Brian,
Okay, I will admit this is a completely inappropriate use of my blog, but the truth is, I haven't been able to hunt you down and you leave me little choice. Your gmail is no longer working. You've changed your phone number. You took yourself off FB and it was only by chance that I happened to see the "good-bye facebook world" message before it vanished seconds after I started to process just what that meant. And the likelihood you're going to find me in this corner of cyberspace? Pretty unlikely. So, I will give this siren-song that might need to be sung a time or two ...or more.... before I stop bellowing into voids hoping that you hear.
Why the to-do? I want so much to share with you, you who will so richly understand, what has been going on. You, who is also Buddhist, and a vegetarian to boot. Don't hold your breathe for me to give up meat (or as you call it: carcass), but then I would have said there's no way, ever, I would would walk away from Christianity, so there you go. ...maybe vegetarianism is in my future. I'm learning that "never" doesn't exist -- nor should it. (Should the word, "should" exist?) Okay, so that's one way to tell you about my shifting world views. Over the phone would have been better, but like I said, that's not possible.
You know those yellow letters you painstakingly cut out and put on the dark blue paper on the right of your smartboard? The ones that said, "The limits of my language are the limits of my world"? I find myself thinking about that a whole lot recently. I loved that quote for what it meant in that space at that time. But, even now, I'm realizing how limited my language and world have been by perameters of safety I built around myself. Zim, you remember that night after the last day of school and we stood on the brick sidewalk of North East and you railed against my faith and my believing something that seemed so wrong for all of the other stuff you knew about me? You yelled and yelled and didn't actually want me to respond. You only wanted me to hear you out? And you kept pointing down at the bricks saying, "These! These are good bricks! They are just bricks. Just bricks. But they are good," trying to get me to see that life, the here and now, this is what matters. Those were not bricks to cry out about God's glory, as you were saying, but they were just bricks.
I'm going to use that quote in my narrative therapy paper in a couple of days: "The limits of my language are the limits of my world." I thank you for it too. I also want you to know just how much of a post-modernist I really am. Oh, I have opened my arms and embraced society's need to question and seek and have each person hold true to what is true for themselves. It's a beautiful thing. One that's brought in something weird -- something like peace, but not. I no longer feel the need to be rebellious or difficult to prove something. If Stammler confronted me about drinking tea in my classroom today, I think instead of telling him off.... No, I would have to tell him off -- but for other reasons. Not because I was scared and he was threatening. Not because he shoved me into a proverbial corner. But because not allowing me to drink tea while teaching is ridiculous. It's a ridiculous controlling maneuver that needs to be addressed, but maybe not in the way that I went about it years ago, but still addressed.
The rebellion thing that I did occasionally, I don't know if I need that so much anymore. In fact, the incessant apologizing?? Oh, gosh I think I would have apologized for breathing someone else's air if they wanted it. In just a few short weeks, people around me are noticing that I'm not apologizing all the time. I'm also becoming cognizant of not putting myself down too. That's been a great thing. I hate that I thought of myself as a moron for as long as I have -- all because of the family I grew up in. UGH. I want to talk to you about the changes in my family and the bold decisions I've been making lately.
Brian, see, these are things I want to share with you. I get why we aren't friends, but I think I'm not willing to let go to who you have been in my life. I am one of the only people who has made you eggplant that you've actually liked. Dave said we were fated to work together one day when we got into the conversation about eastern versus western philosophies about time and occurrences. Remember that day we sat pounding on the lunch table, "It just doesn't matter?" and we got reprimanded by JoLynn and Marcia? Or although I procrastinated and almost didn't get it done in time, you said that my edit of your entrance essay to grad school was the best one you got out of everyone you gave it to?
There are big things going on in my life and I can't talk to you about them; that makes me sad. I feel like a small part of my past is missing without you back there to call occasionally. I need to hear you say things like, "Never marry a Christian," or "A dose is not does and a docent is so different from dosen't." But more than all of those things, I want you to know I respect the time and space you need -- the work you are doing and the sacrifices you are making for your marriage. The fact that you've given up on the PhD; our friendship pales with that sacrifice. And as your friend, I support your decisions.
And since you won't respond to this, or even know I wrote it, I will call you Zimmeroooni just for my total enjoyment since I know that it cannot irritate you -- that which you cannot read and cannot hear cannot affect you, right? Or is that just my perception of the situation? Will this being out in cyberspace actually change circumstances? I doubt it. But do, do, do let me know if it does. Send me a new cd mix - I want to know what you're listening to. I would send you a mix, if I knew where to send it. My musical tastes have changed wildly and drastically in the past couple of months -- I think you would approve.
All of my heart to you,
Beam
Okay, I will admit this is a completely inappropriate use of my blog, but the truth is, I haven't been able to hunt you down and you leave me little choice. Your gmail is no longer working. You've changed your phone number. You took yourself off FB and it was only by chance that I happened to see the "good-bye facebook world" message before it vanished seconds after I started to process just what that meant. And the likelihood you're going to find me in this corner of cyberspace? Pretty unlikely. So, I will give this siren-song that might need to be sung a time or two ...or more.... before I stop bellowing into voids hoping that you hear.
Why the to-do? I want so much to share with you, you who will so richly understand, what has been going on. You, who is also Buddhist, and a vegetarian to boot. Don't hold your breathe for me to give up meat (or as you call it: carcass), but then I would have said there's no way, ever, I would would walk away from Christianity, so there you go. ...maybe vegetarianism is in my future. I'm learning that "never" doesn't exist -- nor should it. (Should the word, "should" exist?) Okay, so that's one way to tell you about my shifting world views. Over the phone would have been better, but like I said, that's not possible.
You know those yellow letters you painstakingly cut out and put on the dark blue paper on the right of your smartboard? The ones that said, "The limits of my language are the limits of my world"? I find myself thinking about that a whole lot recently. I loved that quote for what it meant in that space at that time. But, even now, I'm realizing how limited my language and world have been by perameters of safety I built around myself. Zim, you remember that night after the last day of school and we stood on the brick sidewalk of North East and you railed against my faith and my believing something that seemed so wrong for all of the other stuff you knew about me? You yelled and yelled and didn't actually want me to respond. You only wanted me to hear you out? And you kept pointing down at the bricks saying, "These! These are good bricks! They are just bricks. Just bricks. But they are good," trying to get me to see that life, the here and now, this is what matters. Those were not bricks to cry out about God's glory, as you were saying, but they were just bricks.
I'm going to use that quote in my narrative therapy paper in a couple of days: "The limits of my language are the limits of my world." I thank you for it too. I also want you to know just how much of a post-modernist I really am. Oh, I have opened my arms and embraced society's need to question and seek and have each person hold true to what is true for themselves. It's a beautiful thing. One that's brought in something weird -- something like peace, but not. I no longer feel the need to be rebellious or difficult to prove something. If Stammler confronted me about drinking tea in my classroom today, I think instead of telling him off.... No, I would have to tell him off -- but for other reasons. Not because I was scared and he was threatening. Not because he shoved me into a proverbial corner. But because not allowing me to drink tea while teaching is ridiculous. It's a ridiculous controlling maneuver that needs to be addressed, but maybe not in the way that I went about it years ago, but still addressed.
The rebellion thing that I did occasionally, I don't know if I need that so much anymore. In fact, the incessant apologizing?? Oh, gosh I think I would have apologized for breathing someone else's air if they wanted it. In just a few short weeks, people around me are noticing that I'm not apologizing all the time. I'm also becoming cognizant of not putting myself down too. That's been a great thing. I hate that I thought of myself as a moron for as long as I have -- all because of the family I grew up in. UGH. I want to talk to you about the changes in my family and the bold decisions I've been making lately.
Brian, see, these are things I want to share with you. I get why we aren't friends, but I think I'm not willing to let go to who you have been in my life. I am one of the only people who has made you eggplant that you've actually liked. Dave said we were fated to work together one day when we got into the conversation about eastern versus western philosophies about time and occurrences. Remember that day we sat pounding on the lunch table, "It just doesn't matter?" and we got reprimanded by JoLynn and Marcia? Or although I procrastinated and almost didn't get it done in time, you said that my edit of your entrance essay to grad school was the best one you got out of everyone you gave it to?
There are big things going on in my life and I can't talk to you about them; that makes me sad. I feel like a small part of my past is missing without you back there to call occasionally. I need to hear you say things like, "Never marry a Christian," or "A dose is not does and a docent is so different from dosen't." But more than all of those things, I want you to know I respect the time and space you need -- the work you are doing and the sacrifices you are making for your marriage. The fact that you've given up on the PhD; our friendship pales with that sacrifice. And as your friend, I support your decisions.
And since you won't respond to this, or even know I wrote it, I will call you Zimmeroooni just for my total enjoyment since I know that it cannot irritate you -- that which you cannot read and cannot hear cannot affect you, right? Or is that just my perception of the situation? Will this being out in cyberspace actually change circumstances? I doubt it. But do, do, do let me know if it does. Send me a new cd mix - I want to know what you're listening to. I would send you a mix, if I knew where to send it. My musical tastes have changed wildly and drastically in the past couple of months -- I think you would approve.
All of my heart to you,
Beam
