"I sang in the shower this morning because the water was hot and because no one was trying to kill me. It was a pure, uncomplicated happiness. I can only hope this lasts."
-- Chris Ayres, _War Reporting For Cowards_

"It wasn't for children, seventh grade. You could read the stress of even entering the building in the postures of the teachers, the security guards. Nobody could relax in such a racial and hormonal disaster area."
-- Jonathan Lethem, "The Fortress of Solitude"

balloons
by Charles Bukowski

I saw too many faces today
faces like balloons.

at times I felt like
lifting the skin
and asking,
"anybody under there?"

there are medical terms for
fear of height
for
fear of
enclosed spaces.

there are medical terms for
any number of
maladies

so
there must be a medical term
for:
"too many people."

I've been stricken with
this malady
all my life:
there has always been
"too many people."

I saw too many faces
today, hundreds of
them

with eyes, ears, lips,
mouths, chins and so
forth

and
I've been alone
for several hours
now

and
I feel that I am
recovering.

which is the good part
but the problem
remains
that I know I'm going to
have to go out there
among them
again.

Don't you hate it when you say "I'll do it when I get a day off" to so many things that your day off comes, and you realize you need a week? Oh well. Time to prioritize.

It's priority time in general. It's been two months now, and I think this was the craziest two months of my life. Crazier than moving to another country where I didn't speak the language, even. Some of my friends are endlessly fascinated by my tales of urban educational blight. But after 13 years, I can recognize the expression on Rick's face that means I'm obsessing. More importantly than annoying my husband, I am, as a friend put it last night, annoying MYSELF. That's bad.

[The endless edu-blogging will continue just because this mess is too crazy not to fully document, and if you don't like it, you know where the back button or space bar or whatever is located]

For the last two months, I have been broken enough that it limits the range of activities I feel I have the stamina for. My leisure time has been consumed by movies, TV, blogging, and micro-activities like playing a hand of online Scrabble now and then. There is more than that. I am not a couch potato by nature and now is not the time to become one. If I were to go on vacation tomorrow, I couldn't travel the way I like to travel because it would tire me out. Lately, I've been tired at the top of the TWO flights of stairs to my classroom. That's bad, too.



So, I've been trying to regain some balance. I don't want to be TeacherBot 3000. There used to be other things that were important to me, other things I did. So here's my public accountability -- I will not be All School All The Time.

1) I used to read books. I went to the library on Friday and got a couple.
2) I used to be in good shape (not buff, but at least fit), but I haven't been to the gym in two months. I'm going to be in a national park at the end of December and I need to be able to hike in it. Today, I took a walk.
3) In addition to my body, my apartment and my car are a mess. This won't change overnight, but I need to start. Rick is almost as busy as I am but has thusfar prevented us from living in total squalor; I need to help.
4) Despite being around Latino kids all day, I've somehow forgotten to keep up with my Spanish. I've chosen a new soap opera to Tivo and will start that this week.
5) I used to brew beer, not just drink it. Thanksgiving weekend? I also need to cook more. I did cook once last week, which is an improvement.
6) I need to get out more, but the out to eat project has jump-started that. See also #2 about hiking. I did go to a fun concert last week ($15) and have another show scheduled for next week ($0 radio promotion).
7) I used to see and talk to a wider range of people. When you're being crushed under the weight of a dysfunctional situation, it's hard to pick up the phone. Maybe for every 10 times I call students' parents/guardians, I have to call an actual friend...

All in all, I need to chill. I am no good to my students if I'm broken, and I'm also much less good if I'm embittered and resentful. If I take time away from working to take care of my body, I will have more energy to do my job more efficiently. Maybe if I do more things I enjoy, it will lessen the [headaches/nausea/insomnia/aches and pains/lack of appetite/anxiety/depression/apathy/pick one].

It's an important job, but IT'S JUST A JOB.

How do you stay balanced? I'm taking suggestions from anyone with a busy life and a disposition towards overwork.

ZenHabits.net says:

"But often books are kept almost like trophies or mounted animal heads - they show how much we've read, and the big books we've tackled, and how smart we are. Be honest with yourself - you're never going to read most of those books again. You have too many ahead of you to tackle."

This is true (for me anyway) and something I only recently admitted to myself. I used to judge people who didn't seem to have any books in their house. When people have books out, I still try to get a look at them for clues about that person. And, since I'm insecure about my intelligence, having a lot of books around used to be a great way for me to feel educated.

At this point, I don't care. I've been steadily reducing my book clutter for about 7 years now -- hundreds of books donated and sold -- and it's been about that long since I bought non-reference books with any regularity. Guess what? I *still* have too many books. This is just not reasonable for someone who moves as much as I do. What - do I think people will assume I'm stupid unless I have too many books for my storage space? And if they do, why do I care?

Maybe I should start keeping my library cards and displaying them where some of the books used to be ;)

I've been reading "Now Watch Him Die" by Henry Rollins. I like his music, radio show, and IFC show, but have sometimes found his books a little hard to take. Free verse isn't my thing and I'm not sure homie edits himself much. But on the other hand, this is an interesting person, and reading his books is like reading his diary -- and he was doing it all pre-blog era so perhaps he was prescient on some level.

"Now Watch Him Die" chronicles Henry Rollins going out of his head after his friend Joe Cole was murdered in a robbery. I was intrigued because this guy is successful and seems to have it together and many people would fall apart after that. I mean, I like to think I've seen some shit in my time but I haven't seen my best friend shot in the face and killed in my home.

This was all around the time of the '92 riots and Rollins had this to say:
I didn't know who the biggest idiots were, the looter, the guys with the sticks or the people wanting to see the blood. I decided that they were all assholes and left. Fuck this place. Fuck this city. Los Angeles is for losers. I think I'll have to move soon. I don't want to live the rest of my fucking days in this decadent shithole. I don't want to die in this city.

and...

Every time I come back here I always kick myself. What a bad place to be, evil place. Only a sucker would end up old in this city. Why do it when there's so many places on the planet. 31 isn't old, is it?

It's worth noting that Henry Rollins, as far as I know, still lives here.

One more:

I have always kept moving. Thousands of miles and I have made friends through the years. Somehow motion keeps me breathing. I fear these still nights in the same room. I sleep better in hotels. It's a room I'm in because I'm on the move. I can deal with that much. The only way I have been able to get through life without spending all my time freaking out and hurting myself is movement and music. The fury of the music matches what I feel and I have a temporary world that I can exist in for two hours a day. Spending years on the road in search of this relief is beyond the comprehension of many. They ask me how I do it. I have no answer to that one. I am amazed to survive sleep. Sleep is the state that I fear most. Insomnia and paranoia are two of my constant traveling companions. The road is the only thing I have found that keeps all the parts from flying off. It keeps the brains in my head. The idea of standing still for too long freaks me out. I wonder if I'm addicted to exhaustion.