Monthly Archives: October 2012

She had found what she’d been looking for. And, I knew it wasn’t me

Today I cried at work. I cried for approximately 22 minutes and 15 seconds in the stairwell that separates my company’s office and the Colorado Democratic party headquarters. I cried from the stairwell to my bus stop, from the bus stop to my door step and then my door step to my bed where I continued to cry for another hour. Unfortunately, this extreme display of emotion captured the attention of several coworkers who began to question both the validity of my tears and the male coworker seen talking to me only 20 minutes earlier. That –the confusion about who to blame and why– I regret.

The conversation should’ve been simple, an agreement to disagree. What the conversation turned into was a blame game between him and I, in which we pointed fingers and cited unrelated incidences as evidence to back us up. Our goals got lost in the emotions of trying to be right and that’s where it all went wrong. We forgot what we were fighting for. The truth is we were both right and we were both wrong. We let our egos guide our mouths and my heart suffered the consequences. He said a few coworkers thought I was arrogant, over-bearing, and disrespectful, that I felt my opinions were more sacred than theirs. The word bit*h came pouring out  and it felt colder than usual. I tried turning to leave the conversation when he turned his body blocking me in to explain that by walking away I was proving everything that everyone thought about me- true or not- correct. That’s when it hit me.

As much as I’d like to write, “haters gone hate” and move on with my life the truth is there is a part of us all that wants so desperately to be both loved and accepted. And at my job I don’t feel that way. I feel liked and respected. This  is nice when it comes to projects and data because it’s black and white. I can quantify the effectiveness of my ideas. People like what I have to offer. But, life isn’t black and white. And, we aren’t always working on projects. And if I am by chance arrogant, over-bearing, and disrespectful to my coworkers, even if it’s only the 5 he mentioned, I humbly apologize. That is never the person I want to be.  I realized that I wasn’t mad at him, I was mad at myself. So I cried.


I can honestly say  that I’ve never wondered if my job (and what I do) matters. And, I that’s saying a lot.

Let me tell you the story in the form of a dream

The company I work for prides itself on producing  citizens committed to change, people who are willing to fight for the forgotten at any cost. We work ridiculous hours  in some fairly high stakes environments, most of us because we want to contribute to a cause bigger than ourselves. They call us young heroes.  I, who never considered herself  uniquely special, got to thinking but why me? What makes me a hero?

My theory is: there are nearly seven billion people on this planet. Each one unique, different. What are the chances of that? And why? Is it simply biology, physiology that determines this diversity? A collection of thoughts, memories, experiences that carve out our own special place? Are powers given or developed? Or is it something more than this? Perhaps there’s a master plan that drives the randomness of creation, something unknowable that dwells in the soul, and presents each one of us with a unique set of challenges, that will help us discover who we really are. And I wish I could end this by saying that I figured it out and have a solid understanding of heroes and villains but, I don’t.  All I know is that heroes come from someplace. They are not born; they are created.

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You held your head like a hero on a history book page; It was the end of a decade but the start of an age

After last nights lively Presidential Debate— which oh so mercifully took place less than 5 miles from my condo– I sat down to construct what I imagined to be one of the best lesson plans of the semester. It was a lesson in comparing  Presidential Debates and freestyle rap battles.  I thought it was a winner. I  stepped into my US history class* with Donkey/Elephant animal crackers for prizes in one hand and entry tickets in the other. Entry tickets are simple prompts that are used to “set the stage” for the days activities. Today’s read, “List one lesson you gained from last night’s Presidential Debate.”


Because I work in urban education I anticipated that some students wouldn’t have access to the debate and thus planned to show a clip in class. What I did not plan on was the entire class with the exception of 2 students to have both watched and took notes on the debate. In fact, the students ended up having so much to say I decided to scratch my original idea and instead have an open forum to discuss the happenings of the 2012 Presidential Debate.

After mock opening arguments from both parties a sole student from the back said he’d like to represent a third party on behalf of Michelle Bachman. Intrigued by the request and entertained by the notion I set up a third group. So I moved to the head of the class, taking the place of Lehr and prepared to take my own notes. At the end of class I collected the entry tickets and haven’t stopped laughing since.

Below are the top 8 comments (in no particular order):

  1. Obama is sexy as hell. Vote 4 Obama.
  2. The debate kind of scared me once I realized it was like high school but with suits.
  3. I wonder who lines up Obama’s edges. He get paid a lot?
  4. Muthafuqa ain’t gone take my Elmo’s World!
  5. Romney sounds like Buzzlightyear
  6. If we do vote Obama, if we don’t vote Obama don’t matter ’cause our generations screwed anyways. (on the back this student wrote: “It’s not his fault though.”)
  7. I wonder how people would vote if they were both black.
  8. The illumanti runs this.


*=Clarification: Although I am not an teacher I have the good fortune of serving in 3 history classes in 2 different schools. I often borrow and combine ideas between the two schools hence the blended lesson plans.

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And, if the sky is falling, just take my hand and hold it


Today something funny happened and I wanted to tell you in person but, you’re farther then I’d like. So, I told no one realizing  I miss my old friends almost as much as I miss the person I was when I was with them.

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