Losing people I never met

Every time I finish a book, I hear a sigh inside of my head; sometimes the sigh is audible and sometimes it is silent, and I feel my breath slow. I almost race to the end, when I can see it and then when I finally reach it and read the last word, I am reluctant to close the book. Closing the book means that the people I have met inside its cover, the characters whose most secret thoughts have been shared with me, the characters who I now know intimately, will never be a part of my life again. Their stories and engagements and connections belong on a shelf now, where once they belonged to me.

I just finished Ann Packer's second new book Songs Without Words. My mind is filled with the thoughts of Sarabeth, the artsy woman whose mother Lorelei committed suicide when she was young and who went to live with her friend Liz's family. I saw myself in Sarabeth, her philosophical view on life, her role as the observer, watching the families around her, while she herself lived alone. I could related to Sarabeth's failed relationships, her search for truth, for intimacy, for connections.

Liz seemed to be the lucky one with the intact family, who took Sarabeth in when her mother died. Liz appeared to have the perfect family with two kids and a husband. Even though Liz now has a completely opposite life from Sarabeth, her life's misfortunes mirror Sarabeth's in a lot of ways. Her daughter Lauren attempts suicide and she has to face as an adult essentially what Sarabeth faced as a child. With the attempt comes a temporary disconnect between Brody and Liz and a lasting disconnect between Sarabeth and Liz.

Brody copes with Lauren's apparent depression by playing tennis in the middle of the night at the courts at Lauren's school. He works. Sarabeth tries to find something inside of her to cope. She doesn't even find out about Lauren's attempted suicide from Liz; instead, Brody calls Sarabeth from the hospital. This crushes Sarabeth, and she and Liz break their friendship.

What is left to say when tragedy occurs? How do we deal with things so permanent, so lasting, so real? These are the questions that all of the characters must face during the book.

What connects all of the women is their art. Liz finally finishes painting a bench that she has started before Lauren's depression; Sarabeth makes lampshades throughout the book and accepts the bench from Liz by the end. Lauren copes by rediscovering her love of art and drawing.

Nothing is permanently fixed by the end of the book. And like life, we as readers wonder if the ties now rebound will remain tied, or if they will unloop once more. The thing is: it doesn't really matter. We are left watching as readers, as Liz and Sarabeth reminisce about their gymnastics show as kids, while they watch the neighbors across the street. And as they watch and the last page is turned, they fade from our lives. And readers, we have lost another group of friends.

Thinking about Time and Old Friends

I could lie and say that I remember college just like it was yesterday, but that isn't true. In fact, college seems like a lifetime ago, like something I experienced in a previous life. Time made sense in college. I always had a roommate, and if she wasn't home, I could always knock on someone else's door. I drank coffee at midnight, sat on the hood of my car to examine stars, and drove up and down the Colonial Parkway in the middle of the night. Those times felt idealistic. I could be anyone and do anything. If I wanted, I could find truth in my freshman hall to the tune of the Macarena, or take a criminology class and aspire to be a sociologist. There were problems in the world, but I could fix them or at least work on fixing them.

Now, it's different. I go to the same job everyday, I live in an apartment with three cats, I spend time with friends, most of whom are married, and the thought of dancing to 80's music in public doesn't even cross my mind. Idealism has been replaced with realism, and I fear that I may never find that truth I've been searching for, or maybe what I'm searching for doesn't even exist. I can't live for the future, because the path has not been created for me, and I am not sure that the things that I want will come into being. I can't knock on a hallmates' door and if I knock on someone's door, I have to worry that a baby might be sleeping.

Today, two of my friends and I will meet one of our good friends from college who now lives in Vegas and is home for Thanksgiving. I have not seen her in four years. I think about the four of us now. She is in Vegas working at a casino. My other friend has just announced that she is pregnant. There are so many things that have changed since college. I am excited to relive some of those years, yet at the same time, I am nastalgic for them, nastalgic for the times when our lives were all on the same pace.

Thankful, Unthankful, Stuffing my Face

You have to love 16 year olds. They really make me laugh. One of the greatest kids I teach came in today and announced that he couldn't wait for Thanksgiving. He said with completely honesty, "I can't wait till Thanksgiving so I can stuff my face and sleep." In fact, isn't that what we all look forward to? But, could any adult be that serious? We may sit at the dinner table and think those same thoughts as we sneak another piece of pumpkin pie or whisper politely if we could have a "small sliver of each." We say the word "small" to convince ourselves and everyone else at the table that we are eating less than them, when in fact, we are really trying to explain why we want two pieces of pie. This kid probably proclaims unapologetically at the table that he wants every type of pie, and people probably smile and admire his honesty and lack of guilt. Sure, Thanksgiving is about family and giving thanks for the things that we do have (and somewhat overlooking for a day the things that we don't), but let's be honest...We all love Thanksgiving because we can eat and eat and eat without anyone noticing and blame all of our weight gain later on "the holidays," as if two days out of a year can make any person gain ten pounds. But, we all do it, and people nod their heads in agreement. "I know," they say. "It's so hard." But, not this kid. This kid disagrees. He tells the truth about turkey day- it's all about the pie.

And so it goes

Today I was a normal person. I was not a runner. I spent the day in my pajamas, guilty about not working out, yet at the same time bored by even the thought of getting on the elliptical. So, I ate soup, drank coffee, and spent the evening at a bar, laughing with newfound friends and trying to remember the last time I felt this "unstressed." In a lot of ways I am terrified of letting go of running, of intense training, of intense control over food and drink. But, when I get a taste of calm life, of laughter without any pretenses, I begin to realize that I need to take everything in stride. And so, here I am on a Sunday night at 10:50, over an hour past my bedtime, trying to reflect on life and my desires and hopes and motivations. I am trying to throw rules out the window, to live how I see fit, to try to enjoy moments, minutes, rather than worry about turning 30 and being nowhere near where I thought I would be. There is a reason I'm here now. There is a reason my life has formed itself around certain people, and has taken the turns it has taken. I don't regret any of that. Sometimes, I just need to remember to feel like this, to feel calm and ready to move where the wind takes me.

Getting over past little by little

I think that very often when times change and things are over, I have a very difficult time dealing with the new reality of my life. I, like many other people, find change to be difficult to cope with.

Two changes prompted this thought. First, I ran my final run with the Sportsbackers team this morning. My next Sportsbackers run will be in 2009. I have decided to take time off of running until my appointment on the 28th, and I am not planning right now to train for a spring marathon. Thus, I will have to adapt my life around this change. I am going to try to start engaging in new forms of exercise. I have started going to this Dance Trance class at the gym and I am very interested in taking yoga classes. I suppose for cardio I will have to deal with the elliptical or the bike. I am prepared to accept this change, and everyday I think about it, it gets easier.

Second, my ex boyfriend Craig who I dated for almost three years has refused to speak to me since we broke up over a year ago. I contacted him recently, and he finally wrote back, saying that he did not want to keep in contact with me because he thought that it would be too hard. The finality of our relationship and the reality of never talking to him again really brings closure to the whole situation. It feels like that part of my life has been erased, as if it never existed. The change there is more in my thought pattern. We both tried very hard to make our relationship work, and for some reason or another, we just couldn't do it. I know that, but it's hard to accept the fact that someone I spent that long with will never speak to me again. The idea is chilling.

I am ready for new relationships in my life .I am ready for new forms of exercise. But, the newness of it all , the uncertainty of everything really scares me. The lack of control I have over new relationships and the lack of control I have over the pain in my hip is the piece that is very frightening.

Running Marathons and Getting Injured

So, I started crying last night. No, no one died. I didn't get fired from my job. I didn't lose my cats. My hip hurt. Not only did it hurt, but it also meant that I may have to take time off of running. As I was googling "bursitis," my self diagnosis, I read a post that mentioned taking six weeks off of running. The thought of taking six weeks off of running meant a lot of things. First, it meant essentially giving up my own form of therapy. Running is one of the only things that makes me feel strong, alive, energetic, and self confident. Second, it meant really watching what I eat and stressing about calories and fat grams. Running, for one thing, allows me to eat without worrying about gaining weight. I know that as long as I run and somewhat watch what I eat, sneaking in a cookie here and then, that I will remain thin and toned. Without it, I am afraid of what will happen to my body. Third, it meant a void in my life. Running is a social activity, a cleansing activity, and an after school activity. Where would I go after school if I didn't go to the gym? Fourth, running gives me goals. When I am training, I am working towards the goal of running a race in a certain time. These goals give me landmarks in my life and events that I can prepare for and look forward to.

The funny thing is, that my sport is other sports' punishments. If a kid is late to football practice, chances are his punishment will be to run laps. One bad play on a field may result in team runs, which are essentially payments for mistakes. Despite this, I love running. Marathon runners are often viewed as obsessed people who are control freaks. I take full responsibility for this. But, I love every second of it. I even love the pain at the end of the marathon, the final push at mile 26, knowing that I will cross the finish line. I love the way my hair freezes while running outside in the winter, and the way I am soaking wet in all temperatures after a long run. I love it so much, that the possibility of giving it up brings me to tears.

My students think I'm dumb

After reading a journal article published by the National Association of Teachers of English about blogging as a discussion activity for students outside of the classroom, I decided to propose the option to my creative writing students. Energetically, I told them how I had started to blog my own experiences with running, life, and teaching. I mentioned that teachers have been using the concept of blogging in the classroom, and students were posting blogs to discuss reading for the class. I was met with frowns and silence, except for the superstar of the class, who met me with a profound, "I think blogs are dumb." So, instead of trying to answer in my own words, I flipped to the article and used the language of the author. I quoted several passages in which the particular teacher used blogs in the classroom. Instead of an approval, once again I was shot down with a rolling of the eyes that only a teenager can get away with. "I mean, no offense, but who wants to read your journal? You are just publishing your diary." She said it with such conviction that I wondered for a second who had the masters degree and the publication background and who, in fact, was teaching the class. To the class as a whole, I shrugged and said that I thought that it would be a good activity to write everyday. I dropped the subject after that. Aren't kids completely into technology? Aren't blogs the new fad? Did I miss something or are kids completely uninterested in writing anything beyond cryptic text messages? I suppose that complete sentences are no longer "cool." I need to take a brush up class.

Being 16

I am surprised by the amount of information 16 year olds don't know. I gave out a test today, and I was asked a serious of mind boggling questions. Now, mind you, these are private school relatively intelligent kids. Question #1 : What does investigative mean? Hmmmm. "Investigate" is a middle school word, maybe even an elementary school word. Did the adjective form confuse them? Could that be it? Do they not recognize the word used by many television shows. Hasn't anyone seen CSI? Hasn't anyone read a book? Question #2: What is point of view? Hmmmm...I am writing this blog from MY point of view. This is first person because I am using the word "I." Question #3: When the question says, "What is the role of women in the text," what does that mean? My response: "It means what is the role of women in the text." Student response: "Oh." There is a reason I teach. Part of the reason is to develop a sense of humor, learn patience and try not to cringe with each question. Score: Students: 3 Me: 0

There was another event today that made me laugh and sigh all at the same time. Let me preface this event with an admittance. While I try not to focus on my appearance too much, I do get somewhat frazzled if I don't have enough time to get ready in the morning or if I forget my watch, makeup, jewelry, etc. I am as girly and concerned with superficiality as the next person. I like to blame it on society. It makes me feel better. Nevertheless, I would never go out of my way and be late to work if I forgot one of the earlier mentioned accessories. There is, however, I sixteen year old in my honors class who believes firmly in jewelry and earrings, so much that she wants to return home when she forgets one of her accessories. She told me in class the other day that she regularly makes her dad turn the car around in the morning if she forgets her earrings. Can you imagine? You are halfway to a 20 minute commute to your child's school. There is no school bus because she attends a private school. You drop her off on your way to work. All of a sudden your child says, "Dad, I forgot my earrings. We have to go back." What should the obvious response be there? Mine would be "No," plain and simple. No explanation needed. Not this father. He turned the car around to get the earrings. She claimed that she has also called him while she was at school to bring in her earrings because she forgot them at home. And instead of protesting, he brought them to her! Am I the only one who thinks that there is something wrong with this scenario? Today, the girl came into my classroom sweeping her hair behind her ears to proudly show her earringless lobes. "Look Ms. V" she said. "I don't have earrings in and I didn't make my dad go back and get them!" This was a shining moment in this girl's life. I suppose that people have different success stories. I couldn't help but smile. Even though I may not agree with her dad's choices in the field of earrings, who could resist the animated, smiley grin of this obviously happy girl? Wouldn't we all just hope to worry about whether or not we come prepared to work or school with jewelry. We can only hope.