My friend

Stayed with Sarah in her apt just outside Nashville last night. This morning (well, it's after 11, so morning-ish) I am sitting at her comp, drinking her coffee, and waiting for her to get out of bed. I am not going to wake her up, but I may just bang on these keys a little louder! Ha!

As we were going and doing last night she and I both had this funny reaction to the night. I mean, here we are, finally in the same place after literally months apart, and instead of painting the town and all that, we were just happy to eat a delicious meal and call it a night. Ha! I know, I am 40 before I am even 30!

Sarah gives awful directions. Yes, Sarah, you do. I mean, the name wasn't even on the sign, and that was a street not a driveway. Don't even get me started on how that "billboard" is completely in the dark and impossible to see in the rain... What's my point? Sarah will always think she is right, I will always think I am right, and our friendship will survive. We will add it to the quiver of stories that we shoot at each other when we are having a rant about how ridiculous we both are.

I miss you, Sarah. I miss knowing you are just around the corner. I miss the funny way we are when we are together. I miss the way you know me. You don't hate or judge, and you know how to tell me I am wrong in a way that I can hear. I don't know, I guess that is what love is. Or maybe I have had too much coffee.

I like to think about us when we are old and wrinkled. Can't you just see us? You will be fully gray; I will be trying out another ridiculous hair color. You will be in some great velvet jogging suit; I will be in a rainbow skirt with noisy bells. We will be sitting together over coffee grumbling about kids and their lack of respect. We will talk about what they wear and how their parents should teach them better.

Thank you for being my friend, and I mean that.

Warm fuzzies

Everyone I run into these days in is in the holiday spirit, and shock and surprise, so am I! There is something in the air that just seems to have people thinking about the importance of family and friends and not so much the pressure of gifts and stuff. I am certain the recession has people pinching pennies just as much as the next guy, and strangely, I think we finally have something for which we can thank Bush. The money crunch is making this a much more personal holiday season.

For those that don't know, I walked the stage this weekend claiming my empty diploma holder in a graduation ceremony enjoyed by close friends and family. The big to-do was followed by lunch at one of my favorite Memphis haunts. During the melee of pork and rib sauce, I took a mental picture that I hope I will remember far into the oldest days I live. Surrounded by loving well-wishers, I felt like I was in the midst of a family I am rarely thankful for having. We fight, we bicker, we forget, we blame, but we also laugh, joke, praise, and celebrate.

For several days I have been working on a project for my mother. She moved from my childhood home to the house once occupied by my late grandmother. Using my winter hiatus to clean out the attic of the older home seemed like a perfect opportunity to do something really helpful. During day three or four of the attic adventure, I found several boxes of pictures from upwards of 40 years ago.

I can't describe just how happy I have been to look through all these pictures that I never knew existed. There are so many pictures of my father and me that I can actually feel an empty place start to fill. One that is especially striking is of me and daddy in the backyard. I must have been 4 or so. He is laying on a sleeping bag, and I am putting sunblock on his back. It is just a picture of me with my hand on his back as he lays there with his eyes closed on a sunny day. I feel all warm and glowy when I look at it.

There is another picture of me and him when I was too little to have too many teeth. I am sitting on his lap while he shows me how to brush my teeth. I am looking directly into his face as he looks into mine. I feel like I am being hugged and held when I look at this one.

There are others that make me cry, and I am just as grateful for those as I am for the warmer ones. For the first time in a long time I am in touch with who I was and who I am. I can miss him and not be as sad as I once was. I don't know the words to describe how good it feels to know and now have proof that he was real and he loved me. My father loved me. He would still love me if he was here.

From the Queen of Passive Aggressiva

Unremarkable me, overly sensitive soul, walking a thin line between pained and painful. Hearing what I don't want to know, wishing I could just be under a rock and ignored. No way for that to happen when a magpie haunts the trees and the eaves. I flew away and built a nest of newspaper and black ink. There with the comfort of unknown origins sits the possibility of anonymity. Yet... the silence is stirred and the stillness broken by the chirping of that now unasked for bird.

Wily-nilly, power-flower take your words away. Leave me alone. Find another peace to piss on and know that I loved you once. Little magpie, I wanted noise and flutter, but that isn't welcome anymore. I need a quiet solemnity that you just can't be.

Once,when friends had flown and life seemed dreary, you were the noise I needed. Now, well, it's just clutter you shove so thoughtlessly my way. Leave me in my nest of newspaper and black ink. Forget my stories. Remember that things were good for as long as they were, but those times are gone. I wanted to grow old with you. Your sound isn't the music it once was. I'm sorry I don't need you. I want to miss you.

Take my name out of your mouth. Magpie, don't chatter about me. Your name is safe with me. I don't desire to hurt it. You are a good magpie. You are smart and ambitious and full of life. You are beautiful and exciting and worthy of all you receive.

Denouement

Wooo hooo! I just gave the final of the finals, and I am just waiting on one or two little things before I am done teaching for 2008!

I am totally going to miss teaching everyday. It has been a blast, and I mean that! Even when I got behind on grading and had to give some things up to get grading done, well, it was still fun. I like what I do, and I am hoping I get to do it for a very long time.

I am looking forward to the opportunity to teach this class again next semester. Now that I have a firmer grasp on the bigger picture of the expected accomplishments for a class like this, I think I can change a few things and make it a much more beneficial experience for my students. At some point during my winter break (read: nap), I am going to rethink my game plan for teaching students how to become better writers. I am also going to look for more ways to make grammar a little more appealing. I know, it is an exercise in futility, but I will search nonetheless.

MIA

Chloe is missing. The day I found out about the cancer thing a white kitty-cat wandered into my yard. In the middle of life-changing news, I sat in the misty rain and coaxed this pretty kitty into eating food from my hand. A real outdoorsy kind of kitty, Chloe wasn't really one to come inside with any kind of ease.

Only recently when the weather snapped chilly did Chloe venture inside mine and Nathan's humble dwelling. She slept on Nathan's bottom bunk, warmed herself by the kitchen heater, and ran from my other cat.

This past Wednesday my brother and his wife brought their dog with them for their Thanksgiving visit. I guess Chloe sensed Sam's canine presence because Chloe has been AWOL since then.

I am so worried about her. I wandered through the woods at the edge of my house looking for her. It has been so cold, and my mind is wandering into dark places searching for possibilities about where she might be.

Hoping for the best, I am picturing her taken in by a family with kids and a mom with a soft place in her heart for strays. Maybe she will come running home soon with a belly full of babies.

Chloe wore a little pink collar with a bell. I keep thinking I can hear it jingling faintly in the woods. When I go in the direction of the sound, I am met with cold wind and rain, reminding me that Chloe might be out there cold and scared.

Underwhelming and necessary

Really happy about the mellow weekend. Turned off the phone, snuggled with my new blanket, and forced myself into not being such a grump. It's starting to work.

Talked on the phone for a very long time to Julie. I think she gets it. I need to think that someone gets it.

Something amazing is on the horizon. That isn't wishful thinking. There will be more about it later, either way.

I am done with Jackson State on December 5th. What am I supposed to do for a whole month? After our long talk, Julie and I decided that a trip down to see her is in order. I cannot wait! I really want this to work out!

Graduation is December 13th with a family thing the night before. Hopefully a few friends can make the cut. It really isn't up to me. That is actually my mother's call. She's footing the bill, so she gets to approve the guest list.

All weekend I made myself work out. I kept waiting for that sweet release of endorphins that are always being tauted as some kind of natural high. That didn't really happen. I did, however, decide that watching season 2 of Grey's Anatomy while on the eliptical makes for a surprisingly productive and surrepticiously lengthy workout. I am a master of self-deception.

Women these days

Finding time to read these days! Picked up a book I bought back in March, but never cracked the cover. If you don't love Chuck Klosterman, that's cool. He has infected the way I write from time to time (probably right now), and he more than successfully gets into the way I think.

Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs is just a collection of his seemingly random thoughts about culture and its influence and media and such and the things he usually writes about in his works. Last night I was reading about how men are reluctant to admit that they all find Pamela Anderson sexy/attractive/pretty. What Chuck says, and I tend to agree, is that men who admit to finding her attractive are either at the cusp of cool or dead in the center of what everyone else is doing. Now, this may not seem like a big revelation, but I think it actually has some worth buried deep inside.

As a woman who is not a man (hahahaha), I see dudes all the time who say that one thing or another is hot/attractive/do-able about some chick. I mean, dudes have different tastes. Thinking that there is something to say about how cool you are based on how trendy the object of your affection is just never occured to me! I feel like such a backwards social component when I admit this.

I remember when Kate Moss was attractive. I remember when that girl from Garbage was attractive. I remember when all kinds of girls were considered pretty, girls who are so far down the list of hot they are now barely remembered. I am thinking about trends of socially pretty.

I like the implications of what Chuck is saying. In these war-torn and economically unfriendly times, who is hot? Is it the matron who will save all the lost boys? Is it the plump version of Rosie who will sustain us all through the famine of social relaxation? I promise to pay attention and report my findings. I am so intrigued by this.

Roads to nowhere

My aunt sends me forwards. Sometimes I read them, sometimes I don't. She has good taste and a wry sense of humor. I should read them more often. The latest one that I dared to open is full of pretty images. The pictures have me thinking about cliches and the depth sometimes hidden in them.

For instance...

There is a coin. It has two sides. They all do. Perspective. Love. Hate. Darkness. Light. Present. Future.

These are both pictures of roads to nowhere. If nowhere is a place you can go, then is it really nowhere?

Losing my religion

I'm losing myself. In light of lessening struggles, who I am is not the clear understanding I once had. I am the girl who overcomes obstacles. Who am I when I am not doing that?

I am almost 30 with the training wheels off for the first time. Who I was and who I am now are just not the same people. This new person does not stand up for herself. This new person does not have anything to offer to a conversation. She talks about herself in the third person.

Today I am beginning a journey to the me I am wthout the weight of the last six years. Maybe it's the change in the air and the world that have prompted me to start a project on myself. I am an amazing person, not the person I was, and not yet the person I will be. Be patient with me. I am learning. Give me credit for what I know. Humility does not make me weak. It is proof that I am strong.

Fall trips

Nathan and I took a trip to Reelfoot Lake this weekend. We had a blast and took some really cool pictures of ourselves.

Single parents understand that there are some quirks about being a single parent that are usually under the radar. One of those things is the fact that Nathan and I hardly ever have pictures of just the two of us, especially when we go on our trips for two.

It's nice that these came out as well as they did, and I already have one above the fireplace.

I also think that my child is mostly awesome almost all the time. So there.

Fishing lesson

My students all want the simple version, but what they fail to understand is that the short cuts are actually more difficult. If they could just pay attention to what I am telling them, then they would be able to cruise through the rest of the semester without the pain of not knowing or the confusion of the fastest way.

It is slowly occurring to me that I am trying to teach hungry people how to fish when all they want is a free meal... Damn it.

Perkins philosophy

Wow! Can I just tell you about Keith? If you keep reading, then I guess the answer is yes. It is completely possible that Keith revealed a little life-truth to me. How you may ask? Well, let me tell you about the hot, sexual-chocolate, muffin.

After a night of chick-merriment, the ladies (Winnie, Liz, and myself) took a drive to Perkins. Sitting in a booth of Liz's choice, we were greeted by Keith. Keith, mind-mannered, thoughtful, and kind, asked us what he could get for us with such ease and grace that I felt as if I were dining on crisp, white linens at a restaurant reserved for the upper-crust. I placed my order for a greasy, saucy treat, and Keith asked me if I would like a muffin, toast, or pancakes.

Now, what my dining companions did not know, I almost always let the server pick my muffin (egads, that sounds dirty!). I looked at Keith and said, "I want you to decide the muffin. Surprise me. It tells me more about you!"

I usually go for the fruity, grainy muffin when the choice is mine. So imagine my reaction when Keith presented me with the most sexual food I have ever witnessed. It was hot and gooey and liquid with its own kind of desire to be in my mouth. The smell, the texture, the exotic presentation of not only the muffin but also an unnecessary cup of soft butter were downright erotic.

This feeling was shared by my companions. We all stared in wild wonder at the sensory overload before us.

Whew... So what does this have to do with life-truhs? Well, here's the thing... Keith brought me the unexpected, the atypical, the unanticipated moment. Maybe that is one of those secrets that rarely gets whispered about joy. I love surprises, so how can I think I know what I want when I know that what I want most is the unknown?

Oh, Keith, you and your hot, sexual-chocolate muffin have given me much to ponder...

Reflection

It's Thursday, and this is my longest day at work. I teach from 9 until 11, and then I skip (well, not actually, but you get the idea) over to the Writing Center where I (theoretically) assist troubled students with their papers/speeches/random literary assignments.

For whatever reason, the day has been a slow one. I had two clients (that's what we call them) come for their sessions (that's also what we call them), and now I am all up in the blogosphere. The sky is grey (gray?) and the room is too quiet. In fact, the only really audible sound is the tappety-tappety I am making on this keyboard.

What's the point, right? I mean, having a slow day at work isn't really news(blog)worthy, is it? Well, I actually think it is, and here is why. The only thing I am actually thinking about is where to apply for jobs and what I am going to make for dinner. Yup. That's it.

Life is outstanding. Remember when it wasn't? Remember when things were dark and horrible, and the bottom was falling out of the best laid plans? Well, I guess I am just being thankful and grateful for those times, because those times makes times like these just that much sweeter.

New horizons

What about that, y'all?

I was standing in the bux line this morning, and the lady behind me said hello. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was greeeeeeaaaaaat. She pretended to wipe a tear and said she was hoping she would feel better about it soon.

I asked my students how they felt. They all grinned at me, and I felt like we were all in the same place at the same time. Do you think this may be the change? Is this the first stirring of a new breeze?

Now I am forgetting about Christmas. It's the countdown to the first day! We have a new person at the helm of a ship that sails on a new wind!

For your consideration...

Here are the only pics I have! Thanks for sending them, Sarah! It was a great night, and I am glad tyou were there!

Fall forward

Such an amazing weekend! I completely forgot my camera, but I will get pics from others as soon as they get around to sending them this way.

I dressed as this scary/slutty/dead Halloween person. The "girls" that usually don't see the light of day were getting lots of attention. It was pretty funny, and I actually liked a little of the spotlight being on me.

What makes me laugh more than anything is just how completely free I have been feeling! All weekend I got to tell people about how happy I am, and I realized that it is a happiness without guilt. Now, I know, I shouldn't ever feel guilty for being happy. However, this weekend I realized that I usually do feel a sense of shame or unentitledness whenever I am happy. (Leave that one for the shrink.) Not this time!

This coming month is full of very teachery things and very careery things that I am looking at in a whole different way. Keeping my fingers crossed about a new thing that could possibly happen. I am also getting geared up for colder weather, some life changes, and another shot at something that could end up being wonderful.

Oh yeah, and I agree with Liz about this other thing. We were at bux today talking about Tuesday. I, too, get chills and want to cry at the prospect of the sweeping change that threatens to happen in slightly more than 48 hours. I don't want to say too much; I feel like that will need another entry. For now, I am looking at Tuesday like a kid on Christmas Eve. This time I'm not waiting for a grandfatherly white dude with a sack full of empty promises and failed policies. I'm biting my lip and looking for a dark man on a white horse with his colors flying. He carries a future unwritten and I want to be a part of it.

This just in...

I passed my comps!!!!!

The news was delivered as follows:

Hey Sarah Beth:

Congratulations! You passed all sections of your exam and are now Master of your own domain. I will get the paperwork organized next week--I think that you need to sign a copy of the form.

Go have a drink.

Jeffrey Scraba

There it is, folks! What else is there to say? Not a lot! It's a feeling like I've never felt before. It's joy unencumbered! Those of you that drink, drink one for me! I am quite happy being "the Master" of my own domain. Teehee!

Freaky Friday!

Happy Halloween! I am really excited about the festivities this year! I am really excited about life in general these days. Tonight I am going to what promises to be a kick-ass throw-down at the Thompson-Clayton house (Like all that sexy hyphenation?). My friends who now live in Nashville will be there. People who I have wanted to meet for a long time will be there. People who have inspirational costumes will be there. People I want to get to know better will be there. Awesomeness will be afoot!

Still no word on how I did on the comps. My breath is bated, but my face is kinda starting to look a little blue.

And the award goes to...

I don't have cancer anymore! The grass is greener, the sky is bluer, and all is as it should be. Everything happens for a reason. I believe that deep down in my heart.

The next few years will include more check-ups than usual, but I will not have to go through cutting on my stuff for quite some time!!!

I don't even know what to say; I am just so happy. I am so very, very, very happy.

Test Day!

Ok, one more cup of coffee, and then I am off to the races! Well, I need to shower first, but then I am gone.

Thanks to everyone who has been calm while I have not.

I wish I could be cool and just do these things without pomp and circumstance. Someone said once that this is just a part of who I am. Sarah Beth freaks out. Maybe that won't always be true. I bet it will be. This energy is a lot of what makes me the me I am, right?

Worrying is an exercise in futility. I will drink my coffee, take my shower, and walk down the street to my test. I will pass and so will this.

Freak-Out pt. 5

This is it! Last day of the freak-out, y'all!

I am going to go to Memphis in just a few short minutes, going to have lunch with some lovely ladies, and going to relax tonight. I am thinking I may try to get to a meeting. I may also sit in my swank room and catch up on Dirty Sexy Money. Who knows?

I do know that I will be looking over my notes tonight. Said I wouldn't, but things change, ya dig?

Aaaahh! It's almost over!

I am so glad the freak-out is almost over. I am exhausted!

Freak-Out pt. 4

OK... Today is the last day of real studying. While I know that I will be doing some looking on Friday, this is the last day where I do it with any real sense of an agenda. I am meeting with a prof to talk about poetry today. I am so grateful for that. I have been reaching to the corners to just talk to people about this stuff. If anyone reading this has been in on the "just talk to me about it" sessions, I cannot thank you enough.

After averaging mid-semester grades, I made an offer to my students that must come have been inspired from the kindness being shown to me lately. I am giving them a 7-day window to turn in everything they might have missed. They get 7 days to bring up their faltering grades, and then the window closes. Think that was big-hearted of me? Well, I certainly do.

My insides are so coffee-stained. If you see me after Saturday, hug me. I know, I don't usually do that sort of thing but do it anyway. I usually know what I need, but I hardly ever seem to know how to ask for it. That knowing part of me is telling whoever is out there, "Give this girl a hug."

Freak-Out pt. 3

Yesterday I worked on an actual question that I had created which is supposed to look like the test I am going to take in just a few short days. After I was fnished looking at the answer, I turned it over to a lady I work with to get her feedback on what I had written. I think writing knowing that it is going to be read helps me write better. That is just a theory. I mean, I am pretty sure that someone reads what I read here, but I don't put as much effort into this as I do for my practice questions. Isn't that how it is supposed to be? Who knows?

I was also insanely busy yesterday, and I think that influences how I write. I only say that because I was talking with my friend Courtney yesterday, and we were talking about anxiety. I really think that I am pretty good with making my nerves work for me. I am starting to tell myself that I will go into that room on Sarurday, and I will force all of these jitters into my fingers and my brain. All that energy has to be good for something. Right?

Freak-Out pt. 2

Met with Liz last night and just talked about the stuff the questions will possibly cover. That has helped me feel more at ease. Psht. Ease is not the right word, but I guess that feeling is a goal somewhere in all of all this anxiety.

Realized too late that I taught the wrong thing yesterday. I didn't teach anything incorrectly. I taught the Wednesday thing on Monday. I guess their fear or their ignorance of the syllabus kept the kiddies from speaking out about it. Oh well. I think I can give the apostrophe talk as well as a killer prompt for in class writing all in the same class. Huzzah!

I must say that my coffee input is at grad school capacity once again. I realize that I had been missing that ridiculous flush of energy with an actual goal in mind. I am pretty sure after this MA thing is finally behind me, I am going to look into getting back into the conference thing. That is probably the coffee talking.

Freak-Out pt. 1

It's mostly just that I am freaking out and stuff. I am sitting here trying to analyze poetry. My stomach hurts and there doesn't seem to be enough coffee in this hemisphere.

I randomly chose a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and I have to tell you, I have no idea what it is about! What am I supposed to do??

Everyone keeps telling me that I will be fine, and I really want to believe them. I am also seeking distractions at every turn. I am a crazy person. Do not let me fool you. The things that are going on in my head right now are the makings of the next great work of creative non-fiction. For real, y'all.

Another trip to the vagina HQ

I went to the doctor for the latest roud of "poke around for cancer" tests. This time instead of going for a piece from each section, they decided to go for a large chunk that covered the entire cervix. Maybe that explains why I feel like I have been run through with a sword. That is what it feels like.

The doctor was actually nice this time around. He cracked a joke or two, asked about details he remembered, and let his intern do most of the work. Dr. Branch stood next to me and talked while the intern did the cutting. I would never let him know how nice it was just to have him there distracting me with questions. The shooting, burning pain was just more tolrable with another person there just talking to me.

Friends who call and text and visit are just the icing on this shit-cake. They really make it all seem so much less awful than it is. This time around it all feels worse, but my friends have stepped up that much more. They keep up with how I am and seem to pay attention to the ridiulous needs I have. Pain shared really is pain divided.

For the record, it still amazes me when boys do what boys say they will do. I doubt Brian will ever know just how much it meant to me when he came over Monday night. I knew all day that he wouldn't. I still think he was thinking of ways to get out of it. Maybe my feelings like that will pass with time. When he was there, standing there at my door, it just made me feel like I was worth it. I know, I sound like one of those snivelling females who seeks worth through the recognition of others. Well, it's true.

Getting ready for the exam while I work on healing. It will be here in less than two weeks. I am freaking out. I also doing what I do when I have things to do. I have cleaned my kitchen, organized recipe cards, watched too many shows on dvd, and cooked too many meals. Oh well.

Empty words to fill with meaning

Today and yesterday I had my students work on a paper topic that is mostly for me and mostly for them, even though they don't know it yet. I began the prompt for their in-class writing by talking about how language is loaded and meaning differs from one person to the next. We talked about the word "green" and how one person's green may not be the green of another person. I drew a bowl on the board, and we filled it with words that hint at what green is to them.

As I led them into what they were going to write, I erased all the green stuff, and I stood close to the board in order to hide what i was writing. I had written the word "patriotism" on the board. When I moved away, I was met with a collective sigh that just about broke my heart.

I asked them to write what they thought about this word, what is means to them, how they understand it. I have looked at the submissions from yesterday, and I can already see the trends. They are associating it with freedom and the military and nationalism.

Mostly, I am just crossing my fingers and hoping for something that stinks of insight from my second class. There are so many faces in these classes that just don't give a fuck about anything we are doing in this country.

I figure I have two options. I can either invest in the space program so that I might have a place to live when these people are in charge. Or... I can work my ass off trying to get through to at least one or two of them enough that they carry the message of activity and involvement to others. This choice is an exhausting one, and I know that is the path I choose for now.

How long before I give up? Will I be old before my time, with wrinkles of unrewarded effort, before I finally throw in the towel? Will I look back on these words and remember a time when I had fire? I hope these words will still ring true decades from now. I hope.

Parental Advisory

Mmmmmm.... mmmmmm...... ooooh........ yessssssss!!!

Oh, hello, um, hi. Sorry, I was just reliving yesterday's Indian food experience. My foray into the deep amazingness of Indian cuisine leaves me with a post-orgasmic glow that rivals the best bop I've ever had. Seriously. It was just that good.

Yesterday, I learned about the way I will be taking my comps exam as well as the general form the questions will take. It's not that I think I can't do it, it's just that I haven't ever taken such an important test. This determines so much, and I am extremely ready for this part of my life to be calmer.

I think Indian food may be the secret to world peace.

Pilgrimage!

Today I go to meet with the guy who is charge of my comps exam. I still can't get one of the profs to send me her syllabus. It irks me that she won't send it or even indicate that she has received my emails. It also irks me that I can find all of the ones I need, but I can't find hers.

I get to go to Memphis with two of my favorite people, and they are going to introduce me to the wonderful world of Indian food. I know I am going to love it, and I am super-stoked about being with the foodies on my virgin attempt.

Today the kiddies get to experience my joy and passion concerning subject/verb agreement. If they can just sit tight and deal with it, I am sure they will learn to love it as much as I do. Ok, they won't, but I will. My happiness is all I am really concerned about anyway. Ok, that isn't true either.

I am nervous about the meeting today. I am nervous about my test. Even though Liz tells me it isn't that hard, I feel like it will be. Ugh. This will all be over in just a few short weeks.

Friday steam

Kids these days... My students are fabulous one day and well, not fabulous the next day. Today they ran from one end of the spectrum to the other, and I am a little bit at a loss about how I feel about that. If they didn't need to learn, then they wouldn't need me. I like to be needed. Why, then, am I so frustrated when they need so much more than I could ever give them?

They needed proper high school educations. At what point do I throw in the towel and say that this is beyond my help? When did being dumb and uncaring become so frigging cool? When did the people who couldn't pass Algebra become the math teachers? The same can be said of the English teachers.

I want to go to the area high schools and talk not only to the kids but also to their teachers. The teachers need to get their heads out of their asses, quit complaining about how no one gets paid enough, and invest in the future of the world by actually educating its eventual adult population.

The all-important dollar sign just seems to play too much of a part. Today I seem to think it contributes to the declining educational status of high school students. That's all I am saying about that. For now...

My so-called post-modern life

Without a center or a real focus, I am walking in a direction I really don't understand. Do you ever feel like you are a part of something bigger? Something apart from yourself? Try as you might, you just can't see where you fit in the plan.

It sounds like I am looking for redemption, a purpose, a place to put my feet. Maybe that is true. With all of the scenarios and questions lately, I have begun to feel like my life is not my own. Maybe I am feeling my life for the first time, and this is what it feels like. Who knows?

"It's just where I am" seems to be the default response. I am in a state of being, but it is a being that changes. It isn't enough of a change to be movement, but isn't static from day to day, minute to minute, even the seconds lack similarity.

The pushing, the shoving, the warring within all leaves me exhausted. What am I fighting? What realization am I forcing myself to deny? To remain blind to? That certainly is how I feel in this moment of calm questioning.

Calm. I will look for it, but I will not be as frantic as I feel. I will slow down. I will continue to look for answers, but I will also wait and see if they come to me when I am silent and ready. I am not waiting on the cosmic fortune cookie, but I am waiting for the ghosts of old souls to whisper their secrets to my willing ear.

Parenting 101

Last night was one of those parenting moments I knew would happen, but I was not prepared for it all the same. Nathan was fine, he was talking about dinosaurs and kid stuff when he suddenly got that look on his face. It's the look that suggests he is about to cry. He did cry. Nathan hardly ever gets weepy.

He started talking about how he misses his dad, how kids pick on him at school, and how he wishes we could move to Georgia. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do. I asked him if he wanted to call his father, which he did, and I let him walk away to have a more private talk with his dad.

Bill, Nathan's father, isn't a bad guy. We weren't ready to be parents, we weren't ready to live together, and we knew we weren't going to be in the parenting boat together. After Nathan wrapped it up with him, I took the phone just to catch Bill up on what happened before the call. Bill said he wuold try to get to Tennessee the next time there is a government holiday. I hope he does.

At this point I am so willing to swallow my bad feelings and general discontent just to see Nathan know that his dad loves him and that he would be here if he could. I wish we could find a way for them to spend more time together.

It is so hard to be an adult and a parent and a person who does the right thing. It's even harder when there are so many versions of the right thing. I am going to offer the phone to Nathan more often. Maybe if Bill and Nathan talked more, they might have a stronger bond. Maybe Bill would try a little harder to get up here to see his son. That isn't supposed to sound as snarky as it does. Bill was always an out of sight out of mind kind of person.

Nathan is getting older. His feelings are maturing, and I am in danger of losing him to the black hole of adolescence. I don't want my baby to grow up. I don't want to grow up, either.

Life things

Son is great, students are fine, job is good, friends are wonderful, love-life is what it is, I am still who I am. Here are some pics of recent events of fun-ness.

Kids these days

My students are writing about the current political waters, and I am so thrilled to see such an amount of genuine interest. They actually wanted to go to Oxford and attend the debate, going so far as to suggest a class field trip. I know, they just wanted to get out of class to go. This class meets on Tuesday and Thursday, so I think they still wanted to come to their favorite writing class and, yes, their favorite writing teacher. Ha! Narcissism wins again!

Another big test is coming

I should also just go ahead and say that I am preparing for my written comps. I keep hearing that I shouldn't worry about this process, but you know me. I am a worrier about all things academic. Today, I emailed the profs about getting the syllabi I need in order to complete the necessary paperwork. The fretting has begun.

If you see me with a book in my hand, talk to me. I am sure I will welcome the distraction. If I wanted to actually get this done, I am sure I would just work in a quiet place where I can actually get work done. You know what I mean?

Dork squared

I am just going to go ahead and say that what will appear below may in fact resemble a pre-teen's diary. You have been warned.

Hehehehehe. yup. I totally just did that. Thanks to Liz and her "will to power" I am pretty much ridiculous about this guy. He does what he says he is going to do, he has his own ways to let me know he cares, and he totally puts up with all my crap. He is a good daddy to his son, not freaked about dating a girl with a kid, and he is ok with dating a girl with cancer. It wasn't until recetnly that I realized just how tall an order I was expecting from another person. It's amazing that he wants to put up with me the way he does.

It takes a very special person to deal with the ridiculousness that I bring with me. It's not just that I have a lot on my plate, it's more that I have some pretty special ways of dealing with my life. Anyone who doesn't run for the hills when I talk about a pie-chart of thoughts for the day and the percentage of which are occupied with thoughts about him is soooooo worth keeping around for a little while, you know? Eh, you probably don't, but that is ok, too.

I am learning about how dealing with different can be the best thing that has ever happened to me. Now, if I could just slow down and enjoy this ride, I think I might just see that life is shadows and light. Life is what happens when the colors bleed together, run outside the lines, and get murky in the paintbrush water.

I need a dictionary

I introduced independent and dependent clauses today, and I am hyper-aware of my comma and coordinating conjunction use. I am also a little giddy at the use of so many yummy grammar words. I got to say "conjunctive adverb" today, and it got me a little excted!

This weekend threatens to be fantastic. Liz, Dusty, Brian, and I are all going camping. Don't ask me about Brian. I will only tell you things that might not be true after the trip. I can only say that I am starting to see that I might actually deserve to be with someone wonderful and that he shows all the signs that he might possibly be wonderful. He is also showing signs that he moght not be wonderful which is why I am cautiously optimistic.

That was a lot of info after I just said I wasn't going to say anything about him. I am so inconsistent... Can a person always be inconsistent? Is that an oxymoron? Oh shit, now I am an oxymoron? Damnit.

Insignificant and Trashy

This weekend was a roller coaster. It has me thinking in song lyrics. That Rolling Stones song about how you can't always get what you want kind of fades in and out of my head. There is another one that keeps sounding. The lyrics aren't that great, but the idea is pretty solid. The song is about how no one wants to feel insignificant. I guess that is how I have felt this weekend, more than once and in different situations.

My mother is always telling me that I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I got to tell you, I never know what she mean by that, but I promise not to wallow in this for very long.

While on an errand for my aunt, the people that loved my grandmother started and just about finished her memorial service without me. Words don't get there, you know, in that place where all the sad is. I had been holding on for so long, ready to release that grief when I would feel her ashes slip from my hand. Only I didn't get to do that. I felt so small and overlooked. I know, I know, I am a baby and I need to just suck it up. I promise I will.

Why doesn't everyone speak the same language? Why is it so hard to understand what women want and what men mean? I just want to be looked at and longed for and understood. I know, it's a tall order, and I am evaluating my expectations. Keep you posted.

On a happier note!!! This weekend's party was fantastic!

If you are speechless, I totally get it. Liz's White Trash Bash was the most wonderful fix for anyone wanting fun and hotness coupled with Twister and Sangria. That was an insanely awesome throw-down that puts some serious pressure on the up-coming Halloween and Christmas shin-digs.

In other news, The Jackson Sun announces that Halloween is now it's own season. Stay tuned. I am sure that Groundhog Day will be the next deserving holiday to earn it's own season status.

The results are in...

There was a time, not so long ago, when I looked at the title of this blog and thought it funny that I really wasn't talking about the cancer thing all that much. I guess I got into a safe place and stopped letting it run my life. I will be looking for that place again it seems.

Today I learned that the cancer wasn't completely removed and that I am back to square one but on a much more mangled square. I am having another colposcopy on the 13th of October and then another "procedure" at some point in the future.

How do I feel? Deflated. Bored with this. Done. Really pissed off. Futile. Stuck in a rut.

I have good friends and a better outlook than I did the first time around. I have a better idea of what to expect and the questions to ask. This is not the end. Oh no. It is the beginning again.

Going back again...

I am going back to the doctor today to talk about the stuff they cut out of me a few weeks ago. Why am I still freaking out about this? I guess it's just the part of me that is always waiting for the storm clouds at the end of a perfect day.

Think of me today. Thanks.

The Secret Sharer

After a long and searching talk with Liz and her Bunny, I am feeling a little vulnerable. Seems like when the skin is thin and the self is visible that all the things I fear are as close as I imagine them. Most days I feel certain that the mask will slip and the world will see me for the fraud that I am. Will I ever be smart enough? pretty enough? connected enough? loved enough? Yes and no are answers that seem equally likely.

It just isn't ever enough, whatever it is, to make me feel whole. It's a ridiculous search when I don't even know what I am looking for so intently. Am I even looking for anything? I have so much, have survived so much, endured so much. Who am I to want anymore than what I already have?

I want to be the kind of person who doesn't feel undeserving. That was a pretty backwards way of saying that I want to feel like I deserve to be happy. For the longest I have tried to convince myself that happiness is an illusion created by politicians and greeting card companies. Is it possible that there is some joy at the spaces between suffering?

Jibber-Jabber

Does anyone know anything about this Berg lawsuit thing? I am under the impression that this guy is a whack-job, but is there any truth to what he accusing? Let me know, ok?

Hehe, this weekend was awesome. I am reduced to junior high lunch whispering and blushing when I think about how awesome this weekend was. I am goof. I am stutter. I am under the table and laughing at me.

There is also this increasingly ridiculous 90s play list that keeps sounding in my head. I feel like listening to all the CDs that survived high school, but then I remember that I was a real musical chameleon in the mid-90s. Oh yes, if you lost your Ace of Bass CD, do not fear, I have mine.

I am feeling like the Queen of the Dorks. Actually, no. I feel like the dork who sits at the end of the table in the Queen's house. I should sleep. The head is mush and the words make no sense.

Before it begins...

The weekend is almost here. I am crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. For the first time in a long time I have these things to anticipate. Ever the chicken little, I know that the sky will fall and my hopes will be dashed upon the rocks of disappointment that litter the shore of my experiences. Ugh... I am just going to look forward to the weekend with as little expectation as I can possibly have.

Wish me luck.

While the chicken bakes...

Just a few things...

This weekend RAWKED! For a girl who doesn't drink, I spent lots of time in bars this weekend. I just needed to put that out there. I had a t double e double r double i double f double i double c c c time with Liz and Dusty and Alison and Brian and the other couples. Watching what people do from my sober perch really isn't as austere as it sounds. I think I have more fun than anyone. Someday I will sell my secrets.

LOL at McCain's VP's real-life. I don't think anyone saw that one coming, least of all the lawyers that spent "hours" interviewing Miss Sarah.

I am ridiculously happy right now. Remember when I was sad? Well, I am not sad. Taught this morning, worked in the Writing Center this afternoon, picked up Nathan, and now I am about to get dinner from the oven. Oh yeah, and I am not dying from cancer.

Sarah came to town this weekend. I am happy she is doing well and thrilled she had time to come say hello. As soon as I can, I am going to bring a little terror to Nashville.

Buzzer!

Whaaaaaaat?

Y'all, did that just really happen? It's like when we are sitting at the bux and a woman walks by in one of those outfits. You know what I mean. Our collective jaws drop and we stare in disbelief at the train wreck with a two-tone, double decker weave and a leopard print mini-skirt.

So... when McCain picked a woman as a VP, well, yeah. Whaaaaaaaat??

I know at some point I said something to someone about people voting for Barack just because he's black. Yup, I totally said that. Well, you know what? McCain improved by like, I don't know, A THOUSAND PERCENT in about 10 seconds. And why is that? Because he picked a woman? Yup.

Remember in high school when all the cool kids wore hypercolor? I do. And then all the uncool kids (read: me) got hypercolor shirts. Suddenly hypercolor wasn't so cool anymore. Now that there is minority status on both ends, maybe we can actually look at the issues!! I am so excited!

Sorry I am all over the place with this. McCain picked a woman. I bet Barack is wishing he had picked Hill now. Dude, he kinda got one-upped by McCain. Ha! That's like getting beaten in a fight with a one-armed, little person. A blind, one-armed, little person.

Baracktoberfest

Meh. I'm just not there, y'all. The cliches, the ridiculous "you know you love me cuz I'm so down" accent, and the attitude. What I mean by attitude is the way he belittles the last 8 years and John McCain as easily as breathing, but he offers very little about the actual plans he hopes to put into action.

He just keeps talking, and they just keep clapping, and I just keep wishing I felt as good now as I did the other night. It probably is the part of me that wishes it was her up there, but it is also the part of me that can't live through another term of half-hearted attempts at (ugh) change.

If I never hear that word again...

Someday I hope to look back at this and berate myself for disliking the man that made America a better place. I hope...

Mrs. Clean

He's got some tough shoes to fill. He will never be as good as she would have been. Why isn't Hillary our nominee for President? Watching her right now, listening to all of her genuine desire for a better America, I just wish this was her party and not his. I swear, I am all teary and weepy just thinking about how close we were to having the right person in the right place.

Who is better for the job? We will never know. The speculation and bias will always be there with the constant what ifs and maybes. These things will keep us from ever knowing if our President is the best one we can possibly have. This world is so corrupt. She knows that. She is part of it. He is, too. I just think she is better about using it against itself. You know what I mean? Look at her life. She knows how to clean up messes. We need that.

Revisited

So I am feeling more and more like my old self (for better or for worse), and I feel like I can finally say a few things that have a feeling of, dare I say it, optimism to them.

The job? Yeah, I am still in shock over that one. Three days ago I was overwhelmed with the the sense that I was joining the ranks of the permanently searching. Today I am wrapping up the final parts of the syllabus for my classes. It is surreal. For real.

The cancer? Man, oh, man. Seeing it like that in that cup just changed it all. There it was. This thing that has been on my mind since May. There it was. This thing that had kept me up at night, made me sad, made me cry, caused me to think about things I had never wanted to consider. Ugly, rotten, moldy, and small. The small is what gave me the calmest and eeriest sense of completion. I am not empowered. No. I am humbled, over and over again. That thing brought me to my knees. That thing gave me a new perspective. That piece of awful gave me a new wonderful. Words won't get where I need them to go. Somewhere in that cup was an old view, a misunderstanding realized, and a piece of me gone forever.

Cue the music? Let the credits roll? Nah. Turn the page. That is what I am feeling. Watch the next season creep into the picture. Feel the rays of a dying sun. Smell the leaves go from pungent green to mellow gold. Taste the chocolate beneath the candy shell.

I am taking a lesson from my Grandmother today. I am going to live it like it's short even though I am nowhere near done with it.

No shirt, no shoes, no cervix

Le sigh... There is so much I could say, but I really lack the desire or energy to get gushy about any of it. A summer spent soaking in suppositions all lead to today. The whole thing ended today. After a painful morning of actually smelling my burning cervix, I got to see my cancer in a bottle. It was insanely cool. Ridiculously humbling. Terrifying. What did it look like? Have you ever seen a grape rotting in a bag? The white mold, slightly fuzzy, covers the fruit while some sections reveal what looks like a yummy, juicy grape. That's it. Well, a grape from the bottom of the rotten grape bag. It was kind of smooshed.

Pain and agony later, I already have great news! I got a job at JSCC teaching developmental writing. I have 2 sections, one that meets at 8 am on MWF and another that meets at 9:25 am on TR. Slightly problematic is the fact that I have in-service tonight from 4:30 until 9 pm. Ugh.

I need to rest, and so I will. My insides kind of feel like someone put a cheese grater inside me and went to work. I am looking forward to organizing my syllabus and planning the semester. I am happy to have seen my cancer in a bottle.

What a looooong, strange trip it's been.

Counting down

The "procedure" is just around the corner, and I am dealing with it.
My stomach hurts for no reason. (Yeah, right.) My cuticles look like they have been through a paper shreader. My lip is tired of being chewed. Ugh.

What it didn't say

I didn't get to know my grandmother for long enough. My mother married her son at a time when I was just beginning to fix my broken life. I was a single, uneducated mom and I needed a place to live. I was so nervous to ask her if I could live in her old house. She barely knew me, and it was a request I would have been petrified to ask of anyone let alone a woman I didn't really know. And so I asked her. And she said yes. She said yes like it was the most natural thing in the world. She said yes to a stranger who was in need of something she could give.

Who was this woman? Who was this amazing and compelling and giving charmer? We all have different ways of describing her. A mother, a grandmother, a friend, a bowler, a teacher, a story-teller, a gardener, a cook, a saver, a fighter, a survivor. She was a single mom before there was such a thing. She understood hard work and wasn't afraid of it, no matter where it took her. She stood at the bottom of mountains and climbed until she could savor the view. Even in her 80s she had youthful optimism. She was made up of such a delicate recipe of experience and inhibition.

We all have our stories that we love to tell. I remember sitting at Grandmaw's house watching Tony tinker with her seldom worn hearing aid. I remember how we all laughed when the squeak was intolerable and she sat there with a smirk. That smirk!

How I will miss Grandmaw's smile. It said so much! It radiated genuine mirth at life's funny ways but it resonated with this feeling of I-have-learned-from-this-and-you-will-too-but-you-are-going-to-have-to-figure-it-out-on-your-own. I got that look a lot. A lot a lot.

Her birds, her books, her flowers, her plastic sacks, her Mistys with the butts cut off, her insurmountable presence that has affected the lives of too many people to count. Her force, her determination, her strength, her humor, her knowledge that life is short no matter how long you live. For those that knew her, you know that there isn't a list of qualities and idiosyncrasies that would ever be complete when it comes to describing her.

She is in us, in all of us that ever listened to her stories or heard about her. We carry her sweet soul with us. On those days when the world is just too much, we can think of her. Think of her driving her big car in her sparkly hat, cigarette in one hand, sunglasses on. We can remember the Fay Yanessa we knew. The one woman who was so many things to so many people.

We're on drugs

I encourage you to look at this and see what thoughts come into your head. Tennessee's place on the list isn't a big shocker. My first thoughts were of course influenced by my current state of affairs. Where are people getting the money to pay for their scrips? Also, I thought about how medicine is viewed differently in those states lower on the list.

Nathan is a pretty healthy boy. When he does get sick, I really hate going to the doctor because I know they are going to give him and antibiotic as some kind of cure-all. There are so many documented cases of antibiotics that kids become immune to because of over-use. Where do we draw the line?

And crazy meds... How many times has it occurred to me that my problems wouldn't seem so big if I had a chemical in my blood calming the effect? Where did this idea come from? Is there a bigger problem lurking beneath Tennessee's drug-dependency? I think there are several.

One that I am going to suggest is that we are increasingly dependent on a science we don't understand and that we lack the ambition to live life with an attitude of intolerance for complacency. Dig that.

Full Circle

Hey! The air is fixed in my car!

Nathan started school on Friday and had his first full day today. He is going to the school I went to for 13 years. Certainly I have reservations, anxiety, and general unrest about my son going to the school I hated. I am trying to deal. In the end, I do not doubt that Nathan is receiving a wonderful education.

Friends are getting their lives in gear and I am hopeful about mine. I am enjoying this crazy-good weather. Even if it rains tomorrow, I will find a way to enjoy the outdoors.

They called today. They moved my appointment up from 2 pm to 8 am. The knots are forming. The fear is rising. The "procedure" cometh.

Summer Sun

Whew! Everyone is saying it, but I might as well chime in. It is hot out there! Last week the air went out in my car which made me feel simultaneously miserable and ungrateful. There are people all over the world living in horrid conditions, and I am the tool worried about not having air in my otherwise working vehicle. There is this big part of me that knows I am in no place to complain. But this other part...

I turned in resumes to two different places last week. The first one was for a job in Memphis teaching ESL. No, I am not qualified. Sadder still is that this detail is not really standing in my way with this job. People from other countries are so much better at learning English as a foreign language that just about any native speaker can teach them. When I think about how I struggled through Spanish and Latin I feel like a douche for having the convenience of having experienced instructors and complaining that it was too hard.

The other resume went to one of my formerly attended institutions, Jackson State Community College. I have an "in" over there and am hoping that she has enough pull to get me at least one little class. With these adjunct positions the notice about the job usually doesn't come until a week or so before classes begin. So now I wait and do not even attempt optimism. I am a wreck hoping that I will get one of these, and then even more ridiculous that I am actually hoping to get them both.

Got to go on both of these job searches with a lovely sheen due to the AC malfunction. I think the heat index was 105 the first time and 101 the second time. I actually apologized for my appearance during the sit-down with the lady from the Memphis office. Jackson to Memphis without AC kind of shows, if you know what I mean.

Keeping my fingers crossed and as much hope as I can stand. I went to see The Dark Knight this weekend and there was one of those lines about it always being darkest before the dawn. Yes, it was much more poingnant when coming from the mouth of that guy who played Harvey Dent, but I have decided that is just how I am going to have to look at this. Big changes are coming, I can feel it, and I am hoping for that same feeling of a sunrise to wash over me when it does.

I am thinking back to those days before the school bug had bitten me. I used to stay up all night doing all sorts of things and then I would watch the world wake up, shedding light on the mess I had created while it was asleep. Later on, I remember pulling all-nighters at the Smith computer lab getting my American Lit paper finished at the last minute. When I would open the doors, the sun practically mocked me for not being in better charge of my time.

These days the sun is the source of some very similar feelings. I just need to think that this time, when the sun does finally come up, that there will be something new with it. If I can survive how bad it has been lately, then I want to finally bask in its rays.

It's funny. I think I am suffering in my little un-airconditioned car, but all I really want is the light and the heat of a new day to find me. The dawn is coming I can feel it. Until then, I guess I will just have to roll the windows down!

Mommy Dearest

Today my mother said she was tired of the way I am always a burden to her. I'm not looking for pity. I don't even want you to hate her. I will get over it and we will go back to our corners.

After I told her I didn't get the job I interviewed for last week, she kind of got angry and said she would have to work until she was 90 because I couldn't get my act together. She's right about how much I need her. It's pathetic for a so-called grown-up to rely on her mother so much.

And I don't have to feel good. There is nothing that says I am supposed to be happy. I'm trying and the I feel like I am doing the best I can. I will work harder. She is the parent I have, and we have been through worse.

There isn't a lot of love between us. These days it feels more like obligation. When she is old and my brothers are too busy, I know I will be the one that takes care of her. I won't see it as a burden.

I don't ever count my mother among my blessings, and I feel like maybe I should have, and that maybe if I had this wouldn't be as bad as it is. I really do think that if I am not grateful for something that it will be taken away. It isn't healthy to say that this is my fault, but is it self-righteous to think that I have no faults in this?

A lot of this is cryptic, and someday when I can say what it is that I learned this week, well, then it might make more sense. For now I feel like a darkness has come over me. I cannot wait for the day when I can look back on this time in my life and be astounded about how I came through it all.

For now, I will make at least one step forward everyday. Baby-steps or giant leaps, as long as I am moving forward, I will be getting out of this.

What I Aint Got

I am in the bell jar. Deep in a funk that knows no bottom. Aint got no job, aint got no prospects, aint got nothing but a bitter feeling that the last 6 years have been a wash. It's when I get to this place that I start to do really dumb stuff. What kind of stuff you might ask? Well, for example...

Looking for people that I don't need to even know anymore and wondering how they are doing. Allowing myself to wax nostalgic for something that was only ever disaster.

Beginning projects that I have no way of finishing and not doing the things that need to be done like dishes and cleaning in general. If you have been to my house lately you can see evidence of either projects or undone messes in every corner.

Checking job sites and classifieds for every kind of employment that I don't need to have. It really is amazing just how many "jobs" that are adverstised are actually aimed at making the poor poorer. Anyone who is looking for a job right now should know that there is no such thing as a job that requires only 20 hours a week and promises you 6 figures a year.

If you really, really know me then you know that I have some things standing in my way between me and a job I want. I am looking for a hacksaw and a blowtorch and maybe some of those nukes in order to destroy that road block. I need connections, baby, and man oh man, I aint got those either.

Looking for some inspration, so here are some other things I aint got:
Aint got a man bringing me down
Aint got to walk in the heat
Aint alone
Aint got the kind of cancer that is going to kill me
Aint got a sick child
Aint got to worry

Sold! To the lowest bidder...

Tomorrow I have an interview for a job that I would really like to get. It is not in my field, but it is working for a 4 year institution. This is what I keep telling myself. Today, I stumbled onto this and decided I was going to have to feel a little better.

I knew on the front end that I was not going into the field where the big bucks are, but seriously? Is the conversation about the pay for English teachers going to one of things that is followed by the fact that New York garbage carriers make more? Honestly, y'all, my self-esteem can't take it.

When did it become cool to be a jerk?

Last night was wonderful. Andy's friends hosted a really cool, laid-back going-away party at their gorgeous house. Tucked away on one of those picturesque old Memphis streets in the vicinity of Rhodes, this house looks like a place where people who let the juices of life dribble down their chins live. I floated in the aura created by beautiful surroundings and incredibly nice people. The folks I met in the initial hours of the shin-dig were eager to introduce themselves, extend a hand, and talk to me about Andy and Memphis and life-stuff in general. As the night grew later, the stragglers began to arrive. Around 11 the person who I will refer to as Douche-bag arrived.

Admittedly, I judged him based on his clothing, but in such a warm and inviting surrounding, I merely expected him to be as friendly as the people I had already met. And then he said what he said. I am not the world's greatest at dialogue, but allow me to recreate.

A brief discription of the characters:
Brad - Recently defended his MA thesis. Laid-back, pseduo-rocker type. An ass to most people, but someone who grows on you after a short time. Brad has had a few beers and the words are a little slow as is the thought process.
Douche-bag - Early 20s, wearing a trucker hat, thick beard, buttoned plaid shirt, nondescript shorts, and obnoxious shoes. He is smoking and nursing the keg, barely leaving the free booze the whole time he is there.

Various chit-chat gives way to the conversation that follows. Several people took part, but the exchange between Brad and Douche-bag is especially significant.

Random person: "Does anyone have any gum?"

Brad (from his perch on the steps): "You know, Bob Dylan hated gum."

Random person: "Well, I like gum, I wish I had some, too."

Douche-bag: "Fuck Bob Dylan. I hate Bob Dylan."

Brad: "Yeah, he hated gum... (incoherent babble about why Bob hates gum).....

Douche-bag: "He's a plagiarist. He stole everything he ever sang."

Brad: "He hated gum and ...."

Douche-bag: "Yeah, I hate him because he is a plagiarist. I hate him for the same reason I hate Martin Luther King, Jr."

Group jaw-drop.


Alright. That is part one. Part two I can just give the highlights. Basically Douche-bag said something like, "You know who the least attractive girl is? The smart girl."

So here is my question with a little explanation. I don't actually believe that this guy meant all of that. I am pretty sure he did it to get a rise out of people (read females) or to get attention. What I want to know is, when did it become cool to be a jerk? Hewas obvioulsy wearing his personna, it was in his plaid shirt and his trucker hat, but his attitude seemed to be put upon as well. In a room full of wonderfully nice people, he was unique for being the jerk. It was like he had to be different and that was the only way. I am going to be on the look out for this behavior. I am hoping this is not a trend.

Friends

Friends, the real ones, are fewer and further than they ever were. This summer I am witnessing 7 people I know move on to their next phases of life while I stay where I am. There is a future blog where I will undoubtedly host a pity party for one, but for now, I will celebrate the fact that I love and am loved my some seriously wonderful people.

Andy is a guy I never anticipated liking. He was in a night class my second semester of grad school, and he was way too smart for his own good. I guess that is still true. He is book-smart, but that is not where his amazing-ness ends. Andy's faith and his search for God and his willingness to talk to me about things that I don't talk to most people about still inspire me. When I found out about the cancer, Andy was one of the first people I called. Andy is real and wonderful and prays with vehemence and faith that I hope to one day have. Knowing people like Andy helps my faith grow. Andy goes to Maryland to get his PhD and to be the hot, smart guy with an ear for music, a lean for good films, a penchant for esoteric blogging, and the guy who will always answer emails.

Mike and Liz moved to Memphis in pieces. Mike came first and we met in out first ever graduate class. He and Liz got married over fall break of that first semester and she came to Memphis, too. I always wanted to get to know Liz better, and I know that I will always regret that we weren't better friends. She is a really creative and talented artist, and I wish her the best as she starts graduate school. Mike put up with me, listened to me break down, tolerated my chattiness, offered really good advice, and when I told him that he was my best friend in Memphis, he laughed. It's still true, and yes, it's still funny. The talks, the frustrations, and the genuinely happy moments are all better because Mike was there. As I look back on those wonderful basement times, Mike is everyone of them. Mike and Liz go to Knoxville where they are homeowners, and I think that makes them grown-ups at last. Don't tell them that.

I did not like Julie when I met her. She was loud, obnoxious, and she ate extra cheesy Doritos and drank Diet Coke next to me in our Philosophy class until I wanted to choke her. A hundred tears and a million laughs later, she is the person that knew the Memphis-me better than anyone and loved me anyway. She is a wonderful soul that wears a tough-girl face and a hard shell, but underneath she is the most loving and delightful person. She cares about people even when they don't give her a reason to care. Julie goes to Florida to work on her PhD and be the girl that wanted it all and got it.

Sarah and Brian are the holders of my heart. Brian married Sarah and no one could figure out why a guy like him would marry a girl like her. I tried to describe it one of those nights before her wedding during one of mine and Sarah's marathon phone calls. I haven't ever been able to repeat what I said, but I will attempt it here. Sarah is organized, ambitious, steadfast, strong, solid. Brian is versatile, accomadating, thoughtful, trusting, soulful. They are made of the same things, but they are different at the same time. Sarah is ice and Brian is water. Alone, one thing is not enough, but when put together, they are refreshing and satisfying. My friends are ice water to my sun-drenched soul. Sarah and Brian go to Nashville where Brian will work towards becoming a nurse practitioner while working as a nurse. Sarah will teach Literature at a Davidson county school and adventurously begin law school as she looks to her next goal of being a lawyer. I don't think Nashville is big enough for the both of them. I don't think the world is either.

Life is change, and with some sadness and a lot of happiness, I am looking at these changes with joy for the journeys of all these people that I love so much. They will touch more lives than they will know, and I will be happy knowing that my life is made fuller because of them. May good luck, blessings, and friends as good as you are fall into your lives the way you all have fallen into mine!

Waves of perception

What is hope? Where does it come from? Where does it go? I know when I think I don't have it. I know when it is all that I have. I remember when I wasn't afraid of it. I remember when I started to see it as a double-edged sword.

There isn't a lot to be sure of in a world where everything changes as much as it does, but there is this stream of hope that flows nonetheless. If there wasn't hope, what would there be? I don't think there would be much at all. As much as I hate to admit it, hope is what I have when I don't even want it.

Standing beside the river of hope I can see that it sometimes flows steady and strong and it sometimes trickles as if it were almost gone. It just won't go away. Fish from it, float my paper boat in it, maybe get a canoe into it if I am that brave. I won't turn my back on it. I guess that is what I am trying to say.

Getting my life back

It's wonderful news! The cancer is located in one place, it hasn't spread, and it can be removed in one procedure. I am beside myself with happiness. Sure, it's still cancer, and it isn't the greatest thing that could ever happen, but it is all going to be gone on August 21st!

My mother hates me again, my family has stopped calling me, and everything is going back to normal. I feel like I can do what I need to do again and that is alright with me.

Nathan is at his dad's house until later this week and then he is off to camp with his friends from church. While he is gone I am doing some work in his room. I am hoping to surprise him with a new room when he gets back.

Now I am going to sit back, relax, and breathe in slow, concentrated breaths. I am going to be ok, and my life is my own again. I don't have to give it away to anything. It's mine.

Some honesty

Last night I was sitting in a meeting adn the topic had mostly to do with fear. It's a catch-22 when it all comes down to it. I have to have faith in having faith, but when I do that I can turn my fear over to God and I don't have to be afraid anymore. I'm struggling. I believe in God so that isn't where I am stuck, as far as I know. I just can't seem to pray to Him to take awy my fear. Somewhere in my head I am making this thing the onlt thing that I have and if I give it away then don't have anything anymore. Ownership of fear seems like a silly thing to want to have, but there it is.

I want my fear like oxygen and a warm blanket. Only it isn't a warm blanket. It's sticky and uncomfortable and suffocating and ridiculous to want.

My stomach hurts, my head hurts, I don't feel like I know what I am doing, and where ever I go I am always sure that it isn't the right place. I have also decided that there isn't anything in the world that will ever get my mind off this enough to make me forget that this is actually happening.

Filling the days between now and then

I get results a week from today. Sure, I am afraid about that, and I am also anxioulsy awaiting this big reveal with an even bigger sense of impending disappointment. By that I mean that I am mostly certian that I will come away from that appointment with more questions than answers and a deeper sense of not knowing what is really going on with this thing. Such an inspiration this day, I know.

The cool thing is that I have lots of things scheduled for this week. They have been intentionally put into place to offer delightful destraction. Yay for that!

Today I am going to see a movie with my son. Tomorrow I am planning a trip for us to the zoo. Wednesday is my weekly trek to Memphis for the NA meeting. Thursday is going to be my laundry day. Friday is a Fourth of July thing with family followed by a big party at my friend's house. Saturday I am driving to Middle Tennessee to have a late 4th thing with my friends' family. My son is going with me and then I am taking him to meet his dad on Sunday for his trip to Georgia. That night I am going to see a show in Nashville. Which brings me to a week from today when I go for my appointment at 1:30 with Dr. Branch.

Do I think all of this will happen as planned? Psht. No. But I am going to hope that the last part goes relatively smoothly. I am going to miss Nathan so much while he is gone to see his dad. I wish he wasn't going. I think they suck for taking him down there at this time. Seems like they would be able to see that they are really being thoughtless. But I guess that is how it is with thoughtless people. Blah.

Enough for now. We are going to go swimming before we head to the movie. It's a little bit cooler today than it has been over the past few days. Cold water swimming!

And so it begins...

My mother says I should do this and because I think I should start doing some things differently, I am actually following her advice for once. Can we not tell her?

So let me catch this story up to speed in the most efficient way possible...

I got back with my ex, this time for real, and I decided to go on birth control for the first time in my life. About the time he was breaking up with me because he needed to do drugs more than he needed to be with me, I found out that I had this abnormal papsmear. After a couple of rounds of miscommunication I got the news that I have cervical cancer. I am 29, a single mother, almost finished with grad school, 7 years clean addict, child of a dead father, child of a single mother, and now I am a cancer patient. There are plenty of places I could write from, but I think it might be fun to let you guess which one of my issues guides me from day to day.

On Thursday, June 19, 2008 I went to the UT Family Practice Clinic for a test called a colposcopy as well as a biopsy. Did I mention that I don't have health insurance? Oh, well, I don't. I was able to get onto a grant given to the state of Tennessee to cover this test, so I am very happy about that. As soon as this test comes back, I will be eligible for expedited TennCare.

So I had the test. It was excruciating. The doctors don't talk, the nurses are as kind as they can be, and more things that I could hold in two hands were shoved elbow deep into my cancer coated cervix. Seriously.

So now I wait. It's Saturday and I am sitting here allowing myself to think about the cancer, but I don't usually do this. Lately I have been watching movies. Today I have watched 4. I have also been driving without a destination. Sometimes I do have a place in mind, but that is not a requirement. Yesterday I drove to Alabama and back. Today I drove around town and ended up at a bookstore. I have been going to Memphis a lot, too.

I guess there are already good things that have happened. I have gotten back into going to NA meetings. The people are fantastic and the possibility for inspiration seems more likely at a meeting than on my couch. Even though inspiration has happened from here before. I have been making the trek at least once a week even though it has been as much as three times a week. I am just that committed to not thinking about this.

I sound like a jerk. Maybe I am. I am afraid of dying alone. There I said it. Every person that I am has that one fear. The student, the mother, the addict, the daughter, and now the patient are all afraid. It's too much fear. How can I not be afraid? I guess I can write it all down and see if that helps.