the fools life

we went rock climbing just last night, and finished right as the sun was setting. what a perspective, sitting on top of a boulder, looking out to the Pacific mountains to the west, with an orangy-pink sky. a few foggy clouds were sweeping in just below me. i could see so far, but was reminded of how small i am. the traffic lights moved along in a line far below, and i sighed and thought, "what fools we are."

The Fray

I've lately been enamored with the song "You Found Me" by the Fray. It angered me and broke my heart, and I love it. The raw, child-like emotion of the song is just so.....mmm. Anyway, after hearing it over and over and being swept away emotionally by this song, I've written about it. I want to eventually focus my ideas and write a song capturing the emotions and thoughts in response.

If you haven't heard it, stop what you are doing and go to http://blog.thefray.net/us/blog and listen to it. He is singing to God, and he is hurt and angry. So here is my take on what God might say in response to this song...


I could see the desperate pain in your eyes when you saw me and it broke my heart to see you hurting.

I wrote you page after page after page of love letters, stained with my tears and sealed with my blood. Then you took them, bound them in gold and put them on your table to collect dust. Have you ever read a word of my desperate cries for your heart?

You cry over a loss, you say your love is the only one who knew who you are, who you aren’t and who you want to be, but it is I you truly ache for. I feel your every breath, see your every wound and know exactly what will heal them. I give you air to cry out against me and you wish for your lovers arms when I wait here aching for you.

I’ve been here for your each moment, how every time you turn around, the world crumbles down. You haven’t seen me because you aren’t looking for me, you are looking for answers. Give me your anger, your pain, your despair. What makes you think my purpose for you is to make you happy? What purpose does a spoiled child serve? What strength do they have? Are they satisfied or useful in anyway? Don’t you think you are better than that? I do.

Am I the friend with the big screen TV or inground pool? If all you think I am is someone who you ask things from, then you don’t really know me at all. You cry to me, but only want what I can give. I only hear your voice when you need me, and if you don’t get what you want, you say I’m not here for you. How can you use me like that? Please stop praying to my hands and start looking me in the eye!

You want a selfish, shallow love affair with me, but I want to give you everything. I gave my life, and what I want is your heart. Where’s your heart? I bled and bled for you and how can you ask me where I’ve been? How can you say I took anything from you, when it was never yours to begin with? How can you be so blind?

My oldest, dearest pen pal,

i feel as though i am a different person since i last spoke with you (in our own language of scrawled words, scribbled drawings, and random pictures from our lives). which leads me to believe that you must also be very different. i can still get lost in writing a letter and reading a good response from you. what free days we knew back when we were young, though we had little clue.

i am 'grown-up' now- or at least i have been trying to for the last several years. i think i was trying too hard-or maybe not trying hard enough. probably that one, actually. i have this yearning to be wild and free forever, which is probably why i finally picked up and came out to the west coast, as i have been wanting to do for years. i am breaking with the expectations put on me through my society, family, and culture. it sucks. but what an adventure. and i am growing up? maybe. perhaps out. actually, in, first, to find the me that is somewhere deep inside, swinging on vines, rattling her cage to be let out.

what contradictions and paradoxes i write! huh?!

i may sound a little confused, but i am learning truth, and i just want to let myself out so badly. i have kept all this creativity bottled up inside because of: fear, self-consciousness, self-criticism, fear, distrust, poor expectations, and laziness.

i must figure out a way to get out of myself- or the facade of myself that i present to the world.

i always felt you oozed creativity and vivacity, so i feel comfortable sharing this all with you. a step in the right direction perhaps.

i have started to consider how i want to raise children if i have my own or want to adopt. many of my friends are becoming moms and dads and i will surely follow suit soon. i see you have a little one you are very proud of. what is it like to be a mom and have something so precious and fragile in your care? do you have ideals of how you want to raise him? i'm sure you must- i want to know what they are. i find that terribly interesting.

i must admit, i am partially writing this letter out of a need for an outlet. i need to write, and i just noticed your address in this notebook. really, you are getting the best kind of letter - one written in loopy handwriting from a really great coffee shop. i'm even sitting on a pillow on a bench, behind a garage door. talk about ambiance.

From the Frozen Medows

The following is not aimed at Jill in anyway, just a random vent that I've been unable to feel comfortable saying for some time. I've been looking around and seeing what fellow teachers are dealing with (and dealing with a tiny bit of it myself) and I've started to see how the corruption of our world fills every area.

I've come to feel that there should be several classes added to the Education requirements for college that revolve around school politics. Today we had some work time and I was engaged in conversation with some of my kids. One of them asked me if I liked being a teacher. I said yes. Then another kid asked me what was the best part about being a teacher and without hesitation I said "hanging out with you guys."

Honestly, there are so many other parts of being in the education field that make my blood boil. Just because someone went to school when they were young doesn't mean they know how to run a classroom or a school. But for some reason, every person thinks it's their place to judge us and tell us how much we suck. In many ways education is a subjective art form, yet teachers are constantly expected to take on scripted curriculum, fit into stereotyped boxes, and take crap from people who haven't stepped foot in a classroom since they were students. Rawr. We as educators have dedicated our lives to the field, yet time after time parents believe the word of their 12 year old who lies about finishing their vegetables over the word of a distinguished professional. Just because you can procreate and pop out babies does not make you a qualified parent. If parents were required to get a bachelor's degree in child development before getting pregnant, then we can talk.

Then there's the vast majority of people that had a sucky teacher so they lump every teacher into the sucky category. There are so many people that have it in for teachers. People I know, people who are in leadership positions who spread their ignorant, stereotypical philosophies about how teachers are flaming liberals who lie and corrupt our world. What the heck?

Then there are the administrations that take advantage of their workers. If your boss asked you to work eight hours a day for three weeks without pay, who in their right mind would say yes? I've seen principals that bully their young teachers into volunteering for coaching positions throwing out the "I thought you were dedicated to education" and even implying that if they don't volunteer, they will not have a job next year. Is this a school that teaches responsibility, integrety and honesty or is this some money grubbing, manipulating corporation bent on getting ahead and crushing everyone in their path? The people that I know who work 50-60 hours a week as teachers/coaches do not make much more than $29,000 a year. Any other carrer working that much a week makes twice that starting out. But yet, people are crying at the school board meetings that teachers get paid too much and we should increase class sizes to 35 and cut out extra curriculars and fire teachers. Our two(ish) months in the summer is taken up by sport camps and try outs and conferences and those who are close to me know that I am kind of hard to get a hold of during the school year because I am so busy with sports and teaching and lesson planning and grading and conferences and meetings and on and on..., so in my mind, those two months are just make up time that everyone else gets in the real world.

But what I can tell you is that when I get to that school and those kids come in, it doesn't feel like work at all. I can push away the thoughts of the hoops I have to jump through and the junk I have to deal with and man, I wouldn't trade it for the world. At any other job, people wouldn't put up with some of the stuff we have to deal with...but that's because no other job is worth putting up with crap for.

somewhere past this setting sun

>from a serene evening in Oregon. i feel belonging here and know at once my belonging anywhere is temporary<
i am poor. there. i said it. although quite exhilarating, moving cross country has sucked the life out of my finances. on top of that, when i first arrived here, this area received its worst snow storm it has had in about 30 years. i decided to keep quiet and not let anyone know that it possibly followed me from the midwest. my car was stuck in the apartment parking lot for days, and since i don't have the internet at home, i felt somewhat stuck with job searching. those dog days have passed and now i am working a job i found through an employment agency. but that is actually all beside the point. my first measly paycheck comes tomorrow, and i will still be poor. i have found myself in a stream that leads to an ocean of debt and struggle. i remain convinced that i possess the tools that will help me swim out successfully.
so i do not complain. but the reason that i am really ok is that i am not alone. we, many of us, are working jobs not suited to our particular tastes. but they pay the bills. or not. but either way, our mouths are not entirely empty. we chew, we swallow, we digest, we give back to the earth. and we do it all again.thrice a day. quite honestly, the wonder of life's simple complexities should marvel us more frequently. and everyone has to do it.
i am not alone. my roommate and my boyfriend are also struggling with meager funds. i would much rather us all be poor together than the contrary. we have to be creative with meals and activities and energy use. we have to learn again to enjoy the little things. it is worth a warm fuzzy to enjoy a small piece of chocolate for dessert.
and. as far as wealth, we are not nearly as poor as the so-called least fortunate on the planet. my stomach may feel more hunger than it is accustomed to, but that is not such a terrible thing. my mouth is not empty and i am not alone.