It’s a damn good thing I have a job that allows me so little time to be introspective. I make it through most workdays without having to dwell in the nasty place my brain has dug for itself. That said, meditation seems to be helping. Maybe. Sometimes. Hell, I don’t know. I keep looking at happy, at the word, the definitions, all the silly Pinterest pretty quotes about being happy, choosing happy, waking up happy (do people DO that? Without caffeine? Do they have teenagers? I didn’t think so.).
Dammit. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing, changing small things as I can. I’m not going through a midlife crisis here. I don’t want to go out and party until the cows come home, I’m not trying to prove that death is far far away, I’m not trying to change my life into something brand new like that will magically make me a different person. I can’t do most of those things. I don’t want to do most of those things. I don’t want to join a bunch of new groups that have more claims on my time than I already have (seriously, people…I’m still buried in my life…nothing has changed there). I don’t need to be up all night dancing and drinking and hanging out with people…that isn’t going to make me happy, and I think honestly any 40-some-year-old who is doing that on a regular basis has some major growing up to do anyway. There needs to be something you care about in the world…if it’s your job, that’s great. I can see if I were a full-time artist, that would be the case. It’s not, though…realistically it will never be. But I can still make a daily place for art. I don’t want brand new. I don’t want much of anything at the moment…just brief glimpses of contentment, peace, maybe humorous moments (one of my students tried to hook me up with a cop friend of hers today…I tried to explain to her why Ms. Nida and cops aren’t probably the best match, but she wasn’t having it), and anything resembling joy? Well…I will get there. I don’t know when. But I will.
At times, it seems like never. Seriously. It does. But I am resilient. I will get through. To somewhere.
Yes. It was a rough day. Then again, most of them are.
I made it to the gym, though. I’m reading a frustrating book there. It makes it harder to concentrate on the reading. Stupid mindfucks keep creeping in. I have to try to hold on to the person I know I am…the core of me. It’s there. I know. I hear her. She’s pissed. She’s mad as hell. She’s also sad, but she’s mad because of that. I’d watch out for her if I were you. She’s got a sketchbook AND a blog, and she’s not afraid to use either.
Anyway. Meditation talked about trying to keep track of when an emotion ends, because it helps you realize you don’t feel like that anymore…but how do I know when the sad ends? I don’t even know how to define the end of the sad? Even in funny moments when I’m laughing, it’s lurking behind all that. Maybe sad isn’t ending at the moment. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I should give them levels…Sad Level 1, Sad Level 2…or colors…Sad Code Red, Sad Code Yellow. But then I need a rubric and a measuring system (can you see the left brain all over this? I am evenly balanced between the two, if that matters any more). I guess it’s to remember that the emotion is not a permanent state. Logically I know that. Emotionally, I know nothing.
I cut out Wonder Under for a good chunk of time tonight.
Yes, I should have been grading. Instead, I cut out flames and smoke and rocks and skeleton parts (those are the tiny little pieces). It was a giant pain in the ass. Seriously, lots of tiny pieces and then pointy pieces and just fussy cutting for ages. I’ve been cutting for almost three measly hours now and I’ve made it through two yards…only four yards to go (another 6 hours? Seems light…).
The next yard has body parts and feathers…
fewer pointy parts, so hopefully it won’t be as much of a pain to cut out. Not that it really matters. It’s time spent making art. It doesn’t feel like anything at the moment, because this is the boring work part, but the next step, the fabric-choosing part…that might be OK. LONG, but OK. I just need to keep making. The making is important. It’s…it’s how I am fixing me. Still broken, yes, but fixing. I don’t actually know at the moment if I’m fixable. I have to assume I am.
Speaking of fixable, my bulb on my digital projector at school has been dying since school started…it’s getting darker and darker and kids can’t read anything. They won’t replace it (at $300 or so a pop) until it actually DIES…seriously, the fact that kids can’t SEE anything is apparently irrelevant. So now I have this dark brown splotch over the left side and it was awful looking, so I rigged this…
I turn the light off, but shine a bright light on the doc cam base where the paper is…it works pretty well, although I get a shadow on one corner. Yes, I had to MacGyver my classroom…again. So annoying. We have our new computers, too, but the broadcast doesn’t work on them until they do something I don’t understand. AND our broadcast is totally pixelated, which we’re supposed to ignore (it’s very artistic-looking)…an example below.
They tried fixing it yesterday with no luck. AND we’re getting some type of Google tablet for teachers only in the next month so we can figure out Google docs or something (wish someone would tell me WHAT I’m supposed to be figuring out), because we’re doing some wacky grant stuff in the future, along with Common Core collaboration AND new standards AND I don’t even know what else because I can’t keep track of it all.
Meanwhile, when I borrow the computer cart, 15 of the 32 computers have dying batteries. Like because they’re old and need replacing, not because they’re not charged. It’s a fun technical world we live in. Don’t tell anyone, but I let them use their phones as timers the other day during a lab, because they don’t know how to read an analog clock. I know. Next, we’re teaching them cursive.
Anyway. I’m trying not to wallow in the suckitude. I don’t like all the quiet in my life, the lack of conversation, like the kind where you’re sitting next to someone on the couch or at dinner with them and having a long conversation about life, liberty, and the pursuit of that damn asshole happiness. That said, it’s not like I had the energy or the opportunity to do either of those things tonight…tomorrow night, I will have the kids and we will talk. It’s not ideal, but it’s all I’ve got.
Kathy Nida 