I dismissed a class almost ten minutes early today. I was looking at the wrong schedule. They came back puzzled and chatty.
First days of anything ... I'm not a fan. I have to constantly talk myself down and say things like, "you've done a lot of first things, and you've gotten used to them! Remember the obstacle course at boot camp at age eleven? Remember opening McDonald's at 4am in July? You'll get used to this."
The moment I realize what I'm doing here, teaching and advising, I am liable to hit some strange Freak Out button (this button is visible only after 7pm). In essence, it's not so hard: plan some reading and writing, give a vocabulary test occasionally, hang out with teenagers from different countries. Really, it's wonderful in a basic way. But as soon as I begin to think about the philosophy and the agenda and the goals and the essential questions that have to back up every single thing I say... Well, I say, higher education has only complicated things.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Just a Friend
I believed in you from a distance,
when you were at your worst.
I wish I had a part in you now.
The worst of it is your legacy of pain.
If I hold on now, I'm bound to hurt forever,
with the searing pain of red-hot shackles:
Asking what drove you to it,
why you drove yourself,
and alone!
You jumped!
Now I have to let go.
I, who made the mistake of believing
that you knew exactly what you were doing.
when you were at your worst.
I wish I had a part in you now.
The worst of it is your legacy of pain.
If I hold on now, I'm bound to hurt forever,
with the searing pain of red-hot shackles:
Asking what drove you to it,
why you drove yourself,
and alone!
You jumped!
Now I have to let go.
I, who made the mistake of believing
that you knew exactly what you were doing.
What I Would Like to Believe
I would like to believe that you are in California
with an old laptop some friend let you borrow,
then saw you had a necessity for it,
the words pouring forth from your mind at 2am,
like you do. There you sit, a loud TV on in another room,
but you've learned not to complain since the rent is cheap.
And moment by moment, you narrate the madness of passing world
passing life
beautifully
and with your rueful half-smile.
I promised myself I'd be the first to read it!
Before the piece even touched the shelf,
somehow I'd know.
And all the blurred years of ink and heartbreak,
and your illegible pencil-scratch notes,
would begin their healing in me, as
I read about your cross-country journeys,
your smoking up with strangers,
and how you realized it would get you nowhere.
Surviving on meager cooking of your own,
occasionally working up a kitchen masterpiece to share with...
with whom? There I stop.
No one traveled that road with you.
No one knew.
No one knew.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
If You Come Back
If you come back
I will write you a poem for every picture of a tree
you deign to send me.
I will go to see that stupid Hulk movie and find a replacement for work.
I will chat online for more than a few minutes: reviewing our chats, I always seemed to be pressed for time.
I will sit with you in your Jeep on the way to your friend's wedding,
and let myself think about your profile against the sunset.
I will not run so hard or so far.
I will let you catch me, hold me, keep me.
But
I know I wouldn't
if you could
Come back.
I will write you a poem for every picture of a tree
you deign to send me.
I will go to see that stupid Hulk movie and find a replacement for work.
I will chat online for more than a few minutes: reviewing our chats, I always seemed to be pressed for time.
I will sit with you in your Jeep on the way to your friend's wedding,
and let myself think about your profile against the sunset.
I will not run so hard or so far.
I will let you catch me, hold me, keep me.
But
I know I wouldn't
if you could
Come back.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Life Tastes Sweet
Funny how tempting it is to blog about blogging or to make apologies for long, informative posts. Ha. This blog is about my life, so I feel justified in a few very long posts now and then that solely relay strings of experiences.
The painfully anticipated break is nearing its end, and I have lots of feelings and few moments to share. But I don't enjoy writing or reading about feelings. And I love to write and read about moments. So here are a few that come back to me, with their corresponding food of the moment.
On Christmas eve eve, I visited Krystle. We baked banana bread and talked and talked. She presented me with a gift of a beautiful hand-made afghan that rests snugly over the shoulders. It reminded me of Joella's grandmother's prayer shawl. I am wearing the afghan even now. Turkey Hill Double Dunker ice cream.
On Christmas eve, Stephen (my brother), my sister-in-law Megan, and my niece and nephew Aida and Holden went to Megan's aunt's house for dinner. Everyone eats and drinks and dodges children in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. One moment, I found myself on a big, well-stuffed chair, with Aida sitting next to me. We were discussing something. Then her cousin Maddy found her way to my lap. Then her cousin Luke found his way up the back of the chair, covering me in children. They fell over and on top of me, a sweet, laughing kid puddle. Orange sherbet punch.
Christmas day, we stayed inside like bums and watched A Christmas Story in segments that amounted to three full viewings. Sweet potato souffle.
The day after, we decided to eat at the Waffle Shop in State College. We waited for 15 minutes to be seated because it was so crowded. I sat between Aida and Holden. A teething Holden was biting the side of the table as our waitress came up. I forget our conversation. But she told us that she had been a waitress for 49 years, and she loved to serve people. Blueberry pancakes.
In Waynesboro later that week, Kelly, Sladana, Jack, Chelsea and I stopped at Sheetz for a snack before arriving at the movie theater. We sat in the round table and chatted about nothing, I'm sure. But the moment was sweet, there on the quiet edge of a spinning world. Macaroni bites.
Chels and I sat down together and watched The Prestige. I took Benadryl for some strange and awful allergy. I shouted out my guesses at the plot. She shouted out how annoying that was. Decaf tea.
Thursday lunch Sladana, BJ, Kelly, Josiah, and I ate together in Chambersburg. We sat in the draughty Subway sharing potato chips and stories and ideas. Sladana had work, so we remaining went to Starbucks. On the drive, we recalled our long and glorious history of loving Homestarrunner. Flurries had kicked up, but we were warm. Grande, soy, no vanilla, Mocha Frappuccino.
Thursday night, I joined Kelly's mom's dinner party out at some barn-like bed and breakfast. We sat with Kelly's mom's friends and chatted the evening away. Her friend Kim was telling us about the Alaskan village where her father lived and died, and their communal practices of supporting families through grief. Meanwhile, a bluegrass band with lovely vocal harmony played just behind us. Peppermint ice cream pie.
I leaned on my mom's bed as she woke up from her evening nap (she works nights) and we chatted before I left for Lancaster again. We talked about the things on our minds that mattered. It's funny, sometimes I wonder if I have anything important to say. But talking with Mom makes those trifling thoughts melt away, and what remains feels rock-solid, like it matters. The cat lay on the down blanket, with an occasional wistful sigh. LifeSavers peppermints.
On New Year's Eve with Joella's family, Anita and I talked in the kitchen while the other young people played a game in which players are "shot" and eliminated one by one. Asher came to join us. Our conversation intensified a bit, as we listed single ladies for him to consider. Then Tobias joined us, also "dead" to discuss the pros and cons of casual dating, if there is such a thing. The conversational intensity grew another notch. By this time we were all seated on the kitchen floor, weary from standing. Then Zion. Then Isaac. Then Tirzah. Then Boni and Joella. The conversational intensity had evened out around the entrance of Tirzah, and dropped off around the coming of Isaac. Olive cheese balls.
The painfully anticipated break is nearing its end, and I have lots of feelings and few moments to share. But I don't enjoy writing or reading about feelings. And I love to write and read about moments. So here are a few that come back to me, with their corresponding food of the moment.
On Christmas eve eve, I visited Krystle. We baked banana bread and talked and talked. She presented me with a gift of a beautiful hand-made afghan that rests snugly over the shoulders. It reminded me of Joella's grandmother's prayer shawl. I am wearing the afghan even now. Turkey Hill Double Dunker ice cream.
On Christmas eve, Stephen (my brother), my sister-in-law Megan, and my niece and nephew Aida and Holden went to Megan's aunt's house for dinner. Everyone eats and drinks and dodges children in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. One moment, I found myself on a big, well-stuffed chair, with Aida sitting next to me. We were discussing something. Then her cousin Maddy found her way to my lap. Then her cousin Luke found his way up the back of the chair, covering me in children. They fell over and on top of me, a sweet, laughing kid puddle. Orange sherbet punch.
Christmas day, we stayed inside like bums and watched A Christmas Story in segments that amounted to three full viewings. Sweet potato souffle.
The day after, we decided to eat at the Waffle Shop in State College. We waited for 15 minutes to be seated because it was so crowded. I sat between Aida and Holden. A teething Holden was biting the side of the table as our waitress came up. I forget our conversation. But she told us that she had been a waitress for 49 years, and she loved to serve people. Blueberry pancakes.
In Waynesboro later that week, Kelly, Sladana, Jack, Chelsea and I stopped at Sheetz for a snack before arriving at the movie theater. We sat in the round table and chatted about nothing, I'm sure. But the moment was sweet, there on the quiet edge of a spinning world. Macaroni bites.
Chels and I sat down together and watched The Prestige. I took Benadryl for some strange and awful allergy. I shouted out my guesses at the plot. She shouted out how annoying that was. Decaf tea.
Thursday lunch Sladana, BJ, Kelly, Josiah, and I ate together in Chambersburg. We sat in the draughty Subway sharing potato chips and stories and ideas. Sladana had work, so we remaining went to Starbucks. On the drive, we recalled our long and glorious history of loving Homestarrunner. Flurries had kicked up, but we were warm. Grande, soy, no vanilla, Mocha Frappuccino.
Thursday night, I joined Kelly's mom's dinner party out at some barn-like bed and breakfast. We sat with Kelly's mom's friends and chatted the evening away. Her friend Kim was telling us about the Alaskan village where her father lived and died, and their communal practices of supporting families through grief. Meanwhile, a bluegrass band with lovely vocal harmony played just behind us. Peppermint ice cream pie.
I leaned on my mom's bed as she woke up from her evening nap (she works nights) and we chatted before I left for Lancaster again. We talked about the things on our minds that mattered. It's funny, sometimes I wonder if I have anything important to say. But talking with Mom makes those trifling thoughts melt away, and what remains feels rock-solid, like it matters. The cat lay on the down blanket, with an occasional wistful sigh. LifeSavers peppermints.
On New Year's Eve with Joella's family, Anita and I talked in the kitchen while the other young people played a game in which players are "shot" and eliminated one by one. Asher came to join us. Our conversation intensified a bit, as we listed single ladies for him to consider. Then Tobias joined us, also "dead" to discuss the pros and cons of casual dating, if there is such a thing. The conversational intensity grew another notch. By this time we were all seated on the kitchen floor, weary from standing. Then Zion. Then Isaac. Then Tirzah. Then Boni and Joella. The conversational intensity had evened out around the entrance of Tirzah, and dropped off around the coming of Isaac. Olive cheese balls.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Some Looking Back
This conversation took place during our last summer of still having conversations. We were both working on moving to Lancaster. Neither of us was sure where we would work or how we would subsist. We were low on cash, and discussed our situations frequently. Also, he and LBC had differing views on cursing.
A Conversation from July 21, 2008
10:18 PM Ken: [...]
SPONTANEOUS!
I found five dollars today while i was packing my books and throwing away trash
10:19 PM it was in an envelope from the President of LBC that I got when I graduated but never opened for some reason (hint: reason is that I would need it later)
me: did the prez of LBC give all of the grads a $5?
Ken: yes
it comes with a form
and a suggestion that you give it back to lbc
10:20 PM me: no
Ken: and commit to giving five dollars every month
hahaha
no joke
I don't feel even a little bad about this.
It's GOD's money, right? And clearly he was saving it for my time of need. So LBC can shove it. hahahahhahaha
10:21 PM :P
me: cuz God said so
Ken: When I had my exit interview
's'right
they talked to me about donating as an alumnus
and the guy doing the interview was actually (by chance, a bunch of different staff do the exits) the VP of Financial Affairs
10:22 PM and he started it with "Idk what God has in store for you. You know? You could be a millionaire--"
And I started laughing pretty hard
and then I said, "I promise, if God makes me a millionaire, I'll give some money back to LBC."
hahaha
10:23 PM me: lol
Ken: (Image of myself making out a 100 dollar check and writing something smart in the Memo line."
)
me: what would you write? c'mon on now
my choice would be "because I am now a millionaire"
10:24 PM Ken: "As promised; Hope you don't mind this money from a dirty fucker."
tell me not to write cusses!
lol
you know they'd still cash it, too
hahaha
10:25 PM me: well, they might mumble something about the money of the rich being stored up for the poor...
*money of the wicked
Ken: same diff
haha
they might mumble
but they'd mumble in line at the bank
10:26 PM Nick is convinced they are funded by the CIA
(LBC)
[...]
10:30 PM Ken: I know that the VP of Financial Affairs actually told me (when he was asking me to give) that for "some reason" LBC is one of the few colleges that isn't mostly supported financially by their alumni, b/c LBC alumni give a "shockingly" little amount to the college
me: God works in mysterious ways...
Ken: So does the CIA!
me: lol
i gotta go
Ken: k
have fun tomorrow
don't get too lost
me: thanks, sorry you can't come!
Ken: it's okay
me: i'll try hard not ot
*to
Ken: call my house if you get lost and need directions
Cause I don't work until 5, I'll be packing
me: expect a call
10:31 PM Ken: haha, okay
bye!
me: i'm serious
cya!
Ken: okay
haha
Sunday, December 18, 2011
I Doubt It
When I got back from London,
you gently demanded (how could you do that?)
a get-together.
We would decide what to do
when you got here.
You picked me up.
Sunroof open, sun in our hair,
We went to the park.
[My park. My favorite park.
How did you know? Did I ever tell you?
You never forgot a single thing I said.]
"I was thinking we could go fly kites," you said
As you pointed to two kites in your backseat.
[How odd, I had just been thinking about kites, I remember.
Did you know? Did I ever tell you?]
We ran about wildly inexperienced, getting our kites in the air.
Up they flew. Up. Bright. Sun in our hair, on our faces!
I was so relieved
That you had no confessions,
And I no heartbreaks
To share today.
I entangled my kitestring with yours and tried to pull it down.
You smiled and laughed, not to be bothered.
I loved you for it.
[Did you know? Did I ever tell you?]
you gently demanded (how could you do that?)
a get-together.
We would decide what to do
when you got here.
You picked me up.
Sunroof open, sun in our hair,
We went to the park.
[My park. My favorite park.
How did you know? Did I ever tell you?
You never forgot a single thing I said.]
"I was thinking we could go fly kites," you said
As you pointed to two kites in your backseat.
[How odd, I had just been thinking about kites, I remember.
Did you know? Did I ever tell you?]
We ran about wildly inexperienced, getting our kites in the air.
Up they flew. Up. Bright. Sun in our hair, on our faces!
I was so relieved
That you had no confessions,
And I no heartbreaks
To share today.
I entangled my kitestring with yours and tried to pull it down.
You smiled and laughed, not to be bothered.
I loved you for it.
[Did you know? Did I ever tell you?]
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