The Best Things About Easter...

Hi readers,

Happy (late) Easter from Madrid!  After an action-packed Semana Santa in Bordeaux, I am inching back into normal routine.  We came back to a Professional Development day at school (teacher-talk for a day with no kids in the building, when you can actually get work done in what I assume imitates a normal adult environment?).  PD days are a really nice to get back to the work routine.  Today, I am writing report card comments for my students and drinking copious amounts of free coffee.

Yesterday I celebrated Easter by eating vegan food and drinking detoxifying hot lemon waters (spring break in the South of France involved unsurprising, but copious, amounts of wine and red meat). 

I went for a run in the park and looked at the Cuestas de Moyano, a row of book stalls lined up outside the south entrance to Retiro (see photo from of alamy.com).  I took an Easter walk down Calle Atocha (really, I was going to the grocery store, but I went in a very relaxed, slow-walking way).  I video-chatted with almost my whole family, always an accomplishment as they are spread out over up to 5 houses, 3 states and 2 time zones.  I appreciated the European daylight savings time, which marks the return of the 10 PM sunset in Spain. 

While I missed the copious chocolate and English-language church services that mark my Easter celebrations in the states, I felt like the important aspects of the holiday were still observed.  It felt like spring, and a new beginning.  I got to talk with my family.  I took an opportunity to slow down and be grateful.  I plotted out all the olive oil products I am going to eat to mark the end of Lent. 
I searched for fat Easter bunnies and funny Peeps dioramas on google images.  And I was in bed by 9:30 PM : )

International Women's Day

Hi readers,

I have a confession to make.  I'm kind of old-fashioned.  Even in my Boulder, Colorado heyday of hippie-inspired activism, I could never really get behind the feminist movement.

Environmentalism?  Great!
Parity in education?  Totally reasonable!
Universal access to health care?  What a lovely idea!

I could corner strangers and harass them about the importance of those topics with the best of them. (Seriously.  I used to canvas for Greenpeace.)  But when people would try to get me talking about feminism, I would muster up and lackluster smile and say, "Mmmhmmm!" as enthusiastically as possible before making up an excuse about needing to hit the 5-day-old produce give-away at the local food co-op and walking the other way.

Here's the problem: Feminism focuses so much on the stuff we want.  In some countries, this makes tremendous sense.  In the USA, I think we need to spend more time being thankful for what we have.  For example, during my four years in Colorado, there was a serious push to re-instate the draft for the Iraq war.  Feminists were not marching down Colorado Avenue begging for equality in that pool of eligibility. They wanted a raise and a female CEO and IVF covered by health insurance.

At the moment, I get to vote and be employed and walk around without a large scarf covering 99.9% of my body.  I'm pretty pleased with the feminist movement accomplishments (again--in the US and the Western World).  I think we are in a good spot.  As a matter of fact, I think it's time to take a quick reality check and figure out exactly what it is we want next.

I like my job and I don't feel threatened by the men in my work environment.  I'm happy with my current level of access to reproductive health care (though it is one of several topics in US news I am currently following very, very closely).  I'm pleased with my level of ability for free speech.  I vote.  I wear heels, slippers and flip-flops with equal levels of comfort.  I love when my boyfriend cooks me dinner and fixes my computer and buys me coffee every single morning.

There's nothing I feel like I am really hungering for in regard to my feminine identity.

So International Women Day threw me a little off-balance.  It's a nice time to reflect and be thankful, as well as to consider the plight of women in other parts of the world where parity is nonexistent.  But do we really need a day?!  Shouldn't we be doing that anyway?  Like, all the time?

I wondered...

Hi readers,

In a particularly brilliant moment of lecture in one of my science classes today, I asked my students what they were reading in English class. I wanted to make the point that analogous structures in biology are similar to analogies.  (I know!  My students were all super impressed and interested.)

Sidenote: 
For those of you who have not been exposed to high school vocabulary in the last 20 years:
Analogous Structures: organs that look different but serve the same function in different organisms.  For example a fly and a bat both have wings but a fly's wings are made of chitin and a bat's wings are made of skin and bones.
Analogies: a comparison between one thing and another, typically during an explanation.  For example, you can make an analogy between the human heart and a pump.

I learned two things:
1) I'm not super clear on the difference between an analogy and a metaphor.  (It seems a little complicated, and hey-I'm a science teacher)
2) My students are reading Romeo and Juliet.

In a flash of inspiration, I looked up Shakespeare's Sonnet 18.  The kids just smiled politely and waited for me to get back to the point, but the gentle, lyrical sway of "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day..." stayed with me through the afternoon (though I am still not clear if that would be a metaphor or a simile).

When I'd muddled through enough thoughts on the Bard, my mind eventually turned to my favorite poem of all time.  I used to read it every night with my father, right after an equally delightful (but slightly less "timeless") poem about chocolate milk.

Words below.  Happy Monday!

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Caso De Campo

Hi readers,

This morning I went for a run in the Casa De Campo.  Casa De Campo is a 7-mile stretch of park west of downtown Madrid that used to be the royal hunting ground.  It is across town from where I live and where I usually go running (Parque de Buen Retiro).

This little change in location felt empowering.  First, it forced me to get on public transit for a run, something I usually consider to be a total waste of time.  But it was nice to review the metro map, examing the stops I don't usually get off at (Madrid has three metro stops in Casa De Campo, a phenomenal show of good planning in a culture that views train schedules as "suggestions").  I felt inspired to enlist some other small changes in my routine.

Most substantial: I walked.

Usually, the goal of my running routine is to get a steady stream of endorphins flowing as fast as possible.  Twenty minutes of running as fast as possible (ie: not very fast) is usually sufficient.  Today, I wanted something different.  I wanted an adventure (of the cheap, close, local variety).  I wanted to coax my brain into a place of escape, rather than a place of chemically-enhanced happiness. I wanted to notice the trees and slow down my thoughts.  Walking fit my mood.

Eventually: I put on a podcast.

After I had been satisfactorily re-introduced to our urban nature environment, I decided to check out my podcast selection.  I download podcasts in great, energetic piles about 3 times a year.  I try to listen to them while I'm falling asleep or walking to work in the mornings.  Generally, I lose interest after about three days and let them sit collecting dust in my little stretch of broadband for months at a time.  Today, I picked up where I left off in October with two selections:

"Meanwhile, in the Future" by Gizmodo
"Happier" by Gretchen Rubin

I would highly recommend both "channels".  Today, I learned about the possibility that we can genetically engineer humans to combat climate change and the research on dark matter of Harvard professor Lisa Randall (I'm sure there are slightly less geeky components to both if those ideas do not sound as appealing to you as they do to me).


On the way home: I bought flowers.

There is actually nothing that unusual about me buying flowers.  It's something I do every weekend that I find myself by the flower stand. The flower stand, however, is on the way to Casa De Campo and not on the way to Retiro : )

Today, I bought some butter-yellow craspedias (see photo).

More mindfulness

Hi Readers,

The mindfulness topic has stayed on my mind through the day.  Here are some continued thoughts:

1) I feel like am more mindful in my private life than in my professional life.
2) That's probably because it's difficult to be mindful (ie aware and present for what is happening in the moment) when someone is dictating the parameters of what is important and setting the deadlines for work to be completed
3) Maybe I should stop caring so much what the administrators that set deadlines think of my professional performance.

To bring mindfulness into my professional life, I think I need to set my own parameters for what I want to accomplish: in my days, in my years and throughout my professional career. It would take away the feeling that I am not working towards anything, or that I am working towards something I don't totally understand. For me, a lack of mindfulness can be associated with a feeling of drifting and times when I don't understand the big picture.  Currently, the goal in my personal life is fairly simple: I want to be happy.  Hence my enhanced level of mindfulness.  I'm able to gauge: Am I happy?  Why? Why not? Etc.

The goal in my professional life feels more complicated: I want to create an atmosphere of disciplined student learning.  I want the students to be happy too (I'm a big advocate of happiness, generally), but I want them to be happy in a challenging, inspired environment, not happy because they have their phone balanced in their lap looking at snatchap while they pretend to take notes.  Disciplined learning is hard.  It's especially hard to gauge the amount of disciplined learning that is going on in someone else's brain.  It's hard for me to know when and what my students are actually retaining from class.  I think the first goal towards mindfulness in my professional life rests on that--considering my job from the student perspective more carefully. 

I'm excited to try and bring a greater sense of peace and thoughtfulness to my career. I'm especially excited to start.....on Monday.  Happy weekend!

Mindfulness

Hi readers,

Mindfulness has been a trending topic in education lately.  Like all trending topics in education, the popularity has led to much sarcastic skepticism about what it really means to be "mindful".  There are lots of super fun internet searches involved in this! Someone with a reasonably sarcastic sense of humor (me, my boyfriend, the majority of people I choose to spend time with) can have a ton of fun debating the merits of quotes like "Mindfulness is the opposite of mindlessness" and "Spending time on purpose".



But seriously, I sort of get it.  It is about being present in the moment.  That's important.  It involves lots of deep breathing.  I love deep breathing.  It's very good for your complexion.  I wish I could stay  focused in the present moment, indefinitely.  The problem for me is what I am focused on.  My infinitesimally minute slice of the world is constantly overflowing with deadlines, projects, long commutes and vague efforts towards self improvement.  It all feels very disjointed, and makes for some very long days.  If I gave 100 percent to everything I did, I don't know how much I would be able to get finished.  It makes me feel very un-mindful to write it, but it's true.  Is trying to give 100 percent enough?  Is trying even mindful?! Is un-mindful even a word?!?!

This is when the concept gets confused for me.  I understand what mindfulness looks like in a vacuum (seriously, I'm really good at deep breathing).  But I get stuck in the application of mindfulness to other aspects of life.  I want to approach things in a mindful way, not just sit in my office taking deep breathes all day.  But I don't really understand what to focus on in a mindful approach.  Do you just sit with other people taking deep breathes?

Actually, that sounds sort of nice.

Self Care

Hi readers,

I had a doctor's appointment today.  I don't know if it's normal how much fanfare goes into this decision in a teaching career.  For me, the process started last week.  I had to get a doctor recommendation form the school nurse.  I had to brush up on my Spanish medical vocabulary.  I had to ask the school secretary in advance so she could arrange a teacher for my classes (In a professional capacity I find our school secretary to be particularly terrifying).  I had to make sub plans (this generally consists of finding an activity students could complete if there was literally no adult supervision in the room.  Playing-on-the-internet type activities are popular.)

It takes enough planning to schedule a doctor's appointment that I generally don't bother.  It's sad to think how routinely I put the maintenance of my personal health at the end of a laundry list of tasks to complete. When I was relaxing in my gloriously hard-earned plastic waiting room chair, it occurred to me that self-care is a phenomenally important and over-looked concept in my life.

I go through waves of meditation-interest. I don't smoke.  I exercise, sometimes.  I eat reasonably well, I think.  I enjoy taking time to focus on my breathing occasionally (this is an excellent activity for crowded subway cars).  But in a deep way I don't feel very connected to my health and my self-care.  Just taking a few hours to check in about my health made me feel more calm and connected to my body.  It was an impressive and immediate difference.  I realized how important it is to take the time to take care of myself.  I'm so lucky to be in good health and I often take it for granted.

Feeling thankful...

Lent

Hi readers,

I have been thinking about what to give up for Lent.  Yes, I know--I'm a little late for the party.  Ironically, I have a hard time keeping track of Christian holiday dates in Spain.  The passing of Carnival is hard to equate with the beginning of a season of quiet, reflective thoughts.  Honestly, it's hard to even notice in Madrid--the Carnival season is more pronounced in the south and in the islands.

Truthfully, Lent is hard for me anyway.  I gave up caffeine one year and that was quite successful.  Difficult but rewarding and allowed for lots of thoughtful mornings.  The next year I thought I might give up just coffee and instead get into drinking artisanal tea.  I had a friend explain that picking up new, hipster-inspired hobbies was not really the point.  Lent is meant to be difficult and provoke suffering.  We are remembering death and fasting, after all.

I am not good at choosing activities that provoke my own suffering.

I know a lot of people that give up not doing something.  It seems difficult to define.  For example, when I brought the idea of lent sacrifices at morning coffee yesterday, my coworker said she was going to give up "not being positive."  It lasted almost until the end of coffee (it was Monday).

I do want to mark the occasion, and choose something culturally relevant that will cause me a feeling of deprivation.  Which encourages the important question...why I might want to encourage a feeling of deprivation in my life?

Simply put, I think it's important to remember that life is not always easy.  However, it's hard to equate that feeling with my current material possessions.  I don't know what would best serve as a daily reminder of hardship in my decidedly upper middle class life.  Lack of olive oil?  Restraining from chocolate? 

It's worth considering.

Adaptability

Hi readers,

I have not been getting very much sleep this week.  Pathetically enough, I think it's time to cut out afternoon caffeine. Sunday I had a late coffee and didn't close my eyes until 4 AM.  Yesterday, I had a cinnamon tea at 6 PM and was up staring at the wall for the next 8 hours (actually, I took a break to go jogging.  Because, you know--tea energy).  Tonight, I went to an 8 PM dinner but in true Spanish-dinner style, walked back into my apartment at 12:28 AM.  It's good tomorrow is Friday because I don't think my body can take much more of this.

But considering that I am adapting the sleeping patterns of a high-strung teenage girl, my body is actually adapting quite well.  I've had a relatively steady energy level and have kept my patience with writing midterm comments (again) and grading approximately 317 pieces of student work.  I even stayed at work until 6:30 PM today rather cheerfully because I felt (correctly) that I should likely read up on the lecture I'm giving tomorrow (spoiler alert: Introduction to Biodiversity).

The range of conditions the human body and brain can function at are genuinely staggering.  We convince ourselves that all types of scenarios are "normal": war, tax time, last call, homelessness.  In the last 3 months I have trained myself to:

-wake up at 6:40 AM to practice the piano every day
-complete 20 minutes to 1 hour of writing every (other) day
-run 2-3 miles 2 times a week
-wake up and make 2 cups of instant coffee every morning

It looks completely different from my schedule last year, and exists in a different universe from my schedule 5 years ago.  The point is, the schedule exists.  I am generally able to convince myself that any scenario I may find myself in is pleasant and inviting, if not outright enjoyable.

Humans are as adaptable as we make up our minds to be.  It's a pretty lucky characteristic.

Off to bed. 

Weekend Update

Hi readers,

As I have gotten older, the meaning of "the weekend" has shifted dramatically.  As a pre-teen, it meant two 5 AM wake up calls in a row and an average of 200 early morning lengths of a Olympic-size pool.  Slightly older, I went to boarding school, where Saturday generally meant classes again and Sunday meant morning study hall (I once served 9 Sunday morning study halls in a row).  In college, Saturday night was spent playing pool in my friend's garage and Sunday we moved to the backyard for horseshoes. In the beginning of my work life, there was no real differentiation for the weekend, as my schedule shifted weekly and I usually worked weekends at one of my seven jobs.

Once I started a Monday-Friday work week, I started to understand the sacred nature of the single, adult weekend.  Lingering over lunch.  Relaxing on a Sunday afternoon.  Puttering around a quiet apartment.  Going for a hike.

This past weekend was glorious in that it was nothing special.  I stayed home (a rare occurance this past fall and something I am overjoyed to do).  I didn't go out late (for Spaniards, getting home from dinner at 2 AM Saturday morning is actually considered quite responsible).  I watched the X Files.  I made frozen pizza.  I thought about writing my next short story.  I skyped with my dad AND my sister.  I went on a run in Retiro park.  Apparently, there was some sort of football game on?

It was glorious.  Pictures from park below.

It's the little things...

Hi readers,

For about the last month, I've been on a search for Spanish gummy vitamins.

It all started at Christmas, when I made my semi-annual pilgrimage to CVS.  There is simply no equivalent to a CVS/Target/WalMart in Spain, or really in Europe for that matter.  Usually, I don't mind.  I do understand that CVS is full of moderately useless crap.  There is no need for 17 different kinds of band-aids, or an aisle for toothbrushes or 32 shades of red lipstick.


However....

I find a meditative peace in wondering through the vitamin aisle, wondering if my life would be different if only I had a more devoted amino acid supplement practice.  Last year, I walked around the blue, knotted carpet tiles in the deodorant aisle for a full 10 minutes, delightedly hugging a large stuffed monkey I found for sale by the door and thinking deeply about what type of antiperspirant was least likely to give me terrible cancer.


This past Christmas, I discovered gummy calcium supplements.  (Truth be told, I wanted dark-chocolate-flavored Viactiv Chews, but annoyingly they only had caramel, milk-chocolate and cappuccino flavors.  Sigh.)  Turns out, gummy calcium supplements are amazing.  Unfortunately, I only bought one box.

Hence, my aggressive tours of the Spanish farmacias.  I have been harassing the lovely Madrilena workers about the chewable vitamin possibilities since the day I could count the number of gumdrop-shaped vitamin candies left in my sturdy plastic vial.  So far I have encountered:

1) Orange-flavored chewable wafers with calcium and some unidentifiable Spanish mineral/form of carbonate rock
2) Small, rubbery gummy B-vitamins shaped like various fruits that come in a set with a Popeye-the-Sailor piggy bank
3) "AquaGummies!" shaped like various fish that may be some vague Spanish equivalent of Flinstones vitamins

Every store I go in has a different offering. So far my quest for gummy vitamins has taken upwards of 2 hours and cost approximately $40.

But you know what?  It's fun. I'm learning all sorts of weird Spanish words, and I'm no longer terrified of entering a pharmacy and talking to the people that work there, a skill I have to believe will come in handy at some point during my tenure in Span.

It's the little things that make life big, they say. 

Creativity

Hi readers,

I'm currently in the process of writing my first short story in 25 years.  The last attempt involved a lost toaster that made friends with a dog and was met with rave reviews by my 3rd grade teacher.  She gently corrected my spelling of "taostar" throughout the narrative and said it was "very creative".  

At the time, I figured she told all the students their stories were very creative.  Looking back, I realize:

1) She definitely did do that
2) It was probably true

A story about a lost toaster running around making friends is very creative.  Toasters don't get lost.  They don't even move.  They certainly don't know how to talk.

I ripped down a lot of annoying walls of reality in order to create that idea. My grammar, punctuation and general understanding of writing dialogue were poor at best, but the idea was very creative.

Creativity is a skill that is endlessly resilient.  We obscure it behind traditional ideas.  We ignore it in the face of deadlines at work.  We push it aside to follow a plan.  Writing fiction forces creativity out from the wings of the stage into the spotlight.  At first, it tap dances awkwardly, but eventually it finds the rhythm and shines.  The process of writing again has sparked an interest in being creative that has spilled into my work (I'm more confident about going slightly off task to keep things interesting), my style (I'm trying to wear more necklaces) and my morning routine (I wake up twenty minutes early to do whatever I feel like).  I find happiness and innovation in breaking  these small, self-created rules.  The originality of being me is inspiring. 

South America/2010

Friday Puppies

Hi readers,

Because it has been a long day, and it's only two o'clock in the afternoon, I am christening the lunch hour "puppy time".  Happy Friday!

Loneliness

Hi readers,

Loneliness terrifies me.  I used to cry during the commercials for Meals on Wheels--the one where a telephone is ringing on the TV and an old woman thinks its in her apartment and gets so excited.  The idea that I might want for company one day makes shaky tears come to my eyes almost immediately.

This topic is on my mind for the saddest of reasons--a story of a dear, old friend feeling so alone and depressed that they didn't know where to turn.  Loneliness lives in the roots of depression, tangled up with a mess of other complicated emotions that leave a person feeling lost and upside down.  If I'd spoken to my friend, I don't know if I would have had a direction to offer in order to escape the maze of shadowy, solitary existence.  I don't know the answer to loneliness.  I'm grateful every day for the wonderful relationships that keep the desperation of loneliness from leaking into the corners of my life.  I hope there is a similar kind of comfort waiting in the great beyond.

Balance of Life

Hi readers,

The balance of life??!!  You are dying to know!
Here it is:

The balance of life exists as a pendulum.  The falling and the climbing are endlessly exhilarating. Lately however, I've been hanging out in at the equilibrium position (see photo).




I'm excited about the prospects ahead of me: moving, learning more Spanish, buying adorable new black work boots.  I'm also comfortable with where I am: in a great apartment, moderately comfortable in 2 of the 17 past tense verb conjugations that exist in Spanish, no black work boots (BUT the proud new owner of fabulous black suede weekend boots).  I feel stable and accomplished.


I adore the bottom of the pendulum.



However, I don't expect it to last forever.  Report cards will be due again.  I will attempt a new Spanish verb conjugation relatively soon, throwing my current verb conjugations into a state of absolute upheaval.  My new boots will make my feet hurt.  Eventually, I will have to head up the old "massive bob hill" (again, see photo) and do some hard work just to feel like I am slipping backwards and slowing down.

But now, from the bottom, I feel like I can see a clear trajectory and I like where it's going.  The pendulum needs movement to exist, after all.

Living Alone

Hi readers,

I'm moving.  Apartments, I mean.  Not right now or anything, but soon enough.  It is a shift into the adulthood of my early thirties.  I can't believe it, but for the first time I will be signing a lease to live alone.

As I looked back over my decade of living in rented space, I can't believe how little of it has existed alone.  Boyfriends.  Roommates.  Shared trailer park space.  Inappropriately long stretches of time living with my mother.  Now the time has finally come to try apartment life solo.  I live in a safe city with cheap rent and it's time to take advantage and start behaving (slightly) more like a grown-up.

My current roommate and I were discussing my prospects last night.  She asked me what I wanted in an apartment.  Here is what I came up with:

-location near a park
-as many bedrooms as I can afford
-a place to put my keyboard

As I started listing things like "an oven" and "a table", I realized I'm not very good at this type of list.  Given my troubled history with nesting, it's not a great surprise.

For me, home is a feeling.  The internet meme quotes immediately validated this assertion:

I can sort of picture where I might like to live in my mind.  There's lots of light.  It's quiet.  I'm sitting at the table by the window, writing and drinking delicious instant coffee (Yes, I'm serious.  I love instant coffee.)  I think there are lots of places I can find that.  I'm sad to end this roommate chapter of my life (because I don't think you go back to having roommates.  Unless, you know. Cats.)  But I'm excited to find my next home.

Making Promises

Hi readers,

Yesterday I went to a baptism.  It was in Aylesbury, England for a particularly adorable little British baby named Willoughby James (which I happen to think adds to his particular adorability).   The church of St. Mary the Virgin in Aylesbury happens to have a 12 Century baptismal font, which was pretty remarkable.  The vicar (another adorable, British-type of a word) said there is actually a whole class of fonts named after the one little Willoughby was baptized in.  I didn't even know there were classes of fonts.  To be honest, I didn't even know it was called a font.  So that was a wonderful learning opportunity.

I hadn't been to a baptism in 13 years (the last one was for my oldest nephew).  I paid more attention this time.  The ceremony hinges on making various promises about protecting the child's welfare.  The congregation states "I do" and "We do" and takes witness on all various sorts of things.  I left feeling accountable for little Willoughby.  So did everyone else.  As I wobbled back through the snow in the countryside cobble-stoned graveyard, there was a greater sense of family and familiarity among the group.  (I think.  It's possible I was confused by their endlessly friendly-sounding British accents.)

There is a power in the ritual of making promises.  It feels sacred.  It brings people closer together.  It provides strength. Promise-making ceremonies are found through society from religion to therapy, from weddings to marriage counseling.  I make promises to myself often, but am always shy about making them public and saying them out loud (I'm quite good at typing them though.  Clearly).  I was happy to bring my promises to a more public forum.  I found it quite powerful.

The Value of Time

Hi readers,

This morning I photocopied 27 pages out of The Big Thirst by Charles Fishman.  The book is a study of current worldwide water use practices and includes some fascinating and terrifying observations observations about the general human attitudes towards water consumption.  I want to read it with my IB Environmental Science class in some vague hope that the students will grow up understanding that water consumption is an important issue and problem in their lives. 

I believe it will be a very worthwhile activity.

It took 25 minutes to make the photocopies. 

Today, I chose to spend those 25 minutes relaxed, focusing on the task at hand and calmly thinking about the rest of my day.  Some other teachers came into the copy room.  We chatted.  I even stopped what I was doing to let them copy some papers (they did not seem to share my Zen, meditative morning attitude towards the copy room).  

 It made me consider my relationship with time.  I don't think I am always very nice to my time.  For example, usually I would say that spending 25 minutes in the photocopy is a total pain in the ass and a waste of my life. 

That is not a nice thing to say at all!  My poor time. My poor life! Spent doing some dumb laundry list of useless, irritating tasks with no thoughts of satisfaction. 

I live in a first world country, make a good salary and am surrounded all day by relatively interesting people (weird yes, but definitely interesting).  I have the tremendous luxury of basically choosing how I spend my time.  It is my choice to find value in the activities I pursue.  Thinking something is "a waste of time" is an attitude problem, and a bad one. 

Sober January

Hi readers,

I make weird New Year's Resolutions.  For example, last year my resolution was to learn how to do a flying ninja kick.  For training in preparation for this arduous task, I completed a half marathon.  I never did the ninja kick.  In 2013, my New Year's resolution was to go on a date.  It resulted, in a roundabout way, in the nascent entries of this blog.  This year, I made my New Year's resolution in July (The thing about the X Files was sort of joke--but I will definitely watch all of the X Files).  I decided by the time I'm 35 I will be a published author. I know, I know.  In the world of self-publishing, I'm basically at the peak of my career.  Published somewhere else, I mean.  Like a literary review journal.  Or one of those nice creative writing magazines they hand out on the subway.  This decision resulted in me enthusiastically jumping on the bandwagon and participating in sober January.

Yes, I understand January is five months after July.  What could these two decisions possibly have in common?


It turns out it is hard to create the life of a writer.  Especially when I already have the life of an over-worked high school teacher and the life of a moderately compulsive exercise fanatic and the life of an avid reader and the life of an obsessive Spanish language learner and the life of someone who has recently discovered the TV show Curb Your Enthusiasm.


I spent the fall putting weird, uncomfortable stress on my time.  Over Christmas I realized I needed to re-prioritize in order to make space for all the things I love in my life.  After a very helpful conversation with my boyfriend, drinking fell quite naturally to the bottom of that list.  For now.  Hence: sober January.

Bonus: The 7,000 articles you have read on Facebook about sober January are correct.  I do have more energy and feel more clear-headed.  Both of these attributes are very helpful in, well, everything.  Added bonus: I have extra money for ridiculously expensive, artisan Spanish mineral water! See photo.

The Best of France

Hi readers,

I'm still stuck on this "beautiful grace of French community" thing.  I first travelled to France in the summer after my freshman year of high school, in a determined attempt by my parents to:

A) Make sure I was doing something vaguely more productive than learning to smoke cigarettes (this had been the crowning achievement of the previous summer, and it turned out, was highly useful in France)
B) Get me out of our hot, crowded apartment and expose me to some non-televised cultural activities
C) Increase the overall effectiveness (and cost) of spending 5 years learning French in school and with a private homework tutor.  I'm not particularly adept with languages, though I have a deep, masochistic sense of appreciation for attempting to learn.

I loved France!  I ate Nutella. I had a gay homestay brother who took me out to a discotheque.  I got lost in Monte Carlo.  I visited cheese stores and perfume factories and several very impressive castles.  For some reason I can't quite remember, I spent an afternoon in a canoe singing camp songs.  I came home with a backpack full of undeveloped rolls of film (no age judgement please), french notes, museum brochures and Parisian metro tickets.  I almost minored in French in undergrad.  I still love Nutella.  I paused over kitshy decorative trays in stationary stores that say things like "Paris is always a good idea".

In the past 12 months I have been on 4 separate trips to France.  Even considering that I live not far from the border, it seems like a lot.  It's certainly more than I used to visit New Jersey when I lived in New York.

The French culture is enchanting.  They love lavender.  They eat cheese courses.  They invented mountaineering.  I can't wait to go back.

For now, some pictures of the past year's travels below.


 
Aiguille-de-Midi/Chamonix


View of Paris/Sacre Coeur

 
Senanque Abbey/Provence

Charlie Hebdo

Hi readers,

It's hard to believe it has been a year since the Charlie Hebado shootings in Paris.  Looking back, it feels like the shooting was the beginning of a hectic, shocking year of world events.  Let's review with Endmemo (you classy, academic types can read the long, well-written version on The Atlantic website):

 SpaceX Lands Rocket Successfully Makes Reuse Possible. (12-22-2015, 10 Records)
 Climate Change Deal Reached by about 200 Countries. (12-13-2015, 23 Records)
 Paris terrorist attack, hundreds dead. (11-13-2015, 35 Records)
 Russian passenger plane crashed in Sinai. (10-30-2015, 22 Records)
 Russia intervenes Syria civil war. (10-01-2015, 55 Records)
 Flowing liquid water found on Mars. (09-25-2015, 12 Records)
 Migrant crisis of Europe. (08-30-2015, 114 Records)
 Earthquake 7.9 Magnitude hits Nepal. (04-24-2015, 91 Records)


Time and hindsight are valuable partners to put this past year in perspective.  Looking back, I realize I spent the last part of 2015 terrified by the world around me.  My perspective: There is too much going on.

Refuges.  Terrorism.  Earthquakes.  Donald Trump.

 

What is our world coming to?!

Ugh.  Pessimistic thoughts about the end of the world are not fabulous.  However, they are copious and easy to process--popular criteria for mass existence in modern society.   It's simple to focus on negative, sensationalist news.  First--there is a lot of it.  The world is a terrifying, imperfect cacophony with billions of people, not enough clean drinking water and too many dysfunctional hoverboards.  Second--bad news sells.  It's easier to provoke fear and anxiety than happiness.  The things that make people happy vary tremendously.  The things that make people anxious are more universal.  (See list above.  Except people do seem rather inexplicably divided about Donald Trump) 

Looking back over an uncertain year, it seems important to consider some of the good things that happened in 2015.   I started writing this blog again.  I learned how to play Reveille on the piano.  I now understand when it is appropriate to use the phrase "Me parece bien" in a Spanish conversation.  

There are a lot of terrible things going on in the world.  It's important to take time to remember the good so the bad doesn't get too overwhelming.  The French community has done that with beautiful grace over the last 12 months.  Take a moment today to be grateful for all that you have.

 

New Year's Resolutions

Hi readers,

In college,  I spent a memorable year living in a house full of girls that loved video games.  Specifically, Mario Kart.  I exclude myself rather emphatically from that category.  Sometimes, I would leave for a weekend and come back to the girls sitting in basically the same places I left them, scattered around our living room with a pile of Keystone Light cans expanding around them in every direction.  It was kind of funny.  It was also when I started to get kind of judgmental about people who spend too much time in front of the TV.  

For years, my relationship with television has fluctuated:

I'm disinterested. (early twenties)
I watch enough Sex and the City to win a trivia contest at a Cloud 9 party. (late early twenties)
I'm disinterested.  (mid-twenties)
I watch 6 seasons of Grey's Anatomy so intently that I'm basically a doctor. (late mid twenties)
I'm disinterested. (grad school)

I'm busy to the point of hysteria. (first 5 years of teaching)
I discover the X Files. (current)

First, if you notice a trend of "me finding out about these shows roughly 10 years after they first air", that is correct.  That extends to all aspects of pop culture in my life, including Beyonce and hair straighteners.  Second?  The X Files is awesome.  Besides being highly addictive and convincing the general masses (read: myself, my boyfriend, Dana Scully) of a general government conspiracy to subterfuge alien existence, the series (or at least the mythology arch episodes) contain complicated plot lines and thoughtful dialogue.  It's interesting and most importantly:

It's relaxing!
I get to sit on my couch!!
I love my couch!!!

Maybe I shouldn't have judged my college roommates.  Apparently, it's important to relax and generally, it's not something I'm very good at.   Most of my hobbies are pretty intense, and there is only so much running I can do to "destress" before I start to have major back spasms.

I know this has nothing to do with New Years Resolutions.  It just sounded so topical.  Maybe my New Year's Resolution should be to find out what happens on the X Files? And run a half marathon! A life of balance....

Happy 2016!