Two days snowed in, off work, and getting to a point where its enough to start seeing pavement appear. Sure its fun to stay inside...sort of. I've been about as productive workwise as i'm gonna be. Done some grading, some writing, painted the bathroom, hung some new cabinets, slayed the laundry monster and cooked a bunch of healthy meals. I do appreciate days off but (and there's always a but) I see now why I always have a schedule that's jam packed. I bring it on myself , way too much at a time, and then I live the shit out of it. That's all I can do. It's what I need.
Over the past week I've caught up on stuff that was falling behind, and managed to even get some rest. However, I think it's not so good for me to have downtime as much as I have had this week..unless people live near me more...which they don't...yet. And every time I write that--or something like it, I see what it is that's missing. And what's missing sucks. There's always been accessibility in my life. Not so much anymore. Feels like the damn sidewalk rolls up at night and I can't just stay still.
Living here has taken the part of me that I don't like to look at and put it on display, like a photo that's been blown up so big I can see pores and roots. There has been so much isolation and so much solitude in the last three point five years of Keriness it's like i'm in the octagon with my antithesis. I know it's good to get away from things that are sad, and things that hurt. Even too much good stuff can cause damage. But if anyone ever asked me what not to do; this is it. Don't leave everything you know really well at the same time. Don't even gradually get rid of everything you know well.
Maybe that's selfish, or maybe its not something people will get until they do something fundamentally wrong or at least painful. The other day I was reminded of a book I read that was aptly titled Wherever You Go, There You Are. It was all about meditating and staying in the moment. So therefore depression is in the past, anxiety is in the future (loosely) and there should not be any trauma in this moment. Sounds simple. Many simple people I know totally get it. They can practice it. Yet when your brain glides zoomily like a luge from the minute you sit up in panic out of deep dead sleep...it's not simple to practice the concept.
Last night I woke up at 4am holding my breath, wide awake and wired and feeling like I was in mid-marathon mode. Flight response kicked in. I had to get out of the room, and almost out of the house but I paused at the computer wrote some shit and got sucked in. I recently had dental work and realized that the crown that felt too tall and I was going to get readjusted is now ground flat like the rest of my teeth. I felt a shooting pain behind my eyes as I typed fervently and tried to purge this negativity. Then I began to wonder if it was really negative at all.
For months I couldn't write a word. I was swamped with editing revising grading commenting helping serving compromising and settling for less and less and less. If you think that's a mean thing to say it's not. I've often said I lost myself but really I just expanded to avoid the insides of a brain that works too hard. The go go go went to: I better not, which morphed into: get it over with, so fast that I didn't even see it happening till I was almost gone. Almost is the word that matters. It doesn't matter anymore if you get past the almost. Nothing would.
Ok morbidity aside, I think this is all good. When things start to inspire me I can't stop writing. I take pictures and run miles and will likely visit you in the near future. Personal reflection leads to revelation, and eventually, to the person you always were and may have lost a part of. But whatever we do we can always get back there. Now that I'm back to work tomorrow and have less time it will be a challenge but I think I have a lot of ideas on what's in the future. Especially since there is finally a chance that the future will not be here in solidarity.
Enough already see you on the dancefloor.
27 February 2010
24 February 2010
Pre Core
As I elliptically exercised my frustrations for an hour today, I was so in the zone that I not only was tapping my fingers but also lip synching words to a Tyas track. Sweat poured down my back and my hair stood up more askew than its namesake DJ. My heart was pounding and I could hear it in my ears behind the deafening beats that tore through my drums and thrashed my lobes. I blinked drops away and wiped my sleeve across my brow. My feet were rapidly circling and the muscles in my arms felt like they would just pop out of existence.
Of course I sometimes forget that people can see me, and this must have been quite amusing to the few that were pounding along right beside me. I get into it. I get really into the shit I do that makes me sweat. Yeah that sounds about right. Every time I have a good workout I get whatever is bothering me to step off for a minute or sixty. Everything is just bass, drums, bass, record after record, melodic vocals appear woven throughout in an intricate linking of notes and bangs. Thumps and thuds rail my brain like a driving drill. Touching the tips of my fingers to the bottom of the bowl filled with numbness that replaced my wicked pint glass ten months ago.
Don't get me wrong I love the insane amount of time I spend ellipticalsizing. I equally enjoy a flow that follows spinning that can only be likened to ... well the flow that follows the other kind of spinning. But today I noticed something different. I noticed the black and gray trimmed icon that sits just under my pumping legs. Outlined in silver there is a glimpse of something bright. Ironic but appropriate I see what was always there and I just haven't seen and SEEN before. A label, a name, like a record circling as I try to read its label and twist my eyes and neck along.
PRECOR.
All irony is not lost on this girl. I had to stop myself from giggling maniacally. I had to take a deep breath and fight not to tap the person next to me and explain that PRECOR must be the motivator. It must be what we are all fighting for after all. Really? I don't want gym friends. It's ten bucks a month and semi-desolate in the late morning, so I just need my solitude and sweat and Tyas tracks and huge water bottle. But PRECOR is not just what we sweat for, but also a warning.
If I look back to last year, even a few months ago, I can see how it was Previous to having a Core that was actually developing. There was nothing to show as a result of hard work. There was tired, angry, overwhelmed, overscheduled and exhaustion. It was Pre-Cor and I didn't give a shit about working out.
Now every time I look down and see my silver signet of seduction, my elephantine excellent elliptical all grey and black with silver trim I appreciate the sweat. I appreciate the shit I've been through and thank whoever is listening that I am no longer a piece of the messy massive millions who I will forever now think of as PRECORE.
Of course I sometimes forget that people can see me, and this must have been quite amusing to the few that were pounding along right beside me. I get into it. I get really into the shit I do that makes me sweat. Yeah that sounds about right. Every time I have a good workout I get whatever is bothering me to step off for a minute or sixty. Everything is just bass, drums, bass, record after record, melodic vocals appear woven throughout in an intricate linking of notes and bangs. Thumps and thuds rail my brain like a driving drill. Touching the tips of my fingers to the bottom of the bowl filled with numbness that replaced my wicked pint glass ten months ago.
Don't get me wrong I love the insane amount of time I spend ellipticalsizing. I equally enjoy a flow that follows spinning that can only be likened to ... well the flow that follows the other kind of spinning. But today I noticed something different. I noticed the black and gray trimmed icon that sits just under my pumping legs. Outlined in silver there is a glimpse of something bright. Ironic but appropriate I see what was always there and I just haven't seen and SEEN before. A label, a name, like a record circling as I try to read its label and twist my eyes and neck along.
PRECOR.
All irony is not lost on this girl. I had to stop myself from giggling maniacally. I had to take a deep breath and fight not to tap the person next to me and explain that PRECOR must be the motivator. It must be what we are all fighting for after all. Really? I don't want gym friends. It's ten bucks a month and semi-desolate in the late morning, so I just need my solitude and sweat and Tyas tracks and huge water bottle. But PRECOR is not just what we sweat for, but also a warning.
If I look back to last year, even a few months ago, I can see how it was Previous to having a Core that was actually developing. There was nothing to show as a result of hard work. There was tired, angry, overwhelmed, overscheduled and exhaustion. It was Pre-Cor and I didn't give a shit about working out.
Now every time I look down and see my silver signet of seduction, my elephantine excellent elliptical all grey and black with silver trim I appreciate the sweat. I appreciate the shit I've been through and thank whoever is listening that I am no longer a piece of the messy massive millions who I will forever now think of as PRECORE.
21 February 2010
Letting It Out
Over the past week I've realized a great, big, giant, load of shit about myself. It's not exactly all new stuff, but it's certainly stuff that I had put aside for a while--traded in for a facade that is just...not me. I've spent time this week just listening to friends, letting my brain wander as much as it wants and just letting my creativity come out. I feel like I should say come back out, but it was never fully away I don't think.
Monday I visited a friend for lunch, and another friend later on, and ended up just hanging around talking and listening, talking and listening, etc etc etc. I started to laugh at one point and thought about how long it's been since my laugh was real and not forced. How long it's been since I smiled so big and thought about the past in a way that doesn't hurt. Normally I would just rant and lament why it's like that...but something clicked. I got it. I finally got it.
On Friday night I went to a book cafe and read some of my poetry. I went because I got back in touch with a friend; a part of my heart. So I go, thinking I'm not sure I even want to get up and read but I'll watch and listen and see how I feel. As soon as I crossed the bridge and walked in the door of the soothing shelves of pages and pages I felt something I haven't felt in over 3 years...calm and comforted. Then I met a bunch of really nice, really laid back people, sat back, had some coffee, watched and listened, read some poems and was suddenly not a wreck.
So I've been a wreck more often than not for a few years I gotta admit. I know it's all in perspective and that I can tell some amazing stories on paper, and I know that there is nothing I regret. Not one thing; not a day. Of course everyone has their fucked up time just as much as they have those things that are worthy of being in the stories on paper. I just have been realizing that without the fucked up, there would be no amazing.
Today I went to a friend's theater production and again saw some awesome talent. Got to see people I haven't seen and always think about. It was a really nice day. Then after that I went to an old favorite place and ate a cheeseburger and reminisced with another piece of my heart. I was relaxed again. And I thought about how long it has been since I felt so relaxed. I didn't even think about why, but stuff started to make sense.
I always hear people talking about places they used to live and left, saying, "Oh I would never go back there because of all the bad shit that happened." Trust me I get how everywhere you look something reminds you of being sad. But I'm also starting to get that no matter where you go you take all that bullshit baggage with you. So if you relocate, try out a new side of yourself that's not real, but fools people for a while, and just be stagnant and uncreative, you end up with what I had just a short while ago. Being stuck.
When my friend's daughter was little, she says one day, "Stucks!" and when I looked at her I realized she was talking about being strapped into her highchair and was not happy about it. "Stucks" she yelled. Then it later became "I stucks" at two, and then "I stuck" at three, though I'm not sure what it has trans-morphed into at five. It makes me understand a lot when kids do that. They are totally uncorrupted and they say something simple that just blows your mind wide open and you just can't believe you thought everything was so complicated.
What's the moral of this one you ask? Well I guess it's just that I am not going to be stuck anymore. Whatever that means (and believe me I'm not sure) I refuse to just go through the motions for one more minute. If I decide I want to do something I'm doing it. If something doesn't seem right, I'm saying so. If something doesn't work out when it was supposed to, well...everything happens for a reason. How is this different than the person I always was? It isn't. That's the point. Sometimes it takes a little time, but you always end up finding yourself again. You can go years without realizing you were stuck, but once you do...run your fastest and do NOT look over your shoulder.
Monday I visited a friend for lunch, and another friend later on, and ended up just hanging around talking and listening, talking and listening, etc etc etc. I started to laugh at one point and thought about how long it's been since my laugh was real and not forced. How long it's been since I smiled so big and thought about the past in a way that doesn't hurt. Normally I would just rant and lament why it's like that...but something clicked. I got it. I finally got it.
On Friday night I went to a book cafe and read some of my poetry. I went because I got back in touch with a friend; a part of my heart. So I go, thinking I'm not sure I even want to get up and read but I'll watch and listen and see how I feel. As soon as I crossed the bridge and walked in the door of the soothing shelves of pages and pages I felt something I haven't felt in over 3 years...calm and comforted. Then I met a bunch of really nice, really laid back people, sat back, had some coffee, watched and listened, read some poems and was suddenly not a wreck.
So I've been a wreck more often than not for a few years I gotta admit. I know it's all in perspective and that I can tell some amazing stories on paper, and I know that there is nothing I regret. Not one thing; not a day. Of course everyone has their fucked up time just as much as they have those things that are worthy of being in the stories on paper. I just have been realizing that without the fucked up, there would be no amazing.
Today I went to a friend's theater production and again saw some awesome talent. Got to see people I haven't seen and always think about. It was a really nice day. Then after that I went to an old favorite place and ate a cheeseburger and reminisced with another piece of my heart. I was relaxed again. And I thought about how long it has been since I felt so relaxed. I didn't even think about why, but stuff started to make sense.
I always hear people talking about places they used to live and left, saying, "Oh I would never go back there because of all the bad shit that happened." Trust me I get how everywhere you look something reminds you of being sad. But I'm also starting to get that no matter where you go you take all that bullshit baggage with you. So if you relocate, try out a new side of yourself that's not real, but fools people for a while, and just be stagnant and uncreative, you end up with what I had just a short while ago. Being stuck.
When my friend's daughter was little, she says one day, "Stucks!" and when I looked at her I realized she was talking about being strapped into her highchair and was not happy about it. "Stucks" she yelled. Then it later became "I stucks" at two, and then "I stuck" at three, though I'm not sure what it has trans-morphed into at five. It makes me understand a lot when kids do that. They are totally uncorrupted and they say something simple that just blows your mind wide open and you just can't believe you thought everything was so complicated.
What's the moral of this one you ask? Well I guess it's just that I am not going to be stuck anymore. Whatever that means (and believe me I'm not sure) I refuse to just go through the motions for one more minute. If I decide I want to do something I'm doing it. If something doesn't seem right, I'm saying so. If something doesn't work out when it was supposed to, well...everything happens for a reason. How is this different than the person I always was? It isn't. That's the point. Sometimes it takes a little time, but you always end up finding yourself again. You can go years without realizing you were stuck, but once you do...run your fastest and do NOT look over your shoulder.
18 February 2010
Why I never watch the news
I'm home feeling crappy and decide to watch news. The first thing I see is a plane crash. Not just a plane crash but one that hit a building...again. The fact that there is an again would be enough, but this is a different point I want to make. As I flip the channels, I see it's either soap operas or the plane. Just yesterday we were watching the news and the lead story was a baby that was kidnapped and tossed off a bridge. If that's not the worst thing I've ever seen on TV without meaning to, nothing is. Following that one, is a story about a woman shooting her co-workers at a faculty meeting. Ok really? As the mood sours and settles slow as oozing molasses I mention how annoyingly tragic it is that there is nothing positive on the news...ever. We agree the news is not a happy place. With this in mind I can't watch it today either.
Therefore I decide to go out and get tea. My throat hurts, I've got a headache and screenface. I drive to Starbucks, get my Om and sip slowly savoring the smooth, green, soothing serum. As I head home, I see cops and traffic. In the five minutes that it took me to get my tea, someone crashed into...a fence, then a car inside the fence, then a bench, and where did the bench end up? In the house of those who own said fence. Amazing. Not only has most of the ice melted, but it's not snowing, not raining, and really I just couldn't comprehend that I just missed it by a minute.
So I pop a U-Turn and head home. When I get there I turn on my computer, avoid the TV and avert my eyes from the smoking tail section glaring at me from Yahoo...not again.
Therefore I decide to go out and get tea. My throat hurts, I've got a headache and screenface. I drive to Starbucks, get my Om and sip slowly savoring the smooth, green, soothing serum. As I head home, I see cops and traffic. In the five minutes that it took me to get my tea, someone crashed into...a fence, then a car inside the fence, then a bench, and where did the bench end up? In the house of those who own said fence. Amazing. Not only has most of the ice melted, but it's not snowing, not raining, and really I just couldn't comprehend that I just missed it by a minute.
So I pop a U-Turn and head home. When I get there I turn on my computer, avoid the TV and avert my eyes from the smoking tail section glaring at me from Yahoo...not again.
Ode to Zip Codes
10306 you grew me up,
taught me how to toast,
rave, drive and flip cups.
10304 you taught me solidarity,
how to be alone and strong,
make them all laugh, gasp, stare,
and then move the hell on.
10013 gave a glimpse of how it might have been,
to a girl who could have stayed and didn't,
pressed the boundaries often but not often enough,
then lost sight of everything because of other people's blindness
10306 you were revisited though not for long,
but re-damage you did.
Many have said one should never go back ,
but get over it you never know what would happen till you did.
10314 spawned a five-year party,
no regrets, no forgets,
back to school,
a smart spotty dottie.
10314 again was another first,
a house became a home,
first real one in years,
but no more alone.
07044 well you know,
I am never sure where that story will go.
I've managed to try and for 4 years make it stick,
But not without gallons and gallons of ick.
With brief batches of 718, 917 and 646,
One can almost be fooled that 973 might stick.
But one thing I've learned from all these first few,
Is to never let a zip code-ever define you.
taught me how to toast,
rave, drive and flip cups.
10304 you taught me solidarity,
how to be alone and strong,
make them all laugh, gasp, stare,
and then move the hell on.
10013 gave a glimpse of how it might have been,
to a girl who could have stayed and didn't,
pressed the boundaries often but not often enough,
then lost sight of everything because of other people's blindness
10306 you were revisited though not for long,
but re-damage you did.
Many have said one should never go back ,
but get over it you never know what would happen till you did.
10314 spawned a five-year party,
no regrets, no forgets,
back to school,
a smart spotty dottie.
10314 again was another first,
a house became a home,
first real one in years,
but no more alone.
07044 well you know,
I am never sure where that story will go.
I've managed to try and for 4 years make it stick,
But not without gallons and gallons of ick.
With brief batches of 718, 917 and 646,
One can almost be fooled that 973 might stick.
But one thing I've learned from all these first few,
Is to never let a zip code-ever define you.
14 February 2010
Stupid Cupid
So far my Valentines Day has been made up of: extra sleep, grading assignments in my pj's and contemplating where we might go for dinner--i'm not allowed to know till we get there. I really wonder about all of the hype that goes with Valentines Day. I mean, yes it's always nice to express your love for the person you call your Valentine; but what is it all really for? I have several friends who got engaged on that day: ok that is quite a good reason to celebrate. I also know someone who has a birthday that falls within a couple days of February 14th and always had red and white plates at their birthday celebration. I believe one year we even ate birthday cake from heart shaped bowls. It is a novelty, I get that part.
But what about those of us who have been through thirty something Valentines Days and other than chocolate, don't have a mind-blowing association for it. Me, I went to see The Wolfman last night, and today I slept in which I hardly get to do. Thats pretty much enough for me. Just to know I don't have to get up and leave the house before dawn (and it helps that tomorrow is also a holiday and therefore no work) or even shower till late afternoon if I don't want to--that's all I need. I'm totally good. The fact that we get to have a nice dinner out--bonus.
That's just me however. Apparently, people really do stuff like buy gold dipped roses and as I watched in horror yesterday, the news told me that people spend an average of $103 on Valentines gifts. Thinking about where the world is right now, and contemplating that the total would be in the billions if we added up all those $103's, I just have to wonder...
Of course the news also said that spending is down 5% from last year, but what would happen if we took all those $103's and send them to Haiti or New Orleans or Shorty's Rescue or Dogtown. Good things right? In fact, billions of dollars of good things would occur.
Ok I'll stop killing the spirit of the Hallmark Holiday. But you have to admit it's something to think about...isn't it? If all that cash spent on junk food that's bad for us, flowers that die, and...reassuring people we love that we didn't forget they were there? (Do we honestly think they forgot?) What does that say about our priorities? I'm really not worried about other people's priorities too much. However I will say that all I've learned through my thirtysomething Valentines Days is that I like sleeping in, prefer dark chocolate, and always overanalyze things.
But what about those of us who have been through thirty something Valentines Days and other than chocolate, don't have a mind-blowing association for it. Me, I went to see The Wolfman last night, and today I slept in which I hardly get to do. Thats pretty much enough for me. Just to know I don't have to get up and leave the house before dawn (and it helps that tomorrow is also a holiday and therefore no work) or even shower till late afternoon if I don't want to--that's all I need. I'm totally good. The fact that we get to have a nice dinner out--bonus.
That's just me however. Apparently, people really do stuff like buy gold dipped roses and as I watched in horror yesterday, the news told me that people spend an average of $103 on Valentines gifts. Thinking about where the world is right now, and contemplating that the total would be in the billions if we added up all those $103's, I just have to wonder...
Of course the news also said that spending is down 5% from last year, but what would happen if we took all those $103's and send them to Haiti or New Orleans or Shorty's Rescue or Dogtown. Good things right? In fact, billions of dollars of good things would occur.
Ok I'll stop killing the spirit of the Hallmark Holiday. But you have to admit it's something to think about...isn't it? If all that cash spent on junk food that's bad for us, flowers that die, and...reassuring people we love that we didn't forget they were there? (Do we honestly think they forgot?) What does that say about our priorities? I'm really not worried about other people's priorities too much. However I will say that all I've learned through my thirtysomething Valentines Days is that I like sleeping in, prefer dark chocolate, and always overanalyze things.
11 February 2010
Snow Days
It's really common for me to complain about all the negative things that occur in NJ. Its so easy to blame the garden state for it all. However, this is one week that I am not going to vent about it. Why the sudden change of heart you ask? Well for one thing I just had a snow day yesterday. And yes, I know, so did New York. But as I sat on my couch I realized one of the things that made me want to relocate in the first place...peace and quiet.
I can recall many snowstorms in New York. Make no mistake; it was always an instant recipe for fun. The beers would be chilled in the snow next to the porch. The tacky second hand living room furniture that seemed to live on the porch longer than we occupied our apartment would be filled with snowgazing friends. The balcony we had was the most fun because we would hide up there (2nd floor of course) and when our downstairs friends would appear, we would bombard them with showers of snow from above. It makes me grin widely to think about the friends we scared the hell out of with a shovelful or two. Somehow, we always managed to round everyone up before we got stuck too. Yes, there was the convenience of just living near your friends, but it was always a positive thing to be at our house when a blizzard struck.
Not only was it a reason to gather together, and reminisce about snow days of yesteryear, it was a guarantee that our bosses would not be at work either, the stores would not open, and we would not be expected to drive for at least 24 hours. That said, we would also forgo sleep, eat only delivered pizza and actually even barbecued on the snow covered porch if I recall correctly...damn near burnt the house down--but oh the fun we had! I can remember a particularly saucy old man that lived next door who was throwing snow over our fence as we quietly looked on from our 2nd story perch. When asked what he was doing he not only denied throwing the snow, saying "I was just moving my snow around in my own yard." But eventually realized we had seen him and said, "I didn't know you didn't want me to do that." It should be noted that this is the same man that told me I should not sit on the porch "because his friend's son was a vegetable." Nuff said.
In addition to all the outdoor stimulation, which included an igloo--constructed by we and our friends--and depicted on MySpaces all season; there was much ado about indoors during the snow as well. Perfectly acceptable to have an "in-house" on a Tuesday in a blizzard-and why not!? Nobody appreciates the knowledge that work is CLOSED better than we did. We would make the infamous pound of pasta salad, bake sordid brownies, and just get wrecked. Now I love my friends--did then, and do now. And you may think I am lacking an appreciation here, but I'm not. We lived it for around 10 years and I was never not having fun.
However, yesterday I was alone at home during the snow-well almost alone. I had my dog and a good book, DVR'd episodes of LOST to scrutinize, new bath salts and my favorite clove and cinnamon candles. I drew back the curtains, raised the blinds, and thought "Wow. It's so peaceful." That was a crazy thing for me to say given the amount of venting and bitching I do about living here. But for one day, the monstrous pounding of Rock Band with drums was silenced upstairs. The neighbors slept in, no alarm clocks were heard on my (brand new and much appreciated) day off. No one was yelling at their kids to hurry up and get ready for school. Even the 17 year old opera singer across the courtyard took a break. It was calm.
There are few occasions when I can really say that I am easily able to take a step back and see calm. Me and calm, we try to be close, but we lose touch in frequent bursts of insanity. We try to meet up at least once a week over a hot cup of cinnamon tea and a detoxifying face mask. But we don't always succeed. We want to, we really do. It's just that stuff gets in the way. Life gets in the way. Other people get in the way. Yesterday however, I played in the snow with my dog, took an extra long hottest of hot shower, and lounged calmly on the couch. Yesterday was a good day. It was terrible weather for travel, sure. No one was on the roads, and the roads themselves were barely plowed at all. It was, however, pretty and quiet, untouched and pure. Just like a snow day should be. It made me think: Hooray for snow days, and although I will always miss New York, and may even be moving back, but it is nice to know that here, calm is only a snowstorm away.
I can recall many snowstorms in New York. Make no mistake; it was always an instant recipe for fun. The beers would be chilled in the snow next to the porch. The tacky second hand living room furniture that seemed to live on the porch longer than we occupied our apartment would be filled with snowgazing friends. The balcony we had was the most fun because we would hide up there (2nd floor of course) and when our downstairs friends would appear, we would bombard them with showers of snow from above. It makes me grin widely to think about the friends we scared the hell out of with a shovelful or two. Somehow, we always managed to round everyone up before we got stuck too. Yes, there was the convenience of just living near your friends, but it was always a positive thing to be at our house when a blizzard struck.
Not only was it a reason to gather together, and reminisce about snow days of yesteryear, it was a guarantee that our bosses would not be at work either, the stores would not open, and we would not be expected to drive for at least 24 hours. That said, we would also forgo sleep, eat only delivered pizza and actually even barbecued on the snow covered porch if I recall correctly...damn near burnt the house down--but oh the fun we had! I can remember a particularly saucy old man that lived next door who was throwing snow over our fence as we quietly looked on from our 2nd story perch. When asked what he was doing he not only denied throwing the snow, saying "I was just moving my snow around in my own yard." But eventually realized we had seen him and said, "I didn't know you didn't want me to do that." It should be noted that this is the same man that told me I should not sit on the porch "because his friend's son was a vegetable." Nuff said.
In addition to all the outdoor stimulation, which included an igloo--constructed by we and our friends--and depicted on MySpaces all season; there was much ado about indoors during the snow as well. Perfectly acceptable to have an "in-house" on a Tuesday in a blizzard-and why not!? Nobody appreciates the knowledge that work is CLOSED better than we did. We would make the infamous pound of pasta salad, bake sordid brownies, and just get wrecked. Now I love my friends--did then, and do now. And you may think I am lacking an appreciation here, but I'm not. We lived it for around 10 years and I was never not having fun.
However, yesterday I was alone at home during the snow-well almost alone. I had my dog and a good book, DVR'd episodes of LOST to scrutinize, new bath salts and my favorite clove and cinnamon candles. I drew back the curtains, raised the blinds, and thought "Wow. It's so peaceful." That was a crazy thing for me to say given the amount of venting and bitching I do about living here. But for one day, the monstrous pounding of Rock Band with drums was silenced upstairs. The neighbors slept in, no alarm clocks were heard on my (brand new and much appreciated) day off. No one was yelling at their kids to hurry up and get ready for school. Even the 17 year old opera singer across the courtyard took a break. It was calm.
There are few occasions when I can really say that I am easily able to take a step back and see calm. Me and calm, we try to be close, but we lose touch in frequent bursts of insanity. We try to meet up at least once a week over a hot cup of cinnamon tea and a detoxifying face mask. But we don't always succeed. We want to, we really do. It's just that stuff gets in the way. Life gets in the way. Other people get in the way. Yesterday however, I played in the snow with my dog, took an extra long hottest of hot shower, and lounged calmly on the couch. Yesterday was a good day. It was terrible weather for travel, sure. No one was on the roads, and the roads themselves were barely plowed at all. It was, however, pretty and quiet, untouched and pure. Just like a snow day should be. It made me think: Hooray for snow days, and although I will always miss New York, and may even be moving back, but it is nice to know that here, calm is only a snowstorm away.
03 February 2010
Snowbody knows
Today I wake up to a few inches of snow on the ground, but not enough to cancel work for the day. Ok it's not so bad. Clean off the car drive to work get there on time...and only 3 students show up. Now this may seem typical, and for the next hour and a half, students trickle in, email me from blackberries and even peer in the window and then keep walking. Even this may not seem too far fetched if you've ever taught 18 to 25 year olds. However, as class wraps up and I think about fast forwarding the office hour I now need to spend answering the emails about weather and transportation sent earlier...a fire drill occurs. So we go out into the slushy Newark street and stand idly by, waiting for direction like cattle. Not only do I notice that the students keep on walking and many have no intention of returning to the building, or their classes; one student says (in front of myself and another staff member) "Fuck this I'm going home."
Now it would be enough if that was all that occurred. I would smirk and say in return, "Wow you set the best example for the rest of these kids! What was your name again?" as the student gurns in horror realizing we heard his comment...or responds "Fuck y'all too" which is even more likely. Yet, as I decide to circle the block while waiting for the doors to be reopened, a student--not mine thankfully--lights a blunt directly in front of me. My coworker turns and walks the other way.
I now debate the following: It's cold, my feet are wet, I don't even smoke cigarettes anymore, I'm getting too old for this shit, at this point there are exactly ten minutes of my office hour left, I've got a headache, I can see my parking space from here, I've got time for the gym after this...
So I walk to the car, pay my exhorbitant $7 parking fee for the day, attempt to back out, and see that there is a parallell parked car directly behind me which makes it necessary to do a 25 point turn to get out of the $7 space, finally get out, get cut off by a TRAIN and finally make it to the highway and decide: Fuck this I'm going home.
The reason this all struck me as being so ironic? I spend my life teaching young minds how to express themselves. I spend countless hours thinking about what we can do that is fun, that they really will be into, that will make a difference in their high tech lives. I share my own story of how it took me long to finish school, and it was always a struggle to put myself through college, work full time, deal with family bullshit, and attempt not to just say "Fuck this. I'm going home." At the end of the day we are all the same. Teacher, student, friend, opponant, whatever.Some times people have a short fuse. If they do not have a short fuse, they may have a medium one that takes longer, but rarely have I met the person with such a long fuse that we never see them ignite ... pun fully intended.
Knowing this made the day a bit funnier. Knowing this made the day minutely less stressful, and slightly less annoying to contemplate what to do tomorrow. Knowing this made me think about how we are all at the very least, human...usually.
Now it would be enough if that was all that occurred. I would smirk and say in return, "Wow you set the best example for the rest of these kids! What was your name again?" as the student gurns in horror realizing we heard his comment...or responds "Fuck y'all too" which is even more likely. Yet, as I decide to circle the block while waiting for the doors to be reopened, a student--not mine thankfully--lights a blunt directly in front of me. My coworker turns and walks the other way.
I now debate the following: It's cold, my feet are wet, I don't even smoke cigarettes anymore, I'm getting too old for this shit, at this point there are exactly ten minutes of my office hour left, I've got a headache, I can see my parking space from here, I've got time for the gym after this...
So I walk to the car, pay my exhorbitant $7 parking fee for the day, attempt to back out, and see that there is a parallell parked car directly behind me which makes it necessary to do a 25 point turn to get out of the $7 space, finally get out, get cut off by a TRAIN and finally make it to the highway and decide: Fuck this I'm going home.
The reason this all struck me as being so ironic? I spend my life teaching young minds how to express themselves. I spend countless hours thinking about what we can do that is fun, that they really will be into, that will make a difference in their high tech lives. I share my own story of how it took me long to finish school, and it was always a struggle to put myself through college, work full time, deal with family bullshit, and attempt not to just say "Fuck this. I'm going home." At the end of the day we are all the same. Teacher, student, friend, opponant, whatever.Some times people have a short fuse. If they do not have a short fuse, they may have a medium one that takes longer, but rarely have I met the person with such a long fuse that we never see them ignite ... pun fully intended.
Knowing this made the day a bit funnier. Knowing this made the day minutely less stressful, and slightly less annoying to contemplate what to do tomorrow. Knowing this made me think about how we are all at the very least, human...usually.
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