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Jan
05

Last Year

Every year has ups and downs, but 2010 was a bipolar year indeed. The emotions were extreme, and the austerity was only intensified by the stress of taking graduate courses online. By the end of December, I felt numb. It was only fitting that over Christmas break—a time free of sub calls—I got wretched cramps and laid on the sofa pondering the meaning of life.

But December isn’t the summary of 2010 by any means. It’s merely the bitter, cold ending to a tumultuous year. Honestly, I don’t feel as though the year started until May. The first few months involved settling into the routine that I embraced when possible: school work, substitute teaching, time with Dan. We managed to go to Shamrock Fest in March, the event that we honor with bringing us together in 2009, but we left early due to the torrential rains that had us completely soaked. But in May, I was running around like a headless chicken on crack.

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Sep
21

Vacation Post

Dan and I took a long vacation after the summer season at Hershey ended and before substituting got into full swing. He had some random vacation time for a week in September, so we rented a small condo in Dewey Beach that my family used to rent when I was a little kid. This vacation was supposed to start with a Kings of Leon concert, but they canceled (because they’re rat bastards), so it started a day later with us staying in the campground for a couple of days before it was time to move into the condo. Now, I could write about all the delicious restaurants we visited (Mama’s Cantina in Ocean City, Dogfish Head Brewpub, The Cultured Pearl, Nalu, Dos Locos) or all the delicious beer we drank (most of which was Dogfish Head), but that would only serve to make you jealous and/or make my mouth water.

Instead, I’d like to reflect on how being on vacation for an entire week with no commitments made me feel:

Really, really good.

I cannot remember the last time I felt total relaxation. While I did have to complete schoolwork, I didn’t take any textbooks to the beach. I read a trashy magazine and a novel. On a day when the surf was too rough for me to swim, I moved my chair down to the water and watched the waves break. The ocean moved like poetry; the tide seemed to wash away so much of the negativity I carried to the shore with me.

Surprisingly, Dan and I handled living together for over a week pretty well. It was a big test for us as two people in a long distance relationship that normally don’t put up with each other for more than a few days. We slept 11 hours on one of our first days in the condo, and the following day we woke up in time to see the sunrise over the ocean.

It was a wonderful experience because in the shoulder season, the beaches aren’t as crowded and the town is quiet and sleepy. People can bring their dogs to the beach and we watched all the different breeds and how happy they were in the waves. By the middle of the week, we both felt a lot like Peter Gibbons in Office Space. Completely relaxed. Sometimes I felt as happy as the dogs.

I tried to bring the relaxation back with me. For the first time since starting grad school, I turned in an assignment late because I wanted to go to bed at a decent time and refused to stress out about deadlines. I am continuing to relax a bit this week, since yesterday was my 26th birthday and I am still working part-time at Hershey on Sundays and Wednesdays. I need to clean up my office and get my life organized before subbing picks up so that I can keep school, subbing and Hershey straight. I hope that I can keep this positive attitude.

Perhaps someday soon I’ll write a post about all that we imbibed whilst in Slower Lower Delaware. Hopefully with some pictures from Dan’s Nikon rather than my cell phone.

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Aug
03

Get Well Soon, SW.

Life can change so quickly. Just a matter of seconds can change the course of years, and mere minutes can determine life or death. One doesn’t usually consider how fragile life is on a daily basis when going about work that seems both tedious and straightforward. In this case, climbing a ladder on an ordinary day to do a task that wasn’t quite part of the job description but nonetheless a responsibility borne by an overburdened plant manager almost cost a life. And now those of us who love this man sit reeling in the aftermath.

Tragedy is personal. Nine years ago, the nation faced September 11 and a week later that paled in comparison to a car accident at my high school. A year ago, my godfather was killed in a traffic accident; he left behind a wonderful, loving wife and two sons who have since become fathers without their father in their life. It is horrifying what these families have gone through. To anyone who has lost someone completely, who has had someone suddenly ripped from their life, my sadness may seem selfish. I make no apologies for my egocentricity. I acknowledge that each individual disaster is its own experience. All I can do is live in this moment. I am heartbroken. I am helpless.

So I continue to stalk Facebook for news and ask friends for prayers. I carry on spreading the word about this horrible accident, his condition, his prognosis to those who care to listen. I keep talking about him with a stiff lip and no tears because I am resolute in my strength. I wait for news; all sources report slightly different descriptions, but it’s all I have to go on at this time. I fear actually seeing the damage, because I know my strength will leave me and I will have to face the magnitude of what happened. In text it is just a story, a bad dream. The change has not yet been realized in this house, though the emptiness is starting to show itself.

Now that I know how quickly things can change, I try to stay optimistic, but I fear bad news. The helplessness mixes with hope, but nothing is finite. I must subsist on the love and prayers of friends and family and maintain my own good thoughts. I must remember that many people feel this tragic heartbreak, because many people love this man. My biggest hope is that he knows how much we all care.

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Jun
05

On Friendship

Lately, I’m stressed out. I’m working at Hershey Central Reservations over the summer to earn some much needed money while taking three classes. I came home after eight straight days of working to my wonderful boyfriend with whom I shared a relaxing Friday with errands and an afternoon matinee of Get Him to the Greek. Today we had a dinner party for some of my old (and new) friends, and I was reminded of how lucky I truly am.

Megan and Meredith are the closest I’ve ever had to sisters. We were in Girl Scouts together from Brownies through high school graduation, and in the seven years since high school graduation we’ve managed to stay friends. There were times when we didn’t get along and maybe even disliked each other, but now that we’re older, we appreciate the history we share. We can sit down for a meal and it seems like we never spent any time apart. Today, Meredith entertained us with stories of near-death experiences on her travels to Africa, and Megan provided much-needed updates on how she returned to this area to pursue her career.

Megan and Mer weren’t the only friends present. Dan, of course, was here; Kim, who I met through Dan and Keanan, stopped by after a wedding shower in Lebanon; and Megan’s wife, Kara, accompanied her. These represent a newer circle of relationships, an extension of friendships forged in the past. Friends introduce friends to their friends and friendships or relationships blossom. People connect. It’s fascinating to take a step back at the end of the day and reflect on the conversations of the day. So few people can make me laugh the way I laughed today. And I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

The food was great, too. Parties have become much more classy since the days of jungle juice. Mer and I did manage to kill two bottles of white, drinking about 3/4 of a bottle each. She also brought stuffed mushrooms that went over quite well and Dan and I had picked up crackers, veggies, hummus and horseradish cheddar bacon spread at market that morning. The main course was grilled chicken, pasta salad and corn on the cob. We finished with some delicious pie. Food only managed to quiet us for a few moments, though. The central focus of the day was conversation and stories of the past and discussions of the present and future.

I know that I’m extraordinarily lucky to have such amazing friends in my life. I know that my family and Dan love me, but the love in my house today was different than the love that’s here at other times. Today, my home was filled with sisterhood (sorry, Dan, you’re an honorary sister). We share a history and common interests and a general concern for each other’s well being. We are a family, fashioned from scouting, built on social networks and brought together by benevolent forces. We are fortunate, and I will try to remember this when times are rough.

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Apr
14

Is this real life?

Sometimes I feel like my world is standing still while my friends’ worlds are whizzing by at record paces. People around me are getting married, getting jobs, having kids, moving to foreign countries–they’re having life experiences and I’m… not.

Other times, it feels like my life is rushed and filled to the point of bursting. I feel like I’m barely clinging on to my sanity. I see people living happy, carefree lives and I envy them.

Perhaps the real situation is that everyone is somewhere between these two places. No one is completely carefree. We all have bills and deadlines to meet. Marriage, children, jobs, houses–they just compound the stress of life itself. In some ways I’m lucky that I do not have those things to worry about. My employment situation is glorified hobo and the white picket fence is a long way off. I won’t have to worry about a mortgage or diapers or contracts for a couple of years. Still, I have to keep telling myself that I’m working toward something or the day to day breathing becomes too much.

My dear friend and “little brother” wrote on my Facebook today that I have to be passionate about teaching. I think I am, but am I passionate enough? I really look forward to working with a classroom of my own, but I’m nervous. I’m more nervous about completing the process and jumping through the hoops of student teaching and Praxis testing, but it’s still just another stressful element in this path I have chosen for myself. And I’m always questioning if it’s the right path. I’ve had a good break from subbing due to PSSA testing and conflicting schedules, and I can honestly say that I don’t miss it all that much. I’ve already entered the mindset for my summer job, which might just be a necessary coping mechanism.

I wonder if I’ve missed my calling. I wonder if this is what I’m supposed to do. Friends–well, more likely friends of friends–would turn to religion here and pray for answers or something. I could consult my tarot cards. I could put my faith in what my friends tell me. I could believe in myself for once.

I’ve kind of hit a wall. I guess that’s what April is, and possibly always has been, for me. I think I was usually fairly frustrated by this time of year in undergrad, and most certainly in 2008 and 2009, I was slowly going crazy by this time of year. I want to be passionate about my classes, about subbing, about life–but right now I just keep asking myself two questions:

Is this real life? and

Can we go to the beach yet?

Indian River, May 2009

I need this.

Category: Life in CEPA, Teaching & Learning, Unchecked Baggage  Tags: , , , ,  Leave a Comment
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