Walk Right In, Sit Right Down...

Today, on this 18th day of September, I am resurrecting my blog. I am doing so because I miss writing because I don’t do it enough. I am doing so because I feel that it would make me a more genuine teacher of writing if I practice the craft I teach. I am doing so because this is the area of writing in which I feel I am best. I don’t think I will ever be a writer of fiction; I don’t have the stamina or the detailed mind for it. I fear my stories are in a permanent state of stasis. But this, this I can do. So, I will, and I will simply by diving right in...

Last night my friend the dragon, who has had pretty serious battles with depression was talking to me about how he was acutely aware of his mood and he felt the need to go read or watch anime or otherwise be away from people. Because of this, he was forcing himself to be in a place where he had to interact with others. When he explained why, it made a good deal of sense to me. He knew that if he gave into that need to be alone, it would lead down a path whose destination he already knew and to which he did not want to go. I made a point of talking to him for the rest of the evening about my own recent internal battles and how I felt I was better learning what it meant to have healthy friendships on which I did not feel wholly dependent for my own validation. Towards the end of the evening, I asked him how he was feeling. His response was that he felt much better – that the online group activity in which he was engaged and the steady conversation he and I had been having had pulled him back from walking down that road of isolation. I went to bed that night feeling like I had done some real good in the world – it wasn’t so drastic as having saved someone’s life, but I was able to figure out what someone else needed and was then able to provide it. And it worked.

Fast forward to today and once I was done with my classes, I found myself embroiled in trip plans that involved a travel agent, the chair of a committee that grants funds for professional development, and the coordinator of a conference I’m attempting to go to in November. It was aggravating, time-consuming, and ultimately is still unresolved completely. Added to that, my lunch plans fell through because my companion’s own schedule had become ridiculously complicated and so I could feel a desire to just go off and buy lunch somewhere and sit alone until meetings called me back a few hours later.

And then I remembered my friend from the night before.

Before I continue, I should point out that I am not normally one to run at a problem. I dislike conflict of any kind, so I’m much more likely to retreat, even if there is no real conflict and I’m just running away from the world. It does not help that I am an introvert, so sometimes running away seems like the only sane option. If there is no one around, you can’t be let down and you can’t get tired of interacting with the world. You just ARE in those moments, but not in a Zen sort of way.

I thought about how my dragon friend forced himself to socialize because he knew where isolating himself would lead him and he did not want to go there. I thought to myself, I wonder if that would work for me. Would forcing myself to come out of the Flight of the Introvert actually help? I mean, it wasn’t like I was depressed or otherwise in a dampening mood – I just didn’t want to be around people. This would be a problem, however, if I embraced it and then had to go actually run a meeting later that afternoon. So, I decided I’d give Dragon’s idea a try.

When a former student stopped by after her class, I took the plunge. I wonder if she realized the words sort of tumbled out rather abruptly; “What are you doing? Do you want to go to Wegman’s for lunch with me?” After that, it was easier and it was not long before I felt the need for isolation subside. It was as if a switch had been flipped in my head or heart or something and I could face the world again. This is especially significant because I call this friend Switch for unrelated reasons, but the name seemed even more fitting today. After we ate and I took her back to campus, I went for a walk in my Arboretum (perhaps I will blog about that next) to temper the surge of energy I felt from conquering what I knew was not a good state of mind in which to be. Life was good.

I came out of the Arboretum ready to sit in one meeting and run another one and I’m not sure I could have said the same if I hadn’t made myself take a leap of faith off not a cliff, but at least a small hill. And you know what? It was worth it.

“The further you get away from yourself, the more challenging it is. Not to be in your comfort zone is great fun” – Benedict Cumberbatch

What's In a Name...

Today I will talk about names.  Names are powerful things.  In a book I am currently reading, the author draws on old magic wherein the knowing the name of a thing gives one a certain power over it.  Sometimes, this is a dangerous use of dark magic and sometimes it is something more subtle and beautiful.  But always, it is power.  From Rothfuss to Rowling to Rumplestiltskin, there are countless examples from fiction, fantasy, and folklore that tell of the power of names.

For me, it works on other levels as well.  We use our given names everywhere (in Pulp Fiction, isn’t it Bruce Willis’ character who says we are in America, and names don’t mean….well, you get the idea).  I don’t think that’s entirely true, but there is a certain amount of familiarity with the names we carry on our birth certificates.  Perhaps that is why it feels like there is power in the bestowing of a name that is accepted by the one who is named.  The giving of a nickname, a pet name, a role name, or the choosing of a name is not something often entered into lightly.  I’ve thought about this a lot lately – partially due to the need to name the kitten that is currently fiercely battling a stuffed mouse under my chair.  Perhaps because of the Baptism I recently attended or the student I have who was brave enough and strong enough to give himself a male name to better reflect who he felt like inside.  Perhaps I’ve always loved names as a writer and a gamer and someone who loves words in general (who amongst you writers and games doesn’t know what I mean when I say a name must have The Ring?)  My husband is more frequently known by the character name from the game in which we met than he is by his given name.  My best friend is called Raven for a million reasons, all of which are fitting and funny and wise and meaningful beyond what I can explain here.  I tend to give nicknames to my dear friends because it ties them closer to me in some way.  Not to sound proprietary, but it makes them mine.  I hate the way that sounds, but I think my readers will know what I mean.  It is a verbal bond – or a verbal marker of a bond that is far more ethereal, in general.   As someone who has long believed that I’m cursed with finding wonderful people only to then lose them, this is a significant emotional investment.  Names of all kinds have power in my world…and if I give you one, it means something.  If you give me one, it means something as well.

That leads me to verbalizing my curiosity about names I’ve gathered over time.  There are a number of reasons for this and a number of names that immediately spring to mind.  JDB has a slew of nicknames for me, Raven has one, my sister has one.  My brother gave me one long ago that he doesn’t use much anymore, really, but it’s still mine.  My father and mother each have names for me, as do my nephews.  And then there are my students.    Many of them call me Dr. T., which is something I like.  Formal, but not.  Kind of like me.  Amongst the larger group of students is a smaller group who, for a variety of reasons, I refer to as my Minions.  They seem completely at ease with this moniker and they consist of students who take every class with me that they can.  They are students who wear the title with something akin to honor and they seem believe they have to earn it and keep earning it.  They work hard; they go above and beyond as students.  And they have given me a name to which I also feel I must continue to earn.  There was a time when the chief among them called me Teacher Lady.  Later, it just became Teacher.  Still later, it was shortened again to Teach.  And then it spread until all the Minions now use it.  I see it in letters, emails, notes on my door, Facebook messages, in the halls and the random places where we meet.  On some level it may seem generic – it is a verb that describes what I do.  I suspect it means a lot more than that and that it carries a lot of weight behind it.  I think.  I’m sometimes not very good at these things. This may sound completely off the wall, but it reminds me of the days when I was called Fang-sama and Sōke (pronounced so-kay).  Which, of course, begs some explanation.

In the game where I met my husband and the people with whom I’ve held the longest friendships I’ve ever had, I played a character that belonged to one of three races.  One race was vaguely Middle Eastern, one was loosely Western European, and the third was based on a blending of various Asian cultures.  The dress, philosophy, culture, and belief system was an amalgamation of mostly Japanese and Chinese cultures of the past.  I chose the third one to play (I was and still am a fan of martial arts movies and even trained Washin-ryu for a little while.  I claim no real knowledge of anything beyond that, I just liked what little I knew).  Since I was the head of the monarchy, which at its largest was 160+ members, it had those same cultural leanings.  We were a role-playing group and so I was my character for many of its members – and I was never anything else.  When they or I left the game, we no longer really existed for one another.  But while we were there, I was Soke – which roughly translates to something like headmaster, head of the family, or even grandmaster.  To some I was Sensei – teacher.  Some went so far as to call me “My Queen” (one still does to this day) or to add –sama to my character’s name.  This last often caused me some measure of embarrassment – for it is an honorific given to one whom is greatly loved, respected, or admired.

Now, this was, of course, in a role-playing game so some amount of hyperbole is to be expected and I certainly don’t personally lay claim to any of those titles or honorifics, though at the time I loved the feel of them in the context of the game.  I was the head of a monarchy and so it was a good feeling to have so many willing to play that role with me and create a vast network of like-minded folks in a game where interactive story telling far surpassed the graphics and story of the game itself. 

Sōke and Teach are very different things, but I treasure them for much the same reasons.  They were given to me by people who chose to give me a name that reflected who I was in their life.  It may seem odd to say, but I've always seen a certain level of parallel to gaming and educating.  I play the role of educator, they play the role of learners.  When the game – the class – is over, they move on and so do I.   We all find new games and new experiences and often, our paths diverge, never more to reunite.  I was their professor, but am no more because they have moved on.  They were my students, but are no more, because our time together has ended.  They may never use the knowledge again in a direct way, but I like to think it has impacted them on some level – just as we may never return to the games of our past, but they forever impact the games we play in the future, even if it is a subtle and indirect and obscure a connection.  But some – some stay, the game changes and the characters change, but they remain.  They are the Minions who let “Hey Teach” roll off their tongues with casual smoothness and grins.  They are the ones who still call me Fang-sama and My Queen – despite that we stopped playing the game over ten years ago.

I started talking about names and ended up talking about teaching and students and, to a larger extent, the impact we have on the people around us.  And games.  There may be names I don’t have anymore, but they are in the Record Book of who I am and how I came to be the person writing this today.  So, I will treasure ‘Teach’ for as long as it is part of my current story…and we will see who keeps using it, who finds a new name, and who fades away leaving good memories and a story behind them as they travel. 

Like a phoenix, rising...

It took me a long time to determine what to write about.  After all, it has been a long time since I posted in this blog and it didn't feel right to just dive right in without acknowledging that.  It isn't as if I've such a large following of readers that it really matters, but it matters to me.  Therefore, it matters.

I've had numerous conversations and deep thoughts of late that would make excellent blog posts, and I suspect that many of them will become just that as I move into my attempt to do this more regularly.  

I've talked late into the night about fear when it comes to allowing people into my inner circle.  This fear is borne out of the realization that letting them in gives them the power to impact my state of being.  I’m emotionally sensitive and I feel things very deeply.  This can be a dangerous combination.

I've talked about the nature of religion and belief and how I've come to peace with belief systems and organizations built on belief systems and the disparity that oft seems to lie between.  My own is at once deceptively simple and infuriatingly complex.  But I’m at peace with it, and on the edge of a path that might lead me into a journey of discovery.

I've thought a lot about my role as a teacher and how closely intertwined that is to who I am.  I cannot speak for other careers, but I know that for me, this calling is one that cannot be wholly separated from that emotional being I mentioned above.  Teaching exhilarates and exhausts me, excites and exasperates me.  Grading is a terrible time for me – each student who has stumbled, each who has failed is a failure of my own, whether that’s accurate or not.  I’m not sure which ones hurt more – those with wasted potential and squandered time, or those who are just misplaced and have not found what will motivate them.  Some of them so desperately need me and I live in constant worry that I will somehow let them down.  And when I do, it can be devastating.

I've thought a lot about the nature of leisure activities and what constitutes entertainment.  I've noticed a trend towards the bleak in much of what is popular these days and I used to struggle immensely with what makes me so different that I have no wish to watch shows where the biggest question of the week is who and how many will die and whether or not it was a fitting end for the serial killer and the meth addict.  For a long time, I wondered what was wrong with me, quite frankly, that I couldn't take pleasure in these sorts of stories.  And I wondered who was the more odd, me or the vast numbers of the population whose proclivity for this sort of entertainment was so disparate from mine.  And then I figured it out.

I've thought about these things and talked of many more.  I have grappled with friendships just born and those which seem always on the edge of failure.  I've talked about dark psychology and bright futures.  I've thought about poetry and birds, babies and the cold winter, plans and regrets.  I've talked about a world that is changing for the better in the face of tragedies which belie how far we have to go.  Tragedies and tears, love and light.  So many things rolling around inside my head and yet not one of them seemed fitting for the re-inauguration of a blog that means a good deal to me if not to anyone else in particular.  Instead, it seems more fitting to talk of why I am bringing it back to life.

I love to write is one reason; this goes without saying, I’m sure.  The other main reason is that I spend ten months of the year actively feeling disingenuous.  I teach my students to read and to write and yet I do not do enough of either to make it anything more than “Do as I say and not as I do.”  It feels – and has felt – wrong.  I have half read books collecting dust, poems that only get written because I feel the pressure of an annual reading wherein I am in the spotlight and need words with which to fill the room.  This cannot stand.  So, when asked to build goals as part of my post-tenure review, I wrote this as my last goal:

Be a better practitioner of my own craft.

And so, here we are.  Come with me, if you will – and we shall see where my mind goes and whether or not it is of interest to you.  That said, I will leave you with the words of our beloved Maya Angelou, who so recently slipped her light away from the earth...

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

Will you listen to my story?

Desert Places..

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars--on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.

-R. Frost

I’ve often heard tell that this time of year can be the hardest to face even when you have many blessings to count.  It just feels like this time around it’s even more painful than I recall it being in other years.  It feels like tragedy is touching my life in ways that dig deeper than the sad brushings of pain I can sense but cannot feel as keenly as those engulfed and reeling in its wake.  It seems it began as summer passed into autumn, the days grew shorter, the wind grew chill..

I have said many times that life moves in ley lines that sometimes arrange themselves in brilliant mosaics that leave us speechless and thankful.  Sometimes, though, the ley lines carry naught but tears and the hitching of breath that never seems to be enough to truly feel alive.   As I wake to muted dark mornings and deep blue nights, gazing up at sullen grey skies and endless expanses of stars, so many around me are facing unthinkable pain.  This is for them.

For Linda, who lost a nephew in one of the most inconsolable ways imaginable…

For Karen, who lost an aunt who was also very much a friend…

For Holly, who lost a brother in arms who paid the ultimate price…

For the Biddles and others, who lost a friend whose smile brightened the world…

For FLCC and beyond, who reeled when his story came to an end…

For those who have lost elders and youth, friends and family four-legged and two…

For Ben, whose family is straining against a dark cloud of fear and heartache…

For Larry, who walked a path of uncertainty to bring his mother comfort…

For Allison, who supports a son and a husband who need all that she has to give…

For you, for your own battles and tears....

And for me…

For myself, I will hug my loved ones, appreciate my many blessings, and smile as the snowflakes fall and the bells jingle.  But I will also keenly feel the acute sense of loss and heartache that faces so many that I love.  It is the price one pays for wearing her heart on her sleeve and entwining others' lives into her own.  I would not change it, but I will seek solace in what counts as prayer in my worldview...

May each of you – each of us – find solace in warm memories, good friends, and the promise of brighter yesterdays and tomorrows both.  May we hold on to our loved ones – the ones who are here, the ones who are gone, and the ones who may leave us at any moment.  May we love them – all of them, may we never shy away.  May we never be afraid to love, to reach out, to hold on.

Hand in hand, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, we will all learn to smile again.  Our strength lies in one another - the rhythm of beating hearts, the light of love.

Let no one be lost, let no one be alone.

Thankful...

Every day I struggle to accept the darkness of the world and to somehow make sense of the cruelties and craziness. It is a struggle to stay optimistic sometimes, in the light of such things.

But on some days – like this day – I am surrounded by family and friends, by good food and memories in the making. On days like this, it is easier to forget the sadness of the world – for I am face to face with the things which fill my life with joy and happiness. My family and my dear ones are what keep the madness at bay and I ‘m forever thankful that the only tears I shed today will be born from laughter and from the lingering sadness of missing my grandparents, my aunt. I can feel them with us at every turn, though.



And so…for you, and them, and me, and all, I write this:



The world is dark and dangerous,

The days are long and bleak,

And so my eyes stay close to home

For the Thursday of this week.



A day of thanks for all I have

Though I feel it every day

The rays of color in my life

That keep back shades of grey.



Friend and family lines are blurred

As we lay the table fair

And in these bustling moments,

I lay my soul to bare.



I love you if you’re reading this,

My life you’ve wreathed in light

May you find all that you’re looking for,

Be it here or gone from sight.



May each memory you have not made

And those of days now past,

Bring you peace and joy unbound

And love to everlast.

An Open Christmas Letter...

This is an open letter to all of those for whom Christmas has been tainted by the overwhelming social pressure to conform to forced generosity that seems to darken the act of giving with the rot of obligation.

It is to those for whom Christmas is borne from a religion that does not speak to the heart, though the story is a beautiful one of shining deeds of love and wisdom in a bygone time.

It is to those for whom days become irritatingly counted and shortened by the joyous displays that come to us when the days are still warm and the leaves are still dancing on late summer breezes.

It is for those who find the season the most painful time of the year for these reasons and for countless others.  My message is simple, but it comes from a heart that has learned to look past all of this to find the small joys and the deep warmth that can be all around us despite the cold days, the cold commercialism, the cold rush for the latest purchase, the cold bustle of days growing shorter even as the list of stresses grows longer.

Brush these disconnects aside and what is left...

Christmas is love; it is a time for family and warmth, for friends and laughter, for good cheer and good wishes.  I will forever believe that the holiday spirit can sink into even the bluest of hearts and so this is my Christmas message to those who need greater words of warmth, of happiness, of comfort, and of good wishes…

You have the power to touch lives; I know this because you have touched mine.  Each day I spend in this world is made brighter because you are a part of it.  The sun shines brighter, the snow is more beautiful, and the smiles come more willingly.  Friendship in all its myriad forms is one of the most powerful gifts we can both give and receive, and I am honored to call you one, even in passing, and I know I am not alone.  The love between you and your dearest friends is an amazing thing – two people who can be across the world, across the street, or across the room and share so much using whatever means are available and making them come alive.

Those who love you are never alone…for even when you are lost in a busy store or a thousand tasks, you are always in their hearts.  You are in thoughts and, for some, the arbitrary lines between family and friend are forever blurred.  Your friendship brings smiles to faces even though you may never see them.  The thought of you warms a heart, cheers a dark evening, brightens a snowy day.  Christmas, then, is 'just another reason' to remember all of those who have touched our lives and celebrate them.

In light of these thoughts, I will share my good wishes for you...

May the blue in your heart find red and green and the silver of a shining star. May your days be full of sunshine and blue skies…and should it snow, may a snowflake stay on the tip of your nose until you cannot help but smile.  May you feel the Christmas spirit you so richly deserve.  May you know that you are loved, that you have touched lives, and that each day you draw breath is cause for celebration.  Each day you spend on this earth is a day that brings someone – numerous someones – joy.  May this thought be what cuts through the darkness and may you know, now and always, that the darkness need never overwhelm your heart because you are, to me and countless others, a blessing.  You are the greatest gift.

Merry Christmas.

Things I Don't Do Well...

I am not perfect.

No, really, it's true.  I'm flawed and full of shortcomings.  I don't think I necessarily have any more than anyone else, but I do have my share.  Sometimes they are annoying, and sometimes they serve me weirdly well.  I tend to consider the word 'flaws' to be a largely one-sided, black and white way of looking at it.  I'm not sure there are any traits that I possess that are always negative, all the time.  I'm over sensitive, for instance -- but that feeds my empathy.  I'm insecure about a lot of things -- but that keeps me humble.  It's a system of checks and balances.  Which doesn't mean there aren't things I would like to change.  Sometimes the balance is a little tippy in the wrong direction....and while I don't mean my weight, I wouldn't mind losing a few pounds, either.

So, what am I not good at?

Saying no.  This has shown up here and there in my life lately as a character trait possessed by a friend, and in her laughing at herself about it, I realized that I have the same problem.  I like to be helpful.  I like being busy.  I like to be useful.  I like accomplishing things and feeling like I'm making a difference.  But that ends up translating to having a LOT of things going on at once and occasionally panicking that I can't do it all.  The list at work alone is exhaustiv-e(-ng).  I teach an overload every semester.  I'm on a few planning boards and advisory committees.  I teach for another college and am in talks to teach for another.  I'm piloting programs, traveling between campuses, planning conferences, presenting at conferences, submitting proposals to conferences, writing mission and vision statements, co-chairing committees for things about which I only have a vague sense.  The list goes on.  This isn't always a bad thing.  If I get bored with something, there's always something else that needs my attention.  It got me promoted right out of the tenure starting gate and fresh off probation.  It teaches me about things that I wouldn't otherwise encounter.  It puts me in a good place to find the means and ways to do the things I want to do (I still want that computer science degree).  It gathers around me a supportive crew of people who know of what I am capable and are grateful I helped when I was needed.

But, my goodness, do I get tired.

The other thing I don't do very well is somewhat more troubling and that is friendship.  I have a very small circle of people I count as true friends and while I count them as blessings in every way possible, I sometimes wonder that there are not more.  Somewhat greedy, I suspect.  The only reason I'm thinking about this now is that I've found friends within the last 8 months and I was not even looking for them.  I'm not even sure why or how it happened -- just, I got invited to join a cadre of three for dinner and the three became four.  I am the fourth (a designation I adore for whatever reason).  But it is strange.  It is hard for me to break out of what I'm comfortable doing -- but the friends I have seem generally content to let me be who I am.  They know I'm busy and I spread myself too thin now and then.  They know I rarely sit still except in the evenings, and then I don't want to move at all.  They know I never stop thinking.  Ever.  They know my quirks and generally accept them.  Oh, there are attempts now and then to shake me out of whatever it is I need shaking out of -- but I do the same to them.  I told one of my dearest friends once, when our friendship was just learning that the soil was perfect for laying down roots, that I was high maintenance.  I remind him of that now and again and he just laughs.  He knows.  He's been putting up with me, as I like to say, for awhile now.

I could, incidentally, throw my family into this list as well -- since I count them as friends.  But, no matter how closely the roles of 'family' and 'friend' may mingle, there will always be a little something different about my siblings, for instance.  A lifetime of memories and shared experiences can't help but impact the definition of friend.  Perhaps one of these days I'll embarrass them by dedicating a blog to each.  Hmm...birthdays are coming.  But, that is a blog for another day...as is one about my wonderful husband.  This is the blog for friends....as inadequate as that word may be.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, other than to acknowledge that I have wonderful friends, and sometimes I feel like I'm not living up to what I should be living up to because I don't always want to go somewhere at night, I cannot always be easily found, and sometimes, despite that they are my dear friends, I don't want to come out of my shell, my internal world where I'm thinking and dreaming and living.  I can't be found even when I'm right there because wherever it is I go is a place wholly separate from the world around me, regardless of where I might be at the time.  I have good people and part of me sometimes worries they will wander off (as many have).  Or that we will just wander off and not realize the other one isn't there until it is too late.  And sometimes I have this weird fear that I see more than is there.  Or that I will, somehow, mess it up.  I do that sometimes.  See blog title.

But, then there's that part of me that knows better despite that it should know better.  It reminds me gently of who I'm dealing with here.

There's a few out there whom I never or rarely met.  We talk a lot and then we rarely talk, and yet whenever we pick up the threads, there we are.  The longevity with which my life has been graced by a certain former Marine never ceases to amaze me, especially when taking into account that we occasionally drive each other quite bonkers (detail oriented person with bad memory meets sometimes off the cuff person who doesn't like being pinned down).  Then the uncanny speed with which The Three have found their way into my life and made me need them is both terrifying and exhilarating.   I feel very blessed to have them in my life and to be able to see and hear them laugh.

So..um....thanks?  Stick around if you would.  It is crucial to do some things well, even if history suggests you won't.

"Do you want to lose these friends" is one thing that I can say 'No' to.  Without hesitation.

No.

-T