Tag: school

Hairy

Does anyone else ever feel that men growing out their facial hair, just to show that they are men and not boys – I’m thinking of young teachers or coaches especially, but this applies to more men than just them – is stupid?

It supposedly makes them more manly.

It suddenly occurred to me, walking up to work this morning, that m the female equivalent would be women not shaving their legs and underarms, just to show that they are women and not girls.

By the male standard, then, my not shaving my legs and underarms would make me more womanly, as only a woman could grow such hair – girls just can’t do it the same, you see…

Therefore, I am more respectable, because I have hair on my legs and under my arms…

Or am I?

I certainly call bs on the whole affair, men’s facial hair included.

You are a man, when you are a man, and facial hair’s growing ability does not affect that.

Likewise, you are a woman, when you are a woman, and no hair growth affects that.

Hair is simply hair.

Being a man or woman is independent of such a minute factor, and I just wish people could get that, and stop doing the stupid ‘facial hair makes me look like a man’ thing…, because it typically emphasizes the individual’s youth, creating an opposite effect from that which was desired.

Just my thoughts early this morning, as the sun rose (which, too, is a funny idea).

Post-a-day 2019

Si tu savais…

Si tu savais… comment je doute… parfois

Si tu savais….. ce que je ne dis à personne d’autre….

Si tu savais…..

There’s this song by the francophone (I think he’s actually French, but I’m not sure) singer who goes by the mononame Corneille, called “Si tu savais”.

The title means, “If you (only) knew” (the only being a matter of what the phrase is intended to mean by its use).

Those lines were repeating in my head tonight, and had me wondering about the song and about my life.

I don’t know the rest of the words to the song – I first heard it when I knew very little French, so not much stuck, and I still get lost in the rhythms nowadays, because I’d grown so accustomed to doing it when I was back in high school – and so I can’t even guess knowledgeably as to the purpose or meaning of the song as a whole.

I only know my own initial interpretation based on those few lines and the desperate, melodious, melancholy that is the tone of the song, the feel of the music.

To me, he is singing, as I mentioned, in a sort of desperation and pain… either he wants to tell her everything, but he is afraid she won’t want him anymore, or he fears telling her everything, because she thinks he is the best thing ever, but he is telling her in the song how he has faults… or, even, she thinks he is full of himself, and he is telling her how he is not… or perhaps he is telling her how he only shares openly with her, but she doesn’t realize it, nor that it means he loves her… whatever the case, if only she knew… how imperfect and insecure he really is… how much he loves her… if only she knew…

Whatever the case, these lines hit me in a new way tonight – considering the song as though it were based on someone’s real life, I asked myself how it could apply directly to my real life.

When would I say the words, “If only you knew,” in such a manner as Corneille in this song?

What do I not say to anyone else?

What would I want to say to the love of my life and not to anyone else?

What do I wish I could say to others, and not have to worry about being discarded, neglected, expelled, despised, etc. from whatever facet of life those listening occupy?

And it is this last one that really got me the most, I think.

I wish I could share my greatest faults and fears, the way the werewolves do in the Twilight books – just get over it, please… it’s a girly story, sure, but the creativity is definitely there, and you comedy bits are all over the place, making it a true delight even for me, not just an okay story, as so many declare it (mostly after only seeing the movies) – where they can’t hide their thoughts, feelings, emotions from one another, and the whole pack accepts the rest of the pack willingly… they all know the minds of the rest, and they all still respect, love, and care for all the rest (even if some do get on others’ nerves from time to time).

In that kind of world, we wouldn’t have to worry about our secrets – everyone would know everyone’s mess-ups, and so we’d kind of have to get over it pretty darn quickly, if we wanted to function in life.

I enjoy that people no longer are allowed or able to judge me by my age (because I don’t give it to them anymore), but I would be willing to give that up, in exchange for all my sins, so to speak, to be washed away from concern of being (1) found out and (2) held against me.

Could you imagine?

I almost can, but not very well… I think I’m mostly just afraid of the idea, because I don’t trust people enough…

J’ai pas trop confiance en eux, en fait…

Post-a-day 2019

Mother-Daughter

“Do you see me ever having kids?”

Mom considers for a few moments, then answers in all honesty, “Yeah,” nodding her head, which is tilted to one side, an after-effect of consideration.

“…I mean,” I whoosh my hands downward together, going from just in front of my chest to around the tops of my lazily outstretched legs, “… having kids.”

We both smile at this as I say, “Which is different from just having kids…”

I have discussed the idea of adoption much, and my mom has participated in some of these conversations, so she knows what I mean, and why I clarified.

We share a few moments of silent chuckling before she renews her, “Yeah,” and then we smile and chuckle silently some more.

We are at my friend’s baby shower.

There have been various games and activities throughout the evening, and she and I are sitting at a table over to the side, mostly away from the current conversation and action of the party.

She is filling in one side of the paper, on which was sentence starters regarding wishes and thoughts we want to share with the baby-to-be.

I have been casually adding to the other side on the paper, on which we had done a baby name game in which we took only letters from the first names of the mother and father, and had to come up with as many names as possible.

Some of mine were just words, but I wrote them anyway, as it helped the brainstorming process along, as well as added a funny aspect to the game.

(Examples of words: Barista, Tank, Narita, Kirin, Stink, Bad)

Though we weren’t in the current action of the party, we were enjoying ourselves, and also enjoying that we got to do it together.

When the gift-opening began, we stood by where we had been sitting, so we could see over people’s heads to the gifts and my friend and her husband, but without actually having to go sit in the mix with everyone else.

Neither one of us discussed this, of course – we each just did it naturally.

I think that part of it is a matter of our being able to comment freely on things, without having to worry about offending anyone, on the likely chance that we find something silly or tacky, or that we are reminded of something absurd.

Even if we each were alone at such a party, we likely still would end up in a similar location relative to the crowd and gift-opening area.

A bit later, just as I was stepping away to go floss-brush-floss to put my aligners back in, I commented quietly to my mom, “I love how, even though no one is here to hear is, we always have a running commentary going on over here.”

Before I’d even said the word ‘commentary’, we were both already laughing silently, but heartily, and she was nodding her head almost vigorously.

But it’s true – we always have a running commentary on things.

No, we don’t say it aloud when it could offend, and no, it isn’t always bad commentary – not at all.

It is merely commentary.

Usually, though, it is commentary that sends us both into fits of giggles at least a handful of times in an evening.

Until last night, I hadn’t realized that my mom and I shared this trait.

Yes, we share many things, and we have many similarities, but I had never noticed this one until last night.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that we had enough to say that we knew at least half the room would not find funny, and so dropped to more of a whisper on several comments, bringing attention for me to the fact that we were doing it in the first place.

And mind you, we don’t have nasty comments we’re exchanging – they just aren’t always event-appropriate.

For example, some people were discussing Disney Princesses and how they have advanced in diversifying the princesses, and how they might advance next.

My friend who is pregnant loves Disney, and had commented about dressing up as a Disney Princess before.

My mom and I exchanged the idea of, ‘Guess she can’t do that right now,’ and chuckled.

‘Yeah, teen pregnancy princess just doesn’t sound right..,’ and our silent chuckles increase, tears now considering making appearances in our eyes…

And then, upon further consideration, we add, ‘Unless Disney wants to take a big step in furthering its diversity, and somehow have a young, super-huge-pregnant Princess…., do a Juno plus Disney Princess… but I don’t think they’re ready for that one yet…’

‘Not for a while…’

Yes, the ideas are absurd.

No, we are not mean-spirited with them at all.

And, since people don’t necessarily know that we are merely brainstorming and thinking of different things, and then simply sharing about them with one another, they could become quickly offended, thinking we are trying to be rude or nasty in some way.

We love Disney and Disney Princesses.

We also know lots about the ideas to progress the diversity of them, and the struggles Disney has had with complaints regarding them.

We support the movement of diversifying the Princesses, but we also love the original Princesses, too, and understand and accept the reasoning behind them all.

We also find humor in just about anything – not in a bad way, but in a genuine way… we do not demean through the humor we find, but typically find increased fondness of the topic after finding that extra tidbit of humor in it.

Anyway, I’ll not bother with the explanations anymore – I notice that I’m worried someone will be offended – I already know that my thoughts offend people, and that’s a big part of why I tend not to share them with most people.

Perhaps that’s how we discover truly the people who love us: by sharing our thoughts with them, and their still showing up in life, without judging us harshly and leaving us out to dry, so to speak.

I’ve said for years and years that judging is natural for us – it is only human.

The difference comes in when we recognize that it is only a judgment, and not necessarily the truth.

At that point, we can choose freely whether to accept the automatic judgement we have made, or whether to set it aside and be open to discovering who and what a person truly is.

When people tell me, “Don’t judge me,” just before they do or say something seemingly silly or stupid or absurd, I often let them know something akin to,

‘I’m definitely going to judge you – I can’t not – but I won’t hold it against you in any way.’

Yeah….

Anyway, I’m off to bed.

I slept half the day today… my mom woke me by knocking on my door at 9am (I’d gone to bed by 11:30pm at the latest), I was tired most of the morning and midday, and then I passed out on the sofa around 3pm, only to wake up to eat some peaches a while later, and then fall right back asleep until around 6pm… and I’m still exhausted right now, struggling to get through this.

I guess my early morning workouts are taking more out of me than I thought, and sleep really is somewhat like a gasoline tank or rechargeable battery, able to be replenished at any time down the road, but demanding refueling after so many days of running on low-power mode… if that makes sense…

Anyway, goodnight, World… hasta mañana.

Post-a-day 2019

Flying solo

Riding home on my beloved scooter, having a slight struggle with the very outer edges of my eyelids, due to exhaustion, I considered:

This is the end of a very heavy week of work, the first full week of school since it started last week… It is Friday evening, and I want to go meet up with friends and do something to celebrate the completion of such a week of work… I want that happy hour evening, that friends dinner, that wine night or movie night or game night…. that night of friendship and release…

Instead, I am heading home to prepare and eat my dinner, to shower, and then to go to sleep… and I don’t even have anyone to whom to relay this information – I was not invited to any of those desired Friday evening and night activities… I’m not even sure who might have invited me if I were…

This feeling, this experience, I notice, is familiar… to when?

I believe to the last time I was teaching full-time in the US…

I work hard all week, throwing myself wholly into school (aka work), staying as late as it takes to accomplish everything I want and need accomplished for the next day or week, and then I head home on Friday afternoon, in an almost rush to free myself of the school and the feeling of needing to work…, and I head to where?

Home…. to eat and shower and go to bed…

I usually don’t mind doing this – in fact, I’ve done it multiple nights these past couple weeks, and I have been grateful for it, and have even turned down an idea of going to spend time with a friend here or there – I wanted to go home and be alone and go to bed to be prepared for tomorrow…

Fridays, however, have a way of reminding me that I am not normal, and of suggesting to me that I am missing out on one of the best parts of being an adult.

Personally, I loved having ultimate frisbee on Friday afternoons in college, where we all could release the stress from the week, free our minds and bodies, and have a wonderful time with other people having a wonderful time all together… and I long for something like this.

I did not activity (yes, I have made that into a verb here) with almost any of them outside of Friday ultimate frisbee, because we weren’t exactly friends, but we had camaraderie and mutual interest in playing ultimate together as a cap to the week, and that was all that mattered.

For me, it is the community aspect that I miss so much, the piece for which I long on a Friday night like this one.

My week has been good, but full of work and high schoolers, and I want some adult camaraderie and love now to finish off processing whatever my mind needs to process to be finished with the week…

I know that this is not what I would find at a bar, or with a group out drinking their troubles away.

It only minutely lessons the pain of feeling so alone in the world, however.

In these experiences of feelings of desperation at my own failure to have friends and activities for a Friday evening and night, (or any time, but they most often happen around Friday night no-plans nights) I notice an extreme desire to get anybody (almost, anyway) on the phone to talk to me…

But I know that it won’t fulfill what I am seeking, and so I make an effort not to call anyone – it seems somehow unfair to them, only to call them because I’m in need, not because I genuinely want to talk with that person in particular…

I don’t even call my mom, because all I really want is for her to hug and to hold me and make me feel loved, but I know she likely will be home, watching some show or other with my stepdad, and will want to get back to watching that ASAP – she is really usually only good for talking during the day, if I want to hang out with her over the phone (or in person)… it only would make me feel even less loved.

…….

And those were my ponderings as I drove home this evening, hoping to avoid the imminent rain storm that seemed almost too close for comfort on a scooter.

I did as I’d planned, visiting the grocery store after I swapped the scooter for a car, and then returning home for dinner and a shower, and then getting ready for bed.

I did end up calling my mom just a bit ago, but it was for a genuine question, and we discussed that briefly and then hung up, my lingering being quite minimal for once, as I was conscious of my desire to be with my emotions on this, and not to aim for escape by talking with my mom.

Alas, here I am, still having spoken to almost no one, but having listened to almost two hours of my current audiobook while I was cooking and eating and cleaning up.

And, mostly, I feel okay.

Yes, I still want to have someone with whom to check in, whom to love, and on whom I can rely to love me… so I don’t feel amazing, exactly, but I’m okay.

Better, actually, since I didn’t call anyone – this is a new step for nights like this one, and I think it is a really good step for me and my life.

And, on that, I’ll sign off, so I can stretch and read and sleep ASAP!

Goodnight! 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

Wakey-Wakey

Some days, your body just takes over, and, if you’ve been taking really great care of it, it does this responsibly.

Today, I missed three alarms.

I still made it to school on time, but just barely.

You see, for the fifth day in a row, I was scheduled to get up just after 4am this morning.

At that time, I was scheduled to go downstairs and eat my first breakfast, then participate in the first part of the morning meditation that would be happening, starting at 4:30am, and then, with an extra backup alarm to make sure I leave in time, ride my bicycle down the road to the gym for a 5:30-6:30am workout.

I then would return home, shower, eat a second breakfast, now post-workout, and head off, with prompting from my third alarm, to school at about 7:05am.

This, of course, did not happen.

I awakened at 3:15am, in desperate need of a potty break.

I went downstairs and used the bathroom, then came back up to bed, grateful that I had another 45 minutes to sleep, and I passed out again.

I eventually opened my eyes to find some sunlight shining through my skylight curtain, and I panicked.

I jumped up and checked the time: 7:02am.

I threw on my clothes as fast as possible, and rushed downstairs.

I managed a basic breakfast smoothie, did my teeth-cleaning routine and used the bathroom, all in a borderline frenzy that was somehow calm, too – I kept my head about me, but I moved as quickly as I could manage effectively and safely.

Fortunately, the weather was expected to be rainy in the afternoon, so I was already planning to drive my car to work, which is significantly faster than taking my non-highway route with the scooter.

Phew!

I somehow arrived to school, used the bathroom, let the kids into class, swapped out what I’d brought to school with what I’d needed for class from my office, and greeted students before the bell rang for class to begin…

By the grace if God, I suppose… by my name.. 😛 🙂

And… it was a wonderful day.

First day of school nightmares

Walking onto campus this morning, I had a sudden concern that I was wearing the wrong clothing – it wasn’t actually our last training/in-service day, but, rather, the first day of school… and that meant that blue jeans were not welcome…

I thought really hard on it for a couple or few seconds, and determined that no, it was not the first day of school – the boys really are just dressed up to come take their photos for their school IDs and the yearbook; that’s why they’re here at all, even.

Phew!

What a relief that was to be clear on…

And it had me recall the idea of the horrible dream of showing up in a terrible outfit, possibly one akin to the Emperor’s New Clothes, or being late, and jus my generally being horribly embarrassed on the first day of school by getting something terribly wrong somehow… and how, as a teacher, that fear-filled dream never real goes away.

I still tend to have a nightmare-ish dream before the first day of school.

Typically, I forget the first day of school, and so show up way late and wearing the wrong clothes and utterly unprepared for classes, somewhat in a dual daze and panic…. this morning was almost the real-life version of that dream… fortunately for me and everyone else, it was not.

I’m curious as to what dreams will come tonight to me… we shall see… (probably, anyway, though we’ve no guarantee I’ll have any or will remember what I have)… 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Yearbooks

***Update on the ant bite: My bicep still rocks, but the bite swelled and split open this morning, only to close up, turn green in the middle again, and start swelling again… we’ll see how it looks in the morning, now! (And the coach’s bites did not turn green, he said, but one was hurting a lot.)***

We now return to regular programming.

There is a guy working with me who graduated high school with my youngest brother.

I pulled out the yearbook from their senior year today, and had a brief look through the senior photos.

I enjoyed how much hair this guy and my brother both had in their photos, and how they both have almost none now, and both keep their heads shaved (though my brother uses a razor, and the other guy only seems to buzz it as short as possible).

One thing I noted was that their service work locations seemed almost stereotypical for each of them…. interesting, perhaps.

Something bigger, however, was the other people I found in the yearbook.

I crossed names of people whose faces I knew not, but whose names I knew well from my brother – how fun to put faces to the names, even almost two decades after the fact.

And then I realized that I finally had the opportunity to look up and remember my brother’s best friend’s full name – I forgot his middle name a few years back, and haven’t recalled it since…. I just always thought it was fascinating, because he was the fourth with the name, so he had a “, IV” at the end of his legal name.

And I use the past tense here, because he died at the start of their sophomore year of college.

It was drinking and a bit of drugs at a party, and everyone thought he’d simply fallen asleep, but, of course, he hadn’t… I’ve always remembered most that my brother was invited to that same party, but chose to work on his absurd amount of homework, instead (thank you, UT Architecture program [not for the first time]).

And so J—– died at the party, and my brother spoke at the funeral, at the request of J—-‘s family, and he did a wonderful job.

My mom and I also attended the funeral, along with a lot of people.

After the funeral, since J—- had always said that he wanted to go out with pinwheels and fireworks, we (a handful of select people that happened to include my mom and me) went to an open land area across from a movie theatre, and set off a bunch of little rockets and a few big shebang fireworks (the pinwheels had decorated the casket) – it was a true party and celebration to send off J—- and to say goodbye together.

When I came across his name today, I was delighted – I finally have it(!).

And then I gave his photo a good look.

And it was almost terrifying as an experience, though terrifying just is not quite the right word…

It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I’d seen a photo of J— since around the time of the funeral – I’d only had mental visions of him since then.

It was weird to think that, u like my brother and that other guy, J— had not aged from this photo… maybe two years’ worth of aging, but that was little different from the boy who sat in the frame that is in front of me now.

These were posed senior portraits for the yearbook, and so they each are looking directly at the camera…, directly at the viewer of the photograph… J—- was no exception…

And it was spooky, knowing that those eyes, so true and almost penetrating in this photo, were no longer here, no longer existed.

And then, it had me wonder how many people in this book, this yearbook are no longer around?

And that was perhaps even spookier…

I had to move on to other things then, both in terms of productivity and in terms of an emotional desire to step away from the increasing discomfort and potential sadness of what sat before me, visually and mentally, at that moment, and so I closed the book, put it back in its place, and walked away.

I soon had tears in my eyes, and the feeling of hollowness just behind the bottom of my ribs was growing.

Now, hours later and many tasks and conversations later, I feel less afraid, and more aware of the fleeting aspect of life, the circumstances that allow us a promise of a chance at everything, and at a chance of it all going away at any moment, in a moment’s time…

On my way up to the house where I am housesitting tonight, I passed their church, where J—-‘s funeral had been… I think of him every time I pass it (though that doesn’t happen too often), because it’s the only thing I’ve ever attended there…

……

I don’t have anything insightful about this… I just wanted to share…

Post-a-day 2019

Wanna see my ant bite?

“Man, check out my ant bite.”

‘Yeah, I think I have another one over here, too.’

A few further similar comments occur, as we all smile and chuckle and giggle in response to the very first comment, which had come from the coach to me, “Did you just check out your bicep?”

I had looked up, grinning, delighted, because it was totally true.

I was examining my ant bite – which stung and was swelling badly, by the way – when I suddenly noticed how defined my bicep was, which was just near the ant bite, within direct view, and currently flexed, due to the position in which I was holding my arm, so that I could see the ant bite best.

I then opted to poke the bicep a few times, just to see how it held up, since lots has happened since I’d last checked it out.

It was at this point that the coach, B——-, asked me if I was checking out my bicep, and the merriment began amongst those of us who were on our two-minute break in the workout rounds. 😀

It was delightful.

Now, however, the center of the ant bite is green… those were beastly ants this morning.

I’ll have to check with B—— as to whether his bites have turned green, too… eew.

And we weren’t even lying on the ground or anything, either.

Ugh… ants, please leave me be.

P.S. It is 19:50 here right now, and I am getting ready to go to bed and to sleep – I am exhausted from my 4:20am rising today to get to the gym from house sitting north of town, before going hoke to shower and dress, and then going to work… the sun is still out, and there is even normal light coloring outside for daytime lighting right now, but I’m going to bed anyway.

As I walked into the bedroom just now, and noticed the lighting outside (and commented aloud about it), I had a feeling of being in that episode of The Simpsons, where the kids are being taken care of by Flanders, because CPA or someone declared Homer and Marge unfit parents… Flanders is putting them all to bed, and the shades are down in the room, but the kids say they aren’t tired, and then release the window shade to show full sunlight and children running around, playing outside…. that’s the scene in which I find myself at the moment… I loved it then, and I find it hilarious all over again now. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Lacrosse

It came up in a comfortable conversation today – a conversation I had wanted to have and was afraid to have, and which I began anyway – that I coached lacrosse and helped start the women’s program at a school where I previously worked.

The conversation ended with the other person informing me that he would get back in touch with me soon to follow up, and with my now talking with the head of the men’s lacrosse team.

Now, it seems, I might actually become an assistant coach for the men’s lacrosse team this year… how fun and crazy is that?

And all I did was ask about someone’s running these days.

Truly, though, I have faith proven in this case – I felt that it was perfect to go ahead and speak to him, and it turned out to be just that: perfect.

Thank you, God.

Post-a-day 2019