looking out

It's a lovely morning here in Lawrence, though quite steamy at 8:30 in the morning. I'm on my patio, sitting at my plastic table and chairs, surrounded by hostas. I got the gardening bug last weekend, did research about container gardening, and then pulled Jedsen through the gardening center at Home Depot as I picked out perennials. I spent too much but justified it with the fact that they were perennials and will last forever. And then Shannon broke my heart this week and told me they're only perennials if they're in the ground. Oh. So it looks like I'll be having lots of houseplants in the cold months...which I wanted, but I also wanted patio plants to just survive all year long. I must wish for too much.

So I'm outside writing while Jedsen's sleeping. We have officially been together for 4.5 years today--we're spannies, as we say. We span time together. He is such an integral part of my life--even though we only see each other for approximately two days a week. I don't like to write about romantic love, but this man is special. He is so smart, so talented, so handsome, so sweet and caring. And he loves like nobody I've ever known. Lucky. That is what I am.

So the writing thing hasn't gotten better. I know what I need to do, have to do. And I will do it. Here's the thing. Sometimes everything feels trapped inside. I can compose in my mind--I know what I want to write about--but the idea of sitting down and writing it paralyzes me sometimes. But I think it's tied to the environment. I have felt trapped in this apartment. So this morning I move outside to the patio (which has been underused these two years), and I'm already more open. There's the sky. Ok, I can write, think. There's a tree. I love trees. I can write. There's the breeze. A real breeze not from the a/c. There's the sun making me squint. Ok, I'm alive. I can write. So here's what's going to happen starting on Wednesday when I move. (Yes, the move is finally here!) The small bedroom will be my office. My desk will be in front of the window, looking out on the patio. Looking out is key. Or I can sit in the kitchen at the breakfast bar (a place to eat again!) and look out on the patio through the sliding glass doors. And if I end up having space for a real table and chairs, I can sit there and do the same. I can look out. Or I can go out onto the patio like I'm doing now and write. And Snickers can stare at me enviously from the window like she's doing now. Open up the space, change the space, feel the breeze, and write. I have written about this before in my first real essay--"Within the Frame." I just didn't take the step outside the window.

The last month with the new furniture has actually helped me not hate this apartment as much, though. Just being surrounded by what is me, and the furniture really is a reflection of me, has made it more of a home. But it didn't change the darkness or the smallness. Wednesday marks the start of something different. My brother Tom is coming up from Hutchinson on Tuesday to help me. We're going to get my cousin Mandy and have a slumber party on that last night in C3. Then I get the keys at 10am on Wednesday, and then we have a Uhaul for the big things in the afternoon. This move will be different in many ways from the others: 1) No parents--just brother. 2) Mandy! 3) Jedsen! (because no parents) 4) Uhaul. 5) a 7 day overlap of apartments for extended moving and cleaning time. 6) I'm moving only 4 blocks away.

Cottonwood floats all around me, settling on my sweaty skin, white fluff ready for seeding. It rises up more than down, horizontal more than succumbing to the slight pull of gravity. It has nowhere to go but with the wind's will. I used to be allergic--back in Hutchinson--but my allergies have mostly gone away in Northeast Kansas. I don't understand the change, but I'm grateful for it. A different altitude? level of allergens? mindset?

not to say

There is so much not to say. What does that even mean? It means, I think, if I understand what just popped out of my mind, that writing is hard. That there's so much to say that it's hard to know what to say. That's not to say that I don't want to. I want to. More than anything. I want to write. I want to. I'm doing it. I'm living this dream that I started nearly three years ago. The Writing Life. Now it's a matter of making the Writing work every day in the Life. It's hard. It's supposed to be. You don't choose this occupation for the ease of sitting down and writing what matters. Don't make it easy. I make it too hard, I think.

Keep it down. I need the quiet to think, to settle, to breathe. But I learned something today. Something that I have to remind myself of too often, remind myself to have human contact. Human contact. Seems simple, but for me it seems to be hard.

"I went broke believing that the simple should be hard." Yes. That's what I'm doing with a lot of my life. My instinct is that things are not simple. That having fun and being myself are hard. That having friends is hard. And that's a quote from the song of the summer that's reminding me that "every day is a start of something beautiful." "All We Are" by Matt Nathanson.

oh what a thing to've done

I'm just going to say it. This has been one of my favorite years of life so far. Teaching has changed my life. Yes, there is the insane amount of stress and the constant horridness of grading and the classroom failures. But then there are those students that I'll never forget. There are those students who I'm just so pleased to have known. Those students who have so much potential that I hope I have helped them to see. There are those moments in front of the classroom when everything clicks. For me and for the students. It's the confidence. It's the way it has changed my outlook on my future. Yeah, it's just changed things. And then there's the camaraderie among the teachers (GTAs) that is just so good. Thanks to everyone who has made this year special.

Now, I'm looking at the summer and next year. Well, I still have to grade all of my students' revision projects over the next week, so it's not quite summer yet. I haven't had a good summer in a long time. I'm determined for this one to be different. I'm determined not to go crazy working in the "office" at the bookstore. I'm determined (and have to) write and read every day. I'm determined to get into shape (for real this time)--and I'm taking a Zumba class! I'm determined not to let the tv consume my short evenings (digital box is broken right now anyway, which means no tv). I'm determined to listen to more music this summer, get back into the discovery mode. I'm determined to stay in touch with all of the cool people in Lawrence and not live like a hermit. I know I'm going to love my new apartment. Well, I have to because I've built it up so much. I get my new furniture tomorrow, and it already feels like a new start.

So right now the living room is empty in the center. Friends took away my loveseat, chair, desk, and coffee table that were consuming the room, and so for most of the day I have had an open area in my apartment. It feels different, better, without the furniture. The open space affects me (and Snickers), and part of me wants to just sit on the floor for a few weeks before more furniture comes in. But I already don't have a bed to sleep on right now because Snickers decided (due to an infection, hopefully) to pee on my bed three times. It's right now soaking in Nature's Miracle, and the bedroom is off limits to this little kitty.

It feels so good to go through my possessions. Purging. I'm going through a "I don't want to spend any money" phase. (well, on anything but furniture, but I'm pretty much done with that) I want to save. I want to not bring in more things. I want to be surrounded by what makes me happy but not mere things.

And with that, I'm off to make a bed on the floor and receive a furniture delivery in the morning. Have a lovely May.