3.02.2013

Motivational Speaker

I had this professor at WSU, he taught public speaking. He'd always be like "I'm a moooooooooooooootivational speaker! Get it? Chris Farley? Get it?"

This post is not about Professor Merkley and his twisted views but effective teaching style.... nor is it about Chris Farley.

It's not about speakers.

So 50% of this post is a lie already, THANKS A LOT LARA. I'll try to make it up to you.

It's about motivation.

It is no small secret that I'm a bum. My flute teacher told me one time that I play the flute beautifully. My tone is to die for. But when it comes down to it, I don't like playing what's on the paper. She said that I may think I can sail through life with beautiful tone, but eventually people will get me. She said that's how I'm probably like all the time. Pretty girl, pretty smile, give me what I want.

I was flattered.

The point is, I don't really like... oh how do I put this.... I don't like doing stuff. There.

I don't.

I wish someone would do it for me.

So of course I made a decision that was against everything I liked, meaning I made some decisions that made it so I had to do stuff now. Like.... go to work. For like 40 hours every two weeks. Or like, plan a wedding. Or go to school full time with a butt load of field work required. Or, I don't know.... plan for a future and budget and all that stuff.

And oh yeah, I told a lot of people I was applying to the department of education for the Fall 2013 semester.

But I'm lazy. Stuff came up, I get stressed over it all... I reasoned that I could drop some stuff and be fine with it. So I decided to drop the whole "applying to the department of education for the Fall 2013 semester." That thing I mentioned up there. I decided not to do it. No harm done, I don't need to get in until next fall anyways, so whatever, right?

However, more than I dislike doing stuff... I dislike disappointing people. So I may have told some people that I was working on it, I'd probably not get it in, but I was trying. When, in fact, I knew I wouldn't get it in, and I wasn't trying.

Joe found out.

Oh boy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, do not marry someone who pats you on the back and says "It's ok, just be happy, things will be alright, I love you no matter what you do!" Marry someone who gets on your case. I felt like a child on the phone with my dad while talking to Joe.

"You need to apply."
"I don't want to!"
"You'll regret it."
"I don't need to!"
"If you don't now, you never will."
"I promise! Next year!"
"That's what you said last year!"
"I don't want to!"
"Well Lara, it's your choice, but I'll be disappointed if you give up right now."

Two days before I had to have my application in... two days! I had only one letter of recommendation, I had my PRAXIS scores, and I had my fingerprint receipt. I still needed two more letters of recommendation, I had to fill out the application paper, I had to write a statement of purpose, and I needed my transcripts.

My dear wonderful Joseph got online, got me numbers for people I had to call. He even sent emails for me that I couldn't send because I was at work.

And with less than 48 hours, I finished my application and submitted it. With time to spare. I wouldn't have done it without him.

Earlier this week I got after him about job applications. I felt so bad about that. And he felt bad about getting after me to apply for school. But marriage isn't about petting each other's hand, wiping the tears, and saying "Oh it's ok! Whatever!" At least, to me... it's about dragging your spouse by the hairs of their neck if needed to get them on their feet and moving. Because becoming better people doesn't happen by doing nothing. And sometimes it doesn't happen on your own. I told Joe I was sorry for being whiny on the phone and uncooperative. He said it was ok, it just showed how much we need each other to become the best you can be.

I liked that. I'm so grateful to have a man who doesn't just cheer me on to become better, he gets in the game with me and pushes me over the goal line if needed.

Marry someone like that.

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