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Day Sixteen

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Several years ago my parents generously gifted me a car. A 1995 Lincoln Continental that they lovingly maintained and drove for years. They upgraded to something newer, and knowing that I couldn’t afford to buy a car for my daughter, they decided I could use it more than they needed the little bit of money they’d get selling it. It cost me about $300 to get it licensed and titled, and I was thrilled!

My daughter wasn’t quite as thrilled. It’s gold, she said. So, what? I replied. It’s kind of big…she hesitated. It was free for you, so it’s perfect, I stated. End of story.

My child isn’t ungrateful, I don’t mean to imply that. She was thankful to have something to drive at all. But a first car is always something of a big deal for kids, and I understood her hesitation. However, it didn’t take her long to claim the car as her own. And create her own personal pigsty in the backseat and trunk. A Lincoln Continental has pretty good space in it, enough for a week’s worth of clothing, empty water bottles, random crumpled papers, and shoes. Soon, we began affectionately calling it the Stinkin’ Lincoln.  It has been a blessing to me, not just to have an extra car available, but to have an extra person to help tote around my youngest or me when my car was in the shop.

Today my daughter bought herself a new car. Something small and red and more age-appropriate. I’m proud of her for working and saving the money she needed for this step, and I’m happy for her excitement. But I’m also glad that the Stinkin’ Lincoln is still around and will be available for my youngest who will be driving soon.  The car has had some problems in the last few years and is showing the wear of winter weather and teenage driving, but it’s still running. And for that I’m thankful.

Day Fifteen: Diversity

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Diversity is a big buzz word these days, at least I think it still is. I know it comes up at work, and I saw today that it was a topic even in Hollywood’s award show season. It’s a funny word, diversity.  Merriam-Webster online defines it in the following ways:

: the state of having people who are different races or who have different cultures in a group or organization

: the quality or state of having many different forms, types, ideas, etc.

Most of us probably think of the word in terms of the first definition. However, it seems to me that in the effort to BE diverse, we start to look at people only in terms of their race or what culture they are from, and how different that is from our own culture or race. I don’t believe differences are a bad thing, this coming from someone who considers herself a little different. (Although my kids prefer the word weird when describing me.)  However, I do think that when seeing only cultural or race differences, there’s a danger in a “them” vs “me” mentality. As if we are comparing one against the other. It’s not inclusive, but exclusive thinking–the opposite of what diversity training teaches. That’s why I like the second definition better–aren’t we all a collection of different ideas, forms, types? In my house there are three women and while we share the same basic culture and race, we are vastly different in some ways. My youngest shares limited physical resemblance to me or her older sister. My oldest has a different fashion sense than the rest of us. I’m, well, weird apparently, thus much different than the two of them. In this sense, our differences make life more interesting and enriching. And if we were from three different races or cultures, how much more interesting and enriching would that be?

I went to a college that had a large influx of international students. I had friends from many different races and cultures: Spain, France, Japan, Iceland, and Ecuador were a few of the places they hailed from. It was fascinating to me. The differences in language and ideas and views opened me to thinking of things in ways I wouldn’t if the population weren’t so diverse. And this semester the class I’m teaching has students from Serbia, Mexico, and Pakistan as well as from different cities around the area. The differences within this group of students is what makes the class so interesting and rich with potential to learn more than our class content. I love that we are going to see things from different viewpoints. I’m thankful I’ve had the opportunity in my life to experience diversity in this way, as a means to expand my own mind and view of the world.  How boring it would be if we all thought alike and acted the same.

Day 14: Tired

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This will be short and sweet, my friends. Today I’m tired. For some reason, I didn’t sleep well last night. Maybe it’s because I started going back more often to the gym. My muscles were a bit sore last night, and I felt tense after a work out with weights. Or maybe it’s because I had trouble shutting down my mind, my thoughts constantly trying to rationalize the problems of the day. Either way, I tossed and turned last night, drifting in and out of sleep. Don’t you hate when you look at the clock in the dark and see the time inch by? One am. Two-thirty. Four o’clock. By the time my alarm rang at 7:00, I felt like I had just shut my eyes.

It wasn’t a horrible day, but it was busy and long. I drank enough coffee to float my eyeballs, although it didn’t necessarily recharge me. I guess when you drink it all day long, your body no longer gets a jolt. Oh, and note to self: don’t wear new shoes on a day after no sleep. My feet hate me. By the time my class ended this evening at seven, I just wanted to go home, have a glass of wine, and not think.

It’s been a long day and I’m thankful it’s over.

 

Day 13: Words

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Today was the start of the Spring semester at the college where I work. The beginning of every new semester is a bit hectic. There are always students trying to enroll at the last minute or switch classes. No one is quite into their routine yet, so the foot traffic through the halls seem a little more haphazard now than it will in a few weeks. While my day job is to manage our tutoring and writing center, I sometimes teach a night class in developmental reading. I enjoy teaching for several reasons, but mostly because I love the interaction with students and playing a role their personal development. I love seeing students expand themselves in some way, whether is learning the content or learning to interact with others in ways they may not normally.

A college reading class is a misnomer. I don’t teach students to read; none of my students are illiterate. The class is designed to teach students how to understand what they read: how to assimilate information and how to predict and interpret the content. It’s not as easy as students think it will be. As adults, I think it’s more difficult to learn new vocabulary and new ways to do something we all take for granted. Reading isn’t an art form, it’s just something most of us do. And a lot do it poorly. I don’t judge my students for needing the class. But it makes me thankful that I started a love affair with words at an early age, when learning was a lot easier and more natural.

I remember when I was in grade school, my parents decided to challenge my sisters and me to learn new words. They gave us a month and whichever one of us learned the most, got a prize. I don’t remember the amount, but it was enough to spur us on. I have four sisters, but at the time, my younger sister wasn’t old enough to participate, so it was just I and my three older sisters. I wanted to win in the worst way, so I set out to read the dictionary. I didn’t get too far into it before I decided that wasn’t going to work. It was not an exciting read. I quickly switched gears to using the dictionary as a means to discover new names I could call my siblings. That proved much more inspiring, and at the end of the month, it was no contest. I won hands down. I still remember the excitement I felt going shopping with my mom to spend my prize money. I found a snazzy blue satin jacket with a white stripe on the cuffs and waistband. I was so proud of that jacket.

I realize now, though, what a gift my parents gave me in spring boarding my appreciation of reading and learning. As I teach each semester, I try to keep that in mind. Sometimes it seems that my students don’t really learn all I expect or hope of them in my class; however, it may just be that I help them pick up the challenge to persist. I hope this semester I can help my students find their inspiration.

Day Twelve

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I have friends who have been diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). In a very small nutshell, it’s a depression that comes from lack of sunlight. It’s usually prevalent in winter when the days are shorter. While I’ve not been diagnosed, I can say that winter wreaks havoc on my motivation and mood. I consider myself an outdoorsy type of person. I love the smell of grass and the breeze on my face and the dirt under my nails. Even in the heat of summer, I’d prefer to have my windows open because it makes me feel more connected to outside. Something as benign as sitting and reading a magazine seems more interesting and enjoyable to me if I’m doing it in a chair on the deck. Or on a swing in the back yard. Being cooped up inside all winter is wearisome.

For several years I commuted almost an hour to work. In the winter I would leave my house in the dark of dawn and head back home in the evening just after sunset. It was as if I didn’t actually HAVE a day at all since I didn’t have a window in my office either. However, winter in the Midwest is often overcast and dull even during the day, so the entire season seems rather gray. I find it hard to come home in the dark and want to do much of anything productive, so in those years winter was especially difficult for me.

After a week of bitter cold ending in freezing rain, I’m happy to say that today was a bright day. The sun was out early, and I spent part of my morning sitting at the kitchen island in front of the sliding doors reading a little and drinking coffee. Two things I love. The temperatures rose, the ice on my driveway thawed off, and my mailbox is almost uncovered from the melted snow. It was a welcome respite, and today I’m grateful for that.

Day Eleven

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I love hardware stores. I’m like a kid at the video store. Vice grips on clearance? I need them. Fancy flashlight on a bendable hose? Want.  The Christmas season was torture for me. All of those special buys.

These days I waste more time wandering through hardware stores than I do the mall. Part of the reason is that I bought my own house last summer and it needed work. Of course, that was part of the reason I bought the place to begin with. I love the creative process involved in fixing things and decorating a house. And when you can’t afford to hire someone to do the work for you, you have to figure out how to do it yourself. I’ve lived through many home remodels, some involving complete demos and redo’s, so I’ve learned how to use power tools and get my hands dirty. When I first moved into this house I went to Lowes at least a couple of times a week. I was there so often, the workers began to recognize me and wave hello. On one particular trip, I spotted a Bostitch air compressor kit on clearance. It came with three nail guns. It was only on clearance to make room for a different set. I didn’t need it for any particular project, but I had always wanted an air compressor…

Today I was thankful I had bought it.  I was able to redo the tv console that was bothering me by making a new top and reconfiguring some unused furniture for the bottom part. Instead of spending hundreds on a new cabinet, I spent thirty dollars on a few boards. And now it’s exactly the dimensions I wanted.  It doesn’t get better than that!

Day Ten: aporia

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Sometimes it’s hard for me to put things into words, so I write poetry. Today I’m thankful to be able to find closure for myself when I can’t get it from someone else.

I walked a labyrinth
and found him
standing in the sunlight
a Greek statue marking
the center of the garden

the day was quiet but
my mind was circling
confused
so when he smiled

evil beauty

I lost a piece of myself
without him knowing
without me knowing why

except perhaps
I was blinded
by the sun and hopeful
for something
I can’t really believe in
but like Pandora’s box

it’s the only thing I have left

I need to travel back
through the maze
retrace my steps to find
the broken pieces
now scattered over the years

I’ve learned to live
with less of myself
but I’m feeling too small
suddenly

too unseen

incapable of my own
distress
I need to throw off
this cruel longing
and instead find
the doctor
who will help me
put myself back
together

I’ve already sacrificed
my youth to others
my wisdom he has not
earned
doesn’t yet know
how to share
so although I’ve paid
my due

I will leave my tears
here
at the river
and find my way
to higher ground

Day 9: Math Dinner

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Every Thursday night I have a standing dinner date with a group of friends. We try out different restaurants in the area, each week picked by a different member of the group. The idea is to try as many different places as possible, although we do have favorites we recycle often: a Japanese restaurant for their amazing gyoza, a couple of taverns for the crazy selection of craft beer, and a downtown “lounge” for the wonderful food and martinis. Last year the group tried over 25 different places, which is not bad considering fast food restaurants don’t make the cut and our city is not that big.

This group was started by several math faculty where I work and expanded to include a few others invited in over time. There are only eight of us at the moment, although usually one or two can’t make it any given week, so it’s rare lately that the entire group actually shows up. I was invited last year right around the time I broke things off with my ex-boyfriend. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. After all, I was in a position of leaving not only my ex, but most of my friends. He was an extremely social person and had a huge network of friends that got together often. And while I would still consider most of them my friends and still see them periodically, I’m not an idiot. They were his first, so he would always have first dibs on invites. When I moved out, I knew I was leaving behind my current life and would need to move on and find my own.

Having a standing social event every Thursday night became a lifeline for me in those months following my break up. I’m not sure the group really knows that since I’m not one to do a lot of self-disclosing in a crowd. I looked forward to math dinner like someone who’s reading a novel she can’t put down. I enjoyed the quirky conversations that centered around inside jokes (a lot), work (sometimes) and math problems (often). The person who had invited me was a fairly new friend, and one other I knew previously, but the rest, while familiar faces, were new people to me. The becoming in a new friendship is like a flower slowly opening. Lovely at every point, yet the final outcome is uncertain. Will the entire flower emerge? Will it be what you expected? Will it last or wither and fade quickly?

They will laugh at my metaphor, but I’m an English major so they will have to forgive me. In their language, I’m an outlier. But they didn’t cross me off, and for that I’m thankful. I’m still enjoying the becoming…I hope it lasts a very long time.

Day 8

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I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m glad I’m back to work.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the holidays. I loved having time off; I even said more than once that it wasn’t enough time off. But the truth is, I’m a much better person on a routine. Give me days with no structure, and I end up being completely unproductive. I started my vacation with a long list of things I intended to accomplish: wallpaper the family room, paint trim, organize the bags of papers in my office, practice guitar with the online lessons I bought, clean my bedroom, hang new light fixtures, install new faucets, and get caught up on tv shows. I didn’t even travel over the break, thinking I would be so involved in my house projects that it would be best to stay home.  I started out ok. I looked for wallpaper. But then I watched Netflix and got caught up on The Walking Dead. I stayed up late doing so and slept in late, knowing I didn’t HAVE to be anywhere. Once I started my day late and lazy, I had no motivation for dragging out paint or tools for hanging fixtures. So I watched more Netflix. And then moved on to the Hallmark Channel’s constant line-up of sappy Christmas movies that never fail to suck me in. I also accepted invitations to eat out for dinner and go to holiday open houses and plays. Basically, I wasted my holiday vacation doing nothing except whatever felt good at the moment. That’s not a horrible thing, I admit. I haven’t had that luxury in a long time. I also made some great memories with my children and friends. I don’t regret that.

However, I’m really a doer at heart. I have a strong need to be productive and useful. When I become physically unengaged, I find my mind turns a bit to mush as well. I’m not as focused and I begin to feel overwhelmed. My to-do list hangs over me and makes me feel guilty. Therefore, I’m glad to be back to the routine of a daily schedule. I’m sure I’ll complain about it soon; there’s going to be too much to do and not enough time to do it. But I’ll feel a little more balanced. It will be easier to go to the gym right after work than to leave the house to do so. I’ll know that I don’t have a lot of time to waste, so I’ll quit putting things off until later. I’ll use my weekend time a bit more wisely too. I’ll need to–all that time in front of the tv made me realize that I don’t like my tv cabinet. That will need to change. And the walls still need something, even if it’s not wallpaper. That means I’ll need to paint the walls. Of course if I change the color, I may need to change up some of the artwork…Yes. It’s a good thing I’m back at work. I have way too much on my to-do list already.

Day 7

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Today I stopped by the gym on my way home. I’m trying to get back into the routine that the holidays disrupted. After a quick hour there, I was eager to get home and eat. I know, judge me later. There’s more coming…

As a sat at the light to turn left into my neighborhood, I realized that the line of cars was unusually long. Normally, it’s just me and MAYBE one other car turning left at that light on any given time of day. Tonight there were at least five in front of me. I couldn’t tell exactly since I was at the end of the line. When the light turned and we got the green arrow, two cars went through. And then none. Now I need to pause here to explain something. I’m a pretty laid-back person most of the time. I don’t get angry often or throw tantrums. I rarely raise my voice. In fact, my children hate when I swear, so I even try to limit myself to swearing only around people who don’t care–or to when I’m in my car. I do hate driving (mostly I hate other drivers) and I can get worked up and swear like the proverbial sailor when I do. Therefore, when the light turned and only two cars went through, the conversation in my car went something like this:

What the. Seriously?? What the HELL. Why didn’t you go?!? Are you KIDDING me? Who’s asleep up there?? ARGH!

At this point, I was willing to admit that maybe the light changed too quickly which SUCKED, so I calmed down. Finally, the light changed again, green arrow appeared, and…NOTHING.  NO CAR MOVEMENT.  Now the conversation (I am alone in the car, by the way) went along the lines of something my kids would be ashamed to hear, so I won’t actually put it in writing. Needless to say, I was pissed that I had to sit through two red lights and was still no closer to home. I was desperate to get into the shower since I was still sweaty from my workout and my sensitive skin breaks out if I wait too long. Never mind that the gym is across the street from my neighborhood and the light in question is literally two streets away from my house. I wanted to get home.

When the light turned green, I jerked my way out of the clogged turn lane and discovered, as I had by then assumed, that someone was sitting in a stalled car at the front of the turn lane. Poor sucker. I tried not to stare at the car as I drove through the light. It took me only five extra minutes to make my way home, but by then, I felt a bit of chagrin (ok, a lot) for getting so worked up over a short delay. After all, that could have been my stalled car in that turn lane. It was only a few weeks ago that the battery died in my car (although it was in my garage at the time, so I didn’t have to bear the glares of angry motorists). So I’m thankful today for the reminder that on another extremely cold January day, I’m home in my warm house and not stranded in a cold car.