One weird thing that happened to me recently is that I got a cold three weeks ago that turned into something severe that I momentarily thought could be pneumonia. Then it subsided into a hoarse voice and a fluid-chested cough that still hasn't gone away.
Like a good American, the only day I took off work was the day I had a fever (and Leif took me to the doc for cortizone pills), then I went right back because I had tests to give the kids, and getting a sub for a week would put me behind in my plans for the entire rest of the semester. Which is worse than dragging myself to school with a cold virus. Though it got really pathetic by Friday, which is when the stuff moved into my bronchial tubes and I could no longer speak. One of the seventh hour students drew a stick figure me leaning over with eyes at half mast and arms dangling like noodles. It said "Ms. W_" under it and "sick" with an arrow pointing at me (it's on the fridge). It's a good thing I only had to "grade" poster presentations and administer tests during those three days. By Friday evening I was choke-coughing every few minutes and Leif called the doc again. I got antibiotics, and this seemed to help me feel normal, but I was still having frustrating coughing fits and not sleeping because of them (I spent a week and a half in the "guest room" bed). Then I had to perform at the Manship for a dance festival choreography showcase thing. I coughed side stage and managed to hold it in on stage.
I'm sort of wondering now why I'm typing a dramatic story of a sickness that everybody gets at some point--I think it's because it caused me to have this longing to have my normal life back. I realized I was kind of excited to start this new unit about family and culture at school and that I was starting to feel like I was on a roll in ballet class. I actually wanted to return to these things. These mammoth pursuits that often overwhelm me. The appointments to which I show up late because I'm dragging my heels in the face of challenge and discomfort.
Today I have PMS and I'm skipping ballet to sit on the couch (after debating the pros and cons of doing such). I still have this mentality that if I let myself slip out of the routine a little bit that the whole thing will be blown to shit--I'll realize that it was only a matter of time before I got tired, bored, or realized the hamster-wheel nature of goals, everyday life, and routines. For now I'm telling myself that I'll go to yoga or ballet tomorrow, ballet Wednesday, and I'll have my mandatory rehearsal Thursday night. Then maybe, with this lovely weather, I'll squeeze in a couple of walks this weekend, because we're STAYING HOME! (We flew to Jacksonville this past weekend for my cousin's wedding and today feels like there isn't enough time in the world.)
Also, I hate myself a tiny bit for the Amazon and Discount Dance return packages sitting on the floor of the living room...they've been there for weeks and I'm about to add to the pile because my "dance paws" didn't fit (I should have known to order the large). I'm still on the fence about my ballet shoes, which are pretty and Russian but maybe too tight. At least the trashbag shorts fit.
To complicate the situation, Leif's parents brought me back a three pound Toblerone from France, which is sitting on the ottoman by a shoebox of the aforementioned dance items.
***
Going to weddings--especially family ones--brings up a lot of conversation about when Leif and I are going to get married. Every time someone asks how long we've been dating and I say "close to six years," the next comment is something like "well are you hearing any wedding bells?" This comes from extended family members and co-workers or co-dancers, mostly, since most of my friends are not too traditional in that sense. But it's constant, and I feel very...wishy washy about all those big traditional life things right now. It's swampy territory filled with cliches, doubts, and blank stares.
On one hand, I like family, babies, pets, and the idea of a nice home (stable, even). I want these things, and Leif's the one I want to share them with for sure. No, we are not engaged, but yes, we might as well be. No, I will not be wearing a ring for this. No, I don't actually know how this is going to play out.
On the other hand, I feel like a big baby bumbling through a woman's (busy) life and I feel like hollering I'M NOT READY YET when the idea of a new responsibility takes form. I procrastinate everything and I'm not particularly talented at handling the Takin Care of Business adult stuff (see Amazon packages). I'm scared of booking airline tickets and new cell phone plans and I have a giant pile of shirts and slacks hanging on my closet door that I'm suppose to iron at some point this semester. Leif and I go to bed most nights taking turns saying things like, "I feel like I never got to do anything I wanted to do today" and "I guess I can do ___ tomorrow afternoon, or at least part of it." How could I decide to throw a baby or even so much as a cat into the mix and not feel like my life has been completely robbed from me?
On the third hand is the question of when we are going to buy a house (maybe in the spring/summer) and how long we are going to live there. If and when (and why) we are going to move to another state, when and where do I go back to school, and what do I want to be when I grow up (including the question of motherhood, assuming I am able to get pregnant one day). But mostly that I am a person who doesn't know how to conduct the process of getting a new cell phone plan, so I don't know the first thing about the process of house hunting (or baby raising). I mean really, how does anyone do anything?
I realize these things sound like a long string of worry about vague plans that stretch out into the distant future and, therefore, do not really exist. Maybe that's the truth of the matter. I'm feeling anxious and hoarding things to worry over. But it really does feel like time is always rushing at me like a conveyor belt and I'm running in place and then laying down to watch TV shows online and getting WAY behind because the belt is still moving. It's not that I'm trying to keep up with the Joneses--it's my own treadmill and my own freaking to-do list piling up. My own years marching by. The question of am I waiting around for the things that I want to drop in my lap?
The good news is that I just cleaned the kitchen, unpacked from the trip, and sorted and put away all of the piles of clothes in my room from last week. I've regained a tiny feeling of control from small tasks. Maybe that's all we really ever want. Well, I think peace is what we want, but we think control is the way to get that.
Now on to dinner with Leif. Most of all, I'm ravenous.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Things of Note
Been meaning to write about stuff for a while. There's a list building up. These things happened over the last four weeks.
Ms. Dee came into town and there was a Sunday of dry, breezy, sunny weather. She, Ang, and I rode bikes around the lakes. Then we went to get drinks at Perks. I got an iced "tropical" green tea, sat and chatted with them for a little while, then crossed the street for dance rehearsal. I rode my bike home from rehearsal on some scary streets with cars whizzing by, but I had one of those moments where I felt like I had an active lifestyle--where I've gotten sun and exercise, and I'm enjoying being alone. I'd spent a lot of time outside that day. It makes me feel connected to my life. Maybe when the weather starts to cool off I will get to feel that more often.
***
I found a poem (or was it a rap?) that was pages and pages long on the floor of my classroom at the end of the day. It was kind of laterally scrunched, but not balled, and it had missed the trashcan. Curious, I flipped through the pages. It was pretty good for teen angst writing--it had a lot of imagery. It looked like it was written in a huge rush--the words were not quite inside the lines on the page and each line of text was double or triple spaced. It was very dark, with images of fear, loneliness, abuse, and shame. It could have been from one of my students, or it could have been from the freshman class that "floats" in my room first hour. I balled it up and put it in the trash.
There are so many reminders of how deeply painful it is for some of these people to be teenagers, but it's easy to forget how strong--even in an age of texting and TV--their urges are to turn to writing.
***
One Friday after I was done teaching, it started pouring outside and I hadn't brought an umbrella. I stood under the overhang next to the parking lot, half-thinking it might ease up, half-preparing myself to get drenched. The school buses were parked in a line and rumbling--the kids were in the auditorium for the spirit week pep rally, and the end-of-the-day bell was about twenty minutes away. One of the bus drivers (sitting in her bus waiting for the kids) called out to me. Her door was open.
"Huh?" I said.
"You need an umbrella?"
"Oh, no, I was just going to make a run for it."
"No, here, take it." She opened a plastic Rubbermaid bin at her feet and extended a tiny black umbrella toward me. "It'll probably fall apart. It was only a dollar."
"No, I can't take your umbrella. I'll be fine."
"No, really, me and Ms. __ get a whole bunch of them from the Dollar Tree. Some of our girls have a long walk home when it rains."
I said okay, took it, and told her how sweet of her I thought it was. I imagined how glad the girls must be to receive her little umbrellas on rainy days.
***
When I returned the kids' very first essays on "what kind of writer" they imagined themselves to be, I got an idea at the last minute to pick out a couple of kids that had particularly lovely introduction paragraphs. I asked those kids to take turns standing up by their seats and reading their introductions. I thought they were going to be mortified and refuse, but they were proud and their classmates oohed and ahhed with supportive comments.
In hindsight, I got the idea from Dorothy Allison, who made us stand up and use our voices as often as possible during her class. I miss creative writing, once again. I seem to have no good ideas for short stories. I've been trying to keep my antennae out.
***
One of my students Brent (from two years ago) brought me a bar of dark chocolate between first and second hour the other day. He said he'd been meaning to do it for a long time. This was the kid who came to talk to me a few times about being gay and dealing with his parents and friends. As a black baptist, he was taught it was a sinful choice. I gave him a hug and thanked him.
***
I did a forearm stand the other day in yoga right after thinking the teacher was crazy for trying to get us to do forearm stands. (This is where you put your palms and forearms flat on the ground--to where your arms are in a right-angle with your fingertips against a wall--and kick your feet up and over your head until your heels rest against the wall.) I felt like a proud, sweaty kindergartener.
***
I cooked an egg over-easy the other morning before school and flopped it out of the pan and onto my toast. The yolk busted perfectly on the edge of my plate so that every drop of it pooled out onto the counter. I took a spoon and scooped it all off of the counter and back onto the toast before it had time to solidify. I shook my head at myself.
Ms. Dee came into town and there was a Sunday of dry, breezy, sunny weather. She, Ang, and I rode bikes around the lakes. Then we went to get drinks at Perks. I got an iced "tropical" green tea, sat and chatted with them for a little while, then crossed the street for dance rehearsal. I rode my bike home from rehearsal on some scary streets with cars whizzing by, but I had one of those moments where I felt like I had an active lifestyle--where I've gotten sun and exercise, and I'm enjoying being alone. I'd spent a lot of time outside that day. It makes me feel connected to my life. Maybe when the weather starts to cool off I will get to feel that more often.
***
I found a poem (or was it a rap?) that was pages and pages long on the floor of my classroom at the end of the day. It was kind of laterally scrunched, but not balled, and it had missed the trashcan. Curious, I flipped through the pages. It was pretty good for teen angst writing--it had a lot of imagery. It looked like it was written in a huge rush--the words were not quite inside the lines on the page and each line of text was double or triple spaced. It was very dark, with images of fear, loneliness, abuse, and shame. It could have been from one of my students, or it could have been from the freshman class that "floats" in my room first hour. I balled it up and put it in the trash.
There are so many reminders of how deeply painful it is for some of these people to be teenagers, but it's easy to forget how strong--even in an age of texting and TV--their urges are to turn to writing.
***
One Friday after I was done teaching, it started pouring outside and I hadn't brought an umbrella. I stood under the overhang next to the parking lot, half-thinking it might ease up, half-preparing myself to get drenched. The school buses were parked in a line and rumbling--the kids were in the auditorium for the spirit week pep rally, and the end-of-the-day bell was about twenty minutes away. One of the bus drivers (sitting in her bus waiting for the kids) called out to me. Her door was open.
"Huh?" I said.
"You need an umbrella?"
"Oh, no, I was just going to make a run for it."
"No, here, take it." She opened a plastic Rubbermaid bin at her feet and extended a tiny black umbrella toward me. "It'll probably fall apart. It was only a dollar."
"No, I can't take your umbrella. I'll be fine."
"No, really, me and Ms. __ get a whole bunch of them from the Dollar Tree. Some of our girls have a long walk home when it rains."
I said okay, took it, and told her how sweet of her I thought it was. I imagined how glad the girls must be to receive her little umbrellas on rainy days.
***
When I returned the kids' very first essays on "what kind of writer" they imagined themselves to be, I got an idea at the last minute to pick out a couple of kids that had particularly lovely introduction paragraphs. I asked those kids to take turns standing up by their seats and reading their introductions. I thought they were going to be mortified and refuse, but they were proud and their classmates oohed and ahhed with supportive comments.
In hindsight, I got the idea from Dorothy Allison, who made us stand up and use our voices as often as possible during her class. I miss creative writing, once again. I seem to have no good ideas for short stories. I've been trying to keep my antennae out.
***
One of my students Brent (from two years ago) brought me a bar of dark chocolate between first and second hour the other day. He said he'd been meaning to do it for a long time. This was the kid who came to talk to me a few times about being gay and dealing with his parents and friends. As a black baptist, he was taught it was a sinful choice. I gave him a hug and thanked him.
***
I did a forearm stand the other day in yoga right after thinking the teacher was crazy for trying to get us to do forearm stands. (This is where you put your palms and forearms flat on the ground--to where your arms are in a right-angle with your fingertips against a wall--and kick your feet up and over your head until your heels rest against the wall.) I felt like a proud, sweaty kindergartener.
***
I cooked an egg over-easy the other morning before school and flopped it out of the pan and onto my toast. The yolk busted perfectly on the edge of my plate so that every drop of it pooled out onto the counter. I took a spoon and scooped it all off of the counter and back onto the toast before it had time to solidify. I shook my head at myself.
Friday, August 14, 2009
with my mind on my money and my money on my mind
Geez, I woke up fighting a crazy dream that my whole family was in the car and my mom rolled a giant j with 8x11 printer paper and passed it around to all of us (which would, by the way, never EVER happen). I finished it just in time for us to get pulled over by a very big asshole cop. I panicked, balled it up and stuffed it in the pouch behind the passenger seat (we were in the old Big Bertha van). The cop searched the whole thing, found it, I was the only one to get blamed, he was all riled up with how much trouble I was going to be in. I was crying to my family and no one could help me.
All I could keep thinking was: they're going to fire me from my job! My teaching career is over! And I was really panicked and upset by this.
Despite the fact that I had rehearsal until late last night and went to bed resenting the fact that I had to wake up early to teach, this dream actually made me wake up and say: "thank god I still have my job at my awesome school and I get to go to it today." I guess teaching and I are getting kind of attached.
All I could keep thinking was: they're going to fire me from my job! My teaching career is over! And I was really panicked and upset by this.
Despite the fact that I had rehearsal until late last night and went to bed resenting the fact that I had to wake up early to teach, this dream actually made me wake up and say: "thank god I still have my job at my awesome school and I get to go to it today." I guess teaching and I are getting kind of attached.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Blake's got a new face
I met my new students yesterday. There are too many of them, because the school overscheduled me (there's a new assistant principal who obviously doesn't know what she's doing). Thank god some were absent, because they would have been sitting on the floor. I really hope they're going to fix those schedules like they promised.
But overall, the students looked really cute and sweet. I felt relaxed and a little fuzzy-brained (not used to waking up at 5:30. I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of it). I had to cut out some activities I was going to do with them when I thought we were going to be hanging out for 90 minutes (it turns out we had a schedule of seeing them for 50 minutes each), but then I pretty much finished what I needed to finish (going over the syllabus, giving them parent signature forms, talking about AR).
Yesterday was different from my previous first days because I decided to let go of the idea that I need to look really serious like I mean business or else they're going to walk all over me. Students are nervous on the first day, so I figured I'd be myself and I'd say positive things so that they felt motivated and comfortable about my class instead of scared, defensive, and resistant. I think there's a difference between trying hard to be their best friend and just being disarming, so I let myself be encouraging and jokey.
Then I went over to Ang and Ben's house after school, since I pass it every day and I wanted to see how Ben's first day at his new school went. They served me delicious home brew followed by a visit to the Bulldog and Thai Kitchen. I ate way too much. I slept from 10 to 10.
After conversations with people from the dance company and one of my friends at school who looks really good after getting a personal trainer and slightly adjusted her diet (and discovering that my school pants are VERY tight in the waist), I think I'm going to start experimenting with some new healthy habits. I really like my diet overall, and I've been exercising pretty frequently between yoga class, dance workouts, and dance class, but I'm still carrying some extra fat around that I'd like to shed/tone.
The new experiment is going to involve cutting out my nightly red wine during the week. I don't believe it's super unhealthy or anything--it's just that I have a hard time having a small amount, and when I have it with food, I tend to eat way more because it tastes so good as a combination. I also use it as a sleep aid. I've read that alcohol can actually mess with your sleep because your body is burning up the sugars and can overheat--if that doesn't sound like me, I don't know what does.
I'm still going to have it on weekends if I want, of course. Oh, and I'm not going to have beer on weekdays to replace it or anything.
The other experiment is adding some cardio into my life--my idea is that I'm going to jog down to the BR beach and back (and maybe work on my pull-up strength on the bars while I'm there), which will equal about two miles total. I haven't tried this yet, but I've been doing some jogging as part of our Monday night workouts for dance, and I've been doing okay with that.
It's unbearably hot outside, though, so I'll have to pick a time of day that doesn't result in me fainting on the side of a busy street.
I may try these experiments one at a time.
But overall, the students looked really cute and sweet. I felt relaxed and a little fuzzy-brained (not used to waking up at 5:30. I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of it). I had to cut out some activities I was going to do with them when I thought we were going to be hanging out for 90 minutes (it turns out we had a schedule of seeing them for 50 minutes each), but then I pretty much finished what I needed to finish (going over the syllabus, giving them parent signature forms, talking about AR).
Yesterday was different from my previous first days because I decided to let go of the idea that I need to look really serious like I mean business or else they're going to walk all over me. Students are nervous on the first day, so I figured I'd be myself and I'd say positive things so that they felt motivated and comfortable about my class instead of scared, defensive, and resistant. I think there's a difference between trying hard to be their best friend and just being disarming, so I let myself be encouraging and jokey.
Then I went over to Ang and Ben's house after school, since I pass it every day and I wanted to see how Ben's first day at his new school went. They served me delicious home brew followed by a visit to the Bulldog and Thai Kitchen. I ate way too much. I slept from 10 to 10.
After conversations with people from the dance company and one of my friends at school who looks really good after getting a personal trainer and slightly adjusted her diet (and discovering that my school pants are VERY tight in the waist), I think I'm going to start experimenting with some new healthy habits. I really like my diet overall, and I've been exercising pretty frequently between yoga class, dance workouts, and dance class, but I'm still carrying some extra fat around that I'd like to shed/tone.
The new experiment is going to involve cutting out my nightly red wine during the week. I don't believe it's super unhealthy or anything--it's just that I have a hard time having a small amount, and when I have it with food, I tend to eat way more because it tastes so good as a combination. I also use it as a sleep aid. I've read that alcohol can actually mess with your sleep because your body is burning up the sugars and can overheat--if that doesn't sound like me, I don't know what does.
I'm still going to have it on weekends if I want, of course. Oh, and I'm not going to have beer on weekdays to replace it or anything.
The other experiment is adding some cardio into my life--my idea is that I'm going to jog down to the BR beach and back (and maybe work on my pull-up strength on the bars while I'm there), which will equal about two miles total. I haven't tried this yet, but I've been doing some jogging as part of our Monday night workouts for dance, and I've been doing okay with that.
It's unbearably hot outside, though, so I'll have to pick a time of day that doesn't result in me fainting on the side of a busy street.
I may try these experiments one at a time.
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