The weekend was as full as I could make it. This is partially because I'm dealing with an emptiness inside - one that I'm trying to fill in meaningful ways. For the most part, I'm finding success, although there's still an angry part of me that won't be denied. I don't want to feel angry. I really don't. Anger is draining, and I'm not even going to waste space here explaining why I feel angry. This part of me will grow smaller in time, I hope. The emptiness will be filled. Life will go on.

In some ways, I feel like I've found new purpose, and new strength. The only problem is I don't consistently feel this way yet. Changes are being made though, and things are happening.

The damn computer died today too. It refuses to boot up, so it looks like I'm going to be spending more time at work so I can use the computers there (or should I say "here"?).

Willow had her last soccer game this weekend, and a pizza party afterwards. She also went on a playdate with her friend, H. Between those two events, we went to a barbeque at a friend's house on one of those lonely hills rising above Highway 87 in San Jose, and Willow got to meet a cat who was part Bobcat. The cat had never seen anybody Willow's size before, and spent most of the time peering at her with widened eyes from behind some conveniently placed piece of furniture.

Slightly less successful, from Willow's point of view, was the potluck at Sempervirons Outdoor School. She wasn't too excited about the food (excluding the fudge, which we made) and was on the verge of turning into a pumpkin by 6 PM. We left early, and she fell asleep in the car on the way home. We didn't really have anytime to relax this weekend, but I'm noticing that Willow isn't doing much better with down time than I am. She has a tendency to get weepy and ask questions about why I'm no longer living with her mom. My heart goes out to her, so I hold her close and comfort her.

It makes us both feel better.

We're doing our version of Saturday morning cartoons this morning. We don't watch TV, and I don't plan on ever having cable, so Willow is watching a dvd.

There's something to be said for starting the day slowly. When left to my own devices, I'm a slow starter in the morning. Back when we lived together, Jen used to get really pissed at me for taking the time to read the paper in the morning. I can kind of see her point. Mornings were always full of chaos and complaining kids who couldn't find essential things. Add that to the fact that these same kids were often reluctant to get up at all, and you didn't have a happy scene. It kind of ironic that, now that I live alone, I don't read the paper. When I moved, I decided not to order it at the new place, mostly for financial reasons. I don't miss it as much as I thought I would. This made me wonder why I was so insistent on reading it in the first place. The only answer I have is because it was there, and because I form habits easily. Back then, with the paper, I would often be grouchy all day if I didn't get to read it. Now that I never read it, I'm fine.

I still have a computer habit though.

I've been journaling, in one form or another, for over 13 years now. I was a bit of a late bloomer as far as this kind of record-keeping is concerned, starting at 27. I didn't start blogging until 2002, at which time I virtually abandoned the more traditional hand-written journaling I had been doing up until then. A recent comment by a reader of this site, L, has prompted me to reflect on the nature of public journaling for a moment.

When I made the jump from the written page to the glowing screen, I had to decide what I was comfortable sharing with the world. A lot of my paper journaling concerned itself with personal growth, and a lot of my desire for personal growth was prompted by the relationship I was in at the time I started journaling. It was a relationship that, for a number of reasons, was never really meant to be, but it was definitely an interesting experience and I learned a lot. I ended my attempts to make that relationship work when Jen came into my life, and a couple of years later, following in Jen's footsteps, started this blog.

At the beginning, the blog stayed at the surface - social commentary, strange humor, and at its worst, mere reporting of the events of my days. One of the reasons for this, of course, was that I was happy, and there wasn't any pain to reveal. Sure, there were moments of pain, such as Willow's premature birth and other health problems, and Jen's own hospital stays, but for the most part, I kept the mask on. Even as our marital problems grew, I didn't let on that there was anything wrong, and I'm not just talking about my blog posts - I didn't talk about it either. If you go back into the archives and read between the lines, noticing that the frequency and quality of the posts dipped a bit, perhaps you might, in retrospect, see the unhappiness there. I was stuck, and didn't know quite what to do. I didn't know how to fix things. At the end, I did my best, but at that point, it wasn't enough.

Back in September (or was it August?) I actually started another blog in which I dug more deeply into the core of my being than I ever have on these pages. I didn't tell anybody about it, and I'm not going to include a link now. That increased level of anonymity was liberating. The self-imposed boundaries of public writing slipped away. I kept it up for a month or so, until about the time I went public with the dissolution of our marriage on this site. That in itself was another liberating moment. It was a public airing of pain, which is something I'm not used to doing. I think it was the fact that at the same time I was writing about it, I was talking about it. My family, friends, and co-workers all offered support. New friends and new-old friends came into my life and supported me. People shared their own divorce stories with me, and listened to mine. I found that I had more friends than I thought I did.

For me, at least, this public airing of my feelings is part of the healing process. I am humbled by my experience - taken down a notch, if you will, and that has allowed me to more fully connect with those around me. Another reason I chose to put this all out there on the internet is that I've always had a tremendous amount of respect for artists, authors, and musicians who publicly voice their pain (look at Frida Kahlo, or Michael Gira, for example). Real emotions make for powerful art. True artists dig deeply. I'm inspired by that.

I hope that clarifies things for those, like L, who wonder why I do this. I don't dig as deeply here as I do in my more traditional journal (which I have also taken up writing in again), but my recent experiences have certainly broadened the scope of what I'm willing to write about in public.

We're all in this together, after all.

I must have a touch of lunacy, because I'm feeling a weird, directionless energy right now. Outside, the full moon hangs in the sky like it owns it. There's just enough moisture in the air to soften its edges a bit, lending a touch of unreality to the scene.

I'm going to try and hang onto this energy and utilize it somehow.

I just realized that I've been living in my apartment for exactly 2 months now. I suppose that doesn't really mean anything, but like it or not, we're all slaves to numbers to a certain extent, so I thought I'd mark this numerical milestone with some words.

In some ways, it seems like I've lived here longer. I have new routines, some of which are due to school, and some of which are due to my reduced time with the kids. I have a new neighborhood, which I'm still exploring. For example, last night when I was on a quest for a jumbo-sized rat, I found out that the pet store down the street just sells fish. I also discovered that there's a vegetarian cafe within walking distance. The next step is to see if the food there is palatable. I'm also enjoying the fact that I can have music playing all the time because there are no nearby kids trying to watch movies.

I'm having a hard time reconciling my old life with the new. It's still hard to be over at the old house when I'm taking care of the kids, and it's often hard for me to talk to Jen. This tends to make all the memories (good and bad) and the pain come rushing back in. At times like this, I'm reminded that I'm still very much in transition. It has been a long while since I was last truly single - around 15 years, in fact. There were virtually no gaps between my last three relationships, although the one in the middle was so off-again-on-again that I'm still not sure how to classify it. I wasn't really single though - just confused. As for the future, I'm trying to keep busy and work on maintenance, which is always something I've been lax with. I need to be better at following through with the choices I make, rather than starting strongly and losing my way as time wears on.

In another month it will be almost Christmas, and my 41st birthday will have come and gone. I'm not sure what the holiday season is going to be like for me yet. It may be hard, but then again if I focus my energies in the right way, it might be okay. Time will tell.

Today, I've got to go get my TB test read in a couple of hours. I don't have TB, of course, but the world runs on bits of official paper - at least until all the trees are gone.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the dentist for the first time in over a decade.

Right now, I'm listening to the soundtrack to Frida. Great film. Great music. Great artist.

My work week began with vomit. This is actually not that uncommon. If you're in charge of nearly 200 kids, there's always going to be at least 1 or 2 of them vomiting, or peeing, or doing something else equally objectionable. The first kid vomited out of sheer homesickness. The second, a cabin leader, emptied the contents of his dinner into the camp office's recycling basket at about 2 AM. At least he made it into some sort of container. I'm thankful for that.

Other than that, it looks like it's shaping up to be pretty good week.

Of course, this morning I drove nearly all the way to the school where I student teach before being tipped off by the lack of rush-hour traffic that something was amiss. That's when it hit me. It's Veteran's Day. Shit. No school. I turned around and went home. There's a lesson in this somewhere. I think the lesson is, "get more sleep." Wish I could.

I'm loving the cloudy, breezy weather. Most of the music in my collection lends itself to these kinds of weather conditions, so I'm getting the full aesthetic effect at the moment.

At the moment, Mondays have become my "get shit done" days. I don't have to be at work until the evening, so I have a whole day to catch up on schoolwork, clean the apartment, and tie up any other loose ends that need attention. Today's loose end involved getting a TB test, something I have to get done every four years if I want to continue working with children. Apparently, TB is on the rise in this area, so I guess it's good to get checked out occasionally. Still, the chances of picking something else up while languishing in a crowded waiting-room are probably pretty high. I forgot to bring a book too, so had to stare at the wall and lose myself in my thoughts. Not completely pretty in there yet.

I've got less than a month to go in the second-to-last term of my teaching credential program, and less than a month until my 41st birthday. At the moment, my emotions are a confusing mixture of sadness, anger, optimism, and pretty much everything in between. It's strange to be single again after so many years, but in some ways it's good for me (or so I keep telling myself). It's almost as if I've had to re-learn how to be single. I'm still learning the ins and outs of the new neighborhood too, and marveling at the number of places within easy walking distance.

Currently listening to: Grey Force Wakeford "Marble Heart"

I went out to take in some live music last night, but since it was music, I wrote about it on my music blog. The show was in San Francisco, a city where I used to spend a lot more time than I do now. There's something to be said for city life though - unlike the suburbs, everything is so compact. Unlike in suburbia, walking makes sense. Groups of people in animated discussion with each other barrel along on the sidewalks (true, much of the discussion seems to deal with what bar to hit up next, or getting laid, or some such), lights paint the surroundings with color and shadow, cars, bikes, and pedestrians weave in and out, and high above, the lonely moon looks down. There's an edge to the proceedings that is wholly missing in suburbia. Also, the city is where the majority of the interesting (to me, anyway) cultural events take place.

Of course, the city sucks away money. Getting to the city sucks away money too. That's a problem. I have to remind myself that the money gets sucked away no matter where I am, and not worry so much about it.

Now, back in suburbia, I'm going to go be a soccer dad for a bit. Willow is developing into a good little soccer player (as are the other kids). I watched her and Sophie run around with a soccer ball at Alex's practice yesterday, and it was great to see how skilled they've become. It's good to see the kids running around outside. The forecast says it might rain, and currently the sky is a uniform gray.

Bring it on.

Another work week has been consigned to the dust-bin of history. The kids this week presented a multitude of disciplinary challenges, and at one point, even some of the teachers had issues with each other. The mice are still rampant, but more of them got snapped up in traps, including at least a couple in one of the boys' cabins. Oh, and there was another lice outbreak, but all of the buggy kids had already been driven home by the time I got to work.

The weekend is just around the corner. I leave in a few minutes to pick up the kids from school. I look forward to seeing them, but don't look forward to spending time at my old house. I find that it's easiest for me when I'm doing things that don't have any relation to my old life. I've always been one of those people who needs to retreat to heal, but in my present situation, I can't completely do that, so I'm left with trying to juggle emotions.

Sometimes I drop them.

I have some plans for the rest of the weekend, but not as many as I would like. I've been trying to plan the weekends in advance, because if I don't do that, I often just stay home. Not that staying home is all bad. There is always plenty to keep me occupied at home.

Mice continue to be a problem up at camp. They skitter around inside the cabins at night, and I've seen them a number of times in the camp office and in the staff room. I've already mentioned the fact that they fill my shoes with pilfered nuts at night, but I haven't yet mentioned the measures that have been taken to eradicate them. Apparently, a couple of feral cats have been brought in to handle mouse control. These cats replace the ones who originally had the job. Those cats dwindled in number over the years, possibly becoming coyote snacks (speaking of which, I saw a dead coyote on the road the other day too - things are tough all over, I guess). At least one of those original cats came to a gruesome end when its warm, dry sleeping place inside the emergency generator came to an abrupt end one night when the power went out. Raccoons ate the pieces.

I have yet to see the cats, but I have seen the mousetraps. We're talking old-school, baited traps that snap down and kill mice. I'm not sure why they didn't look into getting live traps, but I guess then somebody would have to release all the mice somewhere, and we've already trapped nearly 20 of the little buggers, including one who had the trap snap down on its hind leg. That one I had to kill, which since I'm a reptile owner, I've had some practice doing. I still hate to do it though. After all, we're all just trying to survive as best we can on this small planet. Mice are disease carriers though, and the kids take priority in this case.

In a way, I blame myself for the mouse problem. Over the last few years, I've probably removed around 20 Rattlesnakes from the site, relocating them to less-frequented areas. Of course, fewer Rattlesnakes means more mice. Still, most people would rather have to deal with mice than Rattlesnakes.

Not that it's news any longer, but Obama did win, which is great. Prop 8 passed here in California, which isn't great at all. It's funny (by "funny", I mean "sad") that at the same time we finally have a president-elect who breaks the mold, there are still enough assholes in the world to continue denying rights to a group who apparently it's still okay to hate.

There are still a lot of racists in the world, but they're usually shot down pretty effectively when they open their ignorant mouths. I wish the same thing would happen to the homophobes. The success of Prop 8 serves as a reminder that we still have a long way to go as a society.

This is what happens when people continue to look to a 2000 year old book to tell them how to live their lives here in the 21st century. Or worse yet, when they listen to a person with an agenda interpret said book for his/her own nefarious purposes. Even so, they manage to pick and choose. Why do some people just seem to need to hate and/or fear other groups of people? It's not because it's in the Bible. People just use the Bible as an excuse. Still, I wish I could find the article that outlined all of the other crazy, outmoded ideas one can find within the pages of the Bible - such as the proper circumference of the switch husbands must use to beat their wives. I'll have to look around for it...

In the second grade classroom where I student teach, we had a mock election as part of a social studies lesson. Obama won. I can only hope that this microcosm will reflect reality.

I left early so I could go vote. Now, the waiting truly begins.

With the ending of daylight savings time, darkness falls early. It seems like it has been dark for hours already, with a light rain swirling down out of the blackness. It's dark inside my apartment too, because the bulb in the lamp just burned out. The voice of Lhasa de Sela drifts smokily from the speakers, accompanying me as I drink coffee in preparation for going to work.

Tomorrow, a new president will be elected. I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to go vote, but I am sure that I will vote sometime tomorrow. I keep thinking of an old punk 7" by a band called A State of Mind (I think it was a split 7" with Chumbawamba, or was that their other record?). It was called, "If Voting Changed Anything, They'd Make It Illegal!" That's a jaded thought, but perhaps there's a grain of truth in it. We never get to vote for exactly who we want. We just get to decide amongst the choices presented to us. Sometimes that doesn't even work. Look at how George Bush snuck into the White House.

That said, I'm still going to fucking vote. I have to. We have to. Apathy kills.

Dia de los Muertos

Dia de los Muertos, originally uploaded by Corbie.

The San Jose Museum of Art was a happening place today. For starters, admission was free. Secondly, it was day 2 of a dia de los muertos themed celebration. While there, I discovered that there was an Andy Goldsworthy piece on display - a floor covered with pine branches, with a circular pattern of burnt branches in the middle. If that wasn't enough, there was a whole wing filled with photographs of Frida Kahlo. I'm not sure if these were the same photos displayed at the recent Kahlo exhibit in S.F., since I missed that one, but I guess it doesn't matter. It was good to get a little peek into her life, although I think one is offered a deeper glimpse by her paintings.

Willow powered her way from room to room in true 5-year-old fashion. She sat through one song by the mariachi band playing in the lobby before declaring the music unworthy of further attention. Too bad. I was really getting into the music. She did hover around the craft tables long enough to make a butterfly and a paper flower, decorate a sugar skull, and color a tin butterfly I'd traced for her. Pictured here is my tracing effort. To achieve this effect, I put a picture of a skeleton over a cardboard-backed piece of tin, and traced the lines of the drawing with a pointed piece of wood, digging into the tin. I decided not to color it because I thought rubbing marker over it would ruin it. I'm happy enough with the result that I'm thinking about doing some original art this way.

The rain held off today, and the weather was cool and cloudy. I'm hoping more rain hits us soon. It clears away the cobwebs.

I finally got a chance to hear the rain pattering down on the roof at my new place. The sky has been gray since Thursday, with heavy wind whipping through the area Thursday night/Friday morning. Of course, during the wind, I was up at camp, listening to small wind-bourne objects skittering across the cement and banging into walls. Friday evening, I took Willow trick-or-treating with her friend H. We hit a gated condo complex and cleaned up on the treats, although Willow was pretty wiped out by the time we finished.

She has been a bit under the weather this weekend, but I think this is in part due to her unhappiness at the fact that I no longer live with her. At one point, she said to me, "I don't like having two houses!"

Speaking of houses, we did get out yesterday, to a birthday party for one of Willow's friends. The party was at the house of the girl's grandparents. It was a huge place, up in the hills above the reservoir, with a proliferation of skylights and a deck commanding a view of the Santa Cruz Mountains. There was even an attached barn, and the kids got to go on a tractor ride in the rain. The fireplace was enormous, with a fire burning warmly away. I'm of two minds about this kind of house. Part of me finds them horribly extravagant. A house like that is just too big for one nuclear family. Owning a house like that is like taking the whole pie and leaving crumbs for the neighbors. On the other hand, it was beautiful, and I loved the way the architecture blended in with the surrounding forest. The stone work was very nice too. I could probably get used to living in such a place, but from my present perspective it would be overwhelming. You'd have to hire a staff to maintain things. From a person who is used to doing everything for himself, and not asking for help even when he should, I don't think I'd like that. Not that I'll ever have to worry about this. There's no way I'd ever be able to afford such a house.

Willow had a blast though, and in this situation, that's what counts.

Today we're going to attempt to attend the ongoing Dia de los Muertos celebration at the art museum.

Last night, I kept being awakened by the gnawing sounds of a nearby mouse. I'm still not sure where the sounds were coming from, but this morning there were two almonds inside one of my boots.

Not the first place I'd think of when looking for somewhere to cache food. But then again, I'm not a mouse.

Since I get off work early Friday morning and don't have to be back at work until Monday evening, my weekends stretch over 4 days. Supposedly, it's a long stretch of free time. In reality, there are always a number of tasks and obligations that fill up that time. This weekend I spent some time trying to wrap up a task known as a Teaching Performance Assessment, which is just what it sounds like. I'm being assessed on my ability to teach. In this case, the assessment focuses on how I gather information about my students and how that information informs my instruction design. Thrilling, right?

I had ample time to go hang out too. Willow had her soccer game on Saturday, and played well. Later, I went to a costume party thrown by a couple of co-workers, accompanied by a taller, better-looking version of none other than Sarah Palin. She even had the accent down. Yesterday, I went and saw the latest Central Works play, which is based on Paul Hawken's book, Blessed Unrest. As usual, it built to quite a level of intensity. Unusually, it ended on a note of hope. My brother, who designs sound for Central Works, mentioned that Paul Hawken himself had been in the audience the day before, accompanied by Muriel Hemingway. Apparently though, the performance I saw was superior. I found myself moved and inspired, despite the fact that in this case I already count myself as a member of the choir being preached to.

Yesterday also marked our six year wedding anniversary, and day now destined to pass uncelebrated. Six years ago, I never would have expected to be sitting in a studio apartment, writing this. I guess it just goes to show that anything can happen at any time. The choices we make dictate how the future plays out, and sometimes it doesn't matter what you do. Shit happens. That last remark is in no way an excuse for not trying though. When shit happens, make a choice to shovel it up and get rid of it.

Still shoveling.

I actually got a full night of sleep last night. Sure, it started after midnight and lasted until well after daybreak, but it was for the required number of hours. It is a little noisy around here in the mornings, with the sounds of my neighbors bleeding through the walls (the sounds, not the neighbors, you understand...), but it didn't faze me this morning.

The computer is being temperamental, but that's not really news. If I could afford it, I'd upgrade a few things around here - the computer, my camera, etc. Of course, I still have a list of things I need. Most of the items are relatively inexpensive, and I'm sure that after I get paid I can make some headway. I keep thinking that I've got to focus on quality, and I'm not just talking about my list of items - I'm talking about life decisions and how I spend my time. Not to mention how I take care of myself and those I love.

I'm not quite there yet, but will be. I'll start by getting off the computer.

My emotional state seems to deteriorate as the each week progresses. This is mostly due to lack of sleep, but I'm still finding it difficult to watch all four of the kids at my old house - it brings back too many memories, and I'm having other issues with it too. I don't feel like we're sharing quality time there, and life is really too short to engage in pursuits of questionable quality. I know that a lot of it has to do with my attitude, but some emotions are hard to overcome, and some situations just remain intolerable.

I love the kids. That goes without saying, and it's especially hard because I've helped raise three stepkids for the duration of the romantic relationship that Jen and I shared. Once the divorce has happened (and it has already, in spirit if not on paper), they are no longer my stepkids. Our relationships will still be what they are, but in some ways I feel like I've lost way more than just Jen (not that "just" is exactly the right word, but you know what I mean). Right now it's hard to be over at the old house with a smile on my face, pretending that everything is okay, when everything is patently not okay. Our lives have diverged, although in some ways they will be entwined forever. The engraving on our wedding rings read, "here we merge to form a river, and travel to the sea together", but now our streams have been sundered and we lie in seperate beds, still traveling towards the horizon but day by day forgetting what it meant to be together.

That said, we forgot what it meant to be together quite awhile ago. Fault lies on both sides, and blame is not given. We ended up being incompatible in some very basic ways. I think both of us knew this early on, but chose to ignore it. That's how it often goes, doesn't it?

Thank the fates for sending some old friends back into my life, not to mention all of the newer friends who make things more bearable on a daily basis. I'm feeling much more open to newness at the moment, and I'm finding it all around me. It's a good feeling.

Now I just have to find a way to comfortably deal with the death of a long relationship, and the resulting emotional fallout.

Maybe if I get more sleep. Maybe if I forge ahead. Maybe...

For the second day in a row, I've been busier than expected. Today it was because Willow has some sort of bladder or urinary tract infection. I took her to the doctor this morning, but poor Willow, who had been sitting on the toilet all night thinking she had to pee (and even falling asleep there), couldn't pee at the doctor's office. No pee equals no urine test equals no diagnosis. The doctor wouldn't prescribe anything for her, and recommended I buy cranberry juice for her to drink. Willow is not a fan of cranberry juice, but dutifully drank a small, watered-down cup of it. It's hard to tell if she's getting better or not, because now she's asleep. I have to wake her up in fifteen minutes or so to take her back home. Too bad, really. I wish I could just lay down beside her and go to sleep myself. Work obligations and coffee consumption don't allow this. The bigger kids now sleep over at their dad's on Wednesday, and Willow would sleep here at the same time if it weren't for my work schedule.

Things will change again when I stop working nights, which could be as soon as the end of the year, or as far off as next Spring. The one thing we can always count on is change. I'm reminded of another conversational thread from Monday night: stasis equals death. I think there is more truth in that than I'd care to admit.

Time to get off the futon and get ready for work now. I'm going to have to carry Willow to the van. Hope the sleep is doing her a world of good, because she means the world to me.

Today is turning out to be busy. Since about 4:30 PM yesterday, I've been home for about 2 hours, give or take. Maybe 3. At the moment, I'm trying to wrap up some reading and writing assessments on a third grader at the school where I student teach. I'm also teaching an after school science program on Tuesdays. And now, I'm going in early to run the astronomy program up at camp.

I did have a bit of down time last night, sitting by the embers of the evening campfire with one of this week's teachers. The night found both of us in a reflective mood, which was good for my soul. Strangely enough, one of the most memorable exchanges during the conversation had to do with a quote from the comedy, "City Slickers": "We may be lost, but we're making great time!" This kind of sums up the way I feel sometimes, or the way I view the negative effects of modern culture. We all seem to be rushing to get to someplace else. We can't find the time to take care of ourselves (or the people in our lives) in any meaningful way. We make snap decisions and sometimes stick to them for years, despite the fact that they may be, at best, wrong, or at worst, killing us. But hey! - we're getting there quickly, so it must be okay.

Is it?

Some of this, at least, applies to me. I'm trying to grow and reflect on this all.

It sure was nice to sit by the dying fire though. Fire itself symbolizes change; transformation - painful transformation that allows new life to grow.

I'm concentrating on trying to feel good. It usually comes naturally, but these days I have to concentrate on it. It's probably character-building. Right now I don't feel all that bad. Since I don't drink, I've had to rely on actual coping mechanisms during this whole separation/divorce process. I'm not used to this kind of pain, but I'm getting better.

That said, I've had some dark days too.

At the symphony last night (I got free tickets because I helped host the symphony camp when they rented our site over the summer), Willow lasted for about half of it before conking out in my lap. I sat there for one more piece, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's "Scheherazade", before taking her home to bed. Glad I stayed for that one though. It was quite nice.

Now, I'm listening to Ghost's "Overture: Live in Nippon Yusen Soko 2006". One of these days I'll even watch the DVD it's packaged with. So little time, even now...

Yesterday was nonstop, with a walk-a-thon, soccer game, and wedding all following on the heels of each other. Willow walked 8 laps at the walk-a-thon, played well at her soccer game (even though the other team trounced hers), and ran around like a crazy girl at the wedding, with her newly pink hair matching her pink dress. The wedding, the union of Richard and Heather, was performed by a drag queen (although he wasn't in drag - "dressed down", as he put it), and was definitely a much needed breath of fresh air.

There was a moment when all eyes were on me too. I attempted to walk through a closed door. Unfortunately, the door was glass, and the resulting shattering, tinkling sound of flying daggers of glass presented a definite full-stop punctuation mark in the midst of the ongoing flow of wedding revelry. Fortunately, none of the daggers punctured anybody. I was uninjured.

A mere feet away was a friend who did the same thing as a kid, and who still sports the scars from his own encounter with a closed door.

The world is a strange place.

Tonight Willow and I are going to the symphony. Wish us luck.

There's a Great Horned Owl calling somewhere off in the darkness. The moon is one day past full. I'm hiding in the computer lab at work, drinking a cup of herbal tea. The cabin leaders are all in the lodge, eating donuts and hopefully staying out of trouble. Through the wall, I can hear the teachers talking.

I haven't yet found the inner calm I require to truly move forward. It's hard to focus on what will be when you're still mourning what was, or what could have been. I have to take into account that my state of mind is negatively affected by a serious lack of sleep. I've known this all along, of course. I always tell kids who come into the camp office at night that their problems are magnified by exhaustion, and that the best thing they can do to make things better is sleep. Sleep doesn't solve problems, but it makes them more bearable.

I wonder what the future will bring. How will I feel about all of this a year from now? Will I have successfully made the transition? I plan on living in my apartment for at least six months, or maybe until the end of the school year. Who knows, maybe I'll be there longer. It's not a bad little place, with the park nearby, a skylight in the kitchen, and an air conditioner. The wood-paneled ceiling is a plus too. Too bad the mail delivery seems to be so chaotic.

I'll be glad when my school term is over in December. I've been having trouble focusing on my assignments lately, and am stalled on the current one - not due to a lack of focus, but due to a lack of a subject for the literary case study I'm supposed to perform. I may be able to fix that tomorrow. After this term is over, I only have one more. For the last term, I'm hoping to find an internship so I can work at a school.

In a way, this is an exciting time. Part of me recognizes this, but I don't feel excited. I feel wounded. There will be a scar, but with each scar comes wisdom. I will heal.

It's strange how we sometimes seem to go in circles until we gain enough momentum to fly off on a new path.

Going through one of my journals, I found the results of a Native American tarot reading an old friend did for me years ago. My guide animals were (are?) the skunk and the otter, with the skunk representing respect, and the otter representing playfulness (if I remember right).

At the bottom, my friend wrote: Change is in the air - let go of old habits. Let your true feelings guide you rather than being complacent. Stand up for what you really want and need. Let your love flow - it's pure and true - don't fear it - trust it. Guide or offer guidance to others right now when they seek you out. It's called Faith.

Here and now, years after the fact, those words hit home. I really do need to offer more of myself. I rarely do that. I'm too busy looking inward.

Habits. Complacency.

Change.

It's the start of a new week, and today I'm finding solace in Firewater's "The Golden Hour" and getting shit done.

Carpe Diem, after all... I'm tired of letting the day seize me. Still, there are days when I feel limited in what I can accomplish. These limitations usually take the form of lack of funds or people not getting back to me in a timely manner. That said, today most people are getting back to me pretty quickly.

Oh yeah, the other limitation has to do with the computer printer being out of ink, which of course means any home printing fetches up against two limitations: lack of ink and lack of money. Good thing there are computers at work.

Yeah, I'm still sad, but I'm attempting not to dwell on it. Dwelling is counterproductive in many ways.

I've been in my apartment for exactly a month and, despite some emotional setbacks (one of which was Jen announcing her intention to divorce me), I'm slowly adjusting to all the changes in my life. I suppose more changes are in the offing too, since I'll be working in a classroom before too long. I just don't want to hear any more bad news for awhile.

I had long, unrelated phone conversations with Jen and my mom today. Right now, I feel the need to talk to people. It's both hard for me and good for me to talk things out with Jen. I still have some issues I'm dealing with, but hopefully over time things will get better. I'm slowly starting to reconnect with the outside world too, and trying to keep in mind lessons learned.

School is getting tougher too, partially because I've been distracted. I'm trying to iron out some financial aid wrinkles too. There's always something that needs attention, and my mind still tends to cannibalize itself when I'm left to my own devices for too long.

Onwards!

I've got Tracy Chapman's version of "House of the Rising Sun" playing in my head, particularly the lines, "I've got one foot on the platform/and one on the train...". That's how I feel right now, like I'm starting off on a new journey. The thing is, especially when using this as a metaphor, one must remember to get both feet on the train before it leaves the station. Indecision could be messy. I'm sort of feeling that right now, but becoming more clear about getting on the train with each passing day.

I miss traveling.

To belabor the metaphor a bit more, I can hear the loudspeaker reminding me to mind the gap. Every life change comes with a gap - a gap between the comfort of the known and the uncertainty ahead. It's both fitting and somewhat soothing that this gap comes during the transitional season of Autumn.

Now I'm seeing the hilarious train platform murder scene from Dario Argento's "Cat O' Nine Tails". My train of thought does this to me.

Mind the gap.

I just met one of my neighbors after around three weeks of hearing him groaning and cussing through the wall. Nice guy, in an alcoholic drug addict kind of way. He provided me with a litany of his woes, mentioned several times that he was a member of a cannabis club, even showing me his membership card, showed me pictures of his daughter, told me about his health problems and about how he was from Detroit, and on and on and on.

When I finally managed to extricate myself, his last words were, "if Whoppers weren't 99 cents, I'd already be dead."

He's unemployed too, which explains why I always hear him.

Shit.

Lots of other stuff going on too. Not going to blog about it now.

Right now, I'm loving the way Willow sings as she plays. It makes for some interesting juxtapositions of music and drama:

(singing) "Peace and love, peace and love, that's all I'm thinking of bay-beee, peace and looooove"

(playing) "I GOT SMOOOSHED!"

Now she's singing, "I miss Mommy, I miss Daddy." She's trying to come to terms with the changes in her life.

Now she wants to go to the park. Let the healing power of play commence.

That's what I need right now too.

Tess Gerritsen and Ed the Head

Tess Gerritsen and Ed the Head, originally uploaded by Corbie.

Even before she'd mentioned that she'd brought something along, I'd noticed the small box she held in her lap. As she started to open it, I asked, "what's in there? A shrunken head?"

I was right.

Stop the emotional rollercoaster! I want to get off! It has been a tough week in a tough year. I'm not going to write about it here because printed words take on a reality all of their own, and who really wants to remember the kinds of feelings I'm experiencing at the moment?

Not me.

Willow has been having a rough week. Last night while she was visiting for dinner, she slipped out of the swing at the park and landed on her back (later she proclaimed, "I did a back flip!"). She got the wind knocked out of her, and she cried, more because it scared her than any other reason, I think. I'm sure it didn't feel good, though.

Today, while student teaching, I got a call from Jen saying the on-campus YMCA at Willow's school had called. Willow had fallen and hit her head. Since Jen works far away, and I'm a bit closer, I went to the school to see Willow. She's fine, with a bloody bump on the back of her head, but no other ill effects. She did use the opportunity presented by my visit to request the rest of the day off.

Now, we're hanging out. I'm glad. She's playing with plastic zoo animals. I'm going to go join her on the carpet.

For the last couple of days, I haven't left the apartment much. It's funny, really. I don't have any kids to pick up, or kids to help with homework (actually, I do in an hour or so) and yet I don't go out. Sure, I have school work to do, but I find that I can't do that for more than 2 or 3 hours at a time without needing a change of task (unless I'm in a panic to get something done by a deadline, in which case I can work for as long as needed).

I think I stay in because I'm surrounded by my comfort junk. We all know about comfort food, but some of us apparently have comfort junk, or comfort stuff - call it what you will. I've always been a bit of a packrat, and despite having to pare things down when I moved, I still live surrounded by books and cds - I have years and years worth of entertainment stacked around me. Not that I spend all of my time reading or listening to music (actually, I kind of do when I can get away with it). I spend a fair amount of time on the computer too, writing and surfing.

The thing about comfort junk, and surfing the web, and all of that stuff, is that it's no substitute for human interaction. It's definitely not a substitute for love. I feel like I accidently went and made that substitution somehow, without even realizing it.

Now that I'm alone with all of this stuff, I find myself in a reflective mood.

It's just stuff.

I need to get out more.

This evening, as the sky darkened, I sat out on the patio and read a novel. Gentle music played inside the apartment, and I could hear (and can still hear) people in the park across the street. I had some coffee too, using the horizontal beams supporting the fence as a table for my mug. Sure, I had to drag one of the kitchen chairs outside because I have no patio furniture, but that's okay. The kitchen chair worked just fine.

It's too dark to read outside now, so I'm writing here instead. The music is still playing.

Loveless

Loveless, originally uploaded by Corbie.

I went to yet another wedding yesterday. Actually, it was a wedding reception, the actual marriage having taken place earlier in the day. The reception took place in a park in Santa Cruz, and we had to share the space with soccer games, other parties, and the general public, making it hard to find parking.

I parked down around the corner and found myself passing through Evergreen cemetery on my way to the reception. It has been about 20 years since I was last in that cemetery. This time it was in the afternoon though, and we weren't getting kicked out by cops. Times have changed. It's a strange little cemetery, with the grave markers at the back becoming one with the surrounding woods, sticking out of the undergrowth like strangely weathered boulders. Near the road, the ground is devoid of grass, and the ground has subsided in coffin-shaped patches in front of some headstones, making it look like the century-old residents have gone walkabout. The photo here struck me as being particularly poignant, not only because of the name on the stone, but because of the age of the deceased and the fact that she died exactly a hundred years ago. This represents every parent's nightmare - the life of a child ending before it truly begins, and dragging the happiness of the parents down into the grave with her.

We become so vulnerable when we love.

Speaking of love, the reception helped me set aside my maudlin thoughts. Most of my coworkers were there, and a few other people who I've met during my years as an outdoor educator. The relaxed atmosphere and good food was just what I needed.

I left before the reception was over so I could make the trip back over the hill and take Nate to a Pow Wow at West Valley College. Fourth graders do a unit on Native Americans, and Nate's teacher offered points to students attending the Pow Wow. To my thinking, it gave me a chance to do something with Nate, something that doesn't really happen all on its own anymore. I also like going to Pow Wows, and it had been nearly 20 years since I'd last gone to one.

It's interesting. When we told the kids I was moving out, Nate had the most immediate emotional reaction to the news. He was flat out pissed off. Maybe that initial venting has allowed him to better come to terms with the situation, because now he seems to be handling things better than the other kids. There's something to be said for letting your emotions out and telling people what you think. Maybe I should do that more often myself.

Willow came along too, with Alex electing to stay home and watch videos on the computer, and Sophie misbehaving enough that I didn't really want to bring her. Not that she wanted to go anyway. At the Pow Wow, we checked out the vendors and watched the dancing. Using Jen's camera, Nate took photos, politely asking permission of his subjects before doing so. Everywhere we looked there were people in native costume. Vivid colors, feathers, and jangling bells turned the drab college campus into something else entirely. The color and movement all around us, coupled with the surrounding darkness, gave the illusion of what is must have been like hundreds of years ago, with people pressing close together in the night, pushing back the unknown with their stories and companionship.

I'm glad we went.

I've always been good at adjusting to new situations, but I have to say that my newest new situation has got to be about the hardest I've ever had to adapt to. I feel like I'm out in the cold, while inside a warmly lit window, all of the joy and frustration of family life plays out while I watch. I know that this isn't completely true, but that's how it feels.

I'm now a visitor in my own home, not sure of where the boundaries lie. It's an uncomfortable feeling. In fact, it's incredibly sad.

In part, my facility for adjusting is why this whole thing happened. I'm more comfortable with adjusting to things than I am with taking action to change them. Life has always been something that happens to me. I seldom find the initiative to happen to life. It's funny how in my effort (or lack of effort) to avoid discomfort has resulted in so much of it.

At least I know the lesson here. That's the first step towards making changes.

I've been student teaching for a couple of weeks now. I'm finding that, under the cold, hard light of reality in a second grade classroom, I have to keep adjusting my plans to make things more concise, more simple. It's almost like relearning how to teach. It's that different from teaching fifth and sixth graders in the woods. The kids are sweet though, in that, "you've gotta explain things really simply to me," kind of way. I'm teaching a unit on folktales. I was quite ambitious with my planning at first, but like I said, I've had to throw most of my plans out the window and watch them get spirited away by the Autumn breeze. Not that there is any Autumn breeze. Still feels like summer to me.

And my bank failed, dammit! Good thing some other, bigger organization threw money at it and took over. I think. I'll be the first to admit I don't, and probably never will, understand the world of high finance, but it seems pretty scary out there right now.

Currently listening to: Bohren & der Club of Gore "Midnight Radio"

Oh yeah, happy Autumn! I'm still coming to terms with all of the non-seasonal changes in my life, so what the hell - let the season change too!

Incoming

Incoming, originally uploaded by Corbie.

Willow is asleep beside me on the bed. At the moment, I can hang my legs over the edge of the bed and type on my aging desktop. I may rearrange things, if I can. Things are a bit cramped here, but I like it (the physical space, if not the emotional one).

Willow and I went to the beach yesterday to take part in a little gathering of outdoor educators, masterminded by the one and only Scooby. It made me realize how seldom I visit the beach, even though it's only a half hour away. My sharpened sense of melancholy made me appreciate the cold waves and distant lights on a deeper level than usual. Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, I really appreciated getting to hang out around a blazing fire with a bunch of my coworkers too. My work is a happy place. It's also so much more clearly defined than my personal life.

Not that I need to be told what to do. I guess it's just that I'm more clear on what the expectations are.

I've more or less settled into my new routines. It has been a week now since I moved, and I'm also just finishing up my first week back as night supervisor at science camp. In addition to this, there's the additional kid-juggling that comes with being a separated couple, and my new position as student teacher a couple of mornings a week in Santa Clara.

It's funny, but when there's so much going on, it's harder to write about it. For this post, I'll stick with my work week. We had two schools up, and the kids were well-behaved 5th graders. A couple of them puked, a couple had fevers, and I pulled out a gnarly splinter from a girl's hand this morning, but other than that, it was a problem free week. The cabin leaders were all college students too, which raises the maturity level, but sometimes makes them less willing to follow directions. This was a good bunch though, and included the girlfriend of the cabin leader who was killed recently. I'm pretty amazed that she came up at all, given the newness of the wound, but she did it as a tribute to him, since it was a place he loved so much.

As for me, despite the decreased amount of sleep I get when working nights, it felt great to be back. The place never fails to make me feel better, no matter what I have going on in my life. Right now it is much needed, of course. The moon was full earlier in the week, and for some reason it brought out the owls in force. At one point, there were 3 or 4 owls all calling out at once, hooting back and forth from the darkness of the trees - except for the Screech owl who, of course, screeched. All my reptiles and other pets are in the nature lab at work now too, and are being enjoyed by countless visitors. I've been trying to get to work early to check up on them, and so far it looks like all of their needs are being attended to. It looks like I'll always be the one giving the python water though, since he has a tendency to strike at any hands entering his domain.

I haven't yet filed any change of address forms. It's on my mental list of things I need to get to when I have time. Ha.

My new mailbox is one of many, sharing space with 15 other boxes at the top of a column by the road, with the column sharing the parking strip with something like 12 other columns and a couple of large lock-boxes for packages. Oh, and the recycling bin where everybody stuffs junk mail. When I first opened my mailbox, I had to remove a cube of mail, composed of ads and mail addressed to at least 3 different previous inhabitants, and some for the guy who forgets to tell people that he has an apartment number. There was also a key to the lock box. Inside the lock box was a big box of wine. I handed everything over to the apartment manager. I wonder if she'll drink the wine. No, I take that back. I really don't care if she drinks the wine.

The whole experience made me think of the transitional nature of our lives. People come and go, and their mail struggles to follow, often getting waylaid by people not having time to fill out change of address forms.

We just don't have the time. We're distracted by more important things.

The moon was beautiful tonight, rising majestically and painted orange by the unmentionable mixture of particles that passes for air around here. Like everything else around me at the moment, its aesthetic effect was honed by emotional crisis. The hills at twilight, witnessed while I indulged in some spur-of-the-moment retail therapy (new Tess Gerritsen novel), were soft and purple, mysterious and unattainable in the distance.
I'm writing this in an actual journal - the kind made out of paper - for transfer to the blog on Tuesday, when my phone/internet service is up and running.

Jen and I have separated. I moved out on Friday, dragging loads of accumulated crap behind me. I'll be helping out with all four of the kids twice a week, and Willow will be with me when the other kids are at their dad's place. It's too early to tell how well they will cope, but under the circumstances, they're holding up pretty well.

This isn't a venue for details. Let it suffice to say that a lot of this stems from us both being non-confrontational and from me being oblivious a good part of the time. Make of that what you will.

The future looms, and right now it's full of uncertainty and a whole lot of work of every kind.

Current listening: irr.app.(ext.) "Cosmic Superimposition"

The kids all had the day off from school today so their teachers could have an in-service day. This makes it the second Monday in a row with no school. Of course, today I had to go to my own in-service day (the first of five this week), so I dragged all the kids along with me. Alex especially didn't want to go, because it meant that he wouldn't be able to get started on a school project he'd put off 'til the last minute. Once I got there though, he joined our back-to-work meeting, even to the point of occasionally contributing to it. Nate went and read under a tree, and the girls spun around in office chairs until they were dizzy and chased each other with squirt guns.

Later, looking for the girls, I discovered them in one of the conference rooms with nearly 10 little wax paper cups full of ice. Sophie guiltily looked up and demanded to know, "WHO TOLD YOU?" She then tried to blame the whole thing on Willow.

Willow, for her part, just kept eating ice.

I don't mind them eating ice, but I wish they'd eat it out of the reusable water bottles I'd packed for them. I guess that's less fun though.

I have a hard time maintaining things. Once I get to a certain point, I take a leaf from Julius Caesar's book and, well, rest on my laurels (so to speak). My life could be visually represented as a series of plateaus. Every so often, I realize I've been hanging out on a plateau for so long that the view has grown stale. This is usually when I start climbing towards the next plateau. Sometimes though, in order to shrug me off its back, the plateau has to fall out from under me. On such occasions, I flap my arms like a sad bird until I find a new resting place. You'd think I'd learn...

Take for instance the old template I've been using here since the dark ages of 2002. I realize that a lot of people hate reading light text against a dark background - mostly because they aren't afraid to tell me about it. I also realize that the comment link has been broken for ages, and that the old page took forever to load. Well, I just climbed off that particular virtual plateau and changed the template. I notice that my sidebar links have disappeared, but I'm not sure if people ever followed them anyway, and truth be told, most of them would be more at home over at my music blog anyway.

I'm pretty busy at the moment, with school and other things, but perhaps I'll tinker more when time allows.

We were driving past the cemetery today, something that almost always elicits a comment from Willow.

Willow: "Can we go say hi to the people in the cemetery?"

Me: "We could go there sometime, but the people are all under the ground."

Willow (exasperated at my stupidity): "I knoooow, but we could dig!"

The kids are finishing up their first week of school, and despite that fact, summer is still very much with us, with temperatures hovering near the double/triple digit demarcation line. Like I was doing near the end of last school year, I've been walking the kids to and from school, which at the moment means I'm walking at least three miles a day. The kids have pretty much settled into their new routines, with Alex going to the middle school and the three younger kids all attending elementary school together. They missed all being at the same school by a year. Willow has the same teachers that Nate and Sophie had (two teachers sharing a contract), and since they are good teachers, this is a good thing. Nate has the only male teacher. Someday, somewhere, that will be me, but at the moment I still have two more terms of school before I can get my teaching credential. This term, I'm going to be student teaching in a second grade classroom at a school in Santa Clara - one of the rare public schools where the students have to wear uniforms. I've already been there (yesterday, actually) to meet the students and observe the teacher. She's been teaching for decades, so I should learn a lot of new tricks. That routine doesn't start in earnest for another couple of weeks. I still have another week off work, followed by our in-service week, before all of the pieces fall into place around here.

Speaking of work, I learned some sad news yesterday, but first, an explanation. Our science camp and summer camp programs depend heavily on volunteers (during the summer, they're called counselors, and during the school year, they're known as cabin leaders). Some of our volunteers come back again and again, often appearing every few weeks and being incredibly flexible with their time, so they can jump in when and where they are needed. Occasionally they become staff, which means they actually start getting paid.

One of our most dedicated volunteers, Brett Lazzeri (aka Sea Turtle), was killed in a car crash in Reno on Monday. His girlfriend, Sunny, survived, but was injured - I'm not sure how badly. It's still hard to believe. He touched the lives of many, and I'm sure that there are literally hundreds of kids who would be completely devastated to hear this news. I know I am. My thoughts and energy go out to his family and friends, and I know his spirit will live on in the countless lives he's touched over the years.

My week as site manager/liaison for the symphony camp is over. I helped out with another small group over the weekend as well - a student council from a local catholic school. Bright kids - we played charades around the campfire as the full moon rose through the trees, and they were so good that it was as if a psychic connection existed between members of the group.

As for the symphony group - the California Youth Philharmonic Orchestra, to be precise - their Saturday concert was phenomenal. I can't remember the names or composers of the pieces (it was hard to hear the conductor when he announced them, and there wasn't a program), but all the practice they put in (sometimes waking up before 6 AM, I'm told, which is unheard of for the average teenager) paid off.

The day before, I took a bunch of them over to a nearby park to watch the annual free Shakespeare play. This year there are two different ones, each running for three weekends befores switching. We saw A Comedy of Errors, which I have to admit I hadn't seen (or read) before. The stage design was well done, and it was great just to sit and watch while the sky darkened. Occasionally, a bat would flit down into the light before darting off into the darkness again, making sure that mosquitoes were kept to a minimum. Oh, and the acting - it ranged from competent to excellent, although one of the main actors chose to model his character after Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean. Too obvious by far, and quite distracting. Other than that, it was a lot of fun. Willow didn't understand a word, of course, and neither did some of the younger symphony members. The spectacle kept them interested though.

I also led a night hike for them, helped out with a dinner in the park, and oversaw their campfire. Willow tagged along for the latter two events (with all four kids hanging out for the campfire), and was overjoyed that there was an elaborate jump house set up in the park. The woman in charge of the symphony camp paid the jump house people some extra money to leave it up a little longer so the symphony kids (along with Willow) could play on it.

This week, soccer practice starts for the kids. Jen has been buying them new soccer gear and back-to-school clothes, and they're all excited. As Dar Williams puts it, it's the end of summer, the end of summer/When you move to another place. Autumn always seems like the time to move ahead. I think having a job tied in with the school year helps divide each year into manageable chunks like that. Summer is a time of relative stagnation, and Fall is a time of regrouping and change.

Things are in flux at the moment, on all fronts. We've finished up six weeks of summer camp, and this week the kids are mostly home. Willow got some vaccinations today, and quietly cried about it. I took the girls out for ice cream afterwards, which the happily and messily ate, and then we got a movie at the grocery store, which they sort of quietly watched.

In the time since I last posted anything here, I've been to a wedding (one of my coworkers got married to his long-time girlfriend in a beautiful wedding at our place of employment), a play (Central Work's latest, an updated version of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, with sound done by my brother - very nice), and saw an old friend I hadn't seen in around 20 years. I've still been digging into my past in a midlife crisis sort of way, so it's nice to reconnect with old friends. This particular old friend is now a professor out in Boston. The last time I saw him, he was singing in an Arizona punk band called Desecration. It's a good feeling to reconnect with people, even if the meetings are brief and far between. We're definitely all grown up now.

I'm due up at camp in a couple of hours to lead a night hike for the symphony camp. They've been coexisting with our day camp this week, with me as the official liaison between the two groups. So far, so good.

Next month, it's back to working nights again. I've got to put in more classroom hours for my teaching credential program as well, but it should be easier with the kids all in school every day. I tried to get a day position with benefits, but failed again. It's just as well, I suppose, because I really should be getting in more classroom practice. I'm going to be asking all of the visiting teachers about how they feel about their schools and districts too. This will give me an idea about where I might like to work after I get my credentials.

Currently listening to: Sacred Blade "demo #1"

I'm at work right now. The rest of the family is over the hill, towards the sea, at a birthday party, near a burned patch eaten by one of the recent fires.

There's a fire here too, and music, and dancing. The Tian Hua I-Kuan Tao Foundation is having their annual summer camp at our site. Unlike our summer camps, this one lasts a mere three days. I got here right before they lit their campfire. The way they decided who was to light it fell somewhere between ceremony and game. Although, who's to say that a ceremony can't also be a game? Not me. The campers formed conga lines and danced to some chanting and music. When two conga lines met, a ro-sham-bo contest took place, with the loser adding his or her line on to the back of the winner's line. Eventually, there was only one big line, and the boy at the front received a crown and cape, and then a blazing torch which he used to ignite the waiting logs.

While watching, I had a moment of deja-vu. I think I dreamed something like this, where a fire was being lit and I couldn't figure out whether I was watching a ceremony or a game. It's interesting when lines get blurred like that.

Sometimes it doesn't make a difference. Sometimes it makes all the difference in the world.

(wait a second while I try to tack some meaning on to that last thought... I have a bad habit of typing things without thinking them through first, and I'm left with empty profundities)

Maybe it means that we have to choose what is important, and that different things are important to different people... that different ways of approaching life sometimes come into conflict.

I think I too often approach life like it's a game, without planning for how the game is going to play out.

(meanwhile, happy music plays in the background, accompanied by the sounds of people clapping and dancing)

Willow and I went and got a couple of new sleeping bags today. The kids' sizes were pretty damn cheap too. Now Nate won't freeze. The other one is for Willow - her sleeping bag is cloth, and prone to dew-induced dampness in the mornings. We also got a couple of princess-themed water/snack bottles for the girls (there's a compartment at the bottom for snacks), a new shirt for me, and um... a zombie movie. That's right, nothing but the necessities.

We're halfway through the summer camp season now. Every Friday, the kids come home worn out, filthy, bruised, and fulfilled. Today, Sophie had a big bruise on her hip from excessive hula-hooping. After I pulled into our driveway, Nate complained of feeling carsick, so he sat down in the shade on the front lawn to drink some water and wait for the queasiness to pass. I herded the other kids indoors so I could bathe the girls, but figured I'd better check on Nate before I got too wrapped up in the additional herding project required to actually get the girls into the bath. Sure enough, he was asleep out on the front lawn, his head resting against his backpack.

Part of the problem is his inadequate sleeping bag. Last night's sleepover proved to be much colder than last week's. It's off to the store I go to fetch him a better one.

Oh, and today the local paper reported that there's a measure on San Francisco's November ballot to name a building after George Bush. Normally, I wouldn't support such foolishness, but upon closer inspection I noticed that the building in question is a sewage plant.

Why stop there though? Picture this: The Dick Cheney tannery. It would definitely get my vote.

Currently listening to: Breathe Stone "Angels of the Four Winds" 3" cd

Jen's up in S.F. at the Blogher conference, being busy and productive, and hopefully having some fun too. The rest of us will be sleeping at camp tomorrow night, and then the three older kids go off to their dad's for the weekend. Jen gets back Sunday night, and the kids get back Monday morning, just in time to go to camp again. Somewhere in there I've got to finish some homework assignments (I still find it weird that I'm in school during the summer) and do some cleaning around here. Right now, I'm enjoying that wind-down time that falls between the kids going to sleep (not sure the boys are asleep yet...) and me going to sleep. I'm pretty tired too, so I'd better wind down fast. Not sure what happens if one goes to sleep partially wound.

Maybe springs snap.

I'm just starting my third week of summer camp. After having a big group of small kids, it's refreshing to have a smaller group of big kids this week - they're a bit more focused and don't need as much reigning in. It's cooler too, which counts for a lot. Of course, all of our kids are up at camp again. It's great that I'm allowed to bring them for free. It would literally cost thousands of dollars if I was paying for all of these weeks of camp.

Over the school year, I got so used to having my days free that it's almost a shock to not always have time to get to a lot of the basic things like cleaning dishes and clothes. In a way though, it's easier - I never have to stop and wonder what I'm going to do next. There's always a million things that need attention. I'm somehow managing to find time to do school work too. I've got a few more weeks of my 2nd term, and then a few weeks off (both from work and school), which I'm sure will be filled up with other things. For the present though, I'm definitely not bored.

Also, I've relented a bit in my previously uncompromising attitude about the uselessness of video games - Wii Fit is actually quite useful. I've been using it to work out for about a month now, and I'm actually seeing positive results. I guess it was only a matter of time before somebody invented something like this. Between all of the hiking and the video game assisted workouts, I should be in great shape by the end of the summer, as long as I can resist the call of free ice cream at camp. So far, so good.

Willow's First Camp-out

Willow's First Camp-out, originally uploaded by Corbie.

We're already at the end of the second week of the six weeks I'm working at summer camp this year. The kids have been going just about every day, with the exception of the very first day when the boys elected to spend the night at a friends house so they wouldn't have to get up at sunrise to get to camp on time.

Camp leaves them filthy, sunburned (despite constant re-application of sunblock), and tired, but everybody is having a good time. Nate is exercising his leadership skills to good effect, Alex is thriving, Sophie spends most of her time in the pool, and Willow is existing in a state of perpetual excitement, going on night hikes with me and hugging and high-fiving random people right and left. In the picture here, Willow is waking up after spending a night sleeping on the field with all of the other kids. Two weeks in, and I'm still honing my skills at simultaneously being and employee and a parent.

As part of my teaching credential program requirements, I got observed teaching a lesson (on the pollution tolerance index) down at the pond. Due to the 100 degree weather, my faculty adviser only stayed about fifteen minutes, but I guess she saw enough to evaluate me. I wonder what the other teaching credential students do when they need to be observed during the summer months. They probably don't jump into ponds with kids following behind like obedient little ducklings.

The temperature has been high over the last few days, but today it's cooler and breezy. Lots of fires continue to burn in California, and I hope the breeze doesn't cause them to jump containment lines. Things could get even messier than they already are.

Lately, I've been spending less time writing here, and more time writing entries over at my music blog. I've even written a few entries the old fashioned way - on paper. I feel that I'm at a crossroads of sorts. Many paths can be seen from there. They say the Devil hangs out at such intersections though.

Currently listening to: Diamanda Galas "Guilty Guilty Guilty"

Bloodshot Sun, originally uploaded by Corbie.

The sunsets in the Bay Area continue to look like scenes out of post-apocalyptic science fiction films, with the ghostly red orb of the sun looking more like a bloody moon. Needless to say, the air quality has taken quite a dive. Around the state, wilderness and non-wilderness are falling victim to indiscriminate fire.

Leafing through the latest National Geographic, I noticed that our fire woes have warranted an article there.

On a completely different note, I'm pleased to see that same gender couples can finally get married. In the parking lot of our local grocery store, I saw a car belonging to a newly wedded couple - in the window, they had painted, JUST MARRIED - AFTER 23 YEARS! Imagine having to wait that long. Of course, the forces of evil lurk nearby. On the way to the grocery store, there is a car with a "marriage is between a man and a woman" bumper sticker. The "man" and "woman" are represented by little icons which resemble the ones found on bathroom doors. I've often fantasized about vandalizing that sticker by replacing one of the icons with a farm animal, but have held back from doing so, either because, a) I'm too mature for such shenanigans, or b) I don't have any farm animal stickers.

Speaking of maturity, lately I've been delving deeply into the boxes of papers and junk that I left behind in my mom's garage the last time I moved (actually, two times ago, I think). It has sparked a reflective state of mind, the results of which can mostly be seen over at my music blog, since music occupies such a big space in my life (for good or ill). In some ways, it's almost like a second childhood, but instead of buying a convertible, I'm blogging about forgotten punk bands.

Amongst the music memorabilia, there are also a lot of school papers, mostly from my time at San Jose State. I even found a short, autobiographical piece that I wrote for a sociology class 19 years ago. Reading it was interesting, especially because in some ways, not a lot has changed. I'm a bit more nuanced now, but my basic beliefs are pretty much the same.

In the spirit of those people who read old journal entries in front of audiences, here it is, in its entirety:

Who Am I?

To whom it may concern,

Who the heck am I? Well, let's see... I'm a 21 year old male with hair that evidently looks like some redneck's sister's and a slightly protruding stomach due to excess junk food inhalation. I judge myself to be somewhat average looking.

I spend most of my time listening to music which most other people hate and reading horror novels which seem to disgust an uncommonly large number of people. I like watching bad Italian horror movies about zombies and maniacs wielding sharp kitchen utensils.

On the creative side, I like to draw, although I often find myself drawing icky dead people. I also like to write stories and poems, always keeping the subject matter appropriately grim, of course. However, I do like stupid humor and often liven things up with puns that nobody gets, which is good because I would probably get hit a lot if people got them. I also "sing" for an extremely noisy, yet politically/socially correct punk band.

I like unspoiled wilderness and I'm very upset with the rate at which it is becoming spoiled by human greed and ignorance. The government scares me and pisses me off greatly as well. I am what some people call "anti-American" because I don't believe in being fed lies and half-truths by people who claim to be working in our best interests. Sure, maybe our system is better than some, but I believe it still stands for a lot of improvement. People who believe the U.S. is perfect are hurting an already sick situation.

I am somewhat socially awkward at times but this doesn't bother me as much as it could because I'm not really out to impress anyone. I tend to like small groups of friends better than large social gatherings. I avoid parties, never drink, never take drugs, and don't smoke. I do, however, eat too much.

I am an accomplished procrastinator, never doing something today that can be put off until tomorrow. I have, however, been working on changing this aspect of my personality. Maybe tomorrow...

On the plus side though, once I start a task I always finish it quickly and efficiently (well, most of the time anyway).

I actively avoid anything mainstream. I hate trends and fads. I never watch TV. I am an athiest. I don't believe in telling other people what to do or how to run their lives. I hope George Bush gets hit by a bus, but only if it runs over Dan Quayle first. I seem to be rambling here, so I guess I'll stop. Have a nice day, if you want to.

Take care,
John

There you have it. Most of this still applies to one degree or another. I don't spend anywhere near as much time reading horror novels or watching horror films now (I've gotten a lot more picky). I also don't draw corpses for the sake of drawing corpses anymore - that was just a byproduct of my fascination with horror movies anyway. My feelings for George Bush are the same, even if the George Bush isn't. It's also interest to note that I started the piece above by talking about what I look like and what I like to do. I guess that's an indication that I first defined myself by my appearance and interests, rather than the deeper, more personal stuff. Of course, I usually don't dig too deeply in any kind of public forum, including this blog.

I got an 'A' on the paper, and the professor wrote, you are "one of a kind", John, at the bottom. Hmmm.

Back in the present, I'm at the end of a two-week "vacation", and I start working at summer camp on Monday. The people at Bethel Church hired me, like they do pretty much every summer, to bring reptiles and arachnids to show their little summer campers, and I spent a couple of mornings this week doing that. I'm still working away at getting my teaching credentials too. Time is just flying by, like I was warned it would.

George Carlin is dead.

Fuck, and six other words.

R.I.P. George Carlin.

We all went to the park today, and the kids played for hours. While I watched Willow running through the spray in the water play area, a man nearby was singing sad songs in Spanish. I don't understand enough Spanish to tell you exactly what the songs were about, but his tone was plaintive. He broke the illusion of mystery by occasionally interrupting himself to talk on his cell phone. I think he was also listening to an I-pod. It was a strange juxtaposition, the quiet songs and the loud, laughing, children; the old and the new. Observing more carefully, I could see that even this sad singer of songs had a child there somewhere. Even though his feet were planted firmly on cement, they were buried in sand.

The kids are getting a few extra minutes out on their night hike tonight. I spent a moment looking out over the lower field. I could see a group of kids circled up out there in the near darkness. The sky above them, down by the horizon, was a vivid orange fading to light blue, and then to darkness. A razor thin crescent moon hangs in the sky, with the rest of it outlined in Earthshine.

It is heartbreakingly beautiful.

The hills to the southwest have been burning since Thursday. Here in the valley there were a couple of days where the thick campfire smell of smoke hung in the air. Being me, I kept imagining all of the burning Poison Oak bushes up in those hills, and what inhaling the smoke was doing to my lungs. Friday morning was particularly bad. I can't complain though. We still have our house.

Normally, I'd have left for work already, but thanks to good old Memorial Day there's no work tonight. So I can sit here and write boring blog posts instead.

Currently listening to: Leonard Cohen "Field Commander Cohen"

The temperature is supposed to drop this week, which isn't surprising because it sure couldn't have gotten much hotter. Despite the heat, I've still been walking to get the kids from school in the afternoon, dragging our squeaky, red Radio Flyer wagon behind with the girls safe inside. Sure, they could walk, but then they'd get tired and fight over which one got to be carried. Besides, Sophie likes to pretend she's in a limo going to Hollywood. Where she got that idea, I don't know, but it is kind of cute.

I only have three more weeks of working nights before the school year melts into summer. I'm looking forward to changing my weekday schedule back around and getting ready for summer camp to begin. I'm only working 6 weeks of summer camp this year, since the program for kids Willow's age only lasts that long. All the kids are coming to work with me for 6 weeks. I sure hope they don't burn out.

I need a new camera too. My screen has gone black. hmmm. That sounds like a grim metaphor, doesn't it? "Did you hear about Harry? His screen went black. The funeral is next week."

Currently listening to: Tanakh "Saunders Hollow"

First Harvest, originally uploaded by Corbie.

We all went to the Maker Faire a couple of weekends ago, and I've been meaning to blog about it but I haven't been able to download the photos from Jen's old camera. It seems that the software on my computer doesn't recognize it. I'll have to find the time to load the photos on to one of the other computers. In addition to this, my own camera's display screen has finally gone completely dark - it succumbed to the cold during a snowstorm up at Mt. Shasta a few month ago, but still worked well enough for me to see an image. No more.

The Maker Faire is an annual event up in San Mateo, with artisans, geeks, freaks, and other creative types converging on the San Mateo fairgrounds with their D.I.Y. projects. Objects on display (and sometimes for sale) ranged from arts & crafts to robots and rockets, and everything else in between. The kids got to see their first robot battle - actually a series of robot battles, with weight classes and everything. The very first robot to be sundered and have its pieces flung about the arena was one of the cute, little dinosaur robots the girls had been cuddling with earlier. I thought they'd be traumatized, but they were thrilled, even to the point of grabbing bits of crushed plastic and torn rubber skin from the aftermath. Jen got to indulge in some craft shopping, and we all got to hang out with Jeremy, who is a bit of a maker himself. As for myself, I've always wanted to spend more time making things, but don't always have the time, skills, or information I need. My one purchase for the day was a big block of red oak sawdust and rice bran impregnated with the mycelium of the Shiitake mushroom. The block is supposed to yield several "crops" of mushrooms (the part that grows above the ground is the "fruiting body" of the mushroom, used for reproductive purposes - the releasing of spores). Over the last week, I harvested my first batch of mushrooms, and damn, they're the best mushrooms I've ever eaten. I've been eating them raw too. Next time I'll try cooking them. Just a few minutes ago, I cut some mold off the block. Gotta watch that mold. Hopefully I'll have some more mushrooms soon. For your own block, go to Far West Fungi.

Another interesting site that had a booth at the faire was Instructables.com., which is billed as the world's biggest show and tell. It's full of user generated instructions for just about everything. Become a maker!

Speaking of making, I don't think I've mentioned in my blog (although she has mentioned it in hers, of course) that Jen had a short piece published in a book called "Can I Sit With You?". Along with several other authors featured in the book, she did a reading at Angelica's Bistro up in Redwood City. She did it well, too, despite her aversion to public speaking. We're all very proud of her. See an excerpt here.

At home, I'm continuing to walk to pick the kids up from school (tomorrow should be fun, with the forecast calling for record heat). Willow had her pre-Kindergarten assessment today, and she is ready for Kindergarten, which is no surprise to anybody. I'm told that she needs to work on her fine motor skills a bit though.

Everything in good time.

Currently listening to: Steve Von Till "A Grave is a Grim Horse"

Willow (as I drove her to school this morning): Why can't I play on the roof?

Here's a fun link. Keep refreshing for continued chuckles.

Even though her days are hectic, Jen still occasionally finds the time to send me an interesting link or two. Today, she sent me this one, which is essentially all about the joy and looming necessity of exploring your immediate neighborhood on foot. They call it a walkshed - sort of like a watershed for people, I guess. The whole idea is to get out there and see how many useful destinations are in walking distance. For instance, which stores are in a half-hour walking radius of your house? What about 45 minutes? An hour? Think of the saved gas money and the bulging calf muscles!

Thinking about it, I don't know my current neighborhood even a fraction as well as I knew my childhood haunts. Despite the fact that for the past three years (barring the current school year), I've hiked for a living, I still, shamefully, often drive when I could be walking. Blame schedules, or my inattention to the clock, or general to-much-to-do-ness, but I almost always drive to get the kids from school, which is only about five or six blocks away. Granted, I park around the corner rather than join the idling line of over-sized vehicles in front of the school, but still...

Today I walked. Willow rode her little plastic bigwheel (or whatever the heck they call them these days) and I brought the wagon because I didn't want any part of the scene that I was sure Sophie would make when she was faced with the prospect of... gasp... walking! As it was, she was so thrilled with the wagon ride that she wants to ride home that way every day. The boys were fine with it as well, but then again they often walk.

I'm going to try to keep this up. It was good to be out there in the Spring air, even if it was humid and overcast.

Then, coincidentally enough, the boys asked to go on a walk so they could "map the neighborhood." They're finally getting to the age where, equipped with a cell phone, it's more or less okay to let them wander off. And wander they did, with drinks and blank paper for making maps. I asked them just now if they actually made maps, to which Alex replied, "yeah, kinda." They plan on finishing the project later. Maybe I'll come along. I know that up the hill and around the corner there is the entrance to a hiking trail of some sort. It's probably not extensive, but it's definitely within walking distance. I've been meaning to mount an expedition up that way for awhile, but I'm such a damn procrastinator. There's also the added problem of getting all four kids (and attendant friends), to all agree at the same time to do the same thing.

One can only try.

(cue voice of Yoda) "There is no try. There is only do!"

Current listening: Crow Tongue "ditch mix volume three"

Unless..., originally uploaded by Corbie.

I spent last weekend down in Malibu, at a place called Camp Hess Kramer, for the Association for Environmental and Outdoor Education's (AEOE) Spring Conference. This is the second AEOE conference I've been to, and the first down in southern California. This time, ten of us went - naturalists, one of our cabin leader advisors, and a cabin leader/songwriter who lent her talents to the AEOE talent show and helped us win two of the four categories. We won for having a skit most closely related to the conference theme (Unless...), and cabin leader extraordinaire, Guinea Pig, won "most educational" for her song, You're Not A Loam. Hear it on her MySpace page. The skit was truly collaborative (both in its creation and in its message), but the song was all Guinea Pig's. We did have and extra collaborator show up while we practiced though - when our cabin leader adviser, Sequoia, put on his hood, a small, agitated scorpion fell out. I think I was more amused than he was.
As for the rest of the proceedings, the conference featured a great number of workshops, the intent of which was to make us more well-rounded outdoor educators. I was disappointed that the workshop where we were supposed to get a chance to dissect a Humboldt Squid, didn't in fact have said squid on hand, but other than that, I had a fun time, going to a workshop on "keeping the magic alive" led by Steve Van Zandt from San Mateo Outdoor Education, a workshop on Cage-free children led by Elaine Gibson from the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, in which the subject of parental fear was discussed (if anything, it made me rethink the boundaries I set for our children at home more than it had any applications for the children I watch over at work), a workshop on working with English Language Learners (I didn't get a lot of new information from this one, but I did pick up a couple of extraneous activities from a fellow attendee), and a workshop on fire-making (I can now, among other things, make fire using only a flashlight and steel wool). This last workshop probably taught me most, in terms of new skills, but they were all inspiring in a way that makes me regret not being in the field at the moment. Summer camp is only about six weeks away though.

In addition to this, the conference was situated in a canyon that opened onto the beach, so the surroundings were beautiful. I took myself on a hike up to the nearest ridge during the first workshop session, enjoying the view of the pacific and the cacti that grew here and there in the hot, crumbly chaparral soil. I had hoped to see some reptiles, but only saw the region's ubiquitous Western Fence lizards. Despite their relative ordinariness, I took pictures of them anyway. Hiking up the same trail at night, I experienced the infamous Santa Ana winds, which felt for all the world like somebody was aiming a hair dryer at my face.

The conference also afforded my the opportunity to see at least one of my co-workers falling-down drunk. To his credit, he could still deliver a mean astronomy lecture despite being barely able to stand up. Also on hand for the conference was an ex-coworker who worked with us for a few months last year, and now works at the Yosemite Institute. I didn't really know anybody else though.

It was all over quickly, of course, and now I'm in the middle of a week off from work. I'm getting more sleep that usual, but for some reason I'm still tired.

Willow is calling from the other room again. I think her pancake is ready...