And the long wind sighs in the trees
Jun. 5th, 2006 01:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dumblemopSo my plan was to have the entry about the teaching thing, and then write an entry about what I've been doing the last couple of days, and then I think there was supposed to be another entry but I can't remember what it was supposed to be for.
So I'm just going to write for awhile because I'm a little bit distracted because I'm here and everyone else is there. So the little tidbits I am getting are getting into my head and not getting out, making me smile and laugh in complete and utter astonishment, and I want to know more. And at the same time, I don't know if I get to know more or if it's even appropriate for me to ask. Sooo I'm just going to stew just a little bit longer and try not to let my imagination get away from me. And, you know, I miss you.
I should probably go to bed soon.
I need one more problem I have in working with youth. So far I have "I have difficulty relating to small children" and "I am sometimes uncomfortable in explicit leadership roles with youth close to my own age because I am more inclined to treat them as equals instead of as a person of authority should." If I finish this application and get this job, I'll be in Washington the rest of the summer, but not until the 26th and I'll have a job and I'll get to go down for Pride. If I don't get the job, I don't know. There's the mother's helper thing at the beach which I should probably call back about because that doesn't start until July and then I can find volunteer stuff until then.
I've bookmarked a couple of bit stuff at least on the one website. One of them is knitting things for Hospice patients. Hey, at least I wouldn't be on the computer, I would be knitting, and I would be doing something useful. Somehow I think my mother would be less than pleased. There's nothing longterm but if I do a couple of things a week it should be enough. Maybe I'll volunteer at the aquarium. That would actually be kinda cool. No response from a couple of camps I looked up, but I wasn't really expecting one.
My brother had his bridging ceremony at church this morning. It was kind of nice but a little weird. I am always struck by how little middle schoolers seem. I can't remember being that...small at that age. Saw Rachael-with-an-ae, but I didn't get a chance to say hi. Yeah, I definitely had a crush on her when I was still going to youth group. Rachel-with-an-e grew up pretty damn hot, I must say. It was funny, because you don't really understand "the gap" until you're sitting in the sanctuary and the youth group has something to say--but you're not in the youth group anymore--and the parents have something to say--but you're not a parent--and the congregation has something to say--but you've never done anything the congregation proclaims.
He got a necklace. I want it. It's a silver chalice on a short silver chain. And I want it.
Speaking of necklaces, I found my "bite me" dogtags while going through my room yesterday. I cannot for the life of me remember where that particular inside joke came from, but I still remember my mother taking me aside and trying to enlighten me to the peculiarities of that phrase.
Speaking of things found while going through my room yesterday, I was going through some old New Yorkers I had in a pile in the corner. All the way back to 2002. And I was going through them to keep the articles I must have kept them for, so I could just keep the bits I wanted and get rid of the rest of the magazine, and I came upon the most perfect thing. Seriously, sometimes things happen, and I'm sure scientifically speaking they're just products of the way our brains recognize patterns, but these things I find are what make me acknowledge some kind of Fate concept. I can't explain what it is because it wouldn't make sense to anyone but the person I need to show it to and I need to show it to that person for it to make sense. And I really hope she sees it right away because I'll have been storing this up for over a week by the time I get the chance to show her.
Speaking of things I've been storing up, I suppose I'll be able to give one person what I couldn't give them at the end of the year. But really, it would have made so much more sense to do it then.
And to go back even farther, speaking of my mother, I let go of so many arguments today that I could have pursued. It's hard. It really galls to let things go when I feel that my character has been impugned. But my mother is under a lot of stress right now, and I really want to go down and see Liz, so I decided it was best to just let it go. And when I think about it, I could have argued myself out of most of my positions anyway. I was keeping track of them but the only one I can remember right now is that she accused me of not being reflective--anyone who's reading this ought to know how true that's not--but I've decided that it really doesn't matter whether she understands me because she doesn't care right now anyway. Oh, and she didn't agree with my response to the discipline question; which, upon reflection, was a little unclear. I let it go because I didn't want to waste her apparent good mood on a philosophy debate which she would just give up on anyway, but I said that I didn't remember what I had meant by my statement in order to avoid the argument. This prompted her to make one of her usual disparaging remarks about me, which I couldn't counter because its inspiration was my own fault because I'd been trying to avoid an argument in the first place. I think, in the end, my position does have merit once I dissected it a little and made it more clear (thanks, Patrick), but I've learned from watching my brother that there's no use in the slightest debating philosophy with my mother.
I found a paper I'd written for English class last year that basically said that my mother's chief bone to pick with me was how much I resembled my father. Which is funny because I hid the paper from her when she wanted to see my work from last year, but I basically said as much to her face last week. I mean, it's true.
The other problem--and I really think these are the two sources of conflict between us, now that I reflect on it--is that she still sees me as a child. John has so many more freedoms than I had at that age because she's seen him grow up. She's seen him come through his obstacles, they've been through all the therapy, and so on. But me, I've been away for four years already. When I come home, she doesn't see the changes. And when she doesn't see the changes, I start to lose them, because it is very hard to hold onto myself here. And as I start to lose them, there are fewer changes there for her to see. It's a vicious cycle.
She expects her word to be the last. And she is my mother, but I'm long past the age where she can appeal to my status as "child" and expect unquestioning obedience. "Because I'm your mother and I said so" is not enough anymore. This is the part where my brother and I are similar and neither gets along with her, because we try reason and she counters with authority. And she is our mother, so in the end, we must acquiesce, but it chafes and leaves everyone unhappy. In church today there was a section of the service where the congregation stands and sings a hymn; there usually is. I did not stand. My mother turned to me and spendt a verse trying to get me to stand up. Eventually I gave in and stood. Her reason was, "You're being very disrespectful." To me, this makes no reasonable sense. To whom does rising during the hymn show respect? To god? I can respect god standing, sitting, or lying down; my posture has nothing to do with respect for god; I'm sure god can understand and accept that. To the congregation? We're Unitarians, this congregation of all congregations should be able to respect my choice to sit instead of stand. I'm ninteen years old--I'm not sitting down out of spite, I'm not sitting down because I don't understand that I'm supposed to stand up, I'm not sitting down because I'm bored and don't want to pay attention to the service any longer. My brother talks about being a heretic during his thank you speech and gets laughter and empathy; but I cannot sit while everyone else is standing?
On the one hand, does it really matter if I sit or stand? On the other hand, if it doesn't really matter, why don't I just stand? But this seems to be the great question occupying my life at present, the question of the purpose behind the action. If I'm in CWIT, if I wanted to work at not one but two Girl Scout camps, if I occasionally wear skirts, if I'm on the women's frisbee team, if I don't fight with ResLife over living with female roommates, if I don't want hormones or surgery--why can't I take part in a program designed to teach women and girls the skills necesary to be contributing members of a Habitat for Humanity team? Because this is something my mother has suggested I do, and I have refused. What is the difference? Why do I feel sick to my stomach when I imagine doing this program--which on all other counts is entirely reasonable and commendable, for everyone but me--as a woman, but I don't feel that I have any place in being there if I reject the identification of woman, when this doesn't happen in the many other sex-typed actions and activities in which I engage? For what am I keeping this body if not to be a woman? I am essentially using Team O! because I am there so I get more playtime and more chances to improve my game to increase my participation inand contribution to the mixed team, but if I'm not a woman, I have no place there. But I am not a woman, I feel this to the pit of my stomach. Sometimes I wish I could turn myself off and just take the easy road, but I can't.
This is something I need to understand. I would like to trust my hunches in this department and not agonize over having a logical explanation, but using the phone to call strangers makes me sick to my stomach too and I know that's stupid. So what is it about this program that makes it different from everything else?
To go back to my mother because I've finished that line of thought for the moment, I think we also differ in our estimation of admirable behavior. She gets upset, for example, because at home, I eat with my elbows on the table and don't put my napkin on my lap. She thinks that because I do that at home, I'll do it other places and embarrass her. The thing is, I always do it the correct way when I'm not at home. She thinks this is ridiculous because "you should be on your best behavior with the people you live with because they are the people you live with." And this is a statement whose logic I can respect, but I think she's going about it all the wrong way.
What is a better sign of good parenting? The child does everything perfectly at home but as soon as it's out of the house it indulges in everything it is normally forbidden? Or the child doesn't always get things right at home but carries the good principles taught in the home with it to the outside world? Which is more admirable, integrity stemming from fear of punishment, or integrity stemming from personal principles even when no punishment would ever result from the lack of it? Which person lives a richer life, someone who places the utmost importance in washing their clothes regularly and brushing their teeth every night? Or someone who is loyal, loving, honest, and always has time to spare for a friend? I am inclined to believe it is the latter in every case.
Sure Mom, I don't always remember to get juice at breakfast; I don't always put my napkin in my lap; I don't wash my hair as often as you'd like--but I love my family and my friends, I would do anything to ease their suffering, I examine myself and my principles and hold to them to make sure I'm still on a path where I can respect myself at the end of the day. No Mom, I don't come out of a conversation with a friend with their address, their job prospects for the summer, where else they applied to college--I come out of conversation with a friend having had a conversation with a friend, instead of having gone numbers-fishing simply to have something to impress my mother with. It upsets me that you can't see these things but I do love you, and I know you love me, and I hate to see you tearing your life apart because you're miserable, and I'm sorry we don't see eye to eye on much, and I would do anything to ease your suffering, and that is why I'm doing my very best just to leave things best left. And the worst and best part of it is that I can never tell you any of this because you wouldn't understand. If I ever do have kids--and I might, you never know--I hope two things: first, that I don't pass on your craziness (because I have this habit called honesty lately), and second, that I am even half the parent as you were mother to me. If I can manage those two things, the kids will turn out okay. Hell, they'd probably turn out okay anyway; I'm pretty sure I did.
I'm not really sure where I'd intended to go with that originally, but these things never end up where I think they will. However, now I simply must go to bed because it's 3AM.
So I'm just going to write for awhile because I'm a little bit distracted because I'm here and everyone else is there. So the little tidbits I am getting are getting into my head and not getting out, making me smile and laugh in complete and utter astonishment, and I want to know more. And at the same time, I don't know if I get to know more or if it's even appropriate for me to ask. Sooo I'm just going to stew just a little bit longer and try not to let my imagination get away from me. And, you know, I miss you.
I should probably go to bed soon.
I need one more problem I have in working with youth. So far I have "I have difficulty relating to small children" and "I am sometimes uncomfortable in explicit leadership roles with youth close to my own age because I am more inclined to treat them as equals instead of as a person of authority should." If I finish this application and get this job, I'll be in Washington the rest of the summer, but not until the 26th and I'll have a job and I'll get to go down for Pride. If I don't get the job, I don't know. There's the mother's helper thing at the beach which I should probably call back about because that doesn't start until July and then I can find volunteer stuff until then.
I've bookmarked a couple of bit stuff at least on the one website. One of them is knitting things for Hospice patients. Hey, at least I wouldn't be on the computer, I would be knitting, and I would be doing something useful. Somehow I think my mother would be less than pleased. There's nothing longterm but if I do a couple of things a week it should be enough. Maybe I'll volunteer at the aquarium. That would actually be kinda cool. No response from a couple of camps I looked up, but I wasn't really expecting one.
My brother had his bridging ceremony at church this morning. It was kind of nice but a little weird. I am always struck by how little middle schoolers seem. I can't remember being that...small at that age. Saw Rachael-with-an-ae, but I didn't get a chance to say hi. Yeah, I definitely had a crush on her when I was still going to youth group. Rachel-with-an-e grew up pretty damn hot, I must say. It was funny, because you don't really understand "the gap" until you're sitting in the sanctuary and the youth group has something to say--but you're not in the youth group anymore--and the parents have something to say--but you're not a parent--and the congregation has something to say--but you've never done anything the congregation proclaims.
He got a necklace. I want it. It's a silver chalice on a short silver chain. And I want it.
Speaking of necklaces, I found my "bite me" dogtags while going through my room yesterday. I cannot for the life of me remember where that particular inside joke came from, but I still remember my mother taking me aside and trying to enlighten me to the peculiarities of that phrase.
Speaking of things found while going through my room yesterday, I was going through some old New Yorkers I had in a pile in the corner. All the way back to 2002. And I was going through them to keep the articles I must have kept them for, so I could just keep the bits I wanted and get rid of the rest of the magazine, and I came upon the most perfect thing. Seriously, sometimes things happen, and I'm sure scientifically speaking they're just products of the way our brains recognize patterns, but these things I find are what make me acknowledge some kind of Fate concept. I can't explain what it is because it wouldn't make sense to anyone but the person I need to show it to and I need to show it to that person for it to make sense. And I really hope she sees it right away because I'll have been storing this up for over a week by the time I get the chance to show her.
Speaking of things I've been storing up, I suppose I'll be able to give one person what I couldn't give them at the end of the year. But really, it would have made so much more sense to do it then.
And to go back even farther, speaking of my mother, I let go of so many arguments today that I could have pursued. It's hard. It really galls to let things go when I feel that my character has been impugned. But my mother is under a lot of stress right now, and I really want to go down and see Liz, so I decided it was best to just let it go. And when I think about it, I could have argued myself out of most of my positions anyway. I was keeping track of them but the only one I can remember right now is that she accused me of not being reflective--anyone who's reading this ought to know how true that's not--but I've decided that it really doesn't matter whether she understands me because she doesn't care right now anyway. Oh, and she didn't agree with my response to the discipline question; which, upon reflection, was a little unclear. I let it go because I didn't want to waste her apparent good mood on a philosophy debate which she would just give up on anyway, but I said that I didn't remember what I had meant by my statement in order to avoid the argument. This prompted her to make one of her usual disparaging remarks about me, which I couldn't counter because its inspiration was my own fault because I'd been trying to avoid an argument in the first place. I think, in the end, my position does have merit once I dissected it a little and made it more clear (thanks, Patrick), but I've learned from watching my brother that there's no use in the slightest debating philosophy with my mother.
I found a paper I'd written for English class last year that basically said that my mother's chief bone to pick with me was how much I resembled my father. Which is funny because I hid the paper from her when she wanted to see my work from last year, but I basically said as much to her face last week. I mean, it's true.
The other problem--and I really think these are the two sources of conflict between us, now that I reflect on it--is that she still sees me as a child. John has so many more freedoms than I had at that age because she's seen him grow up. She's seen him come through his obstacles, they've been through all the therapy, and so on. But me, I've been away for four years already. When I come home, she doesn't see the changes. And when she doesn't see the changes, I start to lose them, because it is very hard to hold onto myself here. And as I start to lose them, there are fewer changes there for her to see. It's a vicious cycle.
She expects her word to be the last. And she is my mother, but I'm long past the age where she can appeal to my status as "child" and expect unquestioning obedience. "Because I'm your mother and I said so" is not enough anymore. This is the part where my brother and I are similar and neither gets along with her, because we try reason and she counters with authority. And she is our mother, so in the end, we must acquiesce, but it chafes and leaves everyone unhappy. In church today there was a section of the service where the congregation stands and sings a hymn; there usually is. I did not stand. My mother turned to me and spendt a verse trying to get me to stand up. Eventually I gave in and stood. Her reason was, "You're being very disrespectful." To me, this makes no reasonable sense. To whom does rising during the hymn show respect? To god? I can respect god standing, sitting, or lying down; my posture has nothing to do with respect for god; I'm sure god can understand and accept that. To the congregation? We're Unitarians, this congregation of all congregations should be able to respect my choice to sit instead of stand. I'm ninteen years old--I'm not sitting down out of spite, I'm not sitting down because I don't understand that I'm supposed to stand up, I'm not sitting down because I'm bored and don't want to pay attention to the service any longer. My brother talks about being a heretic during his thank you speech and gets laughter and empathy; but I cannot sit while everyone else is standing?
On the one hand, does it really matter if I sit or stand? On the other hand, if it doesn't really matter, why don't I just stand? But this seems to be the great question occupying my life at present, the question of the purpose behind the action. If I'm in CWIT, if I wanted to work at not one but two Girl Scout camps, if I occasionally wear skirts, if I'm on the women's frisbee team, if I don't fight with ResLife over living with female roommates, if I don't want hormones or surgery--why can't I take part in a program designed to teach women and girls the skills necesary to be contributing members of a Habitat for Humanity team? Because this is something my mother has suggested I do, and I have refused. What is the difference? Why do I feel sick to my stomach when I imagine doing this program--which on all other counts is entirely reasonable and commendable, for everyone but me--as a woman, but I don't feel that I have any place in being there if I reject the identification of woman, when this doesn't happen in the many other sex-typed actions and activities in which I engage? For what am I keeping this body if not to be a woman? I am essentially using Team O! because I am there so I get more playtime and more chances to improve my game to increase my participation inand contribution to the mixed team, but if I'm not a woman, I have no place there. But I am not a woman, I feel this to the pit of my stomach. Sometimes I wish I could turn myself off and just take the easy road, but I can't.
This is something I need to understand. I would like to trust my hunches in this department and not agonize over having a logical explanation, but using the phone to call strangers makes me sick to my stomach too and I know that's stupid. So what is it about this program that makes it different from everything else?
To go back to my mother because I've finished that line of thought for the moment, I think we also differ in our estimation of admirable behavior. She gets upset, for example, because at home, I eat with my elbows on the table and don't put my napkin on my lap. She thinks that because I do that at home, I'll do it other places and embarrass her. The thing is, I always do it the correct way when I'm not at home. She thinks this is ridiculous because "you should be on your best behavior with the people you live with because they are the people you live with." And this is a statement whose logic I can respect, but I think she's going about it all the wrong way.
What is a better sign of good parenting? The child does everything perfectly at home but as soon as it's out of the house it indulges in everything it is normally forbidden? Or the child doesn't always get things right at home but carries the good principles taught in the home with it to the outside world? Which is more admirable, integrity stemming from fear of punishment, or integrity stemming from personal principles even when no punishment would ever result from the lack of it? Which person lives a richer life, someone who places the utmost importance in washing their clothes regularly and brushing their teeth every night? Or someone who is loyal, loving, honest, and always has time to spare for a friend? I am inclined to believe it is the latter in every case.
Sure Mom, I don't always remember to get juice at breakfast; I don't always put my napkin in my lap; I don't wash my hair as often as you'd like--but I love my family and my friends, I would do anything to ease their suffering, I examine myself and my principles and hold to them to make sure I'm still on a path where I can respect myself at the end of the day. No Mom, I don't come out of a conversation with a friend with their address, their job prospects for the summer, where else they applied to college--I come out of conversation with a friend having had a conversation with a friend, instead of having gone numbers-fishing simply to have something to impress my mother with. It upsets me that you can't see these things but I do love you, and I know you love me, and I hate to see you tearing your life apart because you're miserable, and I'm sorry we don't see eye to eye on much, and I would do anything to ease your suffering, and that is why I'm doing my very best just to leave things best left. And the worst and best part of it is that I can never tell you any of this because you wouldn't understand. If I ever do have kids--and I might, you never know--I hope two things: first, that I don't pass on your craziness (because I have this habit called honesty lately), and second, that I am even half the parent as you were mother to me. If I can manage those two things, the kids will turn out okay. Hell, they'd probably turn out okay anyway; I'm pretty sure I did.
I'm not really sure where I'd intended to go with that originally, but these things never end up where I think they will. However, now I simply must go to bed because it's 3AM.
