ones or their home. Hostility, is the last possible resort for the duck. When it's all said and done, their anger - like everything else duck related - is quickly shaken and forgotten.
The highly educated might say it's because they are simple minded animals and do not have a greater understanding of what is happening to them. They let go because they do not grasp the need to hold on. A shame we human beings in all our complexity can't do something so simple as let go. Maybe the duck - in all it's simplicity - really has it going on.
So there you have it. I wanna be, wanna be, wanna be like...a duck.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Focus...focus...focus...oh look it's me
A good friend of mine said my first blog was "Very all over the place." That made me chuckle because that was inadvertently where I was going. That quote - in a nutshell - describes me. I am ALL OVER THE PLACE! I went to college to become a veterinarian and walked out an English teacher. People have asked me 'How does that happen?" In answer to that...I have no answer to that. It's just how I work. Or how I have worked. (I'm currently in the 3 step process of narrowing down my interests and focusing my forward motion on life. I'm not sure what the 3 steps are as I'm looking into it still but aren't all cures of insanity 3 steps? I'm hoping so cuz counting to 4 might be a bit of a challenge.)
And I gotta thank this friend because she inspired some focus into my second post. I was debating with myself on what I should write next, whether it be some little tidbit of a story I'd gone through in past times or something more recently experienced. When I read her comment I thought...yeah, I'll just go with that. I'm all over the place. I sometimes call myself a walking talking oxymoron - for those of you that know me DO NOT miss the 'oxy' in front of the 'moron'.
For the past five years I taught English and Vocational Agriculture. During my 2nd year of teaching English and Vo-Ag I was told there were only 2 such teachers in the nation. The stats were helped by my being a woman and teaching at opposite ends of the spectrum. I can't verify the numbers but I can well believe it. Most educators are more focused. I've also taught JAG (Jobs for America's Graduates). I've taught Computer Skills, and P.E. In Ag I've taught welding, Animal Science, and Intro to Ag. I've coached volleyball, basketball, and track. I've helped sponsor Battle of the Books. I've played on town team softball and volleyball. I'm FFA adviser. I'm a volunteer leader in 4H and have recently become certified to instruct pistol in the shooting sports part of 4H. I barrel race but thoroughly enjoy anything that has to do with the equine industry. I shoe my own horses and even made a little money in keeping others' horses shod. I know I've forgotten a few things here but that's all right...they'll be caught up with as I write.
My lack of tunnel vision goes way back before college, way back before school started at all for me. As a child I wanted to do everything, taste everything, see everything. I used to terrify my mother by wandering off and making friends with perfect strangers. Fortune and Faith favor the fools, though, and all the strangers I attached myself too were honest strangers and I always found my way back home.
Then school started - the first grade for me as Kindergarten just didn't happen - and I was one backward kid. I didn't color the way the teacher's thought I should color and I didn't talk the way the other kids thought I should talk. I longed for summer vacation but I liked the learning - most of the time. I survived elementary. My favorite subject was...well, I don't think I had a favorite subject. I fit in better with the guys than the girls but I could get a long with just about everyone...yep, I was still bringing strangers home and asking if I could keep them. My best friends were a sorrel gelding named Sonny, a mare named Flicka, a German Shepherd named HeyDog, and a bumble bee devouring Border Collie named Buddy.
Then came Purgatory...er...I mean Junior High. I got my height then and I was as nearly as coordinated as a one legged Albatross. It was rough, I won't sugar coat that one, but I developed some character through it all. I learned to laugh at myself...you know it had to be pretty comical just watching me try to walk without taking out anything within arm's length of my body. It was a whole new meaning to being 'all over the place' but I survived it. The whole time my focus was on...everything. HeyDog was still with us and my new best friend was a Palomino named Skeeter - though with him it was a love/hate relationship and he'll be subject of A LOT of stories. I liked basketball and summer sunshine, dresses and shorts, tennis and sandals, straight wild hair and made the attempt at make up and nail polish. I was not shy, at least I didn't think I was. I was different, that was evident, and I still didn't quite fit in with any given group but I wasn't a complete outsider either.
High school came and I walked through every door I possibly could. I played volleyball, basketball, and competed in track. I took art, drafting, band (played flute and bari sax), orchestra (played the violin), drama, and anything that would legally get me out of a day of school. My favorite subject was Science but I was pretty darn good in English and by now had found a passion in reading...though not ALL books were read in their entirety. Sorry, Chuck (Charles Dickens), I still can't read any of your books all the way through. I spent hours riding horses, worked at a riding stable for a summer job and helped out on the farm any chance I got. I learned how to castrate, brand, ear mark, and rope. I learned how to cook and sew. I'm still trying...no...no really...to learn the art of cleaning.
College came and my parents thought I'd be focused...HA!!! but I was focused for the first two and a half years of college. As focused as any freshmen, sophomore, and junior college kid can be. Vet school here I come...not quite...and long story short I walked out with a major in English and a double minor in Animal Science and Education, a semester shy of having a double major - the Animal Science. I would have had a BA and a BS...but let's face it there's some that will say the BS has been there all along.
I've rarely slowed down, but I still get a good whiff of the roses and the night sky will always capture my focus for a good few minutes. And...I am in the process of narrowing my focus a little. Eventually, I do have to decide what I want to be when I grow up.
So focus is a challenge for me, pinning me down to one specific just isn't going to be easy. I am what I am!!! What am I? Let's go back to the "I am what I am!"
And I gotta thank this friend because she inspired some focus into my second post. I was debating with myself on what I should write next, whether it be some little tidbit of a story I'd gone through in past times or something more recently experienced. When I read her comment I thought...yeah, I'll just go with that. I'm all over the place. I sometimes call myself a walking talking oxymoron - for those of you that know me DO NOT miss the 'oxy' in front of the 'moron'.
For the past five years I taught English and Vocational Agriculture. During my 2nd year of teaching English and Vo-Ag I was told there were only 2 such teachers in the nation. The stats were helped by my being a woman and teaching at opposite ends of the spectrum. I can't verify the numbers but I can well believe it. Most educators are more focused. I've also taught JAG (Jobs for America's Graduates). I've taught Computer Skills, and P.E. In Ag I've taught welding, Animal Science, and Intro to Ag. I've coached volleyball, basketball, and track. I've helped sponsor Battle of the Books. I've played on town team softball and volleyball. I'm FFA adviser. I'm a volunteer leader in 4H and have recently become certified to instruct pistol in the shooting sports part of 4H. I barrel race but thoroughly enjoy anything that has to do with the equine industry. I shoe my own horses and even made a little money in keeping others' horses shod. I know I've forgotten a few things here but that's all right...they'll be caught up with as I write.
My lack of tunnel vision goes way back before college, way back before school started at all for me. As a child I wanted to do everything, taste everything, see everything. I used to terrify my mother by wandering off and making friends with perfect strangers. Fortune and Faith favor the fools, though, and all the strangers I attached myself too were honest strangers and I always found my way back home.
Then school started - the first grade for me as Kindergarten just didn't happen - and I was one backward kid. I didn't color the way the teacher's thought I should color and I didn't talk the way the other kids thought I should talk. I longed for summer vacation but I liked the learning - most of the time. I survived elementary. My favorite subject was...well, I don't think I had a favorite subject. I fit in better with the guys than the girls but I could get a long with just about everyone...yep, I was still bringing strangers home and asking if I could keep them. My best friends were a sorrel gelding named Sonny, a mare named Flicka, a German Shepherd named HeyDog, and a bumble bee devouring Border Collie named Buddy.
Then came Purgatory...er...I mean Junior High. I got my height then and I was as nearly as coordinated as a one legged Albatross. It was rough, I won't sugar coat that one, but I developed some character through it all. I learned to laugh at myself...you know it had to be pretty comical just watching me try to walk without taking out anything within arm's length of my body. It was a whole new meaning to being 'all over the place' but I survived it. The whole time my focus was on...everything. HeyDog was still with us and my new best friend was a Palomino named Skeeter - though with him it was a love/hate relationship and he'll be subject of A LOT of stories. I liked basketball and summer sunshine, dresses and shorts, tennis and sandals, straight wild hair and made the attempt at make up and nail polish. I was not shy, at least I didn't think I was. I was different, that was evident, and I still didn't quite fit in with any given group but I wasn't a complete outsider either.
High school came and I walked through every door I possibly could. I played volleyball, basketball, and competed in track. I took art, drafting, band (played flute and bari sax), orchestra (played the violin), drama, and anything that would legally get me out of a day of school. My favorite subject was Science but I was pretty darn good in English and by now had found a passion in reading...though not ALL books were read in their entirety. Sorry, Chuck (Charles Dickens), I still can't read any of your books all the way through. I spent hours riding horses, worked at a riding stable for a summer job and helped out on the farm any chance I got. I learned how to castrate, brand, ear mark, and rope. I learned how to cook and sew. I'm still trying...no...no really...to learn the art of cleaning.
College came and my parents thought I'd be focused...HA!!! but I was focused for the first two and a half years of college. As focused as any freshmen, sophomore, and junior college kid can be. Vet school here I come...not quite...and long story short I walked out with a major in English and a double minor in Animal Science and Education, a semester shy of having a double major - the Animal Science. I would have had a BA and a BS...but let's face it there's some that will say the BS has been there all along.
I've rarely slowed down, but I still get a good whiff of the roses and the night sky will always capture my focus for a good few minutes. And...I am in the process of narrowing my focus a little. Eventually, I do have to decide what I want to be when I grow up.
So focus is a challenge for me, pinning me down to one specific just isn't going to be easy. I am what I am!!! What am I? Let's go back to the "I am what I am!"
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Name Says it All...or Does It?
A name can say a lot about a person or it can totally contradict everything about that person. In my particular case the name of this site - my two most used nicknames - it says everything and then absolutely nothing. Taken literally and apart shorty indicates short...which I'm not. In my home area ( I say area because in small towns saying home town just doesn't say enough and my home area indicates two counties and two states) I am a full foot above the average woman in height. Then there's Belle which means beautiful...which...by my own standards, I am not. We won't go into detail about my looks - I've turned a head or two (could have been turned by my height as well) but well...we just shouldn't go into detail about my looks. So by literal standards, the name means...nothing in relation to me.
Then there's the other meaning. Like that other guy or girl, that other meaning is a lot deeper than it looks. Going back to the Shorty portion of the name, it is who I was growing up. My dad's nick name is Short...which he is not either standing a full 6'4" above ground level. I was the oldest born so when I started showing characteristics of sharing his traits -namely the height - they added the 'y' and called me Shorty. It was "Shorty" that went on team shirts. It was "Shorty" I often signed as my name in yearbooks and on cards and letters. It was "Shorty" I answered to and "Shorty" people in the Valley knew me as. It was me...and through that nick name it was everything - a tie to my dad and a smile when it was called. Oh there were other names that came with the height and smile but we'll delve into those in later blogs.
The Belle...ahhhhhh the Belle. I left my little home area, Northern New Mexico/Southern Colorado, and hit college. I played ball and discovered I wasn't the tallest girl in the world...not by a longshot. Shorty came to have a different meaning all together but one that wasn't so bad. However, it wasn't going to stick with everyone - still stuck with many, mind you, and I will still look around when I hear someone shout "Hey Shorty!" At the time of college my absolute favorite movie out of all my favorite movies - not that I saw a whole lot of movies at that time in my life - was Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The main character is Belle. I could quote the movie word for word and turned to mush every time the prince came back to life at Belle's tears and words of endearment. Then there was my original name...you know the one given to me at birth. Clara. It's one of those names that sounds so simple - means 'clear' in most languages - and yet can sound so complex so ancient, speaking generations and generations with just a simple speaking of it. It is traditional, it is old, it is royal and sacred and...there is no translation of it in the poetic Japanese language. (just a bit of randomness there in case there wasn't already enough)
My grandmother - who has held the name far longer than myself - warned me of the Legendary cow and the dreaded nick names that came from her and forever landed on someone named Clara. Yep, you might have guessed it...ClaraBelle.
After my grandmother's warning of the name I dreaded it, thinking it had to be the most horrid of all nicknames.
Truth be told 'ClaraBelle' wasn't used that often to get my attention. Oh, there was once or twice I can honestly recall it. 'Belle' was used. It was first used after the nick had been mentioned at the same time I'd quoted something witty from the movie. From then on, for a certain group of friends I was Belle. It was a nick, it was nothing...and then it was everything and the everything was pointed out when I graduated the first time from college. One of our group couldn't drive himself - he'd been in a serious car accident and had lost most of his motor skills - including that of speech. He was waiting for me in the dorm lobby as we'd planned on him riding to the gym with me that day. I was still fussing with my dress - that WOULD be covered by a colored gown - and had just got finished chastising myself by saying, "Guess it doesn't matter anyway..." when he slowly stood and walked over to me. He motioned for me to stop rather than keep walking. In his slow drawn out even forced words he said, "Belle, you are beautiful and I wish you knew just how beautiful." When I looked into his eyes and saw the earnestness in his thoughts Belle became everything.
So where's this first long blog going? Well, I'll tell ya...like my nick names Shorty and Belle this blog site will be full of EVERYTHING and NOTHING and sometimes I'll discuss them all at the same time. I'm a plethora of randomness sometimes.
And...I'm hoping you enjoy that plethora of randomness, everythings and nothings, as much as I did in experiencing them.
Then there's the other meaning. Like that other guy or girl, that other meaning is a lot deeper than it looks. Going back to the Shorty portion of the name, it is who I was growing up. My dad's nick name is Short...which he is not either standing a full 6'4" above ground level. I was the oldest born so when I started showing characteristics of sharing his traits -namely the height - they added the 'y' and called me Shorty. It was "Shorty" that went on team shirts. It was "Shorty" I often signed as my name in yearbooks and on cards and letters. It was "Shorty" I answered to and "Shorty" people in the Valley knew me as. It was me...and through that nick name it was everything - a tie to my dad and a smile when it was called. Oh there were other names that came with the height and smile but we'll delve into those in later blogs.
The Belle...ahhhhhh the Belle. I left my little home area, Northern New Mexico/Southern Colorado, and hit college. I played ball and discovered I wasn't the tallest girl in the world...not by a longshot. Shorty came to have a different meaning all together but one that wasn't so bad. However, it wasn't going to stick with everyone - still stuck with many, mind you, and I will still look around when I hear someone shout "Hey Shorty!" At the time of college my absolute favorite movie out of all my favorite movies - not that I saw a whole lot of movies at that time in my life - was Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The main character is Belle. I could quote the movie word for word and turned to mush every time the prince came back to life at Belle's tears and words of endearment. Then there was my original name...you know the one given to me at birth. Clara. It's one of those names that sounds so simple - means 'clear' in most languages - and yet can sound so complex so ancient, speaking generations and generations with just a simple speaking of it. It is traditional, it is old, it is royal and sacred and...there is no translation of it in the poetic Japanese language. (just a bit of randomness there in case there wasn't already enough)
My grandmother - who has held the name far longer than myself - warned me of the Legendary cow and the dreaded nick names that came from her and forever landed on someone named Clara. Yep, you might have guessed it...ClaraBelle.
After my grandmother's warning of the name I dreaded it, thinking it had to be the most horrid of all nicknames.
Truth be told 'ClaraBelle' wasn't used that often to get my attention. Oh, there was once or twice I can honestly recall it. 'Belle' was used. It was first used after the nick had been mentioned at the same time I'd quoted something witty from the movie. From then on, for a certain group of friends I was Belle. It was a nick, it was nothing...and then it was everything and the everything was pointed out when I graduated the first time from college. One of our group couldn't drive himself - he'd been in a serious car accident and had lost most of his motor skills - including that of speech. He was waiting for me in the dorm lobby as we'd planned on him riding to the gym with me that day. I was still fussing with my dress - that WOULD be covered by a colored gown - and had just got finished chastising myself by saying, "Guess it doesn't matter anyway..." when he slowly stood and walked over to me. He motioned for me to stop rather than keep walking. In his slow drawn out even forced words he said, "Belle, you are beautiful and I wish you knew just how beautiful." When I looked into his eyes and saw the earnestness in his thoughts Belle became everything.
So where's this first long blog going? Well, I'll tell ya...like my nick names Shorty and Belle this blog site will be full of EVERYTHING and NOTHING and sometimes I'll discuss them all at the same time. I'm a plethora of randomness sometimes.
And...I'm hoping you enjoy that plethora of randomness, everythings and nothings, as much as I did in experiencing them.
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