Welcome to the Real World

Just for the record, today I hurt. I did lunges yesterday and my thighs are on fire! My shoulders are killing me too and I still have to work out again today. Further I have now been on this new diet for two days. The food (delivered every morning to my house) isn’t half bad at all. Overall, I’m pretty impressed. However I am adjusting. The portions are huge and the calories are right and everything, but I am still hungry. I think it will just take a little time…

So now, with the exception of finishing up my writing samples for PhD, I am a free agent. No plays, classes or big dramas going on. It’s kind of strange really. I wonder how long I can manage it. We’ll see.

The play went really well. It was strange to sit in the audience and just watch. I had written it and directed it, and yet I found myself profoundly affected by the story. The whole experience ended up being rather surreal. Almost strange. Most of all I was just so proud of the kids and what they accomplished, the fruit of their hard work. We raised nearly $1500 for youth missions in two showings.

Mostly, I feel kind of disconnected, today. There are some odd things swirling around me and I am mostly just watching. My team teacher has never had the luck I did with our assistant principal and is now rather fighting for her job. On the flip side, my evaluations have never been more glowing. I think the assistant principal is wrong and frankly misguided in her persecution of my good friend, but there is little I can do about it and mostly I feel guilty to be succeeding in comparison.

Then there is therapy. This past week my therapist wanted to talk about a past relationship. That was a long time ago, the way I felt about that, and while people are still a part of my life, that particular facet was put to rest a long time ago. Yet here we were discussing it and there I was crying. I don’t know why I was crying. What I felt back then was very real, very deep and is now very over. I mean, I still have a lot of affection for him, I mean, that is love too, but we aren’t really “friends” and seeing him now I know that it would have been a bad match, if it had ever even been a possibility, which I don’t even really believe it was. The tears on that whole mess were dry long ago such that now it is mostly a somewhat funny chapter… And there I was crying. I don’t think it was about that relationship at all, really. We are getting to the problem now and the infection is big, and sore and swollen and we brushed it and it hurt. I am bracing myself for the extraction because I think we are about to get to the biggest, hardest part soon.

Now for the funny. Nana. Oh my. My poor father. He called Nana to get some information, even though she is not his mother, they are still friendly and she does live with me, his daughter, after all. Anyway, he called and Nana talked his ear off for thirty minutes about Mom’s boyfriend. How much he was just like Dad and clearly Mom is trying to find a replacement. My parents haven’t spoken in over a decade. My father was polite with Nana, but had no idea what to say, so Nana kept talking. Dad and I laughed about it later when he called to tell me about it.

Lastly, camp. Camp is blowing full bore with rumor, espionage, back-stabbing, miscommunication and big surprises everywhere. Several of us are really hoping that the soap opera stops soon and that several of our leaders mature quickly before summer starts. Mostly I guess I just think it is funny now, but I am in the minority on that one. My prayer is that we will find someone suitable to be my assistant. I need help.

Anyway, that’s my post for today; I promise the next one will actually have a connection or theme…

Silliness of a Friday

Today I am tired. Bone tired. The kind of tired you have to be if you stayed up with a baby during the night. I know that is the kind of tired I am because I stayed up with a six month old. Now, the baby wasn’t screaming, crying, inconsolable, she was simply awake and happy to be alive. I was not, but that didn’t seem to bother her much.

Nora is Robin’s youngest daughter. She is an important component of the play and so she went to dress rehearsal last night, spent the night and will go with me to performance tomorrow. She is a terrific baby, which is why I was willing to try this, but even in being so congenial, this was quite a trick. She woke up at Two AM and I was unable to get her settled until Four Thirty.

Today we are starting Greek Mythology and the Odyssey. After explaining to the class that Aphrodite came into being from the sea foam that was generated by Cronos throwing the parts of Uranus that was castrated into the ocean, I got a rather odd question. “So does Aphrodite have both ‘parts’ then? Oh! Is that where the word ‘hermaphrodite’ comes from?” That was fun to untangle, let me tell you!

Last week a child decided that they would rather do an entire project over again, one they had spent an entire week doing, rather than come back to my room and get their binder that they had left in class the day before. The other teachers think I should be proud of the fear I generate.

Two of my actors, who happen to be brother and sister, were rehearsing so loudly yesterday, before they came to dress rehearsal that their father actually thought they were arguing and was about to break up the fight.

The annually circulated rumor that I can do a one handed push up has begun the rounds in the 9th Grade Academy again. Where these kids get this I have no idea. If I deny it they don’t believe it. If I say I can they want to see. Again, one of the new coaches came by to ask me if it was true. I will neither confirm nor deny my ability to perform such skill! That is my answer and I’m sticking to it!

Next week Nana and I will be getting our meals delivered to us each day by a service that cooks meals from the Zone Diet. What does it say about me that I now have someone cleaning my house, I need a trainer to work out and am having my life catered. All this to try and lose weight. I feel slightly pathetic.

Nana may or may not have chipped a bone in her foot. She doesn’t care. She just wants to hold baby Nora and rock.

I just want to sleep.

Play tonight. No broken legs, hopefully not even a broken foot!

Life Imitating Fiction

So I read these two amazing books, 600+ pages each in two days. Twilight and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. She’s a down to earth, Mormon kind of girl (she went to Brigam Young, so I am assuming) who writes fantasy fiction about vampires and werewolves. How cool is that. Her books are very angsty, sensual and romantic, yet have no swearing and the word sex has never even been used I don’t think. It’s kind of neat. It makes me think of chivalry and courtly love and the whole "romancer of one’s soul" kind of thing.

Anyway, in this book, or by the second one anyway, the heroine, who finds herself in love with a vampire (and he is a good one, who doesn’t bite people), then finds herself broken when he splits up with her for her own safety. She then starts spending a lot of time with a new boy with a secret of his own and he becomes her best friend. Bella comments on how she feels about the new best friend.

“I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn’t feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice-warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor. I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power… Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so wrong?”

There is no fickle Romeo in my life, and not exactly a Jacob either, but I felt this passage, all the way down to my soul. I feel like the echo.

I’m not sure what to do with that picture, now that I have it.

Dilemma

So now I am faced with a Dilemma. It may not seem like much of one, but it’s there for me, none the less.

My therapist and I have pretty much agreed that the way I deal with relationships, specifically romantic entanglements, is pretty much a survival mode kind of thing. For the most part I don’t get involved; I keep myself out of the game and keep myself too busy to notice. Then I go around mothering people. All of this is making me very tired, too tired to miss what I don’t have except on the rare occasion when I sit still too long… But for the most part this system works. Except not exactly right now because I have managed to get myself a little more entangled with several people a little more than I usually do or meant to this time even, and these relationships aren't romantic, exactly, but they are getting rather intimate emotionally and I am a bit confused and overwhelmed sometimes because I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, them, whatever!

If we fix it, which supposedly we are trying to do, I should be able to actually have effective romantic relationships (just one would be fine with me, though). However, being 6’3, large framed, educated, opinionated, not to mention (dare I say it!) a fundamentalist Christian, and that I would rather be alone than with the wrong person, and the odds of me finding someone become slim to none. So I’d be fixed, and capable, but incredible lonely, possibly, because I wouldn’t have my survival techniques anymore.

So while intellectually the thought of healing is one I see a worthwhile and valuable, I find that my heart is rather rebelling against this idea of change.

Change is hard, and scary…

How’s that for psycho-babble!

I believe...

OK, again in a rampant theft of a TV show idea, I am going to tell you what I believe. Last night on Grey’s Anatomy one character in a very heated, stressful moment started spouting off what she believed about life, herself and others in an effort to deal with some issues. I like the idea. Then there is also the great and hilarious segment at the End of Blue Collar Comedy Tour Rides Again where the four comedians list what they believe. This is a compilation of both theories. Laugh, Cry, Agree or Scream as you see fit.

I believe that parents should be held accountable for their children and children should be held responsible for their behavior.

I believe that if you say it, you mean it and if you don’t you should not have said it and if you did, you can’t take it back and pretend it was never said. You can apologize, but only if you mean it!

I believe in one God, Maker of Heaven and Earth, who sent his son, Jesus who died for our sins that we may have life everlasting and life more abundant.

I believe that you have the right to believe what you want to, and I can’t persecute you for it, but you can’t persecute me either. If you hold me in disdain, it’s a free country, I can dislike you too.

I believe that regardless of what God you believe in you do not have the right to hurt someone else just because it makes your life easier, better or you feel like it. Terrorism is not a political statement. It is simply evil.

I believe that we should tell people when we love them, even if we are afraid it won’t be returned and I believe that even if you don’t feel the same way about someone who loves you, you should still appreciate and respect the compliment for what it is.

I believe that gas happens, as do burps, sneezes and well other gaseous emissions. Why is that so hysterically funny or rude depending on who you are hanging out with?

I believe that if you emit gas, you should however say, “Excuse me!”

I believe that it is OK to go to work without makeup on. Just don’t expect people to compliment you on how your red nose brings out the circles under your eyes…

I believe that it is OK to be angry at my mother even though I forgive her and to adore my father even though he is not perfect and that both of those feelings do not mean I chose sides.

I believe it is OK to both adore my brother and think he is a moron at the same time and to not hold him to a higher standard of behavior just because he happens to be a pastor.

I believe that mothers who are well respected Christian authors should not discuss their opinions of their adult daughters on the Internet, especially if they use specifics, and they should deal with their family problems at home and not try to use the well meaning comments of people outside the situation who don’t know the whole story as justification for their bad behaviors.

I believe that putting cream in my coffee is an important source of calcium and not a frivolous use of fat and calories.

I believe that anyone who has a birthday near a major gift giving holiday (30 days either side) should have the right to select a new birth date to avoid the whole only one big present a year thing!

I believe that being a size 2 is not nearly as attractive as being a size 12, unless you were really born that size.

I believe that my doctor’s BMI chart is a hell spawned document designed to make me hate myself and I would burn the stupid thing if he would leave me alone in the office with it for more than 60 seconds!

I believe that men are stupid, but that women are crazy so we desperately need each other.

I believe that pizza is a perfectly acceptable breakfast food on Saturday Morning and calling it Italian Cheese Toast is just an attempt to make it sound like the breakfast food it is!

I believe that I am someone worth loving and have value. I believe I can sing well, cook even better and write best of all… when I let my heart go and just breathe.

I believe that Nana has always been, is and will always be a handful and I am thankful for it everyday.

I believe that dogs are better than cats and that I should not feel guilty for that!

I believe that children, when possible, should be in pairs, about 2-3 years apart.

I believe that the boy scouts, churches, schools and other programs for young people are good things run by people, who unfortunately are flawed and sometimes bad and so bad things happen, but I don’t think that makes the organization itself bad unless they planned for it to happen, didn’t stop it or somehow encouraged it.

I believe that pornography is a cancer.

I believe that two scoops are always better than one, but three is too many.

I believe that I am not finished.

I believe that there is nothing wrong with the Harry Potter books, and that people have the right to disagree with that and not let their children read them, but that they should not spend time writing books about why HP is bad. If they don’t like it, come up with something better that you do like and your children can read. I am thankful for the people that have taken that attitude and I enjoyed reading their books.

I believe that true love, the kind that lasts, that makes real marriages, is a choice you make.

I believe there will be a woman president someday, but I don’t want it to be Hilary Clinton.

I believe that as a teacher I make a difference and that someday some of my former students will be glad they knew me.

What do you believe?

V-D

When I was in high school I thought that was a really funny thing to call Valentines Day. If you are under 25 you may not understand that particular whimsy on my part, and I am not willing to enlighten you, but I’m sure the rest of you understand that case of juvenile giggles.

Personally, I think that this is a holiday invented by Hallmark to cause single people to become suicidal. Because there just wasn’t enough of that in the world already. However, I have chosen to focus on Valentine’s Day as a day about love, the overall term, and not romantic love.

I was struck yesterday by how much love is in my life when I broaden that definition. I was told I was loved by four people yesterday, and they were all serious and specific in that sentiment. The number would increase to five if I included the non-verbal behaviors of my dog. Further I told four (five with dog) people that I loved them yesterday. Seems to me my life is full of love.

The first person who said they loved me was my mom. She had surgery yesterday to have her knee replaced. This is not a minor or un-painful surgery. My relationship with my mother is fraught with issues that are sometimes just as painful, but she called me to say, that she loved me. That mattered. I love her too. That matters just as much.

The second was a dear, sweet, young lady who is a joy to know and a delight to watch. She has a valentine this year and bubbles over with the joy of that, even though she can’t be with him today. She told me she loved me, just like she always does and she means it every time, it is not a throw away thing for her to say. I love her too, and I imagine I would love her even if she didn’t tell me that she loves me, but the fact that she does means the world to me.

The third was another good friend, a terrific guy, who I probably know better than most people. He is just starting out on a new adventure with a new lady and I think there is some real potential there, though there are still things to iron out. I told him that he was a good person and he deserves to be happy. I’m not sure he has had that pointed out to him in some time if at all, which is sad, because it’s true. We often tell each other that we love each other, and that is not a light thing, for all that it is not romantic.

The last person that told me they loved me was Nana. She had heard all three of my other conversations and as I hung up on the last one she said, “Wow, you really are spreading that all over the place!” So I just laughed at her, kissed her forehead and told her, “I love you, too.” She answered, “OK, as long as I get some too you can spread it around as much as you want.” Then she kissed me goodnight and said she loved me. Then she went to bed.

I snuggled on the couch with my precious Roo (who will be 6 on the 18^th), her head on my shoulder, and drank in her soft warmth.

It is Valentine’s Day, and I may be single, but today I am loved. More important there are many that I love. I only got to speak to four yesterday, but there are many and I am hopeful that even if I have not said it to them in the last 48 hours that they know. That is why I try to be sure I tell them when we talk. That I might bless them as they have blessed me.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you!

The Voices Of Poetry

It is that time of year again, when my class studies poetry and I find myself thinking, dreaming, and wondering about the human condition and what makes it so real. Now I recognize that this can be a dangerous line of thought without a beret and a drum and a lot of coffee, but it happens anyway.

My class learns about Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, Langston Hughes, Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Naomi Shallob Nye and Maya Angelou. We talk about imagery, Metaphor, Simile, Rhythm and the emotion that makes the abstract painting that is poetry. A lot of kids fall asleep. But here are some, each time who sit a bit straighter and their eyes grow wide and shining and I find myself pretending that I am talking only to them.

When I am lost in their gazes I believe that poetry is not dead and that there will be music forever. Those are the children I teach for. There are fewer of them, but they are there.

Today we talked about Langston Hughes and I let the students in on my strange fascination with voices. We all have qualities that we focus on in other people, attractants of sorts. It is not a sexual thing, though it is sensual and it part of how we perceive people. Some people focus on warm smiles, or expressive eyes or graceful hands. My thing is voices.

I could spend days in a room with just James Earl Jones voice, Sean Connery’s voice, Kathleen Turner’s voice, Glen Close’s voice. Sometimes it is a particular quality that I can name, deep tones, rich, resonant, and sometimes I don’t know why I like it, I just do. There are voices that have become comforting to me. Family members, good friends, and even a couple of students who had voices that really resonated with me (no pun intended). In that case the relationship, the personality, the other things influenced my perception of the voice, but either way, the memory of the voice becomes cherished to me.

There are things I am learning about myself now, because of therapy, and because of the introspection of entering my 30’s, applying for a PhD and watching Nana finish her life (she still has a decade to go, I am sure, but there is no doubt that her life is closing). One thing is the things I have heard that I did not want to, the ugly horrible things, another is the things, like I said, that I cherish, and then there is another funny category of the things I long to hear and what I imagine they sound like.

There was a time when I imagined what it would be like to hear “I love you” from someone special. For a long time, even after I knew I would never hear it, that way, from that person, I could still hear it. I remember the day I could no longer hear it anymore. Even though I had gotten over the loss of that relationship, I suffered a new anguish at the loss of the voice, the sound, the phrase. And understand I still had a friendship with that man, and saw him regularly, hearing his voice, even hearing him say those words to someone else, but I could no longer hear my imagination anymore… Not to say that it wasn’t a good thing and about time, I am just marking the moment of final loss.

When I listen to the poets, reading their poetry, I am always struck by their voices, the feeling, cadence and tones. For some reason I end up lost in my own memories of voices, past present and future and am struck by the absences as much as what is present.

If any of this made any sense, Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope for you all your voices are happy memories!

Commited

Now I have been challenged, as in, three people have complained about my lack of blogging, and I am trying to really open myself up on some issues, so I am recommitting myself to blogging. My goal is to blog three times a week. Not my previously usual five to seven, but I believe that three may be do-able. If we are approaching the end of the week and you have only seen one, you have my permission to send me sarcastic and snotty e-mail messages reminding me of my commitment, or lack there of…

To say that this past month (January, I mean) has been hectic, stressful, wonderful, excruciating, wouldn’t cover all the possibilities, and seeing as I don’t only speak in adjectives you’ll just have to take my word for it.

The first big issue/leap is that I have begun therapy. No, this does not mean that the men in white coats finally caught me with their great big butterfly net, I decided to do this on my own, for me, because I am worth it. Of course I figured I could just go in for a couple months get a quick “mind tune-up” on be back on my merry way by Easter. Yeah, OK, any more bright ideas, Sandy?

The therapist was very nice, very polite and very to the point. It doesn’t work that way. Several metaphors come to mind, and were used, but my favorite it the splinter. If you have a particularly big, nasty, painful splinter there comes a point of decision. Pulling it out will be excruciating, the most painful thing to do, more painful than just leaving it there, where it may only hurt if you bother it and occasionally when it becomes infected. However, if you pull it out, once allowed to heal, it will never hurt again. So, being a medic, I have opted to go for the pulling route. This is the point when the therapist then warns me, “You need to know, if we dig all this stuff up, it may get worse before it gets better.” OK. Let the pain begin!

Then there is my love life. Oh wait, that’s all in my head. Or more correctly, I was worried someone who I couldn’t date had feelings for me, but he doesn’t, which is good, because I can’t date him, for lots of good reasons, only now I feel a little let down to find out that he was never really interested to begin with… Good thing I am already in therapy.

Meanwhile I have officially submitted my online application for my PhD, meaning I am now officially in the process of seeking those three stupid letters which also means I have to get off my butt and correct, type and format three writing samples highlighting my academic writing ability. This is my least favorite kind of writing and now I really have to do it.

Not to mention they took away my team teacher… who, by the way, is now pregnant with her fourth child (and she is two years younger than I am!) while her youngest is only five months, making her pregnant twice in the same school year(!)… and so I feel like my right arm has been cut off and I’ve been cut off from my best friend. Oh, wait, that’s right, there are always my boys to talk too… Yeah, the drama of camp is in full gear with intrigue, espionage, betrayal and general macho stupidity all running amok over my phone and internet!

So, as you can see, we really are all full up of crazy here. Even Nana.

Oh, Nana! Poor Nana! We have had to label every cabinet in the house. Every appliance has a set of typed directions taped to it. Honestly I think her visit with my mom seriously undermined her confidence in herself. It’s getting better, but she still does odd things and then gets frustrated. Putting her bra on backwards was one of the funniest moments I’ve had in weeks, but she was understandably upset. Also, Lindsey lets her go to the Young Professionals Sunday School Class (My class) when I am not there and Lindsey takes Nana to church, but if I am in church I want Nana to go to her own class. So then she whines about the old fuddy duddies and how all they talk about is their painful hips! Also, she keeps insisting on wrapping the dogs in blankets to keep them warm. They are shelties! With huge thick fur coats! Piper puts up with it, but Roo is really not interested in being covered and keeps hiding from Nana… It’s kind of cute, but it frustrates Nana.

Lastly the workouts are going well. I work with my trainer four days a week now and we have even added running to the whole process. My waist is changing, but not very fast and not like I’d like, though everything else is going great. It’s hard not to consider some chemical options and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about that yet… But either way, I am making progress for all that I am tired all the time and ache perpetually.

So, that’s all for this week, but next week, three blogs by Friday at 5:00PM.

I promise!