It’s Tuesday night and my car won’t stay in between the lines. It’s not that I’m incompetent or unable. It’s just that I planned for a real straight shot, put it on autopilot, and as it turns out the road is rather curvilinear. This happens often I guess. Occasionally someone accompanies me in the passenger seat, and points out my errors. The truth is, I have a horrible sense of direction and sometimes if I am left alone to decide whether to turn left or right, I am sure to end up making far too many turns than necessary to get to where I’m going. I oft refer to Google Maps for assistance, but so the story goes, best made plans often fail. I am much better off with a “partner in crime.” Everything is easier to understand from two points of view as opposed to one. Paradigms might be the end of mankind someday. Some say the apocalypse will be the end, but I say narrow-mindedness might kill us all if we let it.
At any rate, tonight must be an exception to all general rules about me, cuz I know exactly where I’m going and how to get there. [autopilot off…I need you not tonight]. I had an instinct to stop everything I was doing and go (even though I had piles upon piles of ‘things to do’ AND I was beyond ready for sleep). I felt beckoned, so here I am driving—and with the radio off at that. I rarely go without music, but tonight is a rarity in itself I suppose.
So I ride silently to my destination, park, and start walking
…up the stairs.
I have a sense that this might be finding “my place” here in this new town
.…up the stairs and to the top.
Things are becoming smaller below me and life is beginning to fall into its perspective place in my mind—that it is bigger than just me (something we all know, and yet lack the visual representation that serves as a reminder and convincer).
I’ve got an aerial view and it feels like I’m staring through the clear confines of an ant farm or something of the sort. There are a million stories unfolding down there, thousands of stories all crossing paths with one another. And in the midst of all of this the river runs wide and strong below me, cutting the city in half, and there is a breeze that blows long and cool against my body. I’m standing hundreds of feet above what seems like the eye of this city’s nightly storm—calm in the midst of chaos. I love it.
And so my answer to the call is “Yes. Yes, this will be my place. My retreat. My comfort. My calm.” I’m glad I finally found one…
Saturday, July 21, 2007
here i sit, two stories high and staring out the large rectangular glass hole in the back of my room. my desk sits here on purpose. all i can see is the sky [and a billboard], but i love to look out the window. in fact, i suppose, it doesn't matter where i am really...i just love to stare at nothing and let my mind run through the tall grass barefoot and with her arms spread out like wings. i say "let", but honestly i cannot help myself. i try to sit and be purposeful, study, or write even. but every time without fail i end up staring out at nothing in particular, just daydreaming.
today i was driving to class, the same way i do every day--same time, same route, same everything. i looked in my rear view mirror and what i saw led me into a stream of thoughts that may or may not be okay. there was a girl (she looked about my age) riding with an older man, probably in his 60's or so. they were riding in a white 80's model plymouth. it looked kind of beat up (but i'm surprised it's even running, being from the 80's), and she was in what appeared to be a work uniform. it was a maroon collared shirt, much like one a maid or fast food worker would wear. apparently, he was giving her a ride to work. or so it seemed. they were having a conversation--actually talking to each other. this made me happy...i mean, that they were actually talking, interacting, and smiling at that. then my mood dropped a bit at the thought of this girl, who is seemingly my age and working in fast food, with no car to call her own.[i am 24 years old.]
don't get me wrong...i once worked in fastfood. actually, i've worked in many fast food resturaunts. but that definately is the hard life. and i guess i can say that b/c that's where my roots lie...but the scene that i saw sent me into outerspace for a while. when i was out there i imagined that this girl grew up in a poor family, had limited opportunities for success, and possibly even lost one or both parents along the way...which would explain the older man [grandfather?] driving her to work. i imagined her to be a smart and completely competent person, but one who was held back by limited resources in a capitalist society. then i thought of myself--someone who grew up in a poor family with limited resources, in the same society she lives in. [btw, i completely realize that these are all assumptions and are probably not even accurate...the point i guess is just the thought process it threw me into]
so what's the difference? the difference, people, is what i've been pondering ever since i've realized my disadvantage...and much more since i've moved to nashville...i am lucky. i've had lucky breaks all my life. part if it i owe to my mother, who made sure i was put into a good public school system no matter what. so that part isn't luck. but the rest is luck. i guess you could say that i'm lucky to have a mom like mine. but it doesn't stop at that. for instance, when i graduated college i had an interview with richmond county schools and landed a job with a school that was being chartered. so i had the unique opportunity to be a part of a team that would reshape a school for the betterment of the kids. if landing the best interview isn't good enough, i also had a college buddy that worked there already. moving past that, i got lucky with this whole vandy thing too. its not like i think i don't deserve to be here...that's not what i mean. i feel like that at times, but i know i can do this and that alone makes me feel like i belong in some kinda way. what i'm talking about when i say "lucky" is the fact that i just happened to get an email about funding for grad education programs here, and that i just happened to hear about the opportunity to live with reid. you know, those kind of things. i wouldn't even be here had i not gotten that email. that is lucky. [back to the car ride to class] so these observations made me feel a little bit guilty. why should i get some lucky breaks that helped me succeed, but others don't? and that makes the difference between the life my parents struggled to live and the life i live now. its just not fair. then i thought, 'no, i've worked hard to get here. it is fair.' these thoughts waged war within me for just a moment. they may never resolve i suppose, but that's okay. i think its a healthy thing to think about because in the end, i'm always left feeling thankful for what i've got. and so that's what i'm landing on. thankful. lucky. blessed/fortunate, whatever you wanna call it. that's what it is.
my current thought: (1) we need to create opportunities for kids who don't naturally get them from privilege. (2) i hope i do something really cool and meaningful with my life that will somehow improve quality of life for others, otherwise all these lucky breaks mean nothing but material prosperity for me.
signed,
lucky duck
today i was driving to class, the same way i do every day--same time, same route, same everything. i looked in my rear view mirror and what i saw led me into a stream of thoughts that may or may not be okay. there was a girl (she looked about my age) riding with an older man, probably in his 60's or so. they were riding in a white 80's model plymouth. it looked kind of beat up (but i'm surprised it's even running, being from the 80's), and she was in what appeared to be a work uniform. it was a maroon collared shirt, much like one a maid or fast food worker would wear. apparently, he was giving her a ride to work. or so it seemed. they were having a conversation--actually talking to each other. this made me happy...i mean, that they were actually talking, interacting, and smiling at that. then my mood dropped a bit at the thought of this girl, who is seemingly my age and working in fast food, with no car to call her own.[i am 24 years old.]
don't get me wrong...i once worked in fastfood. actually, i've worked in many fast food resturaunts. but that definately is the hard life. and i guess i can say that b/c that's where my roots lie...but the scene that i saw sent me into outerspace for a while. when i was out there i imagined that this girl grew up in a poor family, had limited opportunities for success, and possibly even lost one or both parents along the way...which would explain the older man [grandfather?] driving her to work. i imagined her to be a smart and completely competent person, but one who was held back by limited resources in a capitalist society. then i thought of myself--someone who grew up in a poor family with limited resources, in the same society she lives in. [btw, i completely realize that these are all assumptions and are probably not even accurate...the point i guess is just the thought process it threw me into]
so what's the difference? the difference, people, is what i've been pondering ever since i've realized my disadvantage...and much more since i've moved to nashville...i am lucky. i've had lucky breaks all my life. part if it i owe to my mother, who made sure i was put into a good public school system no matter what. so that part isn't luck. but the rest is luck. i guess you could say that i'm lucky to have a mom like mine. but it doesn't stop at that. for instance, when i graduated college i had an interview with richmond county schools and landed a job with a school that was being chartered. so i had the unique opportunity to be a part of a team that would reshape a school for the betterment of the kids. if landing the best interview isn't good enough, i also had a college buddy that worked there already. moving past that, i got lucky with this whole vandy thing too. its not like i think i don't deserve to be here...that's not what i mean. i feel like that at times, but i know i can do this and that alone makes me feel like i belong in some kinda way. what i'm talking about when i say "lucky" is the fact that i just happened to get an email about funding for grad education programs here, and that i just happened to hear about the opportunity to live with reid. you know, those kind of things. i wouldn't even be here had i not gotten that email. that is lucky. [back to the car ride to class] so these observations made me feel a little bit guilty. why should i get some lucky breaks that helped me succeed, but others don't? and that makes the difference between the life my parents struggled to live and the life i live now. its just not fair. then i thought, 'no, i've worked hard to get here. it is fair.' these thoughts waged war within me for just a moment. they may never resolve i suppose, but that's okay. i think its a healthy thing to think about because in the end, i'm always left feeling thankful for what i've got. and so that's what i'm landing on. thankful. lucky. blessed/fortunate, whatever you wanna call it. that's what it is.
my current thought: (1) we need to create opportunities for kids who don't naturally get them from privilege. (2) i hope i do something really cool and meaningful with my life that will somehow improve quality of life for others, otherwise all these lucky breaks mean nothing but material prosperity for me.
signed,
lucky duck
Monday, May 14, 2007
So…I’ve got a little break at work. However expected this break might’ve been, there was still a little startle once it came. The students filled my room first period this morning with their usual loudness—stayed their usual 75 minutes. Then they left, and break came. The silence hit me like a mack truck. And silence’s lady love came crashing in just as hard as he did. She dangled just above my head, whispering into my ear about all the ‘less than sexy’ things I should be thinking about. There are trucks to rent, things to pack, grades to put in, ceremonies to plan, and errands to run. She’s mocking me…but she can’t hear the noise that’s already in my head. She doesn’t know that the reason I am staring blankly at this computer screen is because there is so much noise that I cannot even make sense of it enough to type it into the white oblivion of Microsoft Word. But these are just black words on a white backdrop. Must they make sense?
Stupid is an ongoing theme in my life. When I was a kid my best friend. Darold, and I used to jump off of the roof onto bean bags. We’d pick each other up above our heads a and body-slam each other like WWF wrestlers did. We threw rocks at cars, and school windows. We shop-lifted and lit things on fire. We played baseball with just two people…hmm. We were stupid kids—the kind adults get really furious at when they come into their front yard and see a portion of their yard on fire, or a broken window or something. I guess that’s what kids do…or some of them at least. I have no regrets about all that. Its just part of the story of life I guess.
Here are the things that are genuinely stupid…
Do you guys remember those little poppers that used to come in the Rice Crispy cereal box? It was like a little rubber dome that you turned inside-out, and when you did that and set it onto a surface it would eventually pop up into the air. We used to think they were so cool. So, one day I decided (while lying on the couch watching TV) that I wanted to see it pop up from a different perspective…perhaps from the bottom. “I’ll just turn it inside-out and lay it on my eye!” I thought the idea was genius…that is, until that sucker finally popped and gave me a black eye. I immediately knew how stupid it was to have done that. The idea was obviously doomed for injury way before I carried it out. So why didn’t it occur to me beforehand? Stupid. It was just one of those times that you do something without realizing what is actually going on. There was another time that I was riding my bike and decided I was going to plow straight into one of those chain-linked fence doors (I was one for demolition). I hit that thing so hard that it bounced back and caught me in the shoulder…took a nice chunk out. Stupid.
So what’s up with that? Why do I do stupid shit like that? I realize the mistake after the fact, and am left wishing for a time machine. Sometimes I find myself falling into a manhole even though someone tried to warn me ahead of time. And in the conversation I go, “yeah I get it”, thinking that I do. But I don’t know that I don’t until I REALLY do. That makes me feel like a real douche-bag. And until modern science starts pumpin’ out affordable time machines, I guess all I can do is learn my lessons for future reference and hope the past can be overlooked…
Stupid is an ongoing theme in my life. When I was a kid my best friend. Darold, and I used to jump off of the roof onto bean bags. We’d pick each other up above our heads a and body-slam each other like WWF wrestlers did. We threw rocks at cars, and school windows. We shop-lifted and lit things on fire. We played baseball with just two people…hmm. We were stupid kids—the kind adults get really furious at when they come into their front yard and see a portion of their yard on fire, or a broken window or something. I guess that’s what kids do…or some of them at least. I have no regrets about all that. Its just part of the story of life I guess.
Here are the things that are genuinely stupid…
Do you guys remember those little poppers that used to come in the Rice Crispy cereal box? It was like a little rubber dome that you turned inside-out, and when you did that and set it onto a surface it would eventually pop up into the air. We used to think they were so cool. So, one day I decided (while lying on the couch watching TV) that I wanted to see it pop up from a different perspective…perhaps from the bottom. “I’ll just turn it inside-out and lay it on my eye!” I thought the idea was genius…that is, until that sucker finally popped and gave me a black eye. I immediately knew how stupid it was to have done that. The idea was obviously doomed for injury way before I carried it out. So why didn’t it occur to me beforehand? Stupid. It was just one of those times that you do something without realizing what is actually going on. There was another time that I was riding my bike and decided I was going to plow straight into one of those chain-linked fence doors (I was one for demolition). I hit that thing so hard that it bounced back and caught me in the shoulder…took a nice chunk out. Stupid.
So what’s up with that? Why do I do stupid shit like that? I realize the mistake after the fact, and am left wishing for a time machine. Sometimes I find myself falling into a manhole even though someone tried to warn me ahead of time. And in the conversation I go, “yeah I get it”, thinking that I do. But I don’t know that I don’t until I REALLY do. That makes me feel like a real douche-bag. And until modern science starts pumpin’ out affordable time machines, I guess all I can do is learn my lessons for future reference and hope the past can be overlooked…
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Vanderbilt Here I come
Okay, so I visited Nashville this week for a couple of days. I visited the Vanderbilt campus for the first time...and it's ginormous! The college of education has its own campus--about the size of the university where i did my undergrad work. It is a beautiful campus though. Everything is working out quite well. My advisor is really cool, and the grant is going to even pay for health insurance...phew! I will be doing some research on testing students for special services...ways to determine whether or not they should be in special ed. Its pretty cool. AND I get to work with 1st-graders!!! That's super-exciting! I love the little guys ;0)
I also met with my future roomie, Reid. He's a really cool guy--also very laid back, and easy to talk to. All in all, I'm pretty stoked about moving out there. He also is friends with a very successful song writer (his name is Humming), who has written 10 #1's, and also wrote most of one of the Dixie Chicks albums...WOW. The apartment is pretty cool too. It's very close to campus AND to downtown, so that's awesome. Its really safe too. Guests have to be buzzed in and check in at the front desk...and you have to be expected by the resident to go up.
Other than that, I just hung out with my dad. We ate at a resturant that had an aquarium inside...whoa. I had the biggest friggin salad on the face of the planet there. [Someone please tell me why they leave the shrimp tails on the shrimp when you get 'em in things like salads...or perhaps pasta...really.]
That's all I got for now,
Peace
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
i can't sleep. there are a million things going through my head when it hits the pillow at night, and it keeps me up. i think about all kinds of things. i imagine myself with the person i want to be with, and what it would be like to live that dream, who it will be, and what we will be. all the while, the music never stops. i hear it constantly, and occasionally i cannot overthrow the urge to write it down, finish it, put some words to it. and i often have to get out of bed to do so. other things soar through my mind: what i will do "next", what it will be like to live in a new city. then i try to imagine what it will be like when i settle down--who i will be then, what my house will be like, what i will be doing with my life then. then it occurs to me that 45 minutes have passed with me laying in my bed awake, yet dreaming. i try to fight it...try to put my mind to rest so my body can do the same. it eventually happens, but tomorrow night the story will be the same as it was tonight...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)