I am sitting alone in a Corner Bakery booth, ear buds firmly in place, Mason Jennings drowning out the many conversations taking place around me. In my hand, alternates a red pen and a fork, taking bites of pasta in between essay comments and grading.
I have a lovely seat by the window that frames the courtyard containing seasonally decorated trees. It’s quite picturesque really – there is just enough of a breeze that the rustling leaves create a subtle, almost star-like twinkling effect with the white lights.
In contrast to my rather gloomy Saturday, tonight I do not feel lonely or lacking. There is no melancholy, no invisible weight, no real longing aside from the wish that these essays will magically grade themselves. No, tonight, after a long day of kids, meetings, grades, lectures, and tests, I am at peace. Tonight, sitting here in my corner of the world, I am content.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Therapy via Blog
Mental Health Days. Have you ever taken a mental health day from work? I am not ashamed to say that I have. In fact, most of my "sick" days are of the mental health variety- that breather I need in order to get my priorities back in order, to refocus my lessons and my motives for teaching.
I took such a day today, except today is Saturday – no kiddos, no lessons, no commute to call in sick from, so you may be wondering from what, then, did I take a mental health day.
I have been quite moody lately. Not in the sense that I am snapping at people or throwing random tantrums. I have, though, been a bit self-pitying. I am usually good about fighting this melancholy that comes along, but today I called in. I did not reason it away or seek outside stimulus to, at the very least, distract myself. Nope. Today, I breathed deeply this melancholy and let myself feel the full force of its almost tangible weight.
I am sure there are many, many arguments as to why this is a stupid and possibly psychologically damaging practice (which is why I normally do not do this), but today, I did not have the energy to fight it. Nor, quite frankly, did I have the inclination to find the energy.
I ignored my phone, my email, and my better judgment and wallowed in my onset loneliness/heaviness. I allowed my over analytic mind to critique all my shortcomings, question my decisions, and steal what little motivation I had in me. I indulged in Del Taco, baked brownies, and watched tv via Hulu pretty much all day. I should feel awful about this. I don’t. I called in sick. Yes, from life.
I am realizing that my melancholy is like the flu. I feel achy (emotionally) and it gets worse before it gets better. Though I wallowed today, my fever broke. I am not fully recovered; however, I can say with certainty that I am on the road to recovery. I took a break from my hulu marathon to browse some art bloggers sites, which got me drawing and even feeling a little inspired.
It may sound small but this is the equivalent to taking that first shower after being in bed for a couple days. That refreshing feeling, as if the last few days of blah are circling the drain, never to be seen again.
I took such a day today, except today is Saturday – no kiddos, no lessons, no commute to call in sick from, so you may be wondering from what, then, did I take a mental health day.
I have been quite moody lately. Not in the sense that I am snapping at people or throwing random tantrums. I have, though, been a bit self-pitying. I am usually good about fighting this melancholy that comes along, but today I called in. I did not reason it away or seek outside stimulus to, at the very least, distract myself. Nope. Today, I breathed deeply this melancholy and let myself feel the full force of its almost tangible weight.
I am sure there are many, many arguments as to why this is a stupid and possibly psychologically damaging practice (which is why I normally do not do this), but today, I did not have the energy to fight it. Nor, quite frankly, did I have the inclination to find the energy.
I ignored my phone, my email, and my better judgment and wallowed in my onset loneliness/heaviness. I allowed my over analytic mind to critique all my shortcomings, question my decisions, and steal what little motivation I had in me. I indulged in Del Taco, baked brownies, and watched tv via Hulu pretty much all day. I should feel awful about this. I don’t. I called in sick. Yes, from life.
I am realizing that my melancholy is like the flu. I feel achy (emotionally) and it gets worse before it gets better. Though I wallowed today, my fever broke. I am not fully recovered; however, I can say with certainty that I am on the road to recovery. I took a break from my hulu marathon to browse some art bloggers sites, which got me drawing and even feeling a little inspired.
It may sound small but this is the equivalent to taking that first shower after being in bed for a couple days. That refreshing feeling, as if the last few days of blah are circling the drain, never to be seen again.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Just Be
Whilst (yeah, that’s right, whilst) driving to work on Friday, I did something I never, ever do: I turned off the radio. You heard me, off, not down, but off. I am a fiend for sound – music especially, but I’m not opposed to talk radio either. In fact, Damien Rice is serenading me as I type this, but I digress.
It started with me being tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally, so I turned down the radio and said a very exasperated “Lord, I need something.” I did not specify what that something was because I didn’t quite know. I am blessed, so very blessed, but I have been feeling as though I am missing out on something- oh that elusive something.
When I did this, I turned the radio completely off in order to focus a little more. I’m pretty sure it was right after the “Lord, I’m just… done” lament that “Be still and know that I am God” popped into my head, and I was immediately a little more settled. This lasted for a good two seconds before I realized this is not what I am good at, this being still thing.
Even when I am being sedentary, I am not still per say. Regardless of my activity or inactivity, my mind is usually racing. I’m sure I am not alone. If over analyzing were an Olympic event (albeit a really, really boring one), I would be the Michael Phelps of the event. Even as I was trying to “be still” in my car, the idea to write this down was streaming through my brain. Ironic, right? It is not that I am not content with my own company; it’s just that the hamsters that keep my brain going never seem to need to rest. Pesky little things really.
Anyway, I am trying to practice being still. I figure I can give this a go during my commute. I have heard many people say that one cannot be still while driving, but I am thinking this would actually be good for me. I obviously have to focus on the road, which will take enough of my attention to allow me to just be. This is the plan. Wish me luck.
It started with me being tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally, so I turned down the radio and said a very exasperated “Lord, I need something.” I did not specify what that something was because I didn’t quite know. I am blessed, so very blessed, but I have been feeling as though I am missing out on something- oh that elusive something.
When I did this, I turned the radio completely off in order to focus a little more. I’m pretty sure it was right after the “Lord, I’m just… done” lament that “Be still and know that I am God” popped into my head, and I was immediately a little more settled. This lasted for a good two seconds before I realized this is not what I am good at, this being still thing.
Even when I am being sedentary, I am not still per say. Regardless of my activity or inactivity, my mind is usually racing. I’m sure I am not alone. If over analyzing were an Olympic event (albeit a really, really boring one), I would be the Michael Phelps of the event. Even as I was trying to “be still” in my car, the idea to write this down was streaming through my brain. Ironic, right? It is not that I am not content with my own company; it’s just that the hamsters that keep my brain going never seem to need to rest. Pesky little things really.
 |
| This is the hamster in my head, keeping my brain on a constant loop |
Saturday, December 4, 2010
In Praise of Vinyl
Before the modern conveniences that deliver music through cyberspace and MP3 players, before Compact Disks, before cassettes, before eight track even (now I’ve lost some of you, but stay with me), there was vinyl. Some of you may not be familiar with the record: a wonderful compacted circle of vinyl that fills the room with whatever song that has been pressed into its grooves.
Personally, I have a very modest collection of these throwbacks. Cultivated through garage sales and thrift stores and whittled by various moves, the collection I have now is one of those things I cannot image getting rid of. There are times I think that I do not need these records (those rare moment of logic I experience). In fact, I have most songs on my ipod, and let’s face it, I listen to that more than any record I own. I mean, it’s not as if I can strap on a record player as I work out or hook one up in my Jetta, right? So why do I keep my records?
The answer is quite simply because I love them. Many people mock the record for its scratched effect and white noise that it creates, not to mention many of the song mixes are laughable by today’s digital standard, but these are the reasons why I love records.
I love the absence of auto-tune, digitally adjusted guitars, drums, and basses, and perfectly balanced sounds. Although I know much planning and work went into making these vinyl fossils of music, the lack of polished audio perfection gives them a raw, almost spontaneous feel. A feeling that if I were magically transported to a Glen Miller concert, it would sound exactly like it does on the record.
Perhaps my imagination runs away a little too much, but I also get the idea that the artists and engineers had to be more creative in translating the sounds they heard in their heads to what could actually be recorded.
Brian Setzer paid tribute to Sun Records by recording from its early catalog of songs and using the same techniques as they used. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about his experience of recording in a bathroom or singing into can in order to achieve the sound he was after. I suppose I assume all artists had to be so inventive during the reign of vinyl.
Somehow records make me experience the act of listening to music more.
Personally, I have a very modest collection of these throwbacks. Cultivated through garage sales and thrift stores and whittled by various moves, the collection I have now is one of those things I cannot image getting rid of. There are times I think that I do not need these records (those rare moment of logic I experience). In fact, I have most songs on my ipod, and let’s face it, I listen to that more than any record I own. I mean, it’s not as if I can strap on a record player as I work out or hook one up in my Jetta, right? So why do I keep my records?
The answer is quite simply because I love them. Many people mock the record for its scratched effect and white noise that it creates, not to mention many of the song mixes are laughable by today’s digital standard, but these are the reasons why I love records.
I love the absence of auto-tune, digitally adjusted guitars, drums, and basses, and perfectly balanced sounds. Although I know much planning and work went into making these vinyl fossils of music, the lack of polished audio perfection gives them a raw, almost spontaneous feel. A feeling that if I were magically transported to a Glen Miller concert, it would sound exactly like it does on the record.
Perhaps my imagination runs away a little too much, but I also get the idea that the artists and engineers had to be more creative in translating the sounds they heard in their heads to what could actually be recorded.
Brian Setzer paid tribute to Sun Records by recording from its early catalog of songs and using the same techniques as they used. I thoroughly enjoyed reading about his experience of recording in a bathroom or singing into can in order to achieve the sound he was after. I suppose I assume all artists had to be so inventive during the reign of vinyl.
Somehow records make me experience the act of listening to music more.
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