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HOLY MOTHER OF WHAT....

I may just have a small tiny, weak spot for the Biebs.
EDIT: this was a phase...totally short lived. SERIOUSLY.

"tell me, what is it you plan to do with your on wild and precious life?"--m.o.

Wanderlust from Thinklab on Vimeo.

3.3miles-30.23 better.

2.75 miles @ 24 minutes. Not bad, considering I've run 0, yes, ZERO times since the 5K I ran for Memorial Day weekend. In fact, I think I was running a faster pace than the 5K pace I ran, but alas...the variables were, indeed different.

So begins my summer workout plan. I don't really have one, but I figure I just need to be active, so I've been to the driving range twice and hope to make it out to a course before I leave for Santa Fe.

The Civil Wars

Why are you so far from me?
In my arms is where you are to be
How long will you make me wait?
I don't know how much more I can take
I missed you but I haven't met you
Oh but I want to
How I do
Slowly counting down the days
Till I finally know your name
The way your hand feels round my waist
The way you laugh, the way your kisses taste
I missed you but I haven't met you
Oh but I want to
How I do
How I do
I've missed you but I haven't met you
Oh how I miss you but I haven't met you
Oh but I want to
Oh how I want to
Dear whoever you might be
I'm still waiting patiently

fascinating

I'm signing up to run a 5K....ugh.

blank

I can't sleep. This isn't an unusual occurence, but it's in these times, that my mind takes off on its own. Around this time, I'm actually a muddle of a lot of things: the end of the school term, which in this case, has been a long time coming; the lack of anything that is my life, among greater issues and concerns that surround me about the way my advisees are, the way my colleagues are holding themselves together, and how I feel like I have not contributed in ways. The only thing on my mind is how I can try to correct my golf swing so that I don't keep drawing the ball. The priorities are all out of order. My life goes into reverse in these times, and I have to stop, even when it's really hard to.

I've been thinking a lot about my purpose in life, my direction, my love and motivations. I think about the lack of a love. or a misguided love. I think about spontaniety, of risk, of courage and boldness.

I think about how tired I am. And how the drama of high school seems to color the kind of drama that perhaps I also create in my life. I'm not ready for tomorrow to come, and yet, it has already encroached my space.

I don't feel sorry for myself, and I'm not trying to provoke any kind of sympathy. This is just how I am. this is just how it is...And I also am learning to embrace it. I take solace for a brief moment in the beauty of someone else's perspectives on life, because they seem to mirror a bit the way I catch moments. I also pretend that maybe I could be legitimate friends with some famous people, not because they are famous, but because they offer up the kind of possibility that they would be ultimately human in the most humane, yet celebrated form. I think my curiosity with actors is also that which I long to see--who they are when they aren't busy being someone else. Because I don't know that I have the same suit or roles to hide behind. Do I have my own set of facades? Sure. Doesn't everybody? But I also believe that there are some people who spend most of their time in the limelight, wanting to be human. Perhaps I might also be able to embrace them for such a part of them. I also relish the idea that maybe someone more extraordinary might have some remote interest in someone like me, someone more ordinary.

just sweet

mundae, funday, runday.....

This is the progression. If you might just humor me for a minute, or 6, today tips off the beginning of the wind-down. Fast-paced downward spiral to get to the end, and I'm bracing myself for all that needs to be done. Clearly, there is still not enough time, but I'm trying. A few us are talking at lunch about being able to freeze time, and squeeze in another slot of it, maybe 12 hours or so, to get what we need to, done...and then continue. unpause. Wouldn't that be nice? Don't worry, there's a screenplay in the works, that uses all of the schemes of Memento, Inception, The Adjustment Bureau...but this will be even better. Trust me.

Alas. 'tis moandeheee...and along with it come slow-to-start freshmen English classes, first thing in the morning, a restless but rest-filled (quantitatively speaking) night, and then much paper work to be done. brevity is best, so to those who are still quarantined to their workplaces on a day when the majority of the country celebrates its leadership...maybe we don't have to feel so bad. what is it they say, productivity spurs industry? The industry of knowledge, for me, that is.

here. just for kicks. I made a mix.

we'll get through it. well, you will. I'm still on my way there.

"blue--the color of love", or, the craftiness of hearts

In the past, I have written about the uselessness of Valentine's Day, it's an ineffective Hallmark-establishment of a holiday to make some extra bucks on behalf of chocolate, all the derivatives of the color red, flowers (roses, in particular), and the condom industry. I've boycotted and revolted by way of biting vocabulary, how much I can't stand to have a DAY that is dedicated to overhyping a sensation, an emotion, a sentiment, a state of sharing and being. L-O-V-E.

These letters are freestanding in physical form on the corner of forty or fifty-something streets and 6th avenue in New York, and then again somewhere in Philly. People use the word so deliberately and so unintentionally, that perhaps the degree to which one might understand the word love (and I know I'm guilty of it too) with less conviction, with less thought, with less meaning. or maybe not. But I'd like to believe that I'm one among many who have come to see how language and its usage have evolved, rapidly. To profess one's love for another, for anything, would have been a statement of great proportions back in the day. If I may recall the words of Jane Austen in Pride and Prejudice, the romance and relationship that unfolds between Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy is one that seems to remark how words are not to be taken lightly, and therefore, chosen with precision and care--AFTER he tells her, "...you have bewitched me body and soul..."

This morning, however, the thought did not occur to me that today also marked Valentine's Day. I dressed in mostly black, with the exception of my jeans, and then out of some remorse or feeling that I should try to be a little more acknowledging of this holiday, found a ring of my mom's and slipped it on. This was my vain attempt at being 'in the spirit'--the ring has rubies, a hint of reddish pink, which also happens to be my birthstone. So I'm not a grinch for Valentine's day. I swear, I wasn't deliberately veto-ing the notion of a day filled with giggles and exasperated, overdramatized sighs, with tears even, or just the most unimaginable, pangs of glee that skip around in one's stomach. What's the phrase--'warm-fuzzy feeling'? Tingles that seem to spread throughout your fingertips?

I confessed to a friend yesterday that I'm not sure I've ever really fallen in love. I think I've fallen in love with the idea of something, but perhaps love, in some sense, is truly inconceivable to me. My seniors recently staggered through Paradise Lost--we didn't finish it, but I realize now that the frustration people have with God, is exactly that. We can never conceptualize, or comprehend, even in the minutest of ways, how God loves. It almost becomes illogical. There's a huge amount of faith that we must lean on, that we must risk and demand in order to maybe even catch a glimpse. But in any case, I think in some ways, I have also come to think that maybe the kind of love I wish to experience from God, is also the kind of love that I hope to get from someone else. Impossible, you say. And I think you're right. This is not to say that I give up on the idea. I am a romantic, truly. And I am an idealist. I'm not without the understanding that there is much pain and suffering that takes place in order for all this to be set in motion, but I will say that it requires patience.

Today, however, as I left my apartment for school, Spencer, the oldest of three boys (I would guess he's about 7?) was opening the door, when he heard me coming down the steps. He turned around, and as I said 'hi' to him, Spencer, looked at me, and wished me a "Happy Valentine's Day". My response was a reflex: "Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, Spencer!" But for a little boy to have shared such a greeting, I will admit that a smile curled onto my face.

We long to be loved. There's no shame in that. But if I remember the posts that I have written on past February 14th's (or days before and after), it might indicate loud and clear, how I fear that I will not be loved. In the same way that I skirt the idea of this being a cute, cuddly, feel good day, I secretly wish to be able to participate--so I think about my advisees, and how they would be my valentines, and how we might be able to celebrate L-O-V-E in a different form than the implied romantic kind.

I however, have been trying to gather some experience in the companionistic sense. So I went out to coffee this weekend. No big deal. Just coffee--but when I tried to joke with a friend, who called while he was right next to me, in a bookstore, I finally came to grips--it was a date. I laughed a loud, and then finally embraced the idea--it was a date...so obvious too, to the high school girl working the arts and crafts table at the toy store we visited, and the mother and two daughters who joined us at the table, speculating thoughtlessly about the prospect of a first date, as we created valentines for each other...

Anyway, I post this with roughly an hour and a half left in this day. I won't give up hope, but at least I can feel a little bit of good humor instead of bitterness that may have consumed me in earlier years. =) I suppose one has only the choice of laughing...if we take life too seriously, we miss out.

So while I speak nothing new, I only wish to extend the idea that no day need be designated to raise awareness of that one experience, sentiment, embodiment that everyone wants and deserves. I'm wondering how the blue, finger-painted, secret valentine card that my nephew was busy making yesterday for his momma worked out. I like the trend he's setting. Happy hearts, all.

"Continue slowly, and wait for luck to change"

before I go to bed, finally, I will still have to send an email out to inquire about tentative plans for summer, take a shower, and figure out how I am to rise in roughly 5.5 hours to workout--and then look to all that is ahead for a no class saturday--yet filled with class-related duties.

I have to say though, I still savor these moments. The lamps in my apt burn through the night hours, when most of the eastern seaboard is dormant, unconscious to all the silence and movement still taking place. One of my colleagues, who lives in a house right behind my dorm, approached me a couple days ago and asked, "Now don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing up at 5:30 in the morning?" I responded," I'd ask you the same question, if you notice that I'm up--(she noticed that there is always a light on in one of my rooms--it's my bedroom, if you were curious too)" She chuckles and gives an explanation and then waits to hear mine. At this point, on this particular day, I recall that I actually fell asleep with my lamp on--and would have woken up to turn it off around 5:30--this is a time here, where daylight still refuses to reveal itself on our part of the world--and so a glow from a room window is pretty significant. I can't bear to tell her this--but the other reason is simply this. I am a late sleeper and an early riser. It's biological. She calls it insomnia--I disagree. And no, I don't think I am in denial. I'm just wired differently. I sleep late, and rise early. I need roughly what used to be 5, but is rapidly growing to be 6 hours of sleep per night. According to national sleep studies, I am chronically fatigued, but I also think that my desire to sleep in these days is a result of the winter. SO much so that I have been suckered into buying what is called, a happy lamp; a full spectrum light that is used in order to help remedy seasonal affect disorder. Does it work? I'm not sure...but I do know that I am able to focus a bit more when the light is on.

In any case--my life exists in flourescents for the time being--the replication of day, if you will, to elongate the already brief stint of natural experience that we afford in this long wintry February.

My mother tells me to pray, and to pray with certainty in these times. These times, in particular, are filled with questions, unknown answers, and a plethora of hypotheticals, ideals, and dreams. They are also bogged with the immediate and unsatisfying reality--whether this is the result of the aforementioned possibility, opportunity, I don't know. maybe. But I find it stifling, to be here...to be constantly in limbo, as one of my former students even admits, with sadness and confusion--why I can't friend him on facebook. But part of me remains unable to move, to act. I can't friend him, because I can't move. I cannot detect any positive or negative growth from any of the decisions or outcomes that are to take place in the next month, two months. The future, however, seems and feels bright still, filled with opportunities that may lose their glean when time draws me closer...but I still wonder why. why it has to be this way.

Perhaps I must wait--tread slowly. heed the words of Hemingway. He was, simply, wise.

and now I'll wait for the real light....

Wiz Khalifa, mac Miller, and the ambitions of my life

I'm not exactly sure if the chai latte as what did it for me, but I can't sleep.
This has always been some kind of issue for me. and perhaps on top of the back issues, and the stress of trying to figure out what my life should look like, be like, and other fun stuff, here I am.

My students are currently writing meditations, and it's prompted me to write. So I write. I have been thinking a lot about how difficult this assignment is proving me to be for some of these students. Not only does it require them to think a bit more critically about the way their lives have unfolded, unraveled, it also requires them to think more about why they do the things they do, and who they have become as a result.

As I listen to them, I am transported back to certain parts of my life, and I realize a little bit more that in some sense, I never really thought so seriously about the way my life was. I just did as I was told. One of my colleagues shared yesterday, over softshell crab and sake, that her 'bad side' didn't get out much. Why not, we asked, probed rather. I needed affirmation for the kinds of desires and impulses that I try to suppress within me, so I pushed her to tell me where she was in the realm of herself and her bad self. She told of her marriage that had been expected, anticipated, willed upon her. That ended in divorce. That ended in a sensation of blankness, numbing hurt and an obliterated perception of self that has slowly, since, been rebuilt, reconstructed, redefined.

So I find myself in a place where I no longer wish to live in borrowed space; in these places where I have tried to live into the molded ideals of those around me. My conception of the PhD and where it would take me, my wish to go into some art focused study or career, my obsession with fashion, my love of capturing things with my eyes, these are just a few of the many pursuits that I can't seem to rationalize as practical or achievable in the span of my life. And what only grounds me more to the practicality of living 'the life that others seem to want for me' is fear. Fear of death, fear of debilitating instances, loss.

And so ironically, a couple of my students introduced me to the machinations and talent of mac miller and wiz khalifa, two young and aspiring hip hop artists from pittsburgh. surprisingly, and yet, not so surprisingly, these two young men have done what most people seem to overlook as opportunities in these times: they lean on what they know--their surroundings. So hails the likings of Pittsburgh--nothing special or particular about this city--a place that I used to visit when I was younger, and needed out of Cleveland--said my parents--to visit family friends. But this industry-driven city has still become the center of such hits as "Black and Yellow", and "Knock Knock", where the antics of these two young men surface to expose the retrospective properties that allow Pittsburgh to be, well, Pittsburgh, in all its glory, and likewise, reveal the significancies that make Mac and Wiz who they are.

So now I wonder, where is my life headed? I have been thinking about the different kinds of stories that students have collected, remembered and refurbished as something more tenable, more apt to empathy. And while theirs still seem authentic--repetitive and trite as it can seem at times, they all write with honesty. So begins my own attempt for the same truth-possessed phrasings and notions that these still doe-eyed ones are working to articulate.

RUN RUN RUN

Wednesday: 5 Jan
5K @ 28', 6.5-7.2mph

Friday: 7 Jan
5K @26:03, 6.8-7.2mph, incline 1.5

Tuesday: 11 Jan
5K @26:30, 6.0-7.0, incline 2.0-3.5

Wednesday: 12 Jan
30 min. workout, via Nike Training Club: "Fighter Fit--Beginner level" Let's just put it this way, I don't even qualify for Beginner level material, even though the criteria was, no equipment, and Beginners are people who work out 4-5 times a MONTH. ugh. my 5K's mean nothing....

Friday: 14 jan
30 min. workout, via Nike Training Club: I can't remember what we did, but it involved weights this time, and it went by a LOT faster....and little less painfully.

Tuesday: 18 Jan
30 min. workout, via Nike Training Club: Cardio conditioning...no recoveries. still was feeling out of breath...

Wednesday: 19 Jan
60 min. CoreFusion Basic class at Exhale Spa in Boston. THE GURU Fred was there to teach the class. had no idea what I was getting myself into...but it was good and did good things for my back!

Saturday: 21 Jan.
75 min. CoreFusion Exhale class at Exhale Spa in Boston. More stretching and exercises that killed my glutes. Instructor Kerry was JACKED. holy smokes. (i have 8 more classes to whip my core into shape)

Monday: 24 Jan.
20 min. Run--10 min @6.8-7mph, 10 min (30 sec intervals) @ 9-10mph on incline 1.5
30 min. Nike Training Club Workout-Slim Chance...was not fun--there were recoveries, but lots of leg work...