If I could be anything, I would be..

...an artist. Any kind: writer, musician, painter, or photographer... Here's why:
True artists immerse themselves in their creativity, reposing with their muses for a while, feeling their souls break free from their bodies through extensions of their instruments be they pens, pianos, paints, or pictures. How incredible it must be to linger in that space, even if it is uncomfortable. They are risk takers in several ways both physically and emotionally. They push people to reflect about their own lives and invite souls to connect to theirs making them (and us) completely vulnerable. They open fire doors.

I've been thinking about my job - English teacher - a lot lately. I realize how much of my life is consumed by my job, how much I mercilessly give to that profession, and I pray that it's the right thing to do. I hope that my investment is somehow sacred or at least worthy. Otherwise, what the hell am I doing? I love being a teacher, though bureaucracy and money make my job just shy of impossible to do well. I don't care if my students love literature or even reading for that matter. What I do hope for is that they:

1. Learn to weigh their decisions judiciously with the understanding that every decision they make affects something/someone else.

2. Learn that people are people and that none are better than others, that sometimes circumstance affords people opportunities that others do not have and sometimes circumstances are just absolute shit. No matter what, there are people in worse places and ones in better ones. Life isn't fair and we shouldn't form opinions about people or circumstance without considering the truth of this.

3. Learn to effectively communicate with each other via speaking, writing, art, or any other medium they can come up with. This means understanding and implementing "the basics" of reading and writing at the very least, and at the very most creating poetry*.

4. Spend time in mature, honest reflection and form fair, cogent arguments or representations of their ideas to share with others.

5. Learn to think. Period. Especially in a world that is so eager and easy to manipulate..

I happen to use literature as a medium to get them recognize these things. In presenting my understandings of characters and situations, writings and interpretations, I become vulnerable to them and them to me. In this way, I am an artist.

However, I'm so tired. They take too much.

So, really if I could be anything, I would choose something else. Something that doesn't depend on the success or failure of another human - something with less responsibility.. A house cat maybe, or a tree.

* Poetry in this case means, "an imaginative awareness of experience expressed through meaning, sound, and rhythmic language choices so as to evoke an emotional response. Poetry has been known to employ meter and rhyme, but this is by no means necessary. Poetry is an ancient form that has gone through numerous and drastic reinvention over time. The very nature of poetry as an authentic and individual mode of expression makes it nearly impossible to define."

This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (If I could be anything, I would be.., this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.

Friday Night Salon

When was the last time you had a genuine conversation--an experience not of mere self-assertion but of speaking and listening as though you had something both to offer and to receive? Our habits of language define us, but the pace of our lives is such that the simple gestures of listening carefully and speaking prudently are amazingly rare. The Friday Night Salon aims at being an alternative to the urban rush that denies the civilizing graces of community.

1. Are there "unalienable entitlements"?
2. What brings us happiness?
3. Is learning a competitive activity? Should it be?

(im)maturity

Maturity - I have none.

It comes (or probably 'goes is the better term) with the job. I am currently- at this very moment- sitting in a high school writing lab with my literary magazine staff who are lovely, mostly vegan, free spirits. We are on deadline, working furiously late into the afternoon so that we can get the mag to the printer by Monday. We've had coffee and soy milk, peanut free, gluten free, egg-less cookies, and we're just about delirious with our work. Here are brief snippets of random conversations going on around the room:

"The first line of that song makes me feel purple."

"Do you guys want to see a video of me and my friend lip-syncing to a French song?"

(A student is in the middle of a joke until it's hijacked by James)
"Takin' the punchline of my jokes.. (clicking sound) Thanks, James."

"Stop grinding on me like that!"

"Hey, come look at my things!"
"I'll look at your things."
"Your mom has things."

"Goo goo g'joov"
"I am the Walrus."

"Hey guys, do you want to taste some of my delicious margarita candies?"

"That is such bushlee!" (The word the kids use instead of 'bullshit')

"Technology hates me so much right now in this time of my life.."

"Oh how I miss sophomore year in French class!"

"People don't name their children Syphilis!"
"Oh yes they do!"

"Guys, I just had a super awesome idea!!
(Much too enthusiastic high five)
Ow!"

"Ok, I'll shut up now."

"That kiwi looks inviting."

There is no being mature in this job, and I'm ok with that. :) Thanks, my darling Navel Gazers, for your hard work today, even if you have attention spans of gnats!!! (Yarrrr-ly!)

This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Maturity, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.

Art

All art is quite useless. - Oscar Wilde

I want to be able to say that Wilde got it wrong, that art is not only useful but necessary. I want to be able to say that art communicates in a way that words can't, that it crosses divides and erases lines in the sand. One of my friends once argued that in a declining society, art flourishes. It communicates desolation, heartache, and sometimes the few joys that are sifted out of the ashes. I certainly can imagine that to be true.. Also, though, art can be anything - funny, scandalous, horrific, gorgeous - and as such can only hold the meaning assigned to it by the interpreter. In that way, when the interpreter walks away, the art, as Wilde asserts, is useless.

My students often ask me when studying literature how we can truly know what the author's intent truly is in his/her writing. I often tell them that it's not that we're trying to fully know the author's intent, but that there is a communication between the reader and the text. In that place is where we find true, legitimate meaning. Perhaps the meaning only exists in that invisible correspondence between art and viewer. Meaning is less controlled, not firm. It allows for anyone creating anything to be the artist. It allows for reasonable (and unreasonable) conclusions.

The students then ask if they can answer the question of meaning wrong.

"Yes, absolutely," is the answer.

*Painting by Wassily Kandinsky
This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Art, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.

Friends and Enemies

I had trouble writing about this topic, honestly. I really wanted to write about politics - how they've invaded our friendships and families like a virus does, invisibly, violently. Politics have destroyed relationships to the point that we have to pretend that all is well even though our differing opinions sit at the surface of every conversation, unspoken yet understood. So, I'll post a pop video. Pink. She's fun. We all deal with self loathing, so..



This post was inspired by the Loose Bloggers Consortium, a small and feisty(!) global community. We write weekly on a common topic (Friends and Enemies, this week) and post responses - all of us together, simultaneously, from all over the world. (Lovely!) Please visit Anu, Ashok, Conrad, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana for other wonderful posts.

Oooooh...

In the twenty minutes I had today between school and picking up Jack, I stopped at my favorite coffee spot for a much needed pick-me-up. One of my favorite barristas, Annie, was working. Here was our conversation:

Annie: Hey! How's it going?

Me: The usual. You?

A: Nothing to report, really.. Well actually, I had an interview for a grown-up person job.

M: Oh really? How'd it go?

A: Not too well, I don't think..

M: What? Why?

A: Well, the interviewer was..um.. different.

M: What do you mean?

A: First of all, she did most of the talking and hardly asked any questions.

M: Not a great interviewing strategy..

A: Yeah. And when she did ask questions, they were weird ones like, 'Have you ever had a fish?' and I was like, 'Uh.. no..' and then she asked, 'Well you know what a fish looks like, right?' and I was all, 'sure', wondering where she was going. Then she took out a piece a paper and started drawing. Can I use your receipt? So on one side of the paper she drew this (drawing a fish-like scribble with teeth - totally abstract), and then asked, 'Do you know what this is?' 'Er, a piranha?' I answered. And she was like, 'Actually it's a Great White Shark.' And then on the other side of the paper she drew this (drawing another fish-like being made mostly of squares) and then she asked, 'Do you know what this is?' 'A clown fish?" I guessed. 'No. It's an angel fish. Here at our company we do NOT want a shark, nor do we want an angel fish! We want this (and she drew another fish scribble in between that looked a lot like the first fish). What do you think this one is, Annie?' And I was all, 'um..it's a,' and I must've paused too long because then she interrupted me and exclaimed, "It's a barracuda!" We want barracudas to work for us, Annie. Are you a barracuda?' And all I could think of was the song.

M: Heart!

A: Yeah. And so I think I nodded. I don't know. But after that she told me that she was looking for someone with more experience for this entry level job. I told her that I was perfect for the position and that I could definitely do a good job, even though I didn't have a lot of experience. She said she'd get back to me, but I don't know.. I wrote her a thank you note -I could really use this job - and I said something like, 'It was great meeting you! I can't wait to be your barracuda."

M: (Laughing really hard)

A: Yep. At least I got a good story out of it.. Maybe I should go to grad school.

Writing Woes

I used to be a writer. I suppose what I mean is I used to connect with people through my writing. Lately everything has been so forced, so impersonal. I hadn't realized to what extent this was true until today when I began going through old posts, especially ones from my first blog, Viaggio.

Obviously, the biggest change since Viaggio is I had a baby. I don't mean to blame him for my writing neglect, but I do mean to say that writing time - hell, thinking time, being time, reading time - is gone for me. Also, I am working full time at a job that demands more than the hourly parameters of what the pay scale defines. Teaching is not a full time job. It's a life consuming one if done correctly. And again, that isn't to say that it's the job's fault. It's just that I choose to make it a priority - children are our future, education is a gateway, yadda yadda, yadda. On top of that I actively work at my marriage, I try to have friendships (though those too have suffered) and run a household. I no longer exercise - that would be an activity that would require alone time.. So, obviously, the writing I do is sub-par.. at least in comparison to what I know I can do and want to do.

I'm pissappointed at little about it. I knew when I had a baby that I would have to make time for me. I didn't realize that the time I made would come in 10 minute increments or less- like the breaths I take between getting out of my car and taking the baby out of his car seat (15 seconds), or the cup of coffee I allow myself on week end mornings before I get the baby out of his crib (10 minutes), for example. I do enjoy a work day once a week - glorious Thursdays! - when Rich picks up Jack from Nanny's and I get to, er.., work. Sometimes I allow myself that time to work on my consortium posts, but mostly that's grading or studying time, apart from the time I work after the baby goes to sleep. I have vowed on many occasions, fists raised, that I will take back my life! And then the baby wakes up from his nap, and as is perfect and lovely, and I become Momma again, relinquishing the "me" that it would take to spend time here.

Mary Oliver, incredible poet and one of my heroes, said all writers should make appointments with themselves. That way they will be committed to the practice. I've tried. Believe me. I just can't seem to get things to fall into place without interruption, whether that be a demand from the baby or from work, or, God forbid, actually talking to my husband away from the clicking of computer keys or grading utensils.

Some would tell me that obviously writing, then, isn't important. That I should put that aspect of my life on hold for a while. Those folks obviously don't know me well enough to understand what writing truly is to me, or really how much writing is a part of who I am. It is me in a sense.

That said, I need to practice. You can't be good at something unless you work on it. I need to work on it.
Maybe this confession will open some doors for me. Maybe the door is only open until I am overwhelmed by my other roles again. A week? Two? In any case, here is some genuine, heartfelt discourse, a bridge hopefully, to a more relatable subject and voice.