Wednesday, January 14, 2009

fuck and run

"And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend another year alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve"
-Liz Phair

I realized last night in a conversation over a Delaney sandwich that I am (in ways I'm just beginning to understand) a runner.

In fact, I was nicknamed Nike by someone I "nike-eed" on before we even dated.

Yes. I run.

I'm not sure why this is. For the most part I see myself as a very committed, very passionate individual. I was in a relationship for almost 8 years with the same person, and didn't run...though I felt the urge many times to do so. In truth, I should have ran but hated the idea of "giving up."

The sad thing is that when I have ran and what I have ran from are often things and people that are extremely valuable to me.

Who Nike's on someone they haven't even met?

That's right...little ol' me.

I want to understand this.

I want to work on it.

I don't want to run.

I want to stick around.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

drool (in a severe SBH classroom)

I woke up my ninth grade student today after he had fallen asleep. I convinced myself that if I reached out to engage him, he would be thankful for having not missed a page of the story we just started. The odds were against me, as they always are with the population I work with. But I went in determined to make that difference.

When he lifted his head, he was shocked at the stretched saliva dangling from his mouth to his sleeve.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Drool, DaWayne."

"No. It's not. You're fucking with me," he stated definitively.

My cleanly OCD response was, "No. I don't fuck around when it comes to drool."

And with that, a tissue was given and the story continued.

DaWayne passed the quiz at the end of the class.

I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.
I am making a difference.

Monday, January 5, 2009

the 32nd year or the 33 year?

The dogs are bouncing off the couches. I mean B O U N C I N G! They dash off the couch, to the floor, to the pillows, to the couch, to my lap, to the floor. Holy hell, why don't human beings get this excited about couches?

I may not be excited about couches, but I certainly feel excited about life right now. Wait, why not include being excited about couches? I am excited about this couch. I am excited that I have a couch. In fact, I have two couches. Double the couch, double the excitement. And the dogs like me enough to sit by my side while I'm feeling excited about feeling excited about this couch. And that makes me feel more excited.

Although dogs generally like everyone...

I am excited. I am excited because I'm writing. Ride my cliche-riding with me, won't you? Writing again is like getting on a bike after you haven't cycled in years. Your feet hit the pedals, your hands hit the handlebars, and the wind hits your face...fingers hit keys, words appear, and your face starts to glow. Hello words. Hello thoughts. Hello savoring life.

Yesterday I turned 32. Born Jan. 4th, 1977 at 7:14 p.m. And the weird thing is my oldest brother, who is 20 years my senior, was born on July 14th. So my mother gave birth to her first child on 7/14 and (20 years and 10 children later) gave birth to her last child at 7:14 p.m. I find this to be an exciting least one worth noting.

I am confused as to whether I am in my 32nd year of life or my 33rd year of life. If anyone can explain this concept of age and time, please do.

I was up last night making whoopie into the wee hours of the morning. I think that's the best way to begin 32. It's like you still feel like a teenager while you touch and talk and tickle the ins and outs of each other. And then you wake up after fours hours of sleep and don't feel quite 32. But it's worth it.

I will be a zombie for good lovin' any day. It's well worth the afternoon drag.

Friday, January 2, 2009


Detox tea to the right of me. Peanut butter toast to the left. Smelly dogs by my toes.

And I am turning 32 in two days.

Which amounts to 32 candles. That is sixteen more than the sixteen Molly Ringwald had in 16 Candles. Oh to be sixteen again. My heart actually still skips like I'm 16 some days. Yes, my heart skips, my back cracks, and my as white as it was at 16. The sun just don't shine on some spots.

What will 32 be like? Does one year really make a difference in who we are?

The great thing about having a birthday 3 days after New Years is that you really become aware of time and the changes that you want/need to make in response to the marked change in time. It's a new year, so what am I going to do differently? And NOW, it's my birthday, so REALLY, what am I going to do differently?

So I present a list. Of things I want to change. Of things I want to do. Of things I want to do differently.

1. Change my job.
2. Find a new job that I believe in, that has good health benefits, and doesn't suck the life from me. (hopefully 2 comes before 1, to avoid stress.)
3. Say "yes" more often. (thank you jim carrey.)
4. Not think so much about people who could care less about me.
5. Raise a puppy. (baby steps to a baby.)
6. Work out. My heart and head need to be stimulated more in 2009.
7. Make more time to woo Jamie.
8. Pick up my guitar and trust that I am meant to do something with it.
9. Be more involved in my nieces' lives and infuse them with fearlessness and hope.
10. Tell my father.
11. Let go of my failing kidney and focus on what isn't failing in my body.
12. Get a new tattoo.
13. Travel more. Go to places on a whim, and let it fuel me with more awareness/awakeness.
14. Make the most out of the last 6 months at my job by knowing I am making a difference, regardless of the fact I don't see it.
15. Don't put a foot out the door when I'm scared.
16. Don't put an arm, a finger, or a toe out the door when I'm scared.
17. Eat less, more often instead of eating more, less often.
18. Drink more water.
19. Walk the dogs...even the chihuahua, who I struggle to recognize as a dog.
20. See my father more. See him at least 3 times a week. Because 3 times is not enough. Nor is 6 times. Nor is 7 times when he lives in a nursing home, after raising 9 children and over a dozen grandchildren.
21. Finish the plays I started years ago.
22. Do something with the plays after I finish them.
23. Finish the attic. Sooner than later. We need a space to be creative.
24. Propose.
25. Go to the dentist.
26. Find a new bass player.
27. Learn to play the ukulele.
28. Learn the play the harmonica.
29. Continue learning to play the guitar and piano.
30. Find a therapist that challenges more than pampers.
31. Record. Record. Record. Without fear.
32. Find God least be more open to all that is bigger than me, again and again and again and again and again.