Fri, April 23, 2010 7:58:15 PM
my fingers are frozen from changing a tire in the rain. i sped over a pipe on the highway and rode sinking all the way into town. a woman at a stop light shouted the bad news. wondered what that rumbling torque was about.
i could not find my tools, or the secret space in which the manual promises they are hidden.
spares always seem way too small.
an angry mother called my principal this afternoon to complain that i was not fulfilling her daughter's iep accommodations. both of my directors came into my room to confront me while i was meeting with my induction mentor.
i called the mother after school and invited (instructed) her to observe first hand her daughter's educational experience monday morning. any other concerns you'd like to share? i grit my teeth.
my father sent the family an email announcing unsettling results from a colonoscopy this morning. he called it a "preview of coming attractions" as he enters old(er) age. i am laughing and not, noting all the ways his health is already compromised. i tell myself my parents are invincible and wonder what other myths i adore.
the rain, the rain, the rain.
i watched it strike obliquely.
the wind is begging for something.
this day.
i will meditate on letting go and chocolate.
.
Friday, April 23, 2010
(read this in a day or two).
Fri, April 23, 2010 7:07:42 AM
this morning was like waking from dreams involving defiant nine-year-olds and then realizing heavily that it is indeed monday.
sad.
we were hang gliding over the city, but it was more like flying. i watched your legs behind you and thought you’d been doing this for a long time. your sail was pink and fluttering, and mine blended into the sky. i couldn’t see myself and we drifted apart.
on the ground, you asked how much fun i had. i didn’t want you to know i was clumsy and would need a lot of practice.
later, we took a train to california and i realized i lost you in security (?) in my rush for breakfast (coffee) on the run. the train was yellow with sunlight, and i was surrounded by families with well-behaved babies. i wondered how you would catch up and if you intended to.
finally (somehow) we were home (you lived here?), and it was snowing heavily. through the upstairs window i saw a fountain of white surging up from the ground and investigated. it was your friend snow blowing the walk. i addressed her with gratitude, but she was indifferent or distracted. somehow it occurred to me that she lived in the house on the corner. i asked why you hadn’t mentioned this and how i hadn’t noticed. everyone shrugged. you turned back to your computer to continue a piece about Money.
there was also something about a talented black cat.
and an amish town known for amazing root beer.
other pieces will come to me throughout the day.
happy day, whichever it is that you are reading this now.
.
this morning was like waking from dreams involving defiant nine-year-olds and then realizing heavily that it is indeed monday.
sad.
we were hang gliding over the city, but it was more like flying. i watched your legs behind you and thought you’d been doing this for a long time. your sail was pink and fluttering, and mine blended into the sky. i couldn’t see myself and we drifted apart.
on the ground, you asked how much fun i had. i didn’t want you to know i was clumsy and would need a lot of practice.
later, we took a train to california and i realized i lost you in security (?) in my rush for breakfast (coffee) on the run. the train was yellow with sunlight, and i was surrounded by families with well-behaved babies. i wondered how you would catch up and if you intended to.
finally (somehow) we were home (you lived here?), and it was snowing heavily. through the upstairs window i saw a fountain of white surging up from the ground and investigated. it was your friend snow blowing the walk. i addressed her with gratitude, but she was indifferent or distracted. somehow it occurred to me that she lived in the house on the corner. i asked why you hadn’t mentioned this and how i hadn’t noticed. everyone shrugged. you turned back to your computer to continue a piece about Money.
there was also something about a talented black cat.
and an amish town known for amazing root beer.
other pieces will come to me throughout the day.
happy day, whichever it is that you are reading this now.
.
triumph overall (spring).
Springtime AM, PM
i am hunched over the vent in the corner of my living room, steeping in currents of heat. there is an uneven rock stack on a table to my left and three pussy willow stalks in a vase. my gram always said they symbolized spring.
it is cold here in the morning because the heat is down since my body ignites in sleep.
i just went outside to put the dogs in the kennel and the air smells so light and heavy and full it went right to my head. does that ever happen to you? in the midst of stress or angst, something you love unhinges you with what a gift it all is, and everything turns, and you are swinging.
i love that.
joy cycles, like everything that seems spring.
i read this tonight by annie dillard and just liked it: “nature is as careless as it is bountiful, and with extravagance goes a crushing waste that will one day include our own cheap lives.”
i guess it sounds dark out of context, but there is triumph overall? live!
.
i am hunched over the vent in the corner of my living room, steeping in currents of heat. there is an uneven rock stack on a table to my left and three pussy willow stalks in a vase. my gram always said they symbolized spring.
it is cold here in the morning because the heat is down since my body ignites in sleep.
i just went outside to put the dogs in the kennel and the air smells so light and heavy and full it went right to my head. does that ever happen to you? in the midst of stress or angst, something you love unhinges you with what a gift it all is, and everything turns, and you are swinging.
i love that.
joy cycles, like everything that seems spring.
i read this tonight by annie dillard and just liked it: “nature is as careless as it is bountiful, and with extravagance goes a crushing waste that will one day include our own cheap lives.”
i guess it sounds dark out of context, but there is triumph overall? live!
.
i don't really want to be a teacher.
Thu, April 22, 2010 7:06:54 PM radical honesty.
Wed, April 14, 2010 10:40:49 PM finally.
i'm noticing on my conference schedule that all of these people will have no showed or canceled for the next hour. makes me happy and sad at the same time. my favorites so far are the older brother who explained his parents don't do conferences because they are hispanic, and the fathers who only ask about homework, repeatedly, and the mother who insists that her daughter should skip a grade like angelic. then there are the parents who ask me to separate their kid from this other kid, and others who pray that their children will be ready for fifth grade, and some who want parenting advice, which stumps me every time.
they smile so sweetly. these are their babies. i can't think of grades right away.
i’ve been running around like a crazy person this week at work, trying to manage the usual tension between what i believe and what i do, and a growing sense of inadequacy. this last leg will be a tough one. i make lists and lists and lists of everything i will do differently and better and more of, but the smell of grass hits at 3:35 and the students flee to their cars and i stare into the sun and forget it all.
do you ever want to be somewhere else? i wonder if i am living up to whoever i am.
.
Wed, April 14, 2010 10:40:49 PM finally.
i'm noticing on my conference schedule that all of these people will have no showed or canceled for the next hour. makes me happy and sad at the same time. my favorites so far are the older brother who explained his parents don't do conferences because they are hispanic, and the fathers who only ask about homework, repeatedly, and the mother who insists that her daughter should skip a grade like angelic. then there are the parents who ask me to separate their kid from this other kid, and others who pray that their children will be ready for fifth grade, and some who want parenting advice, which stumps me every time.
they smile so sweetly. these are their babies. i can't think of grades right away.
i’ve been running around like a crazy person this week at work, trying to manage the usual tension between what i believe and what i do, and a growing sense of inadequacy. this last leg will be a tough one. i make lists and lists and lists of everything i will do differently and better and more of, but the smell of grass hits at 3:35 and the students flee to their cars and i stare into the sun and forget it all.
do you ever want to be somewhere else? i wonder if i am living up to whoever i am.
.
a dream.
Mon, March 29, 2010 10:35:06 PM very curious.
i bolted from bed this morning at 6:30 with no alarm. my body is trained to panic over schedules.
when i was a young girl i had vivid lucid dreams. i discovered in my sleep the ability to manipulate my environment as soon as i realized i was experiencing a dream world. with these powers, i was able to invite strawberry short cake to my birthday party, win unlimited trophies, fluffy chicks and pink carefree gum, and summon my brothers to silence by pointing. it was an incredible feeling. i was also able to escape nightmares or lucid dreams gone wrong by looking up and shooting my eyelids open. my greatest feelings of control occurred in sleep.
eventually i became too distracted by real life to pay so much energy to dreams. i didn't view this with despair until recently.
.
i bolted from bed this morning at 6:30 with no alarm. my body is trained to panic over schedules.
when i was a young girl i had vivid lucid dreams. i discovered in my sleep the ability to manipulate my environment as soon as i realized i was experiencing a dream world. with these powers, i was able to invite strawberry short cake to my birthday party, win unlimited trophies, fluffy chicks and pink carefree gum, and summon my brothers to silence by pointing. it was an incredible feeling. i was also able to escape nightmares or lucid dreams gone wrong by looking up and shooting my eyelids open. my greatest feelings of control occurred in sleep.
eventually i became too distracted by real life to pay so much energy to dreams. i didn't view this with despair until recently.
.
about writing.
Wed, March 31, 2010 7:46:26 AM check yes or no; 10:49:41 PM a day.
we are working on driving our stories with description over action in the blue group. they are incredible writers, very playful. i pour over their words, stealing notebooks to photocopy, reading sentences aloud with wonder. children are lyrical. all this vigor and severity. the inside of their brain is just right there, spilled out and flashing bluntly. complete and incomplete. i ask them to explain it, but they don’t understand the question. everything is there.
that is the thing. this push to develop, to facilitate, guide, mold, indoctrinate, coerce. the lines are thin. i just want to enjoy them, but it is naive.
writing is a lot about control. but it can also be about release, or maybe i'm reframing. i have been called more comfortable with ideas than people, and writing feels like evidence of this. i have had to force myself into different kinds of interactions over the years.
i wrote a chapter book in middle school about freezing time. the main character had found this stop watch that could pause linear time and manipulate events. i realized at one point that i didn't understand the central conflict or how to end the story, so i plunged all the characters off the side of a bridge in a white fifteen-passenger van. it was the end of the school year so it seemed right.
i was also interested in parallel universes, and thought "the beginning of the end" was an incredible title for a novel on this subject. for some reason. a year later, the tv series 'sliders' appeared, and i swore i was robbed.
to this day no one believes me.
.
naming, carried away.
Tue, March 30, 2010 8:43:37 PM naming; 3:33:45 PM carried away from what
i'm writing with frozen knuckles upon returning from a very informative trail tour. my parents take great pride in their work here. they construct fences and gardens and fix things which fail in fierce weather. the paths keep them busy, forcing through the woods with chainsaws and grading blades. my mom has painted modest signs naming each route: porcupine, clover, hillview circle, winding way.
they have so much joy here.
the drive to the cabin was nice. my parents narrate the journey every time, detailing the scenery with pride and enchantment. there is eddie, who does their septic field and clears the roads in the winter. he is down the street from the man who stores pontoons in shrink wrap. he might work with the guy who builds sheds and calls my dad carl (it is carlton), but they can’t remember. forest wheeler is head of citizens watch, and bill comes up from texas every year for the association meeting. then there are the plains where the amish plow enormous fields with the strength of six horses in rows, and over there is the second most famous trout river east of the mississippi. (“what makes it famous?” “it has a lot of trout.”) there is a tiny dive in town called “chat n’ chew,” and a gas station that cannot sell gas because of code violations. the folks who sell amazing jerky have a bear captive in a tennis cage. astounding. there is an artificial gator in a nearby swamp and a hill just north that marks the highest point in alcona county, which releases a quarterly newsletter announcing area critter citings.
who wouldn’t live here?
when we exited the truck, my mom spun in circles. dad headed for the barn door which was in need of repair. i took a lot of pictures of bark and sand and anticipation of spring.
.
i'm writing with frozen knuckles upon returning from a very informative trail tour. my parents take great pride in their work here. they construct fences and gardens and fix things which fail in fierce weather. the paths keep them busy, forcing through the woods with chainsaws and grading blades. my mom has painted modest signs naming each route: porcupine, clover, hillview circle, winding way.
they have so much joy here.
the drive to the cabin was nice. my parents narrate the journey every time, detailing the scenery with pride and enchantment. there is eddie, who does their septic field and clears the roads in the winter. he is down the street from the man who stores pontoons in shrink wrap. he might work with the guy who builds sheds and calls my dad carl (it is carlton), but they can’t remember. forest wheeler is head of citizens watch, and bill comes up from texas every year for the association meeting. then there are the plains where the amish plow enormous fields with the strength of six horses in rows, and over there is the second most famous trout river east of the mississippi. (“what makes it famous?” “it has a lot of trout.”) there is a tiny dive in town called “chat n’ chew,” and a gas station that cannot sell gas because of code violations. the folks who sell amazing jerky have a bear captive in a tennis cage. astounding. there is an artificial gator in a nearby swamp and a hill just north that marks the highest point in alcona county, which releases a quarterly newsletter announcing area critter citings.
who wouldn’t live here?
when we exited the truck, my mom spun in circles. dad headed for the barn door which was in need of repair. i took a lot of pictures of bark and sand and anticipation of spring.
.
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