Thinking About Titles

I keep looking at the title of this blog, and thinking about how poorly I've lived up to the "loving" part. Most of my posts are filled with cranky ravings about the things I don't like, rather than the things that bring me joy. No more.

I have these moments often - the ones where I realize that I'm putting way too much negative energy out into the world, with no real plan for addressing the problems that I see. I live in a city where I feel constantly bombarded by negative energies and rather than wearing my positive energy like a shield, I accept that negative energy, and worse, contribute to it. But I'm really making an effort to change that; I'm so tired of feeling... well, tired! And bitchy and aggressive. I know that I am perfectly entitled to feelings of a less positive nature (no one can be perfectly sunny all the time, of this I am convinced), but I am trying to work on how I deal with them.

One of the first steps I'm taking is changing my diet. More vegetables! Less refined sugar! And probably most important, smaller portion sizes! Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but I do believe that the food we choose to fuel our bodies with makes a difference in how we feel. I've tried, for the last month, to consume fewer refined sugars because I noticed that when I ate a lot of candy, I felt more depressed (I have an almost insatiable sweet tooth). Maybe it's a mind-over-matter thing, but I feel so much happier lately. So, sugar or no sugar, the effort to change my diet has definitely improved my mood (however, I refuse to give up ice cream, so that has become my refined-sugar-treat-at-the-end-of-the-day of choice).

I'm also just trying to focus on the good things that I have in my life - my friends and family, my home (beautiful!), my crafting, my job. All of these things that bring so much love and goodness to my tiny daily existence make it all seem so much more worthwhile. I'm going to try to journal more (in general), blog more (here, at Which Stitchery and Sacred Spiral Pottery), and in general be more present in my life and more intentional in what I say and do. I think a lot of this will involve listening. To myself, to others, to the Universe. Listening, and planning a little more, and maybe drinking more tea. ^.^

I feel so amazing today. I smell delicious (thank you, Etsy), I'm wearing clothes that make me feel like a gypsy (in the best possible way), and I got an email this morning from the New York Blood Center detailing where the blood I donated went to (so cool!). And I feel like I can do damn near anything. Perhaps when I get home tonight, I'll fix up my craft room proper so I can sew to my heart's content later this week.

And on that note, I'm going to go off and be a productive little bee. Enjoy this marvelous, beautiful summer day! ^_^

Dewa, mata.

Strange, Drunken Valentine Musings

What a strange week I've had.

In the last 7 days I've gone from zen to panic to despair to anger to panic to frustrated to impatient to panic and back to zen. Today I seem to have landed on slightly lonely and depressed, which makes not a lick of sense but is inclined to happen when I'm home alone with my cat and a bottle of wine. *shrug*

I feel like something major is coming, and I don't know if I'm supposed to sit here and wait for it to happen (more likely, since I am by nature a VERY passive person) or if I'm supposed to be proactive and go out and MAKE it happen (less likely, as I tend to avoid all responsibility until the last possible moment, hence why I may be leaving the city rather sooner than expected). I don't know what this major thing is, besides a relocation of my person and possesions. It could be something else, but it feels as though the Universe has been screaming in my left ear for the last two (almost three) years, telling me to GET THE HELL OUT OF NEW YORK CITY AND GO SOMEWHERE ELSE FOR A CHANGE, WILL YA?! And I, stubborn, stubborn girl that I am, have done everything in my power, up to and including horrible mooching, to stay exactly where I am even though I'm now deaf in my left ear as a consequence.

Panic and despair stems from the fact that it's really hard to find work right now and that the New York State Department of Labor is full of the most un-empathetic prick dickwads you could possibly imagine. I honestly just don't get the job thing, though. I know this is a country-wide issue, but I feel like everyone else looking for a job has found one, and me, who is now screaming back at the Universe (and all potential employers) that I AM AVAILABLE TO WORK AND QUALIFIED TO DO MOST JOBS THAT I APPLY FOR AND EVEN IF I'M NOT I CAN LEARN IT SUPER FAST, can't seem to land something that pays peanuts. Which, I might add, I would work for since my fridge is empty.

I've been on a bunch of interviews that felt really good at the time; I had a nice rapport with staff and interviewers and have been lavished with promises that "we'll get back to you either way," and yet, here it is February 14th and I've got to call my landlord tomorrow to see if he'll let me use my security deposit for rent in March because I can't pay it otherwise.

Do I just pack it in and go home? Do I finally just stop and listen to what circumstances have been trying to tell me for so long?

What's really messed up is that I don't know if I WANT to stay here anymore. I sort of wish I could transplant this beautiful fucking apartment somewhere in the middle of the state of Vermont and start a garden.

These days I feel like the least financially responsible person in the world. And I don't know if it's worth it to waste my security deposit on the off chance that I MIGHT find work that MIGHT pay my rent in the next two or three weeks. I know thinking positive will bring positive things, but it's really hard to think positive when you can't go grocery shopping or feed your cat because you literally don't have a dime to spare. And even if you did, what the fuck is a dime going to do?

I've said goodbye to a lot of my things lately. In an effort to keep myself sane I've been combing and recombing my life to get rid of anything that will be excess weight when I inevitably move again. Today I said a tearful goodbye to my faithful futon, who was so used and unloved that no one wanted him, even for free (curse you craigslist!). Tomorrow it's a trip to Journal Square to ditch some books and appliances and things that I just have no use for anymore. If only I had the strength and courage to go through my scrap fabric, but now that I quilt it's harder than ever to say I don't want that teensy piece of cotton batik... point being, do I just suck it up and say goodbye to the city?

And, while I'm at it, let me bitch for just one second about my asshat father, who has spent his entire life telling me that what I'm doing isn't good enough. Never directly - it's always been, "wow, this is really amazing, BUT..." And let me tell you something. A little girl hearing that "but" every time she tried to do something nice or amazing or DECENT really only hears: "it's not good enough, why did you even bother trying?" I'm especially frustrated these days because that's all I hear in my head. WHY am I trying? To do anything? You know what my father said to me when I told him I wanted to leave teaching? He said, "well, Vanessa, I really hate to see you GIVE UP." And at first, I was super pissed off at him because HOW DARE HE say anything about giving up when he hasn't had a solid goddamned job in YEARS?

But lately I wonder if I have just given up. Not on teaching (which I'm further and further convinced was a total waste of my time), but on myself. Every time I think, "hey, I can do THIS, it would totally work," I see all sunshine and rainbows for about ten seconds before reality slams me in the other ear (you know, the one that still functions) till it's ringing.

I trust that I'm on a path and that it's going to lead to good things, but right now I'm stuck at Motel 6 and there are bugs in my bed and the phone doesn't work and the hot water won't run for more than five minutes at a time. I am SO GRATEFUL for the people in my life who won't give up on me even when I've stopped trying. They're the only thing that makes me feel like one day I'll have a stopover at the Four Seasons or something.

I guess if I'm complaining this much about the way things are going, I can't be too zen about the way things are right now. I'm reading a book called The 20-Something Manifesto, which a friend recommended to me. It's a great book, articulates a lot of things I've felt over the last few years in a way that I never could... but it's also frustrating as fuck to read because so much of it depends on whether or not you have a JOB.

I made this choice and put myself in this situation. I own that. But I jumped out of one boat and into a serious fire assuming that I wouldn't have a problem finding work. Which obviously was an erroneous assumption.

Ugh. I would like to stop feeling like I'm in limbo now.

A Life Less Ordinary

I've been listening to Carbon Leaf's "A Life Less Ordinary" on repeat lately. I hear this song and even though it's talking about a relationship, I hear a call to live my life how I want to live my life, not how society or my friends or my parents expect me to. Of course, that raises the question, how do I want to live my life? What do I want out of this little blip of an experience? And how in the world will I ever figure this out in time to make it meaningful?

(I feel like assigning meaning to anything is sort of pointless, since eventually my body will be happily feeding some trees in the gloriousness of the life cycle of this planet. But there's something really human about wanting the things we do to endure beyond our short little lives, so, I won't apologize for feeling this way.)

This is going to come off sounding whiny to some people, I know, but I will make the disclaimer here that I am not unhappy right now. Lost as fuck, yes. Unhappy, definitely not. I feel a million times freer than I did a month ago, and have found a few coping mechanisms that had once been my friends hiding in my bedroom closet. I've since dusted them off and am using them with abandon.

I don't have a clue what I want to do with myself. That's really the crux of the issue these days; it's not that I don't have a job, or that I'm tired of New York City, or that I hate the idea of leaving my friends behind even if it becomes necessary. I can deal with not having a job (I think I've spent more time in the city without a job than with one, actually), I can deal with walking through the streets and not knowing or even recognizing a single person I see, I can call or email friends if I have to leave (those of you who are already far away, please don't give away the terrible secret that I actually suck at this). What I can't deal with, or at least am having a hard time dealing with, is that the path before me is completely unclear. There's no end-goal in sight. I'm a planner - maybe not a good one, but I like to have a plan, and right now the only plan I have is to make a new plan.

In the past weeks, while trolling through craigslist and Monster and idealist.org to find an office job that any monkey could perform (just to pay my bills, which keep showing up despite the hexes I sent in the mail to my credit card companies. ... just kidding), I have compiled a list of all of the things I enjoy, and could see myself making something of a "career" out of. In no particular order, I've thought of being a professional seamstress, a librarian, a farmer, an editor, a book designer, a yoga instructor, a baker, a chef, a masseuse, a bee keeper, a sailor, a jeweler, a fire performer, or a professional drifter. I've visited schools, emailed friends, called people I know in the business, and have cast nets out looking for at least a hint of where I should head next, but I haven't found any answers yet.

I know I want to live simply. What does that mean? In my mind, it means making enough money to feed, clothe, and house myself (and occasionally travel), but not enough to give in to the spending culture we live in. It means I should probably get my driver's license before my foot forgets how to work a gas pedal, but I don't want to own a car. It means I need to get a bike, ride it every day for fun, and have a basket for when I need to go shopping. It means I must make yoga an integral part of my day, no excuses. It means that I cook simple meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It means that I have time for textile arts or whatever other hobby happens to have my attention at the time. And it means that I am open and honest with the people in my life, no matter who they are, where they live, or how I feel about them. It means having faith rather than being afraid.

Is this a life less ordinary? I feel like I won't do well doing what "normal" people do. This whole work, work, work, so I can earn, earn, earn, and spend, spend, spend, and maybe leave a little money for my children when I die thing just doesn't appeal. I used to think that having a family - you know, husband, children, pets, white picket fence and all that - was what I wanted, but I'm starting to realize a lot of things about myself that don't fit in this picture. So, if I don't want normal, if trying to be "normal" and work "normal" and live "normal" hasn't worked... what do I do?

This is where that faith over fear thing comes in. I think I'm working myself up to the faith part, because I still have too many "what ifs" running around in my brain. That part of me that likes for things to be perfectly coordinated and planned balks at the idea of living as a sailor on a boat somewhere, with no guarantee of work or housing when I'm shore-bound. It hates the idea of uprooting my life to go someplace completely new for a job that might not last longer than a few months. But this is a wind I have to bend to, I guess.

One of my favorite quotes is "Be patient with all that is unresolved in your heart. Love the questions." I often find it extremely difficult to love the questions, or be patient. But I am trying, desperately, to do so right now. I was in this place four years ago, wondering what I was going to do with my life. I landed on teaching, and ended up hating it. I know that if I rush this, I'll be asking myself a lot of the same questions again in four years. And while I know that the journey is important, I would really love to find something that sustains me emotionally, spiritually, and physically... no more wondering.

On the hunt now...

Plugging for A Dear Friend...

So, a very dear friend of mine is very ill, and needs to have surgery in order to fix a recent complication of an already existing unidentified syndrome. Like so many of us, he has no health insurance, is unemployed, and this surgery is going to cost him lots and lots of dollars (estimates of $10,000 or more). He is a great person, and doesn't deserve to spend the next ten years paying off horrendous bills, and I'd like to help ease the cost for him. I am coming to all of you with this because you're awesome, and I know there are so many generous hearts out there. I know the Christmas crunch is approaching, but if it's possible for you to buy some delicious Nessa-lovin' to help me help my friend out, it would be appreciated so, so much.

For $10, you'll be able to choose from a bunch of different cookies (peanut butter or chocolate chip, gingerbread cookies are $15 due to ingredients), candy (toffee), and fudge (plain, peanut butter, or mint) all baked and cooked up by me, put in a box/plastic container, and decorated with whatever stickers I have lying around at the time. ^_^;

**Anyone who doesn't live within delivery/pick up distance, I will happily mail you your baked goods!

If you are able and willing, please donate to John directly by visiting his website here. If you want to read about this issue in John's own (delectable) words, visit this page. And finally, if you just want to skip all the hullaballo and just get to the donatin', please click here and throw John some love.

Of course, I completely understand if folks aren't in a position to spend money, so your good thoughts for John's safe recovery are more than welcome. His surgery is next Friday, the 20th, if you want to send out good energy on a specific day!

Thanks for reading guys... any help is welcome! Spread the word! Comment or send me an email at prettypagan [at] gmail [dot] com if you're interested in the baked goods!

Blessed Be!

The Only Thing That Matters

As I was reminded this evening by my excellent godfather, the only thing that really matters in this life is the here and now. We cannot change the past - what is the point of endlessly obsessing over things that we may or may not have done wrong? We cannot know the future - what is the point of planning for a future that may never come and concerning ourselves, worrying ourselves, over things that we cannot know? The only thing we have is here and now, the only thing we have is the next breath.

I'm a little disappointed with myself for forgetting that so easily. When three people that I loved very much and in very different ways all died within a year of each other, I swore I would live my life like each moment was my last. I would remain grounded here, I would stay focused on now. And school makes that a little impossible. Of course you have to plan ahead. Otherwise, nothing will get done. But then I have to sit back and ask myself, if the world was literally going up in smoke, what would I be doing HERE and NOW? My thesis doesn't matter worth a damn in the long run. My unit plan for three months down the line is ashes. All that is left is me, in my body, taking breath, focused, focused, focused.

I feel so Zen right now it's not even funny. And I'm so glad, because I haven't felt that way in a long time. And I should, dammit. I should feel this every single second of every single day.

So should you.

Goodnight.

Slipping

Today I attended a professional development workshop at my placement school. It was the first "real" PD I've ever attended (not including the NYSEC conference I went to last October...), and it left me feeling even more confused about the world of education.

There is something to be said about the discrepancy between what we learn in the program (education should be holistic and joyful!) and what I've seen in the classroom/school (education should be wrapped in a neat little box!). And what bothers me about this discrepancy is that I've always felt that education should be about the outside of the box.

On the one hand, it's great that so many schools are trying to support teaching staff by giving them strategies to try out in their classrooms - strategies that will give them more "control" (an issue I have anyway, as I feel control in any situation is an illusion) or show them a new way to approach direct/collaborative/guided instruction or what have you. On the other, though, I'm bothered by the idea that education is being boxed up. It's like these PD people are saying, "Let's make education nice and neat and pretty, and we'll tie it off with a shiny big bow!" when education is really messy and nonlinear and as far from shiny as you can get.

It's a slippery business, trying to box in something that's completely huge and amorphous and wild. It's slippery because people are slippery. You can't package the school day into a nice, neat package and call it a day! You have a mixed bag of students. You have a mixed bag of home lives, socio-economic issues, day-to-day adolescent crap, teachers-with-tempers, every single day of the school year. There's no telling how those things are going to interact, and trying to put them all under one thumb or one label or one mandated method for doing things is not going to solve anyone's problems.

We don't all fit one label. When will the higher ups realize this...?!

Not the Voice

I just finished reading Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities, and this particular quote stuck out at me:

"It is not the voice that commands the story: it is the ear." (p. 135)

There is something about this that just screamed YES! to me. In all of my pre-service readings, we read about and discuss what it is for students to come to a text and decipher it, what it used to mean for students to read "literature" or the "canon" and regurgitate pre-approved interpretations that would get you into an Ivy League university but wouldn't get you thinking for yourself. This is something that, especially coming from an author, is a direct challenge to that long-held tradition of university interpretation - of what constitutes good literature/how we should or should not respond to that literature.

Because it isn't the voice that commands the story. As much as some people will argue this is true, once a novel or an op-ed or a children's book is out of the author's hands and in the hands of the public, the way that piece is received and interpreted and responded to is going to be dynamic. It's going to change. The ears that a text falls on are going to command how that text is interpreted - how it should be read. And since there are any given number of ears for a single text to fall on, well... the interpretations will be varied, to say the least.

I struggle with the knowledge that this approach to reading and literature is so abhorrent to the academic community at large. I know that many pre-service programs these days advocate for such approaches to the teaching of literature, but there still seem to be so many challenges to fully implementing a curriculum that embraces varied interpretation, even when "progressive" teachers are supposedly filling the ranks left by older teachers who cling to the conservative, bottom-up style of instruction.

I start my practicum next Monday. I received my placement today, and all I can think about is how amazing this book was, how it is a book for people who love the look and feel and sound of words... and how I am going to inflict such readings on my poor guinea pig students. By the gods, I'll make them respond... even if the response is to hate the book!

Making Meaning.

So, as a pre-service English teacher, I have been exposed to an awful lot of text dealing with the teaching of writing. It's one of those things that I never really thought about before I went off on this crazy journey, but it's definitely something I'm thinking about now. What is writing? What does it mean to teach writing?

Even after two years in an education program and coming out of a class on teaching writing just this December, I still feel like I haven't a clue as to how to answer these questions. More specifically, I still don't really know how to expose my students to writing and explain to them how to do it without simply explaining what I do as a writer. This of course has its potential benefits as well as serious drawbacks (the most obvious being that my students are not, in fact, me, and therefore will not learn the same way that I do or did), but I am at a loss to otherwise give writing instruction to students who don't really want to write, much less have someone comment on whether or not they're doing it well.

I'm a woman with many interests. I want my fingers in every pot. I want to travel and I want to experience the world through a distillable lens. I want to play with language and I want to play. But most of all I want my own life experience to inform my teaching so that my students can be equally interested in life - equally desirable of having their fingers in all the pots. I want to foster their sense of curiosity because they're human and they have one whether or not they'll admit it. And I feel, on the brink of my student teaching practicum, that I have been utterly unprepared to do this.

They say that one in every five teachers leaves the profession before they've spent an adequate amount of time getting their feet wet (about five years). They say that this rate is highest in urban centers where a multitude of factors make for (in)tense learning situations. They say you'd better harden your shell, because the kids will eat you alive if you show even the smallest bit of compassion for them as human beings.

I say it's all bullshit.

I will not be one of those teachers who doesn't care about her students. I will not be one of those teachers who gets scared off by administrative bullies or the testing culture. I will not be the teacher who walks away after two years because it's not what I thought it was going to be. And I will not be the teacher who goes home at night and doesn't reflect on her own practice. Because this is not who I am. This is not what I want. And I won't let it happen.

I will reflect. I will rejoice. And I will renew, when the situation calls for it.