day 4 of my retreat

I am sitting here in my cosy little cabin in Woodstock, Vermont.  I am so happy here.  I brought tons of books and paper and notebooks and I've been eating good food and just being by myself.  The silence (and the sound of the brook outside) is healing me.  (OK, I also did binge watch Law and Order: SVU for a while, but I think I got that out of my system.)

It's raining today and I've been working on going through all the crazy notes I wrote to myself at the end of the school year that seemed important at the time but are kind of like those things you write in the middle of the night when you get a great idea.  Very few of them are actually rational things I might actually do.  Still it's kind of fun seeing what was going on in my mind just a week or so ago.  At the end of this year I realized how exhausted I was from teaching and I'm starting to think that I'm getting too old for this.  Not in a bad way, just wondering what the next thing is going to be.  

My midlife crisis

Sorry, I accidentally published this draft from a long time ago.  I am not that great with technology but I think I'll just leave it here.

I've been writing in my journal a lot but I figured why not write here instead.  It feels slightly less self-centered.  I am having a midlife crisis and it is so typical that I can't discuss it.  What the hell?  I guess the bonus feature is that I'm a person with mental illness, so the craziness is even crazier.  I have been at home for the last three days sitting around and reading old journals and writing and watching Law & Order and not eating correctly.  Here are some things I have eaten:  cinnamon roll, Easter bunny ears, oatmeal cookies from Ikea, Sweetarts.  Did I mention that I have diabetes?  Obviously I have food issues but I sort of feel like they take a back seat to my craziness.  It's hard to describe.  I have always felt kind of like a space person who is pretending to be human and it's like my systems got all messed up.  My brain isn't working the way I want it to and I can't figure things out and I don't care sometimes.  The not caring is the scariest part because caring about stuff is sort of who I think I am.  And everyone keeps telling me to take care of myself and put the oxygen mask on myself first and all that stuff and I don't know how to do that.  So I'm taking deep breaths and walks (ok, one walk) and petting the cat and just wondering.  What is my life supposed to be about?  If I get an answer I'll let you know, interwebs.

My messy life.

Please note:  this was an occasional paper that I wrote to share with my students, so you have to imagine me saying it out loud.  It sounds better that way.

OP

I am a mess.  I mean, my house is a mess, my desk is a mess, and I’ve begun storing stuff on the floor in here (my classroom) because I don’t have anywhere to put it.  I think that some of this is due to my lack of organizational skills.  This is in spite of reading every book on organizing and thinking about it almost constantly, in spite of purchasing all kinds of storage boxes and drawers and such, and in spite of looking at websites of organized people, online discussions, and really doing everything you could do without actually doing the thing.  It’s an advanced form of procrastination in which I am quite skilled.  I am an intelligent person.  I know what I need to do, and it does not involve poring over the catalog from The Container Store.

Sometimes I tell myself that all this clutter shows I am a creative person and that others find it quite charming.  There’s a book called A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder - How Crammed Closets, Cluttered Offices, and on-the-Fly Planning Make the World a Better Place and of course I love it because it focuses on how a lot of important discoveries (like penicillin) happened because of stuff sitting around on a messy desk.  However, I cannot sustain this belief when I realize that sometimes I don’t create things because I can’t find the supplies I need or because I don’t have the empty space that is necessary for me to get started.  (Side note: that may be why I have a million notebooks with the first ten pages filled in.)  

I know deep in my heart that the real problem is I just have too much stuff.  That’s one of the main reasons it’s disorganized.  I must simplify.  I love the idea of a minimalist life.  It also actually fits in with my Zen philosophy of non- attachment.  There isn’t any thing in my life that I’m especially attached to.  When we had a house fire years ago it caused me to think about what I would save (luckily we didn’t lose everything) and I came to the conclusion that my journals and photographs are the only things that can’t be replaced and even those, if I lost them, would be a weird relief in a way because they are sitting there waiting for me to reread and write about or put in albums or scan or something and sending out these vibes of why-aren’t-you-dealing-with-me constantly.

One of my all time favorite organizational books is  The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up which is a wonderful Japanese method of simplifying that involves taking each object, holding it, and deciding if it brings joy to you.  If it doesn’t bring joy, get rid of it.  It sounds like a beautiful process and I’ve actually tried it a little and it totally works. But I don’t have the stamina to follow through on anything larger than my underwear drawer.  Either I like having stuff too much (consumerism) or I am just lazy (bad character).  I know that being judgmental and mean to myself doesn’t help, but honestly it has become a real problem, especially since I started having memory issues (a different OP).  Sometimes I use the excuse that I am “collecting” things as part of a “collection,” but that just doesn’t fly for most of it (socks, books I will never read, glasses that I can’t see out of anymore, and ironically, empty boxes that I am saving for future organizational needs).

I admire people who seem to have this figured out, like Mrs. Kochiss and my sister.  I wonder if they actually just have a secret stash of junk but I don’t think so.  And frankly, I would be satisfied if my junk fit into a secret stash anyway instead of bursting out of closets and filing cabinets in the real world.  (Parenthetical aside: There is one area in which I finally figured out how to deal with the overwhelming amount of ideas, to dos, and appointments that I have  — it’s my bullet journal and I would be happy to explain it to you if you’d like because I am inordinately proud of having a system that works in some aspect of my life.)

I’ve had a quote by Flaubert on my desk all year (I periodically unearth it when I’m doing a massive frustrated paper rearrangement): “Be regular and orderly in your life like a Bourgeois so that you may be violent and original in your work.”  I know from experience that I think more clearly and do better work if my space is cleared.   I have a room at our house that is my writing/art room with all my supplies, cool stuff, etc. and the state of that room directly reflects the state of my mind.  Right now it looks like an episode of Hoarders.  Literally.  (Remember I am an English teacher so I don’t use this word lightly.) I have to write on the living room couch or the kitchen table which is not ideal because people walk in and out and ask me questions to things they should know for themselves, like “Do we have milk” and “Why did (insert name of someone not me) steal my phone charger and where is it?”

I guess it’s lucky I’m a writer so a good portion of my hoard is in words online.  Although I worry about the intangible nature of that and am constantly fighting the urge to print everything, just in case.  

Writing this essay was harder for me than writing about my mental illness, my relationship with my absent father, and my dog dying.  I don’t know why.  I guess because this is something I’m embarrassed about, not something that happened to me.  I am completely responsible for this ongoing condition that has an obvious solution.  I’ve spent countless money, time, and energy thinking about it (and writing about it) my whole life.  

I have planned a retreat for myself right after school gets out — I’m going to stay at a tiny house that I rented in Vermont, completely alone, for 10 days.  During this time, I hope to get a lot of reading and writing done, but I also want to meditate on what is most important to me in life and how I can simplify my dependence on things and actually make that happen.  Not just through good intentions but a realistic plan that I’m committed to.  If I figure this out, I will let you know.  In fact, I will write an essay and probably a book about it.  But after 47 years of inability to tame this monster (I have photographic evidence that even as a baby I found being surrounded by junk comforting) it’s one of the few things I can’t figure out no matter how much I try.  And not being able to figure something out even when I try really hard is among the top five things I hate (which is another occasional paper, but just in case you’re interested includes the taste of mushrooms, people who use the term “snail mail” or say anything derogatory about the U.S. Postal Service, and writing conclusions.  Obviously).  It’s never-ending.  It’s part of who I am.  But that doesn’t mean that in the second half of my life I will give up fighting it.  Just thinking about dying in a pile of books, office supplies and half finished knitting projects makes me know that I need to continue my battle.  Cue theme from Rocky and montage of scenes where I am unloading boxes at Goodwill, standing with my arms on my hips looking at an empty room, a clipboard with things checked off, etc.

(warning) Unedited Rant

why I'm really scared of donald trump

he is a rich white guy who is symbolically controlling the world and making a huge mess of it.

but what he stands for — that rich white guys control the world — is true.

take almost any product you buy and research the company that made it.

it’s complicated because rich white guys have a lot of lawyers who complicate things so busy or uneducated or illiterate people don’t/can’t bother to research it.

unless you bought the product from the person who actually made it (and made all the ingredients or parts that the thing was made of), you probably bought something from a company that owns a company that owns a company that has another name and an offshore account that owns a company that owns a company that owns everything.

your purchase will in the end will put a few pennies in a rich white guy’s pocket, because he controls what you want and what you spend

those people who sound crazy, who say “there are [insert number] of companies that own everything” are right.

but most of us are too lazy or busy or distracted to think about it, so we keep putting money in their pockets without paying attentipn, which allows them to use child labor, to discriminate against women, to feed the war machine, to create more and more levels of bureaucracy that conspire to keep a regular person from understanding just how messed up this system is.

that’s why I say I’m reclaiming patriotism for the left — the radicals

we are a people who came from people who believed that individuals had rights.  that big organizations, like monarchies and companies, needed to be held accountable for what they did to individuals, because the rich white guys were taking all the stuff and money for themselves, from both the indigenous people and the newcomers who didn’t have power 

america is a nation that was strong because of its immigrant population and all the ideas and energy and cheap labor they brought to its shores.

that’s what we believe — that people should be allowed to be creative, and work hard, and it doesn’t matter who you are or what color your skin is or where you went to college or what your last name is or if you are male or female or something in between — because the artists, the people who come up with ideas and are laughed at because mainstream culture doesn’t accept them yet — are the ones we need to hold up and support.  They come up with the crazy ideas that ten years later we all think are great.  And we also need to support the people who work so hard, the ones who aren’t lazy and keep failing over and over and keep going.  We can’t all be artistic geniuses, but we can recognize that people want to do meaningful work and we can respect every single human being on the planet and remember that every person is a human being just. like. you.

donald trump’s biggest fear == the lie that they’ve been telling us for the past 200 years == their biggest fear — the biggest secret — is that if all of us ordinary people actually figured out how badly we were being screwed by the system they created, we could take over the world

but we’re too busy.  too caught up in our work, which we do to get money so we can buy things and put money in their pockets.  it’s like the whole world is a factory and we are all the slaves to the super rich white guys who hold all the control.

what can we do?

stop buying things - make them, recycle them, give them to someone else, barter or ask someone to help you

reach out to someone who is not you — in prison, another country, mentally ill, or poor and find out what that individual person’s life is like.  look at the charities you give to and figure out how you can do something human for someone who is actually going through this crisis — person to person, hand to hand, even though its scary at first

know your neighbors, the people who live next door to you, so you can help each other

watch each others’ children as if they are your own (not just the children of your friends, but the children who live in your neighborhood, your town, your state, your country, your world— give them the things that you would give your own child — education, food, love

figure out what makes you happy and try to do that a lot as long as it doesn’t hurt other people

the people who have a lot should share with the people who don’t have a lot

then everyone can get healthy and know stuff so we can all communicate and get together (this is a lot of people, people!) and say to the rich white guys,

we want to work together.  screw your system.  we are going to trust and love and help each other even if you tell us that’s crazy

because your words can’t control us

after you read this, go do something to help us all out

(or just don’t do something that keeps us in this hamster wheel)

Hello Again

It is very strange to revisit my blog after years away.  My voice as a writer is still the same, I think, but my perspectives have changed.  Now I'm 47 and have two teenagers -- I'm no longer the mother of young kids, and although I'm still an English teacher I have gone through a lot of change in my role and perspectives on teaching.
We just came back from Japan, again, though, and it seems like the time is right to come back here.
If you've just joined me, welcome.  And if you are a friend from long ago, I am so happy that you are here.  Thank you for reading.
Megumi

Here I am as baby Megumi and this year.  It's been a long time.

Japan bound

It's a weird day -- the day before we leave for Japan.  Everything is in kind of a liminal state, waiting to be used.  I am excited and nervous and happy and sad.  I think this journey will be meaningful in some way for me, so I am watching out for signs.  Lately I've been interested in paring things down to their basics, like the three t-shirts and one pen that I totally love and must have with me.  So I am using this trip as an experiment in some ways, to see what I really need.  Wish me luck!

Practice

I've always been interested in meditation -- typical of me, I read books about it, go on retreats to learn about it, create altars and cool spaces, and never actually do it.  So as part of my attempt to get out of this cloud, I made a promise to myself:  I will sit for 10 minutes every day, morning and evening.  Nothing big or grand, just sit.  I'm announcing this to the world because I feel sort of embarrassed about it (why?).  I don't have a goal or anything, I'm just sitting. Three days so far, of just sitting.  I can't tell if anything is happening, but I'm going to keep sitting for a while now.