Rainbow Connection

Listen to this! Me and my friends recorded this song a year and a half ago. We made a few hundred dollars for my school doing so. To dreams! To love! To the pursuit and the victory, the mystery and and the solution. For the lovers, the dreamers, and .......me.

Banjo: Doug Mumford
Violin: Ivy Portwood
Guitar: David Francis
Vocals: Kristin Ferrell

How to Be Charming

How to Be Charming
By
Kristin Ferrell

You may find it strange
Or even alarming
But this is a poem about how to be charming.

In the days of your grandma,
Maybe even your aunt,
Kids were asked to be charming
But they said, “We can’t!!”

And the reason they couldn’t was simple, it’s true.
What they lacked was the poem
But that’s not true for you.

Being charming is more
Than merely having good taste
It’s more than your words
Being smart and well placed.

Charm is something we do
To be kind and sincere.
It’s about serving others
Without guile, without fear.

A charming soul
Is honest and true.
She says what she means
And she follows through.

When he feels like a cry
He’ll let the tears flow.

When you’ve stepped out of line
She’ll sure let you know.

Being charming means
Showing great self-control.
Never gobble three cupcakes,
Two croissants, and a roll.




Never hog all the limelight
For yourself with loud talking.
Stay away from idle gossip,
Foul jokes, and cruel mocking.

When a friend has a secret
To put in your ear
Make sure that you keep it
And let no one else hear.


Be the kind of true friend
That a buddy can trust.
For others to trust you,
Staying true is a must.

An expert in charm
Will try cool new things
From eating with chopsticks
To bouncy foot springs.

He’ll eat sushi for dinner;
At least, he’ll give it a try.
She’ll learn a new language
And speak it with pride!

Part of the charm game
Is remembering names.
Never call a guy William
If his real name is James.

People love to be remembered
And it’s kind if you will.
You’ll make tons of good friends
And their trust you’ll instill.

Charming people will look you
Straight in the eye.
They speak with a confidence
You really should try.

It feels great to be sure
Of yourself and your worth.
Charming people all know
They’ve been priceless since birth.

If you’re charming you will try
And be helpful and clean.
You’ll fold up your clothes
And keep your mess lean.

You’ll help your dad scrub off
Some pots, pans, and plates.
You’ll help your aunt Mona
Get the vines off her gates.

When a charming person finds
That she can’t quite agree
With another’s idea or philosophy
She will kindly decide to stand on her ground
And it’s all right with her if no agreement is found.

Charming people have talents,
Both great and small.
They can sing a cantata.
They can balance a ball.

They also remember
The great talents of others.
They love to clap loudly
For their sisters and brothers.


When somebody says
That you’re great at the tuba
Or skilled at the easel
Or fantastic at scuba…

Do you turn tail and run?
Turn twelve shades of red?
Do you say, “No I’m not!”
With three shakes of your head?

Being charming means
That you know that you’re splendid.
Take a compliment with a “Thank you!”
And smile like your friend did.

An expert in charm
Knows the value of doing.
She will read, write, and listen.
She has goals worth pursuing!

He’s got lawns to be mowed
And plans to be made!
He’s got homework to do
And marbles to trade!

Being charming can mean
That you keep right on dancing
When your muscles are aching
And your feet tired of prancing.

You keep playing piano,
Even when you feel weary
‘Cause you’ll WROCK at the concert!
And your mom’ll be teary.

You just keep right on truckin’
‘Cause you know in the end,
It’ll be worth the work
And the time that you’ll spend.

Being charming is NOT
For the faint-hearted or weak.
It is for the courageous.
To the victors I speak!

You can do this,
My heroes and heroines gallant!
Being charming will help you
In each race, ride, and talent.

You deserve a fun life
Full of friendship and meaning.
I really do hope
It’s this message you’re gleaning.

Charming people are made up
Of little white lights.
They’re made up of holidays,
Music, and kites.
They're made up of days
And made up of nights.




You can be charming!
Why, you’re half there already!
Stay happy and curious.
Be tactful and steady.

Let the world see your smile,
All gleaming and pleasant.
You’re a gift to the world!
The most precious, rare present.

You’ll meet plenty who’ll say
It’s not worth the endeavor
But you’ll know the truth,
And you’re much more clever.

Being charming is worth
every pinch in each bend.
Go out and try it!
I dare you!
THE END

Energy

I have a lot of nervous energy lately. I've got something bubbling in my blood and I'm not sure where it wants to go. For a while I was thinking it wanted me to go to grad school. That didn't work out this time. I didn't get into the program I applied to. I won't feel too defeated, considering two of my letters of rec came after the deadline and I applied late, as it was, with "special permission". Maybe next year. It occurred to me though, I am pretty lucky. I love my job! I love being with those kids every day! I love teaching them. I love the things they say. I love their faces and voices and drawings and all their wonderful ideas. No two days alike. It's lots of work, true. It's often grueling, insane, frustrating, impossible, and yet it is always and ever magical. There's something of elation in watching little kids learn something new, realizing what they can do, noticing they are getting better at things. It's beautiful! But how long can I realistically do it? And what am I to do next? Where am I to go? I looked into a few different options. Things didn't pan out or didn't feel right. Could it be that I just need to see my current life with new eyes? All I know is, when I got off the plane coming back from Salt Lake, my heart flooded with love for Austin, Texas. It was interesting. I keep wanting to start a revolution and maybe all I ought to do is live my life, as little as it seems, with grace and integrity. When I teach my kids every year about the term integrity I tell them integrity is doing the right thing no matter who is looking. Instead of conquering the world, maybe I'll just do my little life with integrity....no matter who's looking.

First Grade

First grade had a lot of firsts in it. Lost my first tooth. Wrote my first long essay. Got my first real scar. Fell in "love" for the first time. Scott Boaz was the most mystical experience I had ever had. He was new to our school. Sadly, he wasn't in my class. He was in Ms. Paul's class next door. I was in Mrs. Crumley's class. My teacher was the mother of my best friend, Leah. Leah was really smart and really goodie goodie and I always had the feeling that Mrs. Crumley sort of thought I was not a good influence. Even when I was in her class I always felt like she thought I was too grown up for my own good. She was always making comments about how pretty she thought I was, but her face didn't look happy about it. It was weird. That was the first time I remember feeling embarrassed about my looks. I wasn't trying to be pretty but I had the distinct feeling that Mrs. Crumley thought it was something of a crime in any case. Anyway, I think she wasn't the only one who thought I was pretty. Scott Boaz, big brown eyes, short, spiky, blond hair, tall (at least three point five feet tall), and he had his permanent teeth in front! Well, at least it looked like they were coming in nicely. I remember seeing him for the first time in Spanish class. Those of us who passed a certain test got to take Spanish every day for 45 minutes while other kids had Reading. It was wonderful! And he was in there! That meant he was smart, too! I knew it! I noticed he was a little shy at first but in no time, in a matter of days, we were talking, laughing, playing, and getting into plenty of trouble. We played this game a lot like tag except instead of tagging me Scott would pick me up and carry me around the playground until his little legs gave out. Ha! Poor little guy. I thought he was so cool and so smart. He spoke Spanish a little strangely but not everyone has a great accent right away. He came from some place like Iowa or something. First grade was full of drama and intrigue thanks to Scott. Years went on and we never became legitimate significant others but I'll always have a special place in my heart for my first love, Scott Boaz.

Biography

In second grade this week we are learning about biographies. The students study the lives of some of America's favorite authors, artists, presidents, musicians, sports stars, and civil rights leaders. They also interview a fellow student and write their bio. Inevitably, I get interviewed, too. I always seem to have an odd number of students.
These activities got me thinking. What would I want my real bio to look like? I mean, at the end of it all. When I'm 97, what is it I would liked to have done, seen, been. What sort of character did I fashion out of the raw material I was given by my progenitors? Let's just suppose I've lived a third of my life already. The truth is I may die tomorrow, but for the sake of this entry, let's suppose I die in my nineties. I'd say I'm off to a decent start. I spent my childhood getting into sufficient amounts of trouble, making exactly the wrong sorts of friends, and having a ball. (ha, ha!) But really, I did have a wonderful childhood.
Just yesterday I was telling a true story about kindergarten. For some inexplicable reason when I was five I got it into my head that I had a duty, nay, a mission I had to perform, for the good of humanity and to soothe the curiosity of my own, very voracious and painfully raucous young mind. The project: a dig. I had about ten to twelve little kindergartners under my task mastering hand and voice. I distributed the appropriate number of shovels and buckets. I outlined the plan in some detail: we would dig in a certain area for as long as it would take in order to find one of two things: China or Hell, and we wouldn't be stopping until one of them was located. Little Jason dared to inquire, "But how will we know when we get there?" My expression was probably beyond exasperation at this point. I can see myself smacking my own forehead. "You'll know, Jason, because you will either see Chinese people walking around or you will hear the trumpet of Satan blaring! Now, DIG!" Leaders are born, not groomed.
The kids were digging like little machines. I circulated, checking their work, providing encouragement and occasional reproof. We diligently pursued our goal each day at recess. I was so avid I actually had a hole going at home as well. My vigor knew no bounds. I had my two little brothers digging, too.
I forget how the project lost steam. Both sites gradually lost all attention. We gave in to less intense pursuits: hopscotch, gossip, swings, red rover, jump rope. And now the world will never know what we might have found. The sting of lost dreams is so hard to bare. Alas, I carried on, somehow.

My friends, chapter 7 : Heather

It is a very American thing to be constantly obsessed with your own betterment. Self-help and how much space it takes up at Barnes and Noble attests to this. It is rare, even in America, however, to find a person who really does take pains to improve in real life. This is Heather. She is a "Make It Happen" kind of girl. She dives readily and deeply. She lives like tomorrow might not come but she plans like there are enough tomorrows to fill up two lifetimes. I admire her so much.
I met Heather one summer Sunday in Austin about three years ago. We were at church. I introduced myself and before we knew it we were laughing a lot for reasons I can't quite remember. She was in Austin for an internship at Dell. She was an MBA student at BYU. We got to know each other pretty fast. We had dinner parties and went swimming and talked a lot about the perplexities of life. It was a fun summer. I'll never forget the project we worked on for a Dell competition among the interns. The task was to create a recruiting video for prospective interns. Heather enlisted my help right away. Doing little else than sitting by the pool reading, I was eager to assist in a creative project. So I began brainstorming. I felt like a mocumentary was ideal. I wrote some really funny stuff but the real magic happened right on film. It started with a monologue by me. I was pretending to do something important on my computer in my cubicle, all staged obviously as I don't work at Dell, and then I suddenly turn around and engage my audience with, "Oh! Hello! I am Kristin Ferrell. You may remember me from my acclaimed documentary Up Your Gas, a discussion on energy supplements." We went on from there interviewing people without any preparation, asking them silly questions like, "iphone. Your thoughts?" and, "Where do you see Dell in five years?" as I play with the very handsome intern's hair in a flirty manner and then ask him, "Do you like poetry?" He said no. So inappropriate. So great. Quick transition to me doing yoga in the courtyard, holding a pose, falling. We decided to interview a young, white male on the topic of diversity. I called him Rob, even though his name was Matt. I made him hold a little, blue flag that said "Dell! Diversity Champions!" SO funny. Anyway, great little film, I must say. I'll try and post it if I can manage it.
Since then, Heather and I have had many adventures. She is a great hostess and has thrown some really lovely parties and had many wonderful gatherings. I live in her home now and it is so peaceful and wonderful here. Beyond the beauty, the intelligence, and the adventurous spirit she is genuinely good. Her goodness makes me feel happy and safe. She is still making stuff happen: eating clean, which we're doing together (it's a lifestyle, not a diet), making improvements on her house, doing yoga, shaking things up at Dell, and all the while finding time to be a great friend, a patient listener, and just a fun person to hang out with. I am excited about Heather's future and I am just grateful to be here seeing it unfold. Heather, thank you for inspiring me. I love you.

My friends, chapter 6 : Bobby

When it comes to making my ribs ache from long, loud laughter, nobody does it like Bobby. Bobby is the best! He delivers the perfect combination of serious love and attention and silly nonsensical joy. It's quite a thing. How he balances the potent levels of serious concern and loyal friendship with the giddy, ridiculous, and hilarious bouts of sheer elation we share is quite beyond me. The genius of it is how seamlessly and how, at such quick intervals, this exchange happens in cycles numerous times in any given exchange between us.
I met Bobby in 1997. We were 19 and we shared a best friend, Aaron. Both boys were graduates of Cathedral High School, the all boys Catholic school downtown. Aaron was going to UT and convinced me to move out to Austin. Bobby helped me move. Aaron had already been living in Austin for a year and I was now joining in on the fun. Bobby stayed in El Paso but he came with us on the move and eventually ended up in Austin a few months later. He was in Austin about every other weekend, which was great fun for both me and Aaron.
Bobby and I became friends during a weird time in my life. I had just broken up with a semi-famous musician in El Paso who I had thought I might marry. A few comments sealed our fate though: "You would make the perfect politician's wife," and "I think all of humanity as one giant whole," were among the doomed utterances. It did not pan out in the long run. Then there was my conversion to Mormonism which steered me even further away.
And there was Bobby! Saving the day! All fun and laughter and sunshine! We played like children! One of our favorite activities was recording our thoughts on a hand-held mini-tape recorder. Some of our thoughts were very, very deep....or so we thought....but most of the time we recorded the silliest things you could dream of uttering. I would love to find that stuff! Priceless! Usually it went something like this: We'd be on our way to a party. We would log our predictions for the night, i.e., who would do or say what to whom, who would we encounter, what would they do or say, blah, blah, blah. Then, at the end of the night, which was very often the next day, we would log the realities of the night, whatever did in fact end up happening. Very often our predictions were dead on. Sometimes there were surprises though. For example, we never anticipated our dear friend Michael would spill copious amounts of some dark, mysterious liquid all over his very handsome shirt. We referred to him as "La Mancha", the stain, for the rest of the night. I think we called him that for a few months actually. All of these little surprises were fun to document.
Well, as time pressed on, life took us in two different directions. I eventually got married which swept me off the radar almost completely. Bobby moved to a few different places and was managing restaurants, doing music, singing in a band, etc. I had heard rumors, here and there, about how great the band was, and I was sorry I didn't know more and hadn't seen or heard it for myself. Then, one winter morning, I was enjoying some lovely breakfast tacos at Taco Deli when all of the sudden I see MY BOBBY!!!! It had been over eight years. He heard me virtually scream his name. He turned suddenly and said, "Kristin! When I heard that voice I knew exactly who it was!" It was so good to see him. He explained he was living in San Antonio but would soon be moving back to Austin. I explained I had recently moved back to Austin from Chicago. We quickly caught up in very general terms. We exchanged info and found ourselves on the phone a lot, catching up on many, many, things that life had dealt us. Some of it was amazing. Some of it was heart breaking. All of it was wonderfully expressed and received. There was something very healing about it.
Now, here we are, 2010. Bobby's band, Politics, is amazing. I now know for myself. We check in on each other regularly and I always feel loved after our conversations. He is wise and caring and just as fun as they come. I'll be at his show at the Parish on February 12. Will you? Then we'll go somewhere after the show and I've promised to bring my new recording device. I think I'll log my predictions for the night on the way downtown. Bobby and I will check them after the show.