My determined honesty has exacerbated my current job search because I want to change fields, but I’m still best qualified to be a high school English teacher. The awful consequence of the past two years was getting all the training I need to be a teacher for the rest of my life and losing all the motivation to do that very thing. Now I face the task of searching for a new job and convincing potential employers that I’m still young, flexible, and qualified enough to switch to doing whatever it is that they do.

I managed the convincing once already. A very small youth ministry program in Seattle offered me a place, but I declined the offer. After college and grad school plus service, I need a job. I have bills to pay.

The temptation to exaggerate and outright lie does inevitably rise. And it’s lucrative (cf. Turnitin for admissions essays, Catch Me If You Can, and a guy who conned Harvard for years). Saying the wrong thing in an interview by telling too much too soon (or not enough…ever) could cost me a job. I can’t afford that, but I also can’t afford the weight of a lie on my conscience.

Just Wright (Queen Latifah, Common, James Pickens Jr.): I went to see this movie on a whim. The rest of my family was going, and I hate being left home while they go out to do something I enjoy (as opposed to being left home during, say, a soccer game). The acting was nothing special, though Queen Latifah definitely seemed more comfortable than Common did. The story is sports-based: she plays a physical therapist and huge New Jersey Nets fan who wanders into her favorite player’s path, but her “godsister” snags him as the one who’ll fulfill her dream of being an NBA trophy wife. (An awful dream, I know.) I’ve definitely seen better romantic comedies. I like it when rom-coms are actually funny; this really wasn’t. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re desperate to beat the heat.

Coraline: My ex-boyfriend loved Neil Gaiman, the author upon whose book this movie is based. I love stop-motion animation and have a soft spot for The Nightmare Before Christmas. The pacing was very, very slow. Much slower than I would expect from anything even for teenagers. It was dark, as I expected, but kid-friendly black comedy remains restricted to A Series of Unfortunate Events. Coraline Jones is a young girl who finds a secret door to another world (no white rabbit here) where everything is exactly as she wants it, but of course there’s something sinister. It reminded me less of Narnia and more of Pan’s Labyrinth, though far less violent, of course! I would recommend it as a late-night watch (which is when I saw it), but it wasn’t particularly magical.

Toy Story 3: I went with my mom to see it in 3-D. As I mentioned in my Avatar review, I am not a fan of 3-D movies because I already wear glasses. However, Avatar’s 3-D effects were noticeable enough to make that extra worth it. TS3‘s were not. That said, you must see the 2-D version! I was wary at first because threequels are so rarely good, but I am glad my friends’ facebook reviews convinced me otherwise. I enjoyed the story immensely because it picked up where the second left off and brought the movie to a beautiful closure. I definitely cried for the last five minutes, and I am not a movie crier. The Barbie-Ken relationship was very well handled, the new mystery was intriguing, and I felt absolutely satisfied with its end. Another winner for Disney and Pixar.

Enchanted: I was supposed to watch this movie at the CSC with all my friends (or at least the girls), but I was on my first ACE retreat that weekend. I caught it on Syfy last night, and it was glorious. I was disappointed that I couldn’t really hear McDreamy’s singing, but I loved Giselle. She knew how to work ingenue. I wasn’t quite satisfied with Nancy’s instantly marrying Prince Edward in the end. Wasn’t the whole point Giselle and Robert were making that true love takes time? I’m a big fan of “worlds collide”-type stories (not just Who Framed Roger Rabbit), so I loved Enchanted.

So, see, I have been watching something other than Degrassi this summer.

On the drive home, my saint bracelet broke. I’ve been wearing it on my right wrist (since I keep my watch on my left) every day since I got it four years ago. Lacy, the CDA Regent at the time, brought a whole bag of them back from Rome, blessed by the Holy Father (already B16 then). I instantly fell in love with it. It was, at the time, my only blessed object, and by the pope, no less! It united me with the CSC and my CDA sister. And more than that, it gave me a subtle but instant and clear outward sign of my Catholicism. It was perfect.

Goodbye, Saint Bracelet

My students in Alabama were intrigued by my saint bracelet. At the first school, most of my students weren’t Catholic, so their interest was particularly piqued. At the second, many of the students were Catholic, so they wanted to wear them, too. (Of course you don’t have to be Catholic to wear Catholic jewelry.)

As the years passed, it got more worn and torn. The beads lost their gold paint, the elastic inside was stretched out. Finally, it broke. I was heartbroken. I ordered a shiny new replacement and buried the old one in the backyard with far too much solemnity for a cheap piece of jewelry. It feels good to have a saint bracelet back on my wrist, but it will never quite be the same.

Sarah and I headed downtown a bit later than intended, but we got to WorkPlay during the opening act, Matthew Mayfield. He was good, but nothing magical. Since we were so late, though, we wound up near the back of the hall. I had a great view, though, being behind enough people, and Sarah found some good gaps to look through.

Before the concert started, some of the crew wheeled an enormous plastic case back near the sound board, where Sarah and I were standing. I thought it was strange that they’d move something so huge so late. The thing was half the size of my car, though not as tall. Shortly afterward, the band came out on stage, sans Jon, and began to play. As I anxiously awaited Jon’s delayed entrance, I heard a voice to my right shout, “Hello, Birmingham!” I screamed. Jon Foreman himself had apparently climbed out of the enormous case and was standing on it, right over me!

I was in awe.

That was one of the most awesome moments of my life. He started the concert by singing the first verse and chorus of “Needle and Haystack Life” from his perch above us there. Never have I been so glad to be in the back!

The rest of the concert was not as amazing as that, but pretty awesome nevertheless. As I had seen in previous concert reviews, Jon broke out an enormous red drum to play during “Free.” He played piano on “Always,” and Chad switched to a single drum and shaker for “Yet.” They did not play “Ammunition,” one of my upbeat faves, or “Only Hope,” but I was satisfied.

By taking a few stealth photos before the show started, I got the set list early and had neither to wonder nor take notes during the concert. It also meant that I knew they’d encore. The “surprise” was spoiled, but not the group sing of the “ooh” lines to “Hello, Hurricane” we used to lure them back.

• Needle and Haystack Life
• Mess of Me
• Gone
• Stars
• Bullet Soul
• Always
• Learning to Breathe
• This Is Your Life
• The Sound (John M. Perkins’ Blues)
• Free
• Sabotage (Beastie Boys cover)
• Yet
• Your Love Is a Song
• Awakening
• Meant to Live
• Hello Hurricane (first encore song)
• Dare You to Move (second encore song)

Switchfoot in Birmingham

After the encore, I was very tired and starting to develop the cold that would precede and mingle with my temporary new allergies later that week (which was, of course, Holy Week). Jon is known to do acoustic concerts in the street after shows, but I had to teach the next day. I slept until 5 a.m. and drove straight to school (in Montgomery) on Tuesday morning. Was I exhausted all day in school? Pretty much. Was it worth the incredible journey? Absolutely.

I went to bed just after midnight with the intent of getting up early (read: before 10 a.m.), going to confession and daily Mass at the Shrine, and buying a new saint bracelet at the Shrine gift shop. Yes, a moment of heartbreak: the saint bracelet I have been wearing every single day for four years, including for my college senior portraits, broke on my wrist on my way back from the UMD campus on Tuesday. I scheduled today’s Shrine visit because I need a replacement.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out of bed until 9:40, which meant that I was barely ready to go before 11:30. (I had given up on confession already. The irony is not lost on me.) I realized that I would be too late for Mass, so I decided to swing by the Franciscan Monastery in hopes of a later one.

Unfortunately again, my plans for daily Mass were thwarted. I noticed, though, that there would be a guided tour starting at 1. Desiring to do something productive with my day, I decided to stick around for it. You can only visit the catacomb replicas with a guide, and I was already downtown, so I thought, why not? I found some lovely bracelets in the gift shop, but none in the style I want. (I like my habits; I want a replacement, not a new model.)

My docent for the first half of the tour, Mr. Sweeny, was an adorable old man. I definitely enjoyed the second half more, though. It would be so easy to walk into the church and explore every corner without knowing about the treasures underneath. Pictures tomorrow.

After the tour, I swung by the Shrine in search of the elusive bracelet. They had plenty in the right color and almost the right size, but none with more than just one saint. So I caved and ordered one online. Nothing will ever replace the original (which I now have to bury, fun times), but it’ll be nice not to have a bare wrist anymore.

At the moment, I am between jobs. I don’t like to think of myself as unemployed, but I suppose I effectively am. Teaching didn’t work out, so I plan to try youth ministry next. I was accepted to a program in Seattle, but it was more service program than job, and I just can’t afford to make less money than I did in ACE.

In the meantime, I have been cleaning my room and catching up on my reading. I was shocked at how long it took me to clean my room: almost five days! The sad part is that, even though I got rid of a ton of stuff (language warning) and donated my old cell phones and clothes to charity, my room looks almost exactly the same. In the process, I dusted all my furniture. I couldn’t reach the top of my tallest bookshelf, so I stood on a questionable chair to pull down the stuffed animals and dust up there. After moving Tigger, I found the largest spiderweb I have ever seen. I got scared, lost my balance, and crashed into my shorter bookshelf, landing on top of a short pile of books. I knew it was a bad idea to stand on that chair. I did it anyway, so I deserved to fall, but it still hurt my hip … and my pride.

Last night I started gathering together all my potential new jobs into a Google Doc (my housemate Brogan would be so proud!), and tomorrow I plan to polish my résumé and send it off. In the meantime, I am reading up a storm. Who knows when I’ll have this much free time again in my life?

First was A Different Way to Give, in which BustedHalo directed me to give blood for the first time, so I did.

Second was To Settle or Stay Single?, in which I finish reading an old article from The Atlantic, seek a second opinion at Boundless, and make my final decision.

To see more entries from this week’s carnival, visit the host post at This That and the Other Thing.

I’m still young, but as I attend my college friends’ weddings and get used to calling women by their married names, I feel some of that itch to get married. I haven’t dated in a very long time, but I still feel that, as religious as I am, I will either be married within the next five years or stay single for the next fifteen. I haven’t had much opportunity to be picky, so I don’t know how picky I am.

Gottlieb seems to suggest that there are no justifiable dealbreakers once a woman starts to head closer to 40, but some of her suggested qualities to overlook (telling inappropriate jokes, emotional instability) still seem significant to me. I agree, though, that you don’t have to be passionately in love with a man who matches every quality you desire in order to marry him. In the long run, I can deal with a 5’6″ man who prays with me and loves me despite my perfectionism and my maddening imperfections. If he thinks Napoleon Dynamite was cinematic genius, that won’t make me overlook his willingness to endure through difficulties in all the relationships in his life, even if that includes his mother. (I believe the way a man treats his mother is the way he’ll treat his wife in ten years.)

It’s okay to settle on some things, even if you are still young, but there’s nothing wrong with a few dealbreakers, either.