Since I haven't seen fake boyfriend much in the last few weeks, I thought it would be nice to do something for him. I know he's been busy and hasn't been feeling all that great. My great idea was to bring lunch out to him. So I did. And I shouldn't have.
I walked in the room and he was watching a movie that his class had been watching the period before. He hadn't finished it, so he wanted to see the end of it. I thought there were just a few minutes left, so I went with it. The movie went on and on and on. He dug in to the lunch that I had brought and didn't so much as utter a syllable to me. I left it alone. The movie finally, FINALLY ended, and so I tried to ask him about his day, his game, blah blah blah. He kinda growled about how tired he was, and he resembled my 20 month old nephew. When adults get tired, it's generally not considered polite to take it out on others. I guess he doesn't know this.
A few minutes of strange silence ensued, and I really didn't know what else to say or do. I tried to be positive and to be supportive. He acted as though he didn't even care that I was there. He announced that he had to go open the gym, and that was my cue. Lunchtime was over.
As I drove home, I felt like a giant idiot. WHY IN THE HELL do I keep doing nice things for him? I don't know if it's because I think something will change or if it's because I feel like this is the best that it's ever going to get. I got angrier and angrier, and I then I remembered- He thinks that he's doing "nice" things for me by calling me. I doubt that I ever even register on a daily basis. And that just feels crappy.
I know all of this is my own stupid fault and that I'm venting. He doesn't care about me and never will. I have never in my life met anyone so socially and emotionally inept. And believe me, that's really saying something. He is a good person with some really great qualities, but there is clearly something missing. I can't fix that, nor will I attempt to. But I believe that I have been a great friend over the years and deserve better than a growl at lunch.
I was upset when he called last night. I probably said something to piss him off, so he has ignored me today. No calls, no texts. I don't deserve to be treated this way, but here I am...venting about it on my blog. I know it's all just stupid and that I should just let it all go.
If only it was that easy.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Take care of people
After being knocked on my ass for the past NINE days with uncontrollable pain and discomfort, I have come to realize something very important: We have to take care of each other. If you know there is someone out there who is sick or in pain, reach out. If you know someone who is lonely or having trouble, reach out. If you know of someone who is reluctant or shy, take a chance and reach out.
Here's the other thing- The people you think will come to your aid are not often the ones who actually do. I have used this experience to rid myself of the "users" in my life. It's not an easy thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.
I miss my life. I miss driving. I miss teaching, and walking, and going to the post office. I miss going for half price drinks at Sonic. I miss seeing people and going for my morning coffee.
I'm waiting for my new beginning here, but I'm not going to take those things for granted. And from now on, I'm going to make sure that I take care of people.
Here's the other thing- The people you think will come to your aid are not often the ones who actually do. I have used this experience to rid myself of the "users" in my life. It's not an easy thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.
I miss my life. I miss driving. I miss teaching, and walking, and going to the post office. I miss going for half price drinks at Sonic. I miss seeing people and going for my morning coffee.
I'm waiting for my new beginning here, but I'm not going to take those things for granted. And from now on, I'm going to make sure that I take care of people.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Living in a material world
Another birthday has come and gone. I certainly feel old, but that's not necessarily the calendar's fault. All of my family and several of my friends called with birthday wishes, and I was thrilled and a bit shocked at a few who actually remembered. What shocked me the most, though, was that my birthday was not acknowledged by someone rather close to me.
Now I'm not a present hound by any means. Sure, presents are fun, but I have always preferred giving the perfect gift over waiting for ones given to me. I spend a lot of time pondering gifts, and I am known for being a good gift giver. It's not that I spend a lot of money- I just like to find unique things that are meaningful and specific to the person for whom they are given. When I go on trips, I like to bring things back for special people just to let them know I was thinking of them when I was away. It's not the gift, I figure- It's the THOUGHT.
Needless to say, I spent a lot of time working on a birthday for my special someone when it was time for his birthday. I thought it had all of the elements of a great girlfriend gift- it was meaningful, it was unique, and it was from the heart. I'm not sure how it went over; He seemed to like it, but it's often hard to tell. I brought him mementos from my trips this summer just so he would know I was thinking of him.
So, what, you may ask, did he give me for my birthday? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No card. No note. Nada. Believe me when I say that I would have been THRILLED to have gotten a card with a nice note inside. I would have been thrilled with anything because he's never written anything to me, never given anything to me. It's bothering me more than it should, perhaps, but there are times when it is indeed the thought that counts. This is an instance when the thought definitely would have counted for all that and more.
I don't believe that it's materialistic of me to want to be remembered on my birthday. I know he doesn't put much stock in birthdays, but he knows that they are special to me.
My plan now is to get myself a present and pretend that it is from him. I may even wrap it. I don't think I can go so far as to write a card, though. So guys, write your gals a note every now and then. Buy her a token of your affection- It doesn' t have to be much, and if it does have to be much, then she isn't the kind of girl you want.
Now I'm not a present hound by any means. Sure, presents are fun, but I have always preferred giving the perfect gift over waiting for ones given to me. I spend a lot of time pondering gifts, and I am known for being a good gift giver. It's not that I spend a lot of money- I just like to find unique things that are meaningful and specific to the person for whom they are given. When I go on trips, I like to bring things back for special people just to let them know I was thinking of them when I was away. It's not the gift, I figure- It's the THOUGHT.
Needless to say, I spent a lot of time working on a birthday for my special someone when it was time for his birthday. I thought it had all of the elements of a great girlfriend gift- it was meaningful, it was unique, and it was from the heart. I'm not sure how it went over; He seemed to like it, but it's often hard to tell. I brought him mementos from my trips this summer just so he would know I was thinking of him.
So, what, you may ask, did he give me for my birthday? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No card. No note. Nada. Believe me when I say that I would have been THRILLED to have gotten a card with a nice note inside. I would have been thrilled with anything because he's never written anything to me, never given anything to me. It's bothering me more than it should, perhaps, but there are times when it is indeed the thought that counts. This is an instance when the thought definitely would have counted for all that and more.
I don't believe that it's materialistic of me to want to be remembered on my birthday. I know he doesn't put much stock in birthdays, but he knows that they are special to me.
My plan now is to get myself a present and pretend that it is from him. I may even wrap it. I don't think I can go so far as to write a card, though. So guys, write your gals a note every now and then. Buy her a token of your affection- It doesn' t have to be much, and if it does have to be much, then she isn't the kind of girl you want.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Sometimes It's Hard to Understand
There was a story in Friday's Ft. Worth Star-Telgram that really stuck with me. The story told of a 7 year-old girl named Trinity Bright who has an inoperable brain tumor. Since her family feared she wouldn't make it to the end of the month, they, along with the rest of her neighborhood, decided to have an early Halloween for Trinity. The entire neighborhood dressed up, went trick or treating, and had a big block party. Maybe it's because I have a 7 year-old, maybe it's because I've had a cancer scare myself, or maybe it's just the timing of it, but my heart just broke for this family.
Today's Star-Telegram reported that little Trinity Bright passed away yesterday, just two days after her early Halloween.
Sometimes I don't understand why children have to go through such horrible things, and I can't imagine being a parent and watching a disease ravage a young child's little body. I get angry sometimes at the pain that I live with, but I'm an adult. I don't understand it, and I like it even less- But, still, I'm an adult and know that sometimes things just happen. Children don't understand this.
My thoughts and prayers go out to this family this evening, and may their little girl rest in peace and be free from the pain that she has had to experience.
Today's Star-Telegram reported that little Trinity Bright passed away yesterday, just two days after her early Halloween.
Sometimes I don't understand why children have to go through such horrible things, and I can't imagine being a parent and watching a disease ravage a young child's little body. I get angry sometimes at the pain that I live with, but I'm an adult. I don't understand it, and I like it even less- But, still, I'm an adult and know that sometimes things just happen. Children don't understand this.
My thoughts and prayers go out to this family this evening, and may their little girl rest in peace and be free from the pain that she has had to experience.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Since the World Series is near...
Sighhhh... the RANGERS! UGH!
The Texas Rangers Provided Us With Yet Another Season in Hell
Tue Oct 02, 2007 at 11:23:29 AM
Another season, another last-place finish, another shrug, another yawn. In the wake of an obscure 75-87 disappointment that has already camouflaged itself alongside the other 22 losing seasons in franchise history, you’d like to hear something drastic or at least different from the Texas Rangers. Maybe, “Shit’s gonna change!” Or, “We’ve got to spend some serious money.” Better still, “That’s it, I’m selling the team.”
But instead of a Mike Gundy rant that would somehow feel therapeutic, the Rangers are again selling us, “Yeah, but we tried really hard and, generally, people still like us.” But are you buying? (For those who are, there's an 11:30 a.m. end-of-season press conference today; it'll be broadcast in its entirety on KTCK-AM.)
When the Rangers open the 2008 season they will look eerily similar to the outfit that just finished third or worse in a four-team division for the seventh straight season. The real changes -- the fresh faces acquired in the draft and via the trading of Make Teixeira, Kenny Lofton and Eric Gagne -- won’t arrive in Arlington until 2009. Barring the unlikely signing of free agent Curt Schilling, the pitching rotation will be Kevin Millwood, Vicente Padilla, Brandon McCarthy, Kason Gabbard and Edinson Volquez. Excited yet?
Remember, opening-day starter Robinson Tejada finished the season in the minors. Typical Rangers. Status quo Rangers. With Akinori Otsuka shelved the last two months with a mysterious forearm injury, there’s doubt about next year’s closer. C.J. Wilson was electric at times, converting 12 of 13 chances. But manager Ron Washington isn’t convinced.
“We’ve got some guys who we can groom to be a closer at some point,” Washington said last week. “But nobody that’s ready to step in and be the guy right now.”
Barring the unlikely signing of free agent Torii Hunter, who happens to live in The Colony, the lineup will be similar to the one that scored 16 runs in the home finale, then managed just seven during three season-ending losses in Seattle. Typical Rangers. Status quo Rangers.
Washington will be back. Same for general manager Jon Daniels. And hitting coach Rudy Jaramillo, expected to get a new contract. Of Texas’ free agents -- Sammy Sosa, Brad Wilkerson, Jamey Wright and Jerry Hairston -- only Hairston and Wilkerson are gone for sure. Apparently the only tweak in ’08 will come in Surprise, Arizona, where Washington promises to revamp his spring training regimen. He blames the team’s disastrous 23-42 start on pitchers reporting to camp out of shape and on hitters and fielders not being on the field in crunch time of exhibition games.
“Guys have got to get more at-bats,” Washington said. “And we’re going to keep them in games late to finish off those wins instead of letting the scrubs do it.”
Of course, that’s not going to play real well with veterans.
“He’s the manager,” said All-Star shortstop Michael Young. “But I know how many at-bats I need to get ready for the season.” Or does he? Young hit .214 in April, helping pave the way for a slow start that led to a mid-season change of plans, another rebuilding project and, ultimately, more dirt on the Rangers’ coffin.
Total games in franchise history: 5,705.
Total playoff game wins in franchise history: one. --
The Texas Rangers Provided Us With Yet Another Season in Hell
Tue Oct 02, 2007 at 11:23:29 AM
Another season, another last-place finish, another shrug, another yawn. In the wake of an obscure 75-87 disappointment that has already camouflaged itself alongside the other 22 losing seasons in franchise history, you’d like to hear something drastic or at least different from the Texas Rangers. Maybe, “Shit’s gonna change!” Or, “We’ve got to spend some serious money.” Better still, “That’s it, I’m selling the team.”
But instead of a Mike Gundy rant that would somehow feel therapeutic, the Rangers are again selling us, “Yeah, but we tried really hard and, generally, people still like us.” But are you buying? (For those who are, there's an 11:30 a.m. end-of-season press conference today; it'll be broadcast in its entirety on KTCK-AM.)
When the Rangers open the 2008 season they will look eerily similar to the outfit that just finished third or worse in a four-team division for the seventh straight season. The real changes -- the fresh faces acquired in the draft and via the trading of Make Teixeira, Kenny Lofton and Eric Gagne -- won’t arrive in Arlington until 2009. Barring the unlikely signing of free agent Curt Schilling, the pitching rotation will be Kevin Millwood, Vicente Padilla, Brandon McCarthy, Kason Gabbard and Edinson Volquez. Excited yet?
Remember, opening-day starter Robinson Tejada finished the season in the minors. Typical Rangers. Status quo Rangers. With Akinori Otsuka shelved the last two months with a mysterious forearm injury, there’s doubt about next year’s closer. C.J. Wilson was electric at times, converting 12 of 13 chances. But manager Ron Washington isn’t convinced.
“We’ve got some guys who we can groom to be a closer at some point,” Washington said last week. “But nobody that’s ready to step in and be the guy right now.”
Barring the unlikely signing of free agent Torii Hunter, who happens to live in The Colony, the lineup will be similar to the one that scored 16 runs in the home finale, then managed just seven during three season-ending losses in Seattle. Typical Rangers. Status quo Rangers.
Washington will be back. Same for general manager Jon Daniels. And hitting coach Rudy Jaramillo, expected to get a new contract. Of Texas’ free agents -- Sammy Sosa, Brad Wilkerson, Jamey Wright and Jerry Hairston -- only Hairston and Wilkerson are gone for sure. Apparently the only tweak in ’08 will come in Surprise, Arizona, where Washington promises to revamp his spring training regimen. He blames the team’s disastrous 23-42 start on pitchers reporting to camp out of shape and on hitters and fielders not being on the field in crunch time of exhibition games.
“Guys have got to get more at-bats,” Washington said. “And we’re going to keep them in games late to finish off those wins instead of letting the scrubs do it.”
Of course, that’s not going to play real well with veterans.
“He’s the manager,” said All-Star shortstop Michael Young. “But I know how many at-bats I need to get ready for the season.” Or does he? Young hit .214 in April, helping pave the way for a slow start that led to a mid-season change of plans, another rebuilding project and, ultimately, more dirt on the Rangers’ coffin.
Total games in franchise history: 5,705.
Total playoff game wins in franchise history: one. --
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thoughts on country music
I have always had a love/hate relationship with country music. Since radio reception in my office has narrowed my choices to country or country, I have been listening to more Carrie Underwood than usual. While the good 'ol bar standards can't be beat, the honky-tonkin' sound of old Hank is always good for a party, and alt-country has paved the way for a whole new kind of sound, most country is manipulative, and well, nauseating. Need examples? We need to look no further than the current Billboard Country chart.
Kenny Chesney- "Don't Blink"
While I find the general premise of the song to be endearing, the lyrics are simply past cheesy. Couple this with Kenny's "beat up" hat and "everyman" persona, and you've got a real piece of emotional manipulation going on here. For example:
"Don't blink. Just like that, you're six years old and you take a nap. And you wake up and you're 25 and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife..."
Methinks Kenny bought some stock in Kleenex before releasing this "tearjerker."
"Country Man" by Luke Bryan
There's so much material here that I don't even know where to begin.
"Hey I'm a country man- a city boy can't do the things I can. I can hotwire your tractor and plow up your land. Hey baby I'm a country man..."
But wait! There's more!
"Hey I'm a country man huntin' me a good ole' country girlfriend. Why don't you come and join me in my new deer stand?"
Wait a sec. I'm strangely turned on by this song. Anyway, this is nothing more than justification for "country men" everywhere to rally around their coolers and trucks, yell "Hell YEAH" and continue to think that women think the killer combo of deer corn and camo to be sexy.
Next up is the type of song that crusaders of country music live for- Chuck Wicks' "Stealing Cinderella." It's sappy, it's got dads and daughters, and it's got all of the makings of a song you'll be hearing at weddings for the next decade. Sigh.
"I came to see her daddy for sit down man to man. It wasn't any secret I'd be asking for her hand. I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself ...with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf..."
Now I'm going to admit something here- I did get a little misty eyed the first time I heard this song. However, when the next song came on the radio (I think it was "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.") I felt completely and utterly manipulated. I, too, had been duped by country music.
Please, Nashville. Spare us from this schlock.
Kenny Chesney- "Don't Blink"
While I find the general premise of the song to be endearing, the lyrics are simply past cheesy. Couple this with Kenny's "beat up" hat and "everyman" persona, and you've got a real piece of emotional manipulation going on here. For example:
"Don't blink. Just like that, you're six years old and you take a nap. And you wake up and you're 25 and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife..."
Methinks Kenny bought some stock in Kleenex before releasing this "tearjerker."
"Country Man" by Luke Bryan
There's so much material here that I don't even know where to begin.
"Hey I'm a country man- a city boy can't do the things I can. I can hotwire your tractor and plow up your land. Hey baby I'm a country man..."
But wait! There's more!
"Hey I'm a country man huntin' me a good ole' country girlfriend. Why don't you come and join me in my new deer stand?"
Wait a sec. I'm strangely turned on by this song. Anyway, this is nothing more than justification for "country men" everywhere to rally around their coolers and trucks, yell "Hell YEAH" and continue to think that women think the killer combo of deer corn and camo to be sexy.
Next up is the type of song that crusaders of country music live for- Chuck Wicks' "Stealing Cinderella." It's sappy, it's got dads and daughters, and it's got all of the makings of a song you'll be hearing at weddings for the next decade. Sigh.
"I came to see her daddy for sit down man to man. It wasn't any secret I'd be asking for her hand. I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself ...with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf..."
Now I'm going to admit something here- I did get a little misty eyed the first time I heard this song. However, when the next song came on the radio (I think it was "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.") I felt completely and utterly manipulated. I, too, had been duped by country music.
Please, Nashville. Spare us from this schlock.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
What it means to matter
This is something that I've been dealing with lately, both personally and professionally. I think we as human beings go through phases in our lives when we really feel the need to matter either to someone else or to something else. Obviously, I know I matter to my kids. I matter to my family. That isn't taken for granted at all. However, sometimes there is that tug at the soul...the need to matter to another person who isn't related to me and who might need me, too. It is a difficult thing to have people in my life who matter to me a great deal- but, for whatever reason, I don't seem to "matter back." But that doesn't stop me from caring for them.
I believe that feeling like I (or anyone, really) matter can be found in the little things- a text message, an act of kindness, a touch on the arm, a shared memory. Lately, these have come from quite unexpected sources.
An example: A friend who is near and dear to me and I were exchanging emails the other morning. You know the type- little one-liners just to pass the time and to share a few bits of information. One was ended with simply "love you," which absolutely meant the galaxy to me.
I will continue to deal with this in the way that I always do- I will keep caring for the people around me, keep loving those whom I love. While the saying "you get what you give" might not be completely accurate for me, I will continue to live that way. Maybe that will be the thing that matters when it's all said and done.
how many hours will it take?
when will i feel the ice break?
when will i come in from the cold?
somewhere past the last texaco
is a feeling we know
will we ever find love in the disconnection?
mama always said if you want to keep it
love is a fire and you need to feed it
if what she says is true
i'm going back to school
'cause i need to read the book on you
if you give it away, you get it back
if you give it away, you get it back... - Jill Cunniff "Disconnection"
I believe that feeling like I (or anyone, really) matter can be found in the little things- a text message, an act of kindness, a touch on the arm, a shared memory. Lately, these have come from quite unexpected sources.
An example: A friend who is near and dear to me and I were exchanging emails the other morning. You know the type- little one-liners just to pass the time and to share a few bits of information. One was ended with simply "love you," which absolutely meant the galaxy to me.
I will continue to deal with this in the way that I always do- I will keep caring for the people around me, keep loving those whom I love. While the saying "you get what you give" might not be completely accurate for me, I will continue to live that way. Maybe that will be the thing that matters when it's all said and done.
how many hours will it take?
when will i feel the ice break?
when will i come in from the cold?
somewhere past the last texaco
is a feeling we know
will we ever find love in the disconnection?
mama always said if you want to keep it
love is a fire and you need to feed it
if what she says is true
i'm going back to school
'cause i need to read the book on you
if you give it away, you get it back
if you give it away, you get it back... - Jill Cunniff "Disconnection"
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Back from the dead...
So it's now September. (Wow, have I neglected this blog.) The thoughts haven't stopped rolling, but over the summer they felt so self-indulgent that I felt dirty even posting them. The thoughts weren't "dirty" necessarily... (Well...) but it just felt a tad shameless even for this veteran blogger. (read: pitiful) I'll hit the highlights:
June. Louisville.
Graded over 1300 AP essays and had the time of my life. Met the greatest roommate ever, the moodiest bar patron ever, and went to my first drag show.
June. New Mexico.
Ho hum.
The rest of June was spent waiting by the phone. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. And lots of rain. And lots of time pumping water out of my basement.
June. Here.
Got a new job. Yay! Kiss my feet.
June. Arkansas.
Splendid drive. Celebrated my new job alone, which was mega lame. Can still see the sun glistening on the waters of Lake Eufala after a rainstorm, though.
July. Oklahoma.
Had an (almost) sublime weekend. Wish I could put this in a jar and pull it out on nights like this. Open spaces, road trips, and that feeling of freedom that comes when in a place where people are down to earth.
July. Teaching.
This turned into a much bigger ordeal than I had planned. Still waiting by the phone. Still dumb.
August. The Ball is Rolling.
So here it is in September, and the weeks just roll by. I have my "big job" now, but somehow I thought it would feel different. It really doesn't, but I enjoy it nonetheless.
The Divine Miss Z found some old cards last night. Of course, there were a couple in there from her father* (Father is used for lack of a more accurate description.) For some reason, seeing his handwriting reminded me of all of the times he used to "hide" me from people. I couldn't answer his phone. If I was in the car or in the room when he was on the phone, he acted as if I didn't even exist. He walked several steps ahead of me when we were out in public. Things like that. For some reason, it all came rushing back. I have felt shades of this in the past months, but this came over me in a wave.
It's tough to escape the past sometimes. That's why I'm moving forward. A new season and a new year in teacher speak.
Good thing I'm back from the dead.
June. Louisville.
Graded over 1300 AP essays and had the time of my life. Met the greatest roommate ever, the moodiest bar patron ever, and went to my first drag show.
June. New Mexico.
Ho hum.
The rest of June was spent waiting by the phone. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. And lots of rain. And lots of time pumping water out of my basement.
June. Here.
Got a new job. Yay! Kiss my feet.
June. Arkansas.
Splendid drive. Celebrated my new job alone, which was mega lame. Can still see the sun glistening on the waters of Lake Eufala after a rainstorm, though.
July. Oklahoma.
Had an (almost) sublime weekend. Wish I could put this in a jar and pull it out on nights like this. Open spaces, road trips, and that feeling of freedom that comes when in a place where people are down to earth.
July. Teaching.
This turned into a much bigger ordeal than I had planned. Still waiting by the phone. Still dumb.
August. The Ball is Rolling.
So here it is in September, and the weeks just roll by. I have my "big job" now, but somehow I thought it would feel different. It really doesn't, but I enjoy it nonetheless.
The Divine Miss Z found some old cards last night. Of course, there were a couple in there from her father* (Father is used for lack of a more accurate description.) For some reason, seeing his handwriting reminded me of all of the times he used to "hide" me from people. I couldn't answer his phone. If I was in the car or in the room when he was on the phone, he acted as if I didn't even exist. He walked several steps ahead of me when we were out in public. Things like that. For some reason, it all came rushing back. I have felt shades of this in the past months, but this came over me in a wave.
It's tough to escape the past sometimes. That's why I'm moving forward. A new season and a new year in teacher speak.
Good thing I'm back from the dead.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
may days, may ways
i can't believe it's freakin' may already. the weeks fill up quickly these days. germanfest has come and gone (sniff) and summer will soon be here. i'm always conflicted this time of year, though. going through the phases of high school senior life year after year wears on the emotions. i feel like some of them are my own, and this causes a mixture of fear and excitement with a little sadness thrown in. i can't help but contemplate my own life, my own choices. i watch with pride as my little fledglings begin to take flight.
my heart is so full of all of this beauty...all of this life. i wish that i had a way to share it. i wish that i had someone to share it with. i'm working on that, though.
life is so short, and i'm constantly amazed and frightened by that.
my heart is so full of all of this beauty...all of this life. i wish that i had a way to share it. i wish that i had someone to share it with. i'm working on that, though.
life is so short, and i'm constantly amazed and frightened by that.
Friday, April 6, 2007
stream of consciousness
Moments of melancholy hit me when I least expect them to, as pieces of your presence sneak up and find their way into my path. When I try to move forward, I see you staring at me like you had never seen a face before. Moments like those are difficult to forget, much less erase. But, oh, how lucky I am. How carefree and easy life must be for the unencumbered. Well, there is no such thing as unencumbered. Carefree is an illusion created by the miserable. Those who know joy most also know melancholy. Those who know joy and melancholy cannot be carefree. Those who know joy and melancholy cannot be miserable. Well, they can't be permanently miserable anyway. The human heart is so complex.
"oooh, darlin' don't you know. the darkness comes and the darkness goes...happiness ain't never how you think it should be so" -- Duncan Shiek
"the sadness flows like water/and washes down the heartache...my heart is full/my heart is wide/ the saddest song to play/on the strings of my heart..." Sinead O'Connor
"I can't do the walk/I can't do the talk/I can't be your friend/Unless I pretend/So give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it/Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it" -The Feeling
"oooh, darlin' don't you know. the darkness comes and the darkness goes...happiness ain't never how you think it should be so" -- Duncan Shiek
"the sadness flows like water/and washes down the heartache...my heart is full/my heart is wide/ the saddest song to play/on the strings of my heart..." Sinead O'Connor
"I can't do the walk/I can't do the talk/I can't be your friend/Unless I pretend/So give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it/Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it" -The Feeling
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The last word
All I can say tonight is this: When your end product is people, you're going to be let down. Maybe it's because I teach seniors. Maybe it's because I teach in the district that I do. Maybe it's that I know too damn much. Maybe it's just because it's the end of February and I'm getting tired.
Who knows. Whatever the case, I'm going to now curl up into a ball and watch "The Big Lebowski" until I fall asleep.
Who knows. Whatever the case, I'm going to now curl up into a ball and watch "The Big Lebowski" until I fall asleep.
Monday, February 26, 2007
If I could have just 5 minutes
Sometimes I -really-wish I could sit down with the man upstairs and ask him a thing or two. Today is one of those days.
One of my students lost his mother a few years ago in a car accident. She left three young children and a mess of a husband. The youngest daughter is failing multiple classes. The middle one struggles to keep things together. My student, the oldest, moved out of his home and is now living with friends. He is supposed to be receiving money every month, but his dad isn't letting any of it go. He is supposed to have college paid for, but it looks like that might be in jeopardy, too.
Why is this my concern?
I knew his mother. She and I went to the same high school. I thought she was so, so cool, too. She was one of those people who was genuinely kind to others. She was a lifeguard at the city pool for years, and I always found reasons to ask her questions or talk to her. I really admired her.
I know his grandmother. I see her walking in the cemetery every day as I head towards the track. She worries so much about those kids- She asks me about them all of the time. She rarely gets to see them, as their dad keeps them away from her. She would love nothing more than for the girls to live with her and go to school here. (They went to school here until their mother's death.) The courts won't let that happen, even though they are being neglected.
I wish I could do more, but I can't. I wish I could understand why these kids have to go through this- a life they certainly didn't deserve. They need a mother so badly, and I just don't understand why theirs had to be taken from them. None of it makes sense. I have to believe that there is a bigger design, a bigger reason. But right now, I'm at a loss.
If I could have just a few minutes of God's time, this would definitely be something I would ask Him about.
One of my students lost his mother a few years ago in a car accident. She left three young children and a mess of a husband. The youngest daughter is failing multiple classes. The middle one struggles to keep things together. My student, the oldest, moved out of his home and is now living with friends. He is supposed to be receiving money every month, but his dad isn't letting any of it go. He is supposed to have college paid for, but it looks like that might be in jeopardy, too.
Why is this my concern?
I knew his mother. She and I went to the same high school. I thought she was so, so cool, too. She was one of those people who was genuinely kind to others. She was a lifeguard at the city pool for years, and I always found reasons to ask her questions or talk to her. I really admired her.
I know his grandmother. I see her walking in the cemetery every day as I head towards the track. She worries so much about those kids- She asks me about them all of the time. She rarely gets to see them, as their dad keeps them away from her. She would love nothing more than for the girls to live with her and go to school here. (They went to school here until their mother's death.) The courts won't let that happen, even though they are being neglected.
I wish I could do more, but I can't. I wish I could understand why these kids have to go through this- a life they certainly didn't deserve. They need a mother so badly, and I just don't understand why theirs had to be taken from them. None of it makes sense. I have to believe that there is a bigger design, a bigger reason. But right now, I'm at a loss.
If I could have just a few minutes of God's time, this would definitely be something I would ask Him about.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
And the Oscar goes to...
Yes, tomorrow night is Oscar night once again. Though many scoff and the complete indulgence and ridiculousness of Hollywood, I still enjoy watching the Oscars. The opulence is astounding, and also, I'm a lover of cinema. I absolutely love watching moves. Let me rephrase that- I love watching GOOD movies. So here are my Oscar pics for tomorrow night.
Best Actor-
I'm going to go with Will Smith here. He's been the media darling since the nominations were announced, and he really did an amazing job in this film. The film was okay, but Smith's performance was amazing.
Best Supporting Actor-
I like Alan Arkin for this one. He's been around awhile, and he hasn't won an Oscar since the 60s, I think. His performance was hysterical and a win would be icing on the cake.
Best Actress-
It's got to be Helen Mirren. She has been getting mucho press since she won the Golden Globe for her performance of Queen Elizabeth. I can't wait to see this film.
Best Supporting Actress-
Jennifer Hudson. Call it a hunch, but this American Idol alum has had 'dream' year, so why should it stop now?
Best Picture-
I wish Little Miss Sunshine would win this, but I think Babel might have a chance here.
If you are like me (and let's hope you aren't for your sake!) you have practiced your Oscar acceptance speech. What category are you winning? I am winning the Best Original Screenplay award and my speech would go something like this-
'I would like to thank the members of the Academy for recognizing my work and for recognizing this film. This has truly been a labor of love, and I thank all who have supported me and my writing throughout the years. I would like to thank my parents, my siblings, my children, and would especially like to thank Jim Jarmusch for believing in this screenplay and for bringing it to the screen. Thank you all.'
Simple, eloquent, and to the point, don't you think?
Best Actor-
I'm going to go with Will Smith here. He's been the media darling since the nominations were announced, and he really did an amazing job in this film. The film was okay, but Smith's performance was amazing.
Best Supporting Actor-
I like Alan Arkin for this one. He's been around awhile, and he hasn't won an Oscar since the 60s, I think. His performance was hysterical and a win would be icing on the cake.
Best Actress-
It's got to be Helen Mirren. She has been getting mucho press since she won the Golden Globe for her performance of Queen Elizabeth. I can't wait to see this film.
Best Supporting Actress-
Jennifer Hudson. Call it a hunch, but this American Idol alum has had 'dream' year, so why should it stop now?
Best Picture-
I wish Little Miss Sunshine would win this, but I think Babel might have a chance here.
If you are like me (and let's hope you aren't for your sake!) you have practiced your Oscar acceptance speech. What category are you winning? I am winning the Best Original Screenplay award and my speech would go something like this-
'I would like to thank the members of the Academy for recognizing my work and for recognizing this film. This has truly been a labor of love, and I thank all who have supported me and my writing throughout the years. I would like to thank my parents, my siblings, my children, and would especially like to thank Jim Jarmusch for believing in this screenplay and for bringing it to the screen. Thank you all.'
Simple, eloquent, and to the point, don't you think?
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Memories in Green
So I spent the entire day at the double V at an academic meet. For those of you who have never had the opportunity to attend one of these little gems, let me explain. For coaches, it means you have to keep up with gads of entry forms, kids, and meet results. It's similar to a track meet in that there are different events happening concurrently and results trickle in throughout the day. One can kill five hours in what feels like a matter of minutes. However, when it hits about 3 or 4pm, and the momentum is wearing off and the kids have finished their events, it is easy to crash and burn.
Since the meet was held at my old stomping grounds, I had loads of time to reflect upon my two years there. I walked around and looked at all of my old haunts- my classroom, the workroom, and the coaches' office. I see my tenure at the double V with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. However, it was there that I felt I was making the most difference. I attribute this to teaching junior high kids, though, and not with the institution. I couldn't believe how many of the kids remembered me, and it was great to see how much some of them have grown up over the years. I felt like a proud parent of sorts.
Sometimes it's hard looking back, though- remembering mistakes, remembering difficult times, remembering stupid choices. However, while pulling out of my old parking space, I left feeling surprisingly at peace with things. I'm not the same person I was when I was there; I like to think that I'm a better one. Despite the academic meet exhaustion, I felt good to be in motion and felt even better that I'm no longer there.
Since the meet was held at my old stomping grounds, I had loads of time to reflect upon my two years there. I walked around and looked at all of my old haunts- my classroom, the workroom, and the coaches' office. I see my tenure at the double V with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. However, it was there that I felt I was making the most difference. I attribute this to teaching junior high kids, though, and not with the institution. I couldn't believe how many of the kids remembered me, and it was great to see how much some of them have grown up over the years. I felt like a proud parent of sorts.
Sometimes it's hard looking back, though- remembering mistakes, remembering difficult times, remembering stupid choices. However, while pulling out of my old parking space, I left feeling surprisingly at peace with things. I'm not the same person I was when I was there; I like to think that I'm a better one. Despite the academic meet exhaustion, I felt good to be in motion and felt even better that I'm no longer there.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Valentine's Day is Fo Suckas
Valentine's Day is Fo Suckas: A Compilation
1. A Style Called Crying Chic- Pop Levi
2. You Wouldn't Like Me- Tegan and Sara
3. There Is an End- The Greenhornes
4. Heart of Gold- Neil Young
5. I Am Over It- The Dandy Warhols
6. I Was a Lover- TV on the Radio
7. I'm Lonely, But I Ain't That Lonely Yet- White Stripes
8. Lost Souls Forever- Kasabian
9. Time is Honey (So Cut the Shit)- Brian Jonestown Massacre
10. Sour Girl- Stone Temple Pilots
11. Times Like These- Foo Fighters
12. Sad Sweetheart of the Rodeo- Harvey Danger
13. Blown a Wish- My Bloody Valentine
14. Hurt- Johnny Cash
1. A Style Called Crying Chic- Pop Levi
2. You Wouldn't Like Me- Tegan and Sara
3. There Is an End- The Greenhornes
4. Heart of Gold- Neil Young
5. I Am Over It- The Dandy Warhols
6. I Was a Lover- TV on the Radio
7. I'm Lonely, But I Ain't That Lonely Yet- White Stripes
8. Lost Souls Forever- Kasabian
9. Time is Honey (So Cut the Shit)- Brian Jonestown Massacre
10. Sour Girl- Stone Temple Pilots
11. Times Like These- Foo Fighters
12. Sad Sweetheart of the Rodeo- Harvey Danger
13. Blown a Wish- My Bloody Valentine
14. Hurt- Johnny Cash
Monday, February 12, 2007
All the Lonely People Pt. II
One of my friends- one of those near and dear people to me- told me that after 15 years.... It's splitsville. I am so saddened by this- I'm not totally surprised, but I guess the optimistic part of me hoped for the best. I really thought they could make it. They have been through so many hard times together and have made it through. I've always admired what they had- Seeing two people who both really had it rough growing up- and seeing them actually make it. They're both so wonderfully likeable. (My friend is, hands down, one of the funniest people that I know. He has the uncanny ability to make even the worst situation seem, well, funny.) And even through this trying time, he hasn't lost his sense of humor. I wish so badly that I could sit down with her and tell her that the grass isn't greener and that life after divorce is not something to be taken lightly.
When at mass this weekend, the priest gave a special marriage blessing and asked all of the married people to stand. Such moments are mortifying. I looked around me... There was me. There was the guy whose 30 something year marriage ended a couple of years ago sitting with his daughter. There was the guy I knew in high school who just split with his high school sweetheart sitting with his kids. There was my friend's sister who just moved back from Chicago following a very, very nasty divorce. And then there was the rest of the congregation...standing...being blessed. I felt low there for a couple of minutes, but then I looked at my fellow divorcees and felt grateful that we're all still there. We haven't completely given up the faith, obviously.
I went to the track today and saw yet another recently divorced acquaintance from high school. I watched him run, knowing the rumors I've heard...knowing the pain he's in.
As I walked, I thought of all of these things. I thought of all of these families and of all of this pain. It doesn't seem to make sense how there can be so many lonely people in the world, so many selfish people in the world. We are all so imperfect and so very fragile.
When my friend told me about his day yesterday, I just wanted to cry...because I've been there. I know what that kind of lonliness is like, what that kind of emptiness is like. He doesn't deserve that. No one does.
I really can't make sense of any of it.
When at mass this weekend, the priest gave a special marriage blessing and asked all of the married people to stand. Such moments are mortifying. I looked around me... There was me. There was the guy whose 30 something year marriage ended a couple of years ago sitting with his daughter. There was the guy I knew in high school who just split with his high school sweetheart sitting with his kids. There was my friend's sister who just moved back from Chicago following a very, very nasty divorce. And then there was the rest of the congregation...standing...being blessed. I felt low there for a couple of minutes, but then I looked at my fellow divorcees and felt grateful that we're all still there. We haven't completely given up the faith, obviously.
I went to the track today and saw yet another recently divorced acquaintance from high school. I watched him run, knowing the rumors I've heard...knowing the pain he's in.
As I walked, I thought of all of these things. I thought of all of these families and of all of this pain. It doesn't seem to make sense how there can be so many lonely people in the world, so many selfish people in the world. We are all so imperfect and so very fragile.
When my friend told me about his day yesterday, I just wanted to cry...because I've been there. I know what that kind of lonliness is like, what that kind of emptiness is like. He doesn't deserve that. No one does.
I really can't make sense of any of it.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Looking forward, looking back
Since I must be a glutton for punishment, I looked up the press release detailing my ex's new job in Washington. How I even found out where he landed was a complete fluke, so I thought I would at least see how he's manuvered his resume as of late. He's gooood. Very good.
I have had a few sleepless nights of late, and my thoughts harkened back to those days in California. I have the unique ability, as I think most of us do, to mute the bad things in our lives. They are not forgotten, but they are rather softened over time. Call it one of humanity's basic survival mechanisms. The wrongs done do me during those years have NOT been forgotten, but I began to think about the small glimmers of humanity that I saw in him- He who has the humanity and heart of a piece of coal.
I remember his commencement speech at CSU- (the one I helped write!)- and how moved the crowd seemed to be. People came up to me for weeks afterward to tell me how much they LOVED that speech and how they had never heard one so moving, so captivating. Yes, he's good.
I remember the insanely fancy dinner we were invited to at Rancho Bernardo Inn- a place that I DREAM of going back to someday- and how he had the entire table of CEOs and VIPs laughing and enjoying themselves. This was a group of people that ordinarily would have never been in the same room, but yet he had everyone connected in such a way that it seemed we had all known each other for years. Yes, he's that good.
I remember the party that we hosted for Dale Chihuly- who is really a cool guy- weird, but cool- and how all of these odd ducks and rich benefactors were there. I remember the roses and the muted blue lighting and how absolutely beautiful everything looked. I remember Chihuly's sculptures and how I remembered the name of one that particularly pleased me. I reminded the ex of this and then he gushed about it to Chihuly in terms that the most savvy art major can't handle. Chihuly stayed all evening. Yes, he's that good.
He keeps getting big job after big job. He's praised and lauded by many. He's smart, though, in that he always moves on just when people are beginning to catch on to his act. He's not a total sham- He CAN deliver. It's just that his personal life always seems to get in his way. He's scary smart and probably has the highest IQ of any person I know. However, he has no soul. Some people figure that out and some people never do. Looking back, I figured it out pretty darn quickly. I was just naive enough to think that maybe I could bring it out of him somehow. If I met him for the first time today, I'd see right through his bullshit. I know that for a fact because now? Now I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing. This is why I'll never be a rich woman.
But you know what? That's ok. Souls can't be bought. I give his gig in Washington 3 years.
I have had a few sleepless nights of late, and my thoughts harkened back to those days in California. I have the unique ability, as I think most of us do, to mute the bad things in our lives. They are not forgotten, but they are rather softened over time. Call it one of humanity's basic survival mechanisms. The wrongs done do me during those years have NOT been forgotten, but I began to think about the small glimmers of humanity that I saw in him- He who has the humanity and heart of a piece of coal.
I remember his commencement speech at CSU- (the one I helped write!)- and how moved the crowd seemed to be. People came up to me for weeks afterward to tell me how much they LOVED that speech and how they had never heard one so moving, so captivating. Yes, he's good.
I remember the insanely fancy dinner we were invited to at Rancho Bernardo Inn- a place that I DREAM of going back to someday- and how he had the entire table of CEOs and VIPs laughing and enjoying themselves. This was a group of people that ordinarily would have never been in the same room, but yet he had everyone connected in such a way that it seemed we had all known each other for years. Yes, he's that good.
I remember the party that we hosted for Dale Chihuly- who is really a cool guy- weird, but cool- and how all of these odd ducks and rich benefactors were there. I remember the roses and the muted blue lighting and how absolutely beautiful everything looked. I remember Chihuly's sculptures and how I remembered the name of one that particularly pleased me. I reminded the ex of this and then he gushed about it to Chihuly in terms that the most savvy art major can't handle. Chihuly stayed all evening. Yes, he's that good.
He keeps getting big job after big job. He's praised and lauded by many. He's smart, though, in that he always moves on just when people are beginning to catch on to his act. He's not a total sham- He CAN deliver. It's just that his personal life always seems to get in his way. He's scary smart and probably has the highest IQ of any person I know. However, he has no soul. Some people figure that out and some people never do. Looking back, I figured it out pretty darn quickly. I was just naive enough to think that maybe I could bring it out of him somehow. If I met him for the first time today, I'd see right through his bullshit. I know that for a fact because now? Now I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing. This is why I'll never be a rich woman.
But you know what? That's ok. Souls can't be bought. I give his gig in Washington 3 years.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
All the lonely people
There are days when I can take pain. There are days when I can't. Today was one of those days.
For some reason, my back decided to be an asshole last night. I wasn't table dancing, nor was I trying to complete an advanced yoga class- I was simply trying to get into bed after a long day's work. Something happened. I felt that unmistakable cramp- you know, that feeling you get right before your leg starts to cramp up- I felt it building at the base of my spine. It began crawling northward toward my troubled vertebrae, and so I stayed perfectly still hoping that it would pass.
No such luck.
I knew I had to get to my medicine. I didn't have a phone near me, and my kids were asleep. So, I began my attempt to get up and mobile. Using my alarm clock as my guide, it took me 9 minutes to get from my nightstand to the foot of my bed. I was breaking out in a sweat by this point, but I had to keep going. I braced my lower back and guided myself against the wall of my bedroom and then the hallway. By this time, I was gritting my teeth and wondering why God hates me so much. I made it to the kitchen a few minutes later, found my medication (last one!), and located the phone. I don't remember getting back to bed. I remember being in bed and shivering and trying to stay still. The medicine (how I love thee) started kicking in about this time, and I could feel the knot at the base of my spine start to loosen. Then I fell asleep.
I woke up feeling like a truck had hit me. I called my principal at the appropriate time, and so there I was....
When you stay woozy with painkillers, a lot of things take focus in the out of focus. Pain is a lonely thing. No one really understands it (unless they've been there too) and no one really wants to (who could blame them). I can manage quite nicely when I'm mobile, but when I'm knocked on my ass the way I have been several times in these last two weeks, I feel like the loneliest person on the planet. It's like no one wants to "catch" whatever it is that you have. When I hear about people's "brave fight" against diseases, there's a part of me that knows that brave face one must put on- Showing one how you really feel might scare off everyone entirely. So, of course you have stay brave on the outside. In the inside, it's lonely and scary and frustrating.
I suppose I'm angry today. I'm angry that after all of this...I still hurt. After all of the tests, surgery, therapy, injections, medications, etc. etc... It still doesn't work. Tonight, though, I'll settle for a spasm-free slumber. The rest can wait.
For some reason, my back decided to be an asshole last night. I wasn't table dancing, nor was I trying to complete an advanced yoga class- I was simply trying to get into bed after a long day's work. Something happened. I felt that unmistakable cramp- you know, that feeling you get right before your leg starts to cramp up- I felt it building at the base of my spine. It began crawling northward toward my troubled vertebrae, and so I stayed perfectly still hoping that it would pass.
No such luck.
I knew I had to get to my medicine. I didn't have a phone near me, and my kids were asleep. So, I began my attempt to get up and mobile. Using my alarm clock as my guide, it took me 9 minutes to get from my nightstand to the foot of my bed. I was breaking out in a sweat by this point, but I had to keep going. I braced my lower back and guided myself against the wall of my bedroom and then the hallway. By this time, I was gritting my teeth and wondering why God hates me so much. I made it to the kitchen a few minutes later, found my medication (last one!), and located the phone. I don't remember getting back to bed. I remember being in bed and shivering and trying to stay still. The medicine (how I love thee) started kicking in about this time, and I could feel the knot at the base of my spine start to loosen. Then I fell asleep.
I woke up feeling like a truck had hit me. I called my principal at the appropriate time, and so there I was....
When you stay woozy with painkillers, a lot of things take focus in the out of focus. Pain is a lonely thing. No one really understands it (unless they've been there too) and no one really wants to (who could blame them). I can manage quite nicely when I'm mobile, but when I'm knocked on my ass the way I have been several times in these last two weeks, I feel like the loneliest person on the planet. It's like no one wants to "catch" whatever it is that you have. When I hear about people's "brave fight" against diseases, there's a part of me that knows that brave face one must put on- Showing one how you really feel might scare off everyone entirely. So, of course you have stay brave on the outside. In the inside, it's lonely and scary and frustrating.
I suppose I'm angry today. I'm angry that after all of this...I still hurt. After all of the tests, surgery, therapy, injections, medications, etc. etc... It still doesn't work. Tonight, though, I'll settle for a spasm-free slumber. The rest can wait.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Miracles
This weekend I had the opportunity to view the BodyWorld exhibit. The exhibit features real bodies and parts of bodies that have been plasticized using some sort of preservation method. I wasn't sure if I would be up to this kind of thing, but I was amazed by the things that I saw. First of all, this is unlike anything I have ever seen in a textbook or regular museum model. I saw bascially every body part- real ones- laid out in front of me with descriptions of how they work and what they do. There were examples of artifical knees and hips, the lungs of a smoker, the liver of an alcoholic, and hardened arteries. There was a woman with an 8 month old fetus...I was amazed. I was amazed at how small the kidneys really are and at how large the aorta really is. I saw the vertebrae- the ones like mine that have died- and realize how something so very, very small can impact the quality of life.
What I was left with is the sense of amazement and wonder that anyone ever lives to the age of 50. Why? I see now just how many things can go wrong and just how many systems have to work together in order for the body to function. There are so many tiny parts of us that have to work correctly in order for us to work at all.
The exhibit is something that everyone should see.
http://www.bodyworlds.com
What I was left with is the sense of amazement and wonder that anyone ever lives to the age of 50. Why? I see now just how many things can go wrong and just how many systems have to work together in order for the body to function. There are so many tiny parts of us that have to work correctly in order for us to work at all.
The exhibit is something that everyone should see.
http://www.bodyworlds.com
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
In defense of reading
If the subject of reading for pleasure comes up in day to day conversation, most people will reply with a haughty "I just don't have TIME to read." Then, I get a look of disdain, as though all I do is sit around, eat ice cream out of the carton, and read trashy romance novels. Reading for pleasure shouldn't be something that one has to defend; It should be a natural part of daily existence. Instead of watching "Grey's Anatomy"- I read. Instead of talking on the phone for hours on end, I read. Instead of playing video games, I read. Instead of doing laundry, I read.
So maybe that last example isn't so positive, but hey, the laundry manages to get finished. Reading to me is like breathing. It is as natural to me as drinking water when I'm thirsty. It calms me when I'm stressed, and it soothes the mind before I go to sleep. It gives me something to look forward to at the end of a hectic day.
So for all of you non-readers out there, give it a shot, I say. Find something you're interested in, and then read more about it. This might sound a little bit preachy English teacher, I realize, but you just might surprise yourself. Give yourself the gift, and don't be afraid to defend it.
So maybe that last example isn't so positive, but hey, the laundry manages to get finished. Reading to me is like breathing. It is as natural to me as drinking water when I'm thirsty. It calms me when I'm stressed, and it soothes the mind before I go to sleep. It gives me something to look forward to at the end of a hectic day.
So for all of you non-readers out there, give it a shot, I say. Find something you're interested in, and then read more about it. This might sound a little bit preachy English teacher, I realize, but you just might surprise yourself. Give yourself the gift, and don't be afraid to defend it.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Things that mean the most to me
1. My baby quilt (the softest thing I own)
2. A ring from my grandmother
3. An antique pitcher from my other grandmother
4. A ring with turquoise, opal, and lapis inlay
5. A jade necklace
6. A set of red books
7. A copy of Never Tease A Weasel (my fave children's book)
8. A bookshelf made by my grandfather
9. My diplomas
10. A photograph of my grandfather with his Santa Gertrudis cattle
2. A ring from my grandmother
3. An antique pitcher from my other grandmother
4. A ring with turquoise, opal, and lapis inlay
5. A jade necklace
6. A set of red books
7. A copy of Never Tease A Weasel (my fave children's book)
8. A bookshelf made by my grandfather
9. My diplomas
10. A photograph of my grandfather with his Santa Gertrudis cattle
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Reality
My mom's cousin called this week to tell my mom that her son, Gary, a Marine, was killed in Iraq.
While I should not have been shocked at the news, I really was. You see, my mom's hometown has a history of men going to war...and men coming home again. Gary is the first soldier killed in the line of duty from my mom's hometown. WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, first Persian Gulf...They ALL came home, which is a miraculous thing. In fact, my grandfather helped construct a grotto in front of the church in honor of all soldiers who served and in thanks for their safe return. It worked until now.
What makes the story even more tragic is that Gary was named after an uncle (also Gary) who was killed in Vietnam. (The uncle wasn't from Windthorst, obviously.) Who could have known? Who would have wanted to? He played on the football team that won a state championship. He worked hard. He came from a good family. You know the story.
Anyway, my mom will attend the funeral, which will be attended by an estimated 800 people. She is being put on standby to sing- in case Gary's godmother can't go through with it. I am so saddened by the news, but I am grateful to be a part of such a place. Growing up, Windthorst was my second home- Even though my mom got married and moved away, I was treated (and still am treated) like one of their own. I hope Gary's entire family feels that way, too.
May he rest in peace.
While I should not have been shocked at the news, I really was. You see, my mom's hometown has a history of men going to war...and men coming home again. Gary is the first soldier killed in the line of duty from my mom's hometown. WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, first Persian Gulf...They ALL came home, which is a miraculous thing. In fact, my grandfather helped construct a grotto in front of the church in honor of all soldiers who served and in thanks for their safe return. It worked until now.
What makes the story even more tragic is that Gary was named after an uncle (also Gary) who was killed in Vietnam. (The uncle wasn't from Windthorst, obviously.) Who could have known? Who would have wanted to? He played on the football team that won a state championship. He worked hard. He came from a good family. You know the story.
Anyway, my mom will attend the funeral, which will be attended by an estimated 800 people. She is being put on standby to sing- in case Gary's godmother can't go through with it. I am so saddened by the news, but I am grateful to be a part of such a place. Growing up, Windthorst was my second home- Even though my mom got married and moved away, I was treated (and still am treated) like one of their own. I hope Gary's entire family feels that way, too.
May he rest in peace.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
I wear the scarlet A
So one of the movies I watched this weekend was "Mona Lisa Smile"- a movie about a "free thinking" art history professor at Wellesley College in 1953. The plot was pretty weak, but I appreciate what the film was trying to bring to light. Many of the depictions were probably pretty accurate. Here were the most intelligent women of their day, and the college served as no more than a finishing school. Every tradition, every course was designed to train women to be the perfect (stepford) wives.
I thought about this after the film ended. As some of you know, I once subscribed to a Catholic dating site. While a member of the site, I was horrified to find that many of the women seeking men on the site were still locked into this 1953 way of thinking- that their worth must come from being a wife and mother. This mode of thinking was on the way out even back then. I'm not condemning the desire to be a wife and mother by any means- It's a noble goal and one of the hardest jobs out there. However, I think if it hasn't happened for you by the time you are in your mid-30s...or if you've been divorced almost seven years.... Then it might be time to buck up and make your own way. Women who look for validity through men are often disappointed.
Needless to say, I was a pariah on that site, but I'm not ashamed of that. Mostly I feel sorry for the women on there who are still clinging to an ideal that no longer exists. I feel sorry for the men they're chasing- They will never fulfill the June Cleaver fantasies. They will still have to do their own thinking, live their own lives, and make their own way...with or without a husband. Many of them will have to learn the hard way- like one of the movie's characters- that having a husband doesn't equal happiness. I'm sure that it could equal happiness, but there's no guarantee, you know.
I wish I could have gone to Wellesley....
I thought about this after the film ended. As some of you know, I once subscribed to a Catholic dating site. While a member of the site, I was horrified to find that many of the women seeking men on the site were still locked into this 1953 way of thinking- that their worth must come from being a wife and mother. This mode of thinking was on the way out even back then. I'm not condemning the desire to be a wife and mother by any means- It's a noble goal and one of the hardest jobs out there. However, I think if it hasn't happened for you by the time you are in your mid-30s...or if you've been divorced almost seven years.... Then it might be time to buck up and make your own way. Women who look for validity through men are often disappointed.
Needless to say, I was a pariah on that site, but I'm not ashamed of that. Mostly I feel sorry for the women on there who are still clinging to an ideal that no longer exists. I feel sorry for the men they're chasing- They will never fulfill the June Cleaver fantasies. They will still have to do their own thinking, live their own lives, and make their own way...with or without a husband. Many of them will have to learn the hard way- like one of the movie's characters- that having a husband doesn't equal happiness. I'm sure that it could equal happiness, but there's no guarantee, you know.
I wish I could have gone to Wellesley....
When the drugs work
So I'm back among the mobile and quasi-able bodied! If I had been in a better frame of mind, I would have kept a notebook next to my bed. Why? Because muscle relaxer + painkiller = trippy dreams. I stayed knocked out for about 16 hours, and during that time, the muscles in my back calmed down. I made myself go walking this morning (before the cold front hit) and I made it for almost two miles. So far so good. The pain isn't completely gone, but hey...I can move again. Now I'm just in that super-hesitant frame of mind where every move is suspect. I know that in an instant, my ass could be on the floor and I could once again be relegated to the world of the wailing wounded. Who needs that?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
My familiar friend
I now know the reason behind my back pain and the reason why it's been going on for so, so long. Right? Right. While this is comforting, it still doesn't change the fact that the pain just won't go away.
I notice people doing simple things- bending over to tie shoes, lifting boxes off of the floor, running on the track.... And I wish so badly that I could do such simple, everyday tasks. These things may seem ordinary to most, but to me they're fantasies of sorts. Heck, I wish I could roll over in bed without wincing in pain. I also think about the days before my back problems began and how I took it all for granted. There are so many things I should have done! This is human nature, I realize. Don't know what you got until it's gone and yada yada yada.
Thankfully, there is a bright side to all of this. When I'm in physical pain, I'm able to focus on solely that. Other fears, pains, insecurities are set aside, and there is some relief. When in physical pain...any other kind of pain seems utterly trivial. So I have to get sort of "zen" about it and accept what is. I have to embrace the pain- my best friend and worst enemy.
Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle. --Jane Kenyon
I notice people doing simple things- bending over to tie shoes, lifting boxes off of the floor, running on the track.... And I wish so badly that I could do such simple, everyday tasks. These things may seem ordinary to most, but to me they're fantasies of sorts. Heck, I wish I could roll over in bed without wincing in pain. I also think about the days before my back problems began and how I took it all for granted. There are so many things I should have done! This is human nature, I realize. Don't know what you got until it's gone and yada yada yada.
Thankfully, there is a bright side to all of this. When I'm in physical pain, I'm able to focus on solely that. Other fears, pains, insecurities are set aside, and there is some relief. When in physical pain...any other kind of pain seems utterly trivial. So I have to get sort of "zen" about it and accept what is. I have to embrace the pain- my best friend and worst enemy.
Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle. --Jane Kenyon
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Secret Women
"Just because a man you may be dating is a cardiac surgeon is no guarantee that he won't be a sociopath." --Joyce Maynard
Truer words have n'er been spoken. As I was waiting for my son at his afternoon eye appointment, I was thrilled to see the new issue of Vogue sitting in the stack of reception area magazines. Normally, I like to thumb through the glossy mag to admire the extreme fashions and well, the purses. I was surprised to find articles about two of my favorite literary "secret" women.
The first was an article by Joyce Maynard, famed young lover of the reclusive writer J.D. Salinger. She has enjoyed a certain amount of literary fame because of her association with him, but more recently she is known as a columnist and writer. Her narrative is about her correspondence with a man in prison and how he duped her into believing that he was an understanding and marvelous fellow. She now realizes her error in judgment, but she also recounts how seemingly "normal" men had also duped her- Seemingly normal men (not in prison) who were just as crazy. I find it amazing that an educated woman with a newspaper column could fall for such a line, but then again...Maybe it isn't all that far-fetched, as explained in the quote above. I have dated a CEO, a doctor, a high-level Dallas corporate recruiter, a newspaper publisher, an environmental engineer.... ALL CRAZY. Good jobs and good incomes do not a sane man make. Amen, sister.
Moving on to secret woman #2. I also read an article about a book that has been written about Ted Hughes' mistress, Assia Wevill. While I knew he had a mistress when his late wife (Sylvia Plath) committed suicide, I did not know that Assia met with the same fate. Ted and Assia had a child together, and of course, Ted left them. She fell into a horrible state and killed both her daughter and herself shortly after this. I did not know this until recently. What a horrible fall it must have been to go from other woman to new woman to new mother to yesterday's news. The Ted-Assia-Sylvia love triangle has long fascinated me- I guess because Ted's and Sylvia's poetry is so incredible. (Sylvia's is much better, though.) Such human tragedy... and tragedy that goes on each and every day to people far less famous.
Now before any of you accuse me of being a man-hater, let me say this: These women made their choices. However, when dealing with matters of the human heart, such men are total cads. I know these cads. I lived with one, for crying out loud. They will suck you up and leave you dry and feel completely justified in their misguided ethos to do so. The difference is that these women had to deal with these men in very public ways and weren't able to get over it.
Write on, Joyce. Rest in peace, Sylvia and Assia. The secret is out.
Truer words have n'er been spoken. As I was waiting for my son at his afternoon eye appointment, I was thrilled to see the new issue of Vogue sitting in the stack of reception area magazines. Normally, I like to thumb through the glossy mag to admire the extreme fashions and well, the purses. I was surprised to find articles about two of my favorite literary "secret" women.
The first was an article by Joyce Maynard, famed young lover of the reclusive writer J.D. Salinger. She has enjoyed a certain amount of literary fame because of her association with him, but more recently she is known as a columnist and writer. Her narrative is about her correspondence with a man in prison and how he duped her into believing that he was an understanding and marvelous fellow. She now realizes her error in judgment, but she also recounts how seemingly "normal" men had also duped her- Seemingly normal men (not in prison) who were just as crazy. I find it amazing that an educated woman with a newspaper column could fall for such a line, but then again...Maybe it isn't all that far-fetched, as explained in the quote above. I have dated a CEO, a doctor, a high-level Dallas corporate recruiter, a newspaper publisher, an environmental engineer.... ALL CRAZY. Good jobs and good incomes do not a sane man make. Amen, sister.
Moving on to secret woman #2. I also read an article about a book that has been written about Ted Hughes' mistress, Assia Wevill. While I knew he had a mistress when his late wife (Sylvia Plath) committed suicide, I did not know that Assia met with the same fate. Ted and Assia had a child together, and of course, Ted left them. She fell into a horrible state and killed both her daughter and herself shortly after this. I did not know this until recently. What a horrible fall it must have been to go from other woman to new woman to new mother to yesterday's news. The Ted-Assia-Sylvia love triangle has long fascinated me- I guess because Ted's and Sylvia's poetry is so incredible. (Sylvia's is much better, though.) Such human tragedy... and tragedy that goes on each and every day to people far less famous.
Now before any of you accuse me of being a man-hater, let me say this: These women made their choices. However, when dealing with matters of the human heart, such men are total cads. I know these cads. I lived with one, for crying out loud. They will suck you up and leave you dry and feel completely justified in their misguided ethos to do so. The difference is that these women had to deal with these men in very public ways and weren't able to get over it.
Write on, Joyce. Rest in peace, Sylvia and Assia. The secret is out.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Things I Do Not Understand
1. Why people have to kill in the name of God (or Allah, or whatever)
2. How Rick Perry was elected governor
3. The fascination with Grey's Anatomy
4. How to solve geometric proofs
5. Why my back has to be messed up
6. How to determine gender in French nouns
7. Why women who are not nice have nice husbands
8. Why my almost seven year old has a better grasp of the parts of speech than my sophomores
9. Star Trek
10. How Tivo works
2. How Rick Perry was elected governor
3. The fascination with Grey's Anatomy
4. How to solve geometric proofs
5. Why my back has to be messed up
6. How to determine gender in French nouns
7. Why women who are not nice have nice husbands
8. Why my almost seven year old has a better grasp of the parts of speech than my sophomores
9. Star Trek
10. How Tivo works
Sunday, January 21, 2007
It's a Bittersweet Symphony, This Life
Is there any shame in finding beauty in sadness? Because it's THERE. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than a sad song, sad film, or a sad story. Now I'm not talking about the completely sad and miserable stories where there is no catharsis, no redemption or those packed with senseless violence. Those get on my nerves. Instead, I'm talking about those insights into the human experience that make me appreciate all of this senseless beauty and wonder that exists. I like to see how emotions come together- regardless of what those emotions happen to be. Sometimes they come together like water and oil, but in a truly beautiful bittersweet moment...They blend perfectly. (Like Neopolitan ice cream- Pardon the simile. I'm practicing.)
I catch a lot of crap from my AP students who are still young, mostly optimistic, and completely idealistic. They can't understand why so much literature is, in their words, "like so depressing." I try to explain that what they deem depressing is in fact beautiful and representative of the human experience. Life isn't Hollywood, and there are many of my loyal readers (props to you!) who not only agree with this statement, but who have lived it. This explains why some of the best poetry has been written by mentally unstable drunks, agoraphobics, and young aristocrats dying of tuberculosis. My intent is not to dampen the sparks of optimism of today's youth, but instead, I find it important to be aware of the multitude of human experience and to be open to whatever life brings. Sometimes life can be pretty sucky; however, if you can drown your melancholy in a song, a poem, or a film, I find that it makes the condition much more bearable, even enjoyable. So embrace the bittersweet. Feel it and connect yourself to the universe as we know it.
I catch a lot of crap from my AP students who are still young, mostly optimistic, and completely idealistic. They can't understand why so much literature is, in their words, "like so depressing." I try to explain that what they deem depressing is in fact beautiful and representative of the human experience. Life isn't Hollywood, and there are many of my loyal readers (props to you!) who not only agree with this statement, but who have lived it. This explains why some of the best poetry has been written by mentally unstable drunks, agoraphobics, and young aristocrats dying of tuberculosis. My intent is not to dampen the sparks of optimism of today's youth, but instead, I find it important to be aware of the multitude of human experience and to be open to whatever life brings. Sometimes life can be pretty sucky; however, if you can drown your melancholy in a song, a poem, or a film, I find that it makes the condition much more bearable, even enjoyable. So embrace the bittersweet. Feel it and connect yourself to the universe as we know it.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Playlist for a Cold January Saturday
What am I listening to this morning?
Debaser- The Pixies (must be thinking of my brother)
Ain't No Easy Way- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (always a classic)
Family- Clinic (These guys are so weird, but they rock!)
Y Control- The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (another kickin' garage sound band)
Pretty Persuasion- R.E.M. (old R.E.M. - before Stipe sold his soul to the devil)
The View From the Afternoon-Arctic Monkeys (I know, I know- They're hyped, but rightfully so...)
Sudden Stars- Stereolab (The 60's mod sound never disappoints.)
Stay Away From Heaven- Yo La Tengo (ditto)
Meet Me At the Movies- The Go (Post White Stripes fun!)
All The Money Or The Simple Life Honey- The Dandy Warhols (Gotta have a Dandy's song in there somewhere.... Today this is in honor of my new Dandy t-shirt.)
This is enough to get anyone's butt off of the couch. Hence, my motivation for keeping the sounds of blissful noise pop/garage rock revival streaming through mi casa while the coffee pot works overtime. It's cold, but who cares?
I should be grading papers right now.
Debaser- The Pixies (must be thinking of my brother)
Ain't No Easy Way- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (always a classic)
Family- Clinic (These guys are so weird, but they rock!)
Y Control- The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (another kickin' garage sound band)
Pretty Persuasion- R.E.M. (old R.E.M. - before Stipe sold his soul to the devil)
The View From the Afternoon-Arctic Monkeys (I know, I know- They're hyped, but rightfully so...)
Sudden Stars- Stereolab (The 60's mod sound never disappoints.)
Stay Away From Heaven- Yo La Tengo (ditto)
Meet Me At the Movies- The Go (Post White Stripes fun!)
All The Money Or The Simple Life Honey- The Dandy Warhols (Gotta have a Dandy's song in there somewhere.... Today this is in honor of my new Dandy t-shirt.)
This is enough to get anyone's butt off of the couch. Hence, my motivation for keeping the sounds of blissful noise pop/garage rock revival streaming through mi casa while the coffee pot works overtime. It's cold, but who cares?
I should be grading papers right now.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Confessions of an Accused Man-Hater
For probably the first time in my life, I was recently referred to as a "man hater." This comment forced me to reflect upon my feelings/thoughts/awareness of those glorious creatures of the opposite gender. I had to ask myself- Could this statement be true?
What I realized is that I am probably one of the least man hating women you'll ever meet. How could I be so bold as to say this? Well, I have a few reasons to back this thang up.
1. I see the goodness in men. While other women may see exterior actions as proof of internal content, I can see beyond these. Sometimes this has gotten me into trouble because sometimes I have been wrong. But I think I'm right most of the time.
2. I have a grasp on some of the struggles that men face. Maybe this comes from reading books; I can't be sure. For example, someone very dear to me was having a hard time moving forward in his life. He was having trouble accepting the way his life had turned out, and he was still holding on to a dream of a life that never quite materialized. Are these things he told me? No. I figured them out. And then I listened... and then we became friends.
3. Men are loyal. Forget this "girlfriends" stuff. Maybe that works for some women, but I have met few women that I can trust. I have many more men in my life whom I trust and with whom I can be myself. There is something sacred in a friendship between a woman and a man; a freedom to be yourself because there is no competition factor.
4. I appreciate a man's opinion on things. I learned long ago that men and women perceive situations differently. To become a more well-rounded person, I have often sought the advice and/or opinions of my male friends. Men see the world in a more black and white fashion and are more likely to be upfront about what they really think about things. I appreciate this.
So, no man hating here... Let the accusations fly. I am not a man-hater. I may have been burned by them and some have let me down, but more times than not, my life has been enriched because of the men in my life.
What I realized is that I am probably one of the least man hating women you'll ever meet. How could I be so bold as to say this? Well, I have a few reasons to back this thang up.
1. I see the goodness in men. While other women may see exterior actions as proof of internal content, I can see beyond these. Sometimes this has gotten me into trouble because sometimes I have been wrong. But I think I'm right most of the time.
2. I have a grasp on some of the struggles that men face. Maybe this comes from reading books; I can't be sure. For example, someone very dear to me was having a hard time moving forward in his life. He was having trouble accepting the way his life had turned out, and he was still holding on to a dream of a life that never quite materialized. Are these things he told me? No. I figured them out. And then I listened... and then we became friends.
3. Men are loyal. Forget this "girlfriends" stuff. Maybe that works for some women, but I have met few women that I can trust. I have many more men in my life whom I trust and with whom I can be myself. There is something sacred in a friendship between a woman and a man; a freedom to be yourself because there is no competition factor.
4. I appreciate a man's opinion on things. I learned long ago that men and women perceive situations differently. To become a more well-rounded person, I have often sought the advice and/or opinions of my male friends. Men see the world in a more black and white fashion and are more likely to be upfront about what they really think about things. I appreciate this.
So, no man hating here... Let the accusations fly. I am not a man-hater. I may have been burned by them and some have let me down, but more times than not, my life has been enriched because of the men in my life.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The Sweetest Songs
As I drove to the airport on the morning of December 30th, the city was still asleep and the traffic was minimal. Because of these unusual factors, I was able to listen to the radio pretty intently. There is one particular piece that I heard on that morning that has stayed with me. I have thought of it often, and I think it might be one of the more beautiful stories that I have heard in quite some time.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6696483
Pablo Neruda is one of my favorite poets. Even in translation, his writing is haunting and sublime. His expressions of love are not filled with trite rhyme but are instead infused with a constant sense of longing, loss, and tenderness. He realizes that life is short and that true love is not. I cannot express it in any other fashion: I love these sonnets. Obviously, Peter Lieberman does, too.
The story of this couple moved me for so many reasons. First, they shared a common love of music and of art. Secondly, they truly loved each other and seemed to value each other's passions and talents. Their love was cut short, and hearing Peter Lieberson's cracking voice from his hospital room in Houston was enough to move me to tears. Few people find love like that. Even fewer have it for long.
"When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish, full-flowered:
so that you can reach everything my love directs you to.
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song."
Pablo Neruda-
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6696483
Pablo Neruda is one of my favorite poets. Even in translation, his writing is haunting and sublime. His expressions of love are not filled with trite rhyme but are instead infused with a constant sense of longing, loss, and tenderness. He realizes that life is short and that true love is not. I cannot express it in any other fashion: I love these sonnets. Obviously, Peter Lieberman does, too.
The story of this couple moved me for so many reasons. First, they shared a common love of music and of art. Secondly, they truly loved each other and seemed to value each other's passions and talents. Their love was cut short, and hearing Peter Lieberson's cracking voice from his hospital room in Houston was enough to move me to tears. Few people find love like that. Even fewer have it for long.
"When I die, I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me once more:
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you
to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.
I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else
to continue to flourish, full-flowered:
so that you can reach everything my love directs you to.
so that my shadow can travel along in your hair,
so that everything can learn the reason for my song."
Pablo Neruda-
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Going Forward, Going Back
The college experience is wasted on the clueless youth of our country. Someone told me this when I was dumb and 17 and applying to college; and though I scoffed at the time, every year I find this statement to be more accurate.
When I entered college, I had only a vague notion of how I wanted to live my life. Every day bred a new idea, and my teachers' reminders that I could do or be anything I wanted to be only confounded the problem. I let my parents call many of the shots and then begrudged them all.
Today, my students have even more realms of possibility and are even more confused. Most of them, like me, have grown up in fairly sheltered environments and view the world with fearful apprehension. They fear being left behind, and this fear combined with such broad and vast choices seem to shut them down. They give up before they start. To them, adulthood is something to be avoided at all costs because it's just too frightening.
How I wish I could go back to those days of college applications and limitless possibility. Only now do I truly believe that I could have gone anywhere or done anything that I really wanted to do. What would I change? Who would I be now? I honestly haven't a clue.
Sure, I can make choices now, but I have responsibilities and obligations that cannot be ignored. The more productive action for me to take now is to instill the belief in my students that they don't have to settle, their parents aren't always right, and they do have the world at their feet. They have a bigger destiny than cluelessness.
When I entered college, I had only a vague notion of how I wanted to live my life. Every day bred a new idea, and my teachers' reminders that I could do or be anything I wanted to be only confounded the problem. I let my parents call many of the shots and then begrudged them all.
Today, my students have even more realms of possibility and are even more confused. Most of them, like me, have grown up in fairly sheltered environments and view the world with fearful apprehension. They fear being left behind, and this fear combined with such broad and vast choices seem to shut them down. They give up before they start. To them, adulthood is something to be avoided at all costs because it's just too frightening.
How I wish I could go back to those days of college applications and limitless possibility. Only now do I truly believe that I could have gone anywhere or done anything that I really wanted to do. What would I change? Who would I be now? I honestly haven't a clue.
Sure, I can make choices now, but I have responsibilities and obligations that cannot be ignored. The more productive action for me to take now is to instill the belief in my students that they don't have to settle, their parents aren't always right, and they do have the world at their feet. They have a bigger destiny than cluelessness.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Thoughts During Bus Duty
Wow look at those icicles on the fence Why is that kid standing in the mud Was that a snowflake I just saw I wish I had a Pop-Tart right now No wait a waffle I can't forget to stop by the library otherwise I'll owe them money Dang, I am out of stamps I can't wait to go walking this afternoon Maybe I'll last about 30 minutes max Still, it will feel great I can't believe that kid wants to have a baby Have I not been able to talk any sense into him I guess not Here comes Bus 1.......
Anthem for a Beautiful World
Despite the full-fledged whining that I've heard from many of my fellow Texans in recent days, I enjoy the cold. I savor the cold. There is such beauty in a frosted landscape, a grey-shaded earth. All seems to be in a sleepy peace.
Beyond the physical attractiveness of the cold, I find that it connects me to ages past. As I shiver in my gas-heated home, I imagine the Bohemian settlers in Nebraska surviving their first winters. When I eat the homemade beef stew prepared in my electric Crock Pot, I think of the Germans making their way across the windy plains to find plots of land to farm. I try to fathom their cold. I try to fathom such will.
Though I'd like to believe that I am made of such grit, I know how spoiled I am by modern conveniences. I'm sure there's a great-great-great uncle reading this from above who is laughing at my audacity at this very moment. (Uncle Fritz? You there?) However, this doesn't take away the appreciation I have for those who cleared the way for me, nor the beauty I see in a wintry, January day. All is beautiful.
Beyond the physical attractiveness of the cold, I find that it connects me to ages past. As I shiver in my gas-heated home, I imagine the Bohemian settlers in Nebraska surviving their first winters. When I eat the homemade beef stew prepared in my electric Crock Pot, I think of the Germans making their way across the windy plains to find plots of land to farm. I try to fathom their cold. I try to fathom such will.
Though I'd like to believe that I am made of such grit, I know how spoiled I am by modern conveniences. I'm sure there's a great-great-great uncle reading this from above who is laughing at my audacity at this very moment. (Uncle Fritz? You there?) However, this doesn't take away the appreciation I have for those who cleared the way for me, nor the beauty I see in a wintry, January day. All is beautiful.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Lessons I've Learned About Men
1. When a man says he'll call, he probably won't.
2. A man might say he loves you for who you are, but he will still wish you looked like a pin-up girl.
3. It's easier for women to trust again after being burned than it is for men.
4. Men do not like being alone.
5. Men do not like it when you are clingy, but they do not like it if you're not. Figure that one out.
6. Drunken rants reveal all you need to know. And more.
7. A man needs to feel smarter than you, even though he may admire your intellect.
8. If a man has been burned before, you will always be suspect.
9. A man does not love you if he tells you so too soon.
10. Never believe it when he says "I'm going to leave her."
2. A man might say he loves you for who you are, but he will still wish you looked like a pin-up girl.
3. It's easier for women to trust again after being burned than it is for men.
4. Men do not like being alone.
5. Men do not like it when you are clingy, but they do not like it if you're not. Figure that one out.
6. Drunken rants reveal all you need to know. And more.
7. A man needs to feel smarter than you, even though he may admire your intellect.
8. If a man has been burned before, you will always be suspect.
9. A man does not love you if he tells you so too soon.
10. Never believe it when he says "I'm going to leave her."
What is FM 371?
It is the highway that goes nowhere.
It is where I do my best thinking, zoning, and realizing.
It is the gateway to another place.
It is my new blog.
It is where I do my best thinking, zoning, and realizing.
It is the gateway to another place.
It is my new blog.
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