Just Thinkin'

I kept a log of France. It was quick, uninspired, un-poetic. It was functional.

I wanted to keep track of all the places I was seeing; all those beautifully foreign names seemed bent on slipping through my fingers. I figured if I wrote them, cataloged them, they’d somehow find more permanence.

They have – kind of. Now I wonder: why was I so worried about ancient names to ancient cities? I should have written down the words, the expressions, the daily hugs that came from Noah, Isaac, and Bentley. Turns out those are the things that slip away, the moments that are precious and only for a moment.

Who wouldn't miss these awesome kids?

Bon Voyage - thanks to Proust

“The voyage of discovery lies not in finding new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust

At the Getty; discovery via my camera lens.

This statement is so full of truth, I am almost speechless. Almost. True, Proust is known to have spun a few pearls here and there, but this one is the one that is speaking to me today. There are times that (and I feel I am not alone here) I am in need of a new discovery. Whether it be a discovery of self, of others, or of Nature, it makes no difference. It is simply a desire to remind myself that there are so many things out there, so many new places still to be seen, so many new friends still to be made , so many dreams still waiting to be fulfilled.

There are also times that those new discoveries seem so far out of reach. The idea that a new place has to be far and exotic or that dreams are destined to remain abstract can mysteriously turn into a tangible weight. The calculations of making new discoveries don’t seem to add up.

Then, (oh, the wonderful then), I come across something written in the early 20^th Century, and it is exactly what my soul needs to be reminded of. It has been said many different ways, this idea of attitude over circumstance, because it is truth. It is a truth I am glad to exercise – in taking a familiar hike with a friend expecting new inspiration or reading a memorized Scripture ready for God to speak to me anew.

What new discoveries await when we reset our mindset? So, so many, I feel.

Another Pacific Whey Observation

She's here again, the lonely lady - her hair cut short, her pressed blouse perfectly tucked in. Her wine glass sits at arms' length, perched just above her plate. She methodically wipes down her silverware before placing the napkin across her pencil-skirted, dark navy lap. Everything in its proper place. Everything just so before she takes a small, measured bite. A practice that has, no doubt, been often rehearsed and executed.

This is her routine. This is her comfort.

Age is a number...right?

I wonder if I'd be let into Neverland. No, seriously. What is the requirement? Their age limit, is it chronological or psychological? Though I've passed childhood and adolescence, I'm not old, exactly. Though, I am the oldest that I've ever been. It's just that the term, old, seems to be relative, doesn't it?

I am twice as old as some of my students. It is difficult for them to imagine being as old as me, just as it  is difficult for me to truly imagine a 64 year old Shannon - she seems so old. Yet, I also see my mother, heading into her own 6th decade of life, and she doesn't seem old to me. I know she loathes saying she's in her 60's, but really, if you met her, you'd know, she's not old.

How does one measure old anyway? The rest of the world - those around me - tend to remind me that I do not, in fact, refrain from aging. Sometimes it is in the profound: someone I used to babysit having a baby herself. Sometimes it in the silliness: the new "heartthrob" who is 22 looks like he's 12.

There are times I forget I'm 32. I forget that I have now been out of school (negating college) longer than I was in it. I forget that the 90's were more than a decade ago. I forget that my metabolism has indeed changed - well, I forget as I'm eating the ice cream, not so much when I pull on my jeans.

Out of all the things I unintentionally forget, there's one thing that I need to be more diligent in erasing from my mind: the idea of who I am "suppose" to be by a certain age. There are things I haven't experienced yet that I thought I would. But, you know what? There are so many more things that I have experienced that I didn't even know to dream about when I was younger, and that's pretty dang cool. So bring on "the old," in all it's wisdom, chaos, wrinkles, joy, experience, disillusionment, and adventure.


Still, that Neverland thing would be pretty fun too.

Just because it's been a while...

I have nothing of importance to say, nothing gnawing at my brain to get out, but my writing hand is getting itchy – well, has been for some time now. The problem? I've been fairly dormant, uninspired.

I was hoping France would light a muse-filled fire under my uninspired butt; however, it did not. This is not to say I didn’t love my trip, I did (but that’s for another time). It’s just that it wasn’t a very introspective time; this trip’s personality was just different. Perhaps it was me. Who knows? 

Time, at home, alone hasn’t really helped either. I suppose I am still hoping that all my nonsensical daydreams will somehow formulate themselves into a cohesive and interesting narrative. Sadly, they have not. Lazy Buggers.

So…what’s the answer? Well, when I figure that out, I’ll sing it from the rooftops, or, more realistically, type if from my couch (it is not easy to get to my roof).

FYI...

A bit of a purging, but I may also be able to use it later:

I don’t think I’d survive very long in the wild. You see, my defense mechanism is slightly useless: I withdrawal. Yes, my great defense against the dangers and disappointments of the world is to turtle shell it. I wrap myself in a lie of apathy; all the while, I lick my wounds and scold myself for being wounded in the first place.

I do not want you to apologize, pity me, or follow me. I want you to go back in time and not hurt me. Barring miraculous time-travel mojo, however, this  outcome is unlikely. So, instead, I want you to go away, not forever (most likely), but long enough. I want you to know you cannot fix me right when you want. I want you to know that what seems like a silly disappointment to you is simply one more to add to my collection. I want you to know I will be fine; I just need time to stew, wallow, and swim in my own head until I can once again emerge a rational, even-keeled adult.

...Alone...

I see an elderly woman eating alone: wine glass, half sandwich, open book. I have seen her before – always alone. I see her and wonder so many things. Perhaps because I am there alone as well, I wonder if I’m seeing an aged version of me.


She looks content enough, but there’s a subtle look in her eyes that says otherwise. I only catch a glimpse that betrays a longing. There’s something sad, perhaps missing. And I wonder if she is eating alone for one meal that day or all of them. I wonder if she has had to eat alone for a season or a lifetime.

This second thought is the one that really gets me thinking – almost fretting- that indeed, one day, my diet coke and grading will be replaced with white wine and a novel, and someone more than half my age will hope she isn’t looking at her own personal prophecy.

Observation at Pacific Whey

Once again I am at Pacific Whey, finding myself lacking the focus (or desire) to grade. As I am thinking about this, I cannot help but hear one end of a phone conversation, and I begin to jot down what is invading my ear canal:

“Go vote. You have to vote” This was overheard at Pacific Whey. Naturally I assumed this was in regards to the upcoming primaries – silly me. In fact, as the bleach blond, botoxed, UGG wearing, middle-aged woman continued, I was reminded what happens when one assumes. This plea had nothing to do with government politics; instead, it dealt with the politics of American Idol. Yep.

I next heard “Ho Ju or Hee Ju, it doesn’t matter, no one cares…Anyway, everyone is madly in love with him…if they kick him off, I’m banning that show…You have to vote…you have to vote for him.” All while carelessly flipping through a magazine, this very one sided plea to “rock the vote” played out through this grown-up Valley girl (I use this term so you can get a mental audio of her inflections. No really, I’m not trying to be a brat, she had those tones).

I am amused with the serious intensity in which she discusses American Idol voting as though it is, in fact, the Presidential race. Then I ask: am I any better? Sure, she’s engrossed in the importance of Idol, but I am the one writing her importance down…hrrm…I worry for a moment but then alleviate my ephemeral crisis by passing it off as a useful character study.

Let’s Play One Day:

One day…

I’ll do all those things on my ‘to do’ list.

I’ll get caught up on all my grading. Or planning. I’ll take either.

I’ll listen to my inner cheerleader before my inner critic even begins to whisper.

I’ll be vindicated in keeping my “skinny” clothes.

I’ll be braver than I am today.

I won’t wish for ‘one day.’

Now, it's your turn...

A Lesson Plan I Heart

For the start of the semester, I gave a lesson (the same one for all my classes - a first) that I am still so excited about. I first had my kiddos read about the importance of writing down your goals, then (and I'm sure you see where I am going with this) I told them to write down six goals and a plan on how to achieve said goals.

One of the things I love about this, is I did not want them to limit their goals to the realm of the practical; you know, things that solely revolve around academia or career.

I tried to encourage them to think of things, experiences, characteristics that they feel would simply better their lives. Yes, the pragmatic plays a role; however, the so-called frivolous things of this world are just as important if you truly want to live this life, not simply survive it.

Because this was the first time around for this particular exercise, I made an example for them to see. (Also, I really wanted to do this too).

I really do love when I get down right giddy about my job. I cannot put into words what it is like when I see my students latch onto something, embrace it, and truly make it their own. Hee Hee.

My Sample board. I recommend this to all.

Watching them really get into this assignment and share one of the six goals they had to define, create an image for, and write a plan of action for was also so inspiring. Seriously, some of my kids were so brave in sharing their motivation behind a goal and why it meant so much. Of course, there were also those kids who had very fun, very funny goals - that was good too.