One of the changes in my life  since I've written regularly is that I am attending graduate school at an ivy league institution. I'm not one to brag, but I've dreamed of attending an ivy league school my entire life.   My area of study is leadership and organizational dynamics, and I've been consumed by classwork.  Utterly consumed--and I'm loving every blessed second.

I love school, and I have great tales to tell...and a whole bunch of new year resolutions to post, so I'll be back.

I'll regale you with one brief experience. When I went to Franklin Field to see the Quakers play Cornell, I found myself in my own Mastercard(TM) commercial:

General Admission to football games:  Free with studentl ID

Hot chocolate and a soft pretzel:  $7

Being mistaken for a Penn professor:  priceless.

I'm thankful for the snow--it allows me to focus on my work, because i'd rather write than shovel!

Mistletoe smooches,

Rachel

It's been a long time.

I've had a revelaton of sorts, but it's the kind of revelation that comes gently, not as a big bang.

Life's a five-ticket ride.

I realized this tid-bit while purse-holding for my daughter and her friend in Ocean City, NJ as they clamored aboard the roller coaster on Wonderland Pier.

Those five-ticket rides are ardrenalin-filled, short-lived, and a whole lot of fun.  You just need to budget your tickets to be able to experience the rush...and steel yourself that you're going to have to spend a fair amount of time waiting.  The good things, happen, though.  You just have to be patient.

In the meantime, you have to find enjoyment in the little things:  a hug from a child, bottle-feeding a gaggle of stray kittens affectionately dubbed the Cullens, savoring the morning's first cup of coffee, eating hot-buttered popcorn, and enjoying the way sunshine warms your bones. These one-ticket events are pretty remarkable, so we shouldn't take them for granted.

Diappointments come.  They're inevitable in fact.  But if you compare yourself to others you don't realize your own gifts.

We're all pretty remarkable.  We have our own talents, our own uniqueness, our own contributions.  We can't enjoy our ride if we're counting the tickets in someone else's ticket book and wondering how many times they're going to ride.  it's your ticket-book, it's your ride that counts.

If you wait for the good things, they do come.  It just takes time.

In the middle of watching Say Anything , I realized I was and wasn't over him.

He was, and never would be, a Lloyd Dobbler.  Holding a boom-box in the rain because his girlfriend broke up with him and he wanted her back--nope, definitely not the type.  He'd move on.  Instantly.  He'd have others lined up as soon as Diane handed him the pen and told him to write.  He wouldn't be at a Gas-n-Sip getting advice from the with the guys on a Saturday night, either, 'cause he'd be dialing some girl's phone seeking comfort and an ego stroke.

It's 4:30 a.m. and I'm awake.  I haven't had my coffee yet but I'm enjoying a bowl of Crispix (remember the commercial:  "It's crispy, times two?")

Actually, I'm awake because my daughter is sick, and I checked on her.  I woke her, gave her Motrin, and make her drink water because she's feverish.  I can't sleep when I worry, and I worry a lot anymore about everything. 

It's powerful to be awake this early on my own volution--not because someone decided to call me because they're up and know I'll be accomodating, but because I wanted to be awake.

I'm over feeling inadequate.  When someone doesn't make time for you but has time for others and still calls you in the early a.m. because he knows you care about him, he's using you.  When he feeds you lines that he can't see you month after month because he's ever so busy--and then it's been, oh, eight months and you learn that he indeed found time to hang with apartment complex friends when he was so busy, he's playing you--and never expected you to find out.

I normally know when I'm being used.  Hell, for that fact, I even know when I'm being played. What suprised me is that I allowed it--welcomed it, encouraged it--on some level.  Is it low self-esteem that makes you think that you only deserve crumbs ("Crumbs are better than nothing, right? " Low-self Esteem whispers to a fractured ego.), or is it something else?

He made his choice.  He chose to spend time with the type of person who is stopped for drinking and driving:  immature and selfish.  Drink all you want, but don't risk a bystander's safety because you are foolish enough to drink and drive.  It's a poor choice--and it's not the choice of a responsible woman; I don't feel drinking and driving can be justified on any level.  

The woman is attractive, and probably if you made a comparison between us, the majority of men would go for the sexy divorced mom vs. the frazzled single mom next door.  A dyed blonde who tries too hard trumps a brunette who doesn't try enough.  However, as my daughter astutely pointed out, her boobs sag.  "She should cover those puppies up because they droop."  I hugged her hard and laughed through my tears.  I would have increased her allowance ten-fold for that type of comment if it was in the budget.  Instead, I opted for the more recession-friendly purchase of the Twilight soundtrack. 

Therapy to get over someone who preyed on your low self-esteem:  co-pay $40. 

Hearing your daughter voluntarily diss An Other Woman, priceless.

Rewarding your daughter for her astuteness:  $13 buks for Twilight CD at WalMart. 

What's good about this mom next door (besides the fact that her boobs do not sag, thank you very much) is that she's not immature enough to drink and drive.  She's reliable, dependable...and learning to love herself.

Crumbs are not acceptable.  They're messy and offer just a hint of something--a something that isn't there anymore.  They're residual, leftovers--and so not worth the time or the effort analyzing where the cookie part has gone.

Now that's saying something. 

I spoke to someone that I haven't spoken to in 9 months, and before that, I guess it was a half-turn of the earth around the sun. This woman is a high-school friend.  As she spoke breathlessly of her 75-hour a week work schedule, I felt for her.

Not because I don't believe in hard work, but because there's so much more to life than that.

Even before Emily I had some balance in my life.  Graduate school can consume one if one allows it, and I always found time for window shopping and coffee drinking with  my friends.  We would talk big ideas, but there was balance because we would talk small, demented ideas, too.  We worked with non-native English speakers to improve their writing at free clinics.  We taught half-awake freshman how to craft a thesis sentence.  We wrote endless papers on mundane topics like Shakespeare's use of gloves in his plays.  We studied Middle English and chuckled and bawdy lines from the Canterbury Tales. We cared, we played, we studied--we lived.  

I don't envy her.  I don't envy the designer clothes, the designer car, the suburban house, the husband she never sees.   Part of me thinks I should envy her, as she has so more stuff than I do.  Plus, she's what men want--the poster-child for late 30s and successful:  brainy, skinny, and fabulous.  Then I pause, and realize, no, not necessarily.

The French believe that a woman is not interesting until she turns 40 because it's then when she has a story to tell.  The lines on her face and her imperfections tell her story. 

Say what you want about the French, but they do appreciate women.  Real women.

What story does my acquaintance have--a work story? Vacationing alone stories because the husband doesn't want to go with her?  Changing her views to suite her husband stories because he's very sure it's his way or no way?  

I don't want those stories.

Tucking my daughter in bed, writing, sometimes teaching, helping others, striving to be better, and learning every day feels like living to me. 

It's not a great story.  It's not even a happy story. The daily struggles are overwhelming, but the moments of joy, well, they shimmer like frost in moonlight. 

It's mediocre or fair-to-middlin', but it's my story.

Having some balance, and not having to compromise who I am or what I believe to suit another so as not to be alone, is not a fairy tale, but there's always hope that wishes come true.

All of us are struggling right now--struggling with this economy and job market, struggling with personal demons, struggling with personal relationships, yet we treat each other like crap because we feel entitled.

Huh?

Enough already!  Be the change. 

You don't like to see litter on the street, then pick one piece of trash up.  If everyone picked up a piece of litter imagine how clean the country would be.  Don't say the city should send a street cleaning truck to do it.  Pick it up--just pick up one piece of trash a day. 

Let someone in your lane who is trying to merge in the highway--don't cause an accident by aggressive driving.  Let the pedestrian have the right of way.

Take care of your neighbor--first by being polite, second by not infringing on your neighbor's rights, and third by trying to meet your neighbor's needs. We all have needed, need, or will need a hand one day--so if you can help, help now.  Don't wait for someone else to do it.  You do it.

Do you have old clothes you no longer want hanging in the closet?  Bag them; call the Purple Heart. They pick up--so you don't even have to waste time or spend gas to help others. Have gently used toys?  Call a local orphanage or a crisis center for families in crisis.

Did you make a big dinner and hate leftovers, so you'll just throw the food out?  Grab a container and share the leftovers with someone who is hungry--either a neighbor that you know who is in need (we all know who is in need--we're nosey enough) or seek out an agency like Aid for Friends who transport meals made by others to the elderly and homebound who find cooking to be a challenge.

Do you know a latch-key kid and you're a stay-at-home parent?  Invite the latch-key kid over for  a snack and help the kid with homework. 

Volunteer.  Volunteer with youth--help with scout meetings or afterschool activities.  Find out where the scouts meet and ask if you can help once in a while.  Help kids stay out of trouble. 

If you're a parent, imagine the example you would show your child(ren) by helping someone who needs it.

At the very least, let's be civil to one another.

Be the change. 

Decency doesn't come from a government bailout.  We can't expect the government to meet all of our needs.  Conservatives shout that we're turning into a welfare society, and perhaps there is some truth to their observation. 

We need to roll-up our sleeves and work to make America better.  President Obama doesn't have a magic wand.  We need to stand straight and embrace the call to greatness that is required right now to make America healthy and strong again.

Let's stop waiting for someone else to do it, and do it ourselves.

Everyone uses toilet paper.  Everyone farts.  No one is better than anyone else.  We don't live in an aristocracy.  There are no serfs, no vassals, no lords.

It's a Democracy--We the People. 

I am humbled when I focus on those three words:  We the People.  How powerful.  How profound.  How utterly true.   

We the People have needs.  We the People are in crisis.   We the People know the work needed to affect positive change.  We the People need to commit ourselves to being the change instead of waiting for other people to lead the movement.

After all, it's We the People...not Other People.

Our destiny, our call to action, our birthright in three words: We the People. Note well it's not these two:  Other People.