Category Archives: Writing

This I Believe Draft

I have been called a communist. I have been called a socialist. I think communalist or Christian describes me more accurately than either of the other two words. But I won’t balk if anyone calls me a communist or socialist.  I embrace these two names because of the things I believe.

Because I believe that people are inherently good, I believe we could easily live together in harmony if people were willing to do a few things differently. In other words, we need to make some cultural lifestyle changes. People are generally out for themselves because our culture forces them to be. Deep down everyone is generous.  Some cultures thrive by living in community; ours just happens to be more focused on individualism. However, a few small changes could cause big ripples.

I believe we should listen when other people talk. I had a professor who once said to someone in class, “Could you start over? I forgot to listen.” I think he was being honest about a behavior that many of us suffer from on a daily basis: we don’t listen to each other. Instead of having the decency, though, to admit that we forget to listen, we pretend that we are listening all along. Sometimes we even nod our heads as if we agree with the other person, not knowing what it is we’re agreeing to. If we, as humans, truly listened to each other instead of writing our shopping lists, planning our evenings, or thinking about that joke that someone told us earlier, then the world would be much less chaotic because we would all know what other people said instead of pretending like we do. We might also learn something about other people, which in turn might make us more compassionate.

Maybe this could be partially aided if people would return to using common courtesies in their speech, like saying please and thank you. It wouldn’t hurt if we would take the time to answer the question, “How are you?” with an honest answer instead of giving the answer that everyone expects: “Fine.” One day I want to say to someone, “I am not fine. I am dying inside and my soul hurts so bad.” And I want that to be okay. I want to be able to tell people when I struggle, but I also believe we should rejoice when there is reason for rejoicing. Life is good sometimes, most times if we try hard to see the joys. We should be able to celebrate the good and lament the bad together.

I believe part of this inability to connect to other people stems from the fact that we are too in love with our possessions. Especially as Americans, we love our technology, our cars, our houses, our gadgets, and gizmos. Perhaps if we were required each year to donate our one prized possession to a homeless shelter, domestic violence shelter, or children’s home, we would understand that the things are not where our attachments should lie, but that we should become more deeply invested in each other.

If your child could take his favorite toy, donate it to another child who lives in a homeless shelter, build a relationship with that other child, and see what it feels like to be involved in another persons life, maybe we could teach our children that the world doesn’t belong to them as individuals, but it belongs to them as a society. If you would take your computer (before it completely conks out) and donate it to a battered woman who is trying to get a job to get out of her abusive household, imagine the change in her life. Maybe you even have a great business suit you could include in the package. Something as simple as saving your hotel shampoo, lotion, and soap and giving it to men’s shelter makes a big impact in someone’s life. Have you ever tried to get a job without proper bodily hygiene?  Nearly impossible.

This is why I believe in feeding homeless people: we are one bad day from the fifth floor of the VA hospital. Most of us are one bad day from homelessness, too. What happens today on Wall Street could effect you, it could effect me, or it could effect someone we know. How many homeless people are living on the streets because of one bad day? This isn’t to say that some people don’t choose homelessness. Some do. Some people consciously choose to drop out of capitalism, drop out of society, or just fade into the background. I don’t blame them. All the keeping up is hard work. Never walk past another person without making eye contact. You are no better than the teenager with scars up and down his arms, living on the street. We are all  interconnected.

Maybe we should all eat out of dumpsters. Then we could look each other in the eyes. Maybe it is a blessing that we throw away too much. No, it is heresy. We could feed a small country with what we put in the garbage can each day. Each day Americans throw away more than most people eat in a week.  We should all be more frugal.  When I was in high school, my boyfriend and I dumpster dived many times. We foraged–no, gleaned–potato chips from the dumpster behind the Seyfert’s distribution center and sold them at lunch. We used the money to pay for dates, movies, and other things we wanted but didn’t have money for. Looking back, we probably should have just given the chips away and not worried about getting money for them. We didn’t disrupt the capitalist cycle, we just reinvented it.

Maybe I am communist, because I think all people should get paid the same amount of money. The big corporate executive would be nowhere without the people who work in her factories or retail centers, and they would all be no where without the person who cleans up after them all. Where would most people be without coffee farmers, trash collectors, ministers, rabbis, and teachers? Are professional sports and big-name actors or actresses of more worth than their elementary organization sponsors? If we all got paid the same amount for doing what we are good at, then we could go about doing those things without feeling the pressure of keeping up with the Joneses, never mind that the Joneses work no harder for their possessions than we do. I suppose if we weren’t obsessed with possessions, we wouldn’t care if we couldn’t keep up with the Joneses, though.

I believe no one should look at you funny if you make change out of the offering plate at church. God doesn’t care if you only have a twenty but can only afford to give up five for the Church. God cares more that you are giving something than nothing. Remember the story of the poor widow’s mite.  God will multiply your five dollars and use it to feed and clothe the masses. Haven’t you ever read the story of the loaves and the fishes?

That story, I will add, confirms what I have been writing: life is all about sharing, gleaning, feeding, and giving what you have to others. Call it communism if you must. I will call it being like Christ.

I Believe…

  1. people are inherently good.
  2. in smelling flowers.
  3. in watching butterflies.
  4. that if everyone rode a motorcycle, we would be a much more peaceful planet.
  5. in God.
  6. tattoos make skin beautiful.
  7. in sleeping for at least 9 hours each night.
  8. that tragedies happen for a reason.
  9. that we should share what we have with people who don’t have as much.
  10. in feeding homeless people.
  11. people live the best in community.
  12. in running.
  13. reading helps us to understand each other on a deeper level.
  14. what we eat matters.
  15. that beer is good.
  16. everyone should get paid the same amount.
  17. there should be no racism.
  18. that gay people should be allowed to marry.
  19. we should think for ourselves.
  20. people should say please and thank you.
  21. we should revere our elders.
  22. we should train our children up in a calm, guiding manner.
  23. in grace.
  24. people should listen when other people talk.
  25. people should answer the question, “How are you?” with an honest answer.
  26. you should be able to make change out of the offering plate at church.
  27. vanilla malts with frosted flakes and mini marshmallows are next to heaven in loveliness.
  28. I could eat pizza for every meal.
  29. swine flu is a government scare tactic to keep us paranoid.
  30. people should be able to dress comfortably for all occasions.
  31. clothing designers should learn that not all fat women are busty.
  32. we should spend time discussing ideas and not people.
  33. each year people should have to donate their most prized possession to a homeless shelter, domestic violence shelter, or children’s home.
  34. most ill-feelings can be cured by walking in the woods.
  35. squirrels really are out to get us.
  36. when people swim they release their stress into the water with each stroke.
  37. hormones kill brain cells.
  38. most good music was made in the late 60s, early 70s.
  39. diamonds are not a girls best friend.
  40. we should still talk about AIDS and other STDs in health class, and talk about ways other than abstinence to prevent them.
  41. every child deserves a happy childhood, but does not need to be spoiled to accomplish that childhood.
  42. in equal rights for all people.
  43. we throw away too much. We should be more frugal.
  44. Chuck Taylors and Five Fingers are the world’s most perfect shoes.
  45. in gleaning out of dumpsters.

It’s Been a Long Time…

…been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time. Sure has. Nothing like a little led Zeppelin to get the day going. I am not sure I even really like Led Zeppelin, but I like this song even though I have never really understood what it was about. It’s amazing that I could listen to a song a million times, at every high school dance (the three I went to) and on the radio, and never really get the lyrics.

I suppose it hasn’t really been lonely, but it has been a long time since I have written anything. So much has happened since the last time I wrote, it seems like light years since I went to Michigan, since Merideth got engaged, since I took my comprehensive exams, since Jacob spent two weeks at our house and taught me to love disc golf, and since Dave, the little man who is fixing our house, started fixing our house.

Because so much has been going on, I feel a little life-vertigo, like no matter where I put my foot down, it will be the wrong location and everything might come toppling down. I am not saying this to sound dramatic, I just feel a bit disoriented. I don’t, however, feel stressed, though I must be because I woke up yesterday with this kink in a muscle in my back. Today it was worse. While we were walking the dogs this morning, Bec said that I have the most amazing ability to somatize my stress. I do. I would much rather have a sore muscle than to have some deadly illness like I had last winter.

I started running last winter with the intention of finishing the mini-marathon in Indy, but I got so sick I couldn’t keep running. My lungs were pissed and they were having no part of my exercising in the cold air. Well, I since have started running again, and I am up to running 4 miles at a 12-minute mile pace. I say that’s not too shabby for a fat kid. I was supposed to run this morning, but when I woke up at 5:30, it was dark outside so I slept until 6:30 and walked the dogs.

Since the last time I posted, I have taken a Nazarite Vow that will end when my dissertation is finished. I took it on my birthday, July 22, by shaving my head and spending the day relaxing and contemplating the parameters of the vow. I amended the original Jewish vow, so I am not only following it, but I also added some things of my own. For the next year and a half to two years, I am abstaining from anything containing grapes, wine, or raisins, all alcohol, cutting my hair, eating meat, caffeine, sugary foods. In the same time period, it is my goal to walk at least 5 miles each day, which can include the morning run.  I plan to start swimming three times a week next week, as well. It is also my goal to run a marathon before I turn 40. So far, I am doing pretty well with my goals, and I have been managing quite well abstaining. The side-perk is that I have lost 30-35 pounds.

I feel all rusty and weird writing. I am having a hard time being articulate and creative without feeling like I am forcing it. I guess this is why every writing book, every writer, says that writing should be something that we do every day. I suppose, too, I should actually write about the things I mentioned in the first paragraph, which is typically what one does when setting up a piece of writing. Introduction: body: conclusion.

I should start off by talking about my vacation with Merideth’s family. We stayed at Little Bear Lake Hideaway, and the lake was beautiful. I swam across it, kayaked around it, and ran or walked the road that circled it every day we were there. One day I even went around twice. Usually I was the first one up and out of the cabin, so I got to see the water all quiet and smooth before anyone else was awake to see it. The water was a clear green, and I could see my feet when I was standing up to my neck in the water. The water was also incredibly cold. Very cold. Numbingly cold.

The days went by quickly, too quickly. I could actually live up there on a lake if I could find a job that would sustain me. We went to Gaylord, the closest fairly large town, three times and ate lunch at three decent diners. We went to Lewiston and ate at Talley’s Bar, and Merideth and I went to a little bar by the Outpost for coffee while Josh got Merideth’s clothes ready to go to Mackinac Island.

On Wednesday, we went to the island, and all day Merideth kept talking about wishing she could stay at the Grand Hotel. Finally, when the kids got tired, we walked up to the hotel and pretended we were all going to look at the porch. Little did she know, but Merideth and Josh were staying at the hotel. And, she also didn’t know he was going to propose to her. He did, and she said yes. They are getting married next June 5, and I am performing their wedding on a beach in Florida.

When I got back from Michigan, Bec’s nephew, Jacob, came and stayed with us for two weeks. We painted the outside of the house, which still is not completed, and we pulled up the carpet in the downstairs. We had tons of good conversation, and Jacob cooked dinner for us a few times. The best part of his stay were his disc golf lessons.

Nearly every afternoon, Jacob and I walked down to McCullough Park and pitched some discs. For an hour and a half or so each day, we just chilled and threw discs … and occasionally went poo-diving. Poo-diving happens when someone throws a disc into the drainage channel that runs along the edge of the course. We call the channel, the poo channel, because it is one of the ones that may or may not contain sewage when the storm sewers overflow. I only had to go poo-diving once, but Jacob had to go several times. Yum.

Jacob and I removed the carpet from the downstairs while Dave, the little man that is fixing and rewiring our house, redid the ceiling in the living room. About two weeks ago, he told us that it would only take a couple more days to finish the work, but I think he bit off more than he thought he was biting off with our rewiring. It has been a huge project and most of it had to happen through the uninsulated attic, so for a few days he couldn’t do much because of the intense heat. I can tell you, though, that I am ready for it to be finished, so we can start putting our house back to normal. I want to bring my couch in from the porch.

I took my comps last week and will know by Labor Day whether or not I passed. I am not confident that I did. The hard part about thinking that I may have failed is that I also got a job teaching American Literature at Burris one period a day. If I don’t pass my comps, I don’t get to teach at Burris next semester. If I don’t get to teach there next semester, I lose my foot in the door. And, I want to teach middle school English there next year! I keep trying, in the spirit of my Nazarite vow, to let God be in control and to trust what [They] are doing, but that is so hard for me. It is hard for me to realize that I am not in control, that God is.

I suppose another major event in my life is that my pastor is leaving. Last Sunday was his last Sunday to speak. I was fine until at the end of his message he remarked that he had been at our church for five years, and that it had been a good five years. Then I cried. I cried pretty hard through the last worship set, and then again once it was over. Of course, he came over and harassed me, when I was reading my book to stop myself from crying more, by singing, “I have my books and my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.” It’s true, but I am trying to become less of a rock, less of an island. I am trying hard to let people in. I suppose that is why my back has a huge knot in it.

Two Year Old Parties. Greek Church. Running.

This weekend was full of excitement and nostalgia. Friday got it off to a bang with a practice test for the comps, workshopping with Sarah and Elizabeth, and a dinner with reading at Kellie’s. The vegetarian jambalaya was fantastic!

On Saturday, we went to Izzy’s second birthday party, which was a celebration of all the things she loves: balls, Dora and Diego, rubber-duckies, shoes, and pizza!

We bought her a game that goes with the book The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. I read the book out loud to some of the people at the party. I know they loved it despite their protests when I started to read it for a second time. We also bought her a million (exaggeration) little rubber toys for the tub. Ducks. Fish. Frogs. They all spit water from their little puckered mouths. And, we got her a football, small enough to fit her hands, but big enough to really throw. She got a bunch of other stuff from other people.

Her presents from my brother and from Alex were the best; they got her pink high-top Chucks and a little, ruffly sun dress, respectively. Who knew boys could shop so well for little girls. I think it may be because both of them secretly want children of their own! They both deserve the best in life, so I know they will find it. I have never met two more amazing single guys! She also got a HUGE rubber-ducky from some other friends. It was pretty sweet except it was a little creepy because it looks like it is staring at you no matter where you point its head. I would still love it if I was Iz.

Back to the party. We ate lots of pizza. I ate mostly cheese pizza. And, we broke a piñata that was shaped like a shoe. Of course, Abs made the best cakes: Dora with a waterfall and mountains, a baseball, rubber-ducky cupcakes, and shoe-shaped cookies. I got a bit of a sugar overload as I over0indulged. Since I haven’t been eating much sugar lately, I think it made me pretty sick, but it was good cake!

*

On Sunday, my family and I went to Holy Apostles Greek Orthodox Church in Indianapolis. The priest, Fr. Dean, who spoke reminded me of the priest in South Bend when I was little. He was fun, funny, relevant, and poignant. He reminded the Greeks who are founding this parish that they needed to work hard to get it started, but he also reminded them that their work is sanctified. He, like the last priest that spoke, was from Detroit. I can say that if I lived in Detroit, I would have my choice of parishes to attend, not like here in Muncie, where I have to drive to Indy to go to the Orthodox Church.

My uncle asked me if I was ready to be baptized in the Orthodox faith. I didn’t have to think about it. I am ready.

He said, “I would be your god-father,” which is funny coming from an older, completely bald guy who isn’t much taller than I am.

“Of course,” I said, “who else would I ask? Of course, I want you to be my god-father!”

He beamed. To put this in perspective, Reader, I should ask if you have ever seen The Princess Bride. You know the little bald guy, who is friends with Andre the Giant? That is my Uncle George, complete with the lisp. He will be my god-father.

My questions about this are: 1) Do I have to take classes? 2) Do I get to choose my own baptismal name? 3) Do I have to kiss the priest’s hand when I take communion? 4) What are the differences between Orthodox and other theologies? 5) How does this all work? I have so many questions because I don’t want to sign up for something I don’t believe in simply because I am ethnically Greek.

I love the way the Greek church smells. The incense is a pleasing fragrance to the Lord, I am sure. In the small, bare chapel where Holy Apostles has its services, I can transport myself back to the beginning of the Christian centuries and imagine myself worshipping with the early believers. With all of the sacramentalism and ritual, I picture Peter and Paul attempting to meld together their Jewish heritage with this new covenant, and trying to work the Eucharist into their already established Jewish customs.

What results is a seemingly over-the-top representation of Christ to the people, which can, at times, be a little off-putting. However, with the liturgy taking place in such a small, archaic chapel with wooden pews and only two icons in the room, I can imagine how Peter and Paul wrestled with retaining the liturgy and their Jewish customs while transferring their new beliefs to everyday people.

The ceremony which initially seems to be too ornate and ostentatious is, in fact, the way the Word is related through the body of the priest to the body of God’s Church. The priest relates the Christian story in the same way each and every Sunday; the only things that change are the Biblical readings for week, working slowly through the entire Judeo-Christian story. Through the multiple kyrie eleisons and Lord, have mercys, I learn my salvation again and again. Isn’t that the point of church?

*

Today, I got up and walked the dogs, then I continued my new running program. It is going quite well. Hopefully, by the time school starts, I will be ready to run a 5K and not die halfway through. My goal is to run a 5K road race sometime in September or October. I hope to run a mini-marathon by next spring or early summer, then sometime around my next birthday (when I will turn 36), I would like to run a full-length marathon. I hope it happens. I really want to say I ran a marathon before I turn 40. That is really my goal. I hope it happens. I have no unrealistic expectations. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen.

*

Now it is 1PM, and I have to study. This week is Early American literature, better than the Renaissance, but not as good as what is coming. I seem to prefer literature after the 1700s, the rest is just background!

What I Should Be Doing vs. What I Do

I should be studying for my exams.

I should be writing for my workshop group.

I should be doing what I know I need to be doing.

Instead I am fretting over all of it and making no kind of headway on actually getting it done.

Every time I go to the bathroom, Ordinary Genius looks at me from the tub-rim. I leaf through it and put it down.

When I come into the bed room, stacks of Norton anthologies stare me down from their place on the bookshelf. I spend less time with them than I should. They don’t let me forget.

I go for walks. I peel paint. I pull up carpet. I wish I had time to go through everything once and for all.

I wish I could donate my life to the Goodwill. Maybe some one else could figure out how to use it more effectively. They would recycle it. They would be glad to have all this stuff, all this pressure, all these worldly things.

I just want a Volkswagon Van or a big old truck with a cap, Bec, my dogs, my bathing suit, some overflowing dumpsters with lots of good food, and the beach. That is all I tell myself I need.

*

Really, I am pretty happy right now. I just hit these little bumps in the road where I think I need to be doing something different than what I am doing. Talking with Sarah this morning helped me keep my career choice in perspective, because I am doing what I love: reading and writing. And, I am doing it with other people who also love it, and I am teaching it. Hopefully, I even influence some of my students to love it, too. What could be more fulfilling than that? I just need to figure out how to escape to the beach once a year to restore my soul…