Cracker Barrel; Red One; Goals

Yesterday for Thanksgiving dinner, my Dad, my brother, and I went to Cracker Barrel and then went to the movie theater to watch Red One. My mom was the one who was the most invested in our holiday feasting, so when she passed a few years ago, our holiday meals changed substantially, and I continued going to Minnesota for Thanksgiving for the most part, so I could spend Christmas here in Indiana with Dad and Adam. The first Christmas after she died, Dad wanted Chinese buffet, so we went to Yummy Grill and Buffet and ate crab rangoon and bad lo mein until we were too full of cream cheese, fake crab, and noodles to worry about the fact that Mom had died twelve days before. We added in a movie because what else do you do when the person who carries the joy is gone.

Red One was really a great holiday flick. I won’t spoil the details of the movie for you, but my mom would have loved its Christmas cheesiness, and a couple of times I got really choked up thinking about how she would have been cheering and yelling at the screen like several of our fellow movie goers. Mom was one of those people who clapped at the end of movies, like the actors on screen could hear her. She also loudly gave instructions to the characters about how they could thwart danger or how they could save the day. I like to think she loves the fact that we all go together to movies more now, since I have learned to tolerate the loudness and flashingness of them. I wish I’d have accomplished that while she was still alive, because I am sure she would’ve loved another movie going partner. I take her with me now, though, so I guess we grow in weird ways in weird timing.

I love Cracker Barrel. I know that isn’t a popular opinion, but their chicken and dumplings, when they are on point, are one of things my little carbohydrate-loving heart craves the most. The dumplings are sticky and thick, the broth is rich and with a little pepper is perfect, and the chicken is tender and moist. The sides are a bit underwhelming, but when I can get mashed sweet potatoes and fried okra without having to figure out what to do with the leftovers, I will take them a little less good than I can make at home. Yesterday, for their special menu, and probably until Christmas, they have Sugar Plum Sweet Tea, which is maybe one of the best drinks I’ve had at casual dining, though it was even a bit sweet for me.

I was amazed by how many people were both at Cracker Barrel and the movie theater, but I also loved that so many people were with their families. There were so many big tables seated at CB that I had to smile and think about all of the love in that place. People were smiling, talking with each other, laughing, and generally enjoying each other’s company in a way that I don’t see as much I would like. At the theater, people were being polite, sharing popcorn, chatting with their family and friends. Some days I get a glimpse into what I love about this world. And I needed that yesterday. I need it every day. But I especially needed it yesterday.

For Christmas, we’re going to try our hand at making an indigenous feast with foods found native in Indiana. We’re starting with deer steaks that Dad was gifted by a neighbor and building from there. Suggestions are always welcome, but the ingredients must be decolonized and indigenous to the Midwest, preferably to Indiana.

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I know my last post was a bit dark. I am trying really hard to figure out how to stay out of that space in my brain, but I have been feeling really overwhelmed since August. “Brian,” my brain when he misbehaves, has been working on overtime mayhem lately, but I have finally caught up on all of my school work, so I think it may be better now. As an ennagram 4w5 (might as well just call myself a 4/5), sometimes I see bits of joy or hope, but I am a little afraid to get too excited about them, or to seize them, because, well, surely sadness will just follow, right? I am working on that too. I want to be hopeful and joyful in a new way in my life. Since the new year starts, in my way of thinking and according to the church calendar, on this coming Sunday with the First Sunday of Advent, I figured why not just put my goals or aspirations or hopes for 2025 out here today; some of them are carry over from 2024, because I didn’t do so well accomplishing them.

  1. Love more. Give and receive more hugs. Tell people, “I love you.”
  2. Be more honest and vulnerable, and trust people to love me. Set better boundaries, tell people when they hurt me, hear them when they tell me I hurt them. Listen to people and believe what they tell me.
  3. Move more. Swim. Bike. Walk. Run. Hike. Dance. Wobble. Play with Luna.
  4. Read and write more. Read the Bible, books, newspapers, magazines. Write about things: gratitude, anger, grief, frustration, hopes, dreams, joy, memories, visions. Start a rage and hope journal.
  5. Practice moderation in consumption. Eat in moderation. Buy in moderation. Use technology in moderation.
  6. Be sober and be present.

Thanks giving. Grateful, Thankful, Blessed.

On this Sunday before Thanksgiving, I am at school sitting at my desk grading papers with the fluorescent lights off and only a little LED lamp that my mother-in-law bought me for Christmas one year plugged in and shining brightly. I would like to be caught up on my grading before I leave for Minnesota for break, but I know that I will only be closer to caught up, because I am still so far behind. I am the furthest behind I have ever been in my professional career. And I am not actually sure I will get caught up in time which is a scary feeling actually. I am not really sure what got me this far behind.

Unless it was cross country season where I spent nearly every Saturday in a bus and outside in the hot sun for hours watching middle schoolers run. Unless it was the addition of a lot of new expectations for communication with people which wears me out in a way I can’t explain. Unless it was my own mental health not allowing me to use every weekend for work because I needed some time to not think about teaching. Unless it was my own relentless struggle with my faith and how to live it in this world. Unless it was that I am paralyzed with fear about the next four years and beyond because let’s be real no one is doing any real systemic thing to try to change this world and it’s functioning exactly as it has been built to function, Capitalistically.

I recently bought a new t-shirt from a former coworker who makes their living by screen printing shirts and being an artist, perhaps one of the new, and last, noble professions. They always make some shirts that donate money to different causes, an admirable thing to do. The most recent shirt I bought from them is the softest, most beautifully colored, best fitting olive green tshirt with an image of a Ball/Mason jar with a black ant and a red ant inside it. They designed the tshirt to reflect Kurt Vonnegut’s famous scene from Cat’s Cradle in which one character say to another: “‘What he was doing was spooning different kinds of bugs into the jar and making them fight.’ The bug fight was so interesting that I stopped crying right away–forgot all about the old man. I can’t remember what all Frank had fighting in the jar that day, but I can remember other bug fights we staged later on: one stag beetle against a hundred red ants, one centipede against three spiders, red ants against black ants. They won’t fight unless you keep shaking the jar. And that’s what Frank was doing, shaking, shaking, the jar.'” I like to think about my shirt in regard to Henry David Thoreau’s observation of ants in Walden, once at war they will simply kill each other until there is nothing left. And the fight is unsettling to watch. We are the ants in both scenarios. As both authors make clear. We’ve been spooned into a jar and the jar is being shaken to shit by systemic nonsense while we simply try to kill each other, metaphorically, of course, because literal killing is frowned upon, unless the person happens to be different than—and usually less powerful than—we are.

Why am I writing today of all days about being behind and about humants? Well, I haven’t written here for a really long time, and it’s almost thanksgiving, and I usually want to be thankful at this time. But this year I am really struggling to find the good in this world. Really. Struggling. Are there things for which I am grateful, thankful, blessed (as the good Christian folk say)? Yes. I am thankful for existing. I am thankful for family and friends. I am thankful for a job. I am thankful for my dog. I am thankful for the sunrise and sunset, the stars and moon, the trees and grass, the water and the land. I am thankful for shelter, food, intellect, students, coffee, and I could go on and on making a list of a million things for which we should all be grateful, thankful, blessed. For which I am thankful.

What I am thankful for pales in comparison to the terror I hold at living life every day as my authentic self in this world right now. I could even explain how the smallest most mundane things thrill me and how people look at me with suspicion when I talk about how in love with this physical world I am when seeing an egg broken on the ground with ants feasting inside on the yolk that is stuck sticky on the sides. Or how people dismiss me when I explain how the lavender of the soy bean fields is my favorite color in this whole wide world. Or how people can’t see that this world is on fire in so many ways, big and small, macrocosmically and microcosmically. We can’t sustain this. We are bifurcated and shored up on those two sides. Everything is not a binary. We don’t talk with each other anymore. We don’t try to be curious or seek understanding. We’ve been made to fear the other. Fear breeds anger breeds fear breeds anger breeds fear… eventually we simply hate.

So, where does this leave me? At a precipice. Do we move forward as if nothing is happening, or do we figure out now how to get caught up, how to live a life we love, how to be grateful, thankful, blessed for the small things, how to right the systems that make us into humants? How do we begin to undo the damage of hatred and separation that is the hallmark of this time period? Do we start a conversation with someone not like us? Do we dare, DARE, share a meal with someone on the other side? Maybe a meal like some bread and wine?

Tomorrow is 123123

Well, this has truly never happened to me before, but I wrote my ideas for goals for 2024 less than a month ago, and I came here today to read them, and I find them to be absolute bull shit. Who was that December 2 woman? I will never reach those lofty goals. I barely want to read them through again, because they are so overwhelming. Why would I even try to do all that to myself!?

Maybe it’s because tomorrow’s date is one for the ages… won’t happen for what, another 100 years? Maybe the countdown (or count up) is what I need to give me a boost. No, what I need on 123123 is to scale back my own expectations for myself. I’ve always been a bit of a slacker, Gen X or no, because I was the person who would do just enough to get the A. Why get 100% when a 90% got you the same grade? An A is an A, and I wasn’t in line to get any great accolades for grades, like I certainly wasn’t valedictorian material or anything, nor would I have wanted to be. I quit my PhD, after passing my comps, because writing was overwhelming while simultaneously being less than stimulating.

On 123123, I want to refocus. Be more basic and not in the white girl at Starbucks kind of way. I want to simplify my expectations for myself and others. I find that my expectations are always loftier than anyone can reach. I need to learn to put aside what I think I want things to be and just appreciate what those things actually are. Being present in the moment makes it so much easier to feel joy.

So here are my goals for 2024:

  • Love more: Give and receive more hugs. Tell people I love them.
  • Be more honest and more vulnerable: Set better boundaries, tell people when they hurt me. Listen to people and believe what they tell me.
  • Move more: I need to get back in the pool. I need to walk more. Maybe some of it will be rucking, because I do love that weighted feeling.
  • Read and write more: Read some bible, read some books, and write sometimes.
  • Eat less and savor more: Be conscious of what I put into my body.
  • Be sober and be present more: Don’t do things that will hurt me, like drink alcohol.

This list is do able. There are no specifics. I am not hemmed in. And it fits who I want to be. I want to be present (sober, honest, vulnerable), loving and kind (hugs, reading, and writing), and physically well (eat less and move more). So, I plan to focus on things that matter to me, and the thing that will help me exist more fully in this world.

Presence.

Love and kindness.

Wellness.

More.

What’s Coming Up in 2024

As usual, around this time of year, I am thinking about what is next, what’s coming up in this year. I have some goals—some are the same I’ve had, some are ones I’ve considerd in the past, and some are new—and plan to take a bit of space to think through them.

  1. Get up at 5AM every day. Walk a mile with Luna. Read a Psalm and some Bible before meditating. 
  2. Read (fiction) and write every day. Watch one (at most) TV show or movie each night. 
  3. Ruck 30 minutes with some hills every evening. Eat good food and less of it. Make sure to have breakfast and lunch. Drink more water. 
  4. Be sober. 
  5. Start my podcast.

I have long had a desire to get up at the same time of day each morning. I’ve read a lot about how beneficial it is to wake up at a set time each day. I am going to go for 5AM, because then I can walk a mile with Luna and do my other morning things without the pressure of time. I don’t have to be at work until 8AM, so that gives me a full three hours of time to get myself acclimated to the day before I have to work. And it gives me 2.5 hours before I even have to be around other people. This large amount of time will also allow for time to read a Psalm and a couple of other chapters in the Bible each morning before I meditate for 10 minutes—I’d like to work up to 20 minutes each morning by 2025.

The next goal is one that has stumped me for years. I want to read some fiction or poetry every single day. I read a lot of nonfiction of all kinds, because it is my favorite, but I don’t read a lot of fiction, and maybe that is why I am not as creative as I’d like to be. Creativity is essential for the other half of this goal. I want to write every day. I am trying to decide if I want to write here, in a private file, or in a notebook each day. My eventual goal is to try to have some kind of memoir-like thing. In order to make this goal happen, I’ll have to watch fewer TV shows and movies, which is part of this goal.

Another goal is to ruck 30 minutes each day after school to wind down before I head home, which pairs with my goals of staying sober, eating breakfast and lunch, and drinking more water. On December 27, I will have been sober from alcohol for two years, and I’ve abstained from some other things for over a year, and some for less than that. I am proud of myself for improving my health in this way, and I think it’s safe now to add back in being vegan. My plan, this time, is to be vegan at home and most of the time when I go out, but if there isn’t something vegan, or if I am visiting someone, or if we go somewhere special, to be flexible and not be a pain in the ass about it, but also to not eat meat. I had been vegan for two years, then had a craving for wings and ate them, then it seemed like too much to ask myself to go back to being vegan, when I was already trying so hard not to drink alcohol. Rucking is a physical exercise that can help me get into better shape while also helping me experience nature, which I hold so dear. And, I am hoping that this exercise will also encourage me to eat better adn drink more water, both things I struggle with.

My biggest goal for 2024 is to start the podcast that I have been wanting to do for the past several years. I have narrowed my many ideas down to two, and I am trying to narrow it down to just one, based on the one that will bring me the most joy, and bring some good into the world. I am leaning toward interviewing ordinary people about ordinary things, choosing five questions to ask my interviewees, while also giving them the opportunity to ask me any question they want, on the spot, at the end of the show. My biggest worry was how expensive the equipment might be for this, but I listened to a podcast called “How to Start a Podcast” by BuzzSprout, and the equipment I’ll need is available for under $500. Some of it, I already own, so I won’t have to spend much at all. Now I just need to get going.

What is a place you love and why?

Once again, this prompt comes from Rachel Greig’s website. What is a place I love? I love so many different types of places, this one is hard to narrow down. Chicago is high on my list, as well as Inverness, but so is Washington Island, and even Fort Benjamin Harrison State Park and Pike Island, which is part of Fort Snelling State Park. I love them all for different reasons, because Chicago is my first big city love, Inverness is a big place that feels slow and personal, Washington Island is hopefully my future home, and the state parks, well, they stand in for all the places I feel close to nature.

If I have to choose one place to say is my most favorite place, I would have to say anywhere that I am with people around whom I can be utterly and totally myself. Whether that is in a huge city, like Chicago where I can get lot in the noise, bustle, and confusion, or whether it is in the woods on an island where I can distantly hear my heartbeat between the birds chirping and the waves crashing on the shore. I guess mostly what I want to talk about is my experiences in the places I love and the people with whom I have spent time there.

When my wife and I first started realizing we were interested in each other in more than a platonic way, we went to Chicago to see an art exhibit at the Chicago Art Institute. I remember being elated to feel warmth of her simply standing next to me as we looked at so many Van Goghs and so many Gaugins. When her arm would brush up against mine, I felt so comfortable and finally at home, a feeling that never has gone away through any ups or downs we may have had. I feel like calling it butterflies is cheesy, but when I think about her and this trip, I remember how new and beautiful our love was and it makes me feel nostalgic and at peace.

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I guess, after not publishing this when I wrote it and when I look back at this several months later, I recognize that every place I list in the first paragraph is somewhere I love to be with my wife, so really she is my favorite place. There is no other place I’d rather be than with her, doing anything, wherever.