Picture this:

Halloween party. Myself, a multitude of friends, including those I have yet to meet. Keg out back, tequila (lime and salt included) standing guard in the kitchen. Jolly good times all around.

Now enter into this picture another, as to yet unrelated, image: that of my boss, the head of the English Department at the high school I am currently student teaching at. Blonde hair, pretty, composed and FIFTY THREE YEARS OLD.

Now slingshot one directly into the other-- WHAM! BAMB! CRASH! KABOOOOOMMMM!

Get the picture?

Oh, and did I mention the fact that I just happened to be decked out in full skankorific regalia as only Halloween could properly condone? [Sexy mental patient = the perfect opportunity to be skanky AND demented at the same time!!!! perfection!]

Needless to say, you can surely imagine the "worlds crashing" sound effects that rang in my ears when Ms. X walked in the door to the aforementioned KEG PARTY. To be more specific, I ran. No, seriously. I ran out of the house, covering my eyes until I reached a deceivingly safe Rhododendron out back. Perhaps if I just shut my eyes tight enough and squated in the dirt long enough, this would not be happening?? Surely the embarrassement and HORROR of the current situation would soon pass away into a tequila-induced blur?

After several minutes of seriously contemplating my options [the strange looks I was receiving continued to convince me that I was not quite as undetectable as I once believed] and surveying my surroundings, I came to the harsh yet irrevokable decision that I must, indeed, face my fear, [wo]mano a [wo]mano.

Flash ahead, one hour. Ms. X and myself, raising our filled to the brim shot glasses into the air and triumphantly sending out a toast to the noble teaching profession. Lick, drink, suck.
Seal with a mid-air high five and you have yourself one mighty fine evening.
CHEERS!

Sucking of the Marrow

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it...."

--Henry David Thoreau
from Walden

Things I love in this moment:

Bluegrass music
Manhattan, the Woody Allen movie
Paris Green, the color of my bedroom walls
Bumblebees
The cobblestone streets of Vienna and the
sparkling lights that reflect off of their
worn smooth surfaces
Daisies
Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches
Grilled--so that the peanut butter is runny
and gooey
sticking to my fingers and dripping down
my chin
Strawberry Milk, sipped from a spoon
And pearlescent nailpolish
pretty and
pink.
But most of all,
in this moment,
I love the smell of my own skin
And the beat of my own heart.

Hi there! Long time no see. I know it has been awhile since I have posted anything. To be honest, I have been avoiding it. I havn't been looking forward to explaining myself as of late. I know, I know, I don't need to explain anything but, well, I guess that just isn't my style. I don't like suppressing things, witholding information; it doesn't feel right to me. So, attatched you will find an email I sent to my dear friend Tom this past week. I think it covers everything pretty well.

Tom,

So it has been awhile since we have corresponded-- that whole "life" thing, getting in the way. (go figure) I feel like a lot has happened since I last emailed you; I'm sure you have been pretty busy on your end as well.

I suppose the best place to start is at the end: I got my heart broken, again. How is that possible, you might ask? After all, it has only been 4 1/2 months since I got back from New Mexico. Honestly, I don't know. He was a friend of mine; I've known him for over two years now. One night in mid-july, we met up for dinner with another mutual friend and, for whatever reason, something switched. It really was that instantaneous. We then spent the next 3 1/2 weeks together, spending every free moment we had wrapped up in each other. A lot of that was because he was leaving, off to California to "find himself, be irresponsible, and promote his art." Yeah, that. Who knew when he would becoming back, if ever. We spent a week in New York before he left, during which time I fell in love with him. Head over heals; done. I couldn't help it. Then he left and I cried and came back to -----ville to start my student teaching, which has been the most stressful, draining, exhausting, perplexing, fulfilling thing I have ever done. We had very little correspondence for nearly a month and a half, at which point, out of the blue, he told me that he loved me and was coming home. well, you can imagine, I'm sure, my reaction. I was ecstatic, yes, but hesitant. I still didn't trust that it could be true, that he was actually coming back to me. And I didn't really accept it, not until the morning his plane was supposed to arrive. Only then did I let it sink in fully, let it envelop me and take me over. This too was a mistake. He came back, eventually, but not as the man I fell in love with, but as someone else: distant, confused, and selfish. You see, when he told me he loved me and was coming home, I foolishly interpreted that as "I love you and I am coming home for you, to be with you." I wasn't prepared for the "I don't really know what I want" speech, which consisted of him explaining that he knew he wanted me in his life, but he wasn't sure how or what that meant. He wanted me, yes, but he also wanted the possibility of someone else. Back to the whole cake-eating thing. I suppose he felt like I was just supposed to hang around until he figured it out, which I could have done, it's true. I did, actually, for about a week, during which time I thought everything was finally starting to fall into place, just like it used to be. Then he floors me with the "I think we are moving too fast" talk and everything proceeds to fall apart from there.
So now it is over and I am heartbroken. I don't know if it is that I have never truly felt this before or if I have simply forgotten what it felt like. Either way, I don't like it. At times I feel like the physical representation of agony. But, like most things, it comes in waves, the good and the bad. Sometimes all I really want to do is just curl up in a ball and cry, or even worse, just lay there, thinking of him and what might have been. Danger, I know. I just wish I could shut my mind off, keep myself from remembering. It's the memories that are killing me. Suddenly the premise of Eternal Sunshine doesn't seem so absurd. If only I didn't remember how beautiful it was then, maybe we could at least go back to the way things were before any of this even happened; perhaps then I could at least have my friend back.
At first I even understood. I remembered how I felt with my ex, Dan: that feeling of knowing you want to be with someone, but also knowing, deep down, that it just isn't right, that this isn't the end of the line. That restlessness, that fear. I thought I understood because I had been there before, and somehow, this gave me comfort. But recently, I have lost that sense of understanding. There is one key difference between Paul's* situation and my own: I gave it a try. I tried to make things work with Dan before I threw it all to the wind. But Paul, he couldn't even do that. He couldn't even try. And that, that pains me more than anything. The frustration of not knowing whether we were good for each other or not. At least then, if it didn't work out, we would KNOW. But this, this is just torture, this not knowing. Then again, perhaps the not-knowing is a kind of knowing all in and of itself. ya know?
The truth is, I know I deserve better. I know I deserve someone who will sweep me off of my feet and make me feel truly beautiful, someone who will lift me up rather than contually breaking me down. Logically, I know all of these things. Then why? Why do I allow myself to put up with things that I wouldn't otherwise? Why does my heart want him and only him?? Will that go away? Do I just have to ignore it long enough until it fades, when all I want to do is embrace it for as long as I possibly can because that, even that, makes me feel closer to him? I feel the pain and it reminds me of how much I loved, it reminds me of him. There is an odd, demented sort of comfort in that; I don't know if I am ready to let go-- of the pain or, as a result, of him.
My cooperating teacher, Mrs. C, and I were talking the other day and she said something that really stuck: She said that, when you are teacher, everything is always ok. No matter what is going on in your life, no matter how shitty things get, when you come to school, you have to put it all away somewhere and pretend that everything is ok. You do that enough, day after day, and sooner or later you convince even yourself. I can definitely see this now. I wake up in the mornings and all I want to do is stay in bed all day and wallow. But I can't. So I get up, I get dressed, I even put on makeup and do my hair. Then I come to school and I smile and give away all of my energy to these kids, whether they deserve it or not. By the end of the day, I don't feel like wallowing any more. I smile and hum to myself and somehow I have managed to forget about him, even for a moment. Still, by the time I get home, I am exhausted and worn down. I keep going though; I meet up with friends or go drink some tea or go work out, anything that keeps me busy and away from the house, away from my room and the memories associated with it. When I finally do get home, I plan for the next day and try to get in bed before midnight, ready to start it all over again at six the next morning.
I'm tired, Tom. I feel like I keep getting beat down. It's like that Ben Harper song, "Don't let them take the fight out of you..." I really like that song. I feel like the fight in me is dying and I don't like it. I'm doing everything I can to keep it alive, to just keep punching, no matter how wimpy the punches may be at the time. Just keep punching...

So I guess that's where I'm at now. I'm still punching, still fighting. I surround myself with people who love and support me, feeding off of their energy and their love. I don't think they even know how much I am depending on them right now. Then again, maybe they do.

Well it is lunchtime; I am writing you during my planning period. I leave you to eat my apple and grade papers. ( I wish I could say that were simply a metaphor, but, alas, I speak the truth!)
I am anxious to hear how things are going for you. Please send me an update whenever you get the opportunity!

With Love,
Candace

* For whatever it's worth, this name has been changed for obvious reasons.

Appendix A:

Fight Outta You
By Ben Harper

They'll look you in the eyes and stone you
Then turn and disown you,
Don't you let them take the fight outta you
They'll walk all over your name 'til they find someone else to blame,
Don't let them take thefight outta you
Secrets hide their lies inside hidden alibis,
Don't let it take the fight outta you
They put the world on a hook,
It's worse every time I look
Don't let them take the fight outta you

I would rather take a punch than not give you a shot
I'd rather find out who you are than who you're not
Should have known better than to mistake business for love
Should have known better than to mistake a fist for a glove

It will be in your honor 'til you're not needed any longer,
don't let them take the fight outta you
Don't believe the headlines, check it for yourself sometimes,
Don't let them take the fight outta you
The lies you live become you, the love you lose it numbs you,
Don't let it take the fight outta you
They say that you've arrived but that's just a high-class bribe,
Don't let it take the fight outta you

I would rather take a punch than not give you a shot
I'd rather find out who you are than who you're not
Should have known better than to mistake business for love
Should have known better than to mistake a fist for a glove

There's always someone younger, someone with more hunger,
Don't let it take the fight outta you
They'll say you're the one and only
Then straight up leave you lonely,
Don't let them take the fight outta you
Like a transplant-patient waiting for a donor,
Don't let it take the fight outta you
Like a half empty balloon after a party in the corner,
Don't let them take the fight outta you.

Damn straight. You tell 'em Ben. You sing it!

That is all. On to more pressing matters next time...

Word

This past Friday, I taught a lesson on persuasive rhetoric. I began by brainstorming on the board all of the purposes of language: to communicate, to express ideas (expressive writing), to hurt/slander/blackmail (sticks and stones...), to convey information, to persuade (persuasive language), etc. The lesson itself only lasted five or ten minutes before we moved on to the main activity, but it's importance is immeasurable. I don't know if any of my students truly grasped the magnamity of what we were discussing. After all, how do you really "get" something that big? Do any of us ever truly grasp how freakin' awesome language really is?
Allow me to clarify: I am an English teacher. I love language. My life revolves around language in all its myriad of forms. Words sustain me; they sustain us all, I think, in some way or another. Some may say that knowledge is power. Though not untrue, where would knowledge be without the language to express it? Thus I prefer "Language is power." Perhaps I shall make it my mantra. I shall cut it out in big felt letters (yellow, orange and red, of course) and post it on my corrigated bulletin board, right next to the autumn-inspired maple leaf cutouts.
If this is all true, if "Language is Power" is to dominate my classroom and my life, why do I feel like I am losing faith? If language is my religion, I am secretly becoming an atheist.
I mean honestly, do words really MEAN anything? In the end, they are just letters, stuck together, one behind another, in a particularly symbolic way to REPRESENT a thought, idea, feeling, etc. They aren't an independent entity at all, but a watered-down carbon copy of the original, the core. Or, even worse, they act as an amplifier, taking what may be but an acorn on the inside and displaying it as a full-grown tree to the outer world.
The same people who say "knowledge is power" also claim that sometimes, actions speak louder than words. This time, I would have to agree with them. I'm tired of empty words, words, words!!! Sometimes I just wish the world would stop talking and start doing. If you want something, go get it. If you can't get it, do everything in your power to climb that mountain for as long as it takes for you to reach the top. Don't talk about climbing it. Don't plan or strategize or pack. Even worse, don't sit around making excuses as to why you can't get there. Just do it. Maybe Nike had it right all along. If you believe in a particular religion, live it. If you don't, don't. If you want to be a good friend to someone, show them how much you care about them by being there, being that shoulder or that dinner or that smile. And if being a good friend means sitting up talking into the wee hours of the morning, then by all means, TALK! But don't use language to fill a void, to fill up a space that you are too lazy to fill yourself. And don't use language to make yourself feel something you don't, because it can and it will, if you let it.
Which brings me to my last point: if you love someone, show them. show them that love; be that love. Don't write sonnets or profess undying love in four syllable words. Listen. Hug. Kiss. Hold. Laugh. Cook. Clean. Walk. Listen. Talk. yes, talk!! Talk words that are filled to the brim!! Talk words that MEAN SOMETHING, that you feel down to your very core. Let them spill out of you like water, ebbing and flowing. Let your words keep your love afloat, taking it to places it could never have reached on its own! Use your words, whether they be accorns or trees or those same maple leafs that are displayed on my bulletin board. Just let them be alive!!! I am tired of dead words--empty promises and empty dreams.
Perhaps I am not losing faith in language after all; I just can't stand seeing it abused. I can't handle it any more. I say that because in the past, I have been one of the cheif abusers, using language as a means to an end, as a way to make substantial something that was essentially transient.
So you go language. You rock that. You know I still love you. I still believe. I believe in your power. I suppose it isn't so surprising, then, that something so powerful can be so easily abused.

In conclusion, I would just like to note the inherent irony of writing a blog about the ineffectiveness of words.
Damn it.
hahaha!

Ladyfriends

The other night I was having trouble sleeping. I kept tossing and turning as my mind shifted from one doubt/worry/fear to another. I tried doing some breathing excercises; I even tried yelling at myself, thinking that might work. (Hey! it had worked in the past!) Still, I could not shake the cloud of negativity that was now hovering over my bed.

So I thought I would try something else:

I turned over on my back, hands by my side, and took a few, measured breaths. Suddenly, I was no longer alone. Slowly, all of my close ladyfriends began gathering along my bedside. Meg, Anita, Wendy, and Annie were there. Liz and Caroline were there. Carrie, Cody, Ashley. My mom and my sister. As I lie there, more and more came. They didn't come to chastize me or tell me what was wrong and what I could do to make it better. They didn't even give me their sympathy or coat me with "you poor thing." Instead, they reached out and touched me. Just one hand. Just a gentle touch, a recognition of their presence. And they smiled. They smiled down on me and surrounded me with their positive energy and their support.

I remember feeling this insurmountable glow of light and peace. Take THAT you big mean scary insecurities! Try getting to me NOW! I suddenly felt protected and powerful in a way I had never really felt before. Why is that? Why is there such power in the collective feminine? And, most importantly, why do we fail to utilize this power more often? Can you imagine what could be accomplished, in our own lives as well as the world at large, if we as women decided to join forces instead of constantly piting ourselves against one another? Maybe it is overly optimistic of me, but I feel like the possibilities are literally endless! Women really can change the world, if only we put our minds to it.

Now boys, I don't mean to leave you out. I know there is a lot to be said for male comraderie and the like. But I'm not a boy. So that doesn't really do much for me, now does it?

I guess my point is this: Thank you. To all the women in my life: thank you. I don't think I would be nearly as strong, independent, expressive, or passionate without you. My tears would not be nearly as salty and my laughter would not carry nearly so far.
I love you.

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are

And if you want to live high, live high
And if you want to live low, live low
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

Chorus:
You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo
you see ah ah ah
its easy ah ah ah
You only need to know

Well if you want to say yes, say yes
And if you want to say no, say no
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

And if you want to be me, be me
And if you want to be you, be you
'Cause there's a million things to do
You know that there are

Chorus

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are

--Cat Stevens