Popscholar

I've been going through a bit of an introspective period (wrought with some strife too!), so I apologize for not being in touch.

Here is something that I've been grappling with recently: What do you do when you genuinely outgrow a friendship?  How much do you fight it?  At what point do you surrender?

When I sort out all of my own thoughts, I'll share them with you.  For right now, though, I welcome yours.  

And unrelated, but I know I've been tagged.  I didn't forget you, kj! 

I slacked on this last week.  Sorry, folks.  Here's this week's edition:

1. Today I went on a field trip with 18 students to the Dodge Poetry Festival.
2. The kids who went were a lot of my Honors kids from last year; they're great.
3. I heard a number of people read, but the most impressive was Tony Hoagland.
4. He writes a lot about internal struggle with the self.
5. He also writes a lot of funny, astute cultural commentary.
6. Lucille Clifton was also terrific.
7. It was the second time I'd heard her read.
8. One of my former students was so cute; she called me on my cell from the book tent because she wanted a collection of Rumi poems and she didn't have any more cash.  "I'll pay you back, Ms K!" she said.
9. I bought it for her.  Then she hugged me and told me that she felt like I was her mom, taking her shopping.
10. One of the characters in my book is based on this particular student.
11. She is a genuine sweetheart. 
12. As a 9th grader (she's now a senior), she told me that she imagined I'd have to go on bed rest if I ever got pregnant because I'm so small.  "I'll come and read to you, Ms K!" she gushed.
13. I reminded her of that promise today and she laughed, saying the offer was still valid. (And, incidentally, she wants to read  me some erotica!)

Today at therapy I was talking about how sometimes it's really hard to live the life I aspire to.  Perhaps that sounds strange, so I'll clarify.  This came out in the context of a discussion about navigating from the heart as opposed to the head in those crucial times when you want to stay clenched up and feel that you need to do so in order to "survive."  Knowing, objectively, what it means to act from the noblest place is one thing; living it consistently is another.

I understand, from my own experience, the importance of having "models"; there are certainly folks I admire greatly for their ability to marry their brilliance (intellectually) with their compassion in a way that allows for a softness of heart that isn't "corny."  Sometimes, though, I look at these folks and I think "You're too perfect!" and I start to beat myself up when I feel like I'm less than what I aspire to be.

But it's not just about these people's characters.  I harbor this little illusion wherein a mentor of mine gets up at 6 a.m. everyday, meditates, eats her yogurt (maybe with a little wheat germ), practices yoga, and makes sure all of her chakras are open.  Oh, and she is always compassionate.

If there's much truth to the above, then I have reason to feel pretty lame by comparison since I can barely get up by 7, I'm a shitty meditator, I haven't made time for yoga since I've gone back to school, and I can be a moody you-know-what at times.

Anyway, in the middle of our conversation D (my therapist) told me a story.  It took place ten years ago when she went to do a Mindfulness training weekend with Jon Kabat Zinn (whom she admires greatly).  Apparently, during one of the initial presentations (which was some sort of slide show), she looked over and caught JKZ biting his nails.

"I was like 'yes!'" she told me, laughing.  "It's just one of those little things that lets you know someone's human."

Obviously D knew that he was human, but it's refreshing to be reminded that our heroes aren't perfect.  I felt the exact same way when my former therapist, L, told me that she ate McDonald's; I was ready to have a party.

As for that person who gets up at the ass crack of dawn to salute the sun, I hope she scarfs a donut once in a while.  It would really make me feel better.

G and I just got back from seeing Dan Bern with six of our friends.  A guy named Ed Hamell (known as Hamell on Trial) opened up and he was an absolute riot.  I nearly peed in my pants I was laughing so hard.

I want to tell you about the funniest song of the evening, but I must issue a disclaimer first: Beware Ye Who Are Offended By Lowbrow, Liberal Humor (if that's you, what are you doing on my blog?!). 

Hamell sang a little tune called "Coulter's [as in Ann] Snatch."  His premise, quite simply, is that Ann's you-know-what stinks:

Chat on Meet the Press, announce it on Fox
Ann Coulter’s got one stinky box 

Now, in case you aren't convulsing yet, this line is priceless:

There are some douches that’ll never fail ya
Lest they come up against Ann’s genitalia

Anyway, I digress.

I'm glad I got my laughs in early because Dan was more subdued and somber than usual.  His new album is introspective rather than catchy.  I came away wishing that he'd mixed in some of his more upbeat material.   But, nonetheless, it was a good show, and it had been a while since I went out to hear live music.

Have a great weekend, Kids.

We shared a riotous moment in my 8th period class today...  

After finishing A Streetcar Named Desire, I raised the question of Blanche's obsession about dying of eating an unwashed grape.  Why the extreme need for cleanliness?

Someone raised a hand and said something to the effect of "Maybe she's worried that she got pregnant and that would feel like death."  (If you've read the play you know that Blanche was raped in the scene before.)

We all looked at each other, perplexed.  Pregnant?  From a dirty grape?

But then came the moment of clarity.  

"I thought you said RAPE!"

I said, "Do you distinguish between a clean rape and a dirty rape?"