the interlude

I always find the time and space between Christmas and New Year's to be slightly awkward. Perhaps that's because I've always worked in education and I've never gone back to work in between the two holidays. and i was exhausted. Not sure. But it's truly a strange little piece of time that I don't always know exactly what to do with. Yes, i could use the time wisely and take down the tree and put away the decorations. And I could use the time to catch up on correspondence, errands, and cleaning closets. and i could call friends that i never have time to go out to lunch with and go out to lunch with them. i could even concievably go on a small trip.

but here's the thing. i just don't want to. do any of that. what i want to do is absolutely nothing and/or whatever occurs to me. which is mostly nothing. i'm pretty happy just pushing the pause button on all the year's activities and being a bit of a sloth.

how delightful it is to wake up on your own (not with an alarm.) and instead of getting up- pulling down a book from the shelf and reading for an hour before even considering rising out of bed. how delightful to reach into the fridge and get out and heat up some wonderful left overs. how nice to just have a cup of tea while pondering nothing much more than why that stupid poinsettia decided to up and start dying right after christmas for no apparent reason. how sweet to find some crazy old movies to watch on tv. how good to curl up in a blanket on the sofa even if you're not particularly cold or tired.

yes, i'm sure there are lots of people that would find all this tedious, boring, and befitting only really old people. i'm sure there are people out there who are diving in belize or skiing in vail. i'm sure there are people jogging or snow-shoing winter trails in national parks in preparation for the new year's marathon. but they are not me. and i have to say- that i'm kinda glad.

i rather like this awkward pause in life. and i hope nothing happens to interrupt it.

happy holidays

i'm not gonna lie. i haven't always enjoyed the holidays. rest assured, that i did this year. my family and so many of my friends did so many thoughtful things that helped to make it so. i'm very blessed.

but as i said, i haven't always been able to enjoy the holidays. you know- grief and heartbreak and all that. i vividly remember having a christmas meltdown in the dollar store one year because the christmas music and the people and the junk was all just too much for me. it was cacophony-defined. i remember dropping my stuff on the floor, running out of the door and sitting in my car in the parking lot for about and hour crying before going home instead of driving my car into a tree.

and i know i had a legion of people who were worried about me. and tried a great many things to make me feel better.

but i'll tell you what didn't make me feel better ever- and i'll tell you what ground salt into the wounds-

people telling me that time would heal.

people telling me that they understood.

people telling me that love would heal.

people telling me that someday i'd feel better.

people telling me that god was there.


and now i'll tell you what did help me feel better-

people just willing to sit with me without saying anything much at all.

people that invited me to things over and over even when i told them no over and over.

people that told me jokes.

people that told me stories.

people who did errands for me when i couldn't take going out.

people that didn't take it personally when i was grumpy with them.

people that sat and watched movies with me.

people that never let on they could see tears welling up in my eyes.

people that were not willing to let me be completely alone, but didn't expect anything from me when i went out with them.

people that didn't forget about me.

people who told me that they loved me and never worried about hearing it back.

all those things and people conspired to make me whole and well again.

and that's not to say, i can't still be bitter and angry sometimes. and that's not to say i can't be blue from time to time. and that's not to say i still don't fanticize about putting some evil people in a pot of boiling water and watching them try to climb all over each other to try to get out of the pot. (-: just kidding...

and the feelings are fairly momentary.

and for the most part every day, even during the holidays, i'm pretty happy these days. and the holidays this year were happy for me. i even played christmas carols on the piano. everything was great, really- except for the wicked sore throat.

what about it, virginia?

so - "it's comin on christmas, they're chopping down tree..."

i've been thinking a lot lately about the concept of santa claus. and how we purposely tell kids this unreal person is real. i started thinking about it because my daughter told me that my grandson asked her if she believed in santa claus. she confessed to me later that she wasn't sure if the way she'd answered him was the right way to answer. i thought she handled it quite well, better than i would have if i'd have been put on the spot. she said simply, "i want to."

that answer was good enough for him, i guess, as his belief remains solid even while i'm fairly certain that a number of his friends know the truth. and good for them for not telling him and also not making fun of him. but maybe no one at his age is sure enough really to be the spoiler for him- as it seems to be a major topic of conversation amongst them.

sometimes people equate the belief in santa to a person's belief in god. with the train of thought being that it's no more harmful to believe in santa than it is to believe in god. but here's the thing- people that believe in god generally really believe in god. for the most part when they are passing on their faith in god to their children, they really aren't trying to foist what they "know" to be a false belief. but with santa, truly what they are doing is lying. and you have to wonder if it isn't damaging to lie to children.

i kinda worry that he's going to be a bit heartbroken when he finds out. he seems like that kind of kid.

but here's the crazy part for me. i simply cannot remember when or how i discovered there was no santa. so i could not have been all that traumatized by it all, i guess. apparently, i wasn't an observant or pensive enough kid to wonder, "hey, why'd you lie to me?" i think it was way more disturbing to me when i'd hear my mother say one thing in public and another thing in private in her ladylike attempts to be socially polite. i accutely noticed that and it really did make me wonder if i could trust the things she said. so that kind of falsehood bothered me, but the passing off of a purely fictional character as real, didn't? i'm not sure why.

and i don't know of any of my peers who were traumatized by finding out the truth either. but i'm guessing that perhaps there are some kids, who when they find out, are pissed off. or sad. or hurt.

when my children were little, i supported the myth. and quite honestly, i can't remember the point where either of them realized the truth either. i'm pretty sure i didn't tell them. but i'm also pretty sure they weren't heartbroken by the news either. maybe i was unconscious at the time or something. who knows? but i wonder now that i'm older if i had a do-over if i would perpetuate the story.

i'm really not sure that i would. would that have made my children's childhoods less magical? not that their childhoods were all that magical. but i did love to read to them. and i loved encouraging their imaginations. but i'm just not sure you have to lie to a kid to stir his or her imagination.

and i guess if i'm wondering now if in this mixed up world if it's not better to instill trust in a child over a sense of magic.

and of course we all know the "yes, virginia story"- and for lots of grown-ups and some kids- that's soothing. but i really don't know if i even like that story very much anymore.

i don't have any great conclusions to my ponderings tonight. maybe i'm too tired. maybe my throat is too sore. maybe it's just too weighty a subject for my small brain.

things to live for.

i think i told you not long ago, that some friends and i went to see a psychic. well, one of my friends got told that her current boyfriend was "the one"- her soulmate. turns out not. they broke up. personally, i am glad. quite honestly, i didn't like the guy much. so i think she's better off. but ain't it sad? cuz this means that a. i'm not finding the man of my dreams before the new year. b. things aren't going to get better at work (not that they are that bad, really) and c. i'm not going to live an extremely long life.

but on that last one, i just think, "well, oh well."

but so this weekend, my mathematical genius grandson says to me, "you know, Grandma, i think you have about 25 good years left in you." he clearly meant this as a compliment. i struggled not to laugh and i struggled even harder not to ask him, "but how many bad years do you think i have left?" instead, i say to him, "well how old will i be when i die then if i live another 25 years?"

and in a flash, (seriously, less than a flash) he says "82." and i didn't even know he knew how old i was in the first place. let alone how the heck he can add in his head so fast. i'm not kidding, he was like lightning. really i think the kid's a genius when it comes to math.

anyway, so my grandson predicts i have 25 good years left. but i doubt he's psychic, i think he just was trying to say that i didn't act like an old grandma. which i try not to. and maybe he's sucking up to me because he knows Christmas is coming and that old grandmas like to give gifts and such. which is true- we do.

and then later in the weekend, when i went outside where he was bouncing on a trampoline to tell him i was leaving and heading home, he stops bouncing and he says, "oh. well, i'm going to try really hard not to cry, Grandma."

and i said, "well, no need to cry, in fact- i'm going to be back next weekend and i'll see you then."

"well, that's good, i can stand a week!" he says. and he hugs me and says, "bye Grandma, I love you."

back to the future

"one faces the future with one's past." so said Pearl S. Buck.

the latest facebook quiz i took was "How strong are you?" not physically strong- psychologically strong.

and here are my results: Your resiliency level is: supremely gifted. You are mentally unswerving. You are able to overcome difficult situations and remain cool, calm, and collected. It always amazes people from the outside, but you know how to control your emotions. You are always prepared to seek solutions and get back on track. You almost never let disappointments deter you from what you want -- instead, you stay focused and plan to be successful. The hardships you've faced in your life have been instrumental in developing this kind of amazing strength and perseverance within you.

and while i wouldn't say i plan these days to be successful as in accomplishing any great feat or getting rich, i do plan the best i know how to make sure i never have to live under a bridge or anything. and in general i think this description of me is pretty much true. didn't used to be. but now- i'm the strongest i've ever been in my life. i'm a pretty tough cookie these days, really.

i'd have traded some of this strength though for having a less complicated life. but what ya gonna do? you're who you are because of your past. and you face the future with your past.

and so i wouldn't want to tempt fate by saying, "bring it on" but i do guess i'll survive whatever disaster is coming next.

ghosts of

"Reflect on your present blessings on which every man has some, not on your past misfortunes on which all men have some." charles dickens

oh. there are those times, those moments- when your heart is full. such is right now for me.

i am truly blessed with the best family. with the best friends. with such riches and fortunes that you just have to cry out, as if there were a god, and say, "thank you for all that i have."

i LOVE my daughter. i LOVE my son in law!

i LOVE my son! i LOVE his wife! i LOVE my grandson!

i LOVE my mother!

i LOVE LOVE LOVE my friends.

i am the luckiest, most blessed person in the whole of the wide world.

yes, i have some bitter bitter things and hateful losses in my life. but all these things that i'm so grateful for chase those scary ghosts away.

i did my best; it wasn't much

But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah


those are lines from leonard cohen's hallelujah, of course. and what made me think of it was that i heard it on the radio tonight. the kd lang version and also an israeli singer's version.

but truly there is no version like leonard singing it himself.

this music with these lyrics and that voice- exquisite.

"Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah"

and i think it's a rare person who doesn't think this is one of the best song's ever. because it really is.

but here's the thing- of all the people i know in the world or have even met in the world- it's quite likely that i can count exactly 4 who have ever even heard of the song.

i suppose i know all the wrong people. i don't know. but it seems peculiar to me that there are few songs that speak so perfectly of being human, yet most the humans i know have never heard it.

and i suppose i'd ruin the song for myself if i ever read the critical interpretations of the lyrics. i'm sure they'd all probably say i have it all wrong- but here's what i think the song's about-

that life sucks and thank heavens or something else inexplicable for it.

that's how i see life anyway. that it sucks, but somehow i've again worked myself around to being awfully glad to be alive.

"I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"

Pieceful

here's something you didn't know about me.

it's that i love to do jigsaw puzzles.

yes, those old fashioned, boring, tedious, mind-numbing, addictive jigsaw puzzles.

and here's what's funny. i've always loved doing them, but i very seldom do them. i don't even think i had very many of them around when the kids were growing up. i guess because there never seemed like their was any leisure time back then.

But you'd have thought that when the kids dumped me for their own lives, i would have gone straight to the dollar store to pick up a bunch of them. and had one going at all times.

and you would have thought when the so-called great guy dumped me, i'd have gone on a puzzle bender.

but you know what? i didn't. once in awhile at christmas i'd get this old christmas one out. but that was mostly it.

and i don't know why. just never occurred to me, i guess.

but all the sudden about three weeks ago, i was walking past them at the target. and i thought, "hmm."

and so now i've got one going on my dining room table. and here's what it is. it's soothing.

it's soothing and settling. and calming. and cozy. and it's always waiting for me when i come back from where-ever i go. it's constant. but not in an annoying way.

and you know why, i think? because it's something you can concentrate on but it's not hard. and it's something that you know that you'll have success at. there's no time limit, no buzzers, no bells, no nail-biting moments, no anxious, nervous fears, and you know darn well in the end that you're going to win.

it's everything that the real world is not.

so here's what i think would be a great business. a puzzle pub/bar. where you could go and order a bottle of wine or beer if you can stomach the stuff and sit with strangers (and only strangers- you couldn't bring friends and if you did, they'd have to sit at other tables) and do puzzles together.

don't you think that sounds very cool? i'd go there everyday. right after work. of course somedays i'd drink tea or apple cider or ginger ale or something. because the main thing would be the puzzles.

i think if i started one of these bars, i'd call it "Pieces." Just so people could say, "i'm going to pieces."

lost in the stars

http://youtu.be/YUtlk1M3by0

And we're lost out here in the stars
big stars, little stars blowing through the night,
And we're lost out here in the stars
big stars, little stars blowing through the night
And we're lost out here in the stars.

always just an ordinary girl

i freely admit that at times I can be a complete ass. Sometimes I actually know I'm being an ass at the time and do it anyway. other times, well, i really don't realize it until later. sometimes, much later.

but even if i am an ass or can be an ass, the one thing i can say for myself is that usually I'm a reflective ass. i reconsider what i said. what i did. and what i should have said. or should have done. but sadly, sometimes my reflections are equally assy. and sometimes i come back around full circle and decide that i wasn't an ass after all. which probably makes me an even bigger ass.

yeah. i don't know. i suppose i'm really not much different than most people. regrets, we all have a few. but then again, too many to mention. (-:

so yeah, i've done and said a lot of stupid things in my day. things, that when i'm in a low mood, i could kick myself for. but when i'm in a high mood, i shrug off and say, "oh well."

and sometimes i self-congratulate myself on at least being an ass who realizes she's one. and i think that i'm "oh so much better" than the people who are too arrogant to realize how assy they are or were. but you know, i'm not. i know i'm not. and i know that thinking that i'm better than they are puts me in the running for coveted "biggest ass ever."

my x husband once told me that when drinking people are at their most true. that this is when they are really honestly themselves. who they really are. and say how they really feel inside.

and i have to tell you that i disagreed with him then and i still disagree with him now. in my eyes, a drinking you is just a small part of you. that the chemicals in your brain are mixing up your brain as well as overriding some better parts of your brain. or at least the inhibitory parts of your brain. you may think something like, "i truly hate that bitch and wish she'd die" but the truly honest part of you is really saying, "i don't like her, but i don't believe anyone should die because i don't like them. i just sincerely wish that she'd never lived."

i'm very shy. very. i truly find it very hard to talk to people in social settings. up and until i start to drink. and then there is a brief moment of time, when i'm uninhibited enough to be funny and social. but that's a very brief period that lapses into incoherent and ridiculous all too fast.

so who is me? the sober me? the just half a glass of wine me or the fully out of my mind me?

i don't think people who drink are more honest. i think they are more inclined to say outrageous things or think outrageous things. it goes something like this. you might be thinking, "gosh, i'd like to talk to that person, but i can't think of anything to say" so you stay quiet. then on first drink, you might find the courage to go say, "hey, i just heard what you said, and here's what i'm wondering...." 2nd drink might find you saying, "you know really, i think what you're saying is truly stupid, but i like you for other reasons. 3rd drink and it could go either way, either an angry encounter which you'd never have while sober or an "i love you, man" moment.

but you aren't really angry and you're not really in love. not when you wake up the next day.

i like to drink. i'm not going to lie. that first glass of wine makes me genuinely happy. usually the second one too. but after that, people should always cut me off. always. i no longer have any judgement left as to what should be said or what should be left unsaid or what should be said instead.

that explains a lot of emails and a lot of blogposts right there. no one was here to cut me off. (-: not that i blame anyone but myself.

but i'm digressing. this post is not about the evils of drink. that's just something that's more likely to bring out the ass in me. trust me. i can be an ass without touching a drop. a lazy, vindictive, hurtful, hapless ass. i can make bad decisions. say things I feel so inarticulately that you think i'm saying the opposite of what i'm trying to say.

but you know what? i can also be a really good person. i can be quite kind. quite empathetic (although rarely sympathetic.) i can be exceedingly generous. i can be creative. i can work really hard. i can have intelligent thoughts from time to time. i can be fiercely loyal. i care about a lot more things than you will ever know i do.
i understand a lot more than you've ever given me credit for. i try really hard. and i mean, really hard, to listen and understand people. i try even harder than that not to be selfish. or petty. or judgmental. i am actually an optimist. i do truly believe there is always the potential for things to be better. and for people to forgive. and for people to come to true understandings. i believe fully that a person should always strive to recognize a sincere apology when they hear one.

so who is me? who is me really? well, you've "seen them all and man, they're all the same." i'm just about like you, you know. just about like everyone.

and while i sincerely wish you wouldn't have judged me so harshly, and sincerely wish that you'd chosen to see all of me instead of just the ass part, i guess i can't say that i should have ever expected anything more from you or anyone. it's just sad that i did.

"But it's just the same hard candy
You're remembering again
You send your lover off to China
Then you wait for her to call
You put your girl up on a pedestal
Then you wait for her to fall
I put my summer's back in a letter
And I hide it from the world
All the regrets you can't forget
Are somehow pressed upon a picture
In the face of such an ordinary girl "

pick a card

so on sunday, some friends and i went to see a psychic/tarot card reader. oh me. and oh my. if all of what the psychic said comes true, i'm going to have quite the life from here on out.

we'll see if it all comes pans out. i will know by the first of the year as that is when the first thing is supposed to change, according to sunday's seer. and if i don't see the first proposed change by then, then we can probably deduce that psychic predictions are just so much hokum. so, i'll keep you posted.

i have to say that i did kind of get a kick out of it though. i especially got a kick out him telling me that he believed i had some psychic ability myself, that i had four angels about me at all time- two of whom were loved ones who had passed on and two of whom were stranger angels, and that it was quite clear that i am a natural, although reluctant, leader. (the last thing is something that every personality test i've ever taken concurs with. and that i can only be convinced to take the lead when i'm quite sure that everyone else will completely eff things up.)

anyway, he also said that i will live to be quite old. which i doubt. and that i'm a worrier (which is true) and that because of this, i'm unwilling to trust that things will work out or that people will do the right things. oh and one more thing. he said that he was quite quite sure that i was some kind of teacher. well, and how about that? that's what i was/sorta and am/sorta. he also said i'd have thyroid problems. which was wrong of course, because i already do have thyroid problems.

so who the heck knows? one thing i became quite convinced of while this guy was talking to me though, was that he truly believed himself to be psychic and that his visions were true. he did not really think that he was ripping me off for 15 bucks.

it wasn't the worst money i've ever spent though. it's provided me with much amusement.

as the world turns. on a dime.

i got my haircut today and bought a rug.

that's the short story. a longer story is that my hair cut is beyond adorable. maybe the best haircut i've ever had. and that my rug, i got at a low, low, low, low discount price.

a seriously good good day, i'd say.

an even longer story would be to tell you that i HATE long hair on women my age. i HATE it. i don't care how nice of hair it is or whether your husband or boyfriend likes it, it smacks of "i can't accept that i'm older." and it makes you look older, whether you know it or not. or whether it does or not, because it just looks like you can't accept who you are. and that's just ugly. anyway, over the summer, my hair just plain got too long. it went from good to dragging my face down. so even while everytime i get my hair cut it makes me nervous, i went today. because i couldn't stand it anymore. and since i hate planning ahead, i went to the cheap walk in places and took my chances.

oh anyway, the point is- my hair cut looks both cute and rather sexy. (i feel fine saying that because once i had the ugliest haircut ever.) anyway, later today I tried on a dress, heels, jewelry that i plan on wearing to a rather important event next week. and while i probably won't photograph well, because i usually don't, i can tell you that in person, i'm going to look good.

and it makes me laugh. because my haircut was 13 bucks and i kid you not, my dress which is super nice was all of 9.99. really. i'm telling you- it cost me 9 dollars and 99 cents. crazy crazy deal from last spring. so ok, my shoes were more. but i bought them some 10 years ago, so they don't count. so for all of less than 25 bucks, because i need to buy a new pair of pantyhose, i'm going to look like a million. that makes me happy.

and then my rug. this hallway runner rug was $229 dollars. and it wound up costing me 28 bucks. SCORE! don't even ask me how i finagled that. because to tell the truth, i'm not even sure i understood how it happened. but my home is brightened up for next to nothing. seriously, i've walked on it all evening just for the sake of walking on it and looking at it.

so you wonder why i go on about this and why more important things aren't on my mind? well, the truth is that many more important things are on my mind. that i was thrilled about the nobel peace prize awards. tthat education issues in my state are at a critical point with midterm elections are coming up. that i'm struggling with trying to be the bigger and more kind person with a long time friend, even while it hurts my feelings a bit. and brings up bad memories of other things.

yeah. there's all that, that is so much more important. but you know? sometimes i just need to be delighted by things to keep the world turning for me. and i have to tell you that being able to pull off things that look good on a poverty budget makes me happy as all heck.

Vehicle of novelists and poets

do you know what's delightful?

riding your bike to work.

i mention this because it is. delightful.

after years and years of driving, driving, driving, driving from school to school to school to school- you know what i do now? i get up, get dressed, and ride my bike to work to work. and just stay there. until i ride my bike home again.

it's really, as i said, delightful.

i'm going to be sad when it gets too cold for that.

but i'm riding for as long as i can. i even bought a little hat and some sporty warm gloves so as to extend my rides into the late fall and early winter.

"The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets." ~ Christopher Morley

because i'm happy

so in the last two weeks, i've been accused. of being happy.

and well, i just don't know how i feel about that.

ha. because well, i really wouldn't self-identify as happy.

i will say though- that i'm much happier than i once was.

and i will say that i know why i'm happier. because i like being only semi-employed. because i like living here in the bigger city over the small town that felt like death to me. because i feel that my children are both in good places in their lives. because i don't have worries on my mind 24/7. because while i'm teetering on the edge of poverty, i have enough.

so can i say that i'm as happy as i've ever been? no, i once was happier. but i can say that i am happier than i was for awhile.

so i guess it's all relative. but it's all a matter of perception too, i guess. apparently, however i feel inside, i appear to others as being a happy person.

somebody should clap their hands, i guess.

the best you can

my memory is going. which is not all bad. somethings would be good to forget, no?

but i heard this song- "Humidity Built the Snowman" tonight, and i marveled that i'd completely forgotten about it because it's long been one of my favorite songs.

so here are the best lines.


I don't think that you know
That I think you don't know
That old barometer goes crazy baby
Every time it starts to snow
You won't find me walking
Round your part of town
Humidity built the snowman
Sunshine brought him down
The scientific nature of the ordinary man
Is to go on out and do the best you can

looking forward to saturday

Some humans ain't human
Some people ain't kind
They lie through their teeth
With their head up their behind
You open up their hearts
And here's what you'll find
Some humans ain't human
Some people ain't kind


john prine.

an honor

so i told you how my former student died. and that i went to the funeral.

and i was telling a friend about it this weekend. she had asked me how the funeral was. and i told her that yeah, it was a good service. but you know- it was a service. for a kid. or young adult rather. who meant a lot to me.

my friend pressed me for more. she asked me if i was glad i went to the service. which i thought was an odd question. but i guess she was wondering if the service had helped me. and well, i don't know if it helped me or not. i was thinking of it more as something to just get through intact. and here i am, intact, so far. so i didn't know what to say. so i said, "well, yeah, i guess so. i mean i was mentioned in the service. would have been super awkward if i hadn't been there."

and she said, "you WERE? that's really special." i said, "i guess." and she seemed incredulous at my answer, so then she asked, so did they mention all the staff? and i said, "yeah, no, just me and the superintendent the first year she came to school because he allowed the new program."

and she said, "wow."

and i guess after she said that i started thinking about it more. i mean, i guess that's a real honor. of the literally hundreds of staff members who this girl had through her 13 years of school, only the superintendent, who practically turned a whole school upside down to bring this girl into that school, and i were mentioned. i had meant enough to the family to have me mentioned to the minister who mentioned me to the minister. that really is an honor that i suppose most people will never have.

and i really don't know that i deserve the honor, but i guess i'll take it. because you know, sometimes i'm really sorry that i chose the career i did. i don't feel sometimes like i made a difference or maybe it's that i think i could have made a bigger difference if perhaps i'd gone into public policy or science or medicine or something.

but then again, i guess that back when i was deciding what to be, i more or less fell into it and didn't give it lots of thought. i mean, i wasn't consciously thinking i needed or wanted to make a difference. i just wanted a job so i could eat and stuff. that was all. and it seemed like i'd be able to do it.

what i didn't know. and i don't think anyone ever knows until they go into it, how hard it is. how it would kick your ass most days. what i didn't know was that it was a field fraught with emotional pitfalls. and sweat and tears.

but here i am i guess. on the other side of it. and i guess that i'm glad that it's over. but i guess i'm also glad that someone thought i made a difference before i quit. that really is an honor.

Here i go again

i know, just a post or two back, i was lamenting that the world was too serious these days. and here i am back already about to type up my thoughts on something serious. here i go again. arggg. does it help that the phrase "here i go again" is inextricably linked with the OK Go video?

yeah, probably not. but i'm proceeding anyway.

yesterday i went to a neighborhood block party. not my own neighborhood but that of some friends, who in fact, generously let me live with them for a month when i first moved here until my apartment was ready. so, while it wasn't my neighborhood, i actually knew a great many of the neighbors. and one of them is a spanish teacher in a catholic school. and it all began with my innocent question: how's your school year starting out?"

and her answering with a great deal of enthusiasm, that her year was starting great. best schedule ever. best students ever. best everything ever. and then she said, "of course, there was the suicide."

like i'd heard all about this suicide. i hadn't. i said, "oh, how sad, a student?" and she proceeded to answer in the affirmative, a senior. good kid. great family. no known problems. just up and decided along-about thursday night to kill himself.

so at the patio table with us were two older retired people. one who was clearly suffering dementia. and another who was clearly a retired teacher. (you can tell these people, i think a mile away by how they ask questions and cock their heads and endeavor to understand.)

so the retired teacher says, "really, no indications of problems, beforehand?

"welll....." the catholic spanish teacher continued, "i guess there was the trouble he got into last year with drugs and then him being suspended the first day of class for failing a drug test."

and we all lean in. even the woman riddled with dementia perked up at this. and i say, "so it seems he did have some problems, then?"

and the happy (yet sad) little catholic spanish teacher went on to explain how the school had changed it's drug testing policy this year, that not only would drug tests happen randomly, that if there was a suspicion of drug use, they could drug test. and that on the very first day of school, the suspicious ones flagged the suicide-bound kid to be drug tested. on the very first day of school. and he'd had alcohol, pot, and something else (i forget now) in his system. on the very first day of school. so the drug test was apparently the schools way of asking for a report on "what did you do during your summer vacation?"

so the kid failed the drug test. and he was immediately suspended. (so as to isolate him and punish him, apparently) and according to the happy/sad catholic spanish teacher, his parents went on tto do all the right things, got him into counseling. signed him up for a rehab stint. which was to begin, when? the day following his suicide.

at this point the all of us are bug eyed. because it's clearly obvious, that the kid just couldn't bear the thought of going to rehab. but it's also clearly obvious, that happy/sad catholic spanish teacher doesn't make this connection.

she goes on to say, how God will help the family and the school community heal from this. and that they (the school ) are keeping special watch on the suicide kid's 3 younger brothers. and how the kid's grandpa had also been a suicide way back when, and how it was the kid's father who found both the kid and his father. and how much more wat this poor guy going to have to take and how they were all rallying around the father.

and i'm just sitting there wondering if perhaps the father feels any anger about the school's drug policy rather pushing this kid into his actions.

but i don't ask. the retired teacher doesn't ask. the lady with dementia doesn't ask. we all just agree that it's a terrible shame. that drugs are bad. that depression is bad. that community is good. and everyone (except me) agrees that God is good and that he will right things. or give them the power and strength to right things.

me? what i am i thinking? i'm thinking how much better it would have been if the parents had just been quietly told that it was suspected that their son was using drugs again. or if the school hadn't suspended him, isolating him from any good influences he might find there. how much better it would have been if they were getting him into a rehab center, they could have done so right away before the kid had time to think about it. (and yes, i realize there's a waiting list.) but if they couldn't get him into somewhere right away, that they perhaps could have anticipated (or perhaps a mental health professional could have insisted they anticipate) that this might be a trigger for the kid to do something drastic. even if not suicide, perhaps running away?

and i'm angry, because i'm sorry. the school fucked up with it's ridiculous drug testing and suspension policies. the mental health professionals fucked up because they either failed to warn the parents of this drastic possibility or they didn't even see it. i mean, had they done any due diligence to find out about the grandfather or any other indications of mental health problems in the family? had they sought ought or gotten any information about the kids' former problems? were they asleep at the wheel, what?

and i'm also angry that when i first asked the happy sad catholic spanish teacher, how her year was going that she didn't lead off with, "well, it's been rather disturbing..."

really? you lead with that it's a great year??? i find that disturbing as all hell. and i find little confidence in a god that puts people like this in his parochial schools. i can't really see how a staff like that or a community like that is going to help the next kid. it certainly didn't help this kid. that's for sure.

and i'm thinking, "there are none so blind as those who are ignorantly blind to everything around them."

yeah, i know. here i go. here i go, again.

i'm confused

many (and i do mean many) time in my life, i've been complimented on being flexible and conscilliatory. and taht's nice. but on occassion (although few) i've been accused of being set in my ways and stubborn.

well, it's all relative, i guess. or in the eye of the beholder. or it's that for the most part i'm flexible but on certain ocassions, i'm stubborn and i hold my ground. but wow, isn't it my right as a human being to be set on some things? don't i get that luxury or privilege or am i just supposed to be a wall daisy?

so what am i rigid about?

let's see-
that we should have equity for all people, regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, religion etc

that people should really listen to each other and try to work things out rather than dumping and running.

that companies should not be allowed to dump communities. if a community has allowed you a start in business, you should not run off somewhere else and dump that community.

that healthcare should be universal and affordable.

that jobs should pay living wages.

that education should be based on real research and not on market-driven whims and politics.

that no religion is the RIGHT religion.

that we should not use violence against each other.

that guns are absolutely unneccessary for people to own.

that it's in our interests to treat animals kindly.

that there should be much more research work towards substance addiction issues.

that mental health issues are community issues.

that free market capitalism might just be the root of all evil

that abusive people should be locked up yet supervised and not left to rot.

that birth control should be free and available at every corner.

that all people of consenting age should be allowed to marry. but that divorce should be easier.

that children should be loved liberally but raised not to expect the world laid at their feet or that the world is their oyster.

so this list is getting long. perhaps i am inflexible.

joke dejour

Ham and Eggs. A day's work for a chicken. A lifetime committment for a pig.

yeah, so i'm not vegan or a vegatarian.

i just thought that joke was funny.

you see, i decided the world has become entirely too serious. so the change is going to start with me. and this joke. please enjoy it.

the rug out from under

i've heard grief described many ways. i've also described grief in many ways of my own. but perhaps one of the most fitting is that of having the rug pulled out from under you.

in that, a loss can make you feel as if this has happened. or maybe even more descriptive is that of having the entire floor disappear. and you're trying desperately to find something to stand on. you're flailing and grasping, trying to make yourself cling on to the walls around you.

this vividly came home to me today as i returned from out of town where i attended a funeral. of someone who i truly cared about. and i'd more or less forgotten that i'd scheduled my carpets to be cleaned today. i mean, i hadn't totally forgotten. sunday morning before i left, i'd moved around furniture and stacked things up so as to make sure the most trafficked parts of the rugs were available. i'd had that much foresight. but then i kinda sorta forgot about it all as i got involved in the funeral and grief events.

i drove home here. and all i kept thinking on the way was how i just wanted to get home. get my bearings. steady myself before i went into work tonight. seeing the body, talking to the parents and talking to old friends and acquaintences was much more trying that i'd even antipated. the drive home was long. and i just wanted to come in and sit down.

but i couldn't. i turned the key to my apartment and i could smell the cleaner. and opening the door, i remembered, "oh yeah." and the rugs were still damp. furniture still stacked in the corners of the room. the kitchen floor and my bed piled high with stuff that is usually in familiar, calming, well-thought out places.

and so i'm disturbed. literally LITERALLY, the rug has been pulled out from under me. i want to put my suitcase away. i have to go to the bathroom. i remove my shoes so as to track the least amount of dirt in on the freshly cleaned carpet. i walk in straddled fashion down the hallway, so as not to hit the high traffic areas. i brace myself on walls. tipping unsteadily on my tiptoes. i can't get footing. nothing feels solid. nothing feels steady. nothing feels comforting.

so i take care of my business and i leave. i go out to get gas. i go out for a late lunch. i go to the library to pick up a book i have on hold. and i feel like a refugee.

so i come on home again. and i perform the same acrobatics to pick up my ipad and toddle out to the unaffected patio. where i sit writing this quickly before i head downtown to the center. where they'll ask me, "xxxxx, why are you so dressed up?" and i'll have to answer. and they'll express their sympathy.

and i'll lean on them. those who have no idea of my past life where i had the rug pulled out from under me too many times. i'll lean on them, simply, because they are there to lean on. and i'll go on with my work. probably still feeling a bit unmoored. but gradually, i'll be ok. and maybe when i get home, i can shove things back into their proper places.

the father told me today of the first time they met me. they (he and his wife) came in with stacks of information for their first IEP meeting. he said, he wondered how it would go, knowing his wife was on edge in this new territory of school. wondering how we'd take this big stack of demands, concerns, anxieties, questions that they had in their hearts and in their hands. feeling as if they were strangers in a strange land. that might be hostile. and he said, they produced their large stack of notes and asked, "how do we start?" and that i replied, "well, how about we start with this (indicating their notes of concern) and work from there?" he said, "no one, could have said anything better."
he said, he'd never forgotten it. how i made them feel anchored. and not alone.

and i guess i compare it a bit with having the rug pulled out from under you, like this. and i advise anyone who is trying to help, comfort, understand someone who is grieving- who may be anxious, not happy, worried, agitated, maybe even grouchy or angry etc. that all they really need from you is some certainty. some bearing. a solid floor beneath them. even if they can't express it to you, that's what they need. be the solid floor beneath them and help them stand. they are not grasping at you to be aggravating. they are not trying to demand more of you than you can give. they simply want some stability. some security. some reassurance. and that is all.

wondering sadly

when someone i know dies- it steps up my desire to know exactly what happens to people when they die. and since a lot of the people i've known who have died have been children with severe physical disabilities, i've especially wanted to make sense of death. i just have a lot of trouble with children dying. it always feels like a slap in the face. at the very least. and well, i also had a lot of trouble with my x sister in law's death. because she left two small children. it broke my heart for them. but also, selfishly, i had no clue how much i'd miss her personally. she'd been such a support for me. that i didn't deserve.

oh but anyway. i think about what happens when you die a lot.

so my ex student died this morning. she was no longer a child. she was 29 years old. and although you're not supposed to have favorites, i did. and she was one of them. she was one of my favorites because often she was grumpy. i liked that about her. that she wasn't always pleased. not that she couldn't enjoy things and didn't. she did. she had things and people that made her happy. but she wasn't one to hide her displeasure if she was displeased. and well, i liked that honesty. and to me it showed a lot of awareness of the world around her, which a lot of people were not always convinced that she had. she was non-verbal. losing her speech to something called rett's syndrome. and it was frustrating because she also lost a lot of her motor skills, so finding a way to communicate with her was quite a trick. so people thought she'd lost her intellect as well. i stand not convinced of that at all.

because if you were quick, you could watch her eyes flash. and oh how they flashed. angry as all hell when she was angry. sparkling if she was happy. and if you were patient and you waited long enough, (and i'm talking like 5 full minutes or so) sometimes she could make a part of her body move to indicate something. rarely did anyone give her the time. except her family. they were awesome. and except some few educators she knew. but most wrote her off as being cognitively impaired.

anyway, of course it's very tempting to believe as her parents devoutly do, that she is now in heaven and that she is free from the limits of her body. me, i don't have that faith. it would be nice to see such a cool soul go to heaven, i think. but i don't know that i believe it.

on the other hand, often i'm quite afraid that people who die have supernatural powers of knowing how you really feel or how you mess up. i mean, i'm not very often a good person. it's not that i don't try sometimes, but even when i do try, i'm often intensely anxious and uncomfortable. a for instance, i'll work all day and smile and i'm patient with people. but inside, i'm thinking, "seriously, are you that stupid?" and i can't wait to get home, slack off and have a glass of wine. to this day, i'd rather drink a glass of wine and smoke a cigarette more than anything in this world. world peace or a cigarette and a glass of wine? i'm pretty sure i'd pick the latter. that's the kind of sick person i am. i'm critical, i'm judgmental, i'm lazy, i get frustrated. i'm sometimes less than honest. and i can hide all that from the living. but it creeps me out that possibly, i can't hide all that from the dead.
i can't hide that i'm selfish. that i'm not perfect. that i sometimes don't have a good heart. that i literally hate a few people in this world and if it were up to me, they'd die in a fiery crash and burn in a hell.

so i mentioned that this girl's parents were awesome. and they were. and kind. and smart as hell and they kept abreast of everything and anything that could help their daughter. possibly the best parents of any child i ever had. they also were very trying. i can remember often working all day coming home, dealing with home stuff all evening, finally getting around to preparing for the next day, when i'd get a phone call from the mother, telling me how upset they were about some teacher's actions or that something hadn't been done. and she'd want me to fix whatever was wrong. and i was exhausted. and i'd invariably say, "certainly, i'll take care of it." with lots of time either no idea of how to fix it or sick to my stomach about having to go confront the person involved the next day on top of the billion other things i had to do. and i'll admit it, i was often very angry inside at this mother. not that i should have been, but sometimes it was just all too much stuff being dumped on my plate.

and now, if the dead are omniscient, this x student of mine is going to know. how i was angry a lot of the time. and wow, i don't want her to know that. i don't want her to know that i'm not (and wasn't) all that.

so what do you think? do you think there is an afterlife? do you think the dead are omniscient? do you think that that there is nothing? do you wish there was nothing? do you wish there was something but that it's not like you're going to have to deal with all the people you knew in this life, but that you get a do-over of some kind?

oh anyway. what i really mean to say is that i'm rather sad tonight. this girl really was one of my very favorites. i don't really have anyone's shoulder to cry on. and so i'm selfishly sad for myself, when i should be thinking about her parents and siblings who are likely soul-sick right now. i'll try to pull it together before the viewing on sunday. and hide all my selfishness from all the living who don't read this blog.

don't stand downwind

my favorite line of the day was, "You have deliberately and ambitiously made this country a worse place."

LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS. LOVED THIS!!!!!!!

BAM! The quote came from a column about the infamous school deformer, Michelle Rhee, leaving the education world (alone) for the miracle gro company. and i share the writer's sentiments of "don't let the xxxxing door hit you.."

i sincerely despise this woman. this charlatan. this fake. this phony. and please excuse me while i say, "this bitch."

and i'm sure she'll be very very happy where she's going because there they say things like, "“Michelle is an innovator, a change agent and has clearly helped shape the national dialogue in her field,” said Jim Hagedorn, chairman and chief executive officer. “We look forward to her bringing a unique perspective to our Board that will help shape our thinking and make Scotts a stronger and smarter company as we look to the future.”

an innovator. a change agent. shape the dialogue. unique perspective. shape our thinking. stronger and smarter. as we look to the future.

seriously, first of all, who writes this kinda crap? do they send all ceo's to "how to write meaningless tripe" school? and second. oh my gosh. how the hell does this piece of shit woman (and other's like her) keep getting jobs?

all i can tell you is that i will never buy another miracle gro product as long as i live now. and if you didn't before, you definitely don't want to stand downwind of this company now.

just like everyone else.

so just like everyone else in the world, today i'm going to talk about the suicide of robin williams.

but just like no one else in the world, i'm going to start by telling you that i really didn't care for his comedy very much. too manic. too panicked. too something.

i liked him in "good will hunting." i will say that. but other than that, in his comedy, i just didn't care for him. that's ok though. not everyone has to like everything that everyone else does.

i will say that i'm terribly sad for his family. suicide leaves a big hole for a family. and for the friends. of the person who takes his/her own life. i know that a person contemplating suicide can talk him or herself right out of that reality, because the pain is so unrelentingly intense. but the truth really is that a suicide leaves a big wrenching permanent hole in the lives of people who care about you.

now, unlike robin williams, i do believe there are the eleanor rigbys of this world. people who nobody cares about at all. please don't lie and say, "there's no such person." because there are, and i've met them. please don't say that "but jesus loves them" stuff either. jesus is just not a real concrete character. and a person contemplating needs a real concrete character to help them through. anyway, i do believe there are people in the world that do not have anybody. at all. and that's very sad. i'd like to utter the platitude of "be kind to everyone, you don't know what they are going through." but even that really isn't enough. yes, sometimes a kind word or a smile to a stranger at the right moment can be enough to talk a person off their ledge. but also, sometimes, that's really not enough. they need someone to really care that they are there in the next moment. really care, as in willing to sit with them through that next moment and the next one and the next one. and the next one. and then doesn't just ditch them when the danger seems to have passed.

and as i said, i do believe there literally are people who don't have that person. any person in their life like that. and that's sad. i wish i could say i knew what to do about that, but honestly, i don't.

robin williams was not one of those people though. he had people. he had his family. he had friends. he had legions of fans. but somehow no one was there at that exact moment. and even if they were around, they didn't realize somehow, the true depth of his struggles. obviously he was capable of some pretty great disguises. perhaps part of his pain was that no one could see through those disguises. everyone believed them. even the people he hoped could see through them.

so how do you save a robin williams? perhaps the truth of it is that you can't. i've always believed that the only way to stop a suicide is understand that the pain they are feeling about something is bigger than any kind of pain you have ever felt in your life. and that it feels unrelenting and without an end. and that the only thing you can possibly say if you happen to be with them in that moment and you do happen to realize how much pain they are in is that you will not leave them. that you won't ever desert them. ever.

and they won't believe you but the proof is in you staying. in them knowing that you are there always. always. always.

don't say, "things will get better." because you don't know that, and that will ring as a bigger lie than "the check is in the mail" to them. don't say, "i've hurt too." because chances are you have never hurt like they are hurting and they know it. don't say, "you're selfish." or "you have so much to live for." they won't believe you.

all they know is that they are in pain. horrible pain. like if their hand were in a pot of boiling water. the only thing they know they want is their hand out of the pot. they can't see, feel, or think beyond that.

so you have to see, feel, think- for them. you have to tell them you are there. that you will be there. that you will always be there. that's the only thing that might register.

the thing is that most everyone thinks that they'll never contemplate suicide. most everyone thinks only crazies or the weak follow through and the ones who tell you they think about it are just fakers wanting attention. no one ever thinks they are just like everyone else. in that when the pain is too great, you'll do anything to make it stop.

i feel very blessed. that there was a person who understood all this at a time in my life when the pain was too great. i feel very blessed that since that time, there have been people in my life that make me know every single day of my life that i am needed and wanted. and that they'd never leave me.

because i know that i'm just like everyone else, in that there will be things that hurt me again. that there might be times again when i can't see past the pain again. but i also know now that i will never be left alone with that pain. that people will recognize it even if i wear a disguise.

dream a little dream

my advice to the young and old, and especially myself

actually, this would have been my dad's advice. but always late to the party, i'm just now fully realizing it.

the advice? lighten up. enjoy what there is to enjoy. quit bitching and worrying about the things that are wrong. and be joyous about the things that are right.

and that doesn't mean you don't need to fix things that are broken. or that you should ignore and walk away from people who need you. or that you can't work on making things better. or that you can't be sad. or even at times, impatient and irritable. or angry. this is not hakuna matata.

but it does mean that you can focus your inner-most thoughts on the good things, the better part of the time.

if you have a husband who loves you, be glad of it. don't constantly obsess on that he's not perfect in so many ways. he tries.

if you have a family who stands by you, be grateful for that. don't constantly bemoan that they have shortcomings and have made mistakes. or that they have the most annoying idiosyncrasies and bad habits.

if you have a world around you that offers you laughter and cheeseburgers and pie for dessert, don't zero-in on your lack of a five course meal.

if you have rain, be glad that you have an umbrella.

if you drop the ball, pick it up, throw it back, and try to catch the next one.

if you have snow, be glad that you have a snow shovel and an unbroken back.

if someone shows you a bug or a slimy snake, don't run away and scream, overcome your fear and touch it. (except for turtles, if someone shows you a turtle, run. like the wind.)

if you have a house to live in and food to eat, a job and transportation to get you where you're going, don't look down on people who don't. even if they are smoking a cigarette.

if you have people who have hurt you to the core, don't retaliate or dwell on it, maybe someday, they'll say they are sorry. or maybe not. but if they never do, realize that's got nothing to do with you and the kind of person you are. and it has everything to do with the kind of person they are. but even so, just be glad that you are not them and don't hate them for it. hate changes nothing for the better.

if someone throws out an insult to you, smile and take it. know that you are not what they say.


but most of all, if the sun is shining and you have a glass of punch in your hand, drink it up.

Drop another coin in the slot

...and i'll tell you more.

i can't help myself. i'm very drawn to silly things like tarot cards and fortune telling. intellectually, i know that all such spiritual things, really all spiritual things, are so much hokum. i do. i'm not an idiot, really. but just the same, i'm drawn to them.

i keep fortune cookie slips. visit me someday and i'll show you at least half a dozen that have never come true. i've gone to psychics, supposedly for fun, with girl friends, and i secretly wish that they were real. when i'm really bored late at night, i'll consult the online fortune tellers. (but only the free ones) hoping for some good news. some glimpse at the future that will make me happy rather than sad.

so, it's no wonder that when my son's family and i visited an arcade to play games with the grandson, while on vacation, i gravitated towards the fortune teller machine in the arcade (rather like the one in the movie, big) and i begged a quarter off my son to get my fortune. (i happened to have no quarters of my own at the moment.)

and these are "Grandmother's Prophesies"

LOVE

Oh Speed on, speed on my little dove
Carry a message to the one I love
Tho a cruel fate has us two parted
I know that the future has in store
Greater happiness for ever more.

When that long awaited letter finally comes, no words will be able to describe the joy that will be yours. Since you are so clever in so many ways, you have learned to make the best of things. Your life as a result is not spoiled by the curse of boredome. (that's how grandmother spelled it.) You are fond of gay music, and like to dance. You are an impulsive person, given to exclaim in ecstasy if things please you.

Drop another Coin in slot and I will tell you more.

Well, and I had no other coin to drop in the slot, having had to bum the first one. so who knows what malarkey old grandmother would tell me next. for a brief moment, i contemplated asking my son for another quarter, but embarrassment, plus the desire to watch the grandchild play his games, held me back. so i stuffed the card in my pocket and walked away from grandmother. laughing at myself for being so silly.

and then i forgot all about it. until tonight, i reach in the pocket of my jeans and there the stupid thing is. an i think, "if ONLY, i'd had another quarter to drop in the slot." (-:

but then i think that it's just as well, there is really no sense in believing in anything spiritual. all of it just elevates your hopes falsely. and you have to come crashing back down to earth again. and realize you live in a real and concrete world, that simply plods along with no rhyme or reason, good fortune and bad, intermingled for no real reasons whatsoever. there's no fate. there's no fairy tale happy ever after.

there's only just some old grandmother wanting you to drop another quarter in the slot.

no good deeds

i volunteered my time tonight to help a co-worker learn our new system. and i realize that people just plain hate change. and that i was the messenger of that change. but i was very taken aback by how not very nice to me that she was.

but in my head, i kept regrouping, and i'd smile and try again to help her understand how to do things and patiently answer her rather hostile-toned questions. i tried really hard to understand that when i would furrow my brow to think, she thought i was frowning at her. so i'd smile more. i praised her whenever she did things right and tried to very gently steer her when she didn't.

but still she was nasty.

anyway, the night went on and on. and never really got any better. i felt completely defeated. and so then one of our other co-workers who'd been listening pulled me aside and told me not to take it personally, that this woman was always negative. and that she was being really rude, considering all i was doing was trying to help her. on my own time, to boot.

so that made me feel better.

but you know? it might be awhile before i try to be helpful again. i don't really like being punished for my good deeds.

but the other thing the experience taught me is that i will try really hard not to be negative to other people when they are trying to help me.

role reversal

so, i sent my friend a short note telling her that i'd been to visit one of my former students before she died. this student is now a young adult and she and her family have struggled with her health issues all her life, but most intensely in the last year or so. and now, she's been sent home to die. and her mother had me contacted to let me know and i asked for the privilege of intruding on their intensely personal family time to come visit with her.

her home health care nurse (and my friend) called me on Thursday morning and woke me up to tell me that when they'd asked my student if she wanted me to visit, that she'd burst into smiles and indicated with her limited motor ability, "yes!" she'd like me to come. (later they showed me the pics of this moment.)

so, after work Thursday morning, i set out to drive back up north and go visit with her. and it was the most bittersweet of visits. she and her family were clearly glad to see me, and we sat out in the warm sunshine of their backyard, reminiscing about the good old days. Catching up on the new days. we spoke of the immediate days to come. the mother shared that they felt blessed to have these last days to say good bye. she reminded me how cruel it had been for the family of another one of my students, who died in surgery. suddenly, shockingly. with no warning. this grieving mother said, "so, this is so much better."

i didn't want to stay too long. she was clearly fatiqued. her eye lids, at intervals, slowing shutting, then shuttering open to allow her quick looks around at all of us who'd gathered, then slowly shutting again. her skin was cold, not cool, to the touch, even in the warmth of the sun. and the smiles. the peaceful, sweet smiles, in between. they are a vision, i won't likely ever forget. i close my eyes now and i can see those smiles as clearly as if i was still there. there she was, making dying look easy. dreamy. peaceful. and the calm emanating from her had a magical effect on all of us. we became calm too.

but sad. so very sad. and so when i got home late last night, i wrote my friend and told her that i'd visited with my student. to see her one last time. i told her how sweet the visit was. she answered. "i hope you won't go to the funeral. you need to have good memories of at least one of your students."

and she's referring to the fact, that i worked with the most medically fragile of our school population. A great many of my students, lost their battles and struggles to live over the course of my career. you'd think i'd be used to it. but i'm not.

and i still have the great urge (if i ever see him again) to punch the man who told me once that he didn't believe that any one of their deaths should have such an effect on me, since after all, his sister was a nurse and she saw dying people all the time. and she didn't crack up.

really? REALLY??? REALLY???? like the death of some relative strangers who come into your hospital or whereever would have the same effect on you as the death of a child, who you had a many yeared relationship with starting when they were three and ending when... ? Who you spent countless hours working with and on their behalf. often at the cost of your own family. and your own self. Whose families invited you in to their homes and shared their hopes, dreams, and worst fears with? and multiply that by 10. plus the recent death of your sister in law, who was the closest to a real sister as you'll ever get.

so. really? REALLY? REALLY???

as i said, i STILL want to punch him for his insensitivity. and that was YEARS ago. really, i'd like to do more than punch him for dumping me when i needed him most. because i expressed a little pain and grief. inarticulately.

and i think about him and all these things, and i lose my calm. so i close my eyes again. to picture those sleepy, drowsy, calm, peaceful smiles i saw yesterday.

i answer my friend. i say, "sometimes, i feel like the teacher of death."

she answers me back and says, "u r. but i think it's a good job for u."

i don't know exactly what she means by that. i'm supposing that she means i'm good at comforting people. (although, clearly, not myself.) or more likely she's just trying to be funny. and make me laugh by summoning up a picture of the grim reaper with an apple in her hand. but, i don't know.

all i know is that it doesn't ever seem to get any easier. and i believe i will choose at this point to quit being the teacher. and try instead to be the student. and let my former student teach me. how to deal with all this gracefully. and calmly.

i'll start by closing my eyes.

too much.

so my bestie from college took some days off from her hectic work and she came to visit me. just to get away from it all for a bit. i was happy. she was to arrive on sunday afternoon. on friday evening i got a text from one of my co-workers telling me the timeline on something had been moved up. I wasn't too upset or worried about it, as I had a handle on what needed to be done to get it going and i knew it was doable. it did involve a bit of work though, that i'd sort of put off, because they'd not given us all the tools we needed to complete the project until just last week.

but i had plans for friday night and for saturday and so i decided to set aside time to do that on Sunday morning before my friend arrived. Well, first i didn't get up until 10. then i had some other things i needed to do and so i didn't get started until noon. which was fine, especially since my friend texted and said she wouldn't be here until 4 or so and that she'd text me when she got here so i could let her in. i settled in to work. and work i did. i worked with only breaks to go to the bathroom for 5 hours. i was really focused.

which wouldn't have been a problem, except for i was concentrating so hard and not paying attention to the time at all and my phone was set on vibrate but sitting away from me on the sofa, where the vibrations wouldn't make much noise. plus, you might recall that i don't hear well.

so my friend did get here about 4 and she texted me. i did not answer. she decided maybe i was out on my bike or possibly napping and so she decided to take a walk. well, she walked and she repeatedly called and texted me for 45 minutes. i heard none of the texts and none of her phone calls. i was working and i was focused.

so then from walking, she was hot and she got in her car and turned on the air conditioning and texted another friend of ours to see if she knew where i was. she didn't hear back from her. she was out on a bike ride. so then she called her husband. and told him that she didn't know what to do. and that she was afraid that i was inside and had had a heart attack or maybe fallen and hit my head or something awful. she started crying.

while she was talking to him, i got to a stopping place and went to my phone where i read the last of many texts to me which said, "xxxxx, call me PLEASE, you are scaring me." right away i called her without listening to the voicemails or reading the other texts and asked her, "what the hell? what's the matter?"

well by this time, she's so upset and worried and crying so i can just barely understand her saying that she's down in the parking lot in her car. i run down the stairs and out the door, where i find her, in fact, in tears. i hug her and then proceed to help her bring her stuff in while she explains how she's spent the last hour and her fears that i was hurt or ill or dead. and then she said, "i need a drink."

so i got her that drink. and then another. and i feel just awful for how i made her feel. but we drink and she calms down and i tell myself, "well at least she cares about me." so then we decided to go out to eat before going to see a late movie. so we go to eat and as we were finishing our meal, i got a phone call telling me that one of my former students was in very bad shape and in fact had been sent home to die. her mother wanted me contacted.

so yeah, i'm rattled. but after the email and immediately, there is nothing i can do. so i put down my phone and we proceed to go to the movie theatre. so this is one of those nice movie theaters where you can drink. and we get a couple glasses of wine and we sit in our seats and i reach in my purse to turn off my phone ringer. but my phone's not there. so my friend calls my phone and the people at the restaurant answer it. they tell us they are only open for another 45 minutes. the movie starts in 15 minutes, so i ask my friend if i can take her car and go get it so she can stay there and won't miss any of the movie. she agrees and hands me the keys.

so i go out to her car and here's the really stupid part. i do not know how to start it. because it's a new car that doesn't use the key. so there is a place to put in the key and i do that, then i see a start button which i push. i see a lovely visual of what's behind me, and i put the car in reverse to back out of the parking space and nothing. the screen says something about the brake and i don't understand what that means so i think "maybe the emergency brake is on. i push on that. i try several other things and give up, resigned to go in and tell my friend, i'm too stupid to drive her car.

so i do that. and she laughs and says, "i'll go get your phone, you stay here." so she goes and since i have put on the emergency brake, she doesn't know how to take it off because she's never used it before. after a while though she does get it figured out, goes to get my phone and gets back only missing about 30 seconds of the movie. whew.

so after the movie, we laugh and laugh and laugh. i tell her that i'm really sorry for making her mini-vacation from work a living hell so far. we laugh and laugh some more.

and the rest of her visit is in fact delightful. however after she left today, i was just settling down trying to process the bad news i got and figuring out to go visit her before she dies. and i get a text from my co-worker again and she's very upset because she's gotten another message about our project and it wasn't very nice. (and now mind you, the last two days we've been off.) so i listen to her and i tell her, that it's really all good and that our boss has simply misunderstood some circumstances. i tell her to answer him and to reassure him, that in fact, all is well. i get off the phone and i write up some more stuff. that really could have waited until tomorrow but since he was all hyper, i decided to just get it done tonight.

and in between i'm emailing back and forth about my student. and i'm thinking. i have not had time to process this. not one moment. i can't process it because i just haven't had time because of work and company and stupid things.

and i thought how much my life used to be like this almost all the time. and how i'm SO glad that for the most part it's not anymore. because i gotta tell you. it's too overwhelming for me. and not that i'm not glad for my friend's visit, i really was, and am. but sometimes too much is just too much. and i'm glad that most of the time anymore, my life is not too much.

fun and games

i always wonder why i'm so predisposed to be lazy. and i have almost no competitive spirit really. i not only don't want to reach for success on any exterior level, i have little to no ambition to reach, achieve, or surpass personal goals. but maybe that's not quite it.

so a friend of mine is an avid outdoor enthusiast. she and her family bike and hike and climb. and she's always encouraging me to do so too. but i kind of avoid such things with her, because when i'm with her, i always feel slow. and out of shape. and let's put it this way, bored. all i can think about when we're riding is "go faster, keep up, go faster." and it's monotonous to me. and grueling.

but put me on my bike alone, where i'm free to meander as i please and go as slow or fast as i please, and i'm a really happy girl. because i can think my thoughts and look at things i want to look at without trying to go as fast as i can maintain. if it takes me all day to get to point b from point a, it doesn't matter. i like sauntering. i like stopping when i feel like it. and i always wonder about the people (on my left) who are whizzing past me in such a hurry. where are they going, i wonder? and if they want to go that fast, why not get in a car?

and then one night while i was visiting my daughter, after dinner she, her husband, and i played jenga. you know, where you are supposed to build a tower using the blocks you take out of the foundation. But you are supposed to want to put your opponents in a precarious position, so that they crash the tower and they lose and you win. it was fun. and then while considering a move and outloud voicing my thoughts on the possibilities, my daughter noted that i really didn't play the game right, because i wasn't trying to put my opponents in the position to lose the game, i was trying to make sure the tower got as high as it could so that the game could continue. that's not the game, she informed me.

but then there are my words with friends games. where, i almost always win. i almost always beat anyone i play. even at the times when i've asked the game to match me with someone with like abilities, i almost always win. one such player asked me if i cheat and use the word finder apps on the computer. and i say no, but i don't think they believe me. i just play. because i like to play. and i very much enjoy the feature that allows you to try out words without getting penalized. and that you can take as long as you'd like to reply. but, i wonder if i'd like playing as much if i didn't usually win. i have one friend who i play all the time. and she's never, not once beat me. i've even more or less tried to lose to her and somehow can't. and she's not a stupid person at all. but she's just no good at this. and i wonder why in the heck she keeps asking to play again. and will often have multiple games going with me. i honestly think that she's hoping one day she'll get really lucky and beat me. and then that will be the day she stops playing. she can feel like she's done something. achieved something that she couldn't do before.

i don't know. but it's got me thinking that maybe my lack of competitive drive comes from that i simply don't like to lose.

i watch my little grandson who has become something of a relief pitcher when his team is getting overwhelmed. and i almost hate watching because i can't stand the pressure. but, he's exactly like his father, my son, who although he feels the pressure, also seems to withstand it. and most times, because he's calm, he gets them out of their jams. even while he's certainly not the fastest or maybe even the most versatile of pitchers. what he does and can do is keep his calm. i admire that in him, as i admired it in my son. me, i'd be saying, "please take me out, surely there is someone who can pitch better than i can." but not him. in fact, in a recent game where the team he was playing on already had the game won and he started to get in a bit of trouble himself, because of fielder errors and just plain good hits, the coach came to take him out. and he said he'd go, but if it was ok with the coach, he'd really like to finish the inning. and then within four or so pitches, he finally did. the thing was he wanted to work his way out. while i would have just wanted the hell out of there.

and i suppose that part of this is that he's not yet really learned that sometimes things are just hopeless. (and i hope he never really does.) But, i also think that in a way that to him, this competition with others and with himself is just plain fun. it's a fun challenge. all i know is that to me, it's not fun at all.

the big wreck

so my grandson and i were trying to out race a thunderstorm on our bikes.

and we were darn close to winning. getting home before the first drop.

the wind was snarling at our backs. the clouds were gaining on us. but we were making good time.

and then my cell phone rang.

my grandson's father calling to tell us that maybe we'd want to start home because a storm was coming.

and i tried to wrestle it out of my pocket and answer it.

and that's what caused my big wreck.

"GRANDMA, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?"

"yes, i'm fine." sitting on the ground, underneath the bike, laughing.

but embarrassed because the guy in the van at the corner and the guy we just rode gloriously past and waved to- both came to make sure i was ok.

so i had a bloody, scraped, and bruised knee to show for it. my son gave me a ninja turtles bandaid. and asked me if i was ok.

i was. in fact, it felt good. i told him- it felt like being a little kid again.

and tonight, a week later, the scrape and scabs are pretty much healed over. and there's only the bruise to remind me. and i rub it lightly. just to feel it a little bit more before it's gone.

it feels like summer, when you were a little kid.

i'm perfect

ha ha.

yeah. i know. i am about as far from perfect as a person can possibly be. i'm lazy. i have little to no ambition. i am often jealous or envious of other people. i hate to exercise. i have bad habits. i get really frustrated with people at times when they are rude or impatient or intolerant. when i'm hurt, i'm not only inarticulate, i can't think straight. i'm clumsy. i'm shy. i'm often forgetful. i'm not photogenic. i often think horrible things.

i could go on. but i'm starting to ruin what little self-esteem i have. so i'll flip back to the subject of my perfection. which happens to be my health right now. apparently my blood pressure is good. my pulse rate is good. my weight is good. my bmi is good. my reflexes are good. my heart and lung sounds are good.

so says my doctor. his exact words, "you're perfect..." which was really nice to hear until he added, "for a woman your age."

ah well. i said i was perfect; i didn't say i was young.

it's the little things

there's always that let down when you come back from a great vacation. after you get over the jetlag. and get things unpacked. and put things in order. and do all your errands. and then all of the sudden-

thud. back to your old boring life.

and let's admit it, my life could be thought of as boring. but you know? for the most part, i'm really not. bored. boring maybe. but not bored. and i'm wondering why that is. a lot of that is because i'm not where i was completely miserable anymore. just having moved has helped a lot. lot. lot.

but also- i've decided it's the little things. i just like the little things.

like i'm kinda thrilled that i got the red wine stains out of my favorite traveling pants. using a mixture that i concocted all on my own.

and i was kinda thrilled today when i called to make a doctor's appointment that they had a cancellation, and they could get me in right away rather than in two weeks.

and i was kinda happy when i was riding my bike today, and i saw a screaming bright red cardinal in amongst the greenery on the trail. colors so vivid, i can almost still them them.

and i was delighted that a new recipe that i tried - tasted delicious.

and i got all my mailing done. and i like my post office.

and it didn't rain today.

and i don't have to work for a week and a half yet. so i can stay up late and sleep in as late as i want.

and that i get to see a good friend tomorrow.

it's all not much. i'm not on an exciting vacation still. i don't have anyone special in my life. i'm not curing cancer. i'm not helping anybody.

but then again, i'm not hurting anybody either, am i? and i'm content with the little things.

calm during the storms

something seems to have fundamentally changed about me. i have ideas as to why. but i find it strange all the same.

it seems that i'm quite calm. all the time and in most any event. before, during, and after. i used to not be like that. i used to have high, high, high anxiety about almost everything. i was usually worse after the event. thinking about all that might have happened. most people that knew me never knew i was that nervous though. only the people really close to me. but i was nervous about all manner of things.

things like flying. getting places on time. making phone calls. meeting new people. social situations. storms.
the list goes on.

but you know what? i just traveled half way around the world and on trains, planes, and automobiles. oh and busses. and i met new people. in various social situations. and i wasn't nervous or anxious once.

and today, i was right in the middle of a tornado warning. a tornado apparently flew right over me here where i live. and you know what? i wasn't nervous, before-during-or after. i was and am completely calm.

i kind of think it's because i just don't care anymore. about much of anything. and i kind of think that before i used to be more worried about the effects to others, such as and especially my children.

but honestly, i don't really have to worry about them anymore. they are grown up, on their own, and doing well. and even my grandchild. i don't really worry about because his parents firmly have that all covered. and he's old enough now that he has some sense of his own. so none of it is on me.

and i just feel calm. all the time. maybe i'd better check my pulse. perhaps i'm dead.

Iustitia

so never in my long life have i been summoned for jury duty. until now. i just got this summons in the mail. and i almost threw it out just now, thinking it was junk mail. and quite honestly, i kinda thought it would be interesting to be on jury duty. i know. i'm the only person in the world that would think that.

but here's the problem. i won't be in town when they want me to serve. so now i have to figure out how to get out of jury duty because i'm just not sure being on vacation will be considered a hardship. so i guess i'll figure all that out tomorrow.

anyway, as i said, i was kind of interested in being a juror, if only to see if it's anything like it's portrayed on tv. and i'm curious to see if juries are only filled with people too stupid to get out of jury duty. maybe they'll defer my time to later so i can find out.

not a wink

i write this, juice bottle in hand. i have been up all night. i haven't slept a wink. what have i done? well, i unpacked. i ran the dishwasher. i wrote people on the computer. i put away all the laundry. i sorted out all the gifts i have for people. i finished 200 pages of a book. i made a grocery list. i played solitaire scrabble on my kindle. i sat on my deck staring at the moon. i took a bath. i washed my hair. i listened to the birds singing before the dawn. i looked at my pictures from my trip. i looked at my souvenirs. i staked my tomato plant.

i did a bunch more stuff too. but what i didn't do was sleep. my system is all messed up i guess. i slept not a wink on the plane on the way home. then i went to bed at 11 that night and slept until my son woke me up at noon. then i went to lunch, and i hung around at my mother's house before going to a little league game and then driving back here. thinking, of course, that i would then get a good night's sleep.

well, as you know, that was just a silly thought. because i slept not a wink.

and i've decided that since i have to work tomorrow that i won't sleep the rest of today either. so as not to mess myself up further. i'll just go to bed at 9 pm or some such ridiculous hour. when here, it's still light out.

what will i do in the meantime? well, i guess i'll go to that work meeting that i said i'd miss. i'll deliver some gifts. i'll go to the grocery store. i'll cook myself a meal. i'll vacuum. i'll go for a walk. i'll ride my bike to the library and return the book i finished and get another one.

what i won't do is sleep. not a wink.

Limited good fortune in a magical place

do you believe in magic?

my daughter's adopted country seems to me to be a magical place. magical for me in that almost everything i know about it delights me. it's beautiful and yet not at all perfect. which makes it even more beautiful. it's quirky and yet traditional. the people seem kind- yet distant and in a hurry. and i think also, part of the magic in this place is that i believe it's where my daughter has found something close to, if not exactly, true happiness- in this world. and that i think is something that is reserved for so few of us. and something that i feel she deserves more than almost anyone. i adore her husband. he is kind, sweet, smart, funny, and an honest to goodness- gentleman. and so it's very hard not to love a country which produced him and then put him in her path. very magical, i think.

and then, part of the magic for me is that this is a place that holds only good memories for me. i have been here 4 times now, and i can't think of one single moment that anything here caused me any unhappiness. (well, except for that Ferris wheel.)

so today we traveled to a part of this country that i had never been to before. and we went to a park where deer peacefully stroll about rather heaven-like grounds. and we visited a shrine. where they were selling fortunes. and the heading of my fortune said, "Limited Good Fortune." and i'm thinking, "well, that sucks."

but actually, it was only very slightly limited. i actually thought all of it was pretty good. and i'm going to write it all out here- partially because if i lose the little piece of paper then i'll always have it to remind me of the magic here.

here are my fortunes, by category:

Your desire: thanks to the help of others, it will turn out as you hope. Prospects excellent. (cool.)

The awaited one: will come, in spite of some difficulties. (hmm.)

Lost objects: look for a woman's advice. (ok.)

Journeys: a good time for setting out. ((-:)

Trade: profits will result, through the assistance of someone else. (yippee- profits!)

Agriculture: prospects excellent. Fulfillment of your hopes. (maybe this means my plants won't die while i'm gone?)

Directions: south is especially auspicious. (i've always been fond of south; it's usually warmer there.)

Quarrels: uncertain at first, but improvement in your favor later on. (I will be proven right in the end; sweet.)

Employees and dependents: hesitation is advised. (i don't have any employees or dependents, so no worries.)

Change of residence: it would be best to keep to your present home. (i had just been considering moving, but was leaning against it. and it seems my fortune believes i shouldn't too.)

Birth: easy. Be assured. (i've already been born. don't believe in being born again, so ?)

Illness: will be cured, although it may seem serious. (YAY for cures.)

Love and marriage: will not reach a conclusion so soon as hoped, but will turn out well in the end if you are patient. (well, i wanted to be married years ago, what's a little more time? and even if this never proves true, i believe now that i am quite strong and happy in my independence.)

so i believe i will take my "limited good fortune" and believe in this magic.

ad endum

yes, i know i spelled it incorrectly.

so the other day i wrote about how i didn't get how the parents of mentally ill children (adult or otherwise) could just abdicate from their responsibility to monitor and take care of their children. i was speaking of the tragedy in california, of course. and today, i heard on npr a discussion saying about people with mental illnesses, their families, and the difficulties in such. and they were saying that in the california case, the parents really did all that they reasonably could given that their child was an adult. they also made the point that you can't really expect law enforcement to be of much assistance unless we did a better job of staffing police departments with people trained in handling people with mental illnesses and even then, we can't expect a perfect world- that even trained professionals make errors in judgement. they also discussed at what point others have the right to take away the rights of mentally ill. it's all pretty jumbled and murky really.

and so i've been thinking about that for the better part of the afternoon. and i still go back to parents. in that they need to be more proactive rather than reactive as the california parents were. by that i mean, while we all want our children to be independent as adults, i think we need to face the fact that there are some children/people who aren't going to be independent as adults. the other day, i gave the example of cognitively challenged children/adults. i think we also though, have to seriously consider this in terms of the issue of mental illness. i'm not talking about depression or anxiety disorders and such, but i do mean mental illnesses where you have any degree of psychosis or breaks with reality. i think in those cases, there always needs to be guardianship. and close monitoring and even in-residence care-taking or supervised adult living.

many years ago, in my small town, there was a man who was perhaps late 30ish or 40ish at the time. and he was schizophrenic. (and no, i didn't lay-diagnose him, i knew his family and they were open about the diagnosis.) anyway, he lived independently and even while it was a small enough town, his family really never knew exactly where he was or even how he was at any given time. and sad to say it, he just kind of had that "vacant" look, like he was somewhere else other than where he physically was, whenever you'd see him. and he's often be talking or mumbling to himself or to people who weren't there. and quite honestly, he scared people. he scared me, i'm ashamed to admit. but here's the thing. as the parent of two small children, it made me uneasy as all hell to be in the same store with him when my children were there. fair, not fair, i can't say. but it's how i felt about him. to the degree that one time when i was taking my kids out to get ice cream, we entered an ice cream store and i saw him and on seeing him, i turned my children around and said, "we're going to Dairy Queen instead."

explaining the incident to my then-husband later, i admitted my shame for feeling that way and my actions, but my assertion that my first duty was to keep my children safe. and i said, "i'm just afraid that something in his imagination will set him off someday and he'll take out a whole store or something."

turns out he didn't. what he actually did one day some 8 or so years later was hang himself. taking out only himself. thankfully. and sadly.

but you know? what an exceedingly lonely sad life for him. to have people be so afraid of you, they won't even share the same air with you. and i think, how much better would it have been for him to have lived with his family or in a supervised setting, where it could be assured that he would take his meds and it could be assured that he'd have people to interact with him. i guess what i'm saying is that he'd have had a better life without all that independence. and with others assuming some of his responsibilities. and i can't think that had his family or a companion been with him when he was sitting at that ice cream shoppe, that i would have been afraid of him.

did you ever see the movie, benny and june? i loved that movie. and it was rather about this subject. the brother did not want to let his sister (who i think was schizophrenic) have independence. he kept hiring housekeepers who she would drive away. then one day someone showed up who wanted to actually be a family member who would take care of her. (good old johnny depp) at first the brother doesn't trust that. but in the end, it's real. and i realize that this is just a fairy tale story. that you can't realistically hope that an offbeat, quirky hippie is going to show up and love your sister through her life. but seriously? i give the brother high praise for never abdicating his responsibilities until he found someone who could be trusted.