And Baby Makes Crazy

This morning I had a blog topic all ready to go, AND I even figured out a way to seemlessly transition into the fact that Jack can carry around an extra four pounds of urine in his diaper every morning without caring, thus leading me to the conclusion that there just might be the chance that he'll be the first kindergartener ever who isn't potty trained.

But, after dealing with cat carriers approved for the flight, city hall phone trees to find out about permits for our moving containers, not to mention the ongoing flaky folks emailing about how they actually aren't going to come by this morning to pick up that piece of furniture we're selling despite the fact that I neglected my weighted-down-with-urine preschooler to clean our kitchen, I have *surprisingly* forgotten what was no doubt a BRILLIANT post.

Last night Ed mentioned that we should have a second kid. To be clear, the mere suggestion of getting pregnant for me is akin to a heroine addict being told there's a secret stash of dope in the back room. Don't tell me unless you mean it. My darwinian forces are stronger than logic. Maybe it's habit; seems we can't just do ONE stressful thing in our lives; we always need to mix it up a bit. New job? Bah- been doing that for the last four years. New home in a new city? PA-Lease. Ed will be writing his dissertation this next year, so that's new. But, just for fun, why NOT get pregnant? And Ed was thinking all this despite the fact that he'd just talked with our friends last night who admited to being a bit "jaded" with the two-kid parent life.

My sister is also feeling the urge to produce another offspring. And while both her an my mom would no doubt pray for my very soul at the thought that the urges are anyway related to the biological need to evolve the species forward, something is in the air. I need to remember the 6-month long nausea, the exhaustion (that didn't go away), and the fact that we're rocking Jack's world quite enough as it is.

It will be interesting to see what we decide. In the meantime, thinking about bringing another life into the world is a relatively less stressful way to pass the time than all the ENDLESS stuff associated with moving across the country.

Really Bad Punning for Good Reason

Anthony Bourdain's show is on. Bourdain is one of our favorite authors. (He started as a chef, but we've never ate at his restaurant, only read his books on food.) No Reservations is his series about visiting various cities all over the world in search of the perfect, authentic meal. He's one of the reasons I'm going to incorporate an entire unit on food in my classroom.

Tonight's show is a repeat; he's in Seattle.

Which is where we'll be in less than a month. And, hopefully before August is over, sitting in Safeco field introducing Jack to the Mariners.

South Seattle CC offered me the job. I took it of course, with no reservations (ha).

Now the moving fun begins. I don't mind.

Future Orientated

Okay, we've spent the better part of the last two years honing our mental skills to live in the moment. This week we are giving that up. There's too much about to happen (or not) in the near future. Harry Potter may or may not die and I may or may not get a job in Seattle. Flew back last night from a good interview. Picked up "HP and the Deathly Hallows" today. Can't do much else except hurry up and read the book to NOT think about whether or not I get the job, and can't do much (needed) work for my online course until I know the outcome of both plots- fantasy and "real."

Though I must admit, three years ago it felt like a fantasy to imagine that Ed & I would land faculty jobs IN the Northwest, let alone Seattle.

Here's hoping for a little magic...

Years from now, when I stumble upon these pictures, they will take me right back to summer 2007 in Boston

That's Jack, with Colleen in the middle and Shannon on the right. They're two of the three girls from upstairs.

3 Years Old

July is like a day at full day at a spa: indulgent and luxurious. We get everything all at once: sun, beaches, 4th of July, Jack's birthday, plus we're right smack in the middle of summer break so the regular school year is far, far away. Seems unfair that July has so much goodness stacked in it, but it's kind of like having the absolute best 5 course meal after a day of not eating: that much sweeter.

Jack turned 3 today. The day started and ended in what I'm beginning to think is typical 3-year old behavior. Jack started by telling us he didn't want to do something because, by the way, he was still 2, not 3. At bedtime, he got off his bed, walked over to me in the doorway and sat down, looking at me like he wasn't budging. BUT, in between all that, it was a great day. We had breakfast at Zaftigs delicatessen in Brookline (which was really all about me since I haven't had any good coffee in four days since breaking my THIRD french press), then three playgrounds in one where even the promise of a new tricyle from Toys R Us couldn't get Jack away. Jack opened up presents throughout the day, the girls from upstairs came down to play (to engage in the age-old battle of sharing new toys), and Ed drove across town for some good pizza. Jack avoided a nap for the seventh day in a row (he got up after 40 minutes, looked at me and plainly declared that he wasn't sleepy; okay-I get it).

We also had cake. Jack requested Ice Cream cake, which Ed & I tried to make last night, but which didn't freeze fast enough, so we woke up this morning to a blob of yellow cake and chocolate chip ice cream that looked a bit like the before pictures form one of TLC's stomach stapling shows. So, Ed went to the store and dropped $30 on an icecream cake that looked normal. See for yourself. While both taste great, I couldn't print out pictures of the blobby one.

I did coax Jack back to bed by bringing in the last present I forgot to have him open. It had Fantasia DVD as well as the book version of his favorite Backyardigan's episode: Race to The Tower of Power. Uncle Steve got him the DVD at Christmas and that is the episode Jack ALWAYS wants to watch. It's your basic superhereos versus supervillans, but the song and dance is this hilarious latin, shake your hips, move your booty genre. I read it to Jack, who was so enthralled, he barely moved (which never happens). He was exhausted, but after I left, I looked back where he had turned on his flashlight to pour over his book.

I love 3.

New Camera & Fireworks

We're on our third digital camera. Third. My mom got us one a few years back that we think Jack dropped; my dad got us one last year that stopped working over Christmas. So, I broke down and instead of spending money we don't have on a massage, I spend that money on a yet another camera. It's nice- a simpler version of the Canon PowerShots we've had, but it does the job (record memories).

The camera came Tuesday, July 3. Which is great because that's the night we went and saw July 4th fireworks. Because Boston has one of the biggest firework shows in the nation where literally 1/2 million people attend (where I can imagine much personal space is violated), surrounding towns have their own separate celebrations on days other than the 4th so as not to compete and give the agoraphobes a chance to enjoy the holiday. So, pretty much all this week you can catch some pyro-tech show in the Boston area. And while I would have liked to see the "BIG" show, I was quite happy to see the one we did. As was Ed. And, Jack enjoyed the show, too, although about half way through (fifteen minutes in), he turned to me and said, "Do the fireworks ever stop?"

The pictures above are from Tuesday and Wednesday. On July 3rd we hung out at Memorial Park in Needham, ate snowcones and waited for fireworks. The first one is from the 4th, which was dedicated to slow-cooked pork butt and resting. And, realizing that somehow the Northeast and Northwest weather patterns got mixed up (Seattle was a sunny, 85 degree day while we hit mid-60s and rain). All in all, a very pleasant holiday.

I hate jet-leg. I'm normally immune to its effects. I flew a red-eye flight back from Seattle and so I spent all day yesterday in a jet-lagged induced fog - two days kind of swirled together into one big mix of semi-consciousness.

The weekend was fun. Got in Thursday night and Steve picked me up from the airport. We had coordinated the pick up time so Steve was able to just drive up and pick me up. Last time Steve picked me up from the airport we had got our wires crossed - Arrivals and departures are on two different levels at Sea-Tac. I got confused - I was "departing" the airport, so I waited at the Departures terminal for Steve to pick me up. Twenty minutes I got a call from Steve, "dude," he said, "you've arrived. You're not departing..."

Sometimes I'm not bright.

Friday - played nine holes of golf with Steve and Elijah. Good times. Elijah is only 11, but made it through 9 holes of golf. Truth is, at 11, I would not have the patience to play nine holes of golf. Picked up the tuxedos for the wedding - Steve and Leslie went with brown and green for wedding colors, which, I admit, I thought was suspect. But really, the colors worked.

Yes, I really did just type, "the colors worked."

Wow....

Rehearsal dinner time - must have been like "Worlds Collide" for Steve. Went off pretty good. I normally hate these kind of functions which require small-talk and polite smiles, but everyone was nice and down to Earth.

Saturday - W-day for Steve. Had breakfast at the Spar - which was good, good. Breakfast came with real hashbrowns - you know, the grated, fried potatoes. We can't find hashbrowns out East to save our lives (what is the idea behind home fries for breakfast anyway?)

Drove out to the wedding site by 1pm. Watching Steve get nervous reminded me of my wedding day 10 years before and how nervous I felt. What are we nervous about really? Everything's pretty much on autopilot by that time. Ah well. Nice ceremony. Leslie and Steve looked great. The reception was fun.

And I didn't screw up my toast (my duty as best-man). But I was nervous - yes, this coming from the guy that teaches and talks in front of people a lot - I was nervous. I wanted to do a good job for my brother. I felt better when the Maid of Honor told me she hadn't prepared anything - not that the toasts are a contest or anything. Still, when you're up there, in front of everyone, you realize there's no way to screw this up as long as what you say is honest. A few people came up to me afterwards and said they liked what I had say - always good for the ego.

I missed Laura and Jack. They would've loved seeing everyone.

Sunday - Went back to the Spar for breakfast (c'mon, they got hashbrowns!) I bought Lisa breakfast as a thank-you for letting me crash at her place. Lisa is a creature of habit and routine, so I know having others crash her place, use her computer, lay around and watch the TV, wasn't easy. She's a trooper.

I got to catch up with my friend Jay during the afternoon. Always good times with Jay. He drove out to Boston with me in 2005 and we had a few laughs at our (mis)adventure that summer road-trip.

Had dinner with the family back at Steve and Leslie's place before Steve took me to the airport. The weekend had been a flash.

Potty Training, Marriage Symbols, and Boston Cook Outs

It's Ed's turn this month to be in the Northwest. His brother, Steve, is getting married-actually *just* said his vows about an hour ago. Ed's probably about to give his best man speech -- I wonder if he drank a few rum and cokes to ease into the speech-making (like the three gin and tonics I drank before my speech at Nicole's wedding earlier this month). At any rate, I hope Steve, his new bride, Leslie, and my tried-and-true groom, are currently enjoying some good food and good tunes.

My day was eventful, but not like a wedding. Jack wore underwear ALL DAY (I say again: no diapers) and masterfully held both Pee and Poop pretty much all day (I capitalize those words because of their pronoun status in the household today). Other than an accident (pee) outside, he managed to sit on the pot a total of about 10 times and let all but a few drops out. Amazing. I think the diaper I put on him for bed is chock full. He told me right after an overtired tantrum, and right before crashing, that tomorrow he wanted to wear his diaper again. I went online and took some quiz and realized that the kid probably isn't quite ready yet. Our landlords hosted a "cook out" (that's Hub slang for "BBQ") and Jack and I, in good crashing form, joined them. I made mental note that returning to the Northwest means having BBQs with family and friends, rather than dropping in on the nearest family gathering to suck whatever laid back family love and vibes we are missing, particulalry when most of Ed's family is celebrating the ultimate cookout at Steve and Leslie's wedding.

Speaking of marriages, which, are honestly, as far from a wedding in definition that you can get (besides maybe potty-training of course), I haven't worn my wedding ring in a few weeks. I've never had it off this long and even the indendation of 10+ years of wear is barely recognizable. Our wedding vows are still in tact and the marriage still strong, but after reading a link to an article from one of my new favorite blogs, Shesabetty.com, I looked down at the ring that I've never liked (the engagement part is fine- it's the band, which took all of about 30 seconds to agree to when designing with a Tacoma jewelwer because I had much more interesting things to do like read Willa Cather and Virginia Woolf for my senior seminar classes) and realized I wasn't going to wear something that represented many more shameful ideals than those to hold in esteem. The top of which is not the branding element (or the blatantly pornographic sexual representation, both which are bad enough), but the fact that I just don't like the thing. So, I'm now on the look out for a new wedding band; something inexpensive but local (wherever local may be) and one that I'm hoping Ed & I can find together. It might take years to find, which is quite fine; I don't know any marriage that was held together by a symbol. Besides, I always felt like I was wearing the ring for other people- and people I didn't know. Because, if you know me or Ed, you know we're married. So, really, the ring was to let people who meant nothing to me know that I was a spouse. Which, seems quite pessimistic, if you think about it. Funny, though, that I still want one. I might be a hypocrite. Or, just a slave to blind culture. One seems to be the definition of the other.

God, I hope Ed's speech wasn't anything like my ramblings here. I'm pee-pee weary. And, ready to shed my early-20s notion of marriage with the one I'm coming to know in my 30s. Which is indefineable --or in the least needs a new symbol. A more honest, hard-earned, soil rich one.

This is what I think about when I don't have class to plan for

I fall into that category of people who tend not to label themselves religious, but rather "spiritual" because religion has too close a connotation to dogma, which by the way, is the name of a fabulous movie by Kevin Smith. In that movie, Chris Rock plays the roll of the 13th disciple who has a great mini-speech about how everything got fucked up by religion, how Jesus is generally pissed off about what gets carried out in his name (wars, persecution, misogyny, injustice, to name a few) under the guise of religious doctrine. Rock asks why can't we just have a "good idea" about something- which implies openmindedness, which, really, is a common value of many of the ongoing religions worldwide, if we look close enough.

But enough spewing about all what my mother calls my 'anger management' issues with religion (fair enough). Truth is, I'm quite faithful and have a strong idea that something akin to the Holy Spirit, Divine Inspiration, or something along those lines breathes through the current of our lives. Bottom line, how else could I explain the fact that so much has worked out for us? That's not to say that there's so much that HASN'T worked out for the majority of the people in the world, and while I'm still agonizing over that, I can't ignore the FACT that when we had NO IDEA how we would move through the coming days, weeks, or months, things did work out. OF COURSE, we didn't just sit back and let it all work itself out; like prayer, we put our two cents in and hoped we we doing/saying the right thing.

I'm not one of these people who can spout of Bible verses verbatim, but there's some probably over-used one that I have been thinking about. Apparently, the Bible reminds us that the sparrow (or any bird for that matter) doesn't look too far ahead and worry. They wake up, do their good work with what they have and the knowledge of their life up to that point, and have no choice but to do otherwise. As humans in the United States with resources that easily lends itself to overconsumption and obesity, we tend to have the opposite problem -- too much security, or better yet, too much of a sense of what may or may not be true security. (To be clear, by "we" I mean the middle-class and higher).

Last night Ed, Jack, and I visited the home of a family who is willing to sublet their condo to us for a very reasonable price the first two weeks in August. We met them through one of Ed's co-horts at BU whose husband plays for the Boston Symphony. What are the odds that Ed would
meet someone from Germany whose husband is best friends with a Romanian who just happens to live in Boston but works in Western Mass in August? They are a lovely family-open warm and generous (even if they aren't leaving their $2000 espresso machine for us). Only two days ago we really weren't sure how to navigate the month of August. Do we put all our eggs in one basket and just buy plane tickets for Seattle, thinking that I'll get the job? Or, do we play it safe and try to live here at least through mid-August in order to have the space to buy not-too-overpriced plane tickets OR look for a new place in Boston? So much of that decision came clear last night when we knew we could live here for two weeks and not pay a full month's rent.

There is still a lot in the air-for example, just how quickly I'll know either way whether or not South Seattle will hire me, how quickly we can sell my Honda to cover the moving expenses in case they do- but YET AGAIN, a piece of the future puzzle fell together wonderfully. The evidence of faith in SOMETHING shines again.

Jack and I are headed to Hull where our friends are adjusting to their new one-week-old baby. And, tomorrow Ed heads to Seattle to celebrate his brother's wedding. It's a weekend of blessings. I should plan for my online class that starts in two weeks, but I can do that next week.

Peace.

Whirlwind

My mom gave Jack some Disney DVDs for Christmas. The first few months he watched old Chip-n-Dale cartoons, but lately he's been a fan of old Mickey Mouse cartoons. His favorite is "The Little Whirlwind" where Mickey's attempts to win Minnie Mouse's favor is thwrarted by a small yet cleverly annoying tornado. This cartoon is a very early Disney cartoon where the leaves get up and march reminiscent to the broomsticks in Fantasia. While I have many issues with the Disneyfication of America, I grew up on early Disney and don't mind that Jack likes the cartoons- particularly because he's more interested in acting out the cartoon (blankie is the notorious whirlwind) about 10 times for every 1 time he watches the show.

Whirlwind is the best way to describe this summer. And, the last two years in Boston. If I ever stay at the same job for more than a year AND live in the same place at THE SAME TIME I'm living in the same place, I'm not sure what I will do with all that time on my hands.

The community college I interviewed with back in early June (well, it was really only two weeks ago, but waiting time is like dog years) is flying me back for a second interview mid-July. They called Monday and since then we've been trying to figure out the logistics of our pending move. We need to move out of this place by the end of July, but because I won't know until just about then WHAT TOWN we'll be moving to, we're not sure how to navigate. The current plan is to find a place to sublet for the first one or two weeks in August so that once we know if I got the job, we can look for a place in Seattle, buy plane tickets for me & Jack, and Ed's brother, Steve, can head out for the long drive back. If I didn't get the job, we'll have those two weeks to find a place here in Boston.

If I did live in Disneyworld and needed to make a wish on a star, it would not necessarily be that I got the job in Seattle, but that what I wanted was absolutely clear. The last two years has taught me to take in life and make it what I need it to be -- not wait to be happy based on outside events. The strange side-effect is a dulled sense of what external events would make me most happy. I've become accustomed to Pollyanna-ing everything (freelance: GREAT- more time at home even if I don't know when/what the next job will be or how much it will pay; teach fulltime: EVEN BETTER: get paid more for teaching than I ever have even if the load is 5 classes at a time and I work at one of the most dysfunctional places that exists). So much so that the idea of moving back is a careful low rumble of relief. When the thunderstorms strike (as they have the last two days), I revel in the extreme weather knowing the grey humdrum of the Northwest might be replacing New England fall colors. July will be hot and humid. I won't revel in the hazy heat, but I bet I'll have more patience for everyone's sticky skin.

The Waiting Game

I should hear in the next day or so if I got a second interview with South Seattle CC. If I do get the interview, there's a strong chance I'll get the job and we'll move to Seattle in August. We've got our potential new landlords on hold, hoping that they'll put up with our waiting and hold the place just in case I don't get the job and we stay in Boston for another year. And, since Ed starts teaching everyday next week, the best time for us to move (if I don't get the Seattle job) is this week. SO, I'm home today packing the non-essentials- books, frames, files, etc- just in case we have to move later this week.

The upside to all of this waiting \ is that TNT's series, The Closer, starts its third season tonight. It's my favorite show. And, with all the impending changes, I almost forgot all about it- that is, until last night when battling insomnia, I stumbled upon the beginning of a 19 hour Closer marathon. Thank God that I can decide to let today's biggest battle become the fine balancing act of packing while taking in as many episodes as possible.

Job Updates

The family's reunited again. Laura came home Sunday night. Jack and I drove out to the airport to get her. Jack had been excited all day on Sunday. I tried to put him down for a cat nap before we had to leave for the airport around 10:30pm. But after an hour, he called from his room. I went in there and asked what was wrong. "I can't sleep," he said. Can't blame the little guy - so he got up. On the way to the airport Jack asked, "are you so excited Dada? I'm really excited."

When did he learn the word "excited"?

Laura's convinced her interview in Seattle went - just ok. The further she gets from the interview, the more she's convinced she didn't do so well. I pointed out it's a good thing she's not on the hiring committee then, or she'd definitely not get the job. The next step is they'll call (hopefully) for a second interview over the phone. Then they'll be more waiting before we hear if she gets the job or not.

In the category of "Things I Didn't Expect" - I got a full-time teaching job at CWU-Lynnwood (near Seattle). I'd be teaching a bunch of psych classes to undergrads at the branch campus. I didn't expect to get it because I'm ABD (All But Dissertation). ABD is this grey area of being smart enough to get through all your course work, but not smart enough to actually have your degree yet (you have to write your dissertation to get that). The university teaching jobs usually go to those people with their doctoral degrees. The fact that the job is on a branch campus and not the main university campus probably gave me a better shot. Think of it like an academic outpost of sorts - probably beneath some psych people. I'll be CWU Psych department's representive in the wilderness.

Still - it's not a bad gig since the afternoon and evening classes would allow me to a) gain some university teaching experience, b) take time to write my dissertation and c) start cultivating some sport psych work around the Puget Sound on the side. Anyway, it's good to know I'd have a job lined up if we did move.

So we're left waiting to hear on Laura's job - it's hard because I get the feeling that neither of us want to talk about it, fearing we might jinx something - so it's a little like saying Voldemort's name, you know, The Job That Must Not Be Named.

We'll let you know when we know something.

Crossin' off the days

Today's the last day of single-parenthood. Laura's been in Seattle since Wednesday - she flies back tonight. A friend from college asked her to be in her wedding. I'll let her to you all about it.

But my hat's off to every single parent out there. It's. Not. Easy. And I've only been doing it for four days. The tough thing is there's really no "off" switch to Jack. Not that I want an "off" switch - I'd settle for a "chill" switch. One game leads to another game and that leads to another game and then oh, let's play that game we played 30 minutes ago and blocks, let's play blocks....

There's never an appropriate time to say, "hey Jack, let's just hang out and watch 30-minute Meals together..."

I'm not complaining though. Jack and I went to the beach on Friday and the day was great. Jack and I built a mini-city of sand castles. Yesterday, Jack and I ventured to Franklin Zoo. Seventeen dollars and 15 minutes later I was informed it was time to go while on our way to see the lions.

I could feel that stubborn, foot-down feeling of fatherhood seething inside of me.

"Sit back in your stroller Jack, we're seeing some lions..."

We even had time to see the gorillas. The baby gorilla had a green blanket he was carrying around. He came right up to the window to where Jack and I were standing. Jack held up his Blankie for the gorilla to see. It reminded me of that scene in Close Encounters where the scientist and the alien stand face to face and communicate through sign language. It was kind of cool.

"I want to go."

So we came home.

Today, we'll probably walk to the playground. Maybe we'll feed some ducks at Jamaica Pond.

My Favorite Picture from our NC Trip

Three plane tickets to North Carolina from Boston: $490

A chance for Jack to spend time with Nana and PopPop: Priceless.

Good times in North Carolina - Papers and grading and job interviews and cover letters and summer teaching jobs can wait another three days....

A two hour plane ride: Now that's a vacation

We're two hours away from a trip to North Carolina to visit Ed's parents. This morning our biggest dilemma was whether or not to pack beach towels. And what a glorious dilemma. Much different than our more common dilemmas lately - both Ed & I had applied for a few Community College faculty jobs in the Northwest- neither of us were even called for an interview at the first place, but I was called for an interview at the other one where we used to live in West Seattle. Lucky me, I already have tickets for my friend's wedding in Portland, OR, the same time they wanted me to interview.

In the middle of applying for jobs, our landlords let us know that we need to move. Seems her dad needs more care- understandable. So, we found a new place to live and put down a deposit. The next week I got the call for the interview. Currently, we are in limbo-land- not knowing where we'll be in two months- not knowing what jobs we'll have in the fall. Ed applied for sports psych job this morning in the NW. Who knows.

Needless to say, we're getting a bit frickin' tired of the not-knowing. HOWEVER, in the middle of the height of not-knowing, Ed received an email from a good friend in Seattle-Meza. Who, by the way, is currently moving into a new home with a 21 month old and a wife who has designed the remodeling of their new home and overseeing the construction that is occurring while they live in the house- and, oh, is about 8 months pregnant with their second child-I'm thankful for a dustfree environment.

When we first moved to Boston, it was incredibly LONELY. Not the obvious lonely where we realized on a daily basis just how far 3,000 miles is away from friends and family, but the kind of lonely where it felt like no one really knew what we were going through- the risks and sacrifices and the significance of the choices we made to move so far and pursue a life that was far from guaranteed. This is why, when, after emailing Meza to let him know he didn't get that original interview- just a one line "BCC passed on me, I was bummed," Ed and I were overwhelmed with the response:

Luva - I am amazed at how close you are. I just know that the future will work out perfectly for both of you guys. You have had great success with these stressors in the past; things will fall into place beautifully for you two.

(By the way, Luva is Ed. Why his friend from college calls him that is worth another post.)

I asked Ed to forward me this email so I could post it in my office. Hearing the same words that we tell ourselves on a daily basis from someone else is POWERFUL. Never underestimate the power of support- in any form, particularly the kind you can print out and look at right after a student walks in near tears and you have to explain, why, despite all their effort to not turn in much work the entire semester, they are still somehow going to fail the class. So powerful that since then, we've slowly built up faith reserves for the unknown.

If Jack naps on the plane, we're going to make four lists. The first will be "pros" for living in the Northwest" (if I get the job); the second "pros" for staying in Boston a few more years; the third "cons" for the NW; and lastly, "cons" for staying in New England. We've been listing them all and really, our choices are all win-win. Sure, there's give and take (we trade beautiful fall colors for Safeco Field) but how incredible that we have CHOICES. Good choices.

We'll be back in a week. After our trip to the beaches of North Carolina where Jack will no doubt exclaim his new favorite word, Dammit, to the in-laws because he won't get a fourth dessert like he does at home. There will be pictures, too.

Thoughts on Virginia Tech

So we’re left asking “why”? Particularly, why did this malcontent decide to direct his rage at all of those innocent people, and spur him to kill more than thirty innocent people?
The country and the world is full of teenagers who feel like no one understands them, who feel picked on, who feel anger at their peers and want to lash out at everyone – so what makes two in Columbine decide to plan a massacre?
The following thoughts were inspired by an essay about the alienation of young people back in the 80s - written by a psychologist named Urie Bronfenbrenner. He said the way many Americans live our lives today - in disconnected houses, getting into our car for long commutes, dealing with other people as frustrating obstacles going from point A to point B, then going to work, staring at a computer screen, getting back into car, getting angry at the other people on the road again, before coming home and settling in front of our home entertainment center, in which we stare at a screen for more hours before going to bed - disconnects us from any sense of community.
The best things that develop a person’s identity is walking around their community. If they do that, they see their neighbors, and stop and say “hi.” They’re connected to younger people, older people, people who have similar interests and different interests. If you’re driving, you don’t stop and talk to anyone. When you stop and talk to these people, you get a sense of interconnectivity and value in the people you encounter – the shopkeeper sweeping his stoop, the cop on the beat, the old man feeding the pigeons on the park bench (yes - I know, a pretty romantic vision of urban life, but you get the idea).
Anyway, the thinking was, that when you don’t connect to anyone, you grow increasingly isolated. Your interaction with people is reduced to words and images on screen, and irritation and sometimes rage at the other cars on the road. You don’t even see the drivers as people; they’re just disembodied shoulders and heads behind the wheel of a massive machine that just cut you off and who now you’re flipping the bird at. You don’t think of others, because you’re not really communicating with others; you grow self-obsessed and alienated and narcissistic. Violence against others suddenly seems more plausible, since the capacity for empathy has disappeared.
In these shootings, we usually hear similar refrains from the perpetrator’s neighbors: “He was a quiet, loner type… kept to himself, pretty much.” Has there ever been a gregarious, popular, well-liked shooting-spree murderer? If you’ve got a lot of friends, or a family close by, or a support network, chances are your problem-solving options don’t include killing everyone you can find.
I have no idea whether this is what happened in the case of the Virginia Tech shooter. There’s a part of me that resents that anyone in society has to exert any effort to figure out what was going on in his head. But when the consequences of a loner suddenly deciding that mass murder is the solution of his problems is more than thirty dead, somebody should try to figure this guy out.
Maybe something about the way we’ve structured our society has expanded the number of people who feel isolated and disconnected from others, and that somehow impacts the phenomenon of those who decide to lash out at the innocent.

Can't see the Forest for the Trees because we're busy scrounging pine needles out of our dirty fingernails

I just read one of my favorite blogs, dooce.com. Her last two blogs (the one about her kid's 39th month newsletter and the one with pictures of the new house they bought with the money they make blogging) brought me to tears. We're just so far away from having our own home with a big yard and kitchen. Jack turns three this summer and he'll be lucky if we can scrounge enough dough together so he can move from his crib to a real bed. Yes, I'm pitiful. Yes, this semester is still kicking our ASS. And, yes, I think it will all be worth it some day. I just hate to be reminded how far away that glorious some day is.

The hardest part was hearing how her brother is moving to her town from Seattle (gulp) and how her entire family will be together where he daughter can play with all her cousins (double-gut-wrenching gulp). Us? We're looking at another year in Boston where the three of us will sit around a Christmas tree while Jack gets used to the familiarity of the very small immediate family. The one where the mom and dad couldn't get it together to find him a decent preschool in time because we're so wrapped up in just trying to adjust to all our work -- and so will be cutting even more time out of getting work done so that we can offer him some kind of structure to prepare him for Kindergarten.

Thus ends the P.I.T.I.F.U.L. fest that is my blog entry. I plan on wallowing with Ed on our futon (!!! will we ever be adults !!!) and watching Entourage, Season 3 on DVD. Oh, and maybe a few G&Ts.

This post is exactly what I tell my students NOT to do (a forced non-focus with obvious transitions)

I watched the first three installments of Frontline's News Wars, in part because I love Lowell Bergman (he's a constant at my fav-folks dinner party). There's a segment which analyzes print vs. online media- and the claim is that all the blogs out there aren't really doing any investigation; they're mostly serving as mini-databases; dissemintating information that is originally in print (so, no, the newspapers aren't dead--- yet). Well, here's my effort to reinforce that notion.

Spring break starts for me, um, now. Ed has three spring breaks in a row- and though that might sound incredible; it isn't. This last week was BU's spring break, so he was still busy with Lasell, Wheaton, and Harvard. Next week is Lasell's spring break, so he'll have Tuesday and Thursday afternoons to catch up on BU and Harvard stuff; the following week is Harvard's spring break, which means he'll have Tuesday and Thursday mornings to catch up on BU and Lasell stuff and be home Wednesday night. But, my spring break, which will consist of grading papers and figuring out mid-term grades, starts today. And, well, it's hardly spring. We're getting our second batch of snow. And, though mild in comparison to years before we moved, we're still pretty much house bound.

But, what's great about being house bound (besides driving in the slippery snow to get to the local grocery store in order to buy Jack his MUST HAVE chicken noodle soup - of which he ate all of four bites), is that we can soak in our favorite weatherman, Pete Bouchard. We LOVE Pete. Ed & I dig him- maybe a bit too much. He's better than Steve Pool or Jeff Renner. I'd love to take a meterology class from him- he'd be the cool, smart teacher. We also suspect he's the cousin of cool media guy, Joel McHale, from The Soup. Like Pete, cute, funny, and well, cool.

What's NOT so cool is how the snow is currently turning into sleet, and that after midnight tonight, it's supposed to be full on rain- which means no snowmen and lots of flooding. And, this is only two days after I wore my first tight-free skirt outfit because of the 70 degree weather. That never happens in Seattle. Nor, does the weather start significantly warmer in the morning and drop nearly 20 degrees by the end of the day (like today).

We have neighbors headed over to watch (wait, I hope I get this right) Round 1 of NCAA's Basketball playoffs. Apparently Duke and Notre Dame have already lost (as did Gonzaga) - and I only know that because I just asked Ed, but to keep some cohesiveness to this blog, I'll put a link to some of the info here. When I got up early to grade papers at a local coffee shop (okay, Starbucks), there was some guy there filling out his bracket sheet- looked like Ed's. There are many folks out there getting through these last few weeks of winter having a good time. I'm happy for them, even as I don't understand it.

I do understand that spring break should be about being somewhat lazy and watching movies. We're waiting for our latest netflix movie, The Prestige (which was supposed to be here yesterday). About a month ago we rented what we thought was The Prestige, but wasn't - mostly in part because Ed Norton, while an amazing actor, is NO Christian Bale (who happens to be on my other list- in fact he's at the top). I was going to have Jack in day care only a few hours this week, but with my work load, and the fact that he has missed about four days this month already with those damn persistant cough terrorist germs, he'll be going normal hours so Ed & I can actually have a lunch date AND get work done (can you imagine).

Jack & Ed are watching television- Scrubs syndication- and Jack's singing the theme song. Is that wrong? I don't care. It's spring break. (Please note the recent reference to Tacoma on the show- oh, and the recent activity at my home town's port- just trying to maintain some focus here...)

Philosophical Waxing and Waning

I used to read Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God every spring; right around lent. Like lent, I never decided to particpate in the calm reflective meditative practice that is reading Hurston (or engaging in lent), I would just happen to pick up the book and be in the mood for it. Every March or April for three years I read Hurston, not realizing that it had become a ritual. And I do love rituals- simple ones like having friends over for Sunday dinner or going out for breakfast at Johnny's in Newton on a Saturday. But, when you move as much as we have, rituals get lost. I did crave me some lent this year and did everything I could to find an Ash Wednesday service that I could attend in time to get home before Ed had to teach at Harvard. That, like so many other traditions and rituals, didn't happen. I haven't picked up Hurston since before Jack was born. I'm okay with it (the not having rituals part) - sort of. Rituals can be dangerous (obvious reference to Shirley Jackson's The Lottery here) mostly because they have the tendency to lose the very reflection that made them important in the first place. And yet, without them, my life lacks some distinct meaning. Maybe moving to Boston was in part about discovering new rituals that fit with the life and values which evolve from years of education, career changes, and new family members. Who knows.

Jack's been sick with some form(s) of cold or flu the last few weeks. Last night he threw up so I'm home with him today. I've yet to make it to a full week of school because of his colds and holidays since before February. And, I'm fine with that. Teaching five classes is KICKING MY ASS. It's insance, inhuman, and unethical. It's one of the reasons that Ed & I applied to teaching jobs back in the Northwest. That and the ever steady pulse of homesick heartache. Oh, and the realization that being near family would make childcare SOOOOO much easier. Oh, and the longing for moist air. But, mostly, the dull ache for the rituals we had only started - like the summer festivals at West Seattle Junction.

I really only wanted to post today to type up one of my favorite quotes from Hurston's novel. After years of accepting a less-than-perfect second marriage as a mayor's wife in a thriving town, the main character, Janie, "[watches] a shadow of herself... while all the time she herself sat under a shady tree with the wind blowing through her hair and her clothes." And, then a few lines later the narrator explains that "She got so she received all things with the stolidness of the earth which soaks up urine and perfume with the same indifference."

I can't tell you how many times this line has summed up my mood and reality the last few years. In a way it's down right depressing and a poetic definition of existentialism. But, when I'm about to rip off the five year old tattered sheets and light fire to my worn down five year old Danskos, angry that we haven't had the money, energy, or time to find or express some creativity - I have been able to (at least by the next morning), calm down and realize that everything just is. It's equally good; equally bad.

I think the quote sums up winter, too - winter in mood, you know, the winter of whatever part of life we are in. An acceptance of brightness hidden and warmth beyond reach. We've been in winter for awhile; things have been brewing underneath; goals have slowly become more clear the nearer we reach them (degrees/teaching jobs/doing what we love at work), and paradoxically, the farther we are away from them (being near - daily near-- family and friends). Applying to jobs in the Northwest felt like spring - like rebirth and fertility and lightness. That doesn't mean staying here equals death and darkness. Because, really, both are the same - it just depends on the day and the stack of work and the layer of dust.