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

I attended my first pep rally yesterday. My first pep rally in seven years. "GOOOOO Rockets!!"
What struck me so profoundly was the fact that so little has changed. The football players rush the pre-polished gymnasium floor. They strut and stick out their chests and heaven forbid their arms actually swing or (gasp!) touch the sides of their bodies. As the captains glower about at their adoring fans, the crowd goes WILD, screaming in pure exhaltation. It's all enough to send you into a frenzy. Soon the band begins to play Zoot Zoot Riot [riot!] and I can't hold it off any longer, this feeling of suddenly being fourteen years old again, furtively glancing about, hoping to catch the eye of one particular crush of the week. I have to take a few deep breaths and steady my gaze, reminding myself that no, I am not in the throngs of high-school angst, but twenty two years old, and a teacher at that. I am calm and controlled. These escapades are for the young and the foolhearted, not someone like me: older, mature, settled.

This, of course, is a fantasy as well. I am no more settled than Christopher Columbus as he sailed his ocean blue. When was that, 1492? Punk bastard. Ugh. Ok, maybe I'm selling myself a little short.

Either way, here I am. Actually, I don't think I've mentioned that yet: I am in Blowing Rock, at my aunt's Condo. The view is absolutely breathtaking and I am soaking in as much serenity and relaxation as possible before the coming weeks. There are hummingbirds everywhere, hovering incessantly, as if torn between two worlds: the treetops and the sweet succulence of the feeders. Or perhaps they are just saying hi. I say hi back, naturally, and somehow, all feels right in the world. Is it the hummingbird? the mountains? or is it something deeper, something within myself? Or are all of these one in the same? I like to think the latter.

A Wannabee Blogger

I have always had this tiny little voice in my head telling me to embrace my narcicism head-on and start a blog. Just do it, this voice presses, incessantly reminding me how interesting my life really is. "Wouldn't it be great to share this moment via Times New Roman font and the glories of the internet??" In my fantasies I would write about my life in a witty, border-line flippant tone and people would laugh and say to themselves "oh that Candace!" in obvious admiration. In a perfect world, I would become one of those famous people who become famous simply because everyone reads their blogs, every day yearning for the next installment. What will Candace do next?? Where will she go and, perhaps even more pressing, with WHOM? People around the world would unwittingly begin to live vicariously through me and my stories of love, loss, and life.

In the end, I tell the voice to shut up and go about my day, bloggless and unfullfilled. But no more, I tell you! It ends now!

Honestly though, thank you for reading my first ever blog post. (Brian, that one goes out to you.) The reality of the matter is, my life isn't always that interesting, but I'm going to write about it anyway. The next few months are surely going to be some of the most challenging yet, and I am excited to be able to share that with you. (Note: if my monologues begin to turn into a blubbering mess of explitives and incomprehensible sentence fragments, I apologize. You are forewarned.)

For the sake of documentation, here is a picture of brian and me, at the drip (surprise surprise) at the very moment of my first blog submission. A moment of silence please.