"Sit down and shut up" annoys me when dangling from a rearview mirror in air-freshener form, or on bumper stickers and keychains, or even emblazoned across seat-covers (yes, I've seen it). In fact, I cannot fathom an instance in which I would even use this expression, except when I'm on a plane. I ensure a fully charged iPod battery and fresh and engaging book for flights, ESPECIALLY the early morning ones I tend to end up on because they're cheaper.
It's not that I'm opposed to talking to strangers. I will chat with the Trader Joe's check-out person, with someone waiting to cross the street, salespeople in stores or kiosks, and little "how-ya-doin" questions to customer service people on the unending phone calls I've been making lately. I just don't like talking on PLANES. Think about it. You're stuck. Say you do strike up conversation, and then it gets boring or you run out of things to say or you really are tired since it is actually 6 AM and you've got to be nice to people later so you should probably take this time to snooze. And if you do stop talking to the person, they have to wonder which of the above is true of their conversational abilities, which can never be a good feeling. No really, take my headphones and book and sinister stare for what they are: please don't talk to me.
A couple of weekends ago on my trip to Denver, I had four flights, and four talkers. Well, I'm not sure if one was ordinarily a talker, but we'll get to that. I got to know a bit about each person, snapshots of their lives, and it was interesting, but again with the early flights and the running out of things to talk about. It's not that the people themselves are terribly uninteresting, it's just my whole thing with talking on planes. But, for the first time ever, I sat next to someone I wanted to keep talking to.
And actually, we didn't STOP talking until we parted ways; he to baggage claim and I to my connecting flight. It was the greatest non-first-date ever. He is about my age, and living near where I did my student teaching so we had geography as a starting common ground. We chatted about siblings, friends and roommates' weddings, schools, snow and water sports, traveling...and less than 20 minutes into the conversation, I'd already mentally mapped out our entire future together. But the terrible, tragic timing of it all! Drat that leaving for the Peace Corps! I kept thinking about the situation with frustration and a sinking feeling of uncertainty the whole rest of the day. I felt like I had met someone I could really be interested in, but the timing was way off. What was the point? I could have napped. I even had a few mad moments of plotting out ways to contact him, such as posting in the Craig's List "MIssed Connections" section (secret single behavior revelation...I read those!), or I could get in contact with him at school, or something. I mean, every bit of Hollywood screams "Go for it!" timing or no timing, right?
I didn't try to contact him. Besides it being a bit stalker-ish, I've just got my heart so set on Ukraine, that I wouldn't even want to try to see what happened. But it was still disappointing.
Driving in Orange tonight, past familiar places where I graded papers or did my lesson planning, I got to thinking about it again. Maybe the point of a "missed connection" because of bad timing is simply to remind us that the possibility is out there. Almost a one-in-four chance, especially if you rate my last string of dates! It's frustrating to not have what we want when we want it, especially when it's right there in the aisle seat, but though we can't have it, it's strangely comforting to know it's there. And one day, the timing will be right and the one-in-four will pop up again like those Bingo balls in the spinner. In the meantime, there are dreams to pursue, life to live and people to love. And planes to catch.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Adventures in kid-speak
School starts in a week and a half, which means crazy crunch time for teachers. If I'm not helping Jill reorganize the chaos that is her new classroom, I'm at her house watching her girls. But more than watching them, I really like LISTENING to them! Seriously, the way their minds work cracks me up. Here are a few treasured moments:
To start, a dialogue at lunch the other day beginning with: "When I get big...
I'm going to go to Disneyland by myself"
I'm going to cross the street without a grown-up"
I'm going to drive the car"
I'm going to go to K-Mark (yes, with a K) by myself"
I'm going to talk in Spanish"
I'm going to be 40 pounds!"
They're obsessed with being 40 pounds, because when they are, they can ride in the booster seats instead of the car seats. So another funny dialogue was
"I'm going to be 40 pounds and then that's it."
Me: "Aren't you going to grow more?"
"No, just 40 pounds and then I'm going to be done."
Me: "Do you think grown-ups weigh more than 40 pounds?"
"YOU do! You're really big. But I'm not going to be that big I'm just going to be 40 pounds."
"Sarah, you were born in a sleeping bag!"
And my all-time fav kid-speak comment:
"We're getting Barbie boobies for Christmas!" (She meant "movies," of course, but darn that alliteration!)
To start, a dialogue at lunch the other day beginning with: "When I get big...
I'm going to go to Disneyland by myself"
I'm going to cross the street without a grown-up"
I'm going to drive the car"
I'm going to go to K-Mark (yes, with a K) by myself"
I'm going to talk in Spanish"
I'm going to be 40 pounds!"
They're obsessed with being 40 pounds, because when they are, they can ride in the booster seats instead of the car seats. So another funny dialogue was
"I'm going to be 40 pounds and then that's it."
Me: "Aren't you going to grow more?"
"No, just 40 pounds and then I'm going to be done."
Me: "Do you think grown-ups weigh more than 40 pounds?"
"YOU do! You're really big. But I'm not going to be that big I'm just going to be 40 pounds."
"Sarah, you were born in a sleeping bag!"
And my all-time fav kid-speak comment:
"We're getting Barbie boobies for Christmas!" (She meant "movies," of course, but darn that alliteration!)
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
wake up call the day
It is now 7:45 am and I've been awake for a little over an hour. Kelly's taking her MCAT this morning, and since we both have this spectacular propensity to oversleep, I decided to be her back-up alarm just in case. She didn't need me after all, but I couldn't get back to sleep, which is almost more uncommon than how often I OVERsleep. My thoughts were overpoweringly busy; I must have received some of Kelly's test-day jitters by osmosis. So I decided to take a walk.
Now, the last time I was awake before 7 am was probably to mentally shout obscenities at the never-ending re-model project next door. Getting myself out the door by 7 am usually means it probably took a good 20 minutes too long to get out of bed and that I mechanically performed the bare minimum of tasks to look presentable. Then I look at the time, realize I'm going to be late, and the race begins. I dump some coffee into a travel mug, leave, realize I forgot something important (like my keys), go back in, find the forgotten item, and then really leave. The ride to wherever I'm going is usually focused, but only because my mind isn't working well enough for me to think about much else.
I've always marveled at that species of people called "morning people," who will deliberately get up earlier than they have to enjoy the morning's cool, its quiet, and their optional solitude. I am not a morning person.
Except that today, I AM one of those people. I got up, changed clothes, and headed out to see who and what the morning in Belmont Shore looked like. Can I just say, "beautiful." People were doing their thing...walking dogs, walking themselves, buying lattes. Few were dressed for work, but most people were in athletic gear. Women were in pairs or small groups, turned to each other and focusing on their friends' hearts. Men were reading papers or chatting with passersby. As a member of this club, I played the part and got in line for my own latte in my semi-athletic wear. I chatted with the baristas who were discussing marathons (glad I know something about those!) and stepped back out into the morning. This is when it gets good.
I live by the beach. Wait, let me rephrase that. I live at the beach. There is the "big" beach, the one that faces open ocean, and there is the "pretty" beach, which is more of an inlet. I walked down the "pretty" beach, latte in hand, breathing the morning. And the sea. The sea was still and reflective, and it would have looked like glass except the faintest heartbeat just stirring the surface made it alive. A mirror can only show what it sees, but the water was its own entity; part of what surrounded it and mostly all itself. And below the cool salt-taste, a world.
Kind of like people, except the salt part. We can be still and reflect what's around us, but there is always that heartbeat of individuality and depths no one can see, but can only learn over time. And part of what we reflect is what made us into what we are. If the sea did not have boundaries, its comparison would be useless because there would only be sea and no land. If we were not shaped by countless tiny experiences, we wouldn't be our own entities, mingling with each other as we walk our dogs and sip our lattes. I think that's worth waking up for. And it's beautiful.
Now, the last time I was awake before 7 am was probably to mentally shout obscenities at the never-ending re-model project next door. Getting myself out the door by 7 am usually means it probably took a good 20 minutes too long to get out of bed and that I mechanically performed the bare minimum of tasks to look presentable. Then I look at the time, realize I'm going to be late, and the race begins. I dump some coffee into a travel mug, leave, realize I forgot something important (like my keys), go back in, find the forgotten item, and then really leave. The ride to wherever I'm going is usually focused, but only because my mind isn't working well enough for me to think about much else.
I've always marveled at that species of people called "morning people," who will deliberately get up earlier than they have to enjoy the morning's cool, its quiet, and their optional solitude. I am not a morning person.
Except that today, I AM one of those people. I got up, changed clothes, and headed out to see who and what the morning in Belmont Shore looked like. Can I just say, "beautiful." People were doing their thing...walking dogs, walking themselves, buying lattes. Few were dressed for work, but most people were in athletic gear. Women were in pairs or small groups, turned to each other and focusing on their friends' hearts. Men were reading papers or chatting with passersby. As a member of this club, I played the part and got in line for my own latte in my semi-athletic wear. I chatted with the baristas who were discussing marathons (glad I know something about those!) and stepped back out into the morning. This is when it gets good.
I live by the beach. Wait, let me rephrase that. I live at the beach. There is the "big" beach, the one that faces open ocean, and there is the "pretty" beach, which is more of an inlet. I walked down the "pretty" beach, latte in hand, breathing the morning. And the sea. The sea was still and reflective, and it would have looked like glass except the faintest heartbeat just stirring the surface made it alive. A mirror can only show what it sees, but the water was its own entity; part of what surrounded it and mostly all itself. And below the cool salt-taste, a world.
Kind of like people, except the salt part. We can be still and reflect what's around us, but there is always that heartbeat of individuality and depths no one can see, but can only learn over time. And part of what we reflect is what made us into what we are. If the sea did not have boundaries, its comparison would be useless because there would only be sea and no land. If we were not shaped by countless tiny experiences, we wouldn't be our own entities, mingling with each other as we walk our dogs and sip our lattes. I think that's worth waking up for. And it's beautiful.
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