A Cycle of &*$^#! and Calm

Yes, that accurately describes my day. Why didn't anyone warn me that moving is a most serious pain in the ass? In perhaps a dozen trips (I lost count), alone with my shopping cart, I only managed to move in my bathroom and kitchen. And even those aren't *really* finished, because I have a handful of dishes and my shower caddy still in the old place. My little cart is great, but holds two shopping bags and one box perched on top, meaning manymanymany trips.

During my journey this afternoon and evening, I met a man supervising a paint job on his building. We exchanged pleasantries each time I passed, and I offered him and the painter a snack from my cart as I wheeled the contents of my pantry down the street. On my next trip, he asked me if I wanted to use his minivan to make a larger trip. "I wish I could, but I don't drive." He suggested I find someone in my building who would be willing to drive, but alas, the workers had all left for the evening. When I emerged empty-carted and without a companion, he offered to drive me himself. I hesitated only briefly, realizing that there were plenty of witnesses around, and clearly this man had no hidden agenda. So I agreed, and he drove me back to my place, gave me his phone number, and told me to call him when I had my boxes ready for him to pick up. Too good to be true, right? Wrong. I called him, and he drove over, helped me load the boxes, drove me back, and helped me unload into the stairwell. The trip I took with him was equivalent to four or five with the cart. Sir Clarence Gregory, I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.

Now, to make things more complicated for myself, I have only five Hammermill boxes, plus two Trader Joe's shopping bags, with which to move my belongings. When the movers come tomorrow, I need everything that they're moving to be cleared off - my bookshelves, dressers, furniture, etc.. Two of my bookshelves alone used all five boxes, and I still need to pack up the contents of my third bookshelf and desk...see how the math isn't quite working out?

But just when I'd lost all hope, a beacon of light shone upon me. Miss Amanda "Coffman" Bosky, dear old friend and roommate, is available with her car from 9-4, and she's willing to drive all the way from Oak Park to help me. Saviour #2 on the day!

OK, so I'm ending very abruptly, but it's 12:13 and I promised myself I'd be in bed at 12, as I'm waking up at 6 to get a good start on the day. Send me "good moving" vibes, people!

Aw, Cafe Mud (above which I will soon live) is to be no more. I guess that's what happens when you don't pay your rent. On the plus side, I won't have to deal with the creepy owner. Unfortunately, this also means that I can't access the free Wi-Fi. Shucks.

If I had to sum up this summer, I'd say it's one of physical ailments. Very troublesome vertigo and severe headaches, a strained back, sore knees from biking 30 miles a week, mild sunburn, various bumps, bruises and scratches from rambunctious campers/carrying my bike up and down the apartment stairs/being my clumsy self, not to mention the other stress-related conditions from GRE-itis...oy. There's also the heartache...yes, *that* heartache. It's the hardest to fix, but it fades a little more every day. Now I'm sitting here, awake since 4:30 EST, with 14 mosquito bites on my feet that itch so badly I woke up half a dozen times before getting up for good. Harumph, I say!

At least, thankfully, I'm on vacation, spending my time visiting relatives, taking trips to the beach, and sleeping far more than I ever could this summer. Of course, when I return to Evanston, I'll immediately throw myself into some whirlwind moving action - I have less than 48 hours to be out of my apartment - and start prepping my 2 year-old classes, which will take far more commitment and planning than last year's program. Oh, and I suppose I should start studying - again - for the GRE, and compiling grad school applications. You know, in case I didn't have enough on my plate. Big changes are afoot, but in all fairness, I welcome them. Perhaps it's the dawn of a new era of Laura. Laura v2.0...or 10.4.11, more appropriately. I like that idea very much. We'll keep that going.

Get it together.

You know, I feel like I've cried more in the past eight weeks than I would normally in a bloody eight-month span. I feel a little pathetic, truth be told, and completely drained. Think I should go to bed before I suffer another spell.

Joy of all joys!, or, I love my boss.

Most of you know that the hardest part of my teaching job is not developing curriculum, or keeping children in line, or earning a measly wage, but dealing with coworker Q. For the sake of maintaining a peaceful environment, I largely kept quiet about my complaints. That is, until my boss requested a meeting in April to discuss the end of the school year and upcoming summer camp.

Without throwing Q under the bus - because I truly respect her creativity, and recognize that she's been essential to my growth as a teacher - I aired all of my concerns, and admitted that I didn't want to return to summer camp if I had to be her assistant in the morning. My summer would be difficult enough (it has certainly proved to be so) without the added tension. Additionally, I questioned whether or not I wanted to continue as her assistant in the fall, as my lead teaching opportunities bring me far more happiness with negligible stress. My boss assured me that my issues would be addressed, told me how much she valued my work, and on top of it all, apologized for not being more of a supportive presence and vowed to be more active from then on. What a pleasant surprise!

I can happily report that my summer has been relatively Q-free, as I was moved to a preschool sports camp in the morning. The daily reports I receive from a counselor who works with both me and Q reaffirms that I made the right decision in requesting said transfer. My summer is certainly the better for it, though as I mentioned, I'm not faring terribly well. Anyway, two days ago, my boss dropped a most surprising and glorious bombshell: I have a complete two year-old program, mine and mine alone, Monday-Friday.

I have an entire program! I HAVE AN ENTIRE PROGRAM!!

In case you don't understand my excitement, let me explain that this is just about everything I could have wanted. 1) I'll have limited contact with Q, and I think our relationship will be better for it. 2) I'll continue working with coworker X, whom I adore, twice a week for our open gym program. 3) I have complete control over the curriculum of some spectacular classes - art, music, cooking (!), and science being the highlights. 4) As I won't be anyone's assistant, I won't have two wages, only the higher one. Granted, it's still only $1000/month, but that's $200 more than what I made this past school year. I'll take what I can get.

In short, huzzah!, both for me and for my boss, who's been far more receptive and proactive than I ever expected. Isn't it nice to feel appreciated?

I want to go home.

Give me strength.

I'm taking the GRE in ten weeks. Whatever I said about driving, and reading as much as possible...backburner until August 10th. I want to suffer through this indignity only once. Now I can start panicking and hating myself for not remembering anything to do with math.

Summer vacation? Psh.

*Besides* working 60 hours a week for nine weeks, here's what else I want to accomplish or anxiously/excitedly (depending) await between June 16 and September 1:

• Developing lobster skin from working outside 40 hours a week. Unavoidable, regardless of how frequently I apply sunscreen.
• Studying for and taking the GRE. DREAD.
  
• Possibly doing the unthinkable and finally taking Driver's Ed, then getting my license. It really is time.
  
• Biking approximately 30 miles a week. At least this comes with serious benefits.
  
• Reading 13 books that have been staring at me for quite some time now. This is by far the most enjoyable activity on my list, but the least necessary.
• Moving into my new apartment. Thankfully it's only two blocks away, so I can carry over a good deal of stuff, and only require movers for the furniture. Still, it's a hassle.
  

Jealous? No, I wouldn't be either. In fact, if you want to switch summers, let me know as soon as possible. I'd be happy to take yours off your hands.

Too much time to think.

I'm so desperate to distract myself that I'm going to the library to study for the GRE. What is the world coming to...

Do you ever feel that your state of mind can be entirely defined by a single song? That when you hear it, often at the most random moment, it stops you dead in your tracks and provides that blessed "Aha!" moment? Yeah, I do too. So, if I could take out my little ol' heart, give it a voice, and accompany it on the piano, I believe it would sound something like this:

In every heart there is a room,
A sanctuary safe and strong,
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along.

I spoke to you in cautious tones.
You answered me with no pretense.
And still I feel I said too much,
My silence is my self-defense.

And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns.
And so it goes, and so it goes,
And so will you soon I suppose.

But if my silence made you leave,
Then that would be my worst mistake.
So I will share this room with you,
And you can have this heart to break.

And this is why my eyes are closed.
It's just as well, for all I've seen.
And so it goes, and so it goes,
And you're the only one who knows.

So I would choose to be with you,
That's if the choice were mine to make.
But you can make decisions too,
And you can have this heart to break.

And so it goes, and so it goes,
And you're the only one who knows.

*scene*

Rain rain go away...

Now i lay(with everywhere around)
me( the great dim deep sound
of rain;and of always and of nowhere) and
what a gently welcoming darkestness--

now i lay me down(in a most steep
more than music)feeling that sunlight is
(life and day are)only loaned:whereas
night is given(night and death and the rain

are given;and given is how beautifully snow)

now i lay me down to dream of(nothing
i or any somebody or you
can begin to begin to imagine)

something which nobody may keep.
now i lay me down to dream of Spring.

-e.e. cummings

Song of the Moment

Like Picasso and his Blue Period, Rose Period, Cubism, etc., I tend to have music phases. For a solid three weeks during my junior year of college, I listened to Rufus Wainwright alone. My senior year, two or three weeks of Keane. In September, Ben Harper was the man in my life. And, of course, there's the Pearl Jam kick that particularly picks up around upcoming concerts.

Since...Thursday, I'd say, Crowded House has held exclusive rights to my ears. But not their entire discography, no, not even an entire album. Since Thursday...or whenever...I have been captivated by the first five tracks of their most recent release, Time on Earth. To and from each job, riding the El, sitting around the apartment, just five tracks on continuous repeat. As they're occupying my full musical attention, I feel it appropriate to share The Most Played:

He imagines the world
As the angel ascending
Like the ghost of a man
Who is tied up to a chair

And he tries to believe
That his life has a meaning
With his hand on his heart
Pour le monde, pas pour la guerre

And I wake up blind
Like my dreams were too bright
And I lost my regard
For the good things that I had
And the radio was sad

When you listen for good
In a hope that comes to nothing
'Cause the liars moved in
And they believe their own dark medicine

They act so nonchalant
But he is not a dog
Perform for you in the stadium
For the world, not for the war

And he won't hesitate
Though it might lead to heartache
In the nightclub indigo
For the world, not for the war
Pour le monde, pas pour la guerre

When you listen for good
In a hope that comes to nothing
'Cause the liars moved in
And they brew their own dark medicine
Believing it's good
Behind their jaded eyes a dilemma

He's the best you ever had
He's so low, you'll never know
(fade)

-Pour le monde

O Spring, Where Art Thou?

I believe the winter malaise has finally hit me, and I am not pleased. This feeling that I could nap at any given moment of the day is terribly bothersome, as is my contentment with sitting around, not getting anything accomplished. As much as I enjoy cuddling up with hot cocoa, a blanket and a movie, I'm aching to be outside. I'm starting to bore myself! And I care not to imagine how I'm coming off to you, dear friends. I feel I should apologize for holing up so much.

I need motivation, and truth be told, I think it will come in the form of sunlight and greenery. No more slipping on treacherous, icy sidewalks, or shivering in bed because the radiator isn't working! No more freezing winds and suffocating layers of clothing! Give me grass, sunshine, open windows, and temperatures above 50! Sandals, t-shirts, skirts and sundresses! Frisbee at Deering Field, Cubs games, barbecues, picnics, excursions around the city without fear of frostbite or windburn! Am I missing anything?

I beg of you, bring these to me, quickly. I don't know how much longer I can stand feeling like a hibernating bear.

Chef Laura Presents

Roast Beef with Peppers, Onions, and Potatoes; Mushroom Polenta

For the beef and veggies:
-2 1/2 pounds eye-of-round roast beef (not terribly important, I believe I used rump round)
-3 red bell peppers, 2 yellow bell peppers, 1 medium red onion, and 3/4 pound new potatoes cut into 1-inch chunks
-5 garlic cloves, peeled (3 left whole and 2 cut into 12 slivers)
-2 tablespoons olive oil
-coarse salt, ground pepper, dried thyme

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place peppers, onion, potatoes and whole garlic cloves on a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with half of the oil, season with salt and pepper, and toss to coat.

Make twelve small slits in top and sides of roast, push in garlic slivers. Move veggies to the sides of the sheet, place beef in the center. Coat with remaining oil, rub with salt, pepper and thyme. Roast 40-50 minutes, tossing vegetables occasionally. Let meat stand for 10 minutes, tenting with tinfoil. Cut into slices, serve with vegetables.

For the polenta:
-1 cup yellow cornmeal
-1 tablespoon butter
-parmesan cheese
-mushrooms, sliced

Set 4 cups water to boil. Meanwhile, sautée mushrooms in a pan until brown. When the water is boiling, add 1 tsp salt, and gradually whisk in cornmeal. Simmer gently over low heat, whisking occasionally, until polenta is thickened and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Whisk in butter and parmesan, keep warm over very low heat. Stir in mushrooms, or top with them. If the polenta becomes too thick, whisk in some water just before serving.

Perhaps I am terribly unhip

but I don't understand how some men think that, just because we women are occupying the same dance floor, it's perfectly acceptable behavior to come up from behind, grab our hips, press themselves against us, and consider that a appropriate greeting. Please, someone explain it to me.

Never fear, friends, that fate did not befall me. While standing among my happily gyrating mates, I purposely (and I suppose purposefully as well), emit very strong "why am I here?" vibes, complete with frequently crossed arms and the look of bewilderment that naturally appears on my face. It's never failed me, and I'd be happy to demonstrate for anyone who wants to avoid that particular brand of attention.

Sad, but true.

For the first time in months, I can:

-pay my rent
-my electric bill
-the dentist
-maybe 4x the minimum on my credit card
-open an ING account with a few hundred dollars
-buy proper groceries
-put aside some personal spending money

without worrying one iota about where I'll get the money to pay next month's rent. So yes, I may be working close to 50 hours a week, but for this small financial security, I don't mind in the slightest.

Personality Disorders in the Hundred-Acre Wood

Yes, you read that correctly. The subject arose in a rather circuitous manner: 1. Saw Jim's Valentine's Day cards from home. 2. Discussed Valentine's Day presents from our parents. My mom replaced The Tao of Pooh and The Te of Piglet, which I lost to a friend years ago. 3. Mentioned that my favorite preschool unit so far this year focused on Winnie-the-Pooh. 4. Kristina informed us that she doesn't entirely like Pooh and friends, stating something along the lines of "Pooh's stupid." 5. I was about to argue that Pooh's simple-mindedness is a positive quality (as outlined in the aforementioned books), but I paused, reflected on the various characters in Milne's stories, and realized that there are indeed some serious issues at play. Let's take a look:

Winnie-the-Pooh: The easiest assessment to make is that Pooh is, above all else, simple. As Milne describes him, "a bear of Very Little Brain." There are, I believe, other elements at work here. He exhibits a few signs of being Schizotypal, such as odd mannerisms, thought processes and speech patterns that are difficult to follow, and odd beliefs or "magical thinking," but I don't think a full diagnosis is appropriate. It's probable that he also has Attention Deficit Disorder, as he's often in his own world, and has trouble focusing on a task or following conversation.

Piglet: It's quite obvious that Piglet suffers from Generalized Anxiety Disorder. The poor creature is scared of his own shadow, and any situation that's remotely unfamiliar is a cause for panic.

Tigger: I could make a case for Tigger having ADHD: he often fails to follow instructions, is easily distracted, does not seem to listen to others when spoken to directly, fidgets and squirms, runs or climbs when and where it is inappropriate, has trouble playing quietly, is more often than not seen as "on the go," and talks excessively.

Owl: Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He has a grandiose sense of self-importance, requires excessive admiration, has a sense of entitlement, and shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes. Owl believes himself a Paragon of Wisdom, which is amusing if only because he also appears to be dyslexic.

Rabbit: First and foremost, he's Obsessive. Everything in his life has an order, particularly his precious garden. He wants no help, believing that only he can complete tasks properly. Any disturbance is his routine is overwhelming, and he maintains a highly disciplined lifestyle. It's no wonder that Tigger is his foil. There seem to be no compulsive behaviors, so rather than diagnosing him with OCD (hand-washing, counting) I believe he's only Obsessive. Rabbit is also highly Introverted (clearly not a disorder, but a characteristic worthy of note), preferring solitary activities - reading, gardening - to social situations, and finding it very difficult to "let go."

Eeyore: Chronic dysthymia (mild depression). Eeyore isn't a full-blown depressive, but he exhibits most of the signs of the less severe form: depressed mood for most of the day, low energy, low self-esteem, difficulty experiencing pleasure, and a hopeless or pessimistic outlook.

Roo: Roo is perhaps the most "normal" of all, as his hyperactivity can be explained by his age. It's possible, however, that the absence of a father figure, an inappropriate role model in Tigger, and a moderate disregard for his mother's rules will lead to delinquency in later years. Fortunately, there's plenty of time to steer him onto the path of healthy development.

Kanga: I don't see any personality disorder, per se, but Kanga is both overprotective of Roo, and then seemingly unable to discipline him. I think some parenting classes would work wonders, but on the whole, Kanga is a loving, stable mother.

Christopher Robin: Again, I find no particular condition, but there are a few concerns. Where are the boy's parents? They're completely absent, and a boy of his age needs supervision. He also seems to have no friends of his own species, and spends most of his time talking to animals. I foresee a potentially serious social disorder in the making, but as he's kind to animals, I'd rule him out from becoming a sociopath (who frequently present with cruelty to animals as children). The worst-case scenario is that Christopher Robin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. I Googled "Christopher Robin disorder," to see if I'd missed any serious warning signs, and found a piece that provides a very compelling argument. For his sake, I hope that there is in fact a Hundred-Acre Wood.

So there you have it, my highly enjoyable activity of the evening (or rather, very early morning). I didn't go as far as whipping out the DSM-IV manual, but did take a gander at some personality inventories to flesh out my own diagnoses. And now, both impressed with and only slightly embarrassed by my Psych Studentness, I'm sending myself to bed.

On Impermanence and Suffering

I promise that this blog isn't going to turn into a collection of quotations from my Current Readings, but I can't help but share what I've learned from this book. I finished it a few days ago, and have since picked up The Power of Kindness where I left off, but I feel the need to reread it right away, in case I missed anything. I've already made note of twenty excerpts that spoke to me, but I've found, in my literary adventures, that there's always something new to discover. But I digress. From the chapter I've just reviewed:

"Impermanence is the goodness of reality. Just as the four seasons are in continual flux, winter changing to spring to summer to autumn; just as day becomes night, light becoming dark becoming light again - in the same way, everything is constantly evolving. Impermanence is the essence of everything. It is babies becoming children, then teenagers, then adults, then old people, and somewhere along the way dropping dead. Impermanence is meeting and parting. It's falling in love and out of love. Impermanence is bittersweet, like buying a new shirt and years later finding it as part of a patchwork quilt.

People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last - forever, we say - things that we don't have to wash, things that we don't have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.

Impermanence is a principle of harmony. When we don't struggle against it, we are in harmony with reality. Many cultures celebrate this connectedness. There are ceremonies marking all the transitions of life from birth to death, as well as meetings and partings, going to battle, losing the battle, winning the battle. We too could acknowledge, respect, and celebrate impermanence.

But what about suffering? Why would we celebrate suffering? Doesn't that sound masochistic? Our suffering is based so much on our fear of impermanence. Our pain is so rooted in our one-sided, lopsided view of reality. Who ever got the idea that we could have pleasure without pain? It's promoted rather widely in this world, and we buy it. But pain and pleasure go together; they are inseparable. They can be celebrated. They are ordinary. Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment; pleasure is not a reward.

Inspiration and wretchedness are inseparable. We always want to get rid of misery rather than see how it works together with joy. The point isn't to cultivate one thing as opposed to another, but to relate properly to where we are. Inspiration and wretchedness complement each other. With only inspiration, we become arrogant. With only wretchedness, we lose our vision. Feeling inspired cheers us up, makes us realize how vast and wonderful our world is. Feeling wretched humbles us. The gloriousness of our inspiration connects us with the sacredness of the world. But when the tables are turned and we feel wretched, that softens us up. It ripens our hearts. It becomes the ground for understanding others. Both the inspiration and the wretchedness can be celebrated. We can be big and small at the same time."

You know what I enjoy even more than filling out my taxes in a mere ten minutes? Receiving a refund check.

An Excerpt

I'm about 100 pages in, but this, from the first few pages, has stuck in my mind:

"Nevertheless, when the bottom falls out and we can't find anything to grasp, it hurts a lot. It's like the Naropa Institute motto: 'Love of the truth puts you on the spot.' We might have some romantic view of what that means, but when we are nailed with the truth, we suffer. We look in the bathroom mirror, and there we are with our pimples, our aging face, our lack of kindness, our aggression and timidity - all that stuff.

This is where tenderness comes in. When things are shaky and nothing is working, we might realize that we are on the verge of something. We might realize that this is a very vulnerable and tender place, and that tenderness can go either way. We can shut down and feel resentful or we can touch in on that throbbing quality. There is definitely something tender and throbbing about groundlessness.

Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and they fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.

When we think that something is going to bring us pleasure, we don't know what's really going to happen. When we think something is going to give us misery, we don't know. Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all. We try to do what we think is going to help. But we don't know. We never know if we're going to fall flat or sit up tall. When there's a big disappointment, we don't know if that's the end of the story. It may just be the beginning of an adventure...

To stay with that shakiness - to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge - that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic - this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior."

-Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart