Find My Courage
I'm a blogger from way back, and I mean back before there were
ready-made, customizable blogging platforms. Most of those blogs are
lost forever, but just before I was blogging about gratitude, I was
blogging about finding my courage. The blog's title comes from the book
Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan. I first read the book when I
was in the middle of my own coming out process, and there was one
particular line that really stuck with me: "I find my greatest strength
in wanting to be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be
brave...If there's no feeling of fear, then there's no need for
courage." And so as I moved from college to graduate school, through
classes, friendship, hope for relationships, coming to terms with my
mother's death, and musings on life in general, I recorded my journey towards courage in
blog entries. The whole blog is still available here, but I've included excerpts from some of my favorite entries below.
distance or why Thanksgiving is heartwarming
I say scariest because, despite the number of times I told myself "I am
an adult" when I overloaded a UHaul truck to graduate school, I wasn't
really an adult yet. I was still a kid in school. The day I got the
final notice from a PhD program that my time spent on the wait list was
to be, ultimately, unsuccessful, I suddenly found myself staring at a
bigger and much more intimidating wall of impending adulthood. Self, I said, you've been training for 24 years. Now it's time to use that training and get a real job. view full entry here
Virginia Woolf was right
"Free time" means thinking time. "Free time" means time to look at the
world. "Free time" means time to write. I miss recording my thoughts
on my blog and in my private journal. I miss spending time making notes
for a future (dreamland) book of amusing yet thought-provoking essays.
Writing is a privilege. Old Ginny had it right when she said that
writing is the result of a well-nourished, generally supported mind. My
mind doesn't feel that way these days. Most days I feel like I am at
the bottom of a giant mound. My goal is the top of the mound but the
mound is steep and ever time I start to climb it grows ten feet taller
(this mound is obviously fed by a subduction zone). I keep plugging
away but my brain gets tired.
view full entry here
and that's life
When I get home, I going to swing by Barnes and Noble and buy a book for
my mom. I saw several listed in the Mother's Day spread in
Entertainment Weekly. They even had a section of books listed for
"Mom's who like to read." That's my mom. It's been cold lately but I
am sure, when I get home, it will be sunny out, and my mom's flowers
will be in full bloom, and there will be just enough of a breeze to waft
the pages of our books as we read together. view full entry here
creative people
Paris became about a lifestyle--the artist's lifestyle. Jack would
play, I would write, we would spend long hours drinking with purpose and
then wander the streets and, for me, it was all about experience. Like
most artists, we weren't too terribly productive during our time in
Paris (uhm, it takes time, duh) but it was worth it. view full entry here
will you get in the car now, ma?
My sister told me the story once about my bike accident. I don't
remember it--I was unconscious for a while. The last thing I remember
was closing my eyes for a second too long. I woke up in a hospital room
with imprints a bridge on my face. But my sister remembers sitting at
the table with my mom and my dad while I was out on my bike. Somebody
told someone where I lived and sent someone else running to tell my
parents that I had been hurt. As my sister remembers it, my mom was up,
keys in hand, and out the door before my sister or my dad could even
process what was going on. My mom's baby was hurt. That's all she had
to know. view full entry here
i sleep with my baby blanket
Somewhere along the line, however, in between therapy sessions and
finding myself in literature, I recovered my baby blanket. Perhaps it
was the first night I cried myself to sleep after I was ousted from my
double-life. Or maybe it was just the first night I drank too much
alcohol and needed something comforting to put me to sleep in a spinning
bed. Regardless, I found what I needed. I found the appropriate
amount of comfort in the past while staying firmly grounded in the
present. view full entry here
you go girl
It seems weird to title a post about feminism with "girl" but it's a
queer saying along the lines of greeting a friend with "Hey girl, hey!"
so I am sticking with it. Consider it inter-marginalized-group lingo. view full entry here
live and learn...
Last night my brother and I did a long, drawn-out face regime involving no less than six products and and a power tool (bathroom variety, dahling).
The end of the regime started with a flirtation with a bronzer that
injects Vitamin C into your face from the first dusting to the next time
you plug in the Clarisonic scrubber. According to my brother we looked
catalog perfect. view full entry here
adult-sized swing sets
I was annoyed until we discovered an odd sidewalk leading into the woods
from the tip of one of the cul-de-sacs. (We had previously discovered
one such sidewalk in suburbia world and had significant reason to
believe that it a.) was a public sidewalk, and b.) that it led
somewhere.) We took it and had to walk over some weeds and through some
grass down a tunnel-like section of woods. Then we rounded the corner
and we were in a park--a two acre ridge of grass overlooking the hospice
and the road we drive on every day. The best part of this park is the
playground. view full entry here
puckered lips
Sometimes I want to ask her things. I am writing ten pages of my
autobiography for an American Autobiography / Memoir course and I am
trying to describe my neighborhood--modest homes with flat backyard
boxes. Then I realized that my backyard slopes downhill and borders on a
field instead of someone else's backyard. I remembered all of the
sudden that the backyard was a selling point for my mother and I
wondered, while smoking a cigarette in the humid parking lot, what did
it feel like for her to move in to that house, go to sleep, wake up, and
look out that back door on that view that was hers for the first time?
I want to ask her that, but I can't. view full entry here
jack kerouac and childhood memories
I saw an old Disney movie--from back when Disney actually spoke to a
generation through actual, realistic events from society. It is called Wish Upon A Star and
it brings back so many memories. Memories of watching it while drawing
up house plans, while building models of buildings, while being a nerd
in general, but also memories of watching that film and being confident
that I would find absolution the same way those high school girls did.
Looking back, I haven't found it, and when considering Kerouac, I
realize that the world will always be too huge, it will always be
vaulting us. The best we can do is hold on to each other and hope for
the best. view full entry here
salt storms in iowa
It accumulates in astonishing quantities. There are little piles of it
around the corners of the room and where the table legs meet the floor.
If you listen carefully, you can hear it under your feet. If you lie
on the floor and breathe deeply, you might accidentally snort some and
get a contact high. view full entry here
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