Posted by: jt | December 9, 2008

a modicum of emo

I’ve been in Seattle for eight days and it’s good.  It’s good. On multiple occasions I’ve looked around and giddily squealed aloud, to myself, “I live here!”

It’s good.

And, good lord, I’m tired.

Part of it is a new job and having to be on so damn much. Part of it is everything just being new, new, new. Part of it is an Eastern to Pacific time zone shift that’s fucking with me. Part of it is that I hit the ground running on October 15th and didn’t really hit pause until I got to Seattle on November 30th. Part of it is that this is event/networking season and three out of five nights both last week and this week, I will have had work-related events.

I’m tired.

I’m content – I’m even working toward happy, I’m just tired.

This offers a bit of an explanation as to why it hit me harder than I would have thought to learn, this morning, that my freshman and sophomore high school English teacher passed away last year. She was a fiercely smart, witty and creative woman. I hadn’t seen her in close to a decade, but she is still a common reference point for those of us who had the privilege of being her students.

There is much that I learned from her, but my dominant memory is her refrain, when asked the meaning of a word by a lazy student, “You’re sitting on a dictionary.” Indeed, we were all sitting above dictionaries – placed on the wire shelves beneath the hard seats of our public school one-piece desk/chairs.

Perhaps that implicit lesson is the greatest one she taught me – self reliance and initiative. Don’t ask what you can answer.

I’m also recognizing that grief is an emotion upon which I don’t have a firm grasp.* It may be typical, but I automatically flip back to people that I love who I’ve lost and then, that rolodex of emotions complete, to thoughts about people who are close to me who have recently lost parents or partners. In what I think is a bizarre escape mechanism, instead of thinking about the person who is no longer in my life and how they impacted it, I end up focused on my friends and wondering how they’re coping.

Hello, avoidance. It’s good to recognize you.

As if that weren’t enough, I knew I was coming home tonight to watch Craig Ferguson’s first monologue since his mother died. [sigh]

I have so much love for this man – so much love – and, avoidance aside, for Mrs. Cody, for my grandpa and for Robin. I miss you all.

*That slightly awkward sentence that does not end in a preposition is just for you, Mrs. Cody.

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Responses

  1. […] we narrowed it down to that we want to look at. (What a grammatical nightmare that sentence was; Mrs. Cody would be shaking her head in disgust.) Here are exterior photos of the houses and descriptions of […]

  2. […] I didn’t learn a damn thing in public school after elementary school (with the exception of Mrs. Cody’s class!). That “lowest common denominator” thing? It’s true. And Isabel, this is why […]


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