The real problem is I only blog when I feel sad or funny. Jessica – Cecily = Not so funny and Jessica + Not at Disneyland = Not Sad. Not Sad : No Blog :: Not Funny : … No Blog. (I’m studying for the GRE… fyi- : stands for “is to” and :: stands for “ as”) Additionally, the blog is LemmonPeelS— emphasis on the plural— and currently I’m the only peel left on this rotten rind. But I did want to let the world (or the two people who may read this blog) know that “it (dland) is funny now” or at least behind me, although still somewhat embarrassing. Don’t bring it up around me.
So, what do I write about now? Maybe my job as a substitute teacher and the day that an eighth grade history class went “Freedom Writers” on me? Because the last 25 minutes the class started a debate on racism and attitudes toward color today, with questions about racial profiling, the term “nigger” (nigga), and reverse discrimination, which culminated in the class’ emphatic declaration that the solution was to stand united, if only in that class— to have each other’s backs and to “hold hands across the world”. The entire class, boys and girls from varied backgrounds, held hands in a big circle, cell phones out recording the moment. “We are One” was then written and signed on the whiteboard (nothing against blackboards). None of this was prompted by me… I was just lucky enough to witness it and I hope I never forget.
Or I could bemoan the Dating Awareness Month (D.A.M. or Dating Awareness Month Nonsense) that the Bishop of our singles ward has implemented, encouraging dating as a serious priesthood responsibility.
I live in fear.
Friday and Saturday nights are my junk food and pj, relax-at-home nights. I miss you, Disney Channel. I wish you existed, Saboyf.
Or I could brag about the rad distance team I’m coaching with Kay Nekota and how fast they’re going to be this season.
But the most intriguing thing I can think of writing about is the hot pink, foot-tall, felt figurine of Jesus Christ sitting on the desk of the FFA teacher I’m subbing for right now. It’s almost as cool as the Jesus band-aid that Everett sent me from New York (Jesus Heals!), which Jordyn won by default in our Real-Life-Wii-Sports-Competition that we never finished.
Wiffleball didn’t count, Jordy.
I was so moved I composed my feelings in verse. I’d love for someone to put it to music. I’m thinking big-band or jazz. It could be in the next edition of the hymnal.
Jesus, in felt
The incline
Of your humble head
That I climb
To reach the
Beckoning hands
Laid at your breast,
Soft as felt.
Neon like a zealot—
The intensity of
My Hot Pink faith.
The Divine inspiration
To erect and endure
The didactic statuette—
The Apogee of the Veracity
Of the Grandeur of our Lord—
Whose Dread hand did thou form?
Don’t worry, I asked Mr. Johnson where he got it on my sub report. If it’s on sale, I might be able to pick one up for my mom (she loves pink… and Jesus). And just in time for Valentines Day!
