The Musings Of A Libra INFJ. You Were Warned.

I've been subbing on a morning high school bus run before my preschool runs. There are a group of ninth grade girls (around 14 to 15 years of age) who sit right behind me, and as they talk loudly enough in order to hear each other in separate seats, I can't help but overhear their conversations.

On Friday morning, they were kind of bragging about not having filters on what they say. I smiled quietly to myself while I listened to them. Their language was clean, they were respectful of each other, and while they were speaking over the noise of the bus engine, they weren't speaking loudly in order to get attention. So, sorry, kids, but you've got filters. And I appreciate that. There were plenty of the kids towards the back of the bus that don't have filters, and I could hear that, too.

Then I started musing about my own filters. Where some people truly say whatever pops into their heads, I've got my filters set to "high." On a scale of one to ten, mine are set at eleven. I hardly ever speak before I think. Even in casual conversation, my brain is constantly calculating word usage, how appropriate any given statement is in that context, and whether or not I might offend where I don't mean to offend--now that I'm not a child with young and irritating siblings. I edit words on paper, but I also edit everything I do and say. My in-laws call me "diplomatic," which is a kind way of saying that I hardly ever blurt out what I truly think. 

It's just become worse over the years, and I was a surprisingly diplomatic young person, as well. 

I'm not saying being diplomatic is bad, of course. Diplomacy is fast becoming a lost art in our increasingly angry, more divisive social culture. But am I quiet about my true feelings because I don't want to give offense or because I hate confrontation so very much? Both, I'm sure. I've got what most people would think are very weird opinions, and I don't care to hear others critique those opinions if they haven't also put in a lot of time researching, learning, and educating themselves about the subject. Also, I haven't made concrete decisions about many subjects. I don't think out loud that much (at least, not to others. I do talk to myself quite a bit to sort out my thoughts), and it takes a long time to quietly ponder my opinions about many things. I hate making snap judgements, and I am also intensely aware that I usually don't have all the facts. My opinions are often fluid, changing as I encounter new information. As good as I am at making conversation, I am not very good at admitting my deeper feelings and opinions until I feel very, very comfortable with that person, and even then, I have quite a big area in my head that is inaccessible to anyone. 

I think the term for that is "guarded."

As guarded as I am, I am always willing to give someone else the benefit of the doubt. If I haven't had experience that the person I'm engaging with has less-than-noble intentions, I prefer to like them as long as possible. Everyone is flawed, and everyone makes both good and bad choices, and I'm willing to meet a person where they're at, not where I wish they would be. It takes quite a bit for me to truly dislike someone, sometimes even if my radar is telling me something is wrong. I even gave my sister's old boyfriend--a narcissistic, horrible, abusive man--quite a bit of leeway for at least a couple days (which is more than he deserved). I'll make up stories to explain stupid behavior in others (in the absence of facts) so that I don't have to walk around feeling angry that people really are out to get me. I can't control other people, so I don't want to be always angry with them.

I think the term for that is "naively optimistic."

This is a trait that drives my friend and bus aide, Kris, bonkers. She's very good at reading people, and she doesn't have a lot of patience with or optimism about most people. She's lived a difficult life filled with a wide mix of men and women who have mostly hurt her. Not all, but most. I'm surprised she's still as optimistic and friendly as she is and that she still believes in love. She's incredibly strong. But she's been abused and neglected, which has made her hyper-aware of body language and intention. My life, on the other hand, has been easy, and I've never been in a situation where I felt like the people around me were truly trying to hurt me either physically or emotionally (parts of junior high and high school excepted, of course). If it came to a contest on who could immediately pick out the people who will be nice to you until you don't give them what they want, Kris wins every time. She's always right about that and I'm almost always wrong. I yield to her superior intuition.

I'm not sad that I am predisposed to like people or to be friendly, though. A kind answer really does turn away wrath in most cases. Being kind and giving people the benefit of the doubt has protected me from harm in many ways, I think, because people will usually try to live up to your positive expectations of them, though that isn't why I am kind. Every person has beauty, even that horrible ex-boyfriend of my sister's or that guy who was incredibly rude for no reason when I parked the bus at the tennis courts last year. I just want to start with the assumption that the beauty is there before I have to learn to walk away from a person because of their behavior. I won't, however, walk into a place or situation that feels dangerous. Kindness has its limits, and I don't have to be personally harmed to know that some people get pleasure out of hurting others.

But back to filters. Facebook is a minefield of problems for me, which is why I happily quit it for so long. The only reason I reactivated my account is because I'm the Relief Society president, and with so many women expressing themselves only through social media, I felt like I should be there so I could catch any issues or needs that might come up in my ward. But I can't bring myself to share my thoughts and opinions there. First of all, who cares? Secondly, I want to like people. My filters are too high to allow me to comfortably share my opinions with people who used to be my friends but are now mostly strangers, and whose opinions, therefore, I don't really value. But this isn't a post about Facebook. It's a wandering, musing post about the question I have about who I am without filters. Without my overly active sense of watching myself in every word and every behavior, what would I think? What would I say? 

That's the true question I have. Who am I? This woman I am, this woman I've become has a wall a thousand miles thick around her. I'm not complaining or saying I've had a hard life, because my life has been absolutely wonderful. I'm just surprised, and I'm just figuring it out, something each and every one of us is doing. I'm a guarded, naively optimistic introvert who can act like an extrovert without often opening the gate to her heart, even if I love deeply and forever once I do love. I'm such a typical INFJ. (laughs) Not sure how I feel about that. The facts are still coming in, so a final judgment can't be made yet.

We'll see where it goes. 

Sorry for this annoyingly self-pandering post. This is me thinking out loud.  

This Is Gallifrey

My brother and his wife are both ridiculously intelligent. It follows, therefore, that their children would most likely turn out to be ridiculously intelligent, as well. And they all are, as well as utterly adorable.

This is Emily, my niece, my brother's and sister-in-law's oldest daughter. She has been composing music since she was little (the music genes run strong in my family), and she's developed into quite an accomplished cellist and pianist. Emily and Elannah are just a couple months apart in age, so Emily is also a senior in high school.

I just couldn't be more proud of her and how she's developed her talents.

Haircut

I cut my hair off.

Here's before:

Here's after:

Why I tend to chop off my hair mid-winter is a mystery even to myself. But despite how cold my neck now is, I really like it. I always like it at this length, so I'm not sure why I let it grow out.

Note to self: get a trim every six to eight weeks, girl!

Ich Habe Meine Neues Lieblingsbuch Gefunden!

There must be a German word for the feeling of finding the latest addition to one of your favorite series by one of your favorite authors sitting on the new arrivals shelf at your local public library. The Germans have some good words for these kinds of things. If you know of this one, please tell me because it needs to get into my lexicon.

As it is, one of the very friendly and indulgent librarians had to put up with me dancing around a bit with the book in my hands.

The book to which I am referring is Alan Bradley's newest Flavia de Luce novel, The Golden Tresses of the Dead.

I tried to read it slowly. I really did. I savored it and made myself wait until bedtime each day before picking it up, but I was still done in three evenings. Too fast. Too fast.

My Next Concert (a virtual experience)

I've had some people ask me what my choir is singing this season. No, really, I have! So I thought I'd put together a virtual concert for those who like that sort of thing. My father-in-law is not in love with the diverse pieces we do. I think he prefers things he's familiar with, but I would find that infinitely bo-o-o-o-oring.

I don't have any recordings of my actual choir, but I've tried to find some really good recordings of the pieces we're doing, and I've listed them in the order in which we're doing them.

Let me set the scene for you:

The lights dim in the mostly concrete Episcopalian sanctuary where we perform. The choir walks in from the back and greets members of the audience, as per our tradition. A tenor walks up and stands on the dais, facing the audience. He begins the call, and the choir members respond wherever they're standing.

(Bonse Aba, a traditional Zambian song, arranged by Andrew Fischer)



The choir is now all gathered on the stand. One of our members greets the audience, cracks a joke or two, and then announces the next two pieces: All Creatures of our God and King, arr. by Mark Hayes; and All That Hath Life and Breath Praise Ye the Lord!, arr. by Rene Clausen.





It's time to change gears. Another choir members announces the next two songs: And So It Goes, by Billy Joel, arr. by Bob Chilcott; and the women will sing The Pink Panther, by Henry Mancini, arr. by Jay Althouse (whether or not we'll be sporting pink boas is yet to be determined).



I couldn't find a YouTube performance with just women that I liked, but this one fits the spirit of it the best.



The choir comes together again for Animal Crackers, Vol. 1, text by Ogden Nash, music by Eric Whitacre (one of my absolute favoritist choral composers. We'll hear his stuff again a bit later in the concert.).

Here are the lyrics:
i. The Panther
The panther is like a leopard
Except it hasn't been peppered.
If you behold a panther crouch
Prepare to say "ouch."
Better yet, if called by a panther
Don't anther.

ii. The Cow
The cow is of the Bovine ilk
One end is moo, the other milk

iii. The Firefly
The firefly's flame is something for which science has no name.
I can think of nothing eerier
than flying around with an unidentified glow
on a person's posterior.



It's time for the men to sing something, and they give us a rousing rendition of Tamure I Tahiti Nei.



It's still time for fun, fast music, so the entire choir gets back together for Fiddlin' Jamboree, by Linda Spevacek. One of our choir members is our fiddler. We do not have cool Aussie accents like these guys, though.



Let's take the mood to a quieter place with our next three pieces. Eric Whitacre wrote a triptych called "Three Songs of Faith." We are singing the first two in that triptych here. The text for all three pieces is based on poems by e.e. cummings. The first two follow each other with no break.

i will wade out, text by e.e. cummings, music by Eric Whitacre.

Find the text here. It's also visual, so I don't want to ruin it.



hope, faith, life, love, text based on a poem by e.e. cummings, music by Eric Whitacre.



While we are not singing the third part of that triptych, we are singing another song based on one of e.e. cummings' poems: i carry your heart with me, text by e.e. cummings, music by David C. Dickau.



It's been quiet and sweet for a while, so it's time to bring it up a notch. Our last two pieces are rousing: Soon-ah Will Be Done, by William L. Dawson; and the impossibly fast Indian tongue-twister Balleilakka, by A.R. Rahman, arr. by Ethan Sperry.





Thank you, thank you for the applause. We're so glad you came! Please enjoy refreshments in the parish hall, and be sure to come to our Christmas concert in December.

Funny How My Family Always Sneaks In

Guess what! I was completely surprised to be named the school district's Outstanding Bus Driver of the Year for 2018-2019. 

Sadly, it seems I have forgotten to take a picture of my shiny, new, magnetic plaque, which is now hanging in my bus, so you'll just have to look at a picture of Sophia reading to kids at the library instead. I think that's much more entertaining anyway.

Little girls love sparkly crowns. Big girls also love sparkly crowns.

Quick (ha!) news shorts:

Elannah snagged the plum casting she wanted as Anita in the high school's production of West Side Story. Anita is an alto and Maria is a soprano, and Elannah has no illusions that she can belt high enough up the register to do Maria's part, so she was thrilled to be cast as Anita as her last big hurrah in her senior year (plus, her beautiful best friend, who has a lovely soprano voice, got cast as Maria, so they get to work together). She's also the dance captain for the drama department, so she's been working hard to teach her choreography, which (in my humble mom opinion) is really good. She tells me about her experiences in trying to herd a group of dramatic and mostly uncoordinated kids through the steps, and I've been thrilled with the leadership skills she's had to learn.

Here's a short video of Elannah dancing with her ex-boyfriend (who was also her ex at the time, although they've been able to establish a good post-breakup friendship) dancing at the last Christmas concert. Elannah had to choreograph some moves for this, and I only remembered to record the last little bit because I was so engrossed in watching the concert without a phone in front of my face.



Sian, Nathan, and grandson Tyler are all doing well. Nathan just interviewed for a well-paid intern position writing software for a military contractor, and it looks like he'll get hired on in early March. Tyler is sitting up all by himself and is a happy, contented baby who is the light of his Nanna's eyes (in case you weren't quite sure yet how much I adore my grandson). And Sian has not gone insane while taking care of an infant and living in a very small apartment when it's too cold to go outside a lot and she doesn't always have a car. Seriously, when you're a mom to infants, not going insane can be a big win, even if you love your baby more than life itself.

He's old enough to start grabbing his parents' glasses off their faces.

Sophia and Gabrielle are both rising stars at their work (they work in the same place). Each of them has different strengths, and they're being given leadership positions in different departments, where their individual strengths shine. Gabrielle, for instance, saw a need in the training department and wrote training manuals that now allow them to effectively train far more people in a much quicker time-frame than before. Sophia is heading into customer relations, where she and a couple other kids are shaping the new and growing customer relations department. They plan on getting Elannah an interview there after she graduates, as there are no objections from the higher-ups about hiring multiple members of the same family--although they warn that Elannah will have to live up to some high expectations set by her sisters. I'm sure Elannah is up to the task.

While Gabrielle has developed a good group of friends where she lives, Sophia still comes up here every weekend. Her boyfriend lives and works up here, for one thing (he's the head trainer at our local VASA gym. He's a really good guy), and she often has to do things in her Miss [Our City] capacity. Plus, she and Elannah are very, very close, and I know they miss each other so much when they're not together. I would love for Sophia to make more friends where she lives, but at least we get to see her on the regular, while Gabrielle doesn't often travel up here, and I miss her.

Husband created a mantel around our previously boring and unremarkable gas fireplace. The trim was a gift from his parents for Christmas, and he did the tiling with laminate wood flooring samples arranged in a random pattern. 

Joseph just got approved for the homebound program with his high school, where a teacher is assigned to him and visits him on a regular basis in our home. His social anxiety has been a huge obstacle for him in attending traditional school, so I'm glad there are options. One thing he's doing that he has found very helpful is to play online games with other people. He knows not to share personal information, but he plays with people from all over the world. He has to talk to them one-on-one, and that forces him to develop his conversational skills while giving him the relief of not being face-to-face. This experience is helping him reduce the stress he feels in social interactions, which is mostly caused because he has an inflated sense of worry about making a mistake and being found out as a total loser. His anxiety and depression have been a very difficult thing for him and for us, as his parents, to deal with, and it's been heart-breaking in many ways. But Joseph also found a way to earn money for himself as a survey-taker. It doesn't pay much, but it's money he makes on his own, and he's really proud of getting checks for that work. It builds his self-esteem. He used some of his money to create a printed calendar that includes some hilariously terrible photographs of internet memes. My kids have a very specific sense of humor. I think it's very dry and British, and Joseph's calendar is an example of it. We spent quite a while laughing over it.

Here, Joseph and I discuss bird anatomy while I have Mrs. Puff, his albino parakeet, sitting on my shoulder.



Little Gary is shooting up like he wants to go buy new trousers and shirts every week because he's growing out of them so fast. He hates shopping, of course, but he refuses to stop growing, so that's a conflict that won't be resolved for the next five or six years at least. He's still best friends with our neighbor, Molly, who is growing up to be a darling young woman. The fact that she puts up with Little Gary and some of his more annoying youngest-child quirks makes me love her even more. Little Gary is developing a real talent for writing and drawing. Gabrielle has been encouraging him in his art, which makes him really happy because he deeply admires her drawing abilities, and his dad and I have been encouraging him to write, write, write.

Me and Little Gary, who is not so little anymore.[

I was going to write something else entirely, but my family just snuck in there, as usual. It's been a while, so I guess it's good that I chronicle our adventures in case anyone is interested. Me. I'm interested. Maybe my kids will see this in the future and have fond memories.

Merry Christmas!

When we take road trips, I usually drive. I like driving when I haven't just finished a full day of bus runs.

When we're going anywhere farther than about an hour away, it never fails that all my children suddenly feel the need to start texting me at the same time about various subjects. In those cases, I hand my phone over to whomever is in the passenger's seat and dictate responses. When it's Husband doing the texting, however, he starts typing whatever he wants to, and his responses quickly tip off the kids that I'm not the one who is answering them.

Here's a text convo between me and Gabrielle. Or, rather, Gabrielle and Husband, as I was in the driver's seat. She'd noticed a hole in her tooth and was kind of freaking out. Arrows point to obvious Dad-style responses.

My texting conversations with Elannah revolve heavily around two subjects: her asking me for a ride, and her asking me for money. My first two girls hardly ever asked for money. Elannah and Sophia, however, have developed expensive hobbies and tastes. Sophia has a good job now, so she pays for herself 100%, but Elannah is between jobs and still feels she has a lifestyle to maintain, as exhibited in the following conversation.

As I recall, I rejected the proposition after briefly considering it. She does have a gift card for Panda Express coming to her tomorrow for Christmas. She'll probably cry. But she'll cry even harder when she finds out that Gabrielle and Sophia teamed up to pay for driving lessons so she can finally get her driver's license. Of course, once that happens, I'll never get to drive again because I'll never be able to get my hands on my car.

Here's a picture I snapped last night when all six (seven, counting the son-in-law) of my children, my mom, in-laws, a nephew, and two of my siblings, and a sibling's significant other were here and the house was full of merriment and food and love.

It's Husband and Tyler, my grandson. Is Tyler not the absolute most cutest thing to ever grace this earth? Not that I'm biased or anything. He's over five months old now, the little chunk. He's been on a high-calorie formula for a while now, and I think he's ready to come off it. And just look at his pointy ears! So adorable!

The man holding him is pretty great, too.

In conclusion, Merry Christmas to you, dear reader. I wish only the best for you. I wish you a year full of good things and the hope and faith that when hard things happen, there is light waiting for you during and after your trials. I send you all the love in my heart. I add my prayer to the prayers of angels and dear ones gone before that you are always watched over. And may delicious pies be a part of your holiday season.