Family Life

I'm thinking about family dynamics a lot lately. Therapy forced me to look at my own family and look at the roles and responsibilities each person holds in order to make the group function. We establish our roles in a family early on. It's interesting that no matter how much we all change individually, it is more comfortable to regress to our comfort zones as a community.

My brother, Adam, came home this past weekend. We attended a wedding as a family where I got to observe other families interact with my own. When my entire family is together, I notice the complex dynamics that come out in such simple ways. For example, all five of us were in one hotel room with only one bed. Everyone's complaints about one another or ways of coping with the situation said a lot about each of us. It also reminded me what an introvert I am and had me needing quiet. We went straight from the wedding and dropping Adam off at the airport to a family reunion, which really brought out reflections on family dynamics.

Family keeps us humble. When I see a lot of my distant relatives, I cannot connect with them. I think how I would have nothing to do with them in the real world if it weren't for our genetic connection. I'm not saying this to sound like different is bad. I just noticed how different our lives were and how we value such opposite things, and I felt amazed to think that something as simple as sharing some genetic makeup keeps us in each other's lives.

I had the privilege of meeting up with some friends in DC where we compared our family systems and what sort of issues threaten and/or change those dynamics. It's interesting to hear about all of the different issues families deal with. For example, I have friends who have really strained familial relationships, but because they are family, they strive to maintain some sort of connection. I think there's something animalistic and instinctual about maintaining contact with those who share our genetic makeup and/or backgrounds. Like, I've always marveled at the relationships between siblings and how no one knows your background better than your siblings. No one understands talk about your parents better than your siblings. I mean there's just a powerful bond that keeps me needing to be close to my siblings as both friends and family members.

This is straying from my original thoughts, but I'm rather apathetic. I don't want to retrace my thoughts or put effort into constructing a masterpiece. This is my blog, and I can write whatever I want. Stream of consciousness is just what I needed to write tonight.

Life slips by like a field mouse...

And the days are not full enough

By Ezra Pound

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

Not shaking the grass

This has been a favorite poem of mine since I discovered it in ninth grade. I chose it because it was short, simple, and powerful. I didn't even know who Ezra Pound was, and I had little experience understanding poetry. It's amazing that at least 8 years later, it still packs just as much punch, if not more. I love how song lyrics, poems, or even words of advice can stick with us and become deeper and more meaningful with time and wisdom. This poem came to mind today, because I felt happy a couple of times. It was one of those rare moments where I could look past the complaints that come along with being human, and just exist in peace. I saw dolphins this morning. They are mystical creatures with so much emotional depth. The more I learn about them, the more I love them. I loved them as a child, but it is another example of having an even deeper respect for them now that I'm older and know more about them and their capacity to feel emotions we've deemed human.

When I was having these "peak moments," I thought about how this is life. It started with me thinking the sky looked heavenly, and how I don't really believe in a literal heaven, but that I believe these moments of peace and beauty on Earth can be our own experiences of heaven. Then I realized, these little moments are what we live for. We work, we struggle, we go through the motions just to have a few moments of peace and joy every now and then. Don't get me wrong, I think those moments are miraculous and totally worth earning, but there's just something so sublime about contemplating our own existence.

I also reflected back on circles in my life because I had a moment that reminded me of S. Dakota. I remember being blown away and excited on my first trip when my eyes were opened to circles in every aspect of our lives. Later, in my freshman year of college, I remember saying to April (who I met on my first trip to S Dakota) that life's circularity was depressing, and I was sick of going in circles. She talked about how going in circles doesn't have to be depressing, because we come back to these "markers" (such as seasons, holidays, birthdays, etc...) with new wisdom and perspective, and that we can use them as tools to self-evaluate. I've thought about both the depressing side and optimistic side of circles, and I've decided it's a little bit of both. I'm leaning more toward the optimistic side lately, though.

I'm visiting Laura in NC. I went nearly 6 months without seeing her, which felt far too long. I have a familial relationship with her, where I've gotten used to relying on her. It's hard because her job is so demanding and our lives are going different ways, so it gets harder and harder to be there all the time for each other. We do a solid job of maintaining a strong friendship, but I'm sure her time in a PhD program and my time with the nuns will force us both to do some independent soul searching, and I realize we might not end up in the exact same place. It's hard to imagine, and we both fear a day we are not as close of friends. I think we can continue to be close friends forever, but I think the nature of growing up is that we all have to develop our own lives. That reminds me of a quote I saw today in a gift shop here--it was something about life isn't about finding yourself, but instead about creating yourself. I think that's pretty empowering. We have complete control over who we choose to be. Sure, some of our personalities are from genetics and past experiences, but having the power to change for the better is encouraging.

Good Times

Life is good these days. I had a blast at Alicia's bachelorette party on Saturday. I was a little worried about such a large group getting together and drinking too much, but there was next to no drama, and everyone had fun. We met lots of new friends throughout the night. Strangers bought Alicia drinks. There were many highlights of the evening, but I think my favorite memory is the one we call "The Great Fall of Leslie." A few girls from our group along with some new friends they met were kareokeing to "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Leslie had been harassing the DJ, asking when it was going to be their turn, but she was in the bathroom when he finally played it. All of the sudden, I see Leslie sprinting out of the bathroom and leaping onto the stage, where she fell flat on her face. Everyone stopped singing, and the entire bar stared. Leslie popped up instantly like a Jack-in-the-box and snatched the mic from one of the girls and started singing along. What made it funnier was that her voice was hoarse from yelling all night, so she had this old smoker's voice going on. We had a blast laughing about that one that night and the next day.

I had the strangest dream last night. It involved the most random group of people: former profs, one of my favorite writers, April, Evan, Silvio, coworkers from The Writing Center and my summer school program, and then some girls who lived in my dorm freshman year whose names I can't even remember. It involved this new dictator in California trying to kill infants with bumblebees to produce some sort of new energy source, my favorite writer coming into a writing class of mine, a talent show with other profs, and then my neighbor from across the street. I don't know what on earth that could mean. Probably just one of those "cleaning out the cobwebs" in my head dreams.

I came up with a question for my favorite writer in this dream, and now I really would like to ask her or someone else who writes personal memoir. I asked her if you ever get used to people asking you about these intensely personal moments we choose to write about, and if you ever develop some sort of protective layer or does it make you feel vulnerable every time. She's been writing about personal issues since she was 23, and she is now in her mid to late thirties, so I figured she would know how to separate work/writing from herself. Although, maybe that's just part of the job description as a memoirist--being okay with being vulnerable if we are in control, I guess?

This is my last week of work. The kids are getting restless, and I'm getting tired. I will miss the kids greatly, so in that sense, I am not ready to be done. I am tired though and ready to look to the future (aka get back into writing and moving in with the nuns) after I have some time for myself and get to visit Laura. I haven't seen her since like my birthday, so that's just too long. It's gonna be 5, almost 6 months since I've seen her when I finally arrive in NC. We've never been apart that long. Crazy how quickly you get used to someone being three blocks away, but how slowly you adjust to them being far away.

Heat Wave

It's been in the mid to upper nineties all week. The school I work in doesn't have air conditioning, and it seems to get hotter than outside because there is no breeze. We have fans, but they don't seem to do much in this intense weather. I sweat through my clothes pretty early on. Today, in order to escape the afternoon heat, we took a field trip to see "Cars 2." It was cute. My kids were so excited to go, but then when we were there, they all complained of being tired (we went during their nap time) and couldn't sit still. They seemed to like the movie, but they have short attention spans, and some of the humor was over their heads.

I took an adorable picture of some of the kids wearing hats. My coworker found a bunch of baseball caps at garage sales, so everyone in my class got one. They wore them sideways like little thugs or punks, and it made me laugh. They are so sweet. They all can drive me nuts, but they also have a way of melting my heart when they give me a hug at a random moment. It's always such a pleasant surprise that they just get unplanned urges to give me a hug. I even smile when it's one of the trouble makers who test my patience more times than they do not. Sometimes I have to be cold with them in order to get them to listen, and it makes me feel better that they still want to give me hugs even after I had to scold them.

Last week, some of the kids were not participating in gym. I told them they needed to at least try, but then they started picking flowers. They pick little flowers in the grass for me regularly, so I had a suspicion they would try to give it to me. I asked them not to pick flowers, but they didn't listen. Finally, I said, "If you pick that flower, I can't take it because you're supposed to be playing kickball." Of course, they try to test me, so they gave me the flowers. I had to keep my arms folded and refuse to accept them. It broke my heart to have to reject their thoughtfulness and kind gesture, but they are always testing the boundaries, trying to see what they can get away with. They know they can get away with more when they are with me as opposed to the other two women in my classroom. There's a few who refuse to listen to me unless I yell. I don't like yelling at the kids. It makes me sad, but I can't let them be out of control either, or they will have even more trouble during the school year. It's sad to know many of my kids will only continue the cycle, but a few always give me hope. I hope several of them get to attend college and do something different with their lives. They are such good kids born into unfair circumstances.

At the movie theater today, one of the kids was excited about the automatic paper-towel-dispenser. He said, "All I had to do was wave 'hi' to it, and it gave me paper all by itself." I smiled even though he was supposed to be standing quietly in line. It just seems so sweet to think of waving your hand in front of a motion sensor as waving, "hi." The kids give me a fresh perspective every now and then, in addition to keeping me from being too serious.

I've been reflecting on how serious my family and I can be, but how I'm still drawn to comedy. There was a period in my life where I was obsessed with Saturday Night Live. I read everything I could about the writers and performers from different eras. I started getting interested in improv comedy and how a lot of the performers and writers came from improv groups. I dreamed of doing improv comedy, and I even considered joining the improv group my first year of college. I realized I just wasn't meant to be a performer, but in another life I could see myself doing something like that.

My love for comedy was set on the back burner for a while due to my love for social justice, experiencing depressions, and then school. Since I got netflix, I'm getting back into watching standup. Standup is really hit or miss with me. I don't like to think I'm offended easily, but I suppose by some standards I am. I don't think it's overly sensitive to not laugh at issues that hurt people. I think it's just common decency. A lot of the standup on TV is shallow and offensive, so I'm enjoying being reminded that I do have a sense of humor. There's plenty of smart, good standup out there.

Also, I read Tina Fey's book recently and then went to see "Bridesmaids," which is starring and cowritten by Kristen Wiig. Both the book and the movie kept me laughing out loud, reminding me I'm not "too serious," like I sometimes feel. I have a sense of humor; it just might not be the most conventional. I think being an activist, people accuse us of not having a sense of humor or say we need to "lighten up." For example, I've heard a lot of people criticize Ashley Judd for being so intense now that her book is out and she is on twitter, often posting about social justice facts. I think she is often portrayed as very serious, because she deals with a lot of serious issues, not to mention she has studied women studies and understands the implications of the sexist language in the media, so she refuses to tolerate it. Yet, I heard her mention in an interview how the world is such a serious place, it's important we look to laughter and humor to keep sane. I know a lot of activists who think like that. There was a wonderful reflection about what sort of boundaries should be in comedy written in SALON magazine. If you have a minute:

http://www.salon.com/entertainment/tv/feature/2011/06/28/go_the_f_to_sleep_tracy_morgan_updates

I'm updating my ipod as I write this for the first time since my harddrive crashed. I finally restored most my music and decided it was safe to do so. After it is updated, I will listen to my new music while I'm upstairs looking for my camera in a bunch of boxes. We'll see how that goes, but I need it for the many events I have coming in the next month!

This moved me

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/14/humpback-whale-video_n_898859.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000008

Forced Update #2

Again, I have no desire to blog or any idea about what I will say. I'm sunburned and tired from spending a day in the sun at a lake traveling fast speeds. I learned how to drive a jet ski, got up to over 50 mph on a few different occasions. It's nice to be reminded my anxiety doesn't control me as much as I think it does somedays. Tubing behind the jet ski was exhausting. My entire body is sore.

I'm having trouble getting motivated to study for my exam coming up next week. I just don't value standardized tests. I've been let down by them far too many times, so I learned that I can't let them tell me about my intelligence level. A lot of creative people I know have similar experiences. That's probably why so many of the top MFA programs do not require the GRE. Although, I want to apply to as many schools as possible so that I have a better chance of receiving funding. I don't want something as trivial as a standardized test score to keep them from giving my writing a chance.

I broke a giant leaf off my aloe plant to rub on my sunburn. That thing is a monster. My mom suggests getting rid of it, or breaking a bunch of it off because it's out of control. I agree that I have to do something. I can't just let it take over the house, but I'm sentimental about it. It seems metaphorical of my healing. It's not like I fear that I will regress if we cut down or get rid of the plant, but it's nice to see a medicinal plant just thriving like that. Reminds me how far I've come.

This entry is boring me, so I'm sure it's boring to read. I just don't have much to say these days. I'll get my writing spirit back, I'm sure. I just need a break sometimes. Thanks for reading.

Forced Update

I haven't felt like updating. I still don't. Working all day in an un-airconditioned school, studying for the GRE, sleep problems, and trying to maintain somewhat of a social life has left me feeling inadequate or just too apathetic to play with words most nights. Speaking of words, studying for the GRE is expanding my vocab, and I kind of like it when I actually sit down and do it. I have not put enough time into it and that needs to change soon.

I love my kids from work. They really give me a reason to live. Now that I'm healthy, I have many reasons to live, but these kids are the most obvious one that slap me in the face via hugs every day. All I have to do is love these kids, and they think I'm like the greatest person in the world. They adore me and even need me. It is such a privilege to be able to work with such loving kids every day. How many people get--literally--tens of hugs every day. I can't count how many I receive. Yesterday, Mom and I went shopping. She purchased clothes and shoes for several of my students, and I wish she could see their faces when they get them. The one girl's shoes were too small, so Mom bought her an entire size bigger. We had to exchange those today, because even those were too small. She was wearing shoes a size and a half too small! Imagine how sore her little feet must be. I can't even imagine.

I'm back into Marya Hornbacher's book, Waiting. I think it's just the tip of the iceberg in a new style of writing about spirituality for non-believers. There's all sorts of non-traditional spirituality books, but I love that this is only about inner love and wisdom within us and within others that we can find by better connecting to ourselves and others. It focuses on approaching AA as a nonbeliever, but I am excited to keep working on my memoir that will fit in that sort of category. Hers is insightful, and I think she's really onto something that will catch on.

I went camping this past weekend with some friends. My family ended up joining us for a day at the beach and grilling out. It was a lovely surprise, considering I had little expectations for the weekend. We also cooked out at Grandma's on Monday. It was very nice, but I couldn't stay awake. I'd been having trouble sleeping and then slept even less while camping. I napped most of my time there. That Casey Anthony trial was playing on the TV while I slept. It gave me awful nightmares. I hate watching stuff like that. I couldn't stop thinking about it until I went to work the next day, and the little ones took my mind off such violence and suffering. I'm terrified by murder, even more so by people who are capable of committing such acts. I didn't know how to feel about the verdict, because I don't believe in the death penalty. I didn't want the young woman to be sentenced to death, but after witnessing all of the inconsistencies and apathy toward the death of her daughter, it was clear she has sociopathic tendencies. Sociopathic people terrify me, especially the extremist ones who are capable of murder or covering up a murder. I'm not sure where I believe in mercy or justice. I believe in both, but it's a tricky line to walk. I am scared by the results of the trial, but thankful her parents don't have to deal with watching their young daughter being executed. That's more punishment for them than for her. It's just an all-around awful situation for everyone involved, and I hate knowing and witnessing that sort of thing. It's awful how the media flocks to these tragedies. I couldn't get away from it. I couldn't get it out of my mind. Now, maybe you understand why I can't watch scary movies. My brain tends to put scarring things on repeat, and I have enough dark thoughts that I don't need anyone else adding violent imagery into my head.

Well, I guess this proved to be more of an update than I intended. The hardest part is writing that first sentence.