Lawyer Date

I went on a date last night. It's been a while since I've been on an 'official' one, wherein the other party asked if I would like to go, and then we went. Usually, things are sort of arranged and assumed, or else they happen randomly, based on timing. People would treat me to dinner, or a drink, casual.

The Beau, as my parents called him back-in-the-day is classy-casual. I would dare to venture, always. Yes, I said my parents. And, back in the day. I don't see him often, these days.

Beau, L, and I get together about once every six months to serve up the tale of what's happened in our lives since our last gathering, and also to advise one another. We call it "Lawyer Time." Our Lawyer breakfast, actually is scheduled for tomorrow morning. This Lawyering has been a sort of tradition of ours since we graduated high school and each ended up in different states.. we all came back to our hometown in Georgia for Christmas, and usually at some point during summer break, before all dispersing again. We became adept at it by the end of college. Near the beginning, it was a little more upsetting.

Beau had a way of neglecting to call or write for the entire semester, especially early in our college careers. L and I were better at keeping in touch, being girls, maybe.. but having just spent our senior year of high-school all joined at the hip, I hated not being able to feel the love off him anymore. He went the farthest geographically, too.

Now that we're all out of college and in various stages of real-lifehood (L has a real job in NYC, Beau has decided to stay in school forever, currently in Washington state [though his summer is archaeological digging in the southwest US], and I'm putting off the grad school I think I'm going to later for a year in Japan... I told you we scattered far and wide!), it is a real comfort that we still find the time to reconnect. Even if it is the one span of a couple hours the morning after L gets in from NY in the dead of night, and just before Beau leaves for Arizona (literally, will get in his car and drive to Arizona from the restaurant).

The date was comforting too. This story has deeper roots. We were all a dream team together senior year, but L, Beau, and I all met in the 7th grade. L and Beau had known one another in elementary school, and when I encountered him lingering in my science classroom at the bell change, I began to rush to that class. When he dated L, I fed him helpful information, signing the locker notes "Incognito Mosquito." We went to the 8th grade dance together.

Embarrassment points: one zillion.

We also went to homecoming. He took me to junior prom. For all intents and purposes, we dated through high school. Except that I flatly refused to call it that. The short time we were official began like "Okay.. but what happens when we break up?" "We won't. I care about you too much for that." We're in the eighth grade, Beau, we are going to break up. He was my first kiss.

Over the course of the last ten years, we've had our requisite dosage of petty bullshit, of misunderstanding, of expectations set too high and fears about what we could or could not become. The term lawyers actually comes from the fact that at some point we sat down in the cafeteria with L and she was our 'divorce lawyer'... that day we decided we could never marry one another.

We made a lot of decisions with flair, and some even with finality. (Although I do have it written in an old journal, and I did happen to include the caveat "unless either he or I change pretty drastically.") I stormed and stewed and got fitful and got scared. I burned and brooded and yelled and bit my silent tongue. I daydreamed and despaired.

And last night he took me to dinner and a concert. Something old, and something new. We had fondue, which was one of the the most memorable things from junior prom night; I don't think he knew that, but it was where he wanted to go to dinner. I'd never been to a concert at the Tabernacle, but it was great, absolutely great.

I held his hand and we walked down the sidewalk in Atlanta.. a city so close to home, yet one I've never really grabbed for myself. It seemed fitting.

And I was just so damn glad to know that we're not done. I'm not necessarily where I want to be in several of my personal relationships. But I'm comforted to know that things change. Time moves ever forward, and change it all there is. There is the possibility that we'll look back on all this and smile sagely at the kids we were. The act of doing it right now makes me feel safer. I don't have to have all my ends tied up and my stuff sorted out. Beau and I are more on the same page, and understand one another more now than we ever have, I think. Not that we've "arrived," or anything, not that it's all "perfect." But it's pretty good.

Just because things didn't go the way I wanted them to, doesn't mean things won't be okay, perhaps tomorrow if not today.

Who's taller now?

Visibles Later

It was great living in an apartment instead of a dorm room, so you could have more space, and move from place to place and still be home.

So.. now you have crap strewn across several rooms, instead of contained to just one.

Packing is.. going. I got frustrated and starting taking down the posters somewhat prematurely, if you're going by tradition. I think it felt like I wasn't making progress at all since it wasn't visible. Weird.

Just found a home for my bed in a very nearby house of a friend.. she has an empty room she would love to transform into a guest room. I would love to put off deciding what to do with my bed for a full year. Viola. If I move back to Kansas, I can totally just get it back from her.

Yeah, I said if I move back to Kansas. That is still up in the air, and not something I can even begin to think about seriously right now. I don't like to admit to being stressed out, but I can't ignore the fact that I locked my keys in the car twice yesterday and have been crying a lot, and randomly. I like to know that I can come back... as I wrote in my little freestyle ditty on pale orange paper: It's good to know there's room in Kansas for me; space in the wheat state where I can be free. But all I can handle right now are possibilities, not decisions. There's enough motion for me for now.

I react in ways that make my roommate say I show "no integrity." Maybe he's right.. I feel a little scattered; to be integera is to be whole, one unit. But if he means my actions and decisions and words and admonitions don't mesh into one another.. then he doesn't know me quite as well as I might have thought. When the ends of my rope are frayed, I actually do have a tendency to act out a little... always responsibly, as is my way. Those surprising words the other night were mine. "I can make all the terrible decisions I want. I'm leaving." I begin to feel pressed for time, and take action to do and say all the things I might not have the chance to do or say soon. I begin to feel like in a few weeks, none of it will matter anyway, because I'll be far away. I do a few things that seem on the surface uncharacteristic of me. But that's how I cope with the fact that it's hard to leave.

It's all good stuff I'm headed for, I know. I don't want to seem ungrateful, which is part of my hesitance to even admit to being upset. I'm going to see my family soon. On the way there, some really good friends. And then, GHP. And then? Japan! It's all good, all of it exciting and amazing. But the impending adventures still hang just above me, and that little part of my heart that gets mutinous every time I wrench it out of its new home is complaining again. How many times will you do this to me? I may be used to packing and moving. I'm also tired of it. Not enough, just yet, to stop it. But I can feel that mutinous part moving within me, slow and inexorable like the tide.

Hiddens First

The storage room off the patio would be full of seasonal things if we were what we like to call "real people." But since we are not yet that, since we are recovering college students, it is full of all the boxes and bags we've saved from the stuff we toted, the stuff that was sent us, and the stuff we bought.

We put it there and forgot; today, I bust it out again.

Before, I was freaked out by the proximity of the end-times. Now, they are actually upon me, and I've shrugged cheerfully, rolled up my sleeves, and begun to pack. I have a lot of experience at packing and moving. In 2007, when my life began its pattern of changing every three to six months, I began that pattern by physically moving somewhere in that designated time period. Years of dorm experience has made me fully capable of this.

Even more than I had realized, actually. I used to hate packing and moving, not only for what it meant (leaving), but for the physical pain and logistical nightmare it can entail. Last week I looked around my room and couldn't fathom where to begin. When I got back from Nashville yesterday, I sat down without even thinking and began on my nightstand drawers.

I developed a way of packing that was in line with my wait-til-the-last-minute-to-believe-you're-going mentality. Hiddens first. Clear out desk drawers, closets, under the bed... everywhere that you can't see at first, first. Then, when you go to sleep at night, it still looks like home, though it's slowly emptying of you. Your poster is still on the wall, and your calendar, and you can ignore for the moment that everything around you is physically now hollow.

It's a compromise I must have struck somewhere between the nightmare of actually waiting too long to pack, and the loathing of sleeping in an empty room.

I looked into one of my old rooms while I was at Vandy over the weekend, since Aa-chan lived on one of the halls we used to run. 168, bearing not even the faintest trace of me, my life, the suffering I endured there (it was a fairly rough year, junior). Such is the way of dorm life, and even apartment life. It doesn't take long for the stamp of energy to fade. It may have been achingly important to me at the time.. here I worked, there I sat, down there I knelt to cry.. but ultimately, a few months later, someone else filled it, all of me moved somewhere else. The only thing, then, that seems to bear one's stamp longer than physical spaces are the people with whom you spent time there.

Which completely explains my mad dash to spend time with everyone as much as I can in these final days. I can't say why today I'm content to clear the closet and nightstand, and maybe the drawers too. Today, the hiddens, tomorrow the visibles. I'm not even interested in my mad dash to make terrible decisions (because I'm leaving, or because it's May?) right now. Like I said.. it's a shrug, a rolling of the sleeves, maybe a passing thought of shikata ga nai.

Freelance Educator, II

Tuesday, I got an unexpected call in the morning to go in to a first grade classroom that day around noon. Sub calls have become 'unexpected' on the whole, for me, as they season has waned. I've maintained the most tenuous of connections with the school system, but since my last day in the Latin class, I've considered myself finished. Sub assignments, then, come as windfalls.

I hesitated at first, because it was first grade, and that awful pair of days back in the winter was a first grade classroom too. But I figured, what they hell.. the school was the one I pass by very often on my walks. If for no other reason than it was practically in my backyard, I ought to give it a chance.

It was one of the best behaved first grade classes I'd ever seen. They tested and pushed a bit, as every group will do with a sub. They have to see what they can get away with. I've gotten used to that, and even gotten used to the idea that they will try to destroy me. With those exceptional kids who will make art pictures for me.

But there were a couple of crystal clear moments when we were all working together, all on the same page, and all maybe even learning something. They were smart. They were good. I was impressed. As much as I hate to admit it, I think it's partly because the area where the school is located is a somewhat wealthier area. You can tell it if you go walking and jogging around. The houses are nice, and there's a little lake back there, some nice property. You'll see kids on the front lawn running around with neighbors while their parents sit serenely on the porch, keeping a watchful eye. It's the American Dream Come True, and I love to see it in the afternoons. But it also means that these kids understand a little something about the benevolent dictatorship of authority figures. I didn't have to fight as hard to make them listen and try and do.

Also coulda been the para in the room.. who knows!

Anyway, the very next day I was switching gears in a big way, to give my 'guest lecture' at KU to two mythology classes. They're covering Ovid's Metamorphoses, which was the material of my senior thesis. I elected to come in on the day they read parts of books 7-9, which contains both Cephalus and Iphis. And I won't say who picked out the stories they were to read for that day.. or maybe even the days following that one... <.< I was ridiculously excited to talk about Cephalus, although I worried a bit that it would be outside their interest level (not their comprehension-- they are capable, just maybe not into it).

But it seemed to go pretty well, and was fun. Wednesday evening, as per usual, I had my GRE prep class, which also seemed to go pretty well. Another verbal session in which I try to balance "just learn more vocab," with "here's what to do if you don't know the vocab." In between, Erin pointed out that I'd spent one day teaching handwriting and algae to first graders, and the next teaching college. Who does that?

Freelance educators do? I got to say hello to Dr. Corbeill while I was at it, and when he heard I was giving a short talk on my thesis, he asked if I "still agreed with it." It was aptly timed, because the day before, I'd been both delighted with some parts of my paper, and despairing at others. I had to admit that I found much of it to be rather immature, despite the fact that I've been "away from academia" all year.

I haven't really, that's a total lie. While academia hasn't been my-whole-life this past year, I've still managed to swim in collegiate circles as usual. I thought about it on my way across the Wal-Mart parking lot, wearing yet another college sweater (this one actually a Vandy representation, although I have several others). But I've made non-college friends, too (a few nights ago I stayed up watching Curb Your Enthusiasm with Heath), and seen so many people well on their ways toward goals that have nothing to do with getting higher and higher degrees. Ultimately, more degrees may be the most fitting path for me (I mean.. who are you talking to?), but it's nice to know it was never ever the only way.

EmLem enters contest II

For this one I'm returning to stock photos from my life in Nashville.

This is one of my all-time favorite photos. It was taken by John in the fairytale garden and has been my desktop background ever since.

Nashville's Centennial Park has all the wonderful things that make parks great -- it has flowers, trees, a pond with ducks and geese, space to throw frisbees, historical markers... and a full scale replica of the Parthenon of Athens, Greece.

fall photos.. love the Parthenon!

Nashville's Parthenon houses the largest indoor statue in the Western Hemisphere, a towering image of Athena. Enourmous bronze doors outfit the front and back, and then of course there are the fluted columns, the pedimental sculptures, and the metopes to admire. You don't have to know anything about ancient Greek to enjoy the Parthenon or its tours and museum, and can learn a lot. There is also an art gallery inside. Prices range from $3.50 to $6, and the Parthenon is closed on Sundays and Mondays until June.

from across the pond

I've attended a few academic lectures in the Parthenon, as well as two plays-- one was a free staging of Medea complete with Greek-style masks on the back steps, and the other was the Metamorphoses, adapted by Mary Zimmerman. Other times, I've happily basked in the simply joy of having a giant Parthenon so accessible. Centennial Park is my favorite park for it.




Playing host to art and craft fairs in the spring, and Shakespeare festivals in the fall, Centennial abounds in laid-back beauty. For a refreshing jog or relaxing walk, consider the cherry lined pathway along the pond. The "fairy tale garden," so nicknamed for its impossible charm, is filled with all manner of blooms and is a popular spot for photos of pets, children, graduates, lovers, and friends.

a view toward fairytale garden

When in Nashville, don't forget to check out Centennial Park. Bring the kids. Located along West End Avenue, near 25th. Close to Vanderbilt University.

ducklings in the spring

From Vandy, First Year

I decked myself out in a snazzy purple turtleneck, skinny jeans, and clip-clop Italian boots, trying to strike a balance between looking well put-together, staying warm, and wearing the things I can't wear when I am going to work having to look "professional." Then I found this and smiled.

I became what one will become
Beneath the chilly winter sun,
Confinement does me good and so
I love trapped chaos and don't let go,

But when I taste the warming wind
I am tshirt-jeans again,
And when I smell the growing grass,
Time distilled inside may pass,
And I long to live, perchance to die,
To taste freedom or to fly,
I was collared shirts until
Spring returned, us all to fill,
We were living but forgot what's life,
With pain our pleasure has been rife,
Yet with pleasure too our pain has been,
We can't complain when this sets in,
But only move and only change,
Perhaps be tshirt-jeans again.

-3/22/05

Potentially Officially Affliliated; also, beer

As we know already, I have a tendency to relish connectivity. There's nothing better than a little web of seemingly random interconnected meaning.

Today, during my planning period/lunch break, I was browsing the interweb as one is wont to do. I remembered that I meant, last night, to look in the phone book to see if I could find some martial arts for myself. Yes, I'll only be living here a few more months, but hey, I could be back later.

Here is why: I was recently accepted by the KU Classics MA program, stipend and all (but I've always known that humanities grad students don't pay for school but are paid to be graduate teaching assistants.. I can see no other way a poor humanities major should survive unless independently wealthy). I submitted an application in a sort of just-in-case fashion, hope still being high for the JET experience. In the process of writing my cover letter, I realized that I really could gather quite a bit of enthusiasm for the program. From the ground up, Lawrence is a grea town-- this is a pretty big deal when choosing a place to spend several years, because even if your program rocks, if there is nothing for you outside of it, you'll be in a less than ideal situation. Also, the department has been nothing but great to me since the day I first wandered serendipitously into their halls posing as a prospective graduate student.

Actually, I would not have been there, but my roommate wanted to go check out the East Asian Studies department; I rode along (well, I had nothing better to do that day.. this was back in the late summer/early fall, when we didn't have friends yet). Classics was in the same building. I couldn't think of a good way to say "I'm a classics-hanger-on and would like to skulk around this department, offering tutoring and snagging friends," so I said I was "interested in the grad program." The Department Chair was busy, but she graciously suggested I come to the gathering/party the following day where I could meet and speak with grad students and more faculty.

This gathering also happened to be at the home of a name familiar to me through a professor at Vandy. This whole thing is rife with random connectivity.

I went to the party, and the Graduate Director, Professor Corbeill, told me all about the program. It seemed quite meritous, even if I were only posing as a prospective. Professor Corbeill later gave my name to a certain high school Latin teacher who was about to go on paternity leave.. without this, I would not be where I am, at this moment, sitting. This gathering was also where I met Erin, a first year grad student, and my Lawrence best.

So I filled out that application, warmly confident that it was a great program, and I am a great candidate for it. As time has passed, I've gone to a lecture or two, and hung around the department office a bit more. I even went to an afternoon translation session and made a good showing by sight-reading some Livy. In due time, I think I impressed Dr. Corbeill with my hanger-on ways, and I'm sure my shiny little transcripts didn't hurt either.

So anyway, I was looking for karate, right? And I decided to go to lawrence.com, because that's potentially a place to find all things Lawrencian. And there on the front page was this article! I beamed with pride. I know Heath from restaurant times at Zig's.. I used to be food expediter, and Heath was hands-down my favorite cook. His genuine good attitude was, especially some days, an absolute Godsend. He would laugh where others would get testy or blame me for things, and he was always upbeat and encouraging.

There in that barnyard is where I was when Professor Corbeill called me to invite me aboard the good ship KU. I had just toured the tiny facilities in my slacks and low heels on a chilly grey afternoon and was sampling a bit of the red brew courtesy of Heath when my phone rang to an unfamiliar number.

So, I might be back after all. I am not yet sure; I like the town, I like the department, and I like the connections I've made here. It's been fun being technically independent of the University, and would be cool to be in a program there. For now, we've still to wait and see what happens.

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)!