in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night
~ Ginsberg
The second semester of my master’s degree is in full swing, and even though it is only two classes, I can barely keep up! Remember back in July, I wrote about attending a conference in Ft. Lauderdale? Well, ‘part two’ of the conference was in January—this time in San Diego. The conference schedule was as the first one, rather intense. And, like the last conference, the views all about were gorgeous. Pure torture for us people from Michigan; yet in spite of the schedule, we managed to take in as much as we could of the city—mostly by night. The trip was on the cusp of classes beginning, and with no breathing room, I returned to both work and school (and a lot of laundry).
While in San Diego, I looked up a friend from high school—actually from elementary school on, and I have to admit to the melancholy feelings it gave me. The last time I saw him was around 1992, and it seems hard to believe that much time has passed by! He looked great, and I enjoyed having this feeling of ‘home’ all these years later, and so far across the country! I became aware, as will often happen, of the difference in the life I led (having children early, waiting to return to school) compared to so many of my peers. Alan, and many of my growing up classmates completed college on time, and have settled lives. It is amazing how many of my friends from high school are actually still raising young children. And though you are always a parent, my years of nurturing and intense responsibility are snug behind me!
Alan and Me around 1992
Alan and Me 2010
This was the first time I had been to California, crazy when I have lived in Nevada twice! You would think…but, those were young years, and I was raising children the second time I lived there. Anyway, San Diego still strangely had this sort of Mid-West feel to it, and my friend Alan even said the same. Still, being in California made me think of Ginsberg, which made me think of Howl, which made me think of madness, and exhaustion, and drugs and such. Maybe not in that exact order, but you get the general idea. That poem is fabulous in rage and frustration, and I wish I could write something like it. But what the heck would the topic be? Especially coming from an almost 45-year-old female college student? Perhaps I should write not about being in the supermarket in California with Walt Whitman, but in a Wal-Mart in Georgia with Anne Sexton. I digress I suppose, though from what I am not sure, another side effect of being a student in your 40′s with a full-time job…forced ADD.
The current pace of weekday life is like Groundhog Day, the movie. Funny, as I say that, I admit that when you work in a program like Head Start, everyday is different—and change is the norm, but somehow, change and its struggles have become predictable and full of sameness; and the assignments for college seem to have this “been there before” feel to them. Though, there is something new, a sort of disconcerting feeling. Have you ever heard the phrase “being pushed up against yourself” before? The new social networking phenomena, combined with the topics I face in my college classes, and the literature I pick out to read, all give me this sense of facing off with ghosts of my life, my kids’ lives, my parents and grandparents lives, and even all those friends and foes. It is wondrous, fun, and exciting, while also being a bit stressful and maybe even anxiety producing.
Perhaps changing life so drastically just gives you that feeling—it’s classic Maslow (remember students-I can’t stress this enough-never, ever use Wikipedia). The bottom couple of tiers of the pyramid have been shaken up a bit, so the steps one takes are hesitant, and questioning. Which way now, Scarecrow?
