And the Award Goes To...

I've known for about a month and a half now, but last week, the president of my college made the official announcement. I am Holmes Community College's Humanities Instructor of the Year. Such an honor entails me having to put on a humanities presentation, topic of my choice (obviously a literary one), and later attending a banquet with other colleges' and universities' winners where we will each receive a cash prize. Stunned did not even cover how I felt when I first found this information out, but now I just feel excited and honored...and nervous, extremely nervous.

I chose the topic of fashion in literature and film and will show how fashion plays an important role in William Faulkner's Sanctuary, Margaret Atwood's The Edible Woman, and the film The Devil Wears Prada. Why these selections? Simple. I love these novels and that movie. In fact, re-reading the books and re-watching the film have really opened my eyes to other new aspects about each, even though I've previewed each of these about a hundred times apiece. I love the feeling I get when I discover a thread from one source to another and can use it to draw a connection to something relevant in our time--almost as good as finding that perfect word to depict that certain moment in a story, essay, or poem. If anything, this project has shown me that I have not lost my love for research.

However, I also face pressure. For this presentation to go well, I have to have an audience. Therefore, I've also learned some new aspects in Public Relations that I had never before given any thought. For one thing, I worked with the school's graphic designer on a poster to promote the event. The result? I love it, but I never would have come up with anything to look as good. Certain area newspapers will also publicize the event. Last week, I got my picture taken, which turned into a full-blown photo shoot, and I hate taking pictures.I learned that my smile does not look natural, but really, how can one look natural with a camera pointed towards her face clicking and flashing bright light every couple of seconds? Honestly, the whole experience left me feeling a little hunted. In the upcoming weeks, I will work with a videographer on splicing my video to specific scenes in the film, and my dean has offered to help me put together a highly visual power point to use. I will also have to learn how to use a wireless mic, some sort of clicker to change slides, and probably some other technological crap that I have no idea what does. Because of all these behind-the-scenes actions going on, I worry that no one will come.

Then again, nothing makes me sicker than standing up and speaking in front of a large audience. Yes, I realize that I stand in front of a captive audience of students  texting zombies and talk their ears off for several hours a week, but somehow, standing on a stage wired to a microphone seems a bit intimidating to me. For one, I don't have the best speaking voice, even in the classroom. I have a shrill voice, not unlike that of a per-pubescent boy. When I really think about my audience, my voice shakes. Frankly, I just don't sound pretty when I speak.

Anyway, scared as I am to give this talk, I guess I kind of look forward to it. I mean, I would rather have the opportunity than not.For about forty-five minutes to an hour, I get to talk about things I love while people listen. How bad could that be? Here's hoping people will enjoy the presentation and forgive my shaky squeaky voice.

Oh, My Heart

It does not take much to pull at my heartstrings, especially if it involves Jude. Yesterday, he looked at Jeffrey and said, "Hug Mommy," and Jeffrey said, "Yes, you can hug Mommy. I'm sure you don't even have to ask." Then Jude walked over to me and gave me a big hug. Right there, I turned into one giant pool of sap.Though I often lament the passing of Jude's infancy, little things such as that remind me of how much I love a two year old.

The other day, my mother and I went out to grab supper for everyone while Jeffrey, Jude, and my dad stayed home. We had planned to stay out about half an hour but also wanted to escape to this new home decor shop in Renaissance before venturing back with the food. I very much looked forward to this impromptu detour because rarely have I darkened the door of a home decor store since the birth of my son. However, before I could circumnavigate the store, a call on the cell phone interrupted the material bliss of sorting through rugs, placing picture frames in some semblance of an order, all while daydreaming  about my house as the featured home in next month's Southern Living.On the other end of the line, a frantic Jeffrey snapped me back into reality as he wondered when we would finally arrive home (at least I think that's what he asked; I found it hard to hear him what with the two year old screaming in the background). After dashing out of the store (with nothing in hand), we quickly returned home to both Jude's tear-stained face and Jeffrey's relieved one. Jeffrey then told me that Jude kept asking for me, and when I wouldn't come, he completely lost it. While I should feel guilty, and I did a little bit, I also couldn't help but think "Aww..."

Jude reminds me every day that I do, in fact, have a heart even though cynicism drips from me much like sweat. The thing no one ever told me about motherhood but what I see as the greatest blessing of all is knowing there's a person out there who loves me no matter what and with no strings attached. I wonder if he loves me this way because on some subconscious level, he knows I love him wholeheartedly. I hope he will always know that, even on the days we don't agree.

Single digits

Lately, the only single digits that have impacted my life usually appear in my bank account toward the end of every month--never fun, but oh the glamourous life of a teacher!

I've been on this diet since June 25, and my last two weigh-ins haven't been great since I didn't lose any weight either time. Of course, I got a little down on myself because as hard as I've worked, I felt at least a couple of ounces should have come off! Also, I have yet to feel skinny. Sure, I've gotten a lot of compliments on my physique lately, but I passed it all off as small talk. I mean, yeah, I've lost some weight, but I haven't reached my goal. I have about sixteen more pounds to go. Plus, I'm still wearing most of my old clothes even though they're looser than when I first started the diet. I just assumed that I would start feeling skinny when I absolutely could not possibly wear those clothes anymore due to fear of unintentionally performing some sort of strip tease while walking across campus to my 10:50 class.

Last week, however, I encountered a single digit that moved me in a way not unlike a religious experience. This small number came to me in the form of a beautiful red dress labeled Size 6. While I cannot yet say why I needed a red dress (that reason should be revealed soon enough), the point is, I got over feeling sorry for my two week lack of weight loss and went and tried on some dresses because it needed to be done.Truthfully, I had pulled the dress from the rack never believing it would fit but instead used it as a reference to how much more weight I needed to get off before I quit looking like a stuffed sausage. As it turns out, I don't look like any sort of tubular lumpy meat at all any more!

I must have stayed in the dressing room a while because the saleslady tapped on my door to ask if I needed some help in there. I'm not exactly big on strangers invading my personal space to help disrobe me, so after a quick "No, thank you," I stepped out of the red dress and into a black one labeled Medium. While the black dress fit perfectly, it just didn't feel near as satisfying, probably because "Medium" captures an array of sizes whereas "Size 6" just sounds precisely skinny.

Unfortunately, I walked out of Dillard's exactly the way I arrived--without shopping bags. After all, it was the end of the month, and like its user, my checking account had also lost a good amount of weight. Really, the only thing gained that day was motivation to keep going with my diet. Let's just hope I don't fatten up around the first of the month like my checking account has done.

Word Vomit--Because I Have a Lot of Stuff on My Mind

I don't want to go back to school next week--not because I don't like my job. I really do. However, my job doesn't permit me to spend all day with Jude. Boo! We've had a great week this week while Jeffrey was at Band Camp. We spent the week with my parents who actually live a stone's throw away from us, but we decided to treat this week like a vacation of sorts. Hey, my parents' new digs come equipped with HBO, a bath tub worthy of an R&B music video setting, and Mama's cooking (even though my diet prohibits me from eating most food that tastes good).This place could so pass for a resort. Anyway, Jude and I have had a fantastic time, and I've enjoyed all the time I've gotten to spend with him this week. We've had a great time playing outside, putting together puzzles, pushing trucks, reading books, and reviewing our colors and shapes. Tomorrow, Jeffrey will finish up year ten of HCC band camp, and we'll reunite once again. Even though Jude and I have had a fun week, we have missed Jeffrey something awful.

Because I have lived under my parents' roof this week, I've watched a lot of Fox News. A little backstory--my mother is so conservative that she makes Rush Limbaugh look like a bleeding heart liberal, so Fox News is pretty much white noise in the Wahl household. I actually find the network interesting. Sometimes, I think they report too much on what "could happen," but I do usually find myself agreeing with the commentators. For example, I love how they're calling out Hollywood on the upcoming movie "The Butler." Oprah Winfrey's comment about Trayvon Martin being a "parallel to Emmit Till" just about sent me over the edge. Read a freaking history book, Oprah, or better yet, understand your Mississippi history better, or even better than that, realize you weren't there with Trayvon when he died and therefore don't know what really happened! It's also occurred to me that I may not have spelled this kid's name right. My apologies.

However, I will not apologize for my beliefs/values. Lately, I've seen a lot of people post on social media these memes that basically say, "You're perfect the way you are" or "Don't change." While these memes intend to uplift and inspire, they are absolutely and positively damaging. to humankind. None of us are perfect, and we could all stand to change something about ourselves. I never want anyone to tell me those things because, I know what I'm about, and it's not always pretty. I know my strengths and my weaknesses. I know that I'm smart in what I know, but I don't know a lot. I know I fall short of perfection 100% of the time, but I still want to strive for it because it delights me to try.

Today, I saw video footage of three black guys beating the hell out of a white kid on a school bus. Boy, did that send me on a ride down memory lane to the beginning of the eighth grade where the same thing happened to me, only throw in a pinch of sexual assault with that. This is a time in my life I have never allowed myself to think about, and certainly it doesn't define who I am now, but watching that video footage triggered so many emotions--anger because this crap still happens and people still ignore it, sadness because that kid didn't deserve it, but relief because I'm ok, and I know that given time and a few more awkward teenage years, so will that kid because, as I've stated before, this situation doesn't have to define him. I still believe the only reason I suffered little physical harm comes down to one of two things: 1. It was a short bus ride, and 2. My best friend who was sitting next to me tried her hardest to fight these creeps off of me. I feel terrible for that boy because I know how it feels to be singled out for no apparent reason and to have everyone else act like they never saw a thing, and it's not fun. I also thought about, "What if that was Jude? What if he had been that kid," and it gave me chills when my very next thought was "I would have killed those boys." That thought was only further validated when my mother just outwardly said, "You know, the day you were attacked, I went looking for that boy, and I meant I was going to kill him." I count myself blessed that I have a mother who loves me that much, and I guess I'm grateful that fool on the bus had the sense to run, or otherwise, Jude and I might have vacationed in Parchman this week instead of Gluckstadt. God obviously looks after fools and children.

Well, I want to post something light-hearted in this section, but Geez! That last paragraph is pretty loaded! Oh, here's something. A few weeks ago, a deer jumped out in front of my Jetta, and now Frau Jetta is back in the shop. This is the second time she has taken up residence at Barnett Body Shop, and I can't for the life of me understand why it couldn't be the van instead! The Jetta has been my most favorite car I've ever owned, yet she's the one I've torn up the most. My Honda never had one scratch, and that God forsaken Ranger I drove back in college could not and would not die, bad as I wanted it to. But that Jetta? I just keep putting her in harm's way for some reason. Ridiculous. Anyway, I hope to have her back soon, especially since my mom has loaned me her ride, a Nissan Versa which looks not unlike a clown car. (Every time I drive it, I feel like at least ten more people should pile up in there with me.) Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to have the set of wheels. And for those wondering how my mother is getting around, Fret not. She's got her brand new Cadillac to get her from point A to point B. Evidently, she has really taken to Madison County living! I'm happy for her, but seriously, could she not offer up the Caddy, even for one day? How tacky!

Accomplished

This summer, I somehow managed to accomplish little and much all at the same time. I wish I had even one week longer of summer vacation, but unfortunately, after next week, it's back to Holmes for Year Eight of my career. All and all, I think I can look back and feel proud of what I have done this summer, even if most of it is still in progress.

1. Weight--For years--YEARS--I've struggled with my weight. As it turns out, I realized that my weight gain from seven years ago was completely, totally, and utterly my fault. I ate the junk food, didn't drink the water, partook in carb-only meals, etc. No one made me do it. Sure, I worked out all the time and even took up running (which has become my all time favorite pastime), but no weight loss ever came. I prided myself in gaining only the recommended 25-35 pounds during pregnancy which quickly fell off in less than a year post partum. But truth still remained. Even without the pregnancy weight, I was still heavy, flabby, and downright dumpy.

This summer, I got plenty sick of myself that I made a change. I cut the carbs, the fats, the Cokes, the sugar, etc., and four weeks into the program, I have lost 13 pounds. Funny thing is...I don't even miss that junk! Now, I choose healthy vegetables, sensible proteins (even though this vegetarian finds this part quite challenging, though not impossible), and drink more water in a day than I probably ever have in my life. I feel great. Am I where I want to be on the scale? No. I still have a little over halfway to go before I reach my goal weight. However, I'm finally seeing the light. I no longer feel stuck in the overweight category. In fact, according to my BMI, I about .8 away from being in the "Normal" range of weight. I have complete faith that I will get there, and to think four weeks ago, I had just about lost hope.

2. Writing--I want to be a writer. Like, really bad. I don't want to be a blog writer, although I find this fun. I want to be a serious story-teller. I don't know how to break into the business, and I don't know whom all I need to know to get there. However, I do know this. I need to create a story. A story that I can proudly put my name on and send out to the masses. I need to accept rejection. I need to realize that sometimes it takes first being vulnerable before great things will come. Therefore, I'm taking the logical first step. I started a new story, and I made a friend, one who has published, who offered to critique my work. A small step, I know, but for me who is usually afraid of rejection, a big one. I discovered this summer that I have stories, ones I think others will enjoy. What with my job and child, the process is sure to be slow, but just as I can see myself finally reaching my goal weight, so too can I do this, or at least die trying.

3. Reading--At the beginning of the summer, I had the goal to read ten-twenty books. Yeah, that did not happen. As it turns out, teaching three summer classes really takes it out of a girl! I succeeded in reading 1/2 of a novel I started after Spring Break and about 1/6 of one I just started, totaling not even one whole book. Oops. As I reflect, though, I don't look at this as a failure. Actually, this summer was quite productive what with teaching, weekend getaways, playing with toddlers, talking with Jeffrey, and hanging out with my newly remarried, newly relocated parents. Something had to take a backseat, and I guess reading lost. Besides, the 67% of book that I did read, I really enjoyed and am still enjoying. I've also made a new goal to read just a little every day, either during lunch break, Jude's nap time, first thing in the morning (ok, maybe that's pushing it), but I can do this.

4. Saving--Yesterday, I put a big chunk of money in my savings account, and it felt great. Of course, I didn't save nearly as much as I had originally planned, but my savings account is now significantly fatter than it was.  Also, I refinanced my house yesterday. Not only will my house  be paid off sooner (two whole months sooner, to be exact), but my interest rate is now significantly lower, and somehow, so is my house payment. Sweet.

Even though nothing got completely done this summer, I don't feel bad for what I have started. Because of these accomplishments, I look forward to the upcoming school year. I can enter Holmes this year a little lighter, a little more creative, a little more relaxed and educated, and a little richer. As my father often says, "Well, that's better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick!"

I, Jess Brown, Unapologetically Love...

It occurs to me on a semi-regular basis that I am not the coolest cat on the planet. I mean, hell, I just referenced a cat as a mark of awesomeness (which I do think cats are pretty awesome). Anyway, I lean toward the opinion that since I recognize that I'm somewhat of a less than ideal human being, doesn't that in and of itself earn me numerous cool points? In the last hour or so, I tallied up a few aspects of my life that people would make fun of me about; however, I can't help but love these quirky traits regardless. There are too many uncool aspects of my life to name, but here a few important ones that make me proud.

1.  Hootie and the Blowfish: I can remember where I was the first time I heard "Hold My Hand" (Disc Jockey at Pemberton Square Mall in Vicksburg, circa 1994). My Daddy bought me the CD then and there. I didn't even have to do extra chores. Later that year, my grandparents entered my sister and me in a contest, and I won two tickets to see them in concert--the first rock concert I ever attended without a parent next to me. Honestly, I'm not sure what was better--the concert itself or the t-shirt I bought and wore on my first day of 8th grade.

2. Not having (or wanting) a smart phone: In fact, I rarely check text messages, answer phone calls, or anything of the sort. I'll even take this a step further and admit that I rarely carry the crappy cell phone I do have, and if I'm carrying it, seven times out of ten, the battery is dead. If I need to look something up, I can either wait until I get home or find one of the millions of people attached to his smart phone and charm him into looking up the information for me. Charming somebody works 99.999 all of the time.

3. Knowing technology does not make one smarter: Dumber and lazier, maybe, but not smarter. Don't believe me? Sit in on one of my classes where students have cell phones, ipads, Kindles, laptops, and many other devices all at their disposal. My students know that the way to my heart is through the pages of an actual opened book.

4. Being frugal: Unlike most people I know, I pay cash for everything. In fact, the only debt my husband and I have is our mortgage, which will be paid off in ten years. We do not finance cars, clothes, home repairs, trips, or anything of the sort. If we can't cough up the cash, we can't afford it and therefore do not purchase it. Sure, I often wear last season's skinny jeans, and my car is one step above something the Flintstones would drive. As long as I have some money in the bank, I'll sport a Hypercolor t-shirt from Goodwill and ride a bicycle 30 miles to work if I have to.

5. My child's eating habits--I am OBSESSED with what my child eats. I comb through recipe books and the organic produce section trying to come up with creative and healthy dishes for Jude to try. Some of them he actually likes. It's actually become a favorite hobby of mine.

6. New Orleans--Sure it can smell bad and some have deemed it one of the most dangerous cities in the nation, but I love that place more than any other on Earth. Its culture, food, atmosphere, architecture, and shopping  make New Orleans a place I want to aspire to one day live.


7. Accepting something for what it is--Not too long ago, I innocently made a remark about Chik-Fil-A kids' meals. I like them because they offer grilled chicken and fruit, which makes me feel less guilty about giving Jude fast food in those times where I'm in a pinch. One person actually retorted with "Ugh--Gay Chicken," then went on to admit how guilty it feels to think about how good the food is. Aside from my obvious thought of "Bitch, please," I couldn't help but feel sorry for this person. What's there to feel guilty about? If you're hungry, eat. If you want chicken, a hand spun milkshake, waffle fries, and good service, go there.  That's about as difficult as it should get when it comes to choosing a fast food establishment. Chik-Fil-A is what it is--a local fast food joint. Why people feel they have to exercise their moral compasses over eating some damn chicken is beyond me.


So maybe I'll never win any popularity contests, but I can say this about myself. I have very little shame. I can also add much more to this list of what I love: creative messes, bathroom habits, dirty jokes, crazy folks, tattoos, singing in the grocery store etc. However, my last student just turned in his test, which means I can now pick up my baby and head home!

Dieting, Baby Feet, and Trayvon (guess I'll jump on the band wagon and weigh in)

To start off, I announced on Facebook that I started a diet a little over two weeks ago. I'm not sure why I felt the need to put it out there--maybe for accountability? Anyway, I had gotten to the point where I hated the following: shopping for clothes, going out to eat (because I felt I wouldn't be able to control myself), and looking at myself in the mirror. Anyone who knows me knows this: I'm a sensible shop-a-holic (meaning I pay in cash), eating in local restaurants makes me happy and lends interest to my social life, and I don't exactly call myself vain, but I like trying new make-up techniques, so I must look in a mirror often. When I got to the point where I felt too fat for any of my favorite pastimes, I felt as though I just plain hated myself. It's not that I had all of a sudden gained a ton of weight. Actually, over time, (since grad school if I had to pinpoint when this started), I gained the weight and have hovered over this large number on the scale for a number of years now. I finally just got sick of it, which meant time for a change.

On Facebook, my doctor's office had advertised a free interest meeting for a diet program called Ideal Protein. Of course, being a vegetarian, I thought, "There's no way I could stick to that--too much meat, I bet!" However, something (we'll call him God) urged me to go. A few days after seeing the ad, I dragged my mama with me down to Baptist hospital, and before I knew it, I had signed up for the program. (My mother, however, decided to sit it out and watch me do it first.) As it turns out, the diet is surprisingly vegetarian friendly. Sure, I have a bigger challenge than the other ladies who eat meat, but I'm finding it's not impossible to get in all the protein I need in a day. Also, I no longer crave the bad stuff--you know--the carbs and the fat. For example, I ventured out with my family this morning to the Jackson Zoo for the annual Ice Cream Safari, which is basically a big ol' frozen all-u-can-eat buffet, and I didn't have one bite. Did the ice cream look good? Oh, most definitely! Did I think about what it would taste like? You betcha! So what stopped me from eating? I simply was not hungry for any. Also, I knew I would get something more satisfying later. Anyway, two and a half weeks later, I'm down 10 pounds. I have 30 more pounds to go, so my journey to a better looking me is far from over. Regardless, I'm incredibly motivated to get there.

Moving along to the next topic...

If you've seen my son in the last six months, you know about this--his tip-toe walking. Jude will not put his heels on the ground to save his life. Seriously. He'd sooner die (at least that's the tone his wailing squalls have when we try to touch his heels to the ground). Of course, I've known this was a problem, especially since Jude was a late walker, but I have patiently waited to see if it would correct itself. I'm not the type of mother who flies off the handle over things. Actually, motherhood has had a calming effect on me. I think it's why I don't have a nervous baby. However,  it seems half of my surrounding population tells me, "Oh, I had a child who did the same thing. He'll grow out of it" while the other half feels he should be rushed to the orthopedic doctor and ready to go under for surgery. To say the people in my life who have weighed in on this matter brought nothing but annoyance to me is the biggest understatement since nude colored lipstick. I'm ready to just pop off and say, "Are you paying these doctor bills? Are you buying his shoes? Oh, you're not?  Have I asked you for your opinion? Then back off!" In all fairness, I've asked a few trusted souls for their opinions, so I'm not talking about them.

Anyway, Jeffrey and I have made a decision about what we will do concerning Jude's gait. Here it is: It's none of your business. Yes, we are taking care of the issue the way we see best. No, we are not "NOT" doing anything about it so no need to worry. We have been just as concerned this whole time about Jude's walking as everyone else has, but we also feel we shouldn't make a big deal about it in front of Jude so as not to give him a complex about himself. At his age, we want him to understand that he is perfectly Jude.

And finally...

I don't have much to say (but do I have some thoughts about it!) about the Trayvon Martin case, and you know why? Because I wasn't there when it all happened, much like everyone else I know. (Although, I'm willing to bet that Trayvon was not exactly showing that same precious smile from the picture of him the media put out when Zimmerman first encountered him. Oh, wait. I wasn't there. My bad.) I do know this, though, after being summoned to many many jury duties. The people selected for the jury do not take the process lightly. Also, the jury is shown every piece of evidence, and they listen intently before making a decision. And believe me, they make an informed decision. That's all I'm going to say about that.