I'm not a happy camper

I'm not even a camper.

Once upon a time I tried to be a camper.  I camped with my college boyfriend.  I camped with all my Pagan friends on and off for years, thinking I could become one with Mother Earth by sleeping on shitty inflatable mattresses and sitting around a campfire.

I even attended an earth based religion festival for several days with some good friends, and on another occasion I spent the night at a farm/campground dedicated to the treehugger/Goddess worship crowd.

I have never slept through the night when I have gone camping.  Even with prescription drugs to help me.

What I have managed to do is get too cold, bitten by bugs, develop horrible headaches for sleeping on an incline, struggle to function on sleep deprivation, and cry because I wanted to go the fuck home.

I used to feel bad that I wasn't tough or in touch with the earth enough to love camping.

Then I met a friend who declared that for her, roughing it meant no room service.

Although I will not concede to that just yet, I do find that a good night's sleep is a sacred thing- more sacred than sitting around a fire, listening to a drumming circle all night long, or peeing in the woods or in a cold state park toilet.


Roughing it for me has been staying in hostels in Ireland and the UK with no wifi.

Roughing it has been drinking coffee that tastes like ass, forgoing pretzels in a country that only has them at Christmas, and trying to understand why a culture than can make bread and chocolate so well that I cry cannot make a goddamn soup without pureeing all the ingredients until it is the consistency and color of baby food.


In these circumstances, the payoff has been seeing the sunlight play in and out of the clouds over Connemara, touch standing stones older than the pyramids, and finding the place where I want my ashes strewn when I die.


It has not in any way involved bugs- except for midges and they don't really do much damage. 

So when I read okc profiles that extoll the virtues of rock climbing and camping like it is the most wonderful thing on earth, I can confidently call bullshit and know I am not a lesser person for it.  I can revel in the feel of my down comforter and cozy bed knowing I am in no way less connected because I didn't suffer a squat in the leaves.

I've squatted plenty on the sides of roads winding through the Scottish and Irish countryside after drinking too much tea and finding no gas stations. 

I've managed to commune with nature and the earth in those two minute stops as I gazed upon Loch Awe, Highland cows, grazing sheep, rocky outcrops, waterfalls, and even a hedgehog. 

So happy campers, go ahead and wrap yourself in the smug satisfaction of knowing you enjoy "roughing it" in some state park five miles from the nearest Pizza Hut.

I will savor the quiet moments among the heather and along the Atlantic coast with as much fondness and joy.

...and less bug bites.

Mandatory Fun

A guy I used to date worked in IT for a big corporation and he called the stupid team building activities and other social events related to work as Mandatory Fun.

In light of the events in the football world, I'm beginning to think we are experiencing a similar situation at school.  Purple Friday is a big deal at both of my schools.  So big that if a child has the audacity to wear another team's jersey, he or she gets teased, yelled at, and verbally abused by classmates.

Recently, a letter went home to families in a city school (not my school system) that children who did not wear purple on Friday would not be allowed to attend the pep rally.  Instead, they'd be put in the library.

As a book nerd who thinks spectator sports are stupid, I could think of no other place I'd rather be than in the library during a pep rally.

But what about the kid who has parents too busy/overwhelmed/forgetful/intoxicated/high to read letters sent home and ensure their child is dressed in the approved attire?

What about the kids from out of state who have a family that (gasp) support another sports team?

And when did public school become a place where administrators can impose a certain color to wear to an assembly?

I went to Catholic school where we had a uniform and certain rules governing its wear and use.  That was understood- and as we all got older, we did everything we could to edge around the rules as much as possible- and were reined back in through demerits.

But these are children ages 4-11 in a publicly funded school.  Their primary goal in school is to learn to think a little (but not enough to start questioning the system) and do well on tests so the school looks good and their parents can brag about it with a sticker on their vehicles.  It isn't a place where kids are supposed to be ostracized, teased, bullied, insulted, and denied access to extracurricular activities based on the color of their shirt.

With all the money and time spent on the anti-bullying rhetoric in public schools, (and believe me, it is rhetoric on my one school since the administrator is a bully) to then make such an exclusionary rule is to pretty much undo all those posters they had the kids make saying "Don't be a bully!" and

"It's okay to be different."

We all know that in the world of school, it isn't.

The Red Cross is stalking me

I am ashamed to admit that I never gave blood until a few years ago.  One of my schools had a memorial blood drive for a deceased staff member and after years of fearing I'd pass out, throw up, or flip out, I finally decided to see if my blood was fit for donation.  I was happy to know that not only could I donate blood, but I had a type that was in demand. 

Little did I realize that once I made the donor list, I'd be called as soon as my minimum number of days were up.

And called.

And called.

And called.

When I realized that the "unknown" on my phone was almost always the Red Cross, I began to ignore the call which only made them worse.  They almost never left a message until they got desperate.  Then I'd get a recorded plea.  If that didn't work, I'd start getting things in the mail.

Eventually, I expected to see the Bloodmobile slowly drive back and forth in front of my apartment- only to take off with squealing wheels when I stepped outside. 

I finally answered when they called this time to tell them that I am sick and I'm currently unable to donate blood right this minute.  I also told them to please stop calling me constantly or I would stop donating.  The caller swore up and down that no one had called since November and that several calls could possibly come in that were marked as "unknown." 

I beg to differ.

I like giving blood.  I like knowing I help someone and I plan on giving again.  However, I just don't want to be hounded every 60 days as if I've defaulted on my car payments.

Taken for granted

I forgot that the water would be shut off today when I used my bathroom.  I found that flushing my toilet was not really an option.  I attempted to fill some buckets up with the pitiful stream coming from the tap, but eventually I had to go across the street to another unit's laundry room and use the utility sink.  This was even less fun since I'm feeling under the weather (hence being home on a weekday) and the 25mph winds.

I'd probably survive about 15 minutes in a 3rd world country.

I am not a trained professional

Occasionally I get people who latch onto me in real life or online who seem to think I am a therapist. 
While I am more than willing to give support to my friends, family,  neighbors, and coworkers,  I'm not too keen on becoming someone's little helper if I really do not know the person.  I'm not saying I won't be empathetic.  I think part of my problem sometimes is that I can feel too much of what others are feeling.  However, this usually applies to someone with whom I have some kind of relationship. 

I have friends from okc that I've never met but feel like I know.  There are several that I talk to about very personal things and I'm perfectly at ease with this.  However, when someone I've only talked to online for less than a week begins to discuss his relationship problems with me and then proceeds to reveal some very personal information with me after we've met on a dating site, I get a bit wary.

I can identify with some of what this person is going through.  I can understand feeling lonely, afraid that being single will be forever, and feeling like he will never feel what he felt with a previous love- I get all that.  I really do.  But I am not here to fix that.  I can tell him that everyone feels that, I can assure him that it passes, and I can suggest some things that may help with personal issues (such as the right therapist and meds), but in the end I am not here to fix anyone.  I'm not here to make anyone feel less desperately lonely.  Quite frankly, if that is how one is feeling, then dating may not be an option at the moment.

I initially joined okc pretty much feeling just that.  My heart was broken, my self esteem was pretty awful, and I more or less felt like I was made of glass inside.  I was not girlfriend material.  I was not even fit to meet anyone for a cup of coffee.  I was a hot mess and made some pretty bad decisions as a result.

In time things got better.  I began liking myself again, I found joy and contentment in my life just as it was, and I eventually had a stable and functional relationship for almost a year.  Although it ended, I don't view it as a failure.  I learned that I am in good working order and I'm capable of something I wasn't sure I was anymore and I view that as a very good thing.

Still...

I don't have any great words of wisdom for you.  I can't make it all better.  That isn't my job, your mom's job, your friends' job, or anyone's.  It's yours.



You.
 

hall of dead guys

My one principal is really into leadership and Einstein.  Since Steve Jobs died, he's been into him too.  I think he fancies himself as some kind of visionary who is transforming education through being an insufferable tool.. and marrying his student teacher (she better watch herself because she's getting a bit long in the tooth and he likes them young). 

Anyway, he's begun to put framed pictures/quotes of Einstein, Jobs, Lincoln , MLK, and Kennedy in the hallway.  I've named it the Hall of Dead Guys. 

There are no women up on the wall. Maybe there are no women in leadership roles who are hot or thin enough for him. 

I decided to turn my cramped classroom (I share it with 2-4 other staff and 14 students throughout the week) into my own little gallery of leaders.  I cut and pasted pictures and quotes of Rosa Parks, Amelia Earhart, An San Suu Kyi, and Madam Curie into little posters and stuck them up near the door.  Of course this is the day The Walking Tool decided to come into the room.  He didn't comment.  I'm thinking of adding Frida Kohlo and Madeline Albright. 

Maybe no one will read them or bother to look them up.  But I know who they are and why I put them there, and knowing that will be a small comfort as I walk past all the dead guys every day.