Follow by Email

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

How to wake up from a nightmare

Hey everyone!

Long time no blog, huh? To be clear, I haven't been here for a while and the reason isn't just because I'm writing Fan Fiction, although a Daniel Jackson escape is always nice, and it hasn't been because I haven't had plenty to talk about, because I do, but it's simply because I haven't had anything funny to talk about.

Why not?

So far it just hasn't been a funny year.

Let's not confuse ourselves as the less intelligent often do. The world is not black and white, but a myriad of shades of grey in between. If you think otherwise, I hope daddy's money and connections hold out for you, because you gonna have a RUDE awakening in the real world. 2013 has been an ok year and has taught me a lot.

Fine, ok, she's rambling at 5 a.m. (if you are checking the timestamp) what is this about and today my topic is about heros. You see, when people get into these debates about who or what can have an impact on your life like they are the judge & jury of all being, I tend to shut up, which for me is rare because usually I only shut up to prevent something serious like starting a family feud. But I had a dream last night and yeah, I'm gonna use some names because people need to be called out and praised for their behavior.

The dream starts as I am getting papers back as an undergrad from a woman who taught me math in high school. Now I won't give a name here but let's just say that she's one of those "my way is the only way people" and had me convinced I was an idiot at Math. (Uh, yeah, I'm not, one of my COLLEGE professors showed me that. And your comment on homeschooling my kids and my sister - all are excelling in life and know more about social skills than I hear you STILL do.) In the dream though, she is teaching English, and I am getting 50's and 70's (grades I never get and never used to get) for not writing full essays on a test where it only asked for parts of the essays. (i.e. write thesis and into and first sentence of first body paragraph). So, as I would do now or did then, I went to see the teacher and ask why and what I could do to get better. This teacher, however, not only chooses to mock me in that 'I think I am smart and sassy and sarcastic and funny but really I am just mean' kind of way but to berate me in front of the class. After back and forth for what seemed for forever, she basically tells me that I suck as a writer and there is no helping me.

Funny thing.

That happened, just not her and I'm not talking about Surprise Package. I was told essentially the same thing by a professor at R-MC who unfortunately still teaches there. Not only that but this woman does it in front of another student (back to dream) and I completely lose it, crying my eyes out asking why she won't she help me improve. Her answer: Some people don't belong here.

Some people don't belong here. 

Who in the FUCK decides that? In anything, who are YOU to judge the place of another, especially someone who strives to do better for themselves, to enhance their life experience. Who are YOU? Are you GOD? Because if that answer to that question is NO, then you need to shut your ignorant mouth. It's not just that it's mean and wrong to treat another person like that, sick, it's that no matter how strong the person, no matter how hard you try, things like that come back and haunt you.

And you have dreams about a Math teacher that said crappy things to you as a student and when you went back to teach in that hellhole of a high school when you are 32 years old.

Ah! But, I'm not just blogging about a silly nightmare and a bully, though I would love and am tempted to start calling people OUT for their idiocy, but this is about heroes.

Enter James Scanlon.

Before Daniel Jackson/Michael Shanks motivated me to change my stars I was that "trailer park" kid in an elite college told that I didn't belong. And on some levels I didn't, because a Patrick Henry High School education prepared me for very little, not because I didn't have some great teachers, but because the curriculum was so watered down I had no idea what it really was to earn an 'A.'
Dr. Scanlon, on the other hand, was the HARDEST professor at Randolph-Macon College, the HARDEST, but he NEVER gave up on any student that tried, NEVER. He spent countless hours with me, bringing me up to speed, and when an event in my personal life almost made me give it all up, he refused to let me quit. So it really shouldn't have surprised me when he showed up in my dream as I marched through town in tears, headed for the registrar.

The last words I remember before waking up crying: I'm not gonna let you quit.

I sobbed for fifteen minutes after I awoke.

It's a silly dream; I have finished college AND grad school and do well at my job. I have nothing to be worried or insecure about other than common things, I want you people to like my fiction, I want to have friends based on the content of my character and not the fact that I spoke to you and let you talk about people for two hours. I have spent a lot of time cutting people out of my life that are toxic, but it takes falling asleep and being your most vulnerable to really see what is important.

You have no idea how important you can be in someone else's life with one seemingly small action.

Thanks Dr. Scanlon. You even became a hero in my dreams.

1 comment:

  1. The subconscious is a strange thing. Dr Scanlon is right. Hugs.