not nearly long enough

There's the blank space here, waiting for me to type in, but as I stare at it, I can't think of anything important enough to share from my day today. Woke up late (well, for me, anyway). Watched some TV/DVR/Netflix stream. Went to Jalapenos. Used up my month's worth of shopping energy looking for a new TV. Took a nap. Helped celebrate Mac's birthday. Came home. Stared at the blank space until I started typing just a minute or so ago.

Really. Not much there.

I could talk about the miserableness of shopping - the overbearing sales assistants who try to convince you if you don't buy this TV right now you will regret it for the rest of your life because this amazing sale ends tonight and prices like this won't be seen again ever (at least, not until their next sale). But I'd rather not relive the experience.

Mac's last minute birthday celebration was great - went to McCormick and Schmicks and ate seafood for the first time probably this millennium. Had salmon which I liked. Didn't convert me to a seafood lover, but was very tasty. Tried some wine, too, which I still don't like. And since this was good wine, I think that confirms the fact that I'll probably never like wine. We were there about four hours - lots of great conversation and food.

Of course, I kept being asked what I was doing to celebrate my not dying for another year in a couple of weeks. I've got nothing planned. I think I'm in denial - if I don't celebrate it, it won't be real. Not sure why this birthday is screwing me up so bad - not like I had this problem when I turned 30.

Well, nothing I want to talk about here.

So glad I didn't do a bracket this year. Much more fun to root for all the underdogs. And to all my friends who picked Kansas: you should have known once everyone picked them that they'd lose. They only win when no one expects them to. You know how this works.

No where near 30 minutes but I'm calling it a night. Might go watch Withnail and I for the first time (thank you Netflix). Could use some good British humor (or is that humour?). And probably should figure out if I need to be at tomorrow's rehearsal or not. You would think I could figure that out. You'd be wrong. Night.

Æ

if you're wondering how my day went, this post won't help

I'm beginning to think this Lenten experiment was a bad idea. I didn't write last night because I had a crisis a faith. Not about my actual faith, but about writing. I thought adding this discipline to my Lenten remembrance would help me focus, would add something to this usual season of subtraction. But what I'm adding to the world isn't always a positive thing. Too often I focus on the dark side of life and I can't imagine anyone feels better or closer to God after reading my ramblings the past couple of posts.

Part of the problem is the inherent narcissism involved in writing, and especially in blogging. I constantly talk about the fact that I write for myself and no one else. What could be more selfish than that? And in this kind of blog, where I talk mostly about my life, the selfishness is increased tenfold. Is it any wonder my experience this Lent has been less than fulfilling. It's like I purposefully sabotaged it by choosing an activity that goes against the self-sacrificing spirit of the season.

Of course the flip side is that perhaps my writing has given me the opportunity to bring to the surface some thoughts and feelings that would normally stay hidden. Maybe my writing is a purging of the poisons inside of me so I can be healthier and can fill the vacuum left behind with better things. The problem is the process is quite unpleasant. It's been emotionally draining and has forced me to question who I am and where I'm going and in some cases where I've been.

Making it worse, I'm doing it in a public sphere as opposed to somewhere private like therapy or a private journal. I'm spewing all this nastiness on my friends who were probably only expecting a quick overview of what my day was like (of course, if they know me, they had to know that's not the way I tend to write). Initially I thought sharing these ideas might help others who felt this way. But I'm not sure all this ugliness is actually doing that. If it's making me more miserable and not helping others, maybe I'd be better off not doing it?

I don't know.

I'd hate to give up now, with only a couple of weeks left, but can't help thinking we'd all be better off if I did.

But for now we'll plow on. Thanks to all those who responded to my last posts. It's strange - I sound much more depressed in my writing than I actually feel. Hopefully that's some consolation to those who feared I might be going off the deep end. Contentment seems to be the issue - I'm not content with the way I am and perhaps I need to be. But as another blogger friend pointed out, once we become content, we stop trying to change, stop trying to make tomorrow better than the day before. At least that's the tendency. And perhaps that's one of my fears: that if I accept I will never get married, I will no longer put myself in situations where I could meet someone. I know, I know - it's when you stop looking that love finds you. Sorry, that may work for some people but it's never worked for me. Not that actively searching has done wonders either...It's not an either/or thing. Contentment and hope aren't mutually exclusive. At least I hope not. But how do we feel content when we're always hoping for something else out of our lives?

Been reading Klosterman's latest, Eating the Dinosaur. His essay on voyeurism, "Through the Glass, Blindly," touches on part of what I've been feeling/experiencing:

What are the things that make adults depressed? The master list is too comprehensive to quantify (plane crashes, unemployment, killer bees, impotence, Stringer Bell's murder, gambling, addictions, crib death, the music of Bon Iver, et al.). But whenever people talk about their personal bouts of depression in the abstract, there are two obstructions I hear more than any other: The possibility that one's life is not important, and the mundane predictability of day-to-day existence. Talk to a depressed person (particularly one who's nearing midlife), and one (or both) of these problems will inevitably be described. Since the end of World War II, every generation of American children has been endlessly conditioned to believe that their lives are supposed to be great - a meaningful life is not just possible, but required. Part of the reason forward-thinking media networks like Twitter succeed is because people want to believe that every immaterial thing they do is pertinent by default; it's interesting because it happened to them, which translates as interesting to all. At the same time, we concede that a compelling life is supposed to be spontaneous and unpredictable - any artistic depiction of someone who does the same thing every day portrays that character as tragically imprisoned (January Jones on Mad Men, Ron Livingston in Office Space, the lyrics to "Eleanor Rigby," all novels set in affluent suburbs, pretty much every project Sam Mendes has ever conceived, etc.). If you know exactly what's going to happen tomorrow, the voltage of that experience is immediately mitigated. Yet most lives are the same, 95 percent of the time. And most lives aren't extrinsically meaningful, unless you're delusionally self-absorbed or authentically Born Again. So here's where we find the creeping melancholy of modernity: The one thing all people are supposed to inherently deserve - a daily subsistence that's both meaningful and unpredictable - tends to be an incredibly rare commodity.

The two obstructions he points out - an unimportant life and a mundane predictability - are what I've been struggling with. And look, it's happening just before my 40th birthday. Great. I'm a cliché. But at least I'm not alone - can't be if I'm a cliché, right?

And I've run out of ideas and the fact that I slept not at all last night isn't helping. So I guess I'll keep writing for now. I only ask that you, my faithful readers, take my thoughts with a grain of salt. In some cases, with an entire saltlick's worth. 'Til tomorrow. Æ

no, I haven't been drinking...

One of the benefits of being single is you are not beholden to anyone else's traditions. If I decide I want to celebrate St. Patrick's Day by eating pie and drinking White Russians, then there's no one to tell me I'm doing it wrong (not that I'm actually doing this. Nope. Not at all). And no one to remember I've done it in case next year I want to do something else. Oh I know, some would quibble and say then they're not traditions, but then they don't live here and, well, I don't care. So cheers and pass the pie.

Sorry about last night. As I've mentioned before, there are some nights where it's a bad idea for me to type out the thoughts I have in my head, where being honest and open will do more harm than good, both for me and for anyone unfortunate enough to read my ramblings. When I got home from rehearsal last night, I was not in a good place. So rather than subject people to my thoughts, I broke my Lenten promise (again!) and took the night off. I think everyone is better off for it.

But now, with some distance between myself and those thoughts, I think it might help me sort out what I was feeling by typing it up. I was driving home, listening to my iPod on shuffle, when "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds came on the radio. I love this song and had been thinking of it this past week, basically along the lines of I should listen to more Ben Folds. So with the wind whipping through the sunroof, the song played and I realized I couldn't imagine ever singing the song to anyone. Or having anyone sing the song to me. This wasn't a simple failure of imagination. It was the sense that I didn't believe in the possibility of love ever occurring in my life again.

As you might imagine, it made me a little sad. Crushed, actually. This isn't totally new - I've had thoughts like that float through the transom of my mind before. But last night was one of the first time when it felt real, like this was a living, breathing possibility, enough that now, 24 hours later, I'm still having difficulty convincing myself it's not true. I mean, looking at my age, my lifestyle, my past relationships, it's hard to argue that the odds aren't against me. It's not like I'm suddenly going to become good at dating or not have the worst timing in the history of the world.

I wonder if maybe I need to run with this feeling. Maybe if I realize no hope remains, I'll be able to focus my energy on those things I am able to accomplish instead of wishing for something I'm in all likelihood never going to have. It's like the old Steve Taylor song: "Since I Gave Up Hope I Feel a Lot Better." Yes, I realize he was singing against that idea, but maybe there's some truth to it in this instance.

I don't share this so people will try and tell me it's not true. Or feel sorry for me. Or tell me to quit my whining. Or even tell me I'm probably right. It's been on my mind and that's why I share. Unfortunately, it hasn't done what I'd hoped, which is to help me understand it. But it has helped me to clarify some of the things I need to think about, pray about.

Over half way through OGT Week. Hasn't been horrible, which is probably all I can ask for. I'm glad my lesson plans worked so well - lots of self-directed time for the students, which with the wacky schedule works great. I did make one mistake, however: I allowed my fourth bell to choose which movie they'd like to watch (before you go casting stones, know that I have my fourth bell twice as long as my other bells and I refuse to give them busy work or get ahead of my other classes). They chose Hotrod. It's like almost every other SNL-related movie I've ever seen. Might have been funny as a five minute sketch, but not as an 87 minutes movie. Luckily, it will be over after about 20 minutes tomorrow, which means we can watch something else. From now on, I'm only letting them choose movies from my collection - that way at least I'll know I'll like them.

Speaking of movies, I watched Gone Baby Gone this afternoon. Liked it more than I anticipated. Who knew Ben Affleck could direct? Lots of good performances and a story that left you torn on how you wanted it to end. Need to return it tomorrow if I hope to get another movie by the weekend, but might try and watch the commentary if I can.

Time for sleep. Here's hoping I don't wake myself up over and over again like I did last night. You know it's bad when your moaning wakes you up. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

standardized hell, day one

So today was the first day of the Ohio Graduation Test, Ohio's version of high stakes testing where everyone must pass to graduate and we make the test so easy that you'd almost have to try not to pass. Yes, I understand, I'm blessed to be in a district that does well and that's why it seems easy, but any assessment where you need less than 50% to pass is not a terribly accurate tool. I'm just sayin'. Not that I have to worry about that at all this year since I'm spending my time with the freshmen. It's not horrible and it could be much worse, but let's be honest, if they could drive themselves to school, they would be allowed to join the juniors and seniors with late arrival. So while we try to make the time meaningful, the truth lingers in the backs of our minds and it's hard to throw yourself into the activities with abandon when you feel they're meaningless. And of course, if the students aren't involved, it's all the teacher's fault for not being more energized and excited.

See? This is what this week does to me. It makes my jackass side more pronounced. Sorry.

Took a Sabbath from writing yesterday, partially because I was sick and exhausted and partially because I really didn't have anything to share. Didn't do a whole lot, which was both good and bad. And by the time I was ready to do something, my body shut down and I could barely keep my eyes open. Of course, when it was time to go to bed, I couldn't fall asleep and ended up being up well after midnight with the alarm set to go off at 5:30 - 4:30 the old time. Joy. Maybe that's why I'm so grumpy today.

Two good rehearsals again for Wedding Singer. I know I've said this before, but it's simply a fun show and one I don't mind rehearsing for. I'm still fighting those initial rehearsal jitters - I always tend to feel like an outsider, especially with this show when everyone is so much younger than me. I know I just need to relax and not be so uptight about how I appear, but I still feel a bit awkward. Of course, the case could be made that this isn't limited only to rehearsals and doing shows but is how I wander through life most of the time.

Yeah, I don't want to go down that road tonight.

Saturday night, after blogging, I watched Every Little Step, the documentary about the revival of A Chorus Line. It took you from the first day with over 3,000 hopefuls to the final cast. I loved it, but I'm not sure what non-theater people would think of it. It resonated for me because I've been in similar situations (not quite that large, but still) and I know those feelings and my heart went out to those auditioners and I died a little every time someone got cut. I suppose it's similar for those who play sports and see movies about what they go through. If you have any ties to theater at all, I highly recommend it. Netflix is streaming it, which is how I saw it.

My computer is acting like it's 1995 and I'm on dialup yet again. Everything is taking three times as long and occasionally everything freezes and stops for a while. I feel like I want to put on some Gin Blossoms and watch the X-Files.

Less than 20 days left in Lent, which means Easter will be here before you know it. My Lent has been a bit lackluster. The extra silent time in the car has been good but not transformational. The blogging has been good, but too often I feel like I'm not digging nearly deep enough or writing well enough or saying anything of importance. And I'm definitely not experiencing a Lenten honeymoon. More like God and I are going out to dinner and tolerating one another's presence. Which is totally my fault.

You know those days when you can't think of any reason why anyone would want to spend any time around you because you're so miserable? Yeah, I'm having one of those days.

Bwahahahaha, "Casualty of Love" from the show just came on my iTunes. Perfect.

And on that note, I hope to go get some sleep. Here's hoping day two goes better...Æ