something about Jesus

This past September, I experienced change that would not have happened if I had not gone to a Lady Gaga concert. Who knew?! :) And maybe it wasn't change so much as just a thought-provoking experience that I still have not resolved. Here are the questions: who decides what the standards are that we hold others to? I imagine those standards as a brick wall--most people stop upon contact (or even upon approach) when they reach a standard they know they shouldn't break, but what happens when those standards are actually glass, or a mirror? And there are suddenly people who can see you breaking that glass or mirror as well...
I'm going to guess that for most people, some sort of religious faith dictates their sense of standards. Those are mostly instilled during childhood. I'd like to think that at some point, standards are a sort of instinct, necessary for survival. There certainly should be some things that we don't do just because...what would happen if we let ourselves stoop that low? And I'm sure we can all think of things to judge, "Goodness, I would never do that!"
Until you do.
Then what?
What if you're sorry only because you know someone might be judging you for it, even if they themselves did it too? That person is part of the mirror image of standards, and you can watch the both of you fumble through it. One of you might break through while the other hangs behind, catching none of the glass. How fortunate. But maybe there was a point before reaching the glass where it would have been possible to just float for awhile. I think that's the place where some people wake up and the standards become the brick wall again and they just stop.
But for those of us who have broken the standards before, we can't go back. We'll be judged. But we still have to be who we are.

Who I Am In Six Words

Anytime I have to do any of the following, I get really nervous:
pick one word that defines who you are
pick one quote that shows who you are
pick one adjective that describes the essence of you
pick your favorite movie
what is your favorite song?
can everyone be reduced to such specifics??
This stuff drives me CRAZY. I can NEVER think of answers to these types of questions! And it has always made me feel bad about myself. As in, perhaps I have no personality and nothing about me is interesting at all because I have no answers to these questions. But actually, the older I get, the more I realize that it's such a great thing that I can't think of only one answer. On the more pessimistic side, though, I realize that I can't think of only one answer because I rarely tell the complete truth about myself to everyone. Most people only see one side of me. That makes sense with my students, of course. However, pretty much everyone who knew me in college probably saw me as an intellect and not much into socializing (if they noticed anything about me at all). My sons certainly have different opinions. As is typical, my husband is the one who gets the closest complete picture of me as a person. My current students probably think I'm a really strict grader, kinda klutzy, and sort of strange yet funny.  Is it okay that different groups of people only see certain sides of me? Should I try to change this? Does this make me a wuss of a person? Grow up...be who are you! But that is frightening.
Here are some attempts at answers:
okay, I've been sitting here for about a half an hour and I can't come up with anything original.
What I would want EVERYONE to know is that I want what is real. I can't stand having to wonder if someone is being honest or is just being polite or will later turn his or her back on me...the irony of this is not lost on me.

A web log.

I think I'm definitely in this for the long run. As in, I'm going to post once per day for a year. I've been wanting to do this for a couple of years now, and it's hard to believe I actually am going through with it. Although "going through with it" makes it sound like a chore. It really isn't. Today I was thinking about the title of my blog, and it didn't seem as great. It seemed more pompous and pretentious than anything else. But I'm going to stick with it, give it a chance, and see how it goes.

Today I heard a song on the radio that was my boyfriend's and my song. I was in 11th grade and he was in 10th grade the year that we dated. My 9 year-old son was in the car with me, and it made me wonder if he had any remote idea of what the lyrics meant. I highly doubt it, but perhaps he wondered. He didn't ask. But listening to that song with my son made me realize that there are some aspects of my life that he will never know about. Obviously some of these things should be kept private, but sometimes those are the things that really shape who we are as people and why and how we change. And I wondered: just what don't I know about the lives of those who I love and care about? And does it really matter?

I actually think that it does, although it would make me extremely uncomfortable to share the truth with almost anyone. But the things I'd rather not tell anyone, they give me depth and badness and hopefully, ultimately, some redemption. Otherwise, I'm just some English teacher who is married with two boys.

A web log?

"Blog" sounds so high-tech and self-important, but now that I'm a part of it, I hope those descriptions are no longer accurate. I try not to have any lofty ideals about how people will certainly be interested in my writing and in what I have to say...but at least this is a low-stakes medium through which to attempt...something. I admit that being honest truly frightens me because that is not who I am in real life. I do not think of myself as a liar, but rather as someone who will most definitely withhold the complete truth in order to save someone from pain or embarrassment. If that is noble or cowardly, I have yet to make a final determination. Even if I don't decide, it doesn't even matter: if you don't know someone is lying or withholding the complete truth from you, and you never know, is that a problem? These are, I believe, the true ethical problems that I mull over most days. And thus the name I have chosen for this blog: lifting the veil. Even if no one cares, I will at least pretend that there are people who read this blog. I will be attempting to record the brief moments of lucidity that I experience, sometimes every day, sometimes only every once in awhile. But this is my life, and I am one of the few people who sees the world as being covered in a veil and I am constantly trying to lift it. I refuse to believe that there is a man behind the green veil, although some days I think I do believe that. And perhaps when it is all said and done, these thoughts will at least cause others to consider...