Without fail, every once in a while, I revert to my 16 year old self who ardently believes that in order to feel loved, valued, and like I belong, I have to have some sort of plans on Friday night with other people. Sunday through Thursday, who cares? Stuff happens. Bedtime is earlier (for us Monday-Friday workers at least). And Saturday, it's always good to have plans but feels less urgent than Friday night for some reason. This 16 year old self that I speak of doesn't just want to have plans with anybody, but specifically with someone who is really interested in seeing me and spending time with me. This 16 year old self wants to be wanted soooo badly.
Tonight was one of those nights. I could feel my 16 year old self creep into my mood around dinner time. She kinda took over, noticing how I was included in other people's plans but not an important element of those plans. She noticed how other people enjoyed having me around but could've done without me. I felt this happening and did my best to resist the take over. Had a short cry. Played a few songs. Tried to engage in meaningful conversations. None of that worked. My mood was taken captive by her and there is nothing I can do about it. So I sighed to myself and resigned myself to hanging out with my own loneliness until it decides to pass.
So often I spend energy trying to avoid feeling lonely. Too much of the time when I reach out to people these days it's not because I care about them or what they're up to or want to offer something to them. It's because I don't feel like being alone and want them to give me something. This reality makes me feel sad and a bit ridiculous. I mean, c'mon! Really? You don't have anything to give right now? Still?! I remember times in the past when I enjoyed making something for a friend, doing something kind for someone out of the blue, being totally interested in important events in other people's lives. It's heartening to remember that I indeed possess the capacity to relate to people in a selfless way. And I have to hope that these tides of grief will turn eventually and I will naturally have the desire do my part in loving the people around me. And perhaps in the meantime I'll even be able to motivate myself to practice random acts of kindness right now, even though I feel all needy.
I don't like feeling needy. It annoys me. I annoy myself when I get this way. And so I try to alter my emotions in some way, trying to fashion for myself a ladder out of the hole of loneliness. But I remember something Henri Nouwen once said about loneliness. He said that we should seek to befriend it. It will always be a part of life. We won't ever be able to avoid it, even if we've found someone to intimately share our life with. Rather than pushing it away and constantly trying to manipulate life in a way that will allow us to never have to feel lonely, we should befriend our loneliness.
So how do I do that? I don't really know. I suppose it means letting it be. Sitting with it? Doing something good for myself? Writing about it? Just being with myself until it passes.
This all feels very ho-hum and not spectacular. I don't do well with these humdrum necessities of living. I very much prefer the fireworks and parade-like excitement that comes with other elements of life. But I suppose I have to figure out how to live with the mundane survival of loneliness. And perhaps, with this clear sky dotted with dim stars, and this cozy living room recently trimmed with a wreath and Christmas lights, I'll find a way to make it through. And this loneliness that seems latched on forever right now will perhaps no longer be sitting in the base of my chest with a certain weight when I wake in the filtered and shaded December morning light.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tree Scarves: and Exercise in Oral History and Listening
We talk so much but never say anything. And then sometimes we say more than we know.
My family has this oral tradition that year after year we reenact. And even though year after year we tell the same stories, I always get some of the facts wrong. You see, my mom's mom made a Christmas tree scarf when my mom was a little girl. It is a piece of red fabric (felt, I think) with little symbols all around the edge, one for each year. The piece of fabric goes around the base of the tree, like a scarf. The symbols represent something significant that happened in their family life that year; a baby was born, a kid graduated from high school, etc. So my mom decided to carry on that tradition with our family. Underneath our Christmas tree every year we place our own tree scarf. When we decorate the tree, Mom reveals her choice for this year's symbol and then we go through the entire litany of the symbols from years past. It's almost like a liturgy: the opening words explaining what this year's symbol means, the remembrance of the past, then the placement of the scarf. Mom's symbols range from flags from countries we've visited to representations of our flower girl hats in a cousin's wedding. And no matter how hard I try, I just can't remember the significance of each and every symbol. So that's why every year we tell the story. It's the story of our family history. Being the youngest, I take the first stab at explaining the significance of the symbol for each year. Then Karly, my older sister, corrects me or fills in the details. Finally, Mom and Dad correct her and fill in the final details. Mom always chooses the event to symbolize and makes the little felt piece herself. And when I have a family of my own, I'll start my own scarf and do the same for them.
This year (number 36 of their marriage, if you're curious) we realized we could also tell the untold story of the underbelly of family life, remembering the difficult things about our family history. We eagerly remember the significant and happy things, and sometimes even the not-so-happy parts. But beyond that, there are darker, forgotten, scary truths that we don't want to face together and don't want to remember together. The year mom and dad were separated. Sure, we'll acknowledged that. But what about the reasons why they were separated and how they chose to celebrate my birthday when Dad wasn't living with us? Mom and Dad's 25th wedding anniversary trip to Hawaii. Sure, we'll remember that. But how about the crazy party my sister threw at their house while they were gone, the puke stain still on the carpet downstairs? Do we want to remember what bad kids we were, what big disappointments we weathered? We've probably each categorized and processed and dealt with those occurrences differently, holding onto the details that are important for us to maintain, and not necessarily the whole story or the most accurate account. I suppose we could, together, turn the tree scarf over and on the other side symbolize the things that caused us hurt and brought up questions and made us mad and turned us bitter. But I suppose it is possible to talk a lot and never say anything. And I suppose the family history I want to have is one that includes the ups and downs, but doesn't have to hold onto resentments and bitterness. Yes, give me the reality of our difficult and very human history. But I'll let the fear and anger run their course and then subside and move on.
And I'll listen to my older sister tell the stories, Mom and Dad filling in the details. And somehow, with the tree lit and our hearts all in the same room (grumpy or grieving, as the case may be), I'll call this yearly liturgy something close to love.
My family has this oral tradition that year after year we reenact. And even though year after year we tell the same stories, I always get some of the facts wrong. You see, my mom's mom made a Christmas tree scarf when my mom was a little girl. It is a piece of red fabric (felt, I think) with little symbols all around the edge, one for each year. The piece of fabric goes around the base of the tree, like a scarf. The symbols represent something significant that happened in their family life that year; a baby was born, a kid graduated from high school, etc. So my mom decided to carry on that tradition with our family. Underneath our Christmas tree every year we place our own tree scarf. When we decorate the tree, Mom reveals her choice for this year's symbol and then we go through the entire litany of the symbols from years past. It's almost like a liturgy: the opening words explaining what this year's symbol means, the remembrance of the past, then the placement of the scarf. Mom's symbols range from flags from countries we've visited to representations of our flower girl hats in a cousin's wedding. And no matter how hard I try, I just can't remember the significance of each and every symbol. So that's why every year we tell the story. It's the story of our family history. Being the youngest, I take the first stab at explaining the significance of the symbol for each year. Then Karly, my older sister, corrects me or fills in the details. Finally, Mom and Dad correct her and fill in the final details. Mom always chooses the event to symbolize and makes the little felt piece herself. And when I have a family of my own, I'll start my own scarf and do the same for them.
This year (number 36 of their marriage, if you're curious) we realized we could also tell the untold story of the underbelly of family life, remembering the difficult things about our family history. We eagerly remember the significant and happy things, and sometimes even the not-so-happy parts. But beyond that, there are darker, forgotten, scary truths that we don't want to face together and don't want to remember together. The year mom and dad were separated. Sure, we'll acknowledged that. But what about the reasons why they were separated and how they chose to celebrate my birthday when Dad wasn't living with us? Mom and Dad's 25th wedding anniversary trip to Hawaii. Sure, we'll remember that. But how about the crazy party my sister threw at their house while they were gone, the puke stain still on the carpet downstairs? Do we want to remember what bad kids we were, what big disappointments we weathered? We've probably each categorized and processed and dealt with those occurrences differently, holding onto the details that are important for us to maintain, and not necessarily the whole story or the most accurate account. I suppose we could, together, turn the tree scarf over and on the other side symbolize the things that caused us hurt and brought up questions and made us mad and turned us bitter. But I suppose it is possible to talk a lot and never say anything. And I suppose the family history I want to have is one that includes the ups and downs, but doesn't have to hold onto resentments and bitterness. Yes, give me the reality of our difficult and very human history. But I'll let the fear and anger run their course and then subside and move on.
And I'll listen to my older sister tell the stories, Mom and Dad filling in the details. And somehow, with the tree lit and our hearts all in the same room (grumpy or grieving, as the case may be), I'll call this yearly liturgy something close to love.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Mark Kozelek takes it there.
Beware, a bit of music nerdiness is ahead. Stop reading if that sounds boring.
In Mark Kozelek's version of "I Am a Rock", the arrangement makes for a different mood than the Simon and Garfunkle (S&G) version. It starts a bit more uppity and even happy, with bass, drums, and electric guitar all in pretty much from the start. His chord progression differences and melodic changes in verse one are unexpected, and it almost sounds like a chorus since the drums start eight note hits on the ride cymbal, but then it ends up leading very nicely into the real chorus. The chords and particularly the bass line do an upward moving progression during the chorus which causes a sense of anticipation, tension, and then release. The first half of verse two is characterized by some pretty accentuated hits on all of the beats by the high hat, and complimented by the bass guitar. Then it breaks that pattern for the 2 lines before the chorus, giving a sense of openness that leads in once again to the chorus which repeats the basic idea of the first chorus, with upward reaching vocals and bass lines. The first half of verse 3 is characterized by repetitive snare hits on beats "two-and" and beat 4. Again, the last 2 lines before the chorus break from that pattern, bringing on the anticipation. The third chorus is the same basic arrangement as the first two.
The song continues on in a similar way with verse 4 and chorus 4. The effect of all the instruments all the time gives a sense of being immersed and full, which is interesting since the lyrics of the song talk about being isolated and alone. The vocals are relaxed, pleasant, and soaring. The last line of the song: "And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries" is repeated 4 times, with just sparse drums and electric guitar and some sort of synthesized xylophone or bells. This is stripped down and feels more intimate, even nostalgic or emotional, compared with the rocking full sound of the rest of the song. It's a sweet last minute of a song that Mark took to a different place. His version is a bit more floaty, peaceful, and happier than the S&G version of the song. Perhaps the sentiment "I am a Rock" is more true for Mark than it was for S&G. S&G's version seemed to be trying to tell the listener "I am a Rock! Don't you get it? I am an island! I am, I swear!" Mark's version seemed to make the same statement with a different tone, one of simply stating how things are: "I am a Rock, I am an island. That's just the way it is."
Either way, both versions are brilliant. I am going to try to do my own cover of a hybrid of S&G and Mark's version. If you're lucky, maybe I'll post a link to it here, somehow. Also, if you want to find Mark Kozelek's version, he did it with Red House Painters. Look them up on iTunes. The song is on their album "Red House Painters II".
In Mark Kozelek's version of "I Am a Rock", the arrangement makes for a different mood than the Simon and Garfunkle (S&G) version. It starts a bit more uppity and even happy, with bass, drums, and electric guitar all in pretty much from the start. His chord progression differences and melodic changes in verse one are unexpected, and it almost sounds like a chorus since the drums start eight note hits on the ride cymbal, but then it ends up leading very nicely into the real chorus. The chords and particularly the bass line do an upward moving progression during the chorus which causes a sense of anticipation, tension, and then release. The first half of verse two is characterized by some pretty accentuated hits on all of the beats by the high hat, and complimented by the bass guitar. Then it breaks that pattern for the 2 lines before the chorus, giving a sense of openness that leads in once again to the chorus which repeats the basic idea of the first chorus, with upward reaching vocals and bass lines. The first half of verse 3 is characterized by repetitive snare hits on beats "two-and" and beat 4. Again, the last 2 lines before the chorus break from that pattern, bringing on the anticipation. The third chorus is the same basic arrangement as the first two.
The song continues on in a similar way with verse 4 and chorus 4. The effect of all the instruments all the time gives a sense of being immersed and full, which is interesting since the lyrics of the song talk about being isolated and alone. The vocals are relaxed, pleasant, and soaring. The last line of the song: "And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries" is repeated 4 times, with just sparse drums and electric guitar and some sort of synthesized xylophone or bells. This is stripped down and feels more intimate, even nostalgic or emotional, compared with the rocking full sound of the rest of the song. It's a sweet last minute of a song that Mark took to a different place. His version is a bit more floaty, peaceful, and happier than the S&G version of the song. Perhaps the sentiment "I am a Rock" is more true for Mark than it was for S&G. S&G's version seemed to be trying to tell the listener "I am a Rock! Don't you get it? I am an island! I am, I swear!" Mark's version seemed to make the same statement with a different tone, one of simply stating how things are: "I am a Rock, I am an island. That's just the way it is."
Either way, both versions are brilliant. I am going to try to do my own cover of a hybrid of S&G and Mark's version. If you're lucky, maybe I'll post a link to it here, somehow. Also, if you want to find Mark Kozelek's version, he did it with Red House Painters. Look them up on iTunes. The song is on their album "Red House Painters II".
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Paul Simon is wise.
I have listened to "I am a Rock" by Simon and Garfunkle like 7 times in the past day. This song is genius. It starts out so innocent and sweet with that little acoustic guitar riff. Then comes a blast of instrumental sound for "I am alone!" The next two lines build momentum, you can tell it's a lead up to the climactic statement of identity = "I am a rock, I am an island!" The words "I am" appear three times in the first stanza "I am...I am...I am." Those two words are so strong and so simple. Perhaps that's part of the reason why God chose them to identify himself in the story where Moses is arguing with him. And yet Paul Simon's statement "I am alone...I am a rock, I am an island" just can't be true and isn't true. It's strength is almost ridiculous. The song is incredulous. Of course that's not an option; to feel no pain, to never cry. But it's such an attractive idea, and that's why we love the song. Feel no pain? Never cry? Hide in my room? Yes! Anybody who has ever felt pain will rock out to this song, sing it at the top of their lungs, knowing intimately that it's not a possibility to live that way but proclaiming it anyways, if only for a triumphant instant that escapes the drudge of really working through the difficult grief of life.
Later in the song the songwriter admits that those difficult feelings are there "I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died." They still exist to him, somewhere deep down. The entire song feels to me like an immature statement of a 3 year old who is refusing to eat their vegetables; they frown and cross their arms, then turn their back on their parents with a huff. Yes, those feelings of love and friendship and pain and crying happened in the past, but I'm building up walls and putting that to rest now. And nobody can stop me! It's satisfying for a moment when we do this as adults. I tend to think that I'm coping, handling it, keeping myself together when really avoiding all the work and all the pain just makes it worse. *sigh* Guess I'll eat my vegetables (or maybe at least some fruit...ok actually I'm just gonna have some Crispix with honey on top). And until I'm ready and strong enough to face all of that (or weak enough to resist it no more) sing on, oh hurting heart of mine, oh hurting world.
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
Later in the song the songwriter admits that those difficult feelings are there "I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died." They still exist to him, somewhere deep down. The entire song feels to me like an immature statement of a 3 year old who is refusing to eat their vegetables; they frown and cross their arms, then turn their back on their parents with a huff. Yes, those feelings of love and friendship and pain and crying happened in the past, but I'm building up walls and putting that to rest now. And nobody can stop me! It's satisfying for a moment when we do this as adults. I tend to think that I'm coping, handling it, keeping myself together when really avoiding all the work and all the pain just makes it worse. *sigh* Guess I'll eat my vegetables (or maybe at least some fruit...ok actually I'm just gonna have some Crispix with honey on top). And until I'm ready and strong enough to face all of that (or weak enough to resist it no more) sing on, oh hurting heart of mine, oh hurting world.
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
things i like most about my job
i get good health care
diane and leslie (fellow SPED IA's)
raechel's hugs
johann's drawings
kelvin's tall towers built out of blocks
soren's friendliness towards everyone (and counting ability)
lillie's singing and independence in putting away her stuff
ytany's help
dianna's concern for those who are crying
devon's humor
coleman's tall tales
coffee during bus duty
talking to theresa
seeing the sunrise
getting off by 3:30
when valerie and i can laugh together
interacting with the gen ed students
play time
student success at something they are working really hard on
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
things i hate most about my job
i hate that i have nowhere i can go to be alone in the building
i hate how needy my kids are
i hate that i hate how needy my kids are
i hate getting spit on
i hate getting on hands and knees to clean vomit, chocolate milk, or yogurt off of the lunch room floor
i hate waking up so early
i hate seeing my kids fail over and over
i hate getting snot wiped on my nose
i hate making my kids cry
i hate being so exhausted
i hate my inability to give them the attention and help they need
i hate hearing the exhaustion in valerie's voice
i hate hearing valerie say "what a jerk" about one of our kids
i hate not having anyone who knows about what i do all day (who is outside of it) to support me or help me
i hate it that i forget to ask God for help during all of this
i hate being at the end of my rope at the end of every day
i hate not knowing how to do better at my job
i hate that i compromise the integrity of my work in order to make it just a tid bit easier for myself
i hate that i am a failure
i hate that i hope that certain kids will be absent
i hate that i feel like i have no control over so much of the things that compromise my situation
what do i do with all of this? i feel like i have no choice but to bury it deep inside, go to sleep, and wake up hoping that tomorrow is somehow better.
i hate how needy my kids are
i hate that i hate how needy my kids are
i hate getting spit on
i hate getting on hands and knees to clean vomit, chocolate milk, or yogurt off of the lunch room floor
i hate waking up so early
i hate seeing my kids fail over and over
i hate getting snot wiped on my nose
i hate making my kids cry
i hate being so exhausted
i hate my inability to give them the attention and help they need
i hate hearing the exhaustion in valerie's voice
i hate hearing valerie say "what a jerk" about one of our kids
i hate not having anyone who knows about what i do all day (who is outside of it) to support me or help me
i hate it that i forget to ask God for help during all of this
i hate being at the end of my rope at the end of every day
i hate not knowing how to do better at my job
i hate that i compromise the integrity of my work in order to make it just a tid bit easier for myself
i hate that i am a failure
i hate that i hope that certain kids will be absent
i hate that i feel like i have no control over so much of the things that compromise my situation
what do i do with all of this? i feel like i have no choice but to bury it deep inside, go to sleep, and wake up hoping that tomorrow is somehow better.
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