This morning, as soon as our nanny arrived to take Hudson, I made my Friday march down to my basement office, wadded up a hoodie for a pillow, and decided to sleep on the floor.x No, I wasn’t booting up my computer and reviewing my incoming emails, but I felt like, through the absence of actual work, my proximity to work might be enough. Maeby, who is unaccustomed to me being quite so literally on her level, responded gamely—gamely in the sense that she flopped right beside me so her whiskers could twitch against my cheeks while we both tried to rest.
Yesterday Jeremy and I were sitting on our couch and facing the door to our apartment, and it occurred to me just how much of our life was currently represented by the debris in our entryway. Since yesterday, even more life has happened, making our entry way admittedly messy, but authentically so. Did I want to clean before photographing? Desperately! But that would have negated the time spent (or lack of time spent) flinging our coats off and casting off our boots because our radiator is hyperactive. It would have fed into the social media perfection machine. To clean would be to edit, to cover up the life that hides in the small moments. And my title promises that this is unfiltered, and it’s not clean either.
Last Thursday, I walked home from classes and saw traffic backup piling into an intersection. It wasn’t Times Square Status by any means, but there was a bit of kerfluffle, since it’s not an intersection that is usually very busy. It was easy to peer ahead and see the source of the commotion was a row of ambulances (ambuli?) huddled around a storefront, pulling someone out on a stretcher and loading him or her into the vehicle.
To my students at Christmastime: What do I want you to know most? About English? About High School? About Life?
I’ve been an unreliable journaler in 2012. Here’s some photo documentation of my life which consists mostly of Englishy things and my hedgehog. Jeremy and I need to take more pictures, but I think we both agree that our hedgehog is cuter than both of us, so she gets the most screen time.
I’m a sharer. When I say that, I don’t mean like, “Hey, here’s a bite of my sandwich;” more like, I tend to share personal details a little too readily with an slight dose of hyperbole. I can’t help it. It’s in my blood. My sister’s blog is titled, “And Then Some” for Heaven’s sake.
Guys! It’s a miracle. Somewhere in between yesterday’s blog publication and 7 PM , I developed a real need, not just for glasses but for full-on bifocals! Fortunately, I was able to get a rapid prescription and glasses posthaste!
Today I woke myself up early so I could spend one of my last full days in Chicago completely devoted to writing. So I sauntered to the nearest Starbucks, because sadly it’s the quaintest coffee shop I could find in the area, and then I realized–I’ve never been outside so early in Chicago before.
And I wish I had sooner because the city sounds pretty in the morning. The cars are fewer, more patient. The rumble of big engines isn’t yet warm or confrontational. There’s still some hustle, but definitely less bustle.
I remind myself that though I’ve been sleeping in quite late this summer, I’m a morning girl. I like the composure, the potential of the morning. Chicago wakes up one eye at a time and I think that’s beautiful.
I will miss it here.
I feel like I’m Isaac Mendez learning to paint the future without heroine. What’s that? You mean you haven’t been watching “Heroes” reruns on Netflix because you have a real job and you go to real school and have a real life? …Me too.
Just not right now.
Let me explain what I meant by the simile. One of my major roadblocks to becoming a “real” writer/blogger is that, before this summer, I could only write when I had “Writer Fingers.”When my “muse” of sorts with me. And lots of times, my writer fingers would come and go during the ebbs and flows and tidal waves of homework. Most days I didn’t have writer fingers, but when I did, I could usually tap out a blog.
I’m not sure if I will look back at this summer and think that I was incredibly accomplished. I feel like I cooked a lot. And I baked a lot. And I kept the apartment clean(ish). I read lots of books, and I got some unit planning done. I beat my first video game (Harry Potter Lego Wii Years 1-4).
Sadly, it doesn’t look like I will finish my novel (But not because I haven’t been diligently writing! But through the act of writing, I learned that there’s A LOT more plot/themes left that I had originally designed, and the book will be better for it).
I may still plan the best high school curriculum the world has ever seen, but right now, not knowing my students is a little crippling to this effort. Also, I’m just such a noob.
Also, I did not cure cancer (to be fair, I wasn’t trying). And I didn’t start that blog with my friend Kristi, which I am still sad about, but know that it was my fault.
But I did conquer my crutchy belief that I could only write when my muse was with me. This summer, I’ve forced myself to just write. My novel. Lots more blogs than I usually do. And with the friends I’ve made, I’ve been grateful.
…But at least this summer I feel like I’ve accomplished something. I’ve made friends!
*This post has been edited because it appears that I have committed a blogger faux pas. Hahahaha. To be honest I’m amused by the rules that I’m woefully ignorant to.
PS: A sincere, sincere thanks to those of you who have donated to or shared the Aurora Shooting campaign. We are so close to our goal. I feel so grateful for you all.