Not So Different

I understand you.
(This is always true.)

So Why Am I, Why Am I, Taking Them Still

It was only three weeks ago that I was still very much in charge of a gaggle of high school sophomores. I lived in a wood box where I had no privacy or time to think for myself. The two minutes I was putting on my pajamas while the girls were still washing their faces in the bathhouse were precious. Sacred. I just want to think about myself for five minutes I pleaded to no one. And then one would be there. At the edge of my bed. Leaning on it and excitedly telling some story about the soccer game she played or how welding that silver charm went, and it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, it'd be nice. But some days I'd still clasp my hands behind my back and squeeze.

But some days I wake up in this desert, and all I can do is think about myself. And wish I didn't have to. But it's just me in my rectangle. The shower curtains are blue ships, sailing away.

Rainy day in MI.

Give me somethin' to believe in, a breath from the breathin'.

So write it down. I don't think that I'll close my eyes.

'Cos lately I'm not dreamin', so what's the point of sleepin'?

And at night I've got nowhere to hide.

Here!

Sunday evening, I went on a four mile run downtown. I was booking it. Had just left improv, Ethiopian with Cobra impending.

I wore my navy heart tank and a sleek straight braid. I ran down the cobblestone sidewalk of popular shops and eateries. All the restaurants with patio seating, doors open wide. All the young dads in spring training hats, sippin' brewskis.

Everyone walks slow. I cut through the sea. I do not mind. The air is saturated with Vacation. This is everyone's vacation. I can feel your brunch bellies and you looking around, being enchanted by the pitchfork t-shirts in the windows, by the bike racks and the ficus trees.

I live where people indulge. Here! Right here!

Spring Writer's Workshop. 2012.

Ran north on Mills Avenue,
listen to the engine roar.

Never About

IT IS NEVER ABOUT WHAT IS HAPPENING.
IT IS JUST NEVER ABOUT IT.
IT IS NEVER ABOUT THE MATH TEST.
IT IS ABOUT ME BEING AS UNDERSTANDING AS POSSIBLE
WHEN THE KID IS TRYING TO EXPLAIN
HE NEEDS MORE TIME TO TAKE IT.
THE TELLER DOES NOT CARE
ABOUT THE MONEY IN THE DRAWER--
JUST THAT HER BOSS KNOWS SHE KNOWS
IT'S ALL EVEN.
THE WAITER DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR FOOD
BUT DOES CARE ABOUT YOUR GOOD TIME,
PARTIALLY BECAUSE OF YOUR MONEY,
AND PARTIALLY BECAUSE OF, YOU KNOW,
BEING A DECENT HUMAN.
IT IS NEVER ABOUT HOW I FEEL
IN ACADEMICS AND EVERYTHING ABOUT
I FEEL IN THE ACADEMIC BUILDINGS.
NOBODY IN CHARGE OF MY FUTURE KNOWS
WHO I AM YET. IT'S NOT ABOUT THAT.
THEY MIGHT NEVER.

Different People

Row boats full of my abroad group in Japan. 2008.

A student whose writing portfolio I graded came up to me in the library today to talk about some of his work in person. Most students don't even see my name on their feedback. It's like they get a form in their e-mail from a divine source.

He thanked me for my criticisms, and we chatted about the pieces a bit. He smiled and went on his way. Then, I had to think for a while. I know it was mostly good feedback...but was I ever harsh? Was I ever vague? I remember filling out this student's paperwork, but I know he was in my final stack, a stack I was slopping through well-past quitting time last night. Did I cut a corner?

I hate that mindset--the mindset that groups of people--students, family, republicans, Indians, trannies, Twilight fans--are just one. It was so lazy to let myself fall into that. One more form to fill out, one more student, same comma errors, one more positive remark after one more constructive.

From now on, when I give student feedback, I will imagine the student stopping me in the middle of the library to talk.
When I perform I will consider every single seat filled with a different butt.
When I drive I will peek at every car and know the person at the wheel has a unique family.
Every Sour Patch Kid I eat has its own soul.

Just kidding about that last one. That's stupid.

Inertia

Kath & Me, Last Week

Yesterday I was looking at my planner and feeling like I didn't want to do any of it. Any of it! Not the meetings with my office, not the coaching of the children, not the fun plans for dinner, not the midnight Harry Potter showing. Literally nothing. Besides improv. Even then, I was ambivalent about driving into the city again.

I realized how little I would do if there were no consequences. I'm sure I would start with just a couple activities I liked and it would slowly wither to nothing. No matter what you do it can feel like too much. And, so, I'm grateful for my health which inspires me to run, economics that fuels my jobbing, kindness which pushes me forward into those social situations....because it's all really good for me and plain good. So, I guess I am glad. Even though as I type this I feel the overwhelming wish to never move again, I think back to yesterday and the good it brought. So, I guess I'll do stuff now.

Through the mirror of my mind, time after time,
I see reflections fo you and me. Reflections of
the way life used to be.