A Fleeting Moment

my orchid died.

i never mentioned it
because i thought it didn’t matter -
    it was quite a while ago now.
it was sometime in the fall;
    i don’t recall the date.

it didn’t seem important.

i really tried to keep it alive,
    though i probably had no business
    owning an orchid.
they’re too fragile.

the first time i forgot to water it
    it sprouted a new leaf.
    well, i thought, it thrives on neglect.

but the second time,
    it was out in the sun,
    and the leaf died,
    and then the rest died.

well, i thought, there goes another one.
     i really liked that one, too.

it’s too bad it died.
i never even got to see it bloom;
    but it’s my own fault.

for a while the pot
    sat out on the patio;
    an empty bowl full of dirt -
a flower’s corpse.

someone came along and planted something else in the pot.

i didn’t know that it had been done
    until i noticed the green shoots
    that shouldn’t have been there.

what business do green onions have,
growing in the roots of my orchid?
    i never gave them permission.

and they probably won’t die, either -
     pernicious things.

it’s too bad that it died:
    my orchid, i mean.
    i really liked it.

i had great hopes that it would live
and bloom again.

but then i killed it;
    i didn’t mean to -
    i just forgot to water it.

i guess orchids can only be so independent.

    but i probably had no business owning an orchid anyway. 

i wish that orchid hadn’t died. 

for the past few days i’ve been giving my three high school students their end-of-the-first-grading-period tests.  (if you aren’t aware, i’m teaching at a semi-local "magnet" school for the arts.  the HS students each select a fine arts "major" that amounts to the first period in block scheduling.  i’m the "piano" major teacher - three students, five days a week, 80 minutes a day.)

this special time of the semester has allowed me to re-discover the difference between perception and reality:  what i think my students know, what my students think they know, and what my students actually know are entirely separate entities.  unfortunately, this translates into them having done very poorly on their exams.

which leaves me with a huge dilemma:  do i assume that i’ve simply thrown too much information at them, and back off; or do i rest uncomfortably in my suspicion that they just didn’t study?  either way, i still have the problem of how to proceed from this point, since most of the topics we’re working on compound knowledge from segment to segment.  in other words, since they apparently haven’t "gotten it", how much can i count of them to "step up" and "catch up", and how much do i simply have to review before we can move on?

i really don’t like the idea of going back over things they should already know; but if they don’t solidify their understanding of these ideas now, the rest of the semester(s) will just be lost on them.  the question is, how much do i have to review before i re-burden them with the responsibility for learning the material?

Things That Have Changed:

1. Location:  from Dayton, OH SE 500 miles to Greensboro, NC
2. Marital Status:  from Single to Married
3. Academic Standing:  from Graduate to Student
4. Ownership of Pet(s):  two kittens
5. Expectations of Others:  academically an exponential rise

Things That Have Not Changed:

1. Socio-Economic Status:  still in the 0% tax bracket.  the IRS actually paid me to file taxes this year.
2. Social Life:  none
3. Expectations of Others:  business/socially the same
4. Expectations of Myself:  high
5. Projected Fulfillment of Goals:  low
6. Ambitions:  many
7. Motivation:  insignificant

"let’s go see a movie this afternoon."

"can’t - sorry; there’s supposed to be a rip in the time-space continuum today at 3 o’clock, and i really have to take advantage of it if i’m going to get this report done by Friday."

the past two months have been - quite full, to say the least.  traveling, weddings, auditions, surprise announcements (some might add)…on top of the growing-ever-more-difficult situation in which i live; "in tumult", i believe, accurately describes both my pysche and my circumstances.

to elucidate a bit.  i was traveling for almost the entire month of February, first to Cincinnati for a wedding, then to Cinci, Greensboro, NC and Austin, TX for auditions.  needless to say, i was greatly relieved when it was over.  for the most part, i thought all the auditions went well, although my efforts were obviously best received in Greensboro.  for that reason primarily, i felt fairly confident that i would be accepted, offered an assistantship, and would be very highly likely to enroll, whether or not i was accepted elsewhere.  as it turns out, i won’t need to deliberate about that.

i received a letter from CCM (Cincinnati) only ten days after my audition.  since it was my third attempt - which ironically is supposed to be "the charm" - i was not surprised when it wasn’t exactly good news.  conversely, i wasn’t surprised when i received my acceptance letter from UNCG (Greensboro).  (sidenote:  that was the first actual letter of acceptance that i’ve ever gotten.)  UT (Texas) was a toss up, though - i had no idea how it would turn out, and spent many weeks expecting the worst and secretly hoping for the opportunity to suffer through the agonies of having to make a "big decision".  no such luck.  i got my note o’rejection this afternoon - finally.  i’m always surprised at how long it takes some schools to "break the news".

this little love-letter came at a particularly bad time.  while in Miamisburg in February, i "broke the news" to my parents about the longevity of a situation that they had made it clear they did not endorse.  in itself an extremely difficult afternoon, but after which they in a sense got over it - pretty quickly, i might add - and decided to start planning an event (to take place in July) for which there has at yet been no formal announcement made.  hence my irritating beat-around-the-bush language.  all that to say that while traveling and auditioning, i’ve also been attempting to make big plans long-distance, which to date hasn’t worked out so well.  it’s been extremely frustrating, compounded by the fact that Mom has been particularly busy and hasn’t always been the most forthright with information - which she hasn’t had, because she’s been too busy to get it, but without which it is impossible for me to plan/organize.  and being long-distance, i get worked up over things because there’s nothing i can actually do about them, so it’s been a real pain.  and still not getting done - at this point due to contacts who seem to think they have until doomsday to return my phone calls.

as if that weren’t enough, my living arrangement in Tell City has rapidly become somewhat of an emotional disaster for me, having partly to do with the afore-mentioned pressures but more directly a result of the complexity of the situation compounded by Grandma’s increasing inability to make reasonable judgements and stubbornly irrational fight for independence.  of course it is difficult  - and sometimes impossible - to deal with the slipping away of one’s faculties, both mental and physical, not to mention the fact that it may not be a circumstance of which we are aware; however, it is tragically problematic to have to deal with and look out for a person who refuses to accept the reality of that circumstance.  how do you convince a person that they need your help when they don’t recognize their own limitations?  how do you handle someone who is apparently convinced that your goal is to limit the freedom and capacity that you’re trying so hard to preserve?  as a frivolous but apt example, which is better:  to indulge your taste for high-fat foods because "life’s too short" and "a little won’t hurt" (even though a "little" on a regular basis isn’t little); or to watch your fat intake by trying to explore and enjoy alternatives - although not what you’re used to - and avoid yet another medication that has very harsh, freedom-imparing side effects and improve your quality of life to boot?  (guess which option i prefer.)  reality dictates that the choices Grandma is making now by willfully (though perhaps not lucidly) behaving as if she can go on forever without making lifestyle changes will very quickly, and very abruptly, bring her to the end of her "grace period", when she’ll have no choice but to face the facts of the irrevokability of what she has allowed herself to become.  and it is ridiculously frustrating to watch that happen.

sometimes the rejoinder of "it’ll all be over soon" - a particular favorite of mine - has the opposite of its intended effect.  instead of comforting with the promise of better times, it serves simply as a reminder of the failure of the present hour.  there are no "do-overs" that allow us to re-write our struggles into victories; no second chances that can regain the time we’ve lost.  there is only the possibility that if we keep trying, without giving up - without letting go of the moments we think are lost - that we might make up the distance, and overcome in the end.

you know why i dream?  i’ve finally figured it out.  it’s because i can’t sleep.  can’t lay in bed all day, but don’t really want to get out…feeling tired because i wake up ten times every night but can’t ever get real rest…so i dream because my brain is trying to entertain itself.  so far so good - it’s probably the most interesting part of my day.

how depressing is it to have all the time in the world to do what you want to do, but not have the energy to actually do it?

this morning i had a dream.  as much as i can remember, this was my dream:

i was in a land i can’t identify; although i did not know it, i belonged there.  it was a desert, and there were many people.  my general location was on a flat plain (of sand) at the bottom of some sort of hill or dune, although most of the time i was inside a room (some sort of house, i think).  behind me was a large body of water, not a river, but splitting the land mass we were on from another distant one.  for some reason, the "people" thought i could tell the future, so for a while, i played along with the joke, amusing myself by making general observances and winking at the ones who knew it was a ruse (although i think there may have been one or two others, it was mainly a large number of dwarves - but they weren’t telling).  i suppose i should mention that the entire tenor of the dream was fairly "Lord of the Rings":  i was wearing a cape, as were most of the people around me.  it may be worth mentioning that it was a dark red cape with a hood, but there was some sort of pattern or design on it in purple and gold.  also, i think there was a gold clasp.

it appeared that the masses were lining up outside this "room" - which was at the top of the hill - to speak to me.  so i ran up the hill, expecting it to be a difficult climb because of the sand; strangely, i made it up quickly and with little effort.  i went into the little room, noticing that my next guests were my friends the dwarves, in the line along with everyone else, dressed also in capes, but in the very brightest of shades of yellow and red, alternately.  when they came in and sat down, they seemed to wait for me to say something, and i, enjoying the inside joke, told them to "ask me something"; but they didn’t - and i think it was at that point that the dream changed a bit.

suddenly, but without a "realization" during the dream, it was all real.  i was "in charge" - some sort of "wise woman" in a position of leadership because of…some assumed power, i suppose.  it was never clear to me specifically why i was in charge, and i definitely wasn’t any sort of political ruler; i think it had something to do with that future-vision.  but the strangest thing, i think, was that i never questioned it - and even to an extent had rather strong expectations of myself.

anyway, at this point three things occured:  one, i knew that i had some sort of power; two, i knew that a three-years war was coming; and three, that there was a woman outside in the line that was important to our "side".  i left the room to find her, but even though she had come "to see me", she turned away as i approached.  for some reason, she "wasn’t convinced" of me, my power, something - i’m not sure.  i tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.  i think i said something to her about the the three-years war - because for some reason, she was important in it - and then the tone changed a little again.  for some reason, as i called to her, i called myself Wisdom (as in, a name or title; also as in, Wisdom, personified as a woman in the book of Proverbs) and i think i started to quote some verse from Proverbs as she ran away.  but again, it was strange in that i didn’t "call" myself Wisdom, i was Wisdom, because i was calling to her; and i wasn’t "quoting" anything i was actually saying it.  i don’t have any other idea who she was, but she was clad in gray and hooded - the opposite of my vibrant colors; but for all that, very like myself.  (a side note:  there were actually two people, important to our side, that i went out to see, but the other one never appeared in my dream)  i went back into the room and explained that i’d gone to see two important "followers" - whatever that meant - but that they wouldn’t come in.

i don’t know if something happened or i just knew it, but at that moment the lower plain was being invaded, so i turned toward the "back" of the place i was in - but it became a fortress built at the top of that sand dune, with a thick but short wall overlooking the plain and the water, rather like some sort of porch jutting out from a cave.  i don’t remember the name exactly, but i was watching "Midrath", king of the goblins (or were they gremlins?) and his army pour across the sand.  the three-years war was beginning, and i wasn’t exactly ready for it - i felt very caught up short - but it was also very clear what i had to do.  Midrath, or whatever his name was, had to be made aware that i was in charge - that i was the responsible party, so to speak.  (for some reason, i also knew that there was some sort of "challenge" to be made, or a confrontation; he wasn’t just sweeping in for a silent massacre; and also, that he would be looking for me, in some fashion.  not "me" per say, but the person in charge.)

so i ran to the wall and started down the left side (slightly down the hill) and started yelling something along the lines of "speak to me!" but there was too much noise.  so without stopping to question, one of those "assumed powers" kicked in and i said something like, "silence, noise of wind and noise of battle! silence, i say!"  and then i went back up to the porch and climbed up onto the wall and yelled again, "Midrath, king of the goblins, speak to me!"  and this time, my voice was loud and deep and carried - no, resounded across the plain.  and i got their attention.

now at this point, i was aware of two very distinct sensations:  that of being utterly confident, and that of being very afraid.  i was standing on a wall over a very large hill of sand and didn’t relish the idea of falling; also, and even more prominently in my mind, i was in a very vulnerable position - well lit, high up, very visible, and - well, i had just drawn attention to myself in a major way.  i might be shot at with arrows, or one of those little monsters might throw his flaming torch at me.  and there i stood.  and Midrath was getting ready to make his statement.

and i woke up.

i think that was the strangest dream i’ve ever had.  it felt ultra real, intense, and very important, for some inexplicable reason.  normally when i remember feelings i’ve had in dreams, they’re along the lines of, trapped, forced, "it’s beyond my control" - that sort of thing.  but in this - i’ve never felt so empowered before.  i knew.  i was.  i did.

plus it was an interesting story.

i had the scare of my life last night.  Bradey and Ky had driven down to Dayton and were spending the night with Mom and Dad before Bradey drove out here to spend Thanksgiving.  but when i talked to him that evening, he said something very strange had happened, although his actual words were, "something really bad happened tonight" - which is scary all by itself.  anyway, at one point during dinner, his arm had gone numb and he wasn’t able to say certain words, kind of like he just couldn’t find the ones he wanted.  no one really noticed except Charmaine, and he didn’t say anything about it.  but he also developed a bad headache, which, by the time i talked to him, was getting worse to the point of nausea.  so i called mom and she took him to the hospital.

of course i was afraid it was some kind of stroke, possibly with some sort of hemorrhage; the symptoms were absolutely classic.  and it was all the worse because he’s so young - i mean, how many times do perfectly healthy 22-year-olds have TIA’s (transient ischemic attacks)?  plus, he hadn’t said anything about it right away, which meant it had been a few hours since the "dinner episode".  you know, being in the performing arts means lots of stress and agonized waiting experiences, but i’ve never been so ridiculously afraid and upset as i was in the hour between the time they left for the hospital and when mom first called me after he’d been admitted.  anxiety and ignorance are not a pretty combination.

after a CT scan and a lumbar puncture (during which mom said he was "profane"), they determined that there was no bleeding in the brain, and ruled it an "a-typical migraine".  however, because of its bizarre onset and his previous history of being relatively headache-free, the doctor(s) decided to keep him through the morning at least for observation and possibly some more tests.  as of this writing (4pm EST), he’s still in the hospital, waiting on the MRI results.  and though its not a particularly bad one at this point, he still has a headache.  and he’s tired, and he’s bored.

so he definitely won’t be coming out here until tomorrow, if he feels okay by then.   he’s obviously fairly bummed out that he has had to spend so much time in the hospital, and that he can’t get out here for a while, and that my family has had to "take care" of him.  but we’re so lucky that it happened in Dayton, and not in BG or here in Tell City.  i mean, if he was in BG, he would have been by himself and wouldn’t have gone to the hospital, and if he had been here - well, he wouldn’t have been here.  he would have been in the car on the way over, which would have been terrible.  so if it had to happen, it happened in the best place.  especially because Sycamore’s a much better hospital than Perry County Memorial, no offense to the good people that work there….

i couldn’t sleep last night.  even after the tests came back negative i couldn’t sleep.  i watched a movie, then i read, then i laid in bed and tossed and turned for a few hours.  i didn’t get any sleep at all until after i had gotten up this morning around eight and then finally felt tired and went back to bed for a while.  it was a very strange and disturbing experience.  poor Ky had to put up with me waking her up in the middle of the night crying because i didn’t know what was going on and couldn’t just sit still and do nothing.  so she stayed awake with me for a couple of hours before i was able to talk to mom about what was happening.

but especially that first interval of not knowing…afraid that it could be genuinely life-threatening….  i didn’t realize how out-of-practice i am at really praying.  of course, i don’t know that i would have prayed any differently if i had been "practiced"; but it was strange that though i haven’t consciously prayed for a while, last night i just couldn’t stop.  i’ve never experienced that before.  to be sure, all i said was, "please let him be okay - please don’t let anything bad happen to him - please, please, please, please, please…."  but i felt like i couldn’t stop until i knew that he was alright.  i don’t know how many times i said "please" last night, but it had to be at least six hundred.  i felt like my life was flashing before my eyes, and it was strange because it wasn’t my life on the line.  and still, the worst part is the waiting.

it struck me today that i miss Bradey.  this isn’t the first time i’ve had that feeling (thank God!), but today it made me realize - again - that i made the right decision.  and i realized it because this afternoon it dawned on me that i just don’t feel…right…without him anymore.  i keep looking harder and with more anticipation to the day that we’ll finally be together again, not just for the occasional weekend, but for life.  everyday, commonplace life.  wake up with messy hair life.

a lot of people seem to struggle with the question, "how do i know if i’ve found the right person?"  i used to think that when you met that person, you’d just know, with a sort of dramatic, spiritual connection kind of confidence.  and then i started dating.  eight years, multiple proposals (several of which were serious), and a fiance (not Bradey) later, i finally stopped trying to assess my own certainty.  obviously, i could be wrong, and had, in fact, been wrong every single time before.  that’s quite a track record.  so who am i to say, "he’s the one", when my batting average definitively predicts otherwise?

when i first met Bradey three years ago, i didn’t like him.  when i met him again two years after that, i didn’t remember him.  when he called me a couple of months later, i didn’t think anything of it.  when he told me a couple of weeks afterwards that he was interested in me, i didn’t expect it.  when he asked me out the following weekend, i didn’t answer him.  when he kissed me, i didn’t resist him.  and when, a very short time after that, he told me he loved me, i didn’t hesitate to reply, "i love you too."

now, seventeen months after we started dating, it hits me that in all this time, i’ve never asked myself if he was the right person.  i never had to.

i guess that’s what makes the difference.

for all the times you’ve rolled your eyes because i’ve said this….HA!