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
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