Family Outing

As we're watching Animal Planet's "Extreme Couples" this morning . . .

Henry: You know what I've had enough of?
Momma Mia: What?
Henry: Insect larva.
MM: Oh yea? Like in general, or today?
Henry: Thinks . . Thinks . . . then emphatically: In general. I mean, I've had way enough of insect larva. I'm done with insect larva.

Monday, I took the children to aquarium. It was amazing! All I had to do was work the map, make sure they didn't scatter when I wasn't looking and assure them I know EVERYTHING EVER ABOUT EVERY SINGLE SEA CREATURE IN EXISTENCE. I totally got that man. If I don't know, I can just make it up, right? They'll never know.

Honestly though, you have no idea what cute is until you've taken small children to see the dolphins. Let's just ignore the fact that I was so excited I about peed my pants, kay? We were sitting waiting for the show and each time a dolphin would break the surface even a little bit -- flash of fin, splash of tail -- they both would stand up and go, "DAAWWWFFIN! DAWWFIN! LooOOWWWK MEEYAH!" As if I wasn't focused on that pool with every single iota of my being. There was no way I was missing one single dawfin moment.

Caroline crawled into my lap early on claiming she could see better. By "see better" I think she means, "you're hair has much more interesting things to play with then just sitting her screaming about dawfins. I mean, we have a membership here. I see dawfins all the time." She giggled each time I went, "LooOOK CaroLINE! DOLPHIN! Oh, DolPHIN!" squeezing her and pointing. She would roll her eyes as if to say, "Yea, of course. We're at the dawfin SHOW." Meeyah is sooo cool.

After a bit, Henry started scooting closer, and closer. Closer. Then he put his hand on my leg. Then he put his head on my shoulder. Then he put his arm under my arm. Then at the next Dawfin sighting moment, amongst our hootin' and hollarin' (I had to explain what "hollar" meant to Caroline) he made his move, sliding under my arm to nestle into my left side. It was like going on a movie date when you're in middle school: you know he's going to make the yawning-arm-across-the-back move and you want him to hurry up and do it, but you can't jinx it, so you wait and anticipate. Once Henry felt comfy enough to snuggle up to me, I really wasn't too concerned about the dawfins. "LooOOK. There's a HENRY! And he's right here! Oh WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT HUG?!?!"

And all this was before the show even started. Then there was the dolphins and their trainers, the annoying dude mc-ing, then lizards, and sharks, and jelly fish, and pushy crowds, and puffer fish, and eels, and penguins, and sea otters and baby beluga whales and OMG WHERE THE HELL DID HENRY GO? I found him in about 2.3 seconds, we talked (I had to pull out the mommy voice), and soon he was the bestest little-sister wranglin', museum going dude I could ask for. Caroline fell asleep in my lap on the ride home. It was a big day for us all.

As we walked through the museum campus, Caroline stopping to examine flowers, birds, and the occasional shiny piece of garbage I realized something. I walk slower now. My pace has grown accustomed to the legs of small ones, to the need to stop and explore each and every outdoor adventure. As I try to answer all the questions -- what's moss? why doesn't sand compact? what's that thing in your nose? -- I do my best not to rush them. To be patient and kind, leading them towards our destination while allowing for other paths and ideas take us where they may. I don't do anything. We do everything. Want to sit down and look at the clouds and talk to me about chickens and dinosaurs? Sure, I'd love to. Because of them, I take life a little slower. I look around more, trying to find the simplest way to explain the right answers, not satisfied with the easy response. I think about my manners and my mommy. I look forward to lunch more. It's as if, even when there isn't a small hand clutched in mine and a wee one pointing out the wonders of the world, I can feel their hearts anyways. And I want to be worthy of their love.

Beginnings, Ending, and All Sorts In Between

This weekend. Oh, this weekend. Besides there being 43 people staying in our apartment, attending boring ceremonies, quaffing much wine and not sleeping near enough, it's been an amazing couple of days.

My Reign of Laughter with the Cute Baby is almost to an end. Only one week more of hot dogs, children shows, park trips, tickling, sily songs, and unqualified cuddling. I've gained an unbounded appreciation for patience. I've become a part of this family. I've had an amazing, eye-opening time. Yea, I want children, I want a family, but for now, I'll stick with the giving the back at the end of the variety. Child rearing is rewarding, but much harder then originally anticipated. Will they remember me years from now and the way I used to pick them up, spin them around, and at least try to answer every question they placed before me? Caroline uses the big girl potty all the time now, and I was a part of that. Henry knows about organic chemistry, cock fighting, and the problems of not sleeping enough. Not only are the hours great, and money sweet, but I've been important in the life of a child.

Alii has moved out. Sad! Luckily? since it was during the maddness of Ayse and Lauren moving it, we didn't have time to sit in the living room, drink too much wine and cry. She leave for Portland Tuesday then goes to Mongolia, returning to all of use in the middle of August. Who would I be, what would have happened had I not offered to store her cheese in my fridge second year? (Alii insists I'd probably be barefoot and naked in a field.) The things I've taught her, the things she's taught me are infinite and beautiful. The things we've learned together have enriched my life beyond belief, for which I'm eternally thankful. Because she's got a degree. I couldn't be prouder.

Jesse has had enough of this frozen wasteland and is returning home to his beloved San Fran. And no one blames him. We went on our farewell dinner to Bistro Zinc, where I finally emerged from under the financial burden of my European debt to him. I came to terms with the unsteady terrain of our friendship turned romance turned back again. There are some relationships that solidify only after experiencing their opposite. Yet, realizing the lesson inherent in such personal encounters tend to come too early, too late. Not with Jesse. I have grown because of him, learning to temper my words without sacrificing any of my well-founded beliefs. I've fought with him tooth and nail to maintain my mental integrity, showing him that unstability is kinda sometimes what I'm all about. He taught me to plan for travel, renewed my appreciation for fine food, and gave me the opportunity to live life in large ways that I wouldn't have realized were avaliable. He's a maven and I love that. We were waiting for our table Friday night and he leaned over, squeezed my hand and said, "Once, I would have been super up-tight and anxious about the delay. I've learned to let it go, to relax. I've learned to chill and it's amazing. You're the Queen of Chill and I learned that from you. Thanks!" My work here is done.

Ayse moved in! I'm assuming that after about a week of transition, we'll be back on our first year schedule of excessive drinking and "West Wing" watching within the month. We've had a amazing friendship, like blooms on a cactus since I collapsed in her arms with a destroyed heart that night in the dorm. She told me he wasn't worth it, that I was better than him, reassuring my shattered faith in everything, even though she didn't know me. All this while she expertly lite me a life saving cigarette and made us a couple of necessarily strong drinks. She was my lifeline and I hers. Then insert 2 years of off and on best friendness, many boyfriends that weren't worth the effort of both our hearts, many hang overs and cigarettes, the resolution of a few issues and much human growth, we finally get to live together. I'm sooo glad we've convinced her parents after years of hardwork, that I'm a good influence. Silly parents. Seriously though, I think we're ready for co-habitation, Ayse ready to get out of the dorms. I'm constantly amazed with Ayse for her strenght, resolve and insight. Also, her absolute inability to take any bullshit for me what so ever. She's been dealing with her head in a highly commendable way and maybe with her support and love I can start doing that too. Basically, it's going to be a wine-drenched, dance-party of a good-time this summer. And I'm thankful that I get to spend it with her.

Punkin! She's moved in too! I realized that we're about at the one year point: remember the skinny dipping revelations that lead to our friendship? The wine that got us past our issues? Now that Team Hyde Park has conquored Europe, gone Camping, defeated 3rd year, and consolidated into one place of residence we've got no where to go but up. I'm so lucky to be have her smiling face, inspiring joy in my life day in and day out. AND NOW I CAN CRAWL DRUNKENLY IN HER BED TO TELL HER THE NIGHTS STORIES WITHOUT THE NEED TO RIDE MY BIKE DRUNKENLY ACROSS THE HP? Well, shit son, that's about the best news I've heard all day. Plus, now we'll be able to keep bagels at the house all the time. I'm just saying.

Yitz popped into my life briefly this weekend, as he is wont to do from time to time. Our stolen hours are directly proportional to a steady increase in loving kindness. Yet, with the flucutations of distance, the making of future plans, I become both reassured and deeply skeptical at the same time. Yes, there's the beauty of the now, abundant sunshine and a deep felt connection, sincere loving support, but is that necessarily a constructive way for me to spend my emotional energy? Do I really want to become ensconced in all that bullshit involving other women? NOnononono. I know how I feel about polyamory (okay for ya'll, not so much for me) and defending my reactions, constantly guarding my heart, wondering where I fit in the schema today? How about not. For now, the periphial role seems pleasant enough, my time allocations slight but adequate. The question becomes: to work towards more or coming to accept and appreciate less? I'm inclined towards the later as I craddle my tender heart, looking for love in my own time zone. There are so many things that are so important to me that he's not part of: shows, music, camping. I'm okay with that too.

Let's not forget the Devon house kids. After Blues Fest, there was an Emergency Room trip (Dave cut his hand) turned adventure, beers and laughs, cuddling for warmth as the birds begin to sing. I find it deeply reassuring to discover that it's only Hyde Park that is suffering from a severe lack of Hippies, not the greater Chicagoland area. But there's more too it then that. There's something deeply life pleasing about discoving other people with similar, complimentary, and reciprically-reaffirming interests: a love of music, a dedication to good times, and an easy-going open heart. Shall we jam? "Oh man, this is from Umphrey's on NYE, right? God, that was sick." "OH for real dude. Yea, you were there? Me too. Goddamn." Sometimes it's a fantastically small world inwhich, maybe, I no longer came to get down, alone. Good times.

New job starts Wednesday. Let's not mention the fact that I'm nervous. Nor that I'm worried about my canvassing abilities on days of Mean Reds. How about we focus on someone named Sasha calling me yesterday to confirm when I'm coming in and to tell me that she's genuinely excited about working with me. Let's talk about global warming. Let's save the planet. Last summer was great: musical theatre with children is quite excellent. But it's not direct service. It's not addressing one of the major social justice issues: people will die without affordable housing, not with out musical opportunties as a child. Music is of utmost importance to me, my driving force and I'm oh so thankful for being able to address the problems with arts education in the public school system in a real way. But we all live on this planet. We all need clean water. And now, I'm in a much better position to do something about that then I was in heels, teaching voice less and theater warm-ups. Fun in a different way, hard in a much more rib-sticking way too. I'm up to the challenge.

Ayse claims she'll get us the internet this week since she's not working. We no longer have such constant access to Razor, with his linux-rocking, internet-steal prowress, nor Katherine and her computer magic. So, maybe after that I won't only use the internet at Cute Baby's and write posts that are longer then anyone wants to deal with. Behold the bounty of my mental-verbal-blogtastic out pourings!

With all these beginnings and endings, it's good to remember that life is what happens inbetween.

Plan for The Life. Version 1.1

There are many of things I want to do with my life. Like most everything I do, it's absolutely necessary that I try to cram as much goodness as possible into each and every second. That's why I sleep with 26 pillow, 2 fans, 2 feather comforters, and one giant stuffed elephants: for maximum dankness. And the occasional visitor. This drive for maximum good -- optimal hedon flow -- is pretty Life consuming and anxiety-producing most of the time, but the fonts of Joy I create are worth the endeavor.

What do I want? I want to work for good. I want to Live the Life I Love. I want to have a family. I want to travel. I want to teach. I want to build a house, commit myself to yoga, eat better, have kids, paint my toe nails and find the time to sing every day. I want to learn to throw pottery, make my children amazing Halloween costumes, sing in public, dance in a field, read fiction, live in France, throw swanky dinner parties, and care for my parents in their old age. I want Love I Can't Live Without, a huge garden full of organic vegetables, and a dog that adores me. It's not the ideas that present the obstacles, but the lack of a plan on how to get there. It's the lack of differentiation between what needs to be done now and what will take preparatory steps to get there that I desperately need. Direction I think the guidance counselor would call it.

I keep a running text document on my desktop that contains the most obsessive-compulsively amazing list of things I need to do in order accomplish my Life. We're talking anywhere from "figure out what I need to graduate" to "shave" and "get goood and drunk." (Or "DUUUUUUUUURNK" as the case may be.) One of the most rewarding features of this To Do List is that it's not on paper. Yet it's always there, fluid and yielding to my rapidly changing schemes and dreams. This allows for the list to morph and grow to encompass my serious addiction to lists. But more importantly, I don't want to box myself in: I can change my plans at any moment. And usually do. It's hell on boys that try to date me. (On another note, why is that they always try but never seem to succeed?)

The only problem is that lately, my life is unstable. I'm unstable. Real unstable. And while that's a whole nother barrel of fish, I will, I WILL get into that at another point. Right now I have another mission that'll help me move pass the uncertainty, while not focusing on the sad. I realized that with the rapid changes in what I want to do, who I want to be, where I want to go, keeping track of the changes of my Master Life Plan of Everything I Want to Do and Accomplish Ever has become rather difficult.

For example, my long standing plan went something like this:
graduate with a degree in sociology
go to graduate school in Austin
get a degree in non-profit business administration
open my own non-profit consulting firm for other non-profits
be a bad ass

Which is pretty non-functional right now. Still valid things that I may do, but not the Life I Love. So, I've decided to start making a Life Plan, and keeping it updated, marking changes, tracking growth.

And thusly, the following.

School

• work with Malynne on a Senior Project looking at the changes in what it means to be an "author" with the rise of one-touch web publishing in tangent with the advent of chic-flick type book for smart, capable, independent women. What's the author's gaze? Specifically targeting the evolving relationship between memoir-bloggers and their audience.
• Possibly pull a double major in Interdisciplinary Studies in the Humanities? (ISHUM)
• Graduate!

And Then . . .

Move Towards Working for Hippie Fest(s) Full Time

• Start volunteering this summer with the Chicago Mayor's Office for Special Event Coordination
• attend as many festivals as possible
• Summer Fest
  
• 10,000 Lakes
• F.U.N.K Fest
  
• Volunteer at Dunegrass
  
• attend as many shows as possible.
  
• Upcoming:
• Umphrey's and Disco Bisquits
  
• Darkstar Orchestra
• Xavier Rudd
• Recently Attended
• Tea Leaf Green
• Railroad Earth

Fleeing the Frozen North

• Austin, Texas: 3 -4 months
• crash with Bryan?
• work somewhere fun, inconsequential
• continue to be a bad ass

Which Brings me to California?

• 6 - 8 months after graduation
• stay with Vick and Lori?
• Check out Berkeley for grad. school
• intern in the jam band music industry
• Jambase?
• SCI Fidelity?
• live in a co-op
• see Yitz frequently!
  
• work at summer camps?
• continue to be a bad ass?
  

Then maybe back to ATX? Portland? Germany? Somewhere amazing I haven't even dreamed of yet? This list shall tell.

To DO, to WORK TOWARDS, but not immediate . . .

• buying another banjo (Seriously, how did my dad manage to lose my banjo?)
  
• learning to play and sing children's songs on the guitar
• go see a psychiatrist
• try not to get put on lithium

Obviously, there are other issues going on in my life, mostly involving crippling depression, attempts to flee everything, these attempts failing, these attempts succeeding, emotional dishonesty, despair, longing, loneliness, guilt, bursts of manic joy, panic, anxiety . Same ole, same ole. It's been hard to get out of bed. It's been hard to be around those I love. It's been hard not to hurt myself. I'm so full of love and feel I lack adequate outlets. Trying to love those that I do have -- only better -- has working out pretty well for me, but not as good as professional help. Again, more on that later. But, I've been saying that for a long time. Later, I'll deal with being Bi-Polar. Later, I'll find a psychiatrist who doesn't want to med me to death. Later, I'll stop hurting myself. Later, I'll stop being scared. Later, I won't be too anxious to function. Later, I'll be okay. Later, I'll . . .

And later is now. I haven't given up yet. Armed with this Plan for The Life, I figure that whatever happens, I have at least some of the other stuff tentatively figured out in life-affirming bulleted list format. And if that doesn't reassure me that all will be okay, nothing will.

Dear Prof. Haugeland,

My paper, as you can see, is late. But! for good reason.

When you passed out the final, I protested after class because I was going camping. I spent that Thursday afternoon through Memorial Day evening in Chilicothe, Illinios, dancing in a field. I attended Summer Camp, a music festival 10,000 hippies strong where mind-expanding experiences were had by all.

In short, while I did some reading (and ridiculous heurmenetics) by the campfire, I wasn't able to begin this paper until after classes on Tuesday. And by "begin this paper," I mean finish up all the reading I'd skipped before starting to write.

There's more to my tardiness than that though. Why didn't I just sit down and write the whole thing on Tuesday evening? For one, I am a busy woman who dares to schedule so much into one life it sometimes appears as if I'm consciously planning to be overwhelmed at least once a quarter.

More importantly, though, for two, I wanted to give this paper the time it deserves. As I'm sure you're aware, I didn't do so hot on the mid-term. There are many reasons why this is so, but none of them alters the fact. Not wanting to fail, I also needed to take the time to sit on my porch, drink a beer, and mull over notes and such, a luxury I didn't have the last go round. I've also learned recently that I write much more cogently when I'm not on all sorts of cough medication.

Is this paper worth all that time, effort, thinking, off-handed excuse writing? Possibly. Hopefully. Whatever the outcome of this scholastic endeavor, I want to thank you for your course. I feel I've come out of the experience with a better understanding of some of the overarching ideas presented by Heidegger, and a deep sense of how much I don't yet know. I have been inspired to continue my pursuit to understand Heidegger further because I now understand the reward his work has to offer. Thank you for making Heidegger both accessible and awe-inspiringly difficult.

I hope you have an enjoyable summer.

• Mia