Labor: Some Musings

Erin’s contractions are coming faster now; the graph shows the peaks and valley of her body’s work and the baby’s heart rate pounds through them on the monitor, accelerating every once in a while as he apparently rolls around in my sister’s tummy.

Its been a slow start. She checked into the hospital last night, the night before her due date, expecting maybe to have a baby sooner rather than later. Or maybe that was just me.

I feel at a loss right now. This ability of female bodies, of my body, to create and nurture life is one that I’ve always taken for granted. Yes, I took sex ed. I watched every bloody amazing scene of The Miracle of Life. I am familiar with the basic outline of my own fertility. But as I watch Erin breathe slowly through the pain of her labor, I realize how little all of that academic knowledge means. I am one step closer to experiencing that work and those mechanics myself, and yet that last step is a huge chasm of ignorance and doubt and fear. Could I even have a baby? So many women seem to have trouble these days. You hear about it when you’re talking with your girlfriends. So and so are trying, but its been a while. So and so miscarried. So and so and so and so and you realize that this thing that you’ve always assumed your body does naturally without effort is a very effortful thing indeed.

I wonder about how having babies has changed throughout the ages. I’m sure basics are and will always be very much the same. Conceive. Gestate. Contract and relax. Broken water. Pushing, breathing, pain. But that work, I think, isn’t something that can be understood until you do it. I feel very much like an outsider watching Erin breathe through her contractions. I understand the mechanics, yes, and the reality of what those mechanics are is much more real to me now. But Mom will understand the most; and the nurse Suzy, who is so knowledgeable and kind. They are both on the other side of that chasm.

Erin’s face relaxes and she snoozes for a while, at least until another contraction takes hold of her. Right now, she is resting, gathering strength for the labor to come. Labor, I think, in the truest sense of the word.

Update: This post was written on May 1st, 2014. On May 2, after 36 hours of labor, Erin gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Hunter Luke. He is absolutely perfect!

Why I Don't Compete in Lindy Hop Competitions

I love dancing socially and my particular scene, the lindy hop scene, is particularly awesome. I love the music and the movement and the people too. But there's one part of the scene that seems to be gaining importance: competition.

I get why it has become a thing. Competitions validate dancers and motivate them to get better. They can raise the general level of dancing in a scene. Watching amazing dances by amazing dancers can be an inspiring thing. And the prizes are often sa-weeeeeet.

But as the community gets bigger (and I have no doubt that its much bigger now than it was when I first started), more visible, and more connected through youtube and yehoodi, there seems to be a larger emphasis on being seen, rather than enjoying connection.

This whole more people = a greater awareness of appearance has been a theory of mine for a while. I'm probably not the first person to think this (in fact, if anyone knows any cool social theory books on this stuff, I'd love to read it), but I feel like the denser the population, the more invisible individuals become, and the more they try to stand out. This is functional, I think. If you see 200 different people a day, you don't have time to get to know each of them, so you make snap judgments based on their appearance. In a cycle of reinforcement, the more people judge on appearance, the more fastidious people get about their appearance, until appearance is the social cache that can obfuscate other (sometimes more compelling) aspects of people.

These snap judgments can be made anywhere, but in the lindy hop world, it seems like competitions are becoming the authoritative venue for being seen.  In order to "be someone" in the lindy world, you have to compete, to be seen, to win, even though I think there are lots of great dancers out there who don't compete. If you want to be a professional, you teach and you don't get students unless you win. And I don't really like it. There. I said it. I don't like competitions.

There are a couple of different reasons for this. Personally, I don't compete because I don't much like the idea of my dancing being judged on my ability to perform. I don't want to worry about people watching me and I just want to enjoy the connection with my partner and the music. Of course, I know even as I type that that its not completely true. On a certain level, I want people to watch me; the conceit of dressing up in vintage (though I rarely do) and acting out the past means that there's an element to performance to every dance...and what's a performance without an audience? But the idea of folks watching specifically for the purpose of judging me is off-putting. And a good dance with an amazing connection to amazing music can happen just as easily in a living room (especially if you're lucky enough to live with fellow lindy hoppers, like I did for a while) as it can on a competition dance floor. The fact that nobody is there to "judge" an amazing dance doesn't make it any less amazing for the two people doing it. And with the emphasis on being seen, especially in a competative context, maybe that personal part of dancing is getting a little forgotten.

And really, at a certain level, the results are pretty much subjective anyway. It really depends on who's judging. Maybe you've got a real technique hound who is constantly watching for clean swing-outs. Maybe you've got a judge who really looks for musicality and playfulness. Maybe one looks for lines and shapes. There's really no telling what you're going to get. Add to that that maybe the song isn't great for you, or you've never heard it, or (if it's a live band), you get the shitty drum solo, and well, shit. There's a lot out of your control and the results don't necessarily reflect what kind of dancer you are.

And honestly, some of my best "technical" dancing hasn't been very fun. I've had several dances in which the swing outs feel great and the lead leads me through turns and texas tommies like we've been pre-programmed with each other's moves. But the funnest dances are with folks who like to play and who try new things. If it works, great! We have a great "whoa!" moment together...but if it doesn't, well, we end up laughing and shorty georging back to each other. And that's great too. If you're constantly worried about messing up in front of the judges, can you really get into the spirit of innovation?

I know there are some folks, probably a lot of them, actually, who disagree with me. And that's fine. I watch competitions with good humor. When something spectacular happens, its amazing. But for me, dance nirvana will always be a good connection with my partner, playing around with movement to music, and not worrying one bit what someone else thinks about it.

A Fall Morning in Tucson

Its 6:15 and my phone buzzes my alarm. I hit the snooze button and try to go back to sleep. But its no use. Instead of a phone demanding my attention, now there is a kitty.

Jack sharpens his claws on the mattress, jumps up beside me and settles between the gently snoring Tim-mountain and me, but leaning against my side in a warm purry mass. How is it that when cats lay down, they seem to lose their bones? I scratch his ears and his chin and underneath his armpits and he stretches into a long gray shadow next to me. This is our morning routine, Jack and I; he hears my alarm, knows I'm awake and settles in for some snuggling.

But this morning is different. I'm trying to pinpoint how when I realize I'm cold, that Jack's warmth next to me is welcome, rather than an annoyance. I reach my hand above my head to crack the blinds a bit. Rather than a small beam of sunshine, grey pre-dawn light filters onto the bed. Winter is coming, I think...and then immediately chide myself for such a ridiculous thought. Its not even October, and maybe I've been watching too much Game of Thrones.

I'd like to continue lounging with Jack, but its a school day, so I get out of bed and get dressed. Laundry lies in heaps in and around the closet, clean mixed with worn in a jumble. I actually have to turn on the closet light this morning to search for something to wear, something that wasn't necessary two days ago. There's nothing to wear, despite the piles so I head out to the laundry room.

There's a smell in the air when Fall finally comes to Tucson. Its not the smell of dead leaves or of pumpkins or other Fall-y things; it's its own Tucson-Fall smell...maybe its the absence of ambient moisture or the collective smell of the post-monsoonal greenery. It could just the be coolness of the air in my nostrils rather an actual scent, but at any rate, its here this morning. The cement of the garage is actually cold under my bare feet and I find myself thinking about slippers and sweaters, despite the fact that it can't be cooler than 65 degrees. I grab a clean shirt, shake out its wrinkles and head back inside to finish getting ready, thinking "Fall is here...Fall is here!"

I decide to walk to school this fine, first Fall morning, instead of driving. It seems to be a popular choice among Tucsonans today. I imagine the first day of Fall in the desert must feel similar to the first day of spring warmth in places like Minnesota and upstate New York...people are so happy for a change, so delighted that the long wait is over, that even though it could snow the next day, folks still put on their shorts and flip-flops and bask in the newness of Not-Winter. Its like that in Tucson too. Today will probably still be hot. Highs are still in the 90s. And it could even get into the 100s, if Summer decides to put up a fight (it did one year; we had 100 degree heat into November), so instead of a sweater and socks, I've compromised with 3/4 length sleeves and sandals. And a jacket. "A jacket!" I think.

I'm not alone on my walk. My neighborhood is filled with dog-walkers and bike-riders and porch-sitters. Tucson is breathing a collective sigh of relief this morning and I celebrate the turning of the seasons with a trip to Raging Sage. That king of coffee shops has a small patio and it's full. There's a group of older folks who are there as often as I am, a couple who looks like they've just come from Yoga Oasis across the street, a solitary dude writing on a computer. Nobody wants to be inside on the first morning of Fall.

The barristas are ready to pour me an iced Gold Rush, because that's what I've been ordering for the last 6 sweltering months. But today I stop Kristen before she can reach for the plastic cup. "I'll have it hot this morning." I say. She smiles, understanding the joy in my voice. "Yeah, I wore a scarf today!" Such little things: hot tea, a scarf, long(ish) sleeves, a jacket. But for all of us Tusconans, the best part of the year has just arrived.

Two-stepping at the Maverick: Some Observations

1. I had fun. I'll be honest, I don't know if I expected to have fun. I hoped I would, but here it is: Country music is not my favorite thing and I was taking along Tim, who feels the same way about country music as he does about car repairs. So my expectations weren't high. But when I walked into the Maverick and saw all those cowboy hats floating around on the dance floor, with bedazzled jeans flashing around them, I knew that even though this wasn't my scene, it certainly was someone's and those someones were having a great time. It was infectious. Watching people dance and enjoy it is almost as fun as doing it (almost). Add good friends and some Jameson and I can pretty much guarantee I'll have a good time. And I did!

2. Bands don't know how to play for dancers. At least this one didn't. It was a great band in most other respects. They were tight, they had lots of energy and I loved their set list. But a 3-minute guitar solo in the middle of "Mustang Sally" just isn't that great to dance to. And Mustang Sally? Great song, but not a good tempo for two-step (or any other dance, except for West Coast Swing, and can you imagine that? I can't). The DJed music that was playing when we got there was better suited for dancing and I wasn't surprised that when the band got back on the packed dance floor suddenly became a little more spacious. Just a little though. Its clear that the folks at the Maverick will dance to just about anything and have a good time doing it. Which is awesome.

3. Country dancing is a real live dance scene. As in, you just show up and you dance. I found this really refreshing in certain ways and sort of off-putting in others. There's no class to take* and that's kind of cool. Maybe a friend of yours teaches you a basic two-step (forward, forward, back). That's really all you need to get onto the floor. And that might not be all you see on the floor. There are a lot of people out there just moving with their partner and feeling good about it. There's a basic, but you don't need to know it. You just lead or follow and have a good time. Which is awesome. On the other hand, it seems a little harder scene to crack. Because there's not necessarily a common dance (although two-step is definitely king), that means that what you know becomes less important than who you know...and if you don't know many people, well, maybe you won't dance as much. I'm so used to the lindy scene, where if you're new, people will almost always ask you to dance. Also, since the Maverick is primarily a bar, there was a whole bar aspect to the dancing; people were there not just to dance, but also to drink, to socialize, to pick up dates. And that meant if you came attached to someone, you probably weren't going to get asked as often either. Of course, its hard to make generalizations based on one time dancing, so I'm more than happy to be proven wrong!

4. When I go out dancing, its usually to a swing dance. But if I go to a westie dance, I'm not going to drop some lindy and charleston on the floor. If I go to a ballroom, I will restrain my urge to swing at and demurely foxtrot (or sppppppiiiiiiinnnnn in a Viennese waltz! So fun!). But if I go to a country western bar, maybe, just maybe I should try to, you know, country dance. Or whatever else is going on. I certainly don't bring a partner, with whom I will dance exclusively, and then dance a fucking cha-cha-cha. But there was one such a couple last night. Now, I don't begrudge them their fun; after all, how often to you get to ballroom dance outside of a ballroom? But is the Maverick really the place? Also, there was a whole show-offy aspect to their dance that was really out of place. Everyone else was dancing just for the fun....it seemed like these two were dancing to show off. How do I presume to know that? Well, dancing cha-cha-cha to a blues dance doesn't make much sense, does it? I get the showing off thing, and if you hear music and you just want to dance and the only dance you can dance is cha-cha-cha, well, ok, but how about asking someone to teach you a two-step, if you're such hot shit? Ugh. Sorry. I know and love some ballroom dancers, but in this case, ew.

5. If I'm going to go dancing at the Maverick again, I seriously need to invest in some cowboy boots and some daisy dukes. A sparkly belt probably wouldn't hurt either.

6. Next time I go dancing at the Maverick, you should come too!

*well, the Maverick offers dance classes, but they're a series that you really invest in, rather than just showing up to a dance and learning from a lesson before it.

Race and Lindy Hop? Some Incipient Thoughts

One of my favorite swing bloggers, Wandering&Pondering posted this video a couple of weeks ago, along with this status (it was on Facebook):

Andy Reid reminded me of this clip as an example of something that could only happen in New York City. Mama Lu Parks worked in the Savoy Ballroom before they tore it down in the 50's. She made it her mission in life to carry the torch of Lindy Hop during that "wandering the desert" era through the 60's, 70's and early 80's. Her protégés showed up at Yehoodi's 6th Anniversary in 2004 which was also the 100th Birthday of Count Basie, and threw down a performance for the ages. We were trying so hard hard to get that "old school" feel for so many years, and they just threw that out there like it was nothing.

Chances are if Wandering&Pondering posts it, its worth watching. I didn’t know who Mama Lu Parks was, but what the hey, JSalmonte posted it, so I watched it.

I immediately knew what he meant when he described the dancing with “that old school feel.” If you watch enough lindy hop, especially old clips of dancers from the 30s and 40s, you get a sense for how things have changed. Nobody dances quite like those old timers did. Even with all the old original music, all the vintage original clothing, in original ballrooms, something is still different about they way they dance. Of course it is. I liken it to watching Mad Men (which, I’ll admit, I don’t much), which has been praised to the skies for the accuracy of its sets, its costumes, its language, its culture. But nobody watching Mad Men would ever for a moment think it was actual footage from the 60s. There’s still a pretend quality to it, an awareness that no matter how technically perfect the performance, its still just that. Its not history, but the performance of history. I wonder about that sometimes; how we can’t really escape the time and place we’re formed in, no matter how we change the details. We are fundamentally creatures of our own time.

Which made me think about the epoch in which swing was “original.” It was the 30s and 40s, before the Civil Rights movement and integration and all that jazz, and while I’m no expert on race relations, its clear from the footage that survives that there were two very distinct cultures of lindy hop in the 30s and 40s: one white and one black.

(skip to about 1:45 to see the lindy hopping and try to ignore the awful sambo stuff)

They almost don’t look like the same dance, right?

But lindy hop started in Harlem in the 30s, when Harlem was a black community (I think it still is, right?). Then it swept through the nation as a national dance craze. So those white dancers dancing, while they’re original dancers in the grand scope of history, wouldn’t be considered originators of the dance. Like blues and jazz, what was originally a black form of expression was absorbed into the greater (mostly white?) culture of the U.S. And I think its probably fair to say that while lindy hop got absorbed into greater U.S. culture, its black dancers and its white dancers were probably not very integrated. (There were a few exceptions; the Cotton Club The Savoy Ballroom, where Fankie Manning threw the first aerial, was definitely integrated[The Cotton Club, I have been informed, was definitely not.]). So two groups of dancers, one black, one white.

I don’t really know what I can say about that, except as I was watching, I couldn’t help but notice that most of the performers were black, while most of the audience was white.

Its fair to say that today, lindy hop is a predominantly white dance. While there are a few notable exceptions (Steven Mitchell, Ryan Francois, you are amazing), mostly they’re white, affluent kids. If they’re not white, they’re Asian. And they probably learned how to dance at college. For some reason, lots of the guys are engineers of some sort (I’ve never been able to figure that out). So what was once a dance of Harlem is being kept alive by a bunch of nerdy rich kids who like to dress up in vintage clothing. What was once a national phenomenon, danced all over the U.S. (granted, not together, but still pretty ubiquitous), is now a sub-culture of partner dancing danced by a privileged few, who are mostly white, middle to upper class, college educated and (usually) pretty nerdy.

That’s maybe putting it a little harshly. I’m not personally rich and I don’t particularly like to dress up in vintage, but the rest is pretty true. I learned to dance in college. I don’t know what drew me to lindy in the first place; there was the famous Gap commercial, of course, but I don’t remember that playing a huge role in my attraction to swing dancing. I do remember watching old movies with my mom and loving the world I saw there. Men in suits and ties, wearing fedoras; women in jaunty hats and wearing gloves and well-tailored dresses. I loved it. And I loved the music that went along with it. Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong. I know when I heard them sing and play, I wanted, maybe even needed to move. So I found a lesson and started. But there’s no doubt that in terms of race and socio-economics, I was the norm.

I’ve been trying to think about why that might be and what it might mean, especially in the aftermath of Miley Cyrus’s racially and sexually charged VMA performance. I wonder about nostalgia and what it is that actually makes me want to lindy hop. And I wonder if I, as a white woman dancing what was in its inception at least a black dance, share anything with Miley. My intent is obviously different; I lindy because it feels good to do it, because I love camaraderie and the openness of the people who do it, because the music is so joyful that I have to do it. But I wonder, especially now, if I should be a little uncomfortable with what I’m a part of, if I can even have anything meaningful to say about it.

I’ve found writing this to be incredibly difficult because of my unease with the whole subject and because I love dancing so much. I’m still not sure if anything I’ve said makes sense or if its even worth saying, since most of my experience with these issues is incidental and not well researched at all. Maybe once I've put in more time and effort, they'll be more articulate. In the meantime, wanna dance?

Best Things On the Internet: August 2013

The internet is vast and wide and sometime I try to find the end of it. Like any voyage of discovery, the destination is secondary to the journey itself. Here are some of the highlights of my journey:*

*I'm sure some of you have seen a few of these, but who cares? Don't you want to look at them again because they're awesome?!?!

 This guy and his pet turtle. HOW ADORABLE IS THAT?!?!?! And how ingenious!

This commencement speech by George Saunders. Kindness, yes. I remember a similar little girl in my elementary school. She was dirty and underfed and kids teased her mercilessly. I never joined in, but I never helped either. I wonder about her sometimes too. So kindness.

This awesome Daft Punk Dance Party by Stephen Colbert: Because this song is awesome and Stephen Colbert gots moves. Also, HENRY KISSINGER (what?!?!).

This awesome column on the wilds of sex ed in the 60s: Oh my god. This is worth one of your 10 reads a month. I'm not sure the author is right about the validity of the information about sex that teenagers are getting these days (I mean, have you seen the internet?!?!), but still....this is hilarious.

These Peanuts comics with Morrissey lyrics: This is what tumblr was meant for. Taking two things that you never would have thought could/would/should go together and smashing them into something new and awesome! None of you Morrissey fans out there should be surprised (or Peanuts fans, I guess, either) that these are incredibly depressing. And hilarious.

This thread of comments on Gawker: You should probably read the original story about Kelly Clarkson buying up Jane Austin memorabilia. Shenanigans start in the comments when someone (one imeldasnarkos) disparages Ms. Clarkson's choice of first editions. This will really only be funny if you like Jane Austen or like making fun of people who like Jane Austen (read: women; who are we kidding?). I laughed A LOT.

This Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Hamlet book! I actually heard about this project a while ago (I love   Kate Beaton and you should too...she's one of the featured artists), but now that its broken all sorts of crowd-sourcing kickstarter records, its making headlines. The author, Ryan North, promised that the more money he raised, the sweeter the book would be. Now its got three different character paths (Hamlet, Ophelia and Hamlet's Father) and some really really amazing art from really really amazing artists. Even though I didn't contribute to the kickstarter, you can bet your sweet ass I am buying this thing when it comes out! So should you!

This heart-squeezing comic by Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal: Sometimes SMBC makes jokes about math and science that I don't get. And sometimes they do something as lovely as this.

These amazing photos of the March for Freedom and Jobs: Its the 50 anniversary of the March for Freedom and Jobs, at which Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his famous "I Have a Dream Speech." What I love about these photos is that they focus on the people at the march rather than Dr. King and the other organizers. So powerful.

These equally amazing colorized historical photos: My mom got into hand photo tinting a while back and the results were lovely. That was before digital editing was easy or accessible. These folks are doing an amazing job! I don't know what their methods are, but I hope they're color choices are well-researched and as appropriate for the time period as possible. Seriously, though, how cool!?!? If you like these, check out the whole reddit subcategory: http://www.reddit.com/r/ColorizedHistory/

These lovely yet untranslatable words from other languages: My favorite? Komorebi - the sunlight that filters between the leaves of trees.


Stay tuned for next month's installment!

What I Was Thinking As I Watched the ILHC Strictly Invitational Finals

So this weekend is a pretty big weekend for lindy hop. In Arlington, VA, the best of the best get together, along with every other lindy hopper who can get there, and dance their little hearts out at the International Lindy Hop Championship. Its clearly a big time for competitions, and one of my favorites, the one that usually has the hottest dancing is the Strictly Invitational. Dancers enter as couples (as opposed to a Jack and Jill competition, in which dancers enter as leads or follows and their partners are chosen at random), and only those couples who are invited get to dance (duh). Needless to say that only the best get invited. This is almost all unchoreographed, but most of these guys are professional who always dance with the same partner, so clearly, they know each others moves. BUT STILL. Just watch. You will be as amazed as I was.

Here are my thoughts, pretty much as I was thinking them (I only did a couple of edits so that this was legible...."fllow" is not word, nor is AMAZESOUACE, but somehow I typed both). There is some seriously amazing dancing in this video. As usual, I'm not sure who I'm looking at most of the time. But here it is!

Intro: Great song! Diga Diga Doo! Hurray!

ROUND 1.

1. Wow, what fun musicality. Who are these people? I will probably feel really bad when I find out and they're some famous people

2. Skye and Frida! Welp, babies didn't slow her down. DAMN THAT KICK! HURRAY! JUMPING! AND SKIPPING! Frida and Syke, you make me happy

3. ooh, cute dress. A little early for air, don't you think? But nicely executed. I hate it when they break partner. Who are these people too?

4. Is that Todd Yanconne? Ok, everyone is screaming and I'm not sure why. Repeating a move is not that cool

5. Wait, is THAT Todd Yannacone? What the fuck? Double vision. ok, I'm a little bored.

6. ooooooh, nice stockings. AND YAY A STOP! oooh! Nice, love the spinning thingsDAMM! LOVE THESE PEOPLE< WHO ARE THE<?!?!?!?!

AH! ADORABLE TANDEM!

7. NICE!  Cute side by sides stuff, dudes! Again, a little early for air and splits, but whatevs.

8. oh, I like the stopping. AND THE OLD SCHOOL SWIVELS! AND THE STOPPING WITH THE OLD SCHOOL SWIVELS. WHO IS THIS GUY>>!?!?!?

9. Yay Max and Annie!  So athletic! With the stopping and the jumping! Max is such a show off. AND I'm sorry, NOBODY THROWS AIR LIKE THEM. DAMN DUDES!

10. ok, who is Nick Williams dancing with now? I still don't know what the big deal is with him. I'm mean, he's ok.

11. Naomi, you are the follow of my heart. IS THAT TODD YANNACONE AGAIN!? So happy! Love the expresssions. oh, don't break connection! I hate that.

12. Jo and Mikey? hm....like the short shoulder and the little hoppy thing, but they seem like a train almost out of control....

13. oof, tough to be last. I like her spins. Nice kicks too! She reminds me of old school dancers.

ROUND 2

1. ok, I seriously love this couple,. So smooth and happy. A little boring, but still great.

2. O FRIDA YOU ARE SO AMAZSAUCE> AND SKYE

3. sppinys! FUN!....and some crazy acrobatics!

4. whoops! Missed, but still some nice swing outs

5. Todd? eh. round two, not as good.

6.AAAAAAA I LOVE THEM. They must be Euro. OH YES WALK IT OUT!!!

7. RUN! And nice drop! NOW is the time for splits!

8. Man, this guy has some serious moxy. His follow is eh

9. Yup, that is some sic shit.

10. Ok, now I sort of get it. That was a sick toss. and so musical.

11. YES! WITH THE HANDS UP!

12. Jo's hair is very cool when spinning. Ah, the pancake point. very nice

13. ok, way to end strong, dudes.

ALL SKATE:  OMG, SO COOL WHEN THEY ALL SWING OUT. CHILLLZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
FUCK YES. Seriously, that couple in the black KILLED it. KILLED IT. I'm going to have to watch this again.

Miss Button Bumbles Away

This week, one of my best friends left Tucson. Miss Button is living in a new place and a new state and she's going to be gone for a long time. In fact, she and I may never live in the same place again.

It takes a while for these things to become real for me. I know intellectually that she's gone. I know that that outing to SkyBar with a group of her close friends and a Tucson monsoon crackling in the distance was the last such a one for a while (at least until she visits for Christmas). But it just hasn't really sunk in yet that she's gone. In fact, even as I was dropping her off after that last outing, I forgot even to give her hug. Of course she didn't need a hug. Where was she going anyway? (don't worry; she didn't forget she was leaving the next day, and reminded me. She's cool like that. I'm the asshole.)

And she isn't really going away. This friendship was not some fledgling one. Its a fine, stout, hearty friendship, based on shared experiences and shared interests: road trips and trans-Atlantic flights, dancing and singing, learning and teaching, break-ups and hook-ups (ok, not many of those), and all of the other things that make a friend one of the best. So I know we'll keep in touch. I'll make it a priority and I know she will too. I'm excited to go visit her in her new habitat and to hear about all of the amazing things she'll do. 

It took me a while to figure all of that out; that good friends don't really ever go away, even if you do your best to disappear. I have a bad habit of disappearing, and my best friends have always found a way to find me. As I get older, I realize that that's pretty much a bullshit way of being a friend and I'm getting better (I hope) about staying in touch and keeping the people who are really important to me in my life somehow.

But as the realities sink in, I know it won't be the same. I'll just keep my fingers crossed that life plunks us both down somewhere in the vicinity of each other....and in the meantime, well, frequent flyer miles are a beautiful thing.

Bon voyage, mon amie! Bonam fortunam tibi! 

Some Words I Love

As I start teaching again and thinking about language, I realize how much fun English is, with its mish-mash of vocabulary and its awesome ridiculous slang. Don't get me wrong; I loves me some Latin and Greek, but English is my mother tongue and she's got some absolutely awesome words to say.

1. Behoove: Is there any way to sound more pretentiously awesome than to use "behoove" (or behove if you're all into British English)??? I'm teaching impersonal verbs next week and I absolutely cannot wait to use this one (its impersonal in Latin and English...yes!). Though it sounds like something God did to farm animals (...and on the sixth day He made the horses and cows and behooved them), its actual meaning is perfect for teacher usage; in fact, my example sentence? "opportet te facere laborem domi" ("It behooves you to do your homework.")

2. Vermouth: I don't actually know what vermouth tastes like, be it sweet or whatever other kind there is, but whenever I say it, I want to say it again. And again. And even again. Until it feels like I have a lisp and its actually 'vermoose,' which is actually pretty fun to say too.

3. Lithe: There was an ongoing discussion at one point in my life as to how this word should be pronounced. My contention was correct; it should rhyme with blithe. When pronounced correctly, 'lithe' feels and sounds just as nice at its definition.... the long, slender 'i', the soft 'th' at the end...its just a nice word.

4. Fuck: Sorry, Mom. There's just no getting around this one. I love the mother of all cuss words. I know others have waxed poetic on its utility (you really can use it as just about any part of speech), but I really love it for the perfection of its sound. Its so perfect when you're angry and you want to say something really really reeeeeeeeeeally bad. I know maybe its not considered as taboo as it once was (overuse does that, and I'm just as guilty of overusing 'fuck' as the next person), but still, is just such a satisfying word to say.

5. Bright: Rainbow Bright. Light Bright. Bright kids. Bright ideas. Bright Lights, Big City. Star light, star bright. Its just such a happy word, but also a just a little dark. In Touch of Blue, the main character is blind and her favorite word is bright because it represents everything good in the world. That's why I love it too.

6. Whence: I always have to fight the urge to put a "from" in front of "whence." That's the beauty of it. It literally means "from where," and we're not efficient enough language users to remember that! English is a preposition-heavy language, especially in place of adverbs, but "whence," besides sounding totally awesomely archaic and educated, is a complete little adverb all on its own. Also, when you pronounce the 'h', "whence" sounds like unicorn manes blowing in the sweet breeze made by the breath of butterflies.

7. Dongle: I'm pretty sure a 15-year-old boy made this up. Or at least someone with the sense of humor of a 15-year-old boy. The vague resemblance to a slang term for male genitalia can't be coincidence. And every time I hear it, I giggle...hell, every time I say it, too. And yet, millions of people every day say "dongle" completely seriously, without any trace of amusement. Seriously, tech people, how do you do it??

8. Doing: Say it a lot. Like 20 times in a row. It sounds awesome!

9. Verboten: Technically, this isn't an English word, but English is such a mongrel language anyway, I don't think it matters if I throw in a German word popularly used in American vernacular. Somehow, "verboten" is stronger than "forbidden", as though the entire formidable strength of the German people were behind it. It also starts with that voiced "v" which is ever so much more vibrant than the silly 'f' of forbidden. Shout it sometime. You'll feel powerful.

Yup, words are awesome.

Back to School?

I'm back at school again, and while I shall refrain from mentioning the particular institution at which I work, I will say, its back to prayers and uniforms and lots and lots of iphones.

I hadn't really expected to be back here this year. I had made the difficult decision that I wasn't really cut out for teaching high school and was going to pursue something else. I wasn't sure what; there was an ocean of time ahead of me in May, in which I could contemplate for what and where life had fitted me. I was nervously looking forward to it too. I had ideas (GIS, programming, other techy things), but no hard plans. I just knew that teaching wasn't it.

The kids were disappointed, for the most part (I'm sure there were a couple who were glad to hear I wouldn't be back), but understood...or at least understood as well as any teenager can why I didn't want to do something I didn't love every single day. Actually, they probably understood that better than a lot of people, having been shoved into a desk for hours every day and told to listen. And they knew it wasn't really about them, surprisingly enough. Teenagers, I have learned, know when you're heart's not in it. They have a keen sense of genuine-ness (for lack of a better word). My kids knew that I'd much rather just chat about what was going on in the world and what they thought about it than buckle down and be some grammarian task master. They preferred that too (of course they did!).

We kept the kids involved in the selection process for my replacement. There were a couple of applicants. There was even a demo lesson. But nobody seemed right. My colleague and friend begged me to stay...just one more year, Lauren. One more year. Nope, not one more year, if it meant part-time at something I didn't really reeeeeeeally want to do.

But then, the second to last week of school, the Human Resources manager emailed me. Would I be willing to supervise two Quiet Study periods? The pay wasn't very good, she said, but it kept me on campus the requisite 5 class periods that would make me eligible for benefits. After teaching at the local community college, the pay didn't surprise me; it was low. But all that was being asked of me for those two extra periods was to supervise kids as they did their homework. Just keep an eye on them in study hall. And for that, I would suddenly become eligible for amazing health and retirement benefits.

So here I am again. The first week of school is now over and my feelings are mixed. I'm happy to be around the kids again; they keep you young with their exuberance and excitement. Its easier than years past in certain ways, too: my lessons are already made. I have two free periods to plan and prepare for the next day's classes. I know more of the kids.

But its difficult to go back on a decision. To get back into the something I didn't think I'd be doing. To find the energy to be excited about teaching again. To fake it. Some of the kids will know that I'm faking it too, and that makes it just a little harder.

The silver lining? I can stop worrying about doctor's visits and car accidents. I can save up some money for the all those ideas I have. And in the grand scheme of things, one more year isn't so long.

Is it May yet?

A Friendly Farewell

A friend is leaving tomorrow. Not a close friend and not someone I've known long. In fact, its only been a month since I met the guy. But he's one of those people that just fit into one of my worlds seamlessly.

My Hut World has been filled with so many people. Its a crossroads for many of us: a place to stop and gather one's breath before heading out into the wider world of one's ambitions. For some of us, me included, its been a sanctuary as well, somewhere we can always come back to when times are hard and that wider world has been cruel. There are a few permanent fixtures (myself included here too) as well, the defining personnel, without whom the Hut would be fundamentally changed.

This friend is one of the first category. He showed up a month ago, fresh from a long road trip around the country, and not really sure of where the world was taking him. Despite that, he felt comfortable immediately.  He was good at the retail grind; he did his job well; he learned quickly. But besides that, he had rapport with almost all of us. There were parties and nights out and lots of interesting discussions about Hume and blues and Point Break. It was a good fit.

But he wasn't a close friend at least comparatively speaking. There just wasn't time. I wish there had been, though. Because even if he wasn't, there are certain people you meet who don't need a lot of time, who you immediately think when you meet "We are going to get along swimmingly!"

In the age that we live in, I'm sure we'll keep in touch. Facebook and Twitter and email and cell phones all mean we can communicate pretty easily. But the personal bonds we make are still the most important, and it doesn't matter how much potential friendship one feels with someone else, it takes time to form those personal bonds. So today I'm sad a little. Not because I'm losing a close friend. I'm not. I'm losing the potential for a great friend, a fledgling relationship that is something much more fragile, something so much more susceptible to the demands of distance and time.

I wish him well, of course, and will try to keep in touch as best I can.