I did not start out writing these posts as a means to entertain anyone in particular, or, in general for that matter. But, so it would seem, any one thing that begins as "introspective," evolves into something else, something "bigger" and, by virtue of its size, it reaches out to many, whether that was its intention or not.
I love this blog and I have enjoyed sharing my thoughts and feelings with all of you about too many topics to consider just now. But, I think that it is time for a new chapter, both literally and figuratively. And so, this is my last entry on this site. I have decided to compile many of these entries, along with a whole new "slew" of my rather disquieting thoughts into a book. I will, most likely, publish it as an ebook first and then I will begin to sort through the process of putting it all together as a bigger project. I am also going to include some material that I did not want to publish here on the internet as a blog "post," some material that requires a different kind of formatting. In addition, when I do publish the ebook and it begins to sell, and I am assured that it will (we don't need to go there), please know that I will always, indefinitely, donate a portion of any money made to one of my favorite non-profit groups, those who work toward a cure, toward understanding, toward eliminating hunger and thirst, toward deepening my love and respect for humankind.
Lately, in the news, there have been stories of extreme violence, despair and, of personal heartbreak. While I would like to comment on all of these individually and as a whole, I think that these issues are also best addressed in a different format, perhaps for a more selective audience. I would like to say though that, as a person, I try very hard to look at each person as an individual, rather than as part of a group. And, there are a lot of abhorrent, disturbed and cruel individuals in our society; some stand on the street corner, some stand in an office or as the leader of a group and some stand in the House and in the Senate. I try very hard not to let this sway my overall opinion of the human race and how much good there still is and can be. I try, and, like you, sometimes I fail and I cry out for vengeance and sacrifice. I have to remind myself of the good because without it, what is the point of going on? Without good, there is no hope and to live a hopeless life, well, just look around you, people do it every day. I don't want to live that way and I don't want my children to have to either.
Thank you for your kind comments and your generosity in all of the endeavors that I have, sometimes rather ungraciously, wrapped you in; you seemed to accept this facet of my personality as an "that's just the way she is" fact. Thank you for taking the time to read these posts and for allowing me a place to vent and cry and laugh, albeit virtually... Thank you for asking for more, and if you continue to do so, I will write more and I will let you know when and where. If you are reading this for the first time or, if you have been reading this blog and haven't joined, please click Join so that I can forward you a new URL and/or the title of the book when it is finished. If not, no harm either way. Almost 5 years of entries and, it is time to change direction...
Take care of one another, of the environment, of children, of animals, of yourselves. Be kind when warranted and, if need be, tell people to "Go to Hell" or "Fuck off" whichever one of those is more appropriate. I have made many mistakes and I will continue to do so and, above all, I sincerely hope that you are along with me for the rest of the ride as I do.
Be honest, sincere, have integrity and for Fuck's sake... READ more! That is for you Mr. Bell...
All my love for a good year for us all.
This last entry is dedicated to two very important people; the first is a woman who probably doesn't know how much of an influence she had on me when I was growing up. I think of her every day and pray for her health. Jessica Comeaux Burden, one of the loveliest human beings ever to walk this earth - I love you very much. And, the second is a man who won't read this, but who knows, who has always known how much I respect and love him because he is one of the most kind, gentle and warm people I have ever had the privilege to know, my father in law, Thomas Hawley. I admire and love him more than I can say.
Be well. Hope to see you soon...
Yvette Hawley
El Camino College
Monday, December 29, 2014
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Maybe it's time...
That sentence starter sums up the story of my life. Maybe it's time to... go to the gym, learn to cook, walk the dog, read to the maniac, stop fucking around and do something that pushes me outside of the comfort zone in which I find myself treading imaginary life threatening quells these days. The comfort zone is a concrete refrigerator box that forces me to move quickly in a space that simultaneously forces me to curl up into myself. I suppose it would be like being dropped into a well that held just enough water to consistently place pressure on my chest, forcing me to be still but at times to breathe heavily as I tried to figure a way out. Or maybe, I can't get out and it's time to let someone reach in and extend a hand to help me...
I'm not good at asking for help and because of that fact, I fuck things up on a regular basis. I forget important documents, I lose things, I type in the wrong codes and sign up for subscriptions or Survey Monkey jobs that I never wanted. I give out my personal information freely on the internet, blindly trusting anyone who is smart enough to figure out that I use the same password on every single sight I enter. I'm not giving anything away by disclosing that; I'm just confirming what the hackers, who, incidentally, are cracking up as they stare at my bank account, my blood test results or my bills that continue to rot in collection, already know. I don't like to ask for help for the same reason that I like to give help - I want to decide what and who and how and when. I want to dictate what happens and I don't like, never have, anybody, ever, telling me what to do. Some people might think that means that I have a big ego or some people might think that I am conceited, but the truth is, I couldn't survive in a world - a job, a marriage, a friendship where someone was constantly ordering me around. On some level, to me, asking for help is deferring to the "higher" up, admitting that I cannot do it all myself and, really, admitting defeat. I am a good sport, but I also don't like to lose. I never set out to tell myself that it's okay to come in second place. If I do, well, that's ok, but I don't have to like it.
Along the same line of thinking is the notion of sexism and sexist behavior that I have experienced over the years. It has made me rely more on my female counterparts than on my male counterparts, although I have many male friends and influences, but I think I have deep scars when it comes to the notion that I feel as though I am forced into a position where I have to defend myself, just because I am a woman. The interesting notion about that claim is that people have told me that I just "thought that it was said like that" or, I just "heard it wrong." But, I can name dozens of instances where my knowledge, my background, my experience, my opinions have been questioned by people, who I guarantee, would never have questioned me if I were a man. Maybe it's the field of higher education; maybe some students just think that being a professor or an administrator is a man's job, which is completely asinine when one considers that claim, but nonetheless, I am speaking in terms of a gray area in which I have often found myself, not in absolutes of black and white. Having this perspective has also given me extreme compassion toward others. I know that my love and desire to help people comes from the same place where I hold in my frustration and tinges of sadness when I feel as though I am challenged or unappreciated, to put it mildly. That same place has opened up my mind and heart to people, places, events and experiences that I would have never known had I limited my responses to "Yes Sir" or "Well, you have a point." Interestingly, I am talking about students, family members and people in the community. I see it everyday. I have experienced it everyday. I try to help others find a way away from it everyday, just like I try to move away from it.
Maybe it's much more than just being a woman or, maybe that has nothing to do with it at all. Maybe it's just the way I was raised or my own insecurities or maybe I just continue to let people take advantage of me because despite my bravado at times, I am nothing but a big sensitive crybaby most of the time; well, not most of the time. If you irritate me or piss me off, that sappy bitch gets thrown back down the well and Ninja Mom/Teacher/Friend/Righter of Social Injustices takes over. Might make for an interesting Halloween costume next year.
Maybe it's time to recognize that some people don't change, regardless of how much you want them to or how much you thought that they loved you. It might be time to ask yourself how much of a "beating" you are willing to take before you put a stop to it. Maybe it's time to really digest the idea that life is not a blue ribbon in the spelling bee or the homecoming queen crown being placed on your head; those are just merely moments, instead, life is a bloody knee that gets infected or a round of chemotherapy that leaves you ravaged and blindly incapacitated. Maybe life is both a first kiss and a child left abandoned on the side of the road, a set of swings occupied by two elementary school children who are flying and laughing so hard that one doesn't hear the sound of the chain as it snaps and she is catapulted through the air instantly splayed across the blacktop, while the other one continues to swing. Maybe it's violence and peace, love and hate and maybe, we aren't supposed to have too much control over one or the other because if we did, then what would be the point of failing, of falling, of developing a true self-awareness.
A student challenged my authority last night; he refused to hear what I was saying and his blatant disregard for my perspective was both disrespectful and infuriating. It has been said many times, in film, in literature, in politics, in economics, in education, the sentiment, to the effect, that, in order to appreciate your own freedom, in this case of speech, one has to be able to stand in a room with the one person whose ideas boil his blood down to the core and he not only has to stand, but he has to allow that other person the time and the space to express himself freely. When and if we can do that, then we have earned the right to appreciate what it means to have the freedom of speech. Clearly it doesn't apply if you only ever surround yourself with those with whom you agree, or, with those who would rather insult you than listen to your words. I can tolerate a lot of things, as do others on a daily basis around the world, but, if I, and I do, as a regular practice, exercise restraint and fairness, a willingness to listen to all points of view then by everything that is important to me, I deserve the same in return. Last night, I didn't feel that way. I tried very hard not to lose my temper nor to lower myself to a level of argument that would have made any critical thinking teacher wince. I just simply reached a point where I could no longer try to have a conversation with this student because, from the start, he was only hearing himself. It felt, at the end, like I was speaking to a dog in dog obedience training; I had given up on any kind of reasonable explanation and instead, had to resort to simple, monosyllabic words like "No" and "Fine." I have to admit that it has been awhile since I have felt like that. Oh sure, every semester there are moments of difficulty and challenges that I would rather avoid, but usually students are respectful because they feel respected in my classes. I'm still sarcastic, I'm still a bitch and sometimes I still go full tilt, 100 mph, but, I try to see "it" from their points of view and I expect the same in return. If I treat them like my future colleagues, most of them stand up a little taller and accept that challenge, even offering me insight into things that I had missed or had forgotten. They return that treatment in kind, most of the time. Last night was the exception and it left me bitter and angry and a little sad so that by the time that I returned home, I was someone different than I was earlier in the day. I had trouble sleeping last night and today I've been lethargic and less than amiable. Maybe it's time to let it go...
Or maybe it's time to step up and ask myself if it's worth it. If I only had a handful of years left, what would I do with them? Give them away to students like the one last night? Even for a few precious minutes, or, would I... will I, consider that, for every single choice that I make, in every day for however long I am fortunate enough to live this life, remember that my life has both purpose and a purpose. Through experiences like last night and others that are positive and negative, I keep moving toward my final destination, where, on a day, I will stand and defend myself and the choices that I've made in this life. I ask myself that question, that I know one day God will ask of me, "Why...?" and maybe it will have been about how I treated people, or if I were kind or if I tithed and volunteered enough, or maybe, it will only be "Why were you so hard on yourself?" While that's highly doubtful, it's a nice thought.
Maybe it's time, at 45, to realize that the climb itself is ending. There may be a few hills left here and there, but the peak is beneath me now instead of ahead of me, and as I begin my descent, however quickly or slowly, I will try to remind myself that my life is bigger than just me. My life is that refrigerator box ripped wide open by children and rain and wind and creativity and love, most of all by love. My life is made of up of so many pieces, so many colors; I just wish that I took the time to appreciate all of people and experiences that comprise it. I wish that so many things were different in the world, but I also wish that things would stay just as they are, with my three boys sleeping soundly in their beds, safe from harm, here at home, no one else involved, just the five of us, and the pug...
Maybe it's time to plan the trip down the slope, to set a few more big goals and a lot of little ones. Maybe it's time to reinvent the wheel of my life a few more times before I'm done. And maybe that student who threw me into a mini rage last night will someday realize that his life was and is more than asking for a grade that he didn't deserve. But, truthfully, I really doubt that... and, if by chance, he runs past me on my climb down, I'm going to trip that mother fucker and send him sprawling flat on his face. I was getting just a little too pensive there for my taste, but, man do I feel better...
Maybe it's time for a margarita...
I'm not good at asking for help and because of that fact, I fuck things up on a regular basis. I forget important documents, I lose things, I type in the wrong codes and sign up for subscriptions or Survey Monkey jobs that I never wanted. I give out my personal information freely on the internet, blindly trusting anyone who is smart enough to figure out that I use the same password on every single sight I enter. I'm not giving anything away by disclosing that; I'm just confirming what the hackers, who, incidentally, are cracking up as they stare at my bank account, my blood test results or my bills that continue to rot in collection, already know. I don't like to ask for help for the same reason that I like to give help - I want to decide what and who and how and when. I want to dictate what happens and I don't like, never have, anybody, ever, telling me what to do. Some people might think that means that I have a big ego or some people might think that I am conceited, but the truth is, I couldn't survive in a world - a job, a marriage, a friendship where someone was constantly ordering me around. On some level, to me, asking for help is deferring to the "higher" up, admitting that I cannot do it all myself and, really, admitting defeat. I am a good sport, but I also don't like to lose. I never set out to tell myself that it's okay to come in second place. If I do, well, that's ok, but I don't have to like it.
Along the same line of thinking is the notion of sexism and sexist behavior that I have experienced over the years. It has made me rely more on my female counterparts than on my male counterparts, although I have many male friends and influences, but I think I have deep scars when it comes to the notion that I feel as though I am forced into a position where I have to defend myself, just because I am a woman. The interesting notion about that claim is that people have told me that I just "thought that it was said like that" or, I just "heard it wrong." But, I can name dozens of instances where my knowledge, my background, my experience, my opinions have been questioned by people, who I guarantee, would never have questioned me if I were a man. Maybe it's the field of higher education; maybe some students just think that being a professor or an administrator is a man's job, which is completely asinine when one considers that claim, but nonetheless, I am speaking in terms of a gray area in which I have often found myself, not in absolutes of black and white. Having this perspective has also given me extreme compassion toward others. I know that my love and desire to help people comes from the same place where I hold in my frustration and tinges of sadness when I feel as though I am challenged or unappreciated, to put it mildly. That same place has opened up my mind and heart to people, places, events and experiences that I would have never known had I limited my responses to "Yes Sir" or "Well, you have a point." Interestingly, I am talking about students, family members and people in the community. I see it everyday. I have experienced it everyday. I try to help others find a way away from it everyday, just like I try to move away from it.
Maybe it's much more than just being a woman or, maybe that has nothing to do with it at all. Maybe it's just the way I was raised or my own insecurities or maybe I just continue to let people take advantage of me because despite my bravado at times, I am nothing but a big sensitive crybaby most of the time; well, not most of the time. If you irritate me or piss me off, that sappy bitch gets thrown back down the well and Ninja Mom/Teacher/Friend/Righter of Social Injustices takes over. Might make for an interesting Halloween costume next year.
Maybe it's time to recognize that some people don't change, regardless of how much you want them to or how much you thought that they loved you. It might be time to ask yourself how much of a "beating" you are willing to take before you put a stop to it. Maybe it's time to really digest the idea that life is not a blue ribbon in the spelling bee or the homecoming queen crown being placed on your head; those are just merely moments, instead, life is a bloody knee that gets infected or a round of chemotherapy that leaves you ravaged and blindly incapacitated. Maybe life is both a first kiss and a child left abandoned on the side of the road, a set of swings occupied by two elementary school children who are flying and laughing so hard that one doesn't hear the sound of the chain as it snaps and she is catapulted through the air instantly splayed across the blacktop, while the other one continues to swing. Maybe it's violence and peace, love and hate and maybe, we aren't supposed to have too much control over one or the other because if we did, then what would be the point of failing, of falling, of developing a true self-awareness.
A student challenged my authority last night; he refused to hear what I was saying and his blatant disregard for my perspective was both disrespectful and infuriating. It has been said many times, in film, in literature, in politics, in economics, in education, the sentiment, to the effect, that, in order to appreciate your own freedom, in this case of speech, one has to be able to stand in a room with the one person whose ideas boil his blood down to the core and he not only has to stand, but he has to allow that other person the time and the space to express himself freely. When and if we can do that, then we have earned the right to appreciate what it means to have the freedom of speech. Clearly it doesn't apply if you only ever surround yourself with those with whom you agree, or, with those who would rather insult you than listen to your words. I can tolerate a lot of things, as do others on a daily basis around the world, but, if I, and I do, as a regular practice, exercise restraint and fairness, a willingness to listen to all points of view then by everything that is important to me, I deserve the same in return. Last night, I didn't feel that way. I tried very hard not to lose my temper nor to lower myself to a level of argument that would have made any critical thinking teacher wince. I just simply reached a point where I could no longer try to have a conversation with this student because, from the start, he was only hearing himself. It felt, at the end, like I was speaking to a dog in dog obedience training; I had given up on any kind of reasonable explanation and instead, had to resort to simple, monosyllabic words like "No" and "Fine." I have to admit that it has been awhile since I have felt like that. Oh sure, every semester there are moments of difficulty and challenges that I would rather avoid, but usually students are respectful because they feel respected in my classes. I'm still sarcastic, I'm still a bitch and sometimes I still go full tilt, 100 mph, but, I try to see "it" from their points of view and I expect the same in return. If I treat them like my future colleagues, most of them stand up a little taller and accept that challenge, even offering me insight into things that I had missed or had forgotten. They return that treatment in kind, most of the time. Last night was the exception and it left me bitter and angry and a little sad so that by the time that I returned home, I was someone different than I was earlier in the day. I had trouble sleeping last night and today I've been lethargic and less than amiable. Maybe it's time to let it go...
Or maybe it's time to step up and ask myself if it's worth it. If I only had a handful of years left, what would I do with them? Give them away to students like the one last night? Even for a few precious minutes, or, would I... will I, consider that, for every single choice that I make, in every day for however long I am fortunate enough to live this life, remember that my life has both purpose and a purpose. Through experiences like last night and others that are positive and negative, I keep moving toward my final destination, where, on a day, I will stand and defend myself and the choices that I've made in this life. I ask myself that question, that I know one day God will ask of me, "Why...?" and maybe it will have been about how I treated people, or if I were kind or if I tithed and volunteered enough, or maybe, it will only be "Why were you so hard on yourself?" While that's highly doubtful, it's a nice thought.
Maybe it's time, at 45, to realize that the climb itself is ending. There may be a few hills left here and there, but the peak is beneath me now instead of ahead of me, and as I begin my descent, however quickly or slowly, I will try to remind myself that my life is bigger than just me. My life is that refrigerator box ripped wide open by children and rain and wind and creativity and love, most of all by love. My life is made of up of so many pieces, so many colors; I just wish that I took the time to appreciate all of people and experiences that comprise it. I wish that so many things were different in the world, but I also wish that things would stay just as they are, with my three boys sleeping soundly in their beds, safe from harm, here at home, no one else involved, just the five of us, and the pug...
Maybe it's time to plan the trip down the slope, to set a few more big goals and a lot of little ones. Maybe it's time to reinvent the wheel of my life a few more times before I'm done. And maybe that student who threw me into a mini rage last night will someday realize that his life was and is more than asking for a grade that he didn't deserve. But, truthfully, I really doubt that... and, if by chance, he runs past me on my climb down, I'm going to trip that mother fucker and send him sprawling flat on his face. I was getting just a little too pensive there for my taste, but, man do I feel better...
Maybe it's time for a margarita...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)