What Friends Are For
Just a quick note to say thanks to all my blog friends; their names are mostly in the margin at right and my handful of loyal readers know who they are! Great minds and hearts, all.
I'm in blog limbo again. I haven't had time to work on my posts much or even to post much, and I'm afraid I'm getting too English teacher specific. It seems that all I've been doing the last couple of months is read for my Am. Lit. class (and yeah, it's kinda gross that I'm teaching the course and am reading some of the content for the first time, but hey, I do my best and it's only 27 bucks a unit). Since all I'm doing is reading and grading papers, up here I talk about books, mostly.
I haven't been in many of my friend's blogs but I'm trying to catch up.
Thanks, Scott for telling me to turn on that funky letter looking verification thing; suddenly I see that everywhere and I was wondering where to get the code. It was just a radio button; thanks Scooter, and rock on while you're at it.
Things are not easy right now in my life. Coming out of ocd, in some ways, is like stopping drinking. I hate to use that analogy, but I believe, sadly, there is some truth to it. My obsessions are down, oh, 90 plus percent from doing exposure therapy, but now my marriage and family are adjusting, or trying, to the new me; the me I hid, in some ways, from all of us. Plus my truly wonderful son is 13. Thirteen. Parents, you will remember that age if you don't already. Then work BS. And the recent deaths I mentioned in my last post.
One death I didn't tell you about: once a year or so I look up my ex in-laws; Estella, my ex-wife, is not on the web, period, but you know how that is...looking up exes, hoping above all hope to find a really hideous picture. What I did find is that my ex father-in-law, a man I knew fairly well for nearly a decade, is dead. He died this spring. He would have been mid 60's I'm sure. I don't know how, but the picture of him looked exactly as when I knew him. It's sad, really, that he's gone even though I haven't seen him in, oh, 13 years or so.
Regarding blog: I want to keep telling my story up here, do a good while while I'm at it, but the time has not presented itself. Even now, my fingers are flying over the keys. Yuch. The writing feels so good I'd like to savor it.
***
I have gotten away three weekends for sailing classes in Santa Cruz this fall, and each weekend has been wonderful. I also got one blustery day on the Bay with my skipper and his regular crew. There was lightning in the distance, some solid wind and rainbursts...it was great for me to face my fears, actually.
Plus, skippers are just a necessary parts of the cosmos. I show up to sail with him, now with four days of official instruction under my belt, thinking I'm pretty hip; new sneaker-topsiders, sailing gloves and even bright yellow raingear I got from westmarine with my mom's birthday money check.
I meet him in the office of the sailing club and give him the firm, confident handshake of someone with four days of training...
'Hey, skipper.'
'Swab.'
He smiled when he said it, but there it was. At the end of the day he suggested I wipe out the rusty sink in the Catalina 36 with my new raingear so I'd look like a real sailor.
Still, he was very helpful that day, letting me sail in some fairly heavy wind and teaching me moment to moment. James is more than alright. He's Tibetan Buddhist, a recovered alcoholic, and hilarious. Without him I would never have taken up sailing, probably.
It's great to speak with you all, even briefly. Every soul in the margin is in my heart.
I'm in blog limbo again. I haven't had time to work on my posts much or even to post much, and I'm afraid I'm getting too English teacher specific. It seems that all I've been doing the last couple of months is read for my Am. Lit. class (and yeah, it's kinda gross that I'm teaching the course and am reading some of the content for the first time, but hey, I do my best and it's only 27 bucks a unit). Since all I'm doing is reading and grading papers, up here I talk about books, mostly.
I haven't been in many of my friend's blogs but I'm trying to catch up.
Thanks, Scott for telling me to turn on that funky letter looking verification thing; suddenly I see that everywhere and I was wondering where to get the code. It was just a radio button; thanks Scooter, and rock on while you're at it.
Things are not easy right now in my life. Coming out of ocd, in some ways, is like stopping drinking. I hate to use that analogy, but I believe, sadly, there is some truth to it. My obsessions are down, oh, 90 plus percent from doing exposure therapy, but now my marriage and family are adjusting, or trying, to the new me; the me I hid, in some ways, from all of us. Plus my truly wonderful son is 13. Thirteen. Parents, you will remember that age if you don't already. Then work BS. And the recent deaths I mentioned in my last post.
One death I didn't tell you about: once a year or so I look up my ex in-laws; Estella, my ex-wife, is not on the web, period, but you know how that is...looking up exes, hoping above all hope to find a really hideous picture. What I did find is that my ex father-in-law, a man I knew fairly well for nearly a decade, is dead. He died this spring. He would have been mid 60's I'm sure. I don't know how, but the picture of him looked exactly as when I knew him. It's sad, really, that he's gone even though I haven't seen him in, oh, 13 years or so.
Regarding blog: I want to keep telling my story up here, do a good while while I'm at it, but the time has not presented itself. Even now, my fingers are flying over the keys. Yuch. The writing feels so good I'd like to savor it.
***
I have gotten away three weekends for sailing classes in Santa Cruz this fall, and each weekend has been wonderful. I also got one blustery day on the Bay with my skipper and his regular crew. There was lightning in the distance, some solid wind and rainbursts...it was great for me to face my fears, actually.
Plus, skippers are just a necessary parts of the cosmos. I show up to sail with him, now with four days of official instruction under my belt, thinking I'm pretty hip; new sneaker-topsiders, sailing gloves and even bright yellow raingear I got from westmarine with my mom's birthday money check.
I meet him in the office of the sailing club and give him the firm, confident handshake of someone with four days of training...
'Hey, skipper.'
'Swab.'
He smiled when he said it, but there it was. At the end of the day he suggested I wipe out the rusty sink in the Catalina 36 with my new raingear so I'd look like a real sailor.
Still, he was very helpful that day, letting me sail in some fairly heavy wind and teaching me moment to moment. James is more than alright. He's Tibetan Buddhist, a recovered alcoholic, and hilarious. Without him I would never have taken up sailing, probably.
It's great to speak with you all, even briefly. Every soul in the margin is in my heart.
Comments
It is always good to hear your voice. I share your frustration with falling behind in the blogosphere. Teaching this AP class has really been like teaching for the first time all over again. The content is rich, deep, and complex, and my students are struggling. So I've got to make a freshman college history class accessible to 15 year olds. I'm over extended.
Anyway, can't wait to hear more about the sailing. My prayers for you and S and your whole family. Be well, friend.
We'll take you and your voice any way we can get you... frequently, infrequently, about yourself, your life, your work, books, books, books. It's all good. :) Your swabbie story cracked me up, there at the end. Peace.
But with Funkiller, I'm buried in the teacher world this semester. It's so great to be heard as a friend as mrsfish says, and not a writer or some other thing.
Thanks again.
t