And so I did make it to Boston last weekend!
My loving friends, Gina and Cynthia, picked me up with a car share at 1:30 am. We chatted excitedly, left the car in the proper place, and walked to Gina’s house. We sipped coffee, ate, and chatted on the kitchen floor until nearly four in the morning.
After Cynthia and I were tucked-in Gina stayed up in that mysterious way I’ve never understood in order to complete a report. Everyone made it out of bed by noon. I wanted to wake the girls up earlier, but at that point I wasn’t sure how late Gina had been up, and I knew that Cynthia was jet lagged. So I enjoyed the sun pouring in through the two windows, and when I got restless with my own thoughts I plugged into my ipod.
Chatting, laughing, eating, and cuddling, which so richly sums up the entire weekend, continued upon waking. While leisurely sipping hot beverages Gina came to the conclusion that her phone was in the car share, so an announcement was posted and we merrily went about preparing to leave. I wanted to show Gina something I had in my purse, but then I realized that I too had forgotten something in the car. Another post was made on the car share website, and off we went! The three of us were unstressed by our forgotten things. We rationalized that it was no great calamity if the items were no more, and we decided we would probably get them back anyway.
Boston is full of art! Street art everywhere, which gives it a comfortable feel. We visited three different sections of Boston; Jamaica Plain, Dudley, and the Little Italy. All of which were so large that they had their own “downtowns”. I never saw, an apartment complex, although they probably exist somewhere in Boston. Gina lived in a neighborhood that had large multi-family homes that people rented out. They are a much nicer alternative to sprawling, ugly, impersonal apartment complexes. Each neighborhood had its own feel, but they all had interesting visual contrast. There was a nice mix between brick, and siding facades. Lots of the buildings were colorful and had large bay windows. Friday we walked the freedom trail, saw an old cemetery, and saw some of the harbor.
After an amazing meal we went back to Gina’s place to relax and sort out our missing items. Since we hadn’t heard anything, we decided to reserve the car for an hour early Saturday morning and see if our stuff was still there. I checked with the airline about what I should do if I don’t have identification, and contacted my family. Then we kept having fun!
I love these girls! Gina is my best friend ever, and Cynthia is really special. We travel well together. Their perspective on everything is wonderful, but the lost items ordeal really exemplifies how amazing they are. Our day was not ruined and nobody pouted. We created a plan based on what was in our control and then we let it go so that we could enjoy one another.
It is a lot easier for me to keep this kind of perspective when I’m around such strong positive people.
Last week I was disapointed in myself for crying when I showed up to an appointment only to discover that the clinic goofed and they wouldn’t be able to see me. Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Nobody sought to frustrate me or let me down. It was a mistake. C’est la vie. Yet as I was calmly telling the receptionist why I was disappointed, and asking her to please speak with those involved my voice quavered and tears fell. I didn’t want to make her feel bad, she hadn’t even made the mistake. The most bewildering thing for me was that I didn’t understand why I was so disappointed. I was missing time with my kids, and I had scheduled carefully, but things change. Roll with it. Goodness! It’s not worth crying about.
When I’m with Gina and Cynthia it’s easier to take trivial disappointments like a lost purse in stride.
In the end we recovered our items and continued with our chatting, laughing, and eating.
I went to college with these girls. We’ve seen each others transformation from awkward freshmen to women. We’ve shared homes together, good times, and hard times. It’s liberating to deconstruct my thought processes with these strong ladies, and get their perspective. It’s exciting to see them reaching for higher degrees, and new opportunities. These women are, creative, wise, reflective, thoughtful, searching, and talented.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Fly Like An Eagle
The sound of a snap that seemed to rush backward and something hovering in my periphery caused me to look up from my book. I was greeted by three oxygen masks, and suddenly the extra popping in my ears made sense. The whole affaire seemed suspiciously void of urgency; as if someone had let them loose as a joke. The bright yellow masks bounced around on curly cords like party hats dangling from the ceiling. Only, nobody was impressed with the joke and awkward silence left no room for laughter. I grabbed a mask and calmly untangled the elastic band from the cup and put it on.
After I got myself sorted out I glanced at my neighbor to the left, he was breathing deeply as if trying extra hard to stay calm. I smiled at him, and his smile told me he was alright. Then we both glanced at the crew who seemed tranquil. I looked behind me, concerned about potential panickers, and hoping that they had a hand to hold. As airline seats disrupt the view more than two rows back I contented myself to re-examine my own oxygen mask, which was inflating. I’ve heard the speech enough to know that inflation is not to be expected. Another quick look around revealed that my mask was the only special one. I decided that I was probably okay and entertained myself by squeezing out the oxygen and watching it refill. Then, wishing I had a hand to hold, I pulled out a letter I carry in my purse and read it.
Meanwhile a flight attendant had completed a check of everyone in the cabin, so I could only assume that all was well. As she was taking her seat the pilot confirmed this with a much anticipated announcement that everything was okay. This announcement was later followed by the news that the internal pressurizer could not keep up with the rapid change in altitude, thus the masks had dropped, just as they should. He informed us that oxygen masks were no longer necessary as he had decended to 9,000 feet where the air contains plenty of oxygen. Apparently it is unacceptable to fly for any significant duration at 9,000 feet so we went back to Saint Louis where another plane was waiting to whisk as off to Boston.
After the last announcement people tentatively took off their masks and the gentle rumble of conversation banished the awkward silence. I again looked behind me, and my neighbor said “Well, now we have a story to tell.” To which I confessed my long held desire for the masks to fall. Upon overhearing this, the other woman sitting behind me looked visibly horrified. I felt no remorse. Check. One more thing off my list.
As we were boarding the next plane, it was clear that this small danger brought everyone together in a pseudo incipient community. People were a little extra chatty; rehashing the event, making jokes, and sharing feelings. During the next safety speech everyone clapped when the flight attendant brought out the oxygen mask. At cruising altitude the beverage cart came through and more than the typical amount of alcohol was poured complements of Southwest.
After I got myself sorted out I glanced at my neighbor to the left, he was breathing deeply as if trying extra hard to stay calm. I smiled at him, and his smile told me he was alright. Then we both glanced at the crew who seemed tranquil. I looked behind me, concerned about potential panickers, and hoping that they had a hand to hold. As airline seats disrupt the view more than two rows back I contented myself to re-examine my own oxygen mask, which was inflating. I’ve heard the speech enough to know that inflation is not to be expected. Another quick look around revealed that my mask was the only special one. I decided that I was probably okay and entertained myself by squeezing out the oxygen and watching it refill. Then, wishing I had a hand to hold, I pulled out a letter I carry in my purse and read it.
Meanwhile a flight attendant had completed a check of everyone in the cabin, so I could only assume that all was well. As she was taking her seat the pilot confirmed this with a much anticipated announcement that everything was okay. This announcement was later followed by the news that the internal pressurizer could not keep up with the rapid change in altitude, thus the masks had dropped, just as they should. He informed us that oxygen masks were no longer necessary as he had decended to 9,000 feet where the air contains plenty of oxygen. Apparently it is unacceptable to fly for any significant duration at 9,000 feet so we went back to Saint Louis where another plane was waiting to whisk as off to Boston.
After the last announcement people tentatively took off their masks and the gentle rumble of conversation banished the awkward silence. I again looked behind me, and my neighbor said “Well, now we have a story to tell.” To which I confessed my long held desire for the masks to fall. Upon overhearing this, the other woman sitting behind me looked visibly horrified. I felt no remorse. Check. One more thing off my list.
As we were boarding the next plane, it was clear that this small danger brought everyone together in a pseudo incipient community. People were a little extra chatty; rehashing the event, making jokes, and sharing feelings. During the next safety speech everyone clapped when the flight attendant brought out the oxygen mask. At cruising altitude the beverage cart came through and more than the typical amount of alcohol was poured complements of Southwest.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
MLK Day!
January is gone in a hustle and a bustle. The highlight of the month is Martin Luther King Day. The Federal Way partnered with several organizations across town to organize a synergistic day of service that comprised several projects around town.
I was at a Dunbar Middle school which was located in a neighborhood that looked like a ghost town. We were tasked with painting:
· A hallway
· An office
· A gym
In the end the 125 volunteers painted:
· 2 hallways
· An office
· A gym
· The lunchroom
· A bathroom
· Cleaned a chaotic room disheveled by flood.
· Picked up trash.
The volunteers were mostly youth part of a group called Jack and Jill which are mothers and children who come together to socialize while serving and learning. We also had Teach For America folks, college students, and us AmeriCorps folks.
It was really powerful to see how much we accomplished in 4 hours. It all came together so quickly. The cost and time expenditure on the same project would have been enormous if it had been undertaken at market value. Time is a phenomenal resource. All these 125 people gave was 4 hours. No money, no supplies, just their beautiful hands.
Now the students at Dunbar Middle School have a bright clean learning environment. Many studies have explored the connection between attractive, dynamic environments and positive learning outcomes. I hope that the students at Dunbar will feel a little more cared about; I hope they will find school more pleasant, and I hope they will overcome the odds against them.
I was at a Dunbar Middle school which was located in a neighborhood that looked like a ghost town. We were tasked with painting:
· A hallway
· An office
· A gym
In the end the 125 volunteers painted:
· 2 hallways
· An office
· A gym
· The lunchroom
· A bathroom
· Cleaned a chaotic room disheveled by flood.
· Picked up trash.
The volunteers were mostly youth part of a group called Jack and Jill which are mothers and children who come together to socialize while serving and learning. We also had Teach For America folks, college students, and us AmeriCorps folks.
It was really powerful to see how much we accomplished in 4 hours. It all came together so quickly. The cost and time expenditure on the same project would have been enormous if it had been undertaken at market value. Time is a phenomenal resource. All these 125 people gave was 4 hours. No money, no supplies, just their beautiful hands.
Now the students at Dunbar Middle School have a bright clean learning environment. Many studies have explored the connection between attractive, dynamic environments and positive learning outcomes. I hope that the students at Dunbar will feel a little more cared about; I hope they will find school more pleasant, and I hope they will overcome the odds against them.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Wild Idea!
The other day Stefanie and I had a lovely time ice-skating, then we went to the history museum. There were two special exhibits. One was about the phenomenal and exquisite Katherine Dunham. The other exhibit was about treasure, and it required tickets, which were free for Saint Louis residents. Upon learning that we would be charged as out of town residents; Stef and I thanked the attendant and left without the tickets.
As we were entering the Katherine Dunham exhibit a man gave Stef and I tickets to the treasure exhibit. This Saint Louis resident overheard us asking about the tickets so he requested extra tickets to share with us.
Stefanie and I were happy and surprised by this random act of kindness. We thanked the gentleman as he quickly left. Stef shared my perspective that this sort of wonderful thing happens all the time.
The kind stranger truly made us smile and sparked a conversation about assuming the best about people. Almost nobody sits around conniving to hurt others. Those who do, have psychological problems. I’ve been trying to keep this in mind when I’m upset, though it is so much harder if I’m triggered.
The day after the history museum while doing much wonderful cooking, I could hear the show my sister was watching about Lady Cops. These tuff women described themselves as jaded due to all they’ve seen. In order to protect themselves physically and emotionally cops need to assume the worst.
I mixed what I was hearing on the show with things I’ve heard from the neighborhood cop, then I addeed en my own flowery world view with sprinkles of thought about the prison industrial complex, healing, and social justice. The resulting thought was, “I could be a cop!”
Yes, I too am quite surprised, at the thought synthesis. Being a cop would be a supreme challenge. I’ve had challenges to my world view, but being a cop would be the epitome of challenge. An unchallenged conviction is just a fantasy. I don’t imagine myself as a cop forever, because law enforcement doesn’t seem to be an effective means to address social issues, but I can see myself doing it for 5 years. Oh, yet another idea for my future…
As we were entering the Katherine Dunham exhibit a man gave Stef and I tickets to the treasure exhibit. This Saint Louis resident overheard us asking about the tickets so he requested extra tickets to share with us.
Stefanie and I were happy and surprised by this random act of kindness. We thanked the gentleman as he quickly left. Stef shared my perspective that this sort of wonderful thing happens all the time.
The kind stranger truly made us smile and sparked a conversation about assuming the best about people. Almost nobody sits around conniving to hurt others. Those who do, have psychological problems. I’ve been trying to keep this in mind when I’m upset, though it is so much harder if I’m triggered.
The day after the history museum while doing much wonderful cooking, I could hear the show my sister was watching about Lady Cops. These tuff women described themselves as jaded due to all they’ve seen. In order to protect themselves physically and emotionally cops need to assume the worst.
I mixed what I was hearing on the show with things I’ve heard from the neighborhood cop, then I addeed en my own flowery world view with sprinkles of thought about the prison industrial complex, healing, and social justice. The resulting thought was, “I could be a cop!”
Yes, I too am quite surprised, at the thought synthesis. Being a cop would be a supreme challenge. I’ve had challenges to my world view, but being a cop would be the epitome of challenge. An unchallenged conviction is just a fantasy. I don’t imagine myself as a cop forever, because law enforcement doesn’t seem to be an effective means to address social issues, but I can see myself doing it for 5 years. Oh, yet another idea for my future…
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Tutoring
December has come, and nearly gone. After a turbulent re-entry to the United Sates I am finally feeling settled into my life here in Saint Louis. It is currently winter break from my tutor position with 3rd graders at Woodward Elementary School.
The last day of school there was a holiday assembly. A 5th grader introduced the goals of the assembly. He expressed gratefulness for living in the United States where every child can go to school and get a free, quality education. These words stung my eyes, and the water works continued as a gym full of innocent, undereducated, underprivileged children stood for “My Country Tis of Thee”. The meritocracy and greatness of this country has never seemed more like indoctrination.
My school isn’t the worst of the worst, but there are kids in every class who can’t read. There are third graders who still don’t know their letters. Kids who qualify for an individualized education plan have a teacher who doesn’t even know what the unique educational needs of their students are. It’s hard to know those needs when the school doesn’t have records to show what those needs are. Who is this glorious free education serving? My education prepared me to be a life-long learner, but the kids in Saint Louis don’t have the same opportunity.
The students are adorable, and they are progressing. All of my kids know their letters now, and they are mastering the basic sight words taught in Kindergarten. Teaching comprehension and writing to those who aren’t as devastatingly behind is more challenging than teaching phonetics to the lower level students. I’m struggling to reach one student who has no motivation even when the subject has been carefully tailored to his interests.
Prior to this service I had a romantic view of passion as contagious. I assumed that my passion for words, letters, and stories, would automatically influence the students to be hypnotized by reading. I don’t write passion off as completely incommunicable, it’s just that these kids have some powerful anti-bodies built up.
Poverty seems harsher here than in the school I worked at in France. My students talk about guns, drugs, and violence. Several of my children have bad breath, and obvious dental problems. Over 90% of children at Woodward eat free breakfast, and lunch at school. The kids don’t have a play ground, and the school is locked. I’ve never been to a school in the States that is locked.
I’m learning and growing, and I’m hoping to help my kids on their path as well. Since September I’ve been reading exclusively children’s literature and pedagogical theory. I suspect this will be my literary diet until the end of my service. I’m sure that even so there is much I need to learn about the skill of imparting knowledge.
And so it is. I try to let it be just like that. Perhaps I’m not as effective as I could be if I were more experienced and trained or if I had more time with the kids. (I regularly fantasize about kidnapping my students and raising them in a carefully constructed dream world.) But I figure there is nothing I can do to hurt these kids, so I patiently cultivate and nurture to the best of my ability.
The last day of school there was a holiday assembly. A 5th grader introduced the goals of the assembly. He expressed gratefulness for living in the United States where every child can go to school and get a free, quality education. These words stung my eyes, and the water works continued as a gym full of innocent, undereducated, underprivileged children stood for “My Country Tis of Thee”. The meritocracy and greatness of this country has never seemed more like indoctrination.
My school isn’t the worst of the worst, but there are kids in every class who can’t read. There are third graders who still don’t know their letters. Kids who qualify for an individualized education plan have a teacher who doesn’t even know what the unique educational needs of their students are. It’s hard to know those needs when the school doesn’t have records to show what those needs are. Who is this glorious free education serving? My education prepared me to be a life-long learner, but the kids in Saint Louis don’t have the same opportunity.
The students are adorable, and they are progressing. All of my kids know their letters now, and they are mastering the basic sight words taught in Kindergarten. Teaching comprehension and writing to those who aren’t as devastatingly behind is more challenging than teaching phonetics to the lower level students. I’m struggling to reach one student who has no motivation even when the subject has been carefully tailored to his interests.
Prior to this service I had a romantic view of passion as contagious. I assumed that my passion for words, letters, and stories, would automatically influence the students to be hypnotized by reading. I don’t write passion off as completely incommunicable, it’s just that these kids have some powerful anti-bodies built up.
Poverty seems harsher here than in the school I worked at in France. My students talk about guns, drugs, and violence. Several of my children have bad breath, and obvious dental problems. Over 90% of children at Woodward eat free breakfast, and lunch at school. The kids don’t have a play ground, and the school is locked. I’ve never been to a school in the States that is locked.
I’m learning and growing, and I’m hoping to help my kids on their path as well. Since September I’ve been reading exclusively children’s literature and pedagogical theory. I suspect this will be my literary diet until the end of my service. I’m sure that even so there is much I need to learn about the skill of imparting knowledge.
And so it is. I try to let it be just like that. Perhaps I’m not as effective as I could be if I were more experienced and trained or if I had more time with the kids. (I regularly fantasize about kidnapping my students and raising them in a carefully constructed dream world.) But I figure there is nothing I can do to hurt these kids, so I patiently cultivate and nurture to the best of my ability.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Anything and Everything!
Last update I expressed my deeply held belief that anything is possible and I provided four freak experiences as evidence. These four events are not the foundation of my adherence to the “anything is possible” theory of life. Indeed an abundance of joyous examples from my life and from the lives of loved ones have convinced me of the truth that anything is possible as well as, “everything is alright”. A few examples…
· Experiences of the 6th sense that make me sure a higher power exists and works through me.
· Traveling to countries I never expected to go to
· Reconnecting with people at just the right time.
· Visiting the apartment of the Peruvian ambassador to Italy.
· People who have helped me catch a bus/train/plane
· Jennifer having kids and getting married.
· The way I was welcomed and taken care of when I went to France.
· All the incredible people who have influenced my life.
· The support I had during the summer, without which I wouldn’t have been able to finish my job.
· Getting close to a wild moose.
· My Grandma surviving stage 4 cancer in the lymphoid.
· My cousins adopting kids.
· My cousins selling, renting, and then building a house despite challenges.
· Graduating college.
· Having a car.
Perhaps some of the events seem mundane or mere luck. Certainly a list does not do these extraordinary events justice, however the afore mentioned things represent the improbable to me. The divine way that things fit exquisitely together. I could list so many more examples from my life and the lives of loved ones, but I think I’ll stop there.
There are beginnings that I’ve had where I was naïve to possible down falls. I struck out full of positivity and innocence. It was only once I was in the midst of the situation that I realized if I had fully thought things through I wouldn’t have made the same choice. The potential for adversity would have paralyzed me and I would have been finished before I started.
France illustrates this point perfectly. I went over there knowing that funds were going to be a little tight for the first month. I didn’t realize until I got there that I flat out didn’t have enough money. If it weren’t for Carole and her family so graciously hosting me for the fist week, I wouldn’t have made it. Moreover the directrice of the Foyer accepted partial payment rent until my first pay check arrived.
If I were fully conscious of financial realities then I doubt I would have taken the risk to go. I would have been too proud to borrow money, and unwilling to sleeping on the street. However I did go, and the community/universe provided.
My choices are influenced by a belief that everything is possible and everything is alright. I was afraid to go to Chile, because I knew I couldn’t afford to buy a car and go to Chile. When I needed to book my flight it was yet unclear if I would need to buy a car. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see my friend if I didn’t buy a car, but I didn’t want to be stuck if I did need to buy a car. I also hated the idea that I had worked so hard all summer so that I could buy a car in order to work more. In the end I took a deep breath and decided to buy the ticket. I didn’t know what the outcome with the car would be, but I was sure that a solution would materialize.
There is something to be said for humility and responsibility. It is arrogant and completely unfair to be constantly needy and dependent on others. I’ve recently made a new goal to establish savings for the more challenging “anythings” such as health concerns, car accidents, job loss, etc. My main point is that there is always an element of risk, potential for unimaginable beauty as well as devastation. So live. Be alive every moment.
· Experiences of the 6th sense that make me sure a higher power exists and works through me.
· Traveling to countries I never expected to go to
· Reconnecting with people at just the right time.
· Visiting the apartment of the Peruvian ambassador to Italy.
· People who have helped me catch a bus/train/plane
· Jennifer having kids and getting married.
· The way I was welcomed and taken care of when I went to France.
· All the incredible people who have influenced my life.
· The support I had during the summer, without which I wouldn’t have been able to finish my job.
· Getting close to a wild moose.
· My Grandma surviving stage 4 cancer in the lymphoid.
· My cousins adopting kids.
· My cousins selling, renting, and then building a house despite challenges.
· Graduating college.
· Having a car.
Perhaps some of the events seem mundane or mere luck. Certainly a list does not do these extraordinary events justice, however the afore mentioned things represent the improbable to me. The divine way that things fit exquisitely together. I could list so many more examples from my life and the lives of loved ones, but I think I’ll stop there.
There are beginnings that I’ve had where I was naïve to possible down falls. I struck out full of positivity and innocence. It was only once I was in the midst of the situation that I realized if I had fully thought things through I wouldn’t have made the same choice. The potential for adversity would have paralyzed me and I would have been finished before I started.
France illustrates this point perfectly. I went over there knowing that funds were going to be a little tight for the first month. I didn’t realize until I got there that I flat out didn’t have enough money. If it weren’t for Carole and her family so graciously hosting me for the fist week, I wouldn’t have made it. Moreover the directrice of the Foyer accepted partial payment rent until my first pay check arrived.
If I were fully conscious of financial realities then I doubt I would have taken the risk to go. I would have been too proud to borrow money, and unwilling to sleeping on the street. However I did go, and the community/universe provided.
My choices are influenced by a belief that everything is possible and everything is alright. I was afraid to go to Chile, because I knew I couldn’t afford to buy a car and go to Chile. When I needed to book my flight it was yet unclear if I would need to buy a car. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to see my friend if I didn’t buy a car, but I didn’t want to be stuck if I did need to buy a car. I also hated the idea that I had worked so hard all summer so that I could buy a car in order to work more. In the end I took a deep breath and decided to buy the ticket. I didn’t know what the outcome with the car would be, but I was sure that a solution would materialize.
There is something to be said for humility and responsibility. It is arrogant and completely unfair to be constantly needy and dependent on others. I’ve recently made a new goal to establish savings for the more challenging “anythings” such as health concerns, car accidents, job loss, etc. My main point is that there is always an element of risk, potential for unimaginable beauty as well as devastation. So live. Be alive every moment.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Rollerblading
I strapped on my rollerblades, and launched myself from the doorstep when suddenly my dad jumped out from the dark wielding a sharp object. Needless to say I screamed and told him that scarring me was uncalled for. Dad told me that he was showing me that I need to watch out more. This sparked a brief conversation on how I interact in the world. The conversation ended with me protesting about living in fear and defending the precautions I take emotionally and physically. Dad asserted that I was naïve and lucky that my ineffectual precautions have not led to my demise. Realizing that the point was mute I rolled my eyes under the cover of darkness and hugged my dad before I rolled away.
Being a sassy girl of the world, I get the “watch out for the Boogie-Man” talk a lot. The biggest initiators of these warnings are my many parents are who are in perpetual fear that I’m going to be attacked and or abducted. At least one of my parents also considers it a possibility that I could be brain washed. These fears are genuine and thus I consider the most loving thing for me to do is reassure my parents with smiles, hugs, kisses, and regular contact. If I can pacify their concerns without altering my sense of self then I do.
Despite the recommendations of everyone in my family, one simple act that I am incapable of fulfilling is watching the movie “Taken”. I’ll save my political, feminist arguments about the sexualization of violence against women and the absurdity of violence as entertainment regardless of context for another blog. Thoughts on media aside, I just can’t watch scary or bloody movies.
My imagination is still alive and well. Normally I skip around thinking happy thoughts and making up beautiful things in my head. I credit my general happiness to this habit of perpetually daydreaming. Perhaps my privilege makes it possible for me to go around in a fantasy land. Or perhaps I’m genetically inclined to float around on a sublime cloud. Whatever the case may be, that is how I function.
My imagination has a dark side however. This coincides with other images that pop up at bizarre times. Sometimes I’m walking along on a sunny day humming a song to myself when somewhere from the depths of my mind the idea that someone (usually a man) in my vicinity could attack me. In an effort to prevent a regular state of imagining horrific events, I just try to stay away from them. This includes movies like “Taken”.
When I’m exposed to violent things, I have nightmares, and I can’t stop my imagination from replaying scenes and expanding on them in more gruesome ways. Sometimes images from a film like that will pop up at unexpected times. I do listen to the news, and sometimes I’ll get nightmares from that, but what can I do?
Perhaps the morbid parts of me have always been their but they are more prevalent since I found an uninvited man in my room, and since my friend was murdered. Other improbable events like my Uncle dyeing in a plane crash, my Grandpa dyeing in an ordinary medical procedure, and my cousin getting hit by a bus have also contributed to an over all feeling that anything can and will happen.
For my 23 years I have been part of a perpetual and reinforcing cycle of blissful imaginings. I worry about how this would play out if I spun too far out into negativity. When I do get into dark moods, they scare me. There is a long history of depression in my family, could I fall into that?
So I prefer not to think about “sad/bad” things. I intentionally separate myself from them to the best of my ability. I keep busy. I get my energy from people. The sadness always escapes and manifests itself in the form of sleeplessness, illness or general emotional neediness, however thus far happiness always prevails.
Being a sassy girl of the world, I get the “watch out for the Boogie-Man” talk a lot. The biggest initiators of these warnings are my many parents are who are in perpetual fear that I’m going to be attacked and or abducted. At least one of my parents also considers it a possibility that I could be brain washed. These fears are genuine and thus I consider the most loving thing for me to do is reassure my parents with smiles, hugs, kisses, and regular contact. If I can pacify their concerns without altering my sense of self then I do.
Despite the recommendations of everyone in my family, one simple act that I am incapable of fulfilling is watching the movie “Taken”. I’ll save my political, feminist arguments about the sexualization of violence against women and the absurdity of violence as entertainment regardless of context for another blog. Thoughts on media aside, I just can’t watch scary or bloody movies.
My imagination is still alive and well. Normally I skip around thinking happy thoughts and making up beautiful things in my head. I credit my general happiness to this habit of perpetually daydreaming. Perhaps my privilege makes it possible for me to go around in a fantasy land. Or perhaps I’m genetically inclined to float around on a sublime cloud. Whatever the case may be, that is how I function.
My imagination has a dark side however. This coincides with other images that pop up at bizarre times. Sometimes I’m walking along on a sunny day humming a song to myself when somewhere from the depths of my mind the idea that someone (usually a man) in my vicinity could attack me. In an effort to prevent a regular state of imagining horrific events, I just try to stay away from them. This includes movies like “Taken”.
When I’m exposed to violent things, I have nightmares, and I can’t stop my imagination from replaying scenes and expanding on them in more gruesome ways. Sometimes images from a film like that will pop up at unexpected times. I do listen to the news, and sometimes I’ll get nightmares from that, but what can I do?
Perhaps the morbid parts of me have always been their but they are more prevalent since I found an uninvited man in my room, and since my friend was murdered. Other improbable events like my Uncle dyeing in a plane crash, my Grandpa dyeing in an ordinary medical procedure, and my cousin getting hit by a bus have also contributed to an over all feeling that anything can and will happen.
For my 23 years I have been part of a perpetual and reinforcing cycle of blissful imaginings. I worry about how this would play out if I spun too far out into negativity. When I do get into dark moods, they scare me. There is a long history of depression in my family, could I fall into that?
So I prefer not to think about “sad/bad” things. I intentionally separate myself from them to the best of my ability. I keep busy. I get my energy from people. The sadness always escapes and manifests itself in the form of sleeplessness, illness or general emotional neediness, however thus far happiness always prevails.
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