About Me:

Every once in a while I get a little pang of conviction. And I get reminded of how selfish I can be. Not necessarily selfish, but self-centered. And I don't meant that in a snotty way. I mean it in the "centered on self" way.

I try to blame it on just not paying attention. But, like they say, ignorance is no excuse for the law. Not too long ago, I was writing my boyfriend an e-mail and I was in a rather moody state. It doesn't happen very often, but I started thinking of all of the ways I could be a better person. A better friend. A better roommate. A better teacher. A better neighbor. A better runner. And really, what it boiled down to is that in order to make myself better I had to own less of myself.

I have this habit to think about people I love; and then not do anything to share with them that I'm thinking about them. Or tell people I'm going to pray about something (with every intention to do so) and then not do it. To be a better friend I have to STOP what I'm doing and act on my thoughts.

I have a really great roommate. And it's crazy-weird how well we get along because we are really quite different. But lately I've been bombing in the communication category; and then instead of trying to fix it I worry about making her mad at me. To be a better roommate I have to remember that I am not the only one who lives in my house.

I love teaching. And I feel like I am good at it. But I don't like to be told how to be better at it. And I don't like to reflect on my teaching. But after some serious (and long overdue) reflection, I realized that in order to be a GREAT teacher I must change what I believe. I must take that extra time and prepare. I must extend my workday until I'm completely ready for the next one. Because it doesn't do anyone any favors to know *what* I'm doing; but not *how* I'm doing it. To be a better teacher I must donate my time and my organizational skills to my students. I must stretch my patience to its full elasticity; rather than just until it's still comfortably bouncy.

I have the greatest neighbors. On all sides. However, I have been taking my sweet time tearing down and (eventually) putting up a new fence. And while they say they don't mind; I can be a much better neighbor by actually following through and getting this fence done. I have time in my day. To be a better neighbor by following through, and sacrificing my alone time a little bit until the job gets done.

I love running. I run because I tend to not like to try at most things. But running is hard. It makes me tired. It makes me persevere. It forces me to take regular showers. It makes feel feel like I've accomplished something that a lot of other people just can't do. But the problem is that I don't push myself. I run at a comfortable pace, and I run for a comfortable distance. I don't try to get better, I just stay where I am. And the reason I started running in the first place was to try to make myself better. So now, to be a better runner, that means I actually have to push. I have to be consistent. I have to work my core. I have to be uncomfortable.

And I think that running makes this an entire metaphor for my life.
It's true. I did start running because I felt like I didn't know what it feels like to try. Or to hurt. Or to be so tired I couldn't move. Because I don't put that much effort into anything. Relationships. Work. School. Fence-building. Anything. And when my outlet that is supposed to make me feel becomes "just another thing to try to make time for" I know I have to let go. I have to let go of myself and get up and push harder. I have to become uncomfortable. I have to push beyond my means. I have to sacrifice my time.

On Facebook there's a part in the profile where it says "About Me:"
I have a friend who pricked my heart when she put it perfectly in two words:

It's Not.