Thanksgiving 2008

Things to be thankful for, things you can never replace:

A hug from my mom.
Going along on a house visit with my dad the amazing horse vet.
The smell of the desert after the rain.
The Squaw Peak mountains by moonlight.

Santiago de Mexico

My favorite blog topics are my friends and the people in my life that I admire. And one of my favorite ways to pass the weekend (since moving to Texas) is actually getting OUT of the State to spread a little lone star love to other areas of the world. Which leads us to this blog entry. I call it "Santiago de Mexico."

Earlier this month, I made a quick escapade to Guadalajara, Mexico to visit a harpist friend I know from France. We had both set up camp in the Cote d'Azur to study under the same teacher, and he was one of the first people I met when I arrived there over three years ago. His name is Santiago Morales. He's originally from Veracruz, and I had never seen him on this side of the Atlantic. We were past due for a visit.

Santiago is the kind of person that inspires you to be a better person... to enjoy life and to be your beautiful self. I would have been happy to visit him for 10 minutes, but I got to spend the entire weekend there- playing music, meeting his friends and students, drinking coffee, eating amazing food, and visiting the market. Our usual.

During our overlap in France, we spent a lot of memorable time together. We laughed till we cried, cried till we laughed, commiserated about the French, celebrated the French, explored, practiced, performed, and pushed each other to be better musicians. With Santiago, you can talk about anything from skin exfoliation to Jesus to relationships to fears to homemade salad dressing. He's the kind of person that lights up an entire hotel lobby upon entrance (namely, the Negresco). Maybe it's the giant smile. He laughs easily and tells stories like it's his favorite pass time. When I first heard him play, I wept- I just couldn't hold it in. But it was a good cry somehow. He has a very musical, rich sound. Hearing him play makes you want to go home to practice and be a better harpist. A better person, even.

And what I like about Santiago is that he's not perfect, and he knows it. He is his humble, loving, lovable self 24/7. So- cheers to Mexico. Cheers to harp playing. Cheers to being yourself. Cheers to Santiago.

The numbers are in.

2= the number of students I've made cry since the first day of school
35= the number of school-owned harps in this county (I think of it as me suddenly adopting 35 children)
.0004= number of harps per capita in Odessa
1362= the collective number of strings on the harps in Odessa
1099= number of harp strings tuned per school day
486= the number of harp strings I've changed since the first day of school
62= the number of days that it's taken me to change strings and make sure every harp is in tune and in playable condition
.05= number of chihuahuas per capita within the city limits of Odessa (estimate)
97= percentage of chihuahuas in Odessa that are stray
92= percentage of stray chihuahuas I see during the course of the school day
.008/1= harp-to-chihuahua ratio in Odessa

Now, if we plug those numbers into this equation:

5d+3a-2(3[25])-psum-i-(d+t)= profit

Our profit turns out to be:

.06

Tongue

Today in Odessa, you are either wearing Red & White or Black and White. Today is the day. Today is the annual Permian Basin Showdown. The two high schools in town will either take or loose all of the glory on the football field in a very important game. This is the day that is has been talked about and will be talked about for months to come. May the best team (Odessa High School!) win.

I received a very surprising phone call from a long lost friend yesterday. We hadn't spoken for about 6 years, and through the power of Facebook, we were reunited. Both his world and mine have done a 180 since the last time we spoke. Life is funny sometimes. Time is funny sometimes. After a couple of hours, I hung up the phone in a strange daze. It's amazing how one person and their words can make or break your spirit. Mine were made. Someone once said that "The tongue has the power of life and death." So true. And so what I want: to have my words bring life to people.

In a town where segregation was legal until 1981 (yes, n i n e t e e n e i g h t y o n e), where good live music is 150 miles away, and where you can't recycle your glass bottles, I'm looking for things to be thankful for. Let's play the "let's be glad" game! Here we go, Pollyanna...

I'm thankful
My Brother
My Sister
My Parents
My Niece and Nephew
Coffee in the morning
The beautiful weather in Odessa today
My students (who inspire me)
My harp and its music
My roommate
Enchiladas from Mi Milos
Long Lost Friends

Plates, Mexican, Music, and Poems

Today was a grim day. Today was the day I traded my beautiful Arizona license plate for one from the Lone Star State. Not that I have anything against Texas, but this act felt like the end of a very nice dream somehow. That plate and I had memorable travels together. Perhaps I'm a little apprehensive about giving up my unique identity as being "not from here." I don't necessarily want my car to say "I'm from Texas." I don't like the look of the new plate; those purple mountains and cacti are going to be missed.

So I'm wearing black.

The good news: Despite the rain and gloom, I drove into a ray of sunshine around lunchtime: Mi Milo's Mexican Restaurant on the corner of 2nd and North County Road. The quest to find the best Mexican food in town seemed a little daunting before, and now I see that it has ended entirely. This is the place. This is hands down the best Mexican food in town. Gracias, Mi Milo's!

School is going well. I love getting to know the students. And there seems to be bits and pieces of past Type A personality traits coming out of the woodwork of my mind. Handy.

And as far as my own playing goes... I'm excited for some new projects brewing! Recordings, new compositions, collaborations and concerts with friends... all very good things. Now all I need is 34 hours in a day.

Another piece of good news: I found an open mic and poetry reading that happens every Tuesday night at the Barnes and Noble in the town down the street. (I think it's probably the only open mic within 100 miles.) Last week I listened. This week I played. I really like the people there; it feels like the way church ought to feel. So. To end tonight, please enjoy this poem by a new friend and fellow open-mic-er, Kat....

"West Texas" by Kat (May 2008)

Cotton, tumbleweeds
Cattle and oil
West Texas homeland
Part of the Texas star

Longhorns, longnecks,
Rednecks
Loneliness in a crowd

Desertscape, subtleness
See forever and a day

Sand hills move,
Reshape
Yesterday's design
Sifted away

Moonlite, daylite
One and the same

Wander and saunter
Desert willow
Mimosa flower

Sky, clouds
See forever
And a day...

Things Mrs. Wolfe Didn't Tell Me- Part Two

This week I got to relive the first day of 6th grade, middle school, and high school... all in the same day, and this time in high heels.

If I had I dollar for every time I accidentally introduced myself as "Megan" instead of "Ms. Metheney," I would buy us all a round.

Speaking of which, I had no idea that school teachers partook in so much alcohol consumption during the first week of school. I must admit: a cold beer never tasted so good on Monday. I was exhausted! A very fulfilling, relieved, exhaustion.

I really love my new job. I get to travel to four different schools each day and teach harp to a selected bunch of really bright, kooky, hilarious kids aged 11-18. I love them already.

And just for the record: high heels on the first day... never again.

Things Mrs. Wolfe Didn't Tell Me- Part One

So it's official. The Permian Basin is totally flat. I even went to the tallest building in Odessa and walked the full circumference of its top floor. Not a hill in sight. This is strange for me. I've always lived in a place enveloped by mountains; I feel a little naked out here.

I'm slowly finding my bearings, though. I've spent the past couple of weeks accumulating keys, being powerpointed to death, meeting new colleagues, and changing harp strings. School starts tomorrow!! This is going to be fun. Tomorrow starts the reason I moved to Odessa... to meet up with 38 young people that want to play some music. THIS is why I'm here.

6 of them will have never touched a harp before. I get a little geeky about first lessons- it's an honor and a huge thrill for me. FUN. This is going to be fun.

I came across an old school paper earlier this summer as I was going through a room in my parent's house. It was from the 6th grade, and was apparently some assignment we did in writing down our goals for life. Here it was- a whole page of goals I had created for myself. My mom and I had a good laugh. I won't list them all, but there was one that stood out:

"I would like to be a school music teacher and teach harp."

Odd timing that I would find this paper now.

Above, in red ink (of course it's red ink), my teacher had written: "Super goals, Megan! I know you will be successful!" Her name was Mrs. Wolfe.

There's a lot of things Mrs. Wolfe didn't tell me, though... things that I'm finding out as this "goal" is starting to play out.

She didn't tell me what an amazing energy there is when you walk in to your teaching room for the first time, fumbling to find which key goes where, flip on the lights to an empty room (full of harps), set your bag down on the desk, and take a full breath.

I guess she couldn't have really explained it. I can't seem to, either.