Moomin Light

I wish she would go away already;...

...she's certainly had more than her 15 minutes of fame.  I wouldn't even do an opinionated blog post on her if I had the energy to write anything else.*

The Daily Dish is one of my daily reads.  They've got interesting posts and links about political and cultural matters, plus features such as the Mental Health Break, and View From Your Window.  Usually, however, if they have more than two articles on Sarah Palin, I go on to another blog.  Today, however, I thought I'd count the Palin posts.  It's one of the Dish's more obsessive days.  Out of 45 posts (by 10:15 pm), 16 are about Sarah Palin - one third of their posts.

I know she's on a book tour, but still, she's not that interesting.

If I had stuck to my usual, close-The-Daily-Dish-at-the-second-Sarah-Palin-post policy, I would have missed the posts on smuggling sheep through tunnels to the Gaza strip, what if we fail in Afghanistan, the biology of smell, and jihadists who recanted.  However, most days I don't have the patience to wade past the Palin posts. 

*  All the pansies and snapdragons are planted except for the ones that will go on the pots in the deck.  I can plant those while sitting in a chair after my surgery. I spent most of the daylight doing yardwork, except for a few hours this morning when younger son and I went to take pictures at Duke Gardens.  He's turning into quite the shutterbug too.  A good day, but I was ready to go to sleep two hours ago (as an insomniac, I couldn't.  If I go to sleep before about midnight, I wake around 1 or 2 am, my body considers that I've had a good nap, and I'm up for hours.). 

Gardening, swimming, and some gripes

A lovely day today:  Warm, but not hot, a slight breeze, lots of beautiful sunshine in a wonderfully blue sky, lots of manure to spread on the flower beds,* lots of pansies to plant...

...and the incessant drone of leaf blowers.  When one stops, another starts so, even if each leaf blower only runs for a short while, the noise continues. 

Younger son and I have done a lot of raking this week because I'm trying to reseed the yard.  We have a lot of Japanese stiltgrass which is taking over the yard from the other grass, and, far far worse, it's spreading into the beds.  It must die. 

Daughter also helped with the raking, although she can't do much because of her ankle, which she sprained last April and which is still causing her trouble.  The orthopedist dismissed her from therapy and pronounced her "better" in July.  We're going back to her regular doctor next week to ask, because it seems to be turning into a chronic condition.

She can dance, but walking and swimming make it worse because of their repetitive motions.  I love swimming, but the whole "swimming is the best exercise because it doesn't hurt your body" is a bunch of garbage.  If you have a tendency to get tension headaches, the repetitive arm and  shoulder movements in swimming can set them off.  While I was swimming regularly this summer, I had to take advil for tension headaches almost every day at around 2 pm.  I could almost set the clock by it.  No, stretching more doesn't help, although dear husband massaging my neck can help sometimes.   I'm a stretching fanatic, but it doesn't cure all ills.*

Anyway, because swimming doesn't have any impact, it's supposed to be the best exercise.  However, for our joint problems, forcing the damaged joints against the water makes them worse and pushes them out of line.  It took a long time for me to be able to swim normally after I first injured my knee, and then again after my first surgery.  Even the highly touted "water walking" (which, by the way, is excruciatingly boring compared to walking outside) hurt my knee because of the water pushing back on my kneecap.  I can walk on land for over an hour before my knee starts to hurt.  If I'm doing the crawl, which moves the knee in the same front and back pattern, my knee hurts after one time across the pool.  If I do more than that, I'll be limping for the rest of the day.     

I do love swimming, particularly outside in the summertime. It's very peaceful and meditative, and I'm in a different, more focused spot after I'm done. This fall, I've started going to the Homestead Pool in Chapel Hill.  It's a beautiful facility with lots of windows (photo here).  The architecture is lovely, the water is extremely clean, and the water temperature is exactly right.  

As much as I love swimming, it's not the ideal exercise.  I don't think one exists because all bodies are different.  My argument isn't with swimming here, just with the people who write articles about its ideality. 

* I found a very cute, nine inch long worm snake in the manure pile today.  I thought it was a worm at first because it was about as big around as one.  Dear husband transplanted the worm snake from the manure pile, where he might get hurt by a shovel, to one of the flower beds.  He quickly made himself at home.  Dear husband found a small frog in the fountain.  Younger son and his friend went off in search of a nice pond for the frog to live in.  They had to try a few places before they found someplace with enough standing water for the frog.  I didn't get pictures of either creature because we were too busy.  Click here for a good picture of a worm snake.

**  I have yet to see anyone else at a pool, indoors or outdoors, stretch after swimming.  Most people finish their laps and head for the showers.  I stretch for about 20 minutes.  I feel rather strange at the beginning since it's such an unusual thing to do, but I get over it quickly.

[I'm writing this earlier in the afternoon.  The seasonal depression isn't too bad, lately, particularly if I spend a large part of the day outside.  However, I still get depressed every afternoon when the sun starts to go behind the trees.  The last few posts were written between 4 pm and 7 pm.  I'm actually more depressed right before, and for two hours after, sunset, than I am later in the evening.  Now it's time to go out and plant pansies.]

If I want your opinion...

"The presence of those seeking the truth is infinitely preferred to the presence of those who think they've found it."  (Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment,* pp. 212-213)

I'm always surprised when someone knows The Truth and will expound to others.  I'm not surprised at the knowing; I'm surprised at the expounding.**  You see, you may know the truth, but really stink at expounding.  Or your listeners may be unready or unable to hear.  Or they may just consider you a pain in the tail.  Your expounding, if bad enough, may actually turn them away from the truth you're trying to put forth. 

For those of you thinking, "Oh, that doesn't apply to me because I don't preach religion at people."  But, do you preach politics?  Or a particular child-raising theory?***  A particular way of eating?  The right kind of car to drive?  Neighborhood to live in? 

Now, I don't mind people saying "This works for me," or even "I really like this, for these reasons."  That can be interesting.  It's when they think their theories will work for everyone that it drives me nuts. 

This is why the only formal teaching I could do is something like aerobics.  Anyone in the class can leave anytime they want. 

Homeschooling?  I listen to my kids about as much as I talk, and they've got the option, every year**** to go to school.  I'm not much of a didactic teacher.

As for the "seeking the truth" part of the quote?  I love conversations where we play with ideas.  I learn far more with questions. 

* For those who have read Monstrous Regiment, the title is a play on an essay of John Knox's.  If you haven't read the book, but intend to, don't click the link.  That would give part of the plot away. 

** I'm sure that I know plenty of truths too.  However, I'm polite and don't beat people over the head with them.

*** You know how angry I get at people who tell me how to raise my kids.  Unless you've spent as much time with them as I have, don't bother telling me.  Hmm.... that only leaves dear husband. 

**** Except in middle school where the kids, for some reason, seem to get meaner. 

[I also like this quote: 

Birds sang.  The effect was peaceful, if you didn't know about birdsong, but Polly could recognize the alarm calls close by and the territorial threats far off and, everywhere, the preoccupation with sex.  That took the edge off the pleasure.*
...
 
* It's hard to be an ornithologist and walk through a wood when all around you the world is shouting:  "Bugger off, this is my bush!  Aargh, the nest thief!  Have sex with me, I can make my chest big and red!"  (Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment, p. 205.)]

Least favorite day of the year

I would say that I hate it, but the sun came out so I can't.  And, it was really yesterday that was the problem, but yesterday was so dreary that it was actually more cheerful to take a walk at night. 

"Fall back; get an extra hour of sleep."  You'd think, as an insomniac, that I would like that.  As someone with seasonal depression, and who has two children and a husband with seasonal depression, "Fall back; the sun goes down an hour early so there's less sunlight to do things in after work" is bad.  This last week, with all the dreary rain, or, even worse, just the dreariness without useful rain, we were all in bad moods. 

Now, I'm currently lucky in that I can arrange my day around taking a walk in the sunlight.  It's really bad for people at work who have no option to get out in the sunlight unless they've got someplace to walk at lunch and also no work expectations of socializing in the cafeteria.

Even with that luck, however, the day is far more tied down when there's less sunlight.  I found out last year that, if you've got seasonal depression, the best time to be out in the sun is between 10 am and 2 pm.  From November through February, if possible, the rest of my daily schedule revolves around that.  I feel like a miser, hoarding the sunshine. 

Spring feels so freeing - I can take a walk or garden at any time of the day!  Summer gets a bit bound down again because I get really loopy if I garden in 90 degree heat for too long.  Since I can happily spend an entire day gardening, I don't care to just be limited to the mornings and evenings... when the mosquitoes are most intense. Still, I can easily get all the sun I need.  I forget that I have seasonal depression. 

It's not even 5 pm, yet, and the sunlight has disappeared off of even the tallest trees.  I gardened as long as I could, even though my knee was screaming at me and I was limping around the yard, just to be doing something active in the little bit of sunshine left.  I end up envying our neighbors this time of year because the sunlight shines on their house thirty minutes after it's set on ours.  There will be a little more sunlight in the late afternoon once the leaves are off the trees... and everything looks gray and dreary until March. 

I'm not sure it's better or worse going to the mountains right before the time change.  We spend lots of time out hiking in the sun (and lots in the rain and snow this year) so we feel filled up with sunshine, only to come home and feel like the heliotic rug is pulled out from under us a week later when the time changes. 

[Note:  Yes, I have a light box.  It keeps the depression from becoming despair.  That was a dramatic difference the first year I used it.  However, it only varies the degree of depression; it doesn't make me cheerful.]

[Photo: View of the Black Mountains from Bear Den Overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway in NC.  A day that filled us with sun.]

Resistance, even if futile

It takes me a while to transition back from vacation to normal life.  When we go on our two week vacation every October, we usually get back on a Friday.  While we're unpacking, I gather up the two weeks' pile of mail and put it out of the way.  By Saturday, I may listen to the answering machine, but I also may not.  I usually try to avoid the computer until late on Sunday.  That was even easier this year because it died while we were gone, and dear husband had to reconstruct it.  Monday, I finally go through the mail and put all the bills on my desk.  It may take a week or more to deal with the rest of it (the dregs are still sitting over there on the small shelf). 

I love our October vacations.  They're beautiful, peaceful, and filled with good books, music, and conversation.  Not that we just sit around; we hike in the mornings and afternoons with a little reading/writing/painting/playing time after lunch.  We wander through new roads in the mountains to see what we find.  We get snacks at new coffee shops.  We sit and watch the sunset from the Bass Lake or various Blue Ridge Parkway overlooks, then we rush back to the car to get warm as the temperature drops.  In the evening, we play games, do puzzles, read, have long conversations, or go for night hikes.  

 After a vacation spent focusing on beautiful scenery, good books and music, good food (dear husband is an excellent cook (and he actually enjoys it!!), and I don't cook for two weeks), and wonderful time spent with the people I love the most, I don't want to get back into normal life.  I do so resentfully.

 

People, of course, help.  When we got back this time, I got teary a few times when older son got home from his day at NCSU (this made me look forward to coming home more than I ever have before).  Our neighbor came over and talked for a few minutes as we were emptying out the van.   I always call my mother to let her know we're back and to catch up on things. 

I know that people are also behind the electronic things, but, somehow, it doesn't feel the same.  I hate going through the e-mail, snail mail, and the answering machine.  Even Facebook, as much as I enjoy it, felt like an assault the first time I looked at it again.  So many different people to focus on in such a short time.  I go into a different frame of mind on vacation, let's call it "thoughtfully slower," and I like it. 

I'm always amazed when people dive back in.  I guess they feel rejuvenated and happy to get back to regular life.  Maybe it says something strange about me that I'm not ready to dive back in, even after two weeks. 

I just happened to listen to the answering machine the first night we were home.  Mainly, I just wanted to clear out all the "Hi, it's me" messages I left for older son (we screen calls so I had to talk to the machine when I called).  Given the number of messages on the machine, I didn't think that there was much else on there.  It turned out that there was a message we needed to hear the first evening because it had to do with the following morning.  I remarked to dear husband that I was amazed that the caller thought we'd get it that evening, "Who listens to the machine the first few hours they're home?!"  Dear husband replied that most people do, and that I was the odd one. 

This post was prompted by The eternal conference call at Rough Type:  Nicholas Carr's Blog.  Here, he discusses the phone and e-mail: 

...Remember when we first started using email, back in the foggy depths of the twentieth century? The great thing about email, everyone said and everyone believed, was that it was an asynchronous communications medium. (Yes, that's how we used to talk.) Email cured the perceived shortcomings of telephone calls, which dominated our work lives. The ring of your phone would butt into whatever you happened to be doing at that moment, and you had no choice but to answer the damn thing (it might be your boss or your client, after all), and then you had no choice but to respond immediately to whatever the person on the another end was saying or asking...

Email delivered us from the telephone's realtime stream. Suddenly, we controlled, individually, our main communications medium, rather than vice versa. We could choose when to read our email, and, more important, we could choose when to respond - and whom to respond to... Even taking just a few minutes to think about a message often led to a more thoughtful response than an immediate, halfbaked phone reply.

However, there are still expectations of timeliness in e-mail.  I usually take a while to come up with a good response, but if it takes me a few hours of on and off thought, I may get a few more e-mails about the same thing.  I also only check my e-mail a few times a day -  more often if it's rainy and dreary.  If it's a beautiful sunny day in the 60's or 70's, I may not check it at all.*  

Nicholas Carr's post goes on to discuss IM, which I don't do, cell phones,** which I now have one of but only use with daughter and older son (dear husband can call me if he's not at work (explaining that would make this post twice as long)), and Google Wave, which I had to Google because I hadn't heard of it.  He concludes:

The approaching Wave promises us the best of both worlds: the realtime immediacy of the phone call with the easy broadcasting capacity of email. Which is also, as we'll no doubt come to discover, the worst of both worlds. Welcome to the conference call that never ends. Welcome to Wave hell.

No Wave hell for me.  I'm on vacation. 

*  This may prompt you to ask how to best get in touch with me if you absolutely can't wait a few hours for a response.  Coming to the door always works.  I only hide when door to door salespeople/evangelists come around. If you call me around lunchtime, I'll probably answer because it's after we're done with the morning's homeschooling and before we get into our afternoon plans.  However, if we're in the middle of eating or having a wonderful after-lunch conversation,*** even that won't work. After dinner used to be good, but now, with older son at college and daughter at work a few days a week, that's the glorious time when we all may be together.  Really, I'm not all that interesting, and you probably don't want to talk to me anyway.  

** I get calls so seldom that, when the cell phone rings, younger son has to remind me what that strange music means.  If I'm driving when it rings, he has to answer it, or it goes unanswered. 

*** By the way, if you're over here, I'll do the same thing.  I don't usually answer the phone when I'm talking to guests. 

[Note:  The title is a reference to the Star Trek aliens called the Borg.  They're part person/part machine, their goal is to take over everything, and their motto is "Resistance is futile."  We think that people wearing Blue...tooths, Blueteeth(?) look Borgified (to the right, Next Generation's Captain Picard as a Borg).]

[Photos:  Top:  The Black Mountains.  Second:  Dear husband and younger son flying kites and helicopter...things at what we call the "Kite meadow" on Flat Top Mountain.  Third:  Sunset from the beginning of the Flat Top Mountain trail.  Bottom: A hike at Doughton Park.] 

Writing

I've posted lots of pictures and music lately, but very little writing.  I actually have been writing; in fact, I have seven posts full of writing that I haven't posted.  I've haven't posted them because I've been, I think, overly worried that they would offend someone.  My older kids said that maybe I need to start a new blog for posts like that.  I like Moomin Light, though, and don't want to move away from it.  After our fall vacation, I'm going to start posting them.  Just warning you that I'll be more opinionated.

[Right:  Roan Mountain, NC/TN (I don't remember which side we were on) in 2008.]

A rare political post...

... which, being that I'm an independent, always has the possibility of making everyone angry.

A year ago, as then Senator Obama became the front runner for the Democrats and Senator McCain for the Republicans, it actually looked like a fairly good choice for a change.  Unusually, they seemed the best of the electable candidates of their respective political parties.  Even some Democratic papers and magazines had good words to say about Senator McCain - before he became the nominee, of course.  Both choices looked possible, and I wouldn't have to hold my nose and vote for the candidate I disliked the least, which happens all too often.

Then Senator McCain chose Governor Palin, who hadn't even served one term yet, as his vice-presidential candidate. Why?  She certainly wasn't the most qualified Republican governor, and she also wasn't the most qualified Republican woman. 

For whatever reason, the choice showed deplorable judgment.  I don't care about her baby, her daughter's baby, or even her current political problems, however they turn out.  She had neither the state executive experience or the national legislative experience necessary for a president.  This was particularly important in Senator McCain's case since his age and his previous health problems increased the probability that he would not finish a presidential term.

This is not to say that Senator McCain's age or health were a reason not to vote for him.  It does mean that his choice of a vice presidential candidate was far more important than for many presidents.   The last time we had a president that age, President Reagan, his choice, Vice-President Bush, was quite capable of stepping in if anything happened to President Reagan.

For me, Senator McCain's choice of Governor Palin as his vice-presidential running mate sealed my vote for Senator Obama - regardless of whether I agreed or disagreed with various positions that Senator Obama's campaign took.  Although his experience in the Senate was also not lengthy, he chose an experienced vice-presidential candidate who was strong in areas where Senator Obama wasn't (for instance, foreign policy).  

Senator McCain's choice of Governor Palin also made me doubtful of his ability to wisely choose those who would serve in his cabinet and those he would nominate for the Supreme Court.

Now, I'm not impressed with Judge Sotomayor so far, and I dislike some of the directions that President Obama is heading.  On the other hand, his choice of a vehement political opponent, Senator Clinton, as Secretary of State has turned out far better than I had expected.

Since the election, I have avoided most articles and blogs about Governor Palin.  At times, I've stopped reading The Daily Dish because of its bizarre focus on her and her family.  I have recently read a bit about her resignation, and what I've read has confirmed my choice not to vote for the McCain/Palin ticket.

Anyone who does not have the internal fortitude to stay the course and finish out their term as governor of Alaska does not have the steel and backbone it takes to be the President of the United States.

A Second Riff on Breakfast with Pandora: On blogs, Facebook, reality shows, and aerobics

There are a number of blog posts that have been floating around in my head lately, but they hadn't coalesced until I read Facebook and the Greek Heroization of America at Breakfast with Pandora. Now, they've all come together in one long post. 

Now, as I wrote in A Riff on Breakfast with Pandora OR The Purpose of Blog-Reading AND "You're Not There" by Pierce Pettis, BwP and I seem to have very different approaches to online interactions (and he's far better at writing brief titles). Although I differ with BwP, I'm not criticizing (even though this is a lengthy post). 

In his very thoughtful post, which you should go read in its entirety, BwP discusses how recent innovations have changed the previous anonymity of everyday life:

...But now, with the reality show culture, video blogs, Facebook, Twitter, and the rest, potentially all of us are now in a global competition for eyeballs, as we consider the most ordinary details of our everyday lives worthy of being published to at least our larger set of friends and acquaintances.

We are becoming the poets of our own myths, in 140 character plus segments.

We are becoming micromythologists...

I can see his point, and it makes lots of sense.

But it is so foreign to me. 

Not that I don't like having people read my blog.  I definitely enjoy it when more people read (and comment), but that's not my major goal, and it certainly wasn't the goal I started with* (although, if you want to make me happier, you could go check out our new blog, (grin)). 

In many ways, it's similar to teaching aerobics.  Some aerobics instructors have huge classes, others don't, and I've usually been somewhere in the middle.  The huge classes are definitely an adrenalin rush to teach, but a small class of enthusiastic participants really makes me just as happy. 

If only one person shows up?  I try to throw myself into teaching that one person just as much as I would throw myself into teaching a large class.  That's part of professionalism. 

Earlier this week, I came up with a fun Broadway/aerobic routine to Greased Lightning, and I was disappointed that I wouldn't get to share it with the class I've taught for six years at the club that closed two weeks ago.  I know that they really would have gotten a kick out of it.

Two weeks ago, I went back to visit the class, which I still couldn't take, knee-wise, in order to say "Hello again/goodbye" before the club closed.  The class was only a shadow of its former self, number-wise.  The club was fairly deserted, and the lights even seemed dimmer, but I was glad to see people again.  I've enjoyed interacting with them for six years, and they've been an inspiration to me as far as choreographing routines.  They pretty much  have been able to do whatever I've thrown at them, though some did it high-impact and others low. And they loved the Broadway routines. 

I'm really going to miss them. 

There's the intellectual side to choreographing the routines, which includes making sure that all the muscle groups are used and the moves are varied enough.  There's the more artistic side, making sure the moves go with the music and that it all flows well.  I can do all of those making up moves at home.  But it's the interaction and enthusiasm (mine and theirs) that make it all come alive in a class. 

It's the same with blogging.  I can enjoy putting the ideas together.  Actually, I hate proofreading and editing.  I do them because then the ideas come across better and a connection may happen. 

Would I rather write something that a thousand people read but don't necessarily understand, or would I rather write something that five people understand and connect with? 

Five.  

Do I consider "the most ordinary details of our everyday lives worthy of being published" (emphasis mine) to be the point of blogging (or Facebook updating) about myself and my everyday concerns? 

No.  I don't consider them worthy.  That's part of why I'm a quiet person.  I don't push myself forward or expect people to listen to me.  I'm amazed at those who do put themselves forward.

However, I blog, or Facebook, because I know someone out there is concerned or interested, whether they are family, friends, readers, or casual, internet passersby.  On Facebook, it would be nice if the  notices could be more specific.  Not everyone that I have as a Facebook friend wants to know my results for the "What musical are you?" quiz (Phantom of the Opera).  The same is true with blogging.  Some people may read the musicals posts and skip the homeschooling ones, or vice versa.  I don't expect everything I write to be equally interesting to all readers.  

Back to BwP:

...Maybe we will get tired of hearing each other's stories, and loading up on those microbursts of pleasure and satisfaction from hearing about someone's trip to the DMV with Junior ("They grow up so fast!") or that someone else had papaya for breakfast (I read it, Beth. Brava!)...

I've had my DMV story (What I Didn't Say/"The One Who Knows" - Dar Williams).   It's actually one of the posts I was the most pleased with - complete with book references, a Star Wars quote, and a beautiful Dar Williams song.  I like the way it flowed from beginning to end. 

And, although it's a familiar story and old hat to many, some people will connect with it (I can name a few (grin)). 

As far as reading is concerned, the subject of a story also matters.  If a story says something about the person, I'll find that more interesting than a story that just seems to be recounting details.  The latter I find harder to focus on. 

Maybe this emphasis is because I'm at such a busy stage of my life.  I can write and be interested in analytical posts.  But the only ones I usually carve out time to write are the ones where my emotions are more involved.

The same is true for reading.  Because of our busy summer, I haven't had much time for blog reading.  I keep up with (online and offline) friends' blogs and with a few informational blogs.  Besides those, however, the blogs I'm most likely to read right now are ones where I feel something in common with the blogger - often personal blogs and momblogs.  They may write about very common experiences, but they're writing well, and, in general, without a need to show off or condemn others (in other words, I'm not spending much time on political blogs). 

I don't have an opinion on Twitter or video blogs because I don't know much about either, and I don't understand the appeal of Twitter.  I would have agreed about the reality shows.  After all, why would someone join one, and risk embarrassment and failure on prime time TV, if they didn't want fame and lots of people looking at them?

However,  my daughter pointed out, recently, you get a different view if you look at the interviews with the dancers on So You Think You Can Dance.  Although many dancers do mention the fame first, and I'm sure all would like it, many of them emphasize the opportunity to dance many different styles, from ballroom to Bollywood, choreographed by excellent artists, as their primary incentive to join the competition.

The first Riff on Breakfast with Pandora was about reading blogs; this second one is more about writing them. For me, blogging is about expression, and creativity (and proofreading), but also about connection.  I'm happy that I still occasionally get comments on my Christian themes in Rent post from people who can relate to it in some way and who like what I expressed. 

Does every post bring a connection?  I don't know, but I always hope, and I've gotten to enjoy the writing also.  Not as much as I enjoy taking photographs or choreographing, but, being not a very verbal person,** I was surprised to find that I enjoyed it at all.  Being a very quiet person, I was even more amazed to find an audience.

Thank you. 

 

*  Actually, the reason I started my blog was to give myself a reason to practice writing.  I'm really amazed (and quite happy) that you guys read it (grin).

** Remember, it's not polite to mention the length of my posts when I say that! 

[It's lily and delphinium time in the gardens.  Older son took the photo of the gladiolas in the vase.]

[Hey, look:  One of my favorite aerobics instructor/trainers just accepted my Facebook friend request!]

"Fame" redone

For, I suppose, obvious reasons, the original Fame is one of my favorite movies. The NC School of the Arts (which I attended and loved) wasn't that much like the high school in Fame, but the energy and intensity were familiar. 

Why have they remade Fame?!

 

After we saw the Fame trailer (before seeing Up) I wasn't sure whether I wanted to see it.  However, after thinking about it, how can I not see a musical with (what looks like) fairly good dancing?!

It looks "prettied up" compared to the original movie [and no dancing on cars :( (From the original, to the right)].  From the trailer, the characters seem to have less personality than the ones in the original, but I'll try to keep an open mind.* 

I wish they had just written new songs and not redone the ones from the original - particularly the new hip hop "Fame."  It loses the driving energy the original had and sort of lopes along.  I can enjoy hip hop, but not this one. 

Now, why can't they redo the movie of A Chorus Line?!  The movie version is such a bad reflection of the stage musical that I refused to rent it for my older kids to watch.  They had to wait until a touring production came around.

• Another Fame trailer 

* Kherington Payne, a good dancer, but one of my least favorites on last year's So You Think You Can Dance, plays the role of the rich ballet dancer (...trying to keep an open mind...).

A Post I Shouldn't Write...

...because mothers aren't supposed to say these kinds of things. 

Here's how it's supposed to go:

Other:  So, what's [18 year old child's name] going to do next fall?
Mother:  Oh, they've gotten into their first choice college, and I'm so excited!
Other:  So, you're going to miss them?
Mother:  Maybe a bit, but I'm just so glad they're doing what they want!

Many parents are totally comfortable with this.  I don't understand it, but I envy it. 

I say exactly the same thing, but there's far more behind it which I don't say.

Why?

Because, if you say any more, you're a clingy parent who doesn't know how to let go.  You're too emotionally invested in your kids.  You need more of an adult life.

And, if you homeschool, it's even worse.  You must be even clingier.  You just homeschool so that your kids don't get exposed to any values but yours.   They'll never develop their own personalities, their own interests, their own values.  They'll just be clones of you.

Maybe there are families like this.  I don't know them.

I haven't written anything of any substance on my blog for almost a month.  I haven't cared to, and I haven't even cared about the blog, really.  The largest thing on my emotional landscape right now is something I felt I couldn't write about, or even talk about to anyone besides dear husband, because mothers who feel this way shouldn't discuss it. 

I finally decided to write it anyway. 

It's long, and very rambling, because I'm going to say everything I want to say.

Well, almost everything.

Beginning

It started when the weather started getting hot.  I've known since last fall that older son was finally going to college, but it's finally really hitting me now because, when the weather gets cool again, he'll be off.  Oh, he'll still be at home in the evenings, but the homeschooling/part time job chapter of his life will be done.  His life, and ours, will change dramatically.

My emotions are also pushed along by what daughter's been doing - researching and visiting colleges and stressing herself out for the SAT and AP's.  She'll be applying next year, and she won't be living at home, though it is cheaper to stay in state. 

At this point, though I fight it, almost everything makes me cry.  Yesterday at church, when we were singing a hymn in unison, I could quite plainly hear older son's voice, back in the bass section, above the whole congregation, and it made me teary.  If they notice my frequent use of kleenex, I hope the other sopranos will chalk it up to allergies.

There, I've said it.  Not only that I'm sad that they're heading off soon, but that I also cry about it.  Often. 

Bad mother! 

{Say this one sarcastically} Riiiiiiight.

That was the introduction.  Here's the meat. 

 I'll start with the "need an adult life" part because it's the funniest one when applied to me.  In the time I've been raising and homeschooling my kids I've

• Gone all the way through graduate school, getting a Master of Arts in Liberal Studies with a self-designed concentration on how societies influence creativity (6 years, part-time)
• Designed a computer program for the sales division of a computer company to automate their sales progress from the initial quote to the final delivery.  Redesigned it when they went to a new system and kept updated. (5 years)  Although the company has been bought twice and my program has been absorbed into a new system, the basic structure of my program is still used - fifteen years after I first designed it.  [Dear husband told me to put in that last part.  Apparently that's a long lifespan for a program, even if it's just the skeleton.]
• Taught aerobics (16 years), after teaching myself how to teach aerobics by taking and analyzing lots of classes.  I didn't get certified to teach until I'd been teaching about five years, and the certification taught me very little that I didn't already know. 
• Did online research in various aspects of environmental health (five years), including large scale animal farming (CAFOs), urban designs for active living, and environmental health hazards.

Those are the larger ones.  I've also:

• Edited the newsletter and been on the board of one of our homeschooling groups.
• Taken Broadway dance and incorporated it into my aerobic routines.
• Gotten into singing lessons with the voice therapist who's been teaching me how to overcome my problem of weak vocal folds and undo years of aerobic damage.
• Joined choir.
• Been involved at the various churches we've attended over the years.
• Developed an interest in photography. 
• Learned how to garden.  I didn't know how to at all when I started.

I always need to be doing something new and challenging.  That being said, look back at how many of the challenges I designed myself. 

Get an adult life?  I've always had one, thank-you-very-much.

More challenges

My kids challenge me too.  Daughter took the Broadway dance class first.  Even though I had taught aerobics for years, I felt too un-dancer-ish to take it with her.  Dancers are supposed to be skinny and young.  I'm neither.  Why would I dance?

She and dear husband both talked me into it.  "Besides, there are women your age in the class," she argued.  Fortunately, for me, she wasn't good at estimating ages.  As it turned out, I was fifteen years older than anyone else in the class.  It didn't matter because I was hooked.

Broadway...

It's a major part of my blog, right?

So, it must have always been a major part of my life?

Wrong.

I listened to, and attended, lots of musicals in high school, college, and up until we had kids.  I eventually stopped, however.  The Broadway tapes went in the cabinet; the records went in the closet.  I had very few Broadway CDs.

Then daughter pulled the long-neglected tapes out of the cabinet one day when she was around 10 or 11 and fell in love with musicals.  She's always on the lookout for new things to learn, new music, new dance, new books, etc.  She doesn't just stick with what I've introduced her to. 

She got me back into musicals, then introduced me to Rent, Wicked, and Rags. She's also gotten me into more popular music, and into books I don't normally read (Memoirs of a Geisha is waiting on the shelf).  Older son shares his fascination with insects and his attention to the smallest details of the landscape - any landscape: fictional, natural, musical, etc.  Younger son has been more mechanically inclined, but has lately developed a strong interest in history.  While cleaning the playroom the other day, out of the blue, he asked if I thought that Cuba would ever work well (with a different government).  The day before, he wanted to know the causes of World War I, which led to a long discussion with dear husband. 

By the way, how do you get those kids who don't go any farther than what their parents want or do?  Mine aren't like that.  Read older son's most recent blog post.  Here's a brief quote:

Mist-wolves pad through the towns and forests on silent cloud paws, passing like fog-furred ghosts over the rooftops. After spending the Winter as sleeping layers of frost, they seem happy to be moving again. It's considered good luck if one of their intangible paws lands on you.

I enjoy fantasy, but I don't write it.  Dear husband is an artist and a writer, but older son's art and writing are uniquely his own. 

Clones?  Not likely.  Daughter's gone farther in dance than I could ever dream.  Older son has gone in a far different artistic direction than dear husband.  If there's anything they've gotten from us, it's to constantly be really looking at things, questioning, learning, and creating.  They're both also extremely disciplined in the things they care about.

Okay, if that's cloning, I'm happy to be accused.

Being really pushy (not me, them)

They also push me emotionally. 

Daughter mentioned today that we've been attending this church for almost seven years. 

Seven years, and I'm still not comfortable there, except in choir. 

[Here, I deleted a long section which explained, in greater detail than I have done before, why everything at church is so angsty.  I liked the way the section turned out, but it really wasn't necessary.]

I've written before about how difficult it was for me to try to join the choir.  Older son already being in it didn't help because the choir is always in need of basses.  I'd already been turned down four times for the instrumental music teams.  I majored in music on the flute, not in voice.  If I couldn't volunteer in my strength, why would I be accepted in the choir?  At that point, I'd only been singing again for less than half a year, and I'd been in voice therapy for a year after almost totally losing my voice. Not a great choir candidate.

I thought my choir idea was silly, and I had a very difficult time thinking about it because of my previous experiences.  Dear husband, no longer being at church, could argue, but could not persuade.

Daughter worked the most at it.  She has become quite adept at arguing with me - logically. This leads me to a question:   If your children are clones of you, does that mean that they always agree with you, or does it mean that they become as good at arguing as you are (grin)?!

Eventually, they convinced me to try.  Still, I was sure I would be turned down.

A few hours after I sent an e-mail asking, I was amazed to get one in reply from the choir director who enthusiastically welcomed me to choir. 

Be careful what you say to me in e-mail.  I may save it (grin).  I did that one. 

Dichotomy?

Why does it have to be a dichotomy?  Either you're ready to let your kids go - emotionally stable, grown up, etc. OR you're a pathetic wreck who clings too much and is sad they're going.  You can't be both ready (or at least willing) to let them go and also sad that they will do so?!

I've told my kids for years that I will be sad and teary when they go off to college, and that this in no way should ever influence their choices (that's why I warned them ahead of time). 

I try not to burden others with my emotions.  If you know me in person, I may seem very self-controlled.  However, I'm actually a highly emotional person (For example, I get teary when I read The Littlest Angel)(At a young age, my kids get used to me being sniffly).  I may fool (some of) the rest of you, but my kids know that I'm very emotional.  They've also learned, however, that emotions don't dictate what you do. 

I can be glad they're doing what they want, and I can also be extremely sad that they're leaving.  It doesn't mean I'm going to cling to them or hold them back. 

Why I will be sad

Here are a few snapshots of our day today.

I dropped daughter off at her AP Biology exam.  Younger son has been sick with a fever for the last half week so I assumed that he'd spend the morning sleeping or listening to a book on tape.  He's reached an age where he doesn't like to be bothered when he doesn't feel well.  I planned on getting things organized around the house during the morning.

Instead, he was fever free and alert when I got home.  I finished reading The Magician's Nephew to him while he ate a bit of breakfast.  He reads plenty of books on his own, but I still like to read out loud because we end up talking about the books during the reading.  When we finished, he mentioned that he'd like to do something together so I jettisoned the organizing from my mental day-timer.  Okay, I jettisoned the entire mental day-timer, and we started on a puzzle. 

Older son went to pick up daughter, and I made a nice-and-warm-on-a-cool-rainy-day/younger-son-is-better/daughter's-last-test-is-done* brownie for lunch.  Younger son was waning so he had lunch with the Cartoon Network.  The other three of us had a long discussion on the revelation of some of the Cylons on Battlestar Galactica (we just finished watching season three), how that revelation will effect the other characters, and who remains.  We talked about the difference between a movie we recently watched and the book it came from.  Then the conversation drifted off into current affairs (heavily influenced by the recent Economist magazine), including the interactions between China and Japan, why Obama is considered a young president, and the increase of Roma emigration from the Czech Republic to Canada.**

In between and during other things, older son and I have been harmonizing on the bass and soprano parts of the psalms we're working on in choir. 

I'm writing this at 4 pm.  We'll have a bit of quiet time, then more interesting conversation during dinner and watching a movie together.

Why should I be glad when all this is gone?  - the singing, the book discussions, the political discussions, the conversations with three young people who think about everything.  When all three are off at college or beyond, dear husband and I will still enjoy these conversations, but they'll be two-sided, not five.  And we don't sing together.*** 

Here, for one brief moment, I will, again, be absolutely and totally honest.

For the last twenty-one years, I've thrown the majority of my energy, emotions, and considerable intellect into raising, homeschooling, interacting with, exploring with, advising, being pushed by, and loving, three wonderful human beings.  I've always encouraged them to follow what they love - that's the largest reason for homeschooling - where it takes them.

Of course it will take them away.  And, it will break my heart, because, of all the possible things I could envision (including being in Broadway musicals (grin)), I can't picture any "job" I could have had that I would love better than homeschooling.  Being with three people I absolutely love, every day, talking about a wide variety of subjects,**** showing them the things I love, exploring what they love, getting through the things that neither of us care about,***** building layer upon layer of "in jokes," "in songs," shared books, movies, places, etc., watching as they grow - this engages my mind, my emotions, and my musical sensibilities.  You can't come up with a job that's going to do more.  No other job will ever involve this much of me - body,****** mind, and spirit. 

Of course I'm going to be immensely sad when it's over - or even when any part of it is. 

And I'm not going to apologize for that.

And a Broadway song to take it home

I put this post together while taking a walk today.  "Open a New Window," from Mame, came up on my mp3 player, and I repeated it over and over.  It goes along with this post in so many ways.

Unfortunately, my web browser crashes every time I try to add the embedded music player to this post so I had to put the song in another post.  Click here to listen. 

* She's been stressed about the SAT and APs.

**  The conversations I have with dear husband and my kids are more consistently far ranging than those I have with almost anyone else.  

*** I don't know why.

**** I majored in math.  Do you know how often I get to discuss it?  Only when homeschooling.  Older son finds it as fascinating as I do.

***** Handwriting.

****** Broadway dance, for instance

[Written Monday but posted today because of my internet problems.  The flowers are in our gardens, and I took the sunset photo from our front porch.]