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June 26, 2004
Snappy pictures of Cloville
I finally organized some photos of my trip back to Clovis. You can click here to look at photos, click on each pic to enlarge.
Going back to Clovis was just like revisiting all of my failures, all of the things that I hate about myself, and all of the things I want to forget. I felt so strange going to a place where Taco Box is a hangout with no ironic appellation, every church sign has some sexual connotation, my mom's funeral is surrounded by giant American flags and volcanoes, and mobile homes are quality living.
All of that is nicely mixed with good feelings- talking with my last girlfriend from high school, looking at how tall the trees grew that I planted in my mom's back garden, eating all sorts of amazing comfort foods, and laughing with my sisters and family.
I keep editing and deleting text to try to convey how I feel right now. Just like Clovis, I'm just too mixed up to produce anything coherent. It was a mighty good place to grow up, I never owned keys to the locks on our door, as it was never locked. It was also a racist/hyperconservative bible belt, athletics worshiping hell. It is a place I grew up, it is a place I fled from. Right now I'm fine/absolutely falling apart, laughing/weeping, and not exactly a place anyone in their right mind would want to visit unless you're friends or family. I'm definitely glad I've got friends and family, but I'm also glad I'm just staying at home with my dog.
Posted by G at 08:06 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
June 24, 2004
Don't read if you're depressed
Actually, you might not want to read this if you're happy.
The trip to Six Flags (specifically the Nitro rollercoaster) has been a nice analogy for my month. Huge climb to the top, finish the thesis, graduate. Yes!
Mom dies. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaieeeee!
Survived, vaguely better for it. Things are getting better, no crying jags during night, dreams of mother aren't waking me up knotted with guilt. Dating, living, super-successful increase in kids' test scores. Feeling validated as a teacher, decide to actually stay in my school. Yes!
Discover yesterday of my secret placement on a list of incompetent teachers to be fired. Out-going idgit principal tells me of this, expecting me to be grateful, as list was eliminated. AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaieeeeeeeeee!
Verify that EVERY review of my lessons was satisfactory, EVERY class had increase of scores, merely that bloated idiot assistant principal had bruised ego and doesn't like me. The reason that I was on the list is because he hates me, the reason I still have a job is that I'm actually becoming a good teacher. Yes!
He'll still be my direct assistant principal in charge of my evaluations next year, and he is gunning for me. The reason he couldn't fire me this year is because he's lousy at documentation and anything else, actually. However, I am still far from perfect, he wants to get rid of me, and he'll be directly in charge of my evaluations next year. AAAAieeeeeee!
I can still move somewhere else if I want, maybe he'll get fired as he is truly incompetent, graduation was today, I wore my suit again. Yes!
Incompetent bastard unlocked my room at school to gain access to materials today, my iPod was stolen by a stupid fat slovenly evil 7th grader, my dog is sick and cost me another 180 bucks, and roommates and I had huge argument thing tonight. Aaiee.
End of ride. I'm finding this park not so amusing.
The really frustrating thing is that I had a WONDERFUL time with my kids at Six Flags. Some of my kids have never been outside of Brooklyn, have never been on a rollercoaster, and have to bring along a carefully packed lunch from their mom to afford this trip. Watching R, one of the sweetest students in the world, chicken out and step across from the first rollercoaster from fear, then return to the same rollercoaster at the end of the day whooping and hollering, telling me in his breathless run-on sentence way, ohmygodmisterthatwasthebestevercanwegoagainoh
pleasethatwasgreatdidyousee
howiheldmyhandsovermyheadjustlikeyou
andiwishmydadwereherewaittilitellhim!)
The real frustrating thing is that I think I could be a really good teacher, that I'm getting better every day, and I actually made a difference this year. Sadly, just the same as last year, ridiculous politics and small people make me want to leave. One minute my faith in humanity starts to build up, seeing the hope in my kids' eyes at graduation, the next I have kids and teachers telling me that the theft is my fault because anyone and everyone would steal. I see greed, lust, fear, and hatred every day in my school, and I'm scared that it will seep into me. I identified the kid that stole it, but we can't really do anything to this kid. While I was gone for the funeral, this child tagged about ten of my desks. I don't teach him, and I think he is jealous because I use more fun lessons with my kids (his math teacher is really crap). He is a kid that has just enough intelligence to hurt others and that's about it. I want to smash his fucking nose, I want to tell him that his shit life will always be shit, and that I'll kill him if I see him on the streets. All for a measly iPod. $400, which I can't afford to replace, but only $400. Is this me? Do I suddenly want to crumple this arrogant stupid fuck because of this? Am I the unthinking violence of my mom?
I'm so tired of this ride. I NEED THIS BREAK.
Posted by G at 10:20 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
June 21, 2004
Off to bed
Damn. I foolishly agreed to take my 8th graders to Six Flags in NJ tomorrow. Now I get to meet them at the school at 6:30, and we apparently don't get back until 7. I have a feeling that I will only do this once.
I have also been doing all sorts of computer updating, and I attempted to sync my supercool PDA phone to my laptop tonight. This attempt guaranteed that I would lose ALL of the contacts I have added into my cellphone over the last two months due to a computer glitch. Instead of adding more photos from Clovis, I'm having a glass of wine and going to bed.
Posted by G at 10:26 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Graduation pics are up
Yup. It was this exciting. Simon took a bunch of the photos. Click here to check them out, click on each pic to get the friggin' huge version.
Posted by G at 08:35 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
June 14, 2004
Good things, bad things
Photos from the Panhandle this weekend.
Summary of dealing with death:
1. Southern grief food kicks ass. Fried chicken, beef brisket, and cake. I've eaten more beef and frosting in the space of a week than I have over the last six months. I could never be a vegetarian, and the sugar will probably turn me diabetic. One night I came out of the kitchen with three huge slices of cake after a horrible day. My family all stopped talking and stared at my plate. I told them, "Fuck all of you. I'm grieving," and proceeded to strain my insulin production to the limit.
2. My mother hoarded change and fingernail clippers. Everywhere we looked, we would find one or both items. My mother probably had a $100 in change floating around the house, and apparently lived in terror of having long nails. There was one bag with approximately ten sets of clippers, we presume one for each toe.
3. Shiner Breweries just came out with Shiner Bock Lite. I tried it, it was good. Now I can sit on the couch and never worry about working out.
4. I now own a suit, after four years of not owning one. I got the advice to not buy pleats AFTER buying the suit. Everyone said I looked great in it; no one will ever know, as there were no pictures taken. Somebody had better have a wedding soon, as I would rather have a festive occasion to wear it. I also know now to carefully hug former Mary Kay salewomen, as they have a tendency to cake the lapel of the suit.
5. The box your mother's ashes arrive in looks just like a box of cake. It is not cake.
6. The person named Glenn who graduated in Clovis 15 years ago is definitely not the same person who was there a few days ago. They kept bumping into each other over the course of the week. Every encounter was extremely awkward, as they really have only a few things in common. The younger one thought the older one was scary, the older one thought the exact same thing.
Posted by G at 05:58 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
June 11, 2004
Weird town
I have to say also that even David Lynch would think this town was weird. I'll write more once I'm back in NYC.
Posted by G at 09:39 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Home
Long, long week. My amazing roommates have taken care of my dog, something I was too freaked out to even remember. Amazing friend Dave and his wife Erin picked me up at the airport, helped me buy a suit, and kept me going. They passed the emotional wreck baton to old roommate Brian, who drove with me through the night to Clovis, a seven hour trip. Huge thanks to them for holding me together.
Since I needed to get to Clovis, I basically got 4 hours of sleep in two days. Any time I was asleep I dreamed about my mom, trying to reach her, trying to talk to her, unable to touch her. I held off on the crying because I really feared I wouldn't stop. I never cry, basically because of that fear. I always repeat 'John Wayne' as a mantra until the urge passes.
My sister Bonnie was at our house, and I held up until I got to my mom's room. Seeing my mom's empty bed was just too much, and I couldn't hold it any more. My sister held me while I totally fell apart. The grief kept crushing me and I couldn't breathe, and then shuddering gasps dwindled to simple tears, and then suddenly I was somewhat rational again.
Death is a weird thing. Seeing my mother at the funeral home was horrible, yet some more grief-clearing. I would have given anything for her to just be able to give me one more hug, but it's not going to happen. More crying, but also insane laughter with my sister. Of all the horribly inappropriate Muzak songs to play, I get Phil Collins' ballad "One More Night." I've never liked him, especially post-Genesis, but now I'll always associate him with my mother dead.
The church where we went for the services was one of those NEW! churches. It was right down the street from a church called ONE-EIGHTY! Apparently this is a church SO different from other churches, it's ONE-EIGHTY degrees different! Same god? Yes. Same Devil? Yes. Same sins? Yes. But different! Of course, my mom's church was the model of respectability for a funeral, except for the VBS (vacation bible school, for the non-bible belt reader) decorations in the foyer and main hall. This year's theme was tropical, with a giant volcano directly behind the center podium. What really made it special was the theme "God's love is overflowing." I think this means that God's love is like scorching hot MAGMA, or that maybe virgins and skeptics keep getting sacrificed, but my sisters both told me I couldn't mention these thoughts. I also made the mistake of hugging one of my mom's friends who managed to cake about six inches of makeup on my new suit, but I guess that's what dry cleaners exist to do.
So I've made it through the funeral, and now we're having to pack up the things we want. I'm the only child that wants to stay here in my mom's place. The others think it is weird, but I still feel like my mom is here. I've been walking around alone tonight through the house, and all I feel is sadness. I just keep expecting her to roll around the corner in her wheelchair, or maybe to be in the kitchen. Everything reminds me of her, and I don't remember the bad things, just the good things.
I'm off to sleep one last time in my old bed, in my old bedroom, in the house that I always thought was home. Every minute spent here is filled with memories, some funny, some sad, all final. Except for what we take with us, everything is being sold and given to the ministries my mom funded in Mexico. It will be weird traveling around the world after this, because I always knew that no matter where I was in the world, I always had a home to come back to. I will miss her so much.
Posted by G at 01:42 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
June 07, 2004
For the last few hours,
For the last few hours, I've been sitting on my bed, waiting for the phone call. Bonnie and I decided that I should wait and see what happened. I got the call at about 1:15. I'm really just fighting the urge to hunker down on my knees, the darkness in my head more painful than I could ever have imagined. The tears keep coming up, and I just keep holding them down.
She never got to see NYC, Samarkand, Moscow, or London. She would tell me that it was so vivid from my descriptions, and that she loved reading the slices of my life. She said she wanted to be a mouse that could watch while I lived this life, this creation of mine. She would send me these great emails that were always encouraging.
She had this darkness inside of her, this need/fear thing that was very bad when I was a kid. She emailed me a few months ago and wrote this: "I realize I am a failure at so many things in my life, but when I read your Blog this morning I realize maybe, just maybe I didn’t totally crush you totally. I have been so afraid that all you remember is the bad. I continue to hope I did something right. Believe it or not I genuinely tried to be a good mother. I love you very very much Glenn and you can never know how proud I am to know you at this time in my life."
Our relationship was not easy. I loved her fiercely as a son, and I hated her for how she could manipulate me. I loved her because she always had faith in me, always encouraged me. I hated her for always rejecting me in favor of her church, and for the abuse that I had no defense against.
I remember the way I would always fall asleep, even at my last visit, my head in her lap as she would drift her fingers across my face. I remember the same hands striking me as a child. I remember the loving encouragement and support as a young boy, and I remember her screams of anger and hatred.
She instilled fierce loyalty and devotion from friends and acquaintances. She was generous and loving, helping out so many people who had noone else to save them. She always saw the best in people. She was an incredibly brilliant but deeply flawed person who did her best to raise her son.
I am her son, a sum of all of her strengths and weaknesses. She was always afraid that she failed all of her children. She didn't, but we could never get her to understand how she succeeded. My sister put the phone next to her ear tonight. I told her how much I loved her, how much of what is good in me is directly from her.
I want to say so much more. I want to say that I was sorry for every hurt I caused her. I wan to say how brave I thought she was for getting up every day, even though it terrified her to be alone. I want to say how much she is the reason I teach, the reason I want to help people. I want to say how I was thinking about her while I was graduating on Thursday. I want to tell her right now how much she will be missed.
I've bought a ticket back home, and I'll be back on Sunday.
Posted by G at 02:16 AM | Comments (12) | TrackBack
June 01, 2004
Stick a fork in me
I'm done with the thesis. I turned in 170 pages today, all the way from table of contents to bibliography. That would make 510 little confetti dots, if I wanted to celebrate in some way.
I really just don't want to type.
I also graduate on Thursday. Woohoo. I really just want to sleep.
Posted by G at 10:34 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack