on nostalgia and dreams

Last night, in my dreams, a dozen high school crushes and mistakes visited me. It was a sad dream, full of nostalgia and hurt.

I remember sitting in the snow, wearing a sleeveless sundress. Scanning faces, looking for the one that was “mine,” because I knew I had someone amongst the crowd. The confusion of finding no one. The hurt of being alone again, feeling left out, like I did so often in high school.

I seldom feel nostalgic about high school. It was four years of questing for I didn’t know what, four years of thinking I knew myself so well when, in fact, I knew so little about me, for years of feeling insecure and inadequate. And I’m usually pretty good about letting go of past mistakes. Forgiving myself for my ignorance and naivety. But dreams have that special power over you; the very real-ness of them makes those lingering feelings hard to shake in the morning. Like a suspended ball of lead in your chest, you just have to wait it out, remembering all the while that life is better now, life is oh so much better now.

on snow

Woke up this morning to even.more.snow.

It’s so bizarre to me. I’ve seen more snow in one month in Nebraska than I was used to seeing in an entire winter in Missouri.

I feel so conflicted about it all, too. I’ve always really really liked snow. It’s hard not to appreciate the softness it lends to the landscape, the way it glints in the sunlight. Many happy child memories of bundling up in puffy pink coveralls and sliding down the small hill in front of our house with my sisters.

But it’s so cold here. Which makes snow not much fun. I mean, I’d be happy to go tramping through the fluff (okay–through carved paths in the fluff; really not interested in sludging through snow up to my kneecaps) if I thought I wouldn’t be miserable after about three minutes. Even the best bundling won’t protect you from 0°.

on another new year

I always feel a little conflicted about New Year’s Day. As a lover of planning and organizing, it seems natural to want to seize the newness of it all–the opportunity to start again fresh and squeaky clean. But, as a realist and maybe something of a cynicist, something about it feels forced. Like just because we swapped out calendars and a few numbers, we’re supposed to be new people. Born again without our weaknesses,  flaws, and secret vices.

I’m not really into resolutions. I feel like I’m constantly forming them for myself throughout the year, and even then I hardly ever follow through on them. So superimposing them on top of some artificial sense of newness seems more problematic than helpful.

I don’t mean to be all grumpy about the new year. All the possibilities of January 1 do excite me. Last year was the year of the wedding, the honeymoon, the big move, the start of grad school. I’m not sure what this year will be known for. I guess all I’m really hoping for out of 2010 is a year of contentment and balance. It sounds simple enough. But then again, these types of things always do.

on fitness and waiting

I’m doing two things right now: waiting for a yoga video to download and waiting for an email from Shape.com to arrive.

The yoga video is from Yoga Today. I do these whenever I remember/want to. I’m trying to remember/want to more often. Mainly because I feel like such a weakling. I can remember a time when I was strong and tone and it was nice–not just looking strong and tone, but the feeling of strength and stability it provided. Not to mention, just knowing I was healthy and taking care of my body. Plus, I love yoga. Why I love yoga is a-whole-nother post (maybe, like, 6 other posts).

The Shape.com email is about my shiny, new fitness plan. I thought I’d give it a whirl. Not the first time. But maybe this time I’ll actually stick to it. Maybe this time I’ll actually stop being a baby about going to the free, newly remodeled gym before I leave campus. Just to hop on an elliptical or treadmill. I really do like working out. I worked at the gym when I was in undergrad, and I just loved it there. A gym–a college gym, at least–is a good atmosphere. Healthy, strong, happy people. Lots of motivation and encouragement. It’s a good place to be in the winter instead of sitting inside a  drafty apartment, staring out the windows at another grey sky.

on post-holiday panic

It’s the same every year.

Christmas is past; parties attended, carols sang, cookies eaten. The presents unwrapped and finding their ways to niches and nooks in my home. I should feel content. Sated. Rested. Relaxed. Happy.

Instead, I feel stressed.

Less than 2 weeks before I return to the turmoil of graduate school. Teaching. Learning. Writing. Reading. Busy-ness.

It’s not that I don’t like school. No, I really really really like school. It’s just that there are so many other things I like, too. Like baking. And writing not-school-related-things. And sewing. And cleaning my apartment. There are just so many things I want to do before I can’t do any of them. I feel so crunched to enjoy myself and my time that it’s almost paralyzing. Like I don’t know where to begin.

I know I should just dive in. I know I should just stop wasting so much time. But it’s hard. It’s so much easier to read and see everyone else being creative and awesome than to actually take up your pack and do it yourself. Because trying to do it yourself means that you might not actually succeed.

It’s strange. I don’t really fear failure. At least not on any conscious level. But that’s the only explanation I’ve been able to find for my lack of motivation to really dive into tasks with personal meaning. Clean the apartment? Sure, no problem. Can’t go wrong there. Write an essay? For submission to even the smallest of online lit journals? Yikes. I’ll never make it.

on birthdays and coffee

Today is my 25th birthday.

I like my birthday. One week before Christmas, it’s a red letter sort of day that has always signaled the end of any kind of school or real work and the start of some serious merriment. It keeps Christmas from sneaking up on me; once it’s my birthday, I know that Christmas is right around the sneaky corner.

I’m standing in the kitchen as I write this, making my morning coffee. I bought a new kind at the store last night called Winter Wonderland by Christopher Bean. I read the bag a few minutes ago, because coffee bags (well created ones, at least) can be real works of art and literature. I think the creators know that this is how coffee makers pass the time while waiting for the drip drip drip of the percolator.

Anyways, Christopher Bean’s motto is “Live your passion. Love your coffee.” A few short paragraphs explain that they want their coffee to be inspiring; as you sip over your toasty cup, think about where you want to go today, tomorrow, and more. I like that. It’s a little cheesy, but not too much.

Coffee time can be such a reflective, quiet time if you let it. It’s one of the few drinks that you feel okay drinking while doing nothing.

My coffee is ready now. I think I’ll pour myself a cup and look out the window over our snowy city.

something of a personal inventory

This is who I am and what I love.

I am a 20-something graduate student. In 1.5 days I will be a mid-20s graduate student. I teach entry level college English; I sometimes hate it, but I mostly love it. I study and write creative nonfiction. I always love it.

I am a newlywed, married on 7/11/09. I like my husband because he is funny and logical and intelligent and genuine. We have a cat–Mr. Cat. We always love him, too (except when he paws at the window blinds and cries).

I love baking bread, learning new things, and studying people, coffee, scarves, sunlight, books, photography, and brownies. Also, I’ve never met a wine I didn’t like.

I don’t write enough. So I’m going to work on that here. If it seems rough at first, stick around; it will get better. It always does.