The Lenten Season

Honestly, I'm usually not really big into Lent. Self-denial is not topping my list very often, and while I know it not being fun is essentially the point.. it's not any good if it's not a sacrifice; I'm often less of a fan because I am a little too good at it, than because it's not a hell of a good time. I realize that abstinence from something or other is often very good for the soul, just like giving. But when I'm sitting in church and the pastor is saying "giving is good for you.. so write your check now," it's difficult to separate what I feel can be underlying intentions.

(I'll interject here that underlying intentions are what make me a little 'eh' on organized religion in general; another reason I rarely participate seriously in Lent is the fact that I am not Catholic and only recently am entertaining the idea that I might be Christian after all.. read C.S. Lewis)

But occasionally in the past, I've given something up, just as an exercise, to see if I could, and what effect it might have; I'm sure that it didn't hurt me in my life, and perhaps helped to cultivate discipline and simpler tastes.

But yesterday, I read this entry by 565 about looking inside to ask What is separating me from God? What separates me from joy? What is holding me back from being what I was destined to be?

I love new takes on old things. Questions phrased in this way make me think much more than "What pleasure should I give up for a while, this year?"

That very night, I found that the popular social networking website, the facebook, was upsetting me, and not for the first time. We joke about how the thing does more harm than good, when it displays all the 'news' about your friends on the 'mini-feed' without so much as checking in to see if you have perhaps had a fight with someone, or if you really want to see photos of her having fun without you. I've managed to adjust the controls, even, to prevent certain people from appearing almost at all. But it didn't stop a friend from using that server to send me a message bearing me tidings that I certainly could have gone much longer without knowing.

The more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized my facebook had become a bit of a compulsion, and a bit of a place to show off. To "stand naked in the street and call it honesty," if you will. It provides a surface-level survey of those people who use it (so many, these days!).. and back when I first had mine, I cluttered it with ironic things, which of themselves were meant to warn people off of taking any of it seriously. I set my relationship status to "married," to my friend Amber (we'd had a longstanding joke involving the Latin for "I love you as a sister," and "I love you, wife." [Amo te ut soror/Amo te uxor]). I had to change this when my friends began to demonstrate that they were of marrying age by commiting that act.

Times change, and so did my dealings with the wily facebook. I have realized by now that the facebook is not a "pleasure," like sugar or alcohol could be (although it does sometimes have comparable effects?), nor is it a tool that brings me closer to joy.

And there's been some real joy, especially lately. Not a bit of it facebook-originating.

Em Not in KS, Part II

I found out later that one of the questions almost asked of me was in reference to my previous application to the JET program. I applied last year, but since the deadline was in the beginning of December, I had to send my materials from Rome. Half of what I sent didn't actually make it to the US (showing that the Italian post is, in fact, less reliable than my hopes). Sumir apparently told them about this situation and they decided not to ask me the question.

But I really wish they had. The JET program is a frightening prospect: participants are supposed to be envoys of American culture (or, whatever country they are representing.. the US just happens to be the country sending the most people) as well as assistant English teachers. It requires more flexibility than anything I've ever seen, coupled with strict adherence to guidelines. The application procedure itself is arduous and leaves no room for tardiness or error. You are permitted to indicate location preference, but are expected to just go wherever in Japan they would like to send you, and work wherever you happen to be assigned.

It sounds like my cup of tea, doesn't it? But it wasn't always. I feel that last year, even applying from abroad as I was, the prospect of going to a farther place than Italy for a much longer time, with less structure than I had in Rome was a terrible idea. It was something I would nonetheless consider, and I did apply.. my heart was not in it, and I think part of me was relieved that the application got lost in the mail. I wasn't ready, then.

It would have been glorious to sit in that interview and say, yeah, maybe I am worse at speaking Japanese than I was a year ago, but that's not something I won't be forced to relearn if I go.. what I'm better at is virtually everything else required by the job. I've got much more teaching experience now; one of the interviewers even made the comment that subbing is the closest US experience to the JET life. From what I understand, most ALTs (the position is called Assistant Language Teacher, I think) rotate into classrooms in an area and give lessons in many places on an occasion basis. Some are attached to one particular school, but this is actually kind of rare. Subbing is a lot like what the program expects you to do. One could also end up assigned to any grade and age level, much like subbing.

But I've also got more experience in the area of.. just learning to live my life. I've mentioned before, the idea of 'becoming comfortable being uncomfortable.' As I grow more and more adept at navigating life's ridiculousness, I feel that adapting to whatever random assignment I could get with JET would be a lot easier. Not a cakewalk, but certainly not as difficult as it would have been had I not (within the US, this first time, of course) moved far away from family, friends, and resource connections and attempted to just begin some kind of life for myself.

I didn't get to say all this, so I can only hope my calm assertive energy was felt by those in the room as I answered a few easy questions, and a few hard ones.

As I mentioned in the previous post, after the interview was over, it was over. I made my way up the sidewalk to Vandy.. I'm not sure you could call it dancing, but it wasn't really walking either. I got to reunite with the beloved Classics department there, chat with Tommye, and catch up with both my advisors, one there at the office, and the other down at JJ's coffeehouse. It was this part of the Nashville adventure that really felt like a homecoming, a return to that "kindly mother" (alma mater), absolutely a gem in my weekend.

Because of the nature of my personality, I am always seeking to make others proud of me. I think that my state of mind post-interview was high on accomplishing that very thing. I wasn't always happy while I was in college, but I preferred not to let a lot of people know about it. It was partly that I didn't want them to worry, and partly that I knew they wanted me to be happy. Informing them that I wasn't felt like letting them down.

The converse is feeling right with yourself and having something to show for it. Questions like why did you move to Kansas? and was that really such a good idea? will evaporate quickly and easily under the bright light given off by the kid who can sit there shining, saying this is what I've done, this is how far I've come, and I will do yet more and go yet farther.

The rest of the day was spent reuniting with college friends, including J-Hallers, Dean, and Dream Team member Beatnik. It was all lovely, hilarious, and made me feel very at-home in a town I had a hard time considering home while I lived there. I fell asleep gratefully at about midnight, tired but happy.

Em Not in KS, Part I

My Nashville weekend was a whirlwind, but not a blur. I must have run the entire spectrum of emotions within Friday alone (but then again, if you are awake at 3:30 am and don't go to bed until midnight, you have a lot of time in which to do this). Happily, this began with the stressful negative stuff that comes from being tired and traveling, and it ended with the elation that is the natural result of being done with something.

True to form, I didn't give my interview much thought until about two hours before, so caught up was I in everything else. This includes Thursday evening, when I was supposed to fly to Nashville, but volunteered to take the next available flight when money was thrown at me in encouragement. My roommate was scheduled for the 6:30 flight anyway: why shouldn't I go?

This left me at the KC airport around dinnertime, with no one on the way to pick me up for hours. In a last-ditch effort for a companion with whom to kill time, I called Barbie.

Barbie has been the Dorm Director at my summer job as long as I have worked there. She recently fell in love with D$'s best friend and moved to Kansas City, though I have not seen all that much of her in the month or so she's been living in the midwest. [Don't worry, I'll be saying more about my summer job, D$, and all the rest as time goes on.. if you have specific questions, feel free to leave them, though!]

In the end, she and her boyfriend came to get me. We all went out to dinner, and then they drove me back to the butterfly apartment. I now have a good handful of Southwest credit and am free to plan spring break.

My roommate was insisting on leaving at 4:15 the next morning, so I dutifully set my alarm for 3:44 and woke up at 3:30. The flight was uneventful, thankfully, and when we arrived, John was there to pick me up. I was cranky and strange, though a bit better once I'd had breakfast (a sweet 101-year-old diner in Nashville called ...

Alright. I have to take a tangent. I just forgot the name of the restaurant, so I began to enlist Google to help me figure it out. I started fooling around with Google Maps, and the next thing I knew, I was clicking forward from the Google mapped location of Johnny's apartment, walking along the Nashville streets like it was a Myst game. In this way I "walked" right up to the restaurant so I could read the front of the building. It is called Varallo's.

Technology these days... wow.

Anyway, I was even better after I got to nap from about 10:30 to noon. This is when I promptly began to worry about my interview, and feel unprepared. Upon meeting up with my friend Dean, I made him practice interview me, rather than have a really decent conversation. I fretted and asked for tips and read articles about the current political and economic state of Japan.

But, as it was wont to do, the interview was pretty smooth. While I never quite feel satisfied with these things, I also know that I gave a pretty good interview, and that the judgments made on me in those 20 minutes of reckoning were probably positive ones. As a result, the next blog I start up might be "MiriNihonDe" or something like that.

And, just like that, I could begin to really enjoy my Nashville afternoon.

Serendipity in Nashville

I'm going to Nashville this weekend. I've got an interview with the JET program: this means I've passed the first round of eliminations and face one further. I should be more focused on the interview itself, but I've been looking into my weekend plans instead. This may be because I am a bit overconfident about my interview (this will change as the moment approaches, I assure you). It's also because I'm really looking forward to a little Nashville vacation.

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to fly out Thursday AND have a job that day, but fortune intervened in the person of Mr. Jason, whose Latin class is occasionally half mine instead. Because of the way his schedule is set up, I could leave early on Thursday, if I wished. So, no worries about making the flight!

As it turns out, not only will I be able to see my friends who are still in Nashville (Johnny, Lindsay, Beatnik, Aasritha, Zul, and assorted professors), but I will even get to see some of them perform in Asian New Year Festival. I myself used to perform with the Souran Bushi crew; despite my general lack of coordination [and it admittedly requires little-- the movements are supposed to be symbolic of fishing crews], the dance was a lot of fun: Souran Bushi [on the video, our dance starts at 1:50; Aasritha, Dre, Zul, and myself are all featured, as are a bunch of other people I just love]. Asian New Year Festival, or ANYF is Saturday night.

But that's not all! Some old 'J-Hallers,' or members of the Japanese language hall from the past, are also going to be there. Not only myself and my roommate, Dre, but also a few more guys from around the southeast who feel that ANYF and the serendipitous occurrence of interviews at the same time calls for a reunion of sorts (Allegranzi and Seth).

And I'm not even done yet. My friend Dean, who is now in UVA Law, has some kind of debate tourney at Vandy that Friday.

So all in all, the weekend promises to be a complete overabundance of reunion-ship and good times. I would have stayed longer, but I've got to be back in time to sub on Monday in my favorite job (yep.. the Latin kids, again)!

let them eat cookies

Some of the students today are turning in extra credit poems. I gather that they are supposed to begin "We shall eat cookies."

I've read over the few that were turned in to me today. The first was a great dark piece about how we are destroying ourselves through consumption of what we know is bad for us. After that one, the good natured and/or silly ones paled. I wondered what I should write, if I were to participate in this assignment. I would like my poem to refer to something else well-known, and be mature and literary.

My mind started going off in different directions. The first was French Revolution, let them eat cookies, misunderstandings, rich vs. poor. The second, though, was my favorite in the end.

I like poetry. I like short poetry more, because I feel like those poems should say more than they actually say. That their words should imply something beyond that which is written, and draw attentions and connections within the reader beyond explicit statement. My usual gripe of a poem, even if it is very, very good, is that it's too long.

So I wrote a cookies poem, and it is thankfully, quite short.

We shall eat cookies
For we have heard
That man cannot live by bread alone.
We shall eat cookies
And for a time, be happy and full.

Freelance Educator

I've only been subbing since November, but I've only been subbing "for real" since January. My first assignment was a long-term stint in one particular Latin classroom. Being stationed in the best freakin' classroom in the whole town could give me no proper representation of the freelance-educator lifestyle that was potentially before me.

This year is partly about becoming comfortable being uncomfortable. I've always been kind of nutty and perfectionist about planning ahead, and knowing what I was going to be doing well in advance. What could be less comfortable than actually not knowing sometimes where you will be working tomorrow morning until the phone rings at 6, summoning you from slumber? One must be portable, bookbag and lunchbox at the ready.. and one must thank God for google maps!

Today I am in Junior High. In Lawrence, this includes grades 7 through 9. We're on block schedule today, and I've had one section of Advanced Freshman English, and one of General Freshman English. I now get nearly two full hours off for the planning period, which happens to include lunch.

When I walked into the room this morning and turned on the lights, I could have cried with gratefulness. The desk was left neat for me, the room uncluttered, but decorated with various posters (some prints, some student-made). Silk flowers 'growing' in a pot on the desk. Library issues of Great Expectations and Lord of the Flies stacked here and there. Ah, English.

One thing I love about the Jr. High and High School system around here is that they don't make you go it alone. They've implemented a system of inclusive education, which I must admit I'm not sure I fully understand yet. What it means in general is that students with special needs are included as much as possible in daily classroom affairs. So there are paraprofessionals who tend to show up from class period to class period, often unmentioned in the sub notes, but certainly the best thing ever for someone like me.

That, being a relatively softspoken, short female who will not turn down help in professional situations here. I have decided that this year is a year for being humble, and learning a whole crapload of lessons. The underlying theme is basically that other people who have more experience are likely to know what they are doing. If you are honest with them about what you don't know, but earnestly want to improve, they can't possibly judge you harshly. And if they do, then they are jerks.

I didn't have a para for the advanced kids, but I really didn't need one. After subbing in elementary school, silence in a room of 24 students is mind-boggling, and beautiful. One para was surprised to hear that I prefer the upper schools to the elementary kids.

But I certainly do, from my experience so far. Older kids can be a pain, but they are much more likely to respond to my style of relating to them. At the very least, no middle-schooler has ever crawled under the table to cry and refuse to do his or her phonics work because "I don't wanna!"

I can handle a classroom full of grabby, sniffling six-year-olds, but I've learned that it takes a lot out of me. The energy required to stay on top of them is not something that comes naturally to me all of the time. Early childhood education was never really my plan for the future, but at least now I know that I'm not cut out for it. I have the patience, and even enjoy a little chaos, but I don't have the right type of energy!

I will still be subbing for elementary schools because I have learned, as those 1st graders soon shall, that "I don't wanna" is not always going to prevent you from having to do things you think are difficult. I've discreetly sworn off the particular school where I've had all of my bad experiences despite their warm and welcoming initial atmosphere. I never had paras there, and the kids were cutely merciless. I'm also going to avoid K and 1st grade assignments when possible. I've seen 3rd graders be perfectly angelic, so there's still hope.

And, naturally, I look forward to my periodic returns to the Latin classroom. I'm scheduled there for Thursday, and for the last week of February. It's nice to know the building, the students, and the material all at the same time.

With recession going on, Kaplan has cut back on class offerings, and I won't be working for them until probably April. I've also let the restaurant thing go (mentally.. I wasn't working there anymore after December, truly), although there are times when I do miss it. For all its petty drama, there at the end, I did get the sense that they recognized my low-key demeanor, my intense work ethic, and my tendency to be a responsibility sponge, and knew that they were lucky to have me.

Most of the students I freelance-educate are not given sufficient time to recognize it.

Winter

In early December, the cold came with a vengeance. I was convinced, since the Midwest could be nothing like the South, and thanks to the words of those living here longer than I, that after that first vicious freeze, I would have to tough it out, huddled under a pile of blankets in my apartment while it never got above 26 degrees ghastly grey outside my snow-covered door.

And in December, it was pretty rough. There were periods of time wherein it would not, in fact, come above freezing for many days at a time. I was bewildered and amazed to drive on snow-covered roads (because they would not cancel school for so little..!) and iced parking lots. We went days without seeing the sun behind the thick blanket of snow-bearing clouds. I would wake to find the temperature readout at 1 (okay, that was only once, but really? 7 isn't much better!).

But then, randomly and with little warning, there would be days, or spans of two days, with temperatures reaching into the 50s. Then the 60s. Last week we got to 71. A local was known to say "Well, it's Kansas. It can be in the fifties one day, and back down to 16 the next." Someone neglected to tell me about these high-temperature breakthroughs.

But I'm very glad to have had them. Instead of a long stretch of uninterrupted bleakness, I have been given a day here and there of amazing warmth! I strolled in a dress not so very long ago. If I can have a day like that once in a while, the winter won't be so hard. And I always viewed winter here as the 'hardest part.' So, mentally speaking, the hardest part isn't so hard as I thought. And February is halfway over!

The wind really is the chilling-est factor. Without it, the sun would do a lot to warm us all.

I do hope it snows one more good time, though. I haven't yet been in town and free to sled down the apartment hill (there are hills in Kansas, yes) or take snow-photos in the nearby park. (Soon I can post summer and fall photos, though! Winter ones so far only look like fall, without the leaves)

Lupercalia, S.A.D., and Valentine's Day

My roommate this morning jokingly wished me a happy Single's Awareness Day before leaving for work. I laughed because he and I are in what we call "the same side of different boats." Pirate Facebook likes to refer to this status as "marooned," left alone on an island somewhere to perish? Valentine's day is parodied to no end in a culture of irony -- single people unite to watch scary or violent movies in protest against a day that singles them out for persecution. We the marooned imagine that all couples are happy, prosperous, and locked in a sweet love-embrace, and envy them with all the strength our poor battered and lonely hearts can muster. I remain unconvinced.

I'm feeling quite cheerful this morning; it's a Saturday which means I am not slipping into insanity in my attempts to wrangle first graders into some semblance of order. My Classics-department grad student friend Erin and I are going to get gussied up later this afternoon and then camp out for any available tickets to Eurydice, a play showing at KU. Thereafter, we'll eat dinner (options range from leftover ZenZero, lasagna, or taco soup, to a real restaurant affair), and go karaoke with her household (approx. 5), mine (approx. 1), their neighbors, my, and my roommate's work friends; there I will earnestly encourage the single people of the world to not stop believin'.

I worried about the hearts-and-flowers holiday a few days ago, and with some luck, the few random origami hearts I sent out to cousins and friends will make it to their new homes by today. Valentine's Day is fun because, if you can cheese it up and enjoy its ridiculousness (a theme, lately), you can escape the trapped feeling that goes with dwelling on what you don't have.

Because really, there is a great deal that we do have. Whether you are "anchored" or "marooned," it's a sunny Saturday (here, at least!) and the temperatures are above freezing (if just barely.. what happened, I wonder, to the mid sixties we were enjoying just a few days ago).

Which reminds me... Happy Lupercalia! If you aren't into the whole Hallmark-holiday aspect of things, and don't want to throw down extra dollars for fancy dinner, celebrate the Roman festsival of the Lupercal: get together a group of friends who are willing to run around town naked with you, whipping local girls with soft goat leather thongs. This will assure easy childbirth! Um, and encourage pregnancy.

Try not to get arrested. Nudity is illegal in most places. And, I'm not sure how they pulled it off in February in Ancient Rome. I mean, it was socially acceptable, but it was generally about as cold there as in the American South, to my knowledge. Right now, it's late afternoon and in the very low forties--and that's WITH global warming and recession playing into things, mind you.

I like Lewis Black's reasoning for why we get a holiday like this in February. With every day getting greyer and greyer, we need a splash of color. So put on your most garish of reds, a big smile, and even a goat hide (if that's what you're into), and spread a little love around today.

Who's Your Daddy?

Happy Valentine's day! I'm indulging in a tyrrany of pink and red later on for my Valentines Dayte (my choices are a terribly cute pink dress, or a shortly in-charge red pantsuit... my 'dayte,' Erin, will help me decide) but for now I settle for a more demure lavender.

Recently, I went out to dinner with Erin and her roommate Brit. I left the pot of slow-cook chicken taco soup (of which I was so proud!) simmering for my roommate to enjoy and met them downtown, prepared to pry some cash out of my wallet because I just had to meet Brit's dad.

Quite happily, he ended up treating us to the wonderful array of "Asian Fusion" cuisine that is available at our local downtown ZenZero restaurant. It reminded me of college times... those great evenings when someone's parent would come into town, and so in order to meet 'the friends' they would sort of sponsor a dinner outing, doling out this kindness to college students who were, understandably, eternally grateful [there is often free food on campuses, but it is often not very good.. thus, food that is simultaneously delicious, healthy, and at no cost is a day-maker]. Apparently this process can continue to be practiced upon graduate students (and hangers-on, like me).

Before arriving, I wasn't sure whether I was meeting Brit's "bio-dad" or "other dad." (One look at him assured me he was in fact bio-dad) He was witty, kind, and Boston-accented, even more than she.

She refers to them both with father titles, but of course, only one has contributed DNA; the other married in. The fun thing is, instead of a lack of father figure, Brit might be considered to have an extra abundance.

Some people with stepfathers never really consider those men to be their true father figure. And, in some divorce situations, daughters end up paying the daddy-figure price as their male role models evaporate into new lives. There's empirical evidence on this, but even just anecdotally, I've seen it do some damage on growing girls. But not Brit, she (and her sister as well) hit the father jackpot, because both her dads were around, and supportive and loving toward her.

The most fun thing for me is that her step-father isn't married to her mom. He's hitched to her dad. She told me that, growing up, she always thought everyone had two (gay) dads, and it almost didn't make sense to find that most did not.

Well, whatever works; she is certainly a most self-assured and outspoken young woman, and does not need any man to make her valuable!

Today, her other dad is going to be in town while dad 1 is at a conference. I look forward to meeting him as well!

E3

Why "Butterfly Apartment"?

That's what I'm calling my place, since the designation is E-3. When written in my handwriting, that looks a bit like a butterfly.

But what it is, is a nice little place, homey, and on the edge of town.

A Little Late

"It's a little late," my friend Kyle said to me when I mentioned I might start a Kansas blog as a sort of parallel compliment to my old Italy Blog, from my stay in that place.

But after telling the same stories over and over again, I realized it might not be a bad idea to collect as webcontent my midwestern adventures.

This way, too, friends and family can check in and see just what the hell I'm up to!

And although I'm pretty good at recordkeeping, I think this will be a good way to compile my narratives and some photos, for memory's sake.

Another purpose of this blog will be to answer the question I'm asked most often regarding this year off of mine-- Why Kansas?

People from all over ask me this, not least the high-school and middle-school students whose classrooms I temporarily take over as a substitute teacher.

That's a pretty complex question, and I have some theories to share. I will, too, cut and paste from other things written, as well as outline the basic turn of events to tell you what I know. The "how" of moving to Kansas is a lot simpler.. literally speaking, I drove here. And the longer version of 'how' is merely a sequence of events that led me to sign the lease on what I'm calling my "Butterfly" apartment.