Do Something Extraordinary

I read some inspirational list of things you’re supposed to do in your life a while back (likely some New Years Resolution drivel). The one thing that really stuck with me was a simple expression of a desire I’ve had for some time now.

I want to do something extraordinary.

I want to get to the end of my life, look back, and know that I’ve made a difference somehow. I’m not interested in skating by through this lifetime, with just doing the bare minimum and “getting through” each day. I want to work towards something, to earn something, to achieve something huge. Not big. HUGE.

...but how? How do you get from ordinary to extraordinary?  And how do I pick? To be honest, I’m not very inventive. I’m not very good at “thinking outside the box.” As a friend of mine commented a while ago, that’s because the box has gotten so big. And I think he has a point. In this technological age, where everything is created and developed at an exponential rate, where is there room for me to edge in and do something memorable, on a grand scale?

I can’t even begin to imagine what my “extraordinary accomplishment” might actually BE, either. It’s like I’m “dreaming BIG!” but without having a tangible dream (which, let me tell you, is a little disconcerting!). I feel like there are two possible ways for this goal to play out:

1.       I plan and dream and work hard towards a known goal (for instance, I could write a bestselling series, a la J.K.Rowling or Jeff Kinney). So the idea here is that I define what I want to do (and therein lies the problem with this one), then get all Angela-like (driven and hardworking) and tackle it step-by-step. But again... what’s the goal? How do I choose? What are my options?

or...

2.       I’m in the right time at the right place and act with the right response (such as saving someone’s life). There’s little I can do to prepare for this one (thus the problem). But maybe I can put myself into situations where something extraordinary might happen? Start volunteering at the hospital, or make lots of friends so that one day one of them asks me for a kidney? Yeah, okay, even *I* think that sounds a little silly...

Most people who have even cursory knowledge of me know that I’m super busy. I pack my schedule full of all sorts of things – work, volunteering, socializing, etc. It’s a “slow week” when I only have ONE plan each night after work. And I’ve been criticized for this; people worry that I’m not leaving enough time for myself, for finding a partner, for ... whatever they think should be important to me. But the truth is that I equate hard work with success. So the harder I work, and the more I accomplish in a day, the closer I get to achieving increasingly higher goals.

I’ve always been this way. The difference over the past few months is that I don’t know anymore what the next goal is. So I just keep working hard, but it’s not focused work. It’s a little scattered. And that’s hard for me to reconcile in my head.

*sigh*. I’m kind of at a loss here. Most of you who read this blog  know me fairly well... any suggestions? (...given my lack of consistency in posting to it these days, is anyone even reading it anymore?)

January's Toque Tree

As previously mentioned (here), I purchased my very first “very own” Christmas tree this year. It’s a little dwarf spruce (yes, it’s real... I’m one of those “fake tree = fake Christmas” people). And I loved it so much that I just couldn’t part with it come January.

So I’ve decided to make it my Year-Round Holiday tree. And each month (for as long as it survives... which, given my complete and utter lack of a green thumb, could be a very short period of time) I plan to decorate it with holiday-appropriate crafts.

So here’s January’s Toque Tree (so Canadian of me, I know). These were the simplest little things to make, and I just love how cute they are!

Overheard at Work

Woman 1 to Woman 2: "Hey! Let me see your stick. Is it bigger than mine?"



...Maybe they'd been taking lessons from the men in the office...???

hahaha!! Actually, there IS a perfectly normal explanation for this one... but it's funnier without it, don't you think?

12-month Hiatus

About six weeks ago, a major change occurred in my life. Everything has been affected: my daily routine, my future career potential, even some of my relationships. This change came as a result of A LOT of personal consideration, input from friends and family, and (most important of all) the fact that I finally allowed myself to let go of something I’ve been holding on to for years now. In short, I’m about six weeks into a 12-month hiatus from teaching.

When I say it took a long time to come to the conclusion that this was what I needed and THEN to finally take the jump and do it, I’m not kidding. For a year now, I’ve been feeling unhappy and unsatisfied with my teaching career. And really, it’s been even longer than that. But as soon as I got to England, and starting teaching again after the month-break I’d had prior, I felt such anxiety whenever I thought about stepping into a classroom that I was forced to take a look at my chosen vocation. And I realized that I’d been feeling that way for much, much longer – I just hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge how I felt. I’d been on the path to teaching for so long, and spent so many hours (and dollars!) working towards that goal. How could I give it up? Wasn’t I, as everyone I knew constantly reminded me, born to be a teacher?

In order to put into print the conversation I’ve had on very many occasions recently... I present to you...

“The Top 3 Most Likely Questions That Have Popped Into Your Head As You’ve Been Reading This Blog Post”

1.       But Angela, wouldn’t it be better if you had your own class?
Maybe. It’s definitely possible. But if subbing is the only part I don’t like, if it’s just the “newness” of each and every day, if it was the teaching I loved and if I could just do that part without all the uncertainty of being a TOC... then at some point during the day, when the “newness” has worn off and I know the kids and we’re in a groove and it’s all going well and I even planned part or all of the day... at some point, I should sit back and think, “I can’t believe I get paid for this. I love being a teacher.”

But I don’t.

I cannot say when the last time was that I felt that. I’m not sure I ever did. And that makes me nervous. What if I’m actually putting in all this sucky time of dealing with being a TOC, and then eventually, after years and years of hating this and feeling this unhappy, when I finally get my “own class” (the thing that’s supposed to solve all of the negative feelings I have right now)...I’m still this unhappy. What then?

2.       Well Angela, was it just teaching in London that you didn’t enjoy? You know the kids there are really bad, right? First of all, the kids I taught in London weren’t any different from the kids I teach in Canada. Kids are kids. Some kids have more behaviour difficulties than others, and that requires a little more attention and work on my part, but they’re NOT “bad”. And the work I did in London was very similar to that of Victoria, even sometimes easier because I never had to plan anything myself. So no, teaching in London did not make me hate teaching.

I did, however, spend A LOT of my “living in London” time contemplating why it was that I seemed so much more unhappy with it while I was there. And I think it all comes down to balance. When I was subbing in Victoria, before I left for England, I was also maintaining a part-time job. A job I loved. A job that made me feel like I was helpful and appreciated. A job I looked forward to going to, because I knew my time there would be productive, helpful and fun. So even though I was teaching a lot, I always got to fill my “other-than-teaching time” with this other job. I didn’t have time to be unhappy with my work, because the “less than satisfying” part was balanced with the “very satisfying” part. Once I got to London, ALL I did was teach. So I started spending EVERY day unhappy and I started losing sleep over how anxious I felt about that.

So I came back. And I went back to teaching. A lot. And I was STILL not feeling happy. In fact, I was feeling quite UNHAPPY. So again, I can say, with total certainty, it was NOT just “teaching in London” that made me unhappy. It was “teaching”.

3.       Oh Angela, what if you tried a specialty?

I’ve thought a lot about that too. And I’m actually currently still enrolled in a course that would lend itself to becoming a Reading Specialist, who could help kids who struggle with reading and writing. And I’ve even looked into quite a few Masters Of Education programs, thinking that maybe I could continue studying Learning Assistance or Gifted Education (both of which interest me very much). But at this point, I think it’s the learning part that interests me. I’m enjoying the challenge of learning again, more than picturing myself actually working in this capacity in the future. So... all I can say on that front is, “we’ll see.”

And so, the hiatus. A friend of mine connected me with a job that offered a 12-month fulltime contract in an office environment similar to that part-time job I mentioned, after which I can go straight back into teaching (if I want to) or continue with the current job (if I want to and if there’s an extension available) or try secret-as-yet-unknown-option-three (something else entirely).

And heck, standing in front of a classroom with 24 expectant faces staring at me is certainly not the only way to use the training I have. I believe in Educating and in Education. So maybe my path is to work in Admin, but still related to teaching. Maybe I’ll end up working for the Ministry of Education. Maybe I’ll find my way back in to a School Admin position. Who knows?

The bottom line is, I just refuse to accept that I have to spend the rest of my life doing something that makes me feel unhappy and unsatisfied. Maybe that’s naive. But heck, I’m still pretty young. If I’m going to be unrealistic and idealistic about the world, and throw away my career to find another one, at least I don’t have any dependents relying on me for an income. So I figure, THIS is the time to be brave and start again.

Or at least to take 12 months to think about it (and make some steady income in the meantime).

Christmas

I don’t care how old you are; Christmas should make you feel excited. It should be a time of joy, of anticipation, of love. Note that I didn’t say everyone feels this way; but they should. It should be possible for all of us to enjoy a few days off and spend some time with people who make us feel valued (whether that’s your biological family or the one you built up around yourself). Idealistic? Sure. But what better time of year than Christmas to be a little unrealistically optimistic?

For me, Christmas this year was a conglomeration of a whole lot of different.

Disneyland
My first exposure to the 2011 holiday season was in Disneyland. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I traveled down to California with my Dad, stepmom and siblings in mid-November for a few days. I don’t care how old you are (sound familiar?); Disneyland should make you feel like a little kid. There’s something about the Magic Kingdom, about the first Mickey Mouse sighting of the trip, about waiting in lines and getting soaking wet on SplashMountain. Any one of those is enough to send me into fits of giggles and to break my face muscles with smiles. And all of them combined? On one of the slowest visitor days of the year? I was downright bursting with glee (as I have been every other time I’ve ever visited the park, even the time I dragged Monica along with me to Disneyland Paris!)

And this year, we combined all that excitement with Christmas! Disneyland had just completed its holiday transformation, which after 8ish visits, we’ve actually not experienced before (I say 8ish because the actual visit count for each of us is different... and because I can’t remember what my own is... suffice it to say, going to a Disney Park is kind of the Chorney-vacation-thing-to-do!!). The Haunted Mansion was made to look like a scene out of “The Nightmare Before Christmas”, fake snow was blasted out of cannons at the conclusion of the firework display, and every exterior was bedecked with red-and-green shiny swag.

In short, Disneyland + Christmas = Awesome.

Throw in a little Chorney Kid Adventure (which just wouldn’t be one without being silly and drawing a crowd), and, well, does it get any better than that?

Advent

On the very very opposite end of nearly every spectrum known to man, is the season of Advent (when comparing it to Disneyland, that is). I’ve remarked to a couple of people that this year, I finally got it. Because the church calendar just hasn’t ever been a significant presence in my faith experiences, Advent (or Epiphany or Lent or... any other one, for that matter) hasn’t really meant anything to me. Over the past few years, as I’ve become more involved in the Lutheran tradition, I started noticing that we changed the colour of the trimmings. But still, that was about it.

Until this year.

I made a habit of attending the Thursday night candlelit services held at my church throughout the four weeks leading up to Christmas. Actually, I only really meant to check out the first one, but something inside my spirit really connected with God at that first one, and I couldn’t have stayed away from the others if I’d tried. They were peaceful. Serene. Spiritual. At the end of one of them, I inexplicably began to cry. Such a release of pent-up emotion could only be attributed to the peace I felt at being drawn into stillness mid-week, mid-season, mid-job-hunt, mid-stress. Everything else in my life melted away and I could just be. I must admit, it’s hard to explain just how I felt that night, and each night after I left those services. The best I can do is to say that I felt ... something.

The purpose of the Advent season is to anticipate the birth of Jesus. And this year, I really felt anticipatory. I felt the slow build-up of the season, the lifting of my spirit, the happiness of the general good mood around me.

The Season Itself

And then, after all the looking-forward-to, Christmas was upon us. And I had what was probably the best Christmas season I’ve had in a long time. From the “12 Days of Michael-and-Ang-mas” right through to the wonderful laziness of hanging out with my family and not doing anything on Christmas Day, it was all great. Just enough relaxation mixed with just enough social fun.

My Christmas Tree

Oh yes, and I purchased my very first “very own” Christmas tree this year. I was so proud I made everyone I know come look at it. It’s true. If you were within 50 feet of my house, and I knew you were there, you came in to see it.

Isn’t it cute? It’s just so... Angela. :)

Alienation

This past weekend, I attended a funeral service at a Catholic church. As has been the case every other time I've attended such a service, I've had some ... reservations about them. I hesitate to lambaste Catholics as a whole, as I'm sure there are variances at each church and that my observations may not be accurate for each and every community. But based on the experiences I've had personally, here's what I think.

My primary problem with the services is how exclusive they are. Non-Catholics, and especially non-Christians couldn't possibly feel included and welcomed into the services I've attended. Page numbers aren't listed, hymnal and service order books aren't always provided, much less referenced so that the irregular attender could read along and participate if they chose. As the family of the deceased, none of us were given a service order or even a hymnal. Had I not been a regular attender in a Lutheran community (which shares some of the liturgy with the Catholic service), I wouldn't have had any idea what was going on; my family, most of whom don't attend services regularly, likely felt the same way. The language used is lofty and what I would define as "Christianese" - it's hard to understand what's going on around you when you can't understand the words, and when they're not even printed on something for you to read, there's no way to keep up.

All of this contributes to an alienating culture. Those who are "in" on what's going on move through the service merrily; there's no problem for them and I'm sure they are comfortable and able connect with God (otherwise, why would they continue to attend?). But for the visitors, the people the community is presumably happy to have join them, the presence of God appears to be inaccessible, as they struggle to figure out what's happening. How could it not be?

This isn't to say that you necessarily have to understand every word to really engage in a faith service. I attended a Pentecostal service when I was in Africa. The language spoken was entirely Amharic (the Ethiopian national language). But the presence of God was palpable in that room; the congregation sung with their souls, and you didn't need to know what they were saying to know that they were praising God with every iota of their being.

But I can't help but feel that the way Western Catholics run their services is simply unfair. I don't understand a church culture that doesn't jump at the chance to include and welcome every visiting member. Maybe it's because I'm spoiled by belonging to a community whose greatest strength is its warmth. From my first day at Church of the Cross I've been welcomed as a family member. Pastor Lyle makes it a practice of our community to individually welcome and introduce new and visiting people every single Sunday. So this is what I've become accustomed to. This is how I feel we should be doing it.

There are other so-called "Christian" practices that I just can't comprehend (must less condone). Such as those people who stand on street corners or outside event centres holding signs and preaching at the masses. I have to wonder how effective this is. How many people come to know Christ this way? I'm put off by it, and I'm a Christian! I've been with unbelievers on more than one occasion who turn to me and say, "You're a Christian, right? Do you do this kind of stuff?" I feel like I have to do more explaining about why other Christians might act this way, rather than actually sharing my own faith and how I practice it.

But maybe I'm wrong. I speak from one person's perspective. I know there are members of my family who were at said funeral service who also read this blog; perhaps you had a different feeling? Maybe you agreed with me? Maybe you had other thoughts I haven't even considered? I'd love to hear what you "mused"!!

Kings and Ducks

I’d forgotten how much fun it is to take in a live hockey game. While I missed the audio commentary that usually comes out of my television because I like hearing the random facts and stats (plus, let’s face it, three hours is a long time to pay attention to the same thing and it’s nice to have someone tell me what just happened when my mind wanders a little…), it’s fun to be in the arena. The place is electric, the crowd noisy with cheering and jeering, the air crisp. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s a bonding experience with thousands (or hundreds, if you’re a Canuck and you’re in someone else’s home turf) of other fans.

And fans there were. There was a sea of green and blue splayed out before us, surrounding the ice and cheering on our boys. Canadians are good at sticking together (even when we're losing). Choruses of "Luuuuuu!!!!" and “Go, Canucks, Go!” rang out sporadically throughout both games and I was right in there with the best of them (as evidenced by my lack of an upper voice register a full week later).

The sense of togetherness didn’t just take place during the periods, either. After the L.A. game, a huge contingent of Vancouver fans gathered together in one section for a group photo and a spontaneous round of “O Canada”. During the Ducks game, the elderly, non-English-speaking Korean woman behind me shook me a few times, then actually hugged me, she was so excited that I was so excited (as a sidenote, one of the funniest moments of the trip was when Lynn ran into this woman in Disneyland a few days later, pointed to her and shouted, “You’re the lady!!”). It's also been pointed out to me that she could have actually been frustrated with me, since I kept leaping up every time something exciting happened, and she probably couldn't see. But I prefer to think she was cheering me along because I was fun for her to watch... yeah, we'll go with that...

And, of course, there were your typical haters too.
Favourite quote from the L.A. game:
   L.A. Fan, sneering at us: “How’s Game 7 feel now??”
   Dad: “A hell of a lot better than getting kicked out in the first round!”

Favourite quote from the Anaheim game:
   Anaheim fan [to Lynn, who wears a Kesler jersey]: “Kesler sucks!”
   Lynn: “Actually, I’m his Mom.”

LAX

This past week, I have been in California with my family, doing the Chorney family thing… that is, Disneyland. This time, for a little extra flavour, we threw in the Canucks games against the L.A. Kings and the Anaheim Ducks as well (which was a genius addition, I have to say).

On our way down, Jenn and I had a couple of hours to wait in the L.A. Airport before the Calgary crew’s flight landed, so we chilled out in the International Departure Lounge (the only place we could find to get some food). In addition to feeding our hungry tummys, we also had a grand ol’ time observing the world around us. A few highlights are listed below:

- At McDonald’s, you can order the “two cheeseburger” meal, or you can just get the burgers for $3.02. Or… you can buy cheeseburgers individually for $1.46 each. um… what?


- There are Exit signs in all the usual places… and also the UNusual. Like this one, bolted to the wall near the ground. How is that useful??


- Best Shirt of the Day Award goes to… The guy wearing this one: “So far this is the oldest I’ve ever been”  (Okay, to be fair, we couldn’t actually see all of the letters on the shirt. But this is the most logical conclusion based on the parts we COULD see.)


- Best Announcement of the Day Award goes to… British Airways: “Youseff Madri*, please report to the British Airways counter. Youseff Madri, arriving from Las Vegas and en route to Cairo, please report to the British Airways counter.” Why was all of that information necessary? In case there were multiple people in the airport with that very specific name?

After visiting the airport, I’ve decided that if I were going to design one, I’d do it very differently. First off, the ARRIVALS section would be the nicest. I would want people visiting my fictitious city to marvel at how great it was as soon as they stepped off the plane. And I would make it a lot easier to have a snack while people were waiting for their family members to arrive on later flights by having restaurants in more convenient locations. The DEPARTURES area would be less flashy. Who cares what people think about your city while they’re on their way OUT of it?


* Name has been changed to protect the innocent… and because I can’t remember exactly what it was but I KNOW it was something atypical for the setting.

The Moody Blues!!!

My parents are self-described "concert junkies." Music (especially Rock music) has always had a prevalent place in our home. While doing chores as kids, we'd be blasting Rod Stewart, AC/DC or The Rolling Stones over the stereo (according to Murray, this isn't really very normal... his family was washing dishes and vacuuming to the harmonious backdrop of the Rankin Family).

So it's not surprising that my first concert was years ago, when I was 10 - we saw the Moody Blues play at the outdoor stage in Deer Lake Park.

Fast forward 18 years, and there we were again, rockin' out to "Your Wildest Dreams", "I Know You're Out There Somewhere" and "I'm Just a Singer (In a Rock And Roll Band)". And, yet again, they were live in concert.

A fan-freakin'-TASTIC concert!!

The back-up drummer (Gordon Marshall) is AMAZING. This guy clearly lives and breathes the music. His body rocks with the rhythms and he is in constant motion on stage. Beats flow through his muscles like they were born there. I've never been so blown away by a dude on a set of drums!

The keyboardist was likewise very entertaining. Jenn and I just couldn't help but laugh every time our attention was turned to him. He was just so... goofy! (Unexpected for this genre of music, I know). The guy, unlike every other clad-in-black band member, was sporting a white and orange t-shirt. Probably the least Rock 'n Roll shirt I have ever seen. And his hair was the product of a JustinBieber/BeachBoy mash-up. But he was fabulously charismatic and highly entertaining.

The Blues themselves were also great. Though the sound system left something to be desired, the words we could make out were at times funny and at others interesting. Graeme Edge, having recently turned 70, shared a few humorous anecdotes and danced a little jig (with better moves than the New Kids on the Block, I might add) before casting aside his tambourine with a flourish. Bear in mind, the Blues were old dudes even when I saw them as a kid... and, well, they haven't gotten any younger. But they've still got the moves, let me tell you!

From the first chord of the first number, I was brought back to my childhood again. Granted, we didn't watch tonight's concert from under an umbrella, and we didn't have to walk ten thousand miles back to the car afterward. But it still transported me back in time to that first concert experience with my Auntie Carol and Ray. I've always had a special little place in my heart for the Moody Blues, and tonight's concert just cemented it in.

HUGE thanks to my Mom and Alan for the last-minute idea and the ticket gift. You guys ROCK! (hahaha... I'm so punny!)

Overheard by a Canadian: Episode 10

More of a conversation this time, but still super-cute.

After opening a thermos full of soup for a student in my Grade 1 class:
Me: "It's because of my super strength. I'm a superhero."

Kid: "You can't be a superhero!"

Me: "Why not?"

Kid: "Because Mr.Parker [the Principal] already is one!"

Me: "Well, can't we have TWO superheroes at this school?"

Kid: "No! *pause*  But you can be his sidekick!"