21 Years

I'm writing this post from my brand new iPhone, my birthday gift. Now that my 27th birthday has come and gone, however, I must take note of a much more important gift. 21 years ago, my mother and her boyfriend walked into a mall in Nice, France, and they stopped in a shop that sold toys. After looking over the wide selection of stuffed animals, they settled on a small black panther with bright green eyes. They delivered him to an extatic 6 year old, who named him Moonlight, because his eyes seemed to glow in the light of the moon at night.

21 years later, he still has some of his original silky hair under his legs and in his ears, but the rest of him bears the marks of 21 years of love. He only has two wiskers left, and there are a couple of little bare spots here and there, but he is in great shape and his eyes still glow in the light of the moon. He's been to every country, every state, every place I've ever been, even out to sea.

I'm sure people think I'm nuts for the devotion I show this little kitty, considering that he's a stuffed animal, but I've never thought of him as anything less than real, anything less than the best, most loving friend I have. So here is a very Happy 21st Birthday to my Moonlight.

depths

I don't know why I think about these things, but sometimes random contemplation comes to me in random places. I was thinking about how some people are really shallow, transparent, and others are really deep. I eventually decided that people are like the ocean.

Some people are like the Keys. Some are murky from the wave action churning up the sand till you can hardly see anything and there isn't much to them. Others are clear and bright and you can see long distances underwater. They are colorful and full of life, just like the reefs you find in the Keys.

Others are like the deep ocean. Their personalities may stay near the surface, where the light filters in, or they are very dark and unfathomable as they go deeper. Where the ocean looses all light is a forbidding, pitiless place, where life must struggle to survive.

I think I'm like the part of the ocean where the continent drops away into the abyss. I can see long distances around me, and there is a lot of life and color there, on the continental shelf. There is also darkness, if only I step off the edge. But I choose to stay near the surface, loving the light and color and life that flourishes there.

Cheers!

The Things My Hands Do...

This is the final outcome of a very long running project. I was shocked when I saw it for the first time, in stone... I've been staring at it for weeks in clay on a piece of plywood.

amazing

This morning my iPod woke me with some Led Zeppelin, and as I rolled over and turned the light on, I realized what day it was. It was the first day of living in a country with an African-American President. All I could think of was that black and white photo that Charles Gibson showed on tv last night, of Mr. Obama with the simple caption of "Mr. President."

I can't explain the feelings that I've had all day. I have no words to describe them properly. Pride? Confidence? Feeling good to be an American (for once)? Its a little of everything, but much much more.

When this whole race began, years ago, I didn't know what to think. I carefully ignored all of the useless retoric tossed around since the primaries, and tried not to take too seriously the negative ads on both sides. I was disdainful of the masses that followed Obama. And I really liked McCain. I did. I wanted to vote for him. But I wasn't going to make up my mind till I saw the debates.

The debates changed my mind. That and Palin. I like her, but not as VP. She's too green, too unknown. And McCain's attitude during the debates...I found myself getting more and more frustrated watching him. I've spent 8 years being frustrated and disgusted with the Shrub, and I didn't want to spend another 4, maybe 8, feeling that way again.

Throughout the race, I have only been following it online and on the radio, so as the months passed, I found myself completely forgetting the color issue. But when I turned on the tv last night to watch the results coming in, I slowly realized that we were about to see the impossible dream come true. When Mr. Gibson said in a slightly unsteady voice that Barack Obama was the 44th President of the United States, I felt my heart jump. (I want to stress that I am not an ObamaManiac.) But at that moment I felt prouder of my country than I ever have, prouder of the people who decided to give him a chance.

The proof of last night's success was at school this morning. That every single 6th grade class I entered today cheered for our new President was proof of the awesomeness of the day. And the beaming faces of every single one of our African-American students, among all of the excited students all over campus, made me feel like the day couldn't get any better.

Welcome to the New World.

Crap. (otherwise known as poo, shyte, refuse, etc.)

I screwed up. I'm writing this down to get it off my chest, because I'm not sleeping well at night now.

You know that feeling? when you've done bad, and pushed it away, and it won't leave you alone, and it sneaks up on you when you're not ready for it....that feeling when your heart pounds uncomfortably fast, regardless of the amount of coffee you've injested recently?

This is one thing I hate about doing commercial art. Sometimes I get hung up over something and I put it off and put it off...and then it turns around and bites me very hard in the butt. I've got 4 and a half projects due for the studio. I'm at least 2 weeks, maybe three behind (another of my problems is loosing track of time...).

Friday the foreman called. Today the boss called. I haven't listened to either message. I have some idea of what they have to say, but I don't want to listen. I'm having a hard enough time sleeping as it is, and if I listen to the messages, then I have no choice but to call them back. What do I tell them? I'm tired of making excuses. I'm just behind. Uninspired. Unmotivated.

This little voice in the back of my head says "maybe if they paid me in advance..." But that's just another excuse. And if I were behind it would be even worse for me.

I hate this feeling. I hate it when I get myself into these situations. I feel responsible. I feel like I have totally failed everyone. I know that if I take a step back and look around, this is nothing. This is not the end of the world, and ultimately teaching is more important to me anyway. But I still feel like a failure. I have people relying on me to get something done, and if I can't get it done, than what am I to everyone else?

*Sigh*....I thought writing all this down would make me feel better, but it hasn't. So, I think I'll just go to bed, and try to sleep.

Ta.

"I used to sit and watch the pouring rain..."

Off and on for the last few weeks, a very troubling thought would randomly pop into my mind. I missed the rain. I've lived half my life in places where it rained almost every day like clockwork. Since moving out to California, however, the number of days it has rained while I've lived here wouldn't fill a year. That's what I get for living in a sub-saharan climate.

The lack of rain has really bothered me recently. I've been trying to remember the last time it really rained down here. I figured it out today. I think it was right after the Witch Creek Fire last October, when Pendleton burned all the way to the 5 freeway. A week or two after the firefighters got that fire under control, it rained for a day or two. Maybe more, I can't remember. But once the ash soaked into the ground, and after a few weeks of sunshine, Pendleton was once more covered in green.

The subject of rain came up last night too. I was describing how much I missed thick, heavy drops of rain splatting on the ground. I missed a good solid day of heavy rain, the kind that soaks everything. The kind that stays in the ground for days, and when you look around, you can see all the plants looking greener and perkier for all the water their roots are sucking up.

So, you can imagine my astonishment when I arrived at the architecture studio this morning, and saw first one, then two, then several drops hitting my windshield. The sun was coming up spectacularily over the hills, and there were large scattered towers of clouds all over the sky. You could see the rain in some of them. Not dark with menace, just heavy with potential. And as the towers swept across the morning sky, there were rumbles of thunder, and sweeps of beautiful, heavy rain coming down.

By afternoon the traces of rain were almost gone, but you can still see puddles here and there. And as the rain came down this morning, and I stood in it, letting it soak my hair and my shoulders, I just had to thank God for hearing our wishes, and today making mine come true.

Cheers!

students

As I sit here, watching seventh graders messing around, pretending to do the assignment I gave them, I can't help at wonder what some of them will be like in a few years. Some of the 7th and 8th graders I meet are very tall, getting their adult growth in. When they go off to High School, they have a semblance of adulthood. Others can look forward to looking young and out of place when they reach the 9th grade.

But that's not entirely what I mean when I wonder what they will be like. A handful of students that I have met in these grades have very mature senses of humor. Others are very good at imitating the adults in their lives. You can almost predict what their parents are like from the way they act.

After teaching for a couple of years, I can see the way people probably were when they were in these grades. The ones who changed the most, usually the introverts who develop into mild extroverts are most often the ones worth knowing. However, every personality, every character has its own charm, and as I look around me and see the way these kids express themselves, I dearly wish that I could see into their futures. I wish I could see what they will become.