Home Sweet Home

Dear Kate,

When you feel strongly about a given topic, you should air it out like rugs on a spring day. Lest you want those thoughts to grow old and musty, harboring in your soul!

There was a time in my younger days when roommates seemed the way to go. But those ideas left as quickly as they hatched. Like you, an only girl in the family, I was raised with my own room; my own space to write, listen and play music, do homework, hide, and simply be me. I never did well with sharing my personal space. In fact, I can only think of one roommate who fit the bill of independent living in a shared space. With other folks whom have shared living quarters, I remember distinctly thinking like you now think: Only “x” amount of days left until FREEDOM!! Luckily, I was so intent on having my own space, I usually sought out small, affordable living arrangements: one room or studio apartments. So when the stray friend did arrive needing a place to stay, it was usually cramped, but thankfully, short lived.

Having a “home” though has always been an interesting concept. My parents moved to St. Louis my senior year in high school, and I stayed behind. Panama City was my “home” until I realized it was no place to rest my head. Too much negative energy. So my move to Pensacola helped me rediscover a town to call my own. Where my parents live will never be an address for me. Rather, I have always felt drawn to make where my feet land my residence.

Once upon a time, I shared a great little home. However, when things started going wrong with mr. ex, my “home” no longer felt as such. I had to make the difficult decision to pick up and move. There is a point for this thought, and I use it as a gentle warning. My home with the ex started nice: a big plot of land for a garden, walls I could paint, a shed for my creating, rooms with big windows. But I was the one left struggling to keep that house a home. I was the one cleaning, cooking, shopping, mowing, tending, tidying, pruning, vacuuming, washing…time slipping away while I felt alone in my efforts to keep up a “home.” It no longer felt like “ours.” And that is my warning: You with your accommodating ways: Don’t find yourself always doing the household chores alone… you tend to eventually resent the one who was supposed to be the other part of “we.”

I only say this because I continually see you saying, “wherever J goes, I’ll follow.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I like J. And I like his philosophy of not longer putting off living because of the “first I have to’s” (unless it’s a necessary “have to” in order to reach a wanted goal…like “having to…” raise some money to build on a plot of land from granddad). But, on the flip side of the coin, you do have the masters. What does Kate truly want to do, outside of J? And is it something that perhaps J could follow you?? Now, I am ok of Kate truly wants to follow J, I just want Kate to go because KATE WANTS TO, not because J expects Kate to follow. Am I making sense? Part two of leaving ex was because he found contentment; there was no longer a sense of adventure. If I were the kind of person to be happy in one place, then perhaps I could have stayed. However, like J, I believe life is an adventure worth living. I felt I was losing me by giving in and trying to mould myself to another’s life. I was driven to move on, and in doing so, I found a corner of the earth to call my own. And in that corner, I was able to rediscover and reclaim ME.

With my reclaim to the life that is mine, the capt joined in my journey. We share the same sense of adventure, and my home has become “our” home, completely and truly (he even does his own laundry!!). He has opened my eyes to a new definition of home. The capt lost his home to Katrina, and during a weekend outing, he took me to see the concrete slab that is all which remains of the place he once called home. We have learned that home may often be embellished by the objects of furniture and nick knacks collected over the years. But a home, if you’ll excuse the cliché, is truly where the heart is. As in, the capt and I do share the ideas of a nice quiet plot of land with a garden and a writing room, but we also know we would be equally at home on a boat with our only belongings fitting into one bag. Home is where he is, and vice versa.

So, in conclusion, continue to play your patience card, but know your companionship with J is just another simple form of “home.” Continue to look forward to that little house you will one day call you’re your own, but don’t allow those desires to cloud over what you have today. I am excited for your apartment to be, and excited for your future, but don’t forget the now, for it is where we must live.

Peace, and Patience, ma cousin,

Leigh

Sometimes I wish people would go away so I can do everything my way.

Dear Leigh,

This is a long one.

I'm feeling pretty uninspired, at the moment, but at the same time hopeful.  Could be the weather--very gray.  On the one hand, I'm upset because I just had to leave my cat with my parents for a couple of months due to the edict of J's roommate, who cannot stand messes of any kind, even if they are a tiny dot of poo that an excited feline left on the carpet after leaving the litterbox slightly prematurely...

I'm also frustrated that I cannot know precisely what is going to happen in the next six months or the next year and a half.  I'm only contracted for 9 months at a time, which leaves me lost for the three months of summer.  In addition, J is feeling that he doesn't like nor does he fit into the academic world (can't blame him; I'm starting to hate it), so he might not go to grad school for his mfa.  Which is fine with me, actually, except that I don't want to be in Blacksburg after I graduate, and if he doesn't get an assistantship somewhere I don't know where else we'll go.  I believe I've exhausted this town.  

On the other hand, I'm excited about the apartment J and I leased for next year (nice and quirky with 60s appliances and wood floors), I'm excited about finally getting to teach my own classes, and I'm excited about what I've come up with for my thesis.  Also, the possibilities opened up if J doesn't go to grad school make me a little giddy.  His point is that he's continually putting off living the way he wants to by saying "well, first I have to do ____."  So, why not just be brave and live the way we want to?  He's already got a bit of land that his granddad will give to him, and if we both get salaried jobs--even if they're just at sandwich shops--we could get a nice enough loan to create a home.

I guess that's really what I feel like I'm missing right now.  A home.  My belongings are split between two places, my cat is with my parents because I have to accommodate three different roommates (two of which will be newlyweds in a week and a day and already drive me nuts with all the wedding blah blah blah).  Thoreau says at the beginning (ish) of Walden, "At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house," and when I read that for the first time a week ago I almost went "YES!" aloud.  I see every bit of land as a possible place that could be MINE, where I can have my cat and have my boyfriend and choose my own furniture and my own temperature and keep things clean and nice-smelling, where I can arrange my books attractively on my thrift-store shelves and put the mirror my Aunt made me above my little white desk to create a vanity, where I can keep my bathroom stuff IN THE BATHROOM and put the cat's litterbox somewhere away from where I hang out...*takes deep breath*...and where I can practice my violin without worrying about any roommate but J, who would probably play along with me, where I can have a corner for my easel and a corner for my comfy reading chair, where I can have my dishes without having to dig them out from under hundreds of my roommate's dishes, and where I can keep the table clear enough to have tea at in the afternoon when I get home from campus. 

Mostly, I can handle not being in control.  I'll admit that I'm generally a passive person.  When it comes to my space (or, next year, my classroom), however, I must have it my way, or I'll be unhappy.  I love your little house because it's so yours.  It suits the life you lead--what would you do with more rooms?  Why have cable if you're not into watching the crappy shows that are on it? (By the way, I'm considering living without cable next year, not only to save money but to keep myself from shows like "Real Housewives of Atlanta").  J just barely understands my discomfort, and my roommate doesn't understand it at all.  

My mom, on the other hand, understands perfectly just like she understands that I'm accommodating to a fault.  She's watched me nest my entire life--I used to bring photos of my family and my cat on trips and tape them up around wherever I slept.  Now, my only options of places to stay are: 1) an apartment overrun by my roommate's and her fiance's stuff where I feel uncomfortable watching the tv since it--and all the furniture--isn't mine and the couple is way more into their shows than I am, or 2) an apartment where I don't pay rent but where I'm allowed to nest and keep my clothes and books and pictures in J's room, where (until now) I could hang out with our cat, but where I feel guilty cooking or showering or existing and where there's a roommate so finicky about cleanliness that he cracked a window (it was 20 degrees outside) and left a cup of ammonia on the stove after J and I made popcorn the other day.

I'm so frustrated!  I need a place to call home.  

I can tie this into our discussion of technology, as well: just as each person (generally) has a physical space in which they feel comfortable and which needs to be respected, each person has a technological space in which they are comfortable and which needs to be respected.  I plan on extending mine to my classroom, since I consider that my space.  Once the students are out of my space, they can text while browsing the internet and listening to clangy music on their iDoEverythingButBrushYourTeeth[ThoughThat'sInDevelopment].  

I apologize for being so long-winded.  Repression isn't good for me, but I've had to become good at it to keep the various roommates happy.  2 months til freedom!

Technological Soapbox

Dear Kate,

Three months have passed since out last correspondence, well…since my last response! There truly are no excuses for my hiatus…
Writers Block: No. I just haven’t been writing
Laziness: No. I have been pretty busy
Too Busy: No. One can always find time.
The truth is, I just haven’t been writing! Sometimes I feel I can attribute it to a simple case of Burnout. Not from our letter writing, but perhaps my job. Or even sometimes my indecisiveness over what I want to “be when I grow up.” There is a transition waiting over the next hill in my life, and maybe it is an impatience for that next climb that keeps me from my writing and sets me in this rut of “burnout.”

I think some of this draining with my work stems from the same frustrations you experience in the classroom. I feel sometimes I bear an old-fashionedness that frustrates me towards the ageing younger generations (the rising high school kids in my case). The technology you refer to in your letter can certainly be to blame. You grumble that kids no longer read: why read when you can watch the movie or download the cliff notes? The internet caters so much to these kids, their teachers and leaders should be catering as well! Cell phones with texting dominate the lives of my teens. Yesterday I was at the beach and I saw a young girl walking along with her boyfriend. She was adorned in her bikini and carrying her cell phone in her hand. I wanted to ask: “why couldn’t you leave that device behind while you walked?” I have to force my kids to leave their cell phones in a “cell phone station” so they don’t text or call during my programs. Video games have replaced outdoor games. When I lead a retreat at our campsite, the kids want high tech: movies, power point, video games. I want to shake them and say: WE’RE OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS!! TV today jumps and flashes so much I realize there is no surprise that the kids cannot sit still for five minutes without something to artificially stimulate their minds.

I look at society today and see the distress of the economic times. This technology has somewhat lead to this need of bigger and better, brighter and flashier toys. Power Boats, Gaming Systems, Sports Cars and SUVs, Music Players, Internet Touch Phones. It is no wonder that these expensive habits are causing such grief when budgets become tighter. I know of kids who need to get a new game each year for their xBox or Wii…but those games aren’t cheap! Phone charges become more costly the more applications you need (unlimited text, unlimited minutes, unlimited internet). Gas prices…need I say more.

Again I say maybe I am old fashioned. I do not have cable, internet, more than one car, or too fancy a phone. I do have a garden, some books, a radio, and an imagination. I cannot tell you how many friends (and family) have commented on their desire NOT to come to my house because I don’t have a TV to entertain. I didn’t realize sitting the back yard chatting and stargazing wasn’t entertaining. Nor did I know people don’t like listening to original music on NPR. Also, I have heard that my house it too small (Do I really need more space? It’s just more I’d have to CLEAN!) I have a friend who actually tried to convince me to buy HER house so she could buy a bigger one for her and her husband. Do two people really need all that space? I don’t have that much stuff…and I have come to realize that when I do become crowded in my small house, it may be time to consolidate!

Having read over the past few paragraphs, I feel I have become my “Father’s Daughter.” We two can be quite the grumblers. As I get these grumbles out of my system…I feel a need to defend technology. I do own a cell phone. I do like to blog and email. But I don’t let those things run my life. I am thankful for the life I have. It is a life suited for me. I respect that others may not like my lifestyle, but it’s ok…that is why it is MY life. No one can tell me how to exist much less than I can insist another live like me. I have my faults, and yet, here I am throwing the first stone. So to turn this whole letter from a grumble to productive verbiage: I work hard to try to throw my simplistic way of life into the whirlwind of technological living in which my kids have been raised. Rather than force myself or others to accept one way of life over another, I would rather stress the need to adapt: keeping one’s own identity, hoping it may rub off or mesh with the next generation.

I know this does not help much in the gist of your letter…I just decided to hop upon my trusty soapbox and go to town. Again, accept my apologies for my hiatus, and know I will do better at keeping up my end of the conversation!!



Paix, ma cousine,

Leigh

Epiphanies and my dislike of technology in the classroom.

Dear Leigh, 

A little while after I wrote that last post, I reached some of the same conclusions you did.  It dawned on me in poetry class, actually...we were working through some Jorie Graham (amazing poet), and my professor mentioned that the next section of Graham's book of poetry focused on standard events in the life of a woman (or anyone, really).  Suddenly I realized that here was a woman writing about a life not remarkably different from anyone else's and doing it in a way that brought out the emotion and movement of ordinary occurrences.  What she does is beautiful, and, though it mirrors ideas that other poets have had and events that others have experienced, it brings out something that only she can articulate.  If Jorie Graham can write about being her--a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter--then I can, too.  Those things that inspire me have so often felt unworthy because of how ordinary they are, yet those are the same things that led Graham to write and gain respect in her field.  

So I don't have to find something to be passionate about outside of myself and my relationships, which are what really drive me, to write or paint in a meaningful way.  My work may not be like Jeremiah's--it definitely won't be--but it can be equally good.  I guess that my primary realization was that it isn't that I don't have passion, it's that I don't recognize the passions that I have as passions worthy enough to be pursued within the academic realm or extended into my creative endeavors.   

***break for department meeting***

Since that day in poetry class, I've been noting the images and memories that affect me and have taken up the project of writing about what it's like to move through this world as the person that I am.  The connections that I make between separate and seemingly unrelated moments are, in my opinion, what can separate my writing from the cliche writing about boys and friends and going from adolescence to adulthood (not sure I'm quite finished with that).

As for following J wherever he might go...I'm like you with the captain.  I'd follow my intense writer/procrastinator/banjo-er/guitar-er halfway around the world if that's where he wanted to go next, but I think that part of love--outside of a force that will move you out of your comfort zone--is a compatibility that means that following the one you love wherever they want to go isn't necessarily the antithesis to doing precisely what you want to do for you.  

What I mean is that, though I will go to whatever place J wants to attend grad school, I'm confident that the place he chooses will have opportunities for me, as well, both socially and professionally.  I'm also itching to get out of Blacksburg...I'm excited to go someplace new.  And I'm excited about our plans to eventually come back to good old southwest Virginia and build our own place--on land he will likely inherit--not just because he proposed the idea (I didn't have a clear one in mind) but because it hearkens back to my little-girl dreams of living in the country and producing at least some things for myself.

On a different note, I'm concerned about the direction education is heading. We just had a meeting about ePortfolios, and I find that the faculty are more focused on incorporating technology for technology's sake than they are on incorporating it when it has a clear and useful purpose.  Just because it's new doesn't mean it's progress...so many times the computers only serve to complicate things further and add work for teacher and student alike.  I also disapprove of this "student-centered" learning in which we are encouraged to coddle students with short-attention spans who don't like to read books.  I refuse to bring unnecessary technology into my theoretical classroom just because kids nowadays cannot pay attention or take notes.  Why should we accept the decline of reading and real critical thinking and communications skills?  College is a place to be challenged, not a place for hand-holding. 

In my opinion, anyway.

I'd love your thoughts...hope you're well.

Love,

Kate

An Optimistic Soap Box

Dear Kate,

I read the date of your last letter and was riddled to shame at the length of time I’ve allowed to lapse for my response. However, as I re-read your thoughts, it sparked the same emotion I felt the first time I read your words a month ago. Why it took me so long to respond… I don’t feel right making excuses, because there are none.

The emotions corresponding with your words first dealt with your talk of following J wherever his life may lead. Upon first glance, I fluffed up my feathers of female independence and thought NO!! You should be foraging your own path, and fitting his life to yours. But then I realized my own shoes would follow the capt’s half way around the world and back for two reasons. The first reason is simply because I love him so much, I would never want to be apart from him. His life and mine flow along the same path so effortlessly that I do not feel I am losing any part of my own identity in accompanying him. The second reason is as simple: his life would lead me on the road of adventure I so much adore in this existence. So my thoughts back to your willingness to follow J – I pray that his life will lead you on that adventure, positively influencing your life’s accomplishments. I know you have the commitment with him, I simply pray the second piece won’t lead you into a life of settlement. I do believe you know as well as I that life is truly an adventure worth living.

The second emotion that bubbled from your letter deals with comparison. You are a wonderful person: intelligent, talented, creative. Yet you compare your gifts to those of J. You should be looking to him more for inspiration perhaps than comparison. You are both truly differing people with differing abilities. I fear when we begin to evaluate ourselves against those we admire, we will always fall short. We will never be good enough – You really have your own talents and passions without need for personal judgement based on another's life. I have found that I could many times set my own self up for doubt if I compare myself within YOUR shadow, rather than using it for inspiration. You amaze me, yet I know I have my own abilities outside of your glow. There is no comparison. I fear that when we stumble into a life of “us vs. them,” we set ourselves up for certain failure! We will never be as good as “them” because we are “me’s.” You are the individual with the individual talent – a talent you need to tend to rather than compare. I’ll never be as good a sailor as the capt, but that’s ok, that talent belongs to him. I am simply along for the ride, silently learning as much as possible to become the best I need to be at his sport.

Finally, as to your thesis: Sometimes the topics we choose as “easy” may be those towards which we feel some form of passion. In other words, what you may consider “easy” may not be so for another whose passion falls in another field. For you, your love is in the evolution of the short story. Another may hate the idea of the evolution, and rather focus on the writers choice of pen name. There are so many pieces. Like I mentioned before, both in my previous letter and within this paragraph, passion is that in which we find ease because we love the topic so much. You need to write about what you love: music, thrift-stores, painting, short-stories. Don’t feel your life is so humdrum that you believe it would make for a boring tale. I believe Jane Austen’s tales were not about very interesting lives, yet she wrote them with her own passion – threading that flow of emotion needed to grasp a reader’s adoration. Simply: it is fine to write about those things which are “easy” because they are often the things we care most about, thus weaving the ribbon of interest based upon our own experience and zeal.

Best of luck to your writing, ma cousine.
Paix,
Leigh

Dear Leigh,

I know exactly what you mean.  Though I enjoy many things--a good book, writing an interesting sentence, painting, awful fashion shows on tlc--I tend to lack passion about any of them.  It's become particularly apparent to me in the last few months, when I've found myself faced with the question of what I want to do after graduate school, and when I've found myself questioning why I'm here to begin with.

From the beginning, the professors reference our THESIS, that horrible paper we'll be writing next year, and from the beginning I've been trying to figure out what mine is going to be on.  I like creative writing, and I like reading, so maybe I'll look into the evolution of the short story as an American genre, yet this idea fails to excite me beyond "oh, that'll be relatively easy to write about."  Other people have chosen eras that they love, authors that they love, yet I...I just like to read.  I like a good story.  I like to know about the people who wrote the story, and I like to know how that comes through in their work.  Yet, still, none of it excites me beyond "oh, that book sounds interesting; I think I'll read it if I can find the time."

Then I watch and listen to J, who agonizes over his stories, who turns out wonderful and original prose, who can argue passionately about a number of things, and I feel as though I'm failing in some way.  As a human, am I not supposed to have a calling?  

I haven't touched my most recent painting in a month, I can't seem to come up with a good story let alone finish one, and a thesis just sounds like a chore to me.  Afterward...honestly, I'll take a job wherever J plans to finish grad school, as long as it pays okay and seems somewhat interesting.  I'll have weekends to clean and do my little hobbies like sewing and painting and thrift-store shopping...

It seems like I'll live a life where my passion won't be translated to paper.  I'd love to be a writer, but my life up until this point has been entirely too average, and I don't care to write about it.  I wish I could make it relevant to others, and I wish I could think of an era of English literature that inspires me, but the truth is I just want to be able to enjoy my family and small occupations comfortably, and that's not really novel-worthy...

So I don't really have an answer to it all.  I feel similarly to you, and most of the time I'm pretty much okay with that.  Every now and then, though, I wish I had an intense interest in medieval linguistics or...Rudyard Kipling...or...writing the next great american novel.  I just don't have that thread, as you say, to weave through my writing that makes it exciting and relevant enough to be said to have passion except on the most superficial level.

My cat just began to snore.  I think it's time to go to bed.

Love,

Kate

Prioritizing Passion

Dear Kate,

I love the memory given by your mother in her letter. Here was her daughter, wanting a walk, but content to fend herself. Consequently, mom reevaluates the importance of her choice in this situation, and decides instead to spend good quality time with her daughter. So often in our society we miss this quality time…Look at your closest relationships now. You, like me, are content in solitude, but appreciate good quality time spent with those dearest to our hearts (though the actual number within that intimate circle only requires the use of one hand to count).

Just now I sit writing you, alone in my home, content with the music in the background and the snoring of the herd. I had spent some needed time reading a great book, a gift from the capt. costing him only a quarter. Soon I will be leaving for a drive over to my brothers, and though capt has had a long rough day, he has chosen to ride with me the hour’s distance to Destin. I have to go regardless and would have gone alone, but he who had the choice decided going along for the ride mattered. And I love him a little more for that decision. Now this obligatory ride will become one of good quality time spent with a wonderful companion…a nice break from the monotony of obligations.

Alluding to your letter though, these sacrificial decisions must be balanced on either side of any relationship for bonds to hold. It sounds like your friend in Atlanta demands all from you with little to return. I do not wish to make assumptions, but I do often find myself constantly in the shoes which cause me to bend backwards to others. And slowly it results in great weariness. I find I often have to take a step back and let the plate fall. If it doesn’t break, I’ll eventually return it to its place. (Luckily the doc’s plate shattered, and I am a happier person for it!) So I pray for the sake of your relationship with Atlanta – I pray she assists in keeping the plate of your friendship spinning, so you alone are not drawn to weariness, risking the break of a special relationship.

Now to shift topics –

I finished a book New Songs in an Old Café by Robert James Waller. It is a collection of essays written mostly for the Des Moines Register. I bring this up because I felt his essays were filled with such passion! This passion emitting from his pages led me into deeper thoughts. One essay, which actually is a commencement speech, deals with the topic of Romance. And I get it. I felt it did a fairly good job describing my lifestyle: open to the joys of life, in whatever form they may mold – music, nature, solitude, poetry. Like I said – I get it. When not bogged down by family strains, I embrace those joys of life: the dawn of a new day, the colors of a sunset, the uncertain adventures taken in life, the tune of a strummed or hammered dulcimer, the acceptance of dogs unconditional love. It is all beautiful.

But I do tend to lack passion. This passion is not directly spoken to by Waller, but you can feel it in his works. I discussed this with a friend over lunch, and friends idea was practice…the more you write, the more passion becomes apparent. I agree with this, but I just feel there is something more. I once learned at a soccer camp that practice made permanent. If I continue to write with lifeless allure, then my future writings will continue to embrace nothing. I think, obviously, we need to write about topics of which we devote a great deal of care, and to immerse yourself into that about which you do care. Learn it, live it, feel it, understand it. This way you can accurately defend your position with not just scholarly knowledge, but experience. This passion draws you towards certain books, events, adventures, lectures. And when you write about said experiences, your words flow from your mind faster than your fingers can write. There is such energy emitting from your pencil, others feel rather than read your writings. Back to the Waller example, his essays may not have dealt directly with things which interest me, but I felt emotion boil up inside as I experienced his words.

So, my question…where is my passion? (rhetorically speaking) Where are the emotional ribbons I need to weave through my words? What do I care so much about that I am leaving feelings rather than ink? I like many things, sure: natural freedom, local produce, French lifestyles, panting dogs, irresistible food, sensational grace. Yet I feel I lack that extra oomph to passion. I’m not upset over this, just in awe. I pray perhaps this realization will spark a desire to deepen my knowledge in said areas, so I too can write with the emotional conviction seen in so many writers (Kingsolver, Lamott, Bryson, Quinn).

Paix, ma cousine,

Leigh