New Years... New Decade?

Every year, I make absurd resolutions, things I possibly couldn't keep and don't completely know what I'm doing. So, this year, I'm going to try and keep things a little more toned down. I've got an intellectual, spiritual, physical, home, artistic, work, and financial resolution. I think that that's pretty decent.

Intellectual: 1. Read 100 books. I've decided to do book reviews for each of the ones I read, so that I can remember what I've actually read. I think it's a pretty important thing for me to be reading, and varying what I read. I'm pretty sure that I've only read one book of poems in 2009, and very little non-fiction. I did start reading some more sci-fi, but I really need to be trying to vary what I read. I also read a pitiful number of books in '09, so new decade, 100 books. I've already finished one and trying to pump my way though Lust for Life for my book club.
2. Read the New Yorker semi-regularly. I feel like a fraud talking with friends about people/things that appear in the New Yorker. I can get it cheaply on my kindle. I know that they pile up; I had a subscription when I was in Boston. However, I'm hoping that through the kindle, i'll be able to keep up/not kill the earth.
3. Read an online news source every day. I'm horribly ill-informed for being a history teacher. Recommendations, anyone?

Spiritual: Go to church one a month. I'm not really sure why but I am feeling the need to reconnect spiritually with the church. I've decided that this could be going to either synagogue or church but I think I need to be going. I feel the need to be doing some things quietly.

Physical: Here is where I always end up going crazy and don't keep to what I want. Right now, I am going to set the goal of generally watching what I eat (the iPhone has a lovely app for this--called "Lose It!" that allows you to casually track your food) and being active for a minimum of three times a week. I think this is a good beginning. Whether this is going to the gym, or using the wii fit--whatever it is. I joined a gym and I've gone maybe twice. Right before break, I played some basketball and it was wonderful to relax that way. So, I just want to feel more healthy. This also involves cooking more, which is something that I've wanted to do anyway.

Home: To keep things clean. I know this sounds silly since we employ a lovely cleaning lady; but I mean it in a sense of keeping organized. Things like once a month, deciding to clean out a closet, or reorganize, or give things to charity. Just keeping things up, so I don't become a pile-up. Without an impending move, it's easy to start getting gross.

Artistic: 1. Write poems. Simply.
2. Finish the three scrapbooks I'm working on--general, wedding and Israel.
3. Take photographs with diligence.
4. Take the art class C bought for me.

Work: 1. Present at another conference.
2. Get serious about figuring out grad school.
3. Get things back to students on time--no more than 3 weeks inbetween collection and return.

Financial: No debt except student loans by the end of '10. Don't buy stupid shit.

It seems like a lot, but it's not really. Just logical, really. Here's to hoping!

Christmas Is Here! (Almost).

The thing about Christmas is that it's magical even if you fight it. When C and I began dating, he firmly insisted that Halloween was his favorite holiday. This is fine, really. There's lots of excitement in dressing up, and I find that sometimes people's alteregos should really be their real ones. It reveals a lot about a person willing to dress up in a completely ridiculous costume and then embody it. Nonetheless, I told him, as cliched as it was, that my favorite holiday was Christmas. He responded with, "That's all girls' favorite holiday." We were still early in our relationship, before I was comfortable being a snide asshole with him. So I smiled and told him to simply wait.

And wait he has.

This, our first Christmas under one roof, has presented its fair share of challenges and triumphs.

It is increasingly hard to hide presents from him; he's a snooper and when I lay things out to wrap them, that is the precise moment that he chooses to awaken. He'll stumble out and ask, "Baby, who is this wine for? It looks good." So far, I have lied and pawned everything off on my father. It C was smart, he'd count the presents under the tree and realize that something has got to give.

Initially, it was even difficult to get him to agree to assemble the upstairs tree. "What the hell do we even need two trees for?" he mumbled. This, to any non-Midwestern person, who grew up with siblings, is a logical question. To me, the solid Midwestern, siblingless and (fine, we'll use the s-word) a bit spoiled, seemed ridiculous. I didn't even dignify it with an answer, but told him that I'd found the connecting pieces for A and B. Once the tree was up and lit, however, he seemed to like it. "Should I turn it off?" I'd ask. "Nah, you can leave it on. It makes nice light," he'd respond. I was surprised that he hadn't laid under the tree staring up into the lights like I had as a child. Then I remembered, he was a boy. From Florida.

Last year, C had been uncomfortable with the gift-giving. I will give him that my parents are a bit over the top. They write clues on the gift, they still stuff stockings, they try to find the "perfect" gift every year. His parents haven't really done gift-giving since C entered college. This year, I have gotten to watch him grow excited about presents (although his wrapping skills leave a lot to be desired--it should not take a half a roll of tape to wrap 4 small gifts...) and about giving. It's really a transformation; he sees the purpose in making someone else smile.

We're hosting my family's Christmas extravaganza this year. This means games, white elephant, a ham, liquor, the whole nine yards. I'm not entirely sure that I even understood what we were doing when we signed up for it. But, now that we're in the midst of it, roast beef thawing in my refridgerator, I think we're both excited about it. I can't yet speak to the triumphs (or failures) of this upcoming evening, I'm just hoping that it's going to go well!

Christmas Time.

The holiday season is firmly upon us.

And the best part is the little things. Cookie making party with S and P, C's feeble attempts to wrap packages, and most importantly, the little penguin he built that is lighting up our window. FIrst Christmas together is pretty exciting, I must say.

In The Week Before T-Giving

I am going to be thankful for things every day:

today, i am thankful for the following:
1. these ridiculous children -- and their ability to think i'm great and magical even though i'm not.
2. fridays
3. record players
4. my book club
5. a three day week next week
6. music--oasis and ingrid michaelson on repeat
7. poems

Girl on Sunday

She held a yellowed leaf above her head,
like an umbrella, on a sunny Sunday morning
dancing to the beat of stop-and-go cars
and flickering traffic lights.

There is no one in the world but her
and she is frolicking in an April storm.

She jiggled down the street,
knees like doorknobs,
and I watched, aghast at how
little there was to worry about
on a Sunday morning.

I had woken up and breathed in the air,
knowing this would be the last day
when it was too hot for the heated house
in many months. I woke up wanting

desperately to cherish the sun
and the color. Soon it would melt,
like gruel in a pot, like over-mixed paint,
to a gray, greasy, ice-splotched winter.
I took a walk, hoping to remember

the smell of fall, and the reason for love.

Instead I found that girl, impossibly
unaware, imposing in her hopefulness
already looking past snow leaking into
the tops of boots and toward squeaking galoshes.

Only the delicacy of youth
would look forward to the rain. And only I
would wish for a little less wind on a day
that shouldn't have happened anyway.

Just Being.

I went back to Beantown this past weekend--for the first time since I left it. I was nervous getting on the plane, worried that I, and the people around me, would be too different, that things would feel weird, that I wouldn't understand or they couldn't anymore. I was bringing C with me, worried that he might not like them. I was flustered about getting judged, or judging. I was extremely scared that people would not understand.

I was wrong.

It was amazing how easy it was to simply be.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should be there....

Midnight.

Those dreams, the ones I have where we chase to the cliff and plummet. I am tried of waking up, sweating and grasping when I know that the precipice is imaginary. The dreams that used to be, a smiling mouth, gap-toothed, like an aging cemetery, shook me awoke. I could be reassured by a simple flick of the tongue,

that I was secure. Now, as a lay, clasping the edge of the mattress, in a moment devoid of passion, but wrecking of animal, I wonder what is true and false. Lately, I have lain awake, listening for the familiar reassurance of the city buses, announcing our cross streets. I know, then, that I have two feet, and am grounded. If the bus does not come, I listen for the rustle of leaves, as a car drives by. If there is no car, I hope for a dog.

If there is no dog, I begin to drift surrealist, into a world of walking clocks, and men without faces. You still have your back to me, already shaken and mummified again, from the moment I jolted off the edge of the quilt, inches from the floor.

I repeat and repeat that I am alive. And well. The words mean nothing, when I cannot see the outline of the room.