let's stumble towards success and pack some snacks for little breaks

The temperature is in the nineties in KC this week. I called Mom to see if I could drive home, or at least get a ride, but she didn't pick up the phone, so I had to walk the ten blocks or so in the heat, in my black work pants.

I decided that no human being could be expected to do that without some defense against the heat, so I bought a box of six lime popsicles. I gave three to co-workers who were on break; they were very happy to get them, and that made me feel good. I ate one, making it last most of the way home. I was going to give the other two to the people who had been outside the store all day petitioning to reverse the light rail decision (I don't agree at all with them, but they were nice to me, and they'd been out there for hours), but they'd left already, so I kept the remaining popsicles and put them in the freezer when I got home.

Sometimes life sucks, and the problem can't be solved without massive amounts of effort, money, time, and luck.

Sometimes life sucks, and all you need to make it better is popsicles.

Well, not really a moment. More of a semester-long hangup.

For my big history group project on the New Deal, I'm supposed to either research an initiative that affected the Kansas City area or interview someone who was born before 1931. It seems like a no-brainer: I like talking to people, I'm editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, and I live right next to a friendly elderly couple. But the project is due Friday, and until today, I hadn't done a single thing.

It took me three months to work up the courage to call them. I couldn't even walk next door and ask for an interview. What on earth? Is this really me? You all know me- I'm hardly a timid person. It might have had something to do with having to ask about their age, and it might have had something to do with Henry getting mad at my mom for not helping shovel the snow that one time last fall, but things like that don't usually bug me. Certainly not enough for me to let it hold up my project for three months.

I just called, and Henry cheerfully informed me that he was born in 1928 and would be happy to help me however he could. It was incredibly easy, and my life would be a hell of a lot simpler this week had I done it when we first got the assignment on the first day of class.

The lesson: if the only risk is a snub, just do it. What's the point in letting nerves win out when the worst they can say is "no"?

I've been sitting here trying to put this into words for ten minutes, and it's simply not working.

I need to acknowledge that not everyone shares my interests. When I find something that I think is incredibly interesting or vitally important, and other people don't share that fascination, I can't let that stop me from charging forward and doing it or learning about it or making it happen. The apathy of others is a reason to get more fired up, not a reason to give up because I'm the only one who cares.

I think that's almost what I'm trying to say.

I don’t like routine, as a rule. It bores me to do the same thing day after day, or even week after week. And yet, this morning, I woke up when my alarm went off, got up, used the bathroom, got dressed, went downstairs, ate a quick breakfast, checked my e-mail, put on my backpack, took the bus to Penn Valley, and walked up to work. From six-thirty (six o’clock if I take a shower) to eight in the morning, there is very little variation in this routine.

It’s unusual for me to do the same thing every morning. In fact, I’ve only been following this particular routine since the first day of classes a week and a day ago. Unless I find a non-bus ride to school in the mornings, I doubt it will change until December. Normally, that would bother me. Somehow, though, I don’t mind.

I think it’s because this routine gets me from sleep to a state in which I can face the day. I’m always a little groggy at home and on the bus, but by the time I get to work, I’m ready and able to handle life as it comes. When Mom or Bill drove me to school most mornings, that grogginess stayed with me through my first class. This way, even if I’m still sleepy when I get to school, I have a few hours of early-morning work to help me wake up before I need to really focus on anything. (Of course I focus on my tutoring sessions, but most papers are suffering from a subset of a group of problems I've learned to explain so that most students will understand. I don’t always need to use my brain very much.)

If my routine stayed the same all day, every day, I would hate it. And my days now are similar enough that after a while, they could get old: I have the same schedule each week, plus or minus a few things, and I see mostly the same people. But it’s varied enough to keep me interested for now, and it will all change next semester. I’m happy with that.

Last night, I listened to this song on repeat as I fell asleep. It's one of those songs with so many layers that I can listen to it over and over for hours without getting tired of it. It's about coping after losing someone close to you, but I didn't realize that until after I'd fallen in love with it. It makes me think about Evan and Larry, and how they've made an impact on my life. It makes me think about how much I've changed in the last year, in the last month, in the last hour. It makes me think about how lucky I am.

I'm not a music critic. I don't know much about riffs and influences and sounds, the things music geeks talk about when recommending music. All I know is what I like and what I don't like, and I like this.

It kind of makes me uncomfortable when other people fall in love with music, and send it to me, and really want me to like it, and I find it mediocre or bad. So it's okay if you don't like this song. Not everyone has the same musical tastes. But it really affected me, and I wanted to share it. I hope you enjoy it too.

"Afterglow" by INXS

( Lyrics )

I wrote an article for the Spectrum about HIV/AIDS. My original focus was its emotional effects on people, but when I started gathering quotes, I changed my mind. I let the quotes guide the article, and tried to keep myself out of it as much as possible. I would really appreciate comments on it. It's due today, but I should be able to change it until Wednesday. Please be brutal. I want this article to be good.

( It's under the cut. )

Can I just point out that the only (repeat, only) person I have ever known to express a preference for toothpick-thin chicks was a lesbian? Seriously, girls. That whole thing about guys who care about weight not being worth your time- it's not bullshit, and even if it were, I suspect that there are far more guys who prefer un-thin women than most of my female friends seem to think.

Quit obsessing. It's honestly not worth it.

In other news, I went to a haunted house with Dan, Dave and Tobria last night. It was fun. Screaming like a girl when things jump out at me and growl is not my thing, but being completely unsurprised and saying, "Hey, what's up?" and seeing the looks on their faces is, and watching Toby jump and scream like a girl and grab onto whoever is closest definitely is.

I just remembered a field trip I took when I was going to the Waldorf school in fifth grade. We went to an Egyptian museum, and I spent most of the time rather bored because we were rushed past the parts I wanted to see (like the copy they had of the Rosetta Stone) and given lectures on the parts I wasn't interested in (like jewelry). At the end of the trip, as we were about to leave, Sean (another student) and I sat down in front of a movie about Queen Hatshepsut. It was a really cool video, and we were both intrigued, but Ms. Warren made us leave after about two minutes.

I don't remember a single thing about any of the stuff they made us see, but I do remember Queen Hatshepsut, and I do remember a lot about the Rosetta Stone. Because I was interested in them, and I wanted to learn about them, and I know I would have learned a hell of a lot MORE about them if I'd been allowed to.

I liked the Waldorf School when I was going there. I pretended I didn't when I talked to Mom, because I knew she didn't want me to like it, but I did. I liked the constant contact with people, the power plays with the teachers (the reason I ended up expelled), the big recess yard with all the vegetation. I liked the drawing class, taught by Miles's grandpa, and I liked being able to whup the other kids' asses at everyday schoolwork. I liked the attention I got when I didn't do what I was supposed to. There wasn't much homework at all, and no grades, only evaluations.

But that year was a complete pause in my actual education. The only thing I learned at the Waldorf school was how to hold my pencil wrong, and I was too tired after school to learn on my own. Mom was working then, so she didn't have much time, either. And during my time at the Waldorf school, I turned into a prep. My best friend was a girl called Monet, who had a gorgeous body and showed it off as much as the dress code allowed. Last I heard (which was the fall of 2002, when we were both twelve), she was smoking, drinking, and running away to Vacaville with her sixteen-year-old boyfriend who thought she was fourteen.

This is not to say I think my education has been perfect in all other ways. I do criticize the way my mom taught me and is teaching Clayton- unschooling, a method with quite a few flaws, in my opinion. Clayton is currently spending most of his time playing video games and reading manga comics. The unschooling argument is that he will motivate himself when he's ready. I motivated myself when I was ready, at age eleven, and now I take college courses and have a plan for my life. I do think my education has gaps because of the way I was brought up, but I'm independent and ambitious enough to deal with them. Cordell, on the other hand, is almost seventeen and doing nothing with his life. I don't think this is completely Mom's fault, nor do I think he would do any better in a public institution, but perhaps he would have done well with a little more guidance and instruction. Homeschooling should definitely be tailor-made for the child. That's the point of it, isn't it?

None of this is meant as jabs toward anyone or their choice of schooling, by the way. I'm just writing down some of the stuff that's clogging up my brain.