Travels

I almost don't remember all the moving and traveling and driving I've done the last several weeks. Memory is so odd. Sometimes I feel like it is a haphazard collection of moments, though I am lucky to have a good memory when I need it. If I'm just existing in life though--when I think about what I've done recently, I remember moments.

Walking slowly into Lake Michigan on a wavy, windy day, feeling the denim of my loose-fitting jeans swirling away from my legs, I remember the joy. Waist-deep and watching the waves coming in, I felt my breath taken away in sudden bursts as a wave reached me--hitting my chest and occasionally splashing my face.

Right as my friend and I reached the point of exhaustion--carrying boxes, bags, furniture a block and up an extra-tall flight of stairs to her new apartment in humid 80-something weather--the two parking spots directly in front of her door were simultaneously free and I experienced such a rush that my body forgot all about the previous hour. I ran to get the truck while she stood in the parking spots so no one could take them. I ran up and down the stairs with the next several loads of boxes etc. I puzzled at the energy and insane enthusiasm, but I didn't look the gift horse in the mouth.

I rarely dream, but the day after carrying basically all of my friend's worldly possessions up stairs and into her new apartment (including the brilliant decision I made to carry the wicker loveseat up by myself...) I was so exhausted (with good reason since I'd only gotten 3 hours of sleep the night before we arrived at the new place and had been on the road camping out for several days before that) that I basically slept the majority of the day away. And I remember my friends face when I woke up and looked at her asking if I'd told her about my dream yet. And the change over her face when I told her that I knew it was a dream because she was really excited about the alcoholic bread I was baking just for her (she never drinks).

I remember laughing hysterically as I drove down the road, finally on my way home and high on the caffeine in my green tea.

I can still feel the movement of my skin as it is being pushed around by probably close to 70 or 80 mph winds as I stood at the front of a high-speed ferry going directly into the wind.

For the first time in several months, I was able to easily fly through a book--a memoir all about traveling :) Tales of a Female Nomad. It was amazingly awesome. Even though Rita was getting divorced and letting go of her college-aged children the year I was born, I felt connected to her experiences--the lessons she learned about the world and herself .

I was surprised for the first time in a long time by the end of a novel: Hesse's The Journey to the East. Even as I closed the back cover, I felt excited about rereading it. I will, soon.

My first morning home I spent almost an hour weeding in the garden in the rain--the water rolling over me, the plants in my hands, and the mud everywhere.

Brain Rules

I am enjoying this book. It is well-written and entertaining. Plus is informed me that I am destined to become a teacher, as most people who know me already knew...

After some conversations with a friend of mine we were able to determine that she is much better at the whole self-knowledge thing than I am. Using Gardner's terms, she excels in intrapersonal intellegence and I have always been more of an interpersonal intelligence sort of girl. In Brain Rules, John Medina looks at the Theory of the Mind (the ability humans develop in effort to understand what is going on inside of other humans: basically, our mind reading abilities) and suggests that what may be a strong determining factor for good teachers is an advanced Theory of the Mind and the circumstances (ie. small classes) that allow for them to put it to good use. In other words, as annoyed as I can be with myself and how poorly I seem to know myself, at least I am going to be a good teacher because I have found yet another strength to match my chosen career.

On a slightly related note--

I was gone for a long weekend on a road trip to Colorado. I visited my oldest friend and her husband, driving with a guy I've known for a couple years, but only became actual friends with recently. It was a little awkward for a good number of reasons, one being the husband is not shy about the fact he wants to get me in bed (with his wife there, of course) and another that everyone just assumed that this guy and I were an official item. It didn't quite seem worth it to explain that as soon as we got back from the trip we wouldn't even be talking all that much--we're going to stay in touch as random friends, but regular texting conversations are pretty much at an end because we are at completely different places (abstractly in life and geographically on a map).

But the main thing is that there were a ton of things I didn't tell him even though there were a surprising number of fairly personal stories we talked about. See, this was the first time that I had anything close to a summer fling. The first time I let anyone get at all close to me without knowing practically everything about them in a really long time (for all intents and purposes, the first). And I realized how far I sometimes go in order to accommodate other people. I haven't really felt like I was changing who I was, or creating some sort of facade, or anything like how you feel in high school because part of me was like whoever I was behaving like. But what I realized is that, while part of me is like that, if that is the part that tends to be let out while I'm with other people most of the time, that means I spend more time with just that part than the rest of my parts. And therefore the slightly flaky, non-opinionated part of my personality is slowly taking over. The part that just laughs and tries not to ignore all the guys staring at me. The part that has to dress so guys stare at me in order to feel pretty. The part that just goes with the flow, even if that means drinking a little and accepting plastic bags at the store. The part of me that just stands around watching people play poker instead of leaving them all behind to enjoy myself on the dance floor.

I realized when I got home that, yeah, that is a part of me, but it sure isn't much--and I'm letting it run the show? How ridiculous is this? So I'm trying to get to know myself a bit better--I want to ground myself in the values that I actually find important and not just getting along with people. My ability to get along with practically anyone (my oldest brother is a notable exception) is important to me, but I need to focus a little more on creating myself as who I wish to be more consciously so I don't feel I lose my center when I hang out with people on a more superficial level.

I'm going on another trip, this time to Buffalo, NY for about 2.5 weeks. I'm going with a roommate from college, someone who shares more of my values than the people I've been hanging out with lately and with whom I can talk about this stuff. I'm thinking it is going to be a good trip.

Plus, I should have time for lots of reading!!