You know, I really think communal living is the way to go. Matt suggested that last night – we both achingly feel the distance separating us from the Champaign kids – he suggested that the bunch of us should all live together somewhere and open a school and teach all the wonderful and obscure things that we know. And really, that sounds pretty ideal, doesn’t it?
Add comment August 21st, 2003
Hey, remember when I said I wasn’t going to blog for a while? Yeah, that was funny.
Kate has decided that we need to teach “how to get a job in your field” courses cos really, that’s much more practical than a lot of the stuff you take at college. I thought the fact that neither of us have jobs in our field might be a problem, but Kate doesn’t think so. I’m going to trust her on this one.
20 minutes til I can get out of this basement. Came to the realization that I live an almost entirely subterranean life. That sucks. I work in a basement, escape outdoors for a little bit, then go home and spend most evenings in the basement with N. Hmm, no wonder I’m depressed. My body is probably screaming for sunlight! Perhaps I will have to remedy that with some quality porch sitting tonight.
Going to the library to pick up Galatea 2.2 cos I’m wicked in love with Richard Powers. Oh yeah, and just what I need is more reading material. I am brazenly disregarding my ban on the library. I don’t care. I will make time.
Add comment August 20th, 2003
Some things crystallized while talking to Sarah this morning – what I’d like to call “The Philosophy of E.” I’ve spent a lot of time thinking these days – these two weeks off work – all the hours of the sleepless nights, the time spent alone, the time spending in longing and reading and inquiry. I guess my worldview at this point boils down to two basic tenets:
1. We’re here for such a brief time – our lives are so tenuous – why the fuck not do the things that bring joy?
2. No matter the decisions you make, no matter the course your life takes, that is the way it was meant to be and it couldn’t be any other way.
The first one is pretty self explanatory – our lives are so short; why waste time doing things that don’t make you happy? Or that don’t keep you happy? Obviously we all have to do things that suck – bills have to be paid, toilets have to be cleaned – but those are necessary evils on the path to what brings joy, what brings meaning. The second is a bit more complicated.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I believe in both predestination and free will. I believe – I know – that the choices we make in life determine who we are. I also know that who we are is determined by all sorts of factors we can’t control – our parents, our upbringing, our fragile bodies, our “natural selection” or predilections. And if the last two weeks have taught me anything, it’s that worrying about how life might be different had certain choices been different is a futile thing. It will drive you mad. Things are the way they are for a reason. I firmly believe that. The choices we make might not make sense – they might be difficult and intensely painful – but they are made for a reason. I don’t know what that reason is – I think we don’t know a lot of the time, which is why life is so precious, so enigmatic, so full of doubt and questioning and joy.
We are here – in life, on this Earth – for a reason – for some brief, undetermined amount of time – and then we’re gone. I don’t know why we’re here. I don’t know the meaning or the measure of my life. All I know is that I want my life to have meaning. I want joy. I want peace. I want the peaks of ecstasy and the depths of despair – and have had both in these two weeks. I want life at its fullest, its richest, its most powerful. And I know – in my heart, in my soul, in the fundamental parts of me that I can trust beyond my reason or my intellect – that I will have these things, that I am in the process of having these things. And it can’t be any different. I may not understand the path I have chosen – but I know it is the only place I could be. And if things are meant to be different, they will be. I have firm confidence in that.
In The Hours, Clarissa relates a story about her youth, how she walked out one day and thought “This is the beginning of happiness.” In her middle age, relating the story to her daughter, she realized that it wasn’t the beginning of happiness, it was happiness. I think that is at the heart of what I’m thinking and feeling and trying to express – that awareness of purpose, of happiness – of celebrating the moment without over-thinking or worrying about how it could or might or should be different. I think just being is enough.
Add comment August 17th, 2003
Another night of crazy not-sleep. Went to bed at 12, was awake again by 1:30, took the meds at 2:30, finally slept around 6, up at 8. My body and my psyche must be repairing because I’m not feeling the adverse effects as violently as before. Talked to Sarah for an hour or so this morning – I’m going to miss these convos when I go back to work (yes, Monday’s the day) and she starts teaching. We’ll have to figure something out. I feel closer to her right now than I have in a long time – no, that’s not true. There have been times when our closeness has waned and grown – but I guess I feel a part of her day to day life again, and that’s huge for me. I miss her living next door.
Amanda is finally going to be able to do her student teaching in the fall. This is HUGE! It’s going to mean some big big changes for her – but it will be such a good thing. I know she’s scared – it’s a huge transition from the life she’s been leading – but dude, if you’re reading this, I swear to you that you’ll still have fun, even if it requires me driving to Oak Park to do some performance art.
Am planning on posting a mini tour of the house this afternoon, once I’ve had a chance to play with the photos a bit. I bummed the digital cam off Mom – planning on keeping it through next weekend’s housewarming party – so look for lots of bandwidth-sucking in the next few posts.
Hey, Nostradamus! is fitting in nicely with the rest of my reading – after reading about time and education, now a book about faith. It is exhausting at times – and frustrating – but definitely worth the read and probably an immediate reread. I’m going to miss these mornings of idleness, spent on the couch with a good book.
Talked to Shawn a couple of times yesterday, which was good. I’m really looking forward to seeing him next weekend.
Off to find some lunch and maybe get some work done on the piles. It’s so nice to be able to see some of the floor – I can’t wait til I can see all of it and have a living room with enough empty space for ballroom dancing.
Add comment August 16th, 2003
Dear Friends,
I’m not going to say that I’m back – I’m far from it – but I am here and I’m reading your comments and your emails and am touched by your love, your concern – many of you for someone you’ve never met.
I don’t quite have the words for the last week yet – longing and frustration, hurt and joy, fear and blessings, words and silence. A lot of living has happened in a small space. If I have the energy and strength I will write it all – or all that needs to be known. Some things must be kept for me.
Much love. Do not fear that I’ll be gone for long. I love you all – and writing here – too much.
E
Add comment August 8th, 2003
I think I may stop blogging for awhile, at least here. It’s too much – there’s too much – and I need quiet. I’m sorry. I know this, like all of my other not-blogging resolutions, will probably last about an hour or (at most) a day. I just – there isn’t space inside my head at the moment. If you want to talk, drop me a line.
Add comment August 3rd, 2003
I dare you to listen to the song “Hum Along” and NOT fall in love.
On second thought, I think I’d like to keep this for me.
Add comment August 2nd, 2003
“Tomorrow, Tomorrow”
I remember the cities I have never seen
exactly. Silver-veined Venice, Leningrad
with its toffee-twisted minarets. Paris. Soon
the Impressionists will be making sunshing out of shade
Oh! and the uncoiling cobra alleys of Hyderabad.
To have loved one horizon is insularity;
it blindfolds vision, it narrows experience.
The spirit is willing, but the mind is dirty.
The flesh wastes itself under crumb-sprinkled linens,
widening the Weltanschauung with magazines.
A world’s outside the door, but how upsetting
to stand by your bags on a cold step as dawn
roses the brickwork and before you start regretting,
your taxi’s coming with one beep of its horn,
sidling to the curb like a hears – so you get in
— Derek Walcott
“The Composer”
All the others translate: the painter sketches
A visible world to love or reject;
Rummaging into his living, the poet fetches
The images out that hurt and connect,
From Life to Art by painstaking adaption,
Relying on us to cover the rift;
Only your notes are pure contraption,
Only your song is an absolute gift.
Pour out your presence, a delight cascading
The falls of the knee and the weirs of the spine;
Our climate of silence and doubt invading;
You alone, alone, imaginary song,
Are unable to say an existence is wrong,
And pour out your forgiveness like a wine.
—W H Auden
Add comment August 2nd, 2003
I’m really hoping this weekend is boring. I hope that’s not too much to ask. After the last couple of weeks, I think I deserve a day or two off.
We’re fully out of the apt. It was really anticlimactic – I cleaned the one spot Mark mentioned, I asked if he needed me to do anything else, we talked about the deposit – and that was it. Again, hard to leave a place where one has been happy, even if you’re going somewhere better. It was just a flood of memories as we walked down the stairs and out the door – made even more poignant because I know I won’t be going back to that place. When we moved out of 130 we knew that Jen was moving in, so the actual flood of emotion was delayed a bit. She’s moving out in a couple of weeks – so I’ll have to say my goodbyes again, but a year’s distance separates me from all of that, so I think I’ll be OK. Memory is a really strange thing.
Our fridge arrived yesterday morning. Jen, dedicated porch monkey that she is, camped out at the house until it arrived, then sent me a series of very funny emails regarding her porch monkey duties. God, I love my sister.
But of course not everything could go smoothly. We had to have N’s junky Jeep towed – and as soon as we started for the house, it started pouring. Nate got to the house with the towing company, only to find that we had no power. On top of that, all of our windows were open. I left my car running in the alley, took Nate’s car around front, then tore through the house – soaking wet – closing windows. The trip from the back door to the garage was enough to soak me to the skin. We got the car taken care of, then had to mop up the house. Fortunately the only things that really got wet were a couple of blankets and one book – it could’ve been much much worse. I think the most frustrating thing was the lack of power – our neighbors on all sides had power, just not us. Oh well. It’s amazing how patient you become about these things after going without power for days at a time.
Sleep update: I actually slept soundly last night! Hooray! Maybe the temptation of the interweb has more to do with my sleepless nights than I thought. Or maybe reading about Kant was enough to do me in…
Add comment August 1st, 2003
Subject #2 – Jen
Year of introduction – 1984
Fact of Some Note – I was the only one who thought Jen would be a girl.
I met Jen in 1984. I really can’t tell you much about our introduction – I just remember being at the house with Grandma and Mark while Mom was at the hospital. I don’t know if we were allowed to go see her, being four and three, respectively. Our relationship has changed significantly over the last 19 years – especially in the last two or three years. When we were small we didn’t get along at all – and Mark and I were terrible about teasing her. As adults (or what passes for adults), we’ve grown really close and our relationship is the envy of many.
A few choice Jen anecdotes:
When Jen was four, she really, really, really wanted a blue puppy. I don’t know if anyone had told her that dogs don’t normally come in blue. About 12 years later I finally gave her a blue dog.
During her senior year, Jen was up for “Clip of the Day” on one of our local TV station’s evening show. My coworkers and I spent the entire day clicking on the link to vote for her volleyball prowess. The prize? A six foot party sub, which she never got.
Jen and I were there when our brother Eric was born. Apparently my dad thought that having us girls there for the “miracle of birth” would persuade us never to have sex. It didn’t work.
After she quit prom and graduated from high school, Jen came to work with me. A few months later, she moved into our old apartment when we moved to a new place. So, for almost a year, we were coworkers and neighbors, as well as sisters and friends. People at our workplace begged to be included in our family.
Some things I love about her:
She has been loyal and supportive of me, even if she doesn’t always understand my actions.
We can be totally silly together, yet still sit up all night talking about the things that matter.
She is a super divalicious fashion consultant.
She misguidedly loves Orlando Bloom, even though he looks like a bunny.
She is the best porch monkey and sister anyone could ask for.
Add comment August 1st, 2003