Tonight!

Monday Update, Balmy Weather Edition

The Runner sent the children out to play on Saturday and on Sunday.  It was warm enough that the elder two refused their jackets.  Well, they wore them out the door . . . then shed them.

I taught my first Sunday school class in a good while yesterday.  It seemed to go well enough.  I'm not accustomed to teaching in that setup, so I've got some adjusting to do.  They chuckled in the appropriate spots, and I fairly cleanly fielded the one unexpected response I got . . . so far so good.  The Runner says I did fine, so I trust her.

Rough weekend from a psychological standpoint . . . as I mentioned yesterday evening, it's hard to feel like all one's efforts are mere drops in the bucket all the time. . . while the bucket continues to get bigger and bigger.  The Runner was kind enough to assure me that I'm doing a better job than I give myself credit for.  My fear is that the moment I start believing that I'm doing alright, the bottom will drop out and I'll end up on my face.  That is a state of mind I've had since The Year I Almost Died. . . and invalid though it may be, it's a hard lesson to unlearn.

We did show the boys Star Wars on Friday night (I refuse to call it by its hokey new name).

The weather is good.  I should be out on the bike.  Always something more.

Bupropion XL 300

I am wondering if perhaps I don't do better without taking this particular drug . . . I ran out of my supply around Wednesday of last week and found that I was doing just as well if not better without it.  Time for a change, perhaps?

In which Piers hangs tight

I mentioned a couple of months ago that I'm pretty sure that the "depression thing," so to speak, isn't going away any time soon. . . it's not something that I'm going to get better from.  It will continue to be a condition that I manage by managing the various symptoms that arise from time to time.  One does not finally overcome the kind of DSM-IV disorder I possess; one learns to keep it relatively under control and then request more aggressive intervention when necessary.

Most annoying to me is that I feel myself paralyzed by anxiety from time to time.  It comes for no reason other than run of the mill work stress, but I find that it has a major effect on my ability to complete even the most unexceptionable of tasks. . . to say nothing of actual research and writing and parenting, which are the more energy-intensive pursuits I must tend to.  Yes, I said annoying.  I know what's going on; I know it will pass; I'm not concerned by it . . . but I have to endure it.  And I have to force myself to keep the rest of my life going when all I really want to do is take a nap.

Depression lies; its lies are manifold and merciless.  Part of being an adult about this (again, "being an adult" is my motto for the year) is recognizing that it's not permanent and not a cause for panic as long as I do my best to make good choices and manage the things that are most important to me.  I think it also comprises the novel notion that perhaps I need not try to bring home 6-8 hours of potential work every night, and then kick myself for not doing that 6-8 hours of work. 

I am anxious about many things, but I also recognize that the anxiety need not be the final word.

Also, maybe I should cut down on the coffee.

Adventures With Students, Vol. 37

Today in my 16th Century Literature class I had a new experience.

We are discussing Castiglione's Book of the Courtier, and today's topic was Book Three, in which his interlocutors discuss the relationship between the sexes. 

Student X says the following as we get close to the end of the class (I can't remember the words exactly; what follows is a paraphrase of our conversation:  "Well, before Constantine created the Bible, women were in fact equal.  Jesus's wife walked beside him."

me:  uh, Constantine?  Wife?

Student X: "Mary didn't walk behind Christ, but beside him."

me:  Mary?  You mean his mother Mary?

Student Y:  "No, Mary Magdalen."
Student X:  "Yeah, Mary Magdalen."

me:  !!!!!!!!!!!!!  Jesus was married??

Student X:  "Certainly.  In the Jewish tradition, the bridegroom handles the wine, so in the wedding at Cana, Jesus would have had no reason to handle the wine if he were not the one getting married."

me:  (glancing around and seeing the natives beginning to get restless)  I've never heard any of this before! I'd be interested to know what your source material is on all this . . .

Student X:  "Oh, the gnostic tradition."

me:  (almost snorting) aha, I understand a bit better now. 

Student X:  "Yes, see, when Constantine made the Bible, they changed a lot, and that was when women were treated as subordinate to men."

me:  (hearing Twilight Zone music) I'm gonna quibble with your history a bit--the Hebrew Scriptures predate Constantine by a good long while and there's pretty clear hierarchy going on there... but anyway . . . what were we talking about?  I can't remember.  I've lost the thread.  We're out of time anyway, so I guess you all should just go . . .

Monday Update, Dark and Stormy Night Edition

We made it just fine last night, though apparently you would have thought the world was coming to an end.  We dutifully hunkered down in the hall bathroom while the sirens blared, and then put all the children back in their beds.  Little Red had gone to sleep before 6:00 and snored all the way through.  This morning he was amazed to hear that he'd been in the hall bathroom for an hour in the middle of the night. 

We are still enjoying upper and lower G-I adventures at our house . . . it was Little Red on Saturday night, and The Runner is not sure how she feels at the present.  I was the only one from our family to make it to church yesterday morning, but I had a class to teach . . . so . . . I joked that the only reason I was there before the starting time was because I was the only one from my house who was actually able to come!

Work has begun piling up quickly.  I felt great last week . . . until Thursday, when all of a sudden it was like someone backed up a dump truck and unloaded right on my shoulders.  Oh well. . . I guess the being adult part is the part where you bear up and make the best of it.

Trying to maintain balance.

In the department of unfortunate timing

A notice came across our "Swapshop" email list yesterday about two boxer pups.  I want this puppy.  Would Little Red love this dog?  Yes, yes he would.  But because it would fall to The Runner to do so much of the caring for the dog, we both have to accept that now just isn't the time. 

Adventures in Parenting, Vol. 34

The other night, Number One Son was feeling awfully weepy--which has happened a lot recently.  We have changed the bedtime routine & are being much more strict about enforcing it, which has caused some dismay on the part of the two older boys.  A couple of nights ago, it was Number One Son, tuning up and crying because we weren't going to let him and his brother spend time playing on the floor.  As soon as Number One started crying, Little Red started a raucous cackling--quite infectious, actually.  I left the room, seeing that The Runner had things well in hand.  I learned later that Little Red turned to his older brother, put his hand on his face, and gently said, "don't cry, Johhthan."

He was laughing to help his older brother feel better.  What a kid.

Also, the craziness from the week before Christmas has not abated.  I don't know what has gotten into Number One especially, but he sets the others off big-time.  Testosterone supplements, maybe?

Century

I'm planning to ride this century in April.  I must start training today, but that involves pulling out the trainer, bringing in the bike, and spending an hour each evening in front of the television sweating.  April 21 is awfully early in the season for such a long event.  waaaah!  I don't waaaaaaaannnna exercise!

Monday Update, MLK Edition

Looks like they roped me in after all.  After not hearing anything for several weeks, I thought the sunday school class thing was done.  But yesterday the pastor grabbed me and they were relieved to have me agree to start teaching next Sunday.  I figure it'll work out okay until I say something too heterodox. Ha! Ha! Just kidding!

I wouldn't have agreed to do it--especially given my tenuous relationship with Baptist polity these days--but that class really needs a teacher in the worst way.

Number One Son continues to exhibit the strangest behavior!  For one thing, his front tooth is so loose that it's starting to make him look like Cletus from over in the holler.  Or Larry the Cucumber.  But it's like there's this enormous amount of energy that he can barely control, and when he's wild, he sets the other two off.  Mealtimes are especially chaotic.

Classes start in earnest tomorrow.  Last week was a false start, really.  I'm excited about that part, really.  The rest of the responsibilities are really weighing on me.  I honestly don't feel up to them.  Not sure if it's a reasonable or valid reaction to the realities here, but that's where things stand at least.

I'm reminding myself to be thankful this week--for my gainful employment, for my students, for my healthy children, for harmonious relationships with parents and in-laws.  So many people don't get to enjoy these things.

Two guiding principles:  adulthood demands that you work even with the less-than-ideal, and that you learn to invest yourself wisely. 

Martin Engineering

It finally came time today to replace the light in the master bathroom. The old one has been broken for ages. So, when we pull the old one out, what do we find? We find a hole. No box, no proper connection . . . Just a hole, with insulation falling out all over me and my clothes and the floor.

So, I Martin-engineered a solution. It only involved one trip to Rural King and one trip to Lowe's. For now the new light is working fine.

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here we goooooooo

With the start of the semester always comes a welter of mixed feelings. . . glad to be back at work and relating to (most of) my students again.  It's fun to see them a second or third semester.  I'm glad to see (most of) my colleagues as well.  The regularity of a semester schedule is good for me.

This semester, even more than in most cases, I have to learn (or keep learning) the art of investing my time wisely.  There are too many things to see to, and I honestly cannot get to them all in a given day.  I've got Peter Parker's problem, but in the inverse:  I have great responsibility, but I'm not so sure about the great power bit!  Which is why, again, I should think less about spending myself and more about investing myself . . . in people and projects that can actually bear fruit.  And to do so without guilt that I should be doing better.

It has been a week since I posted last.

A week in which I had the boys by myself for a weekend, and in which I've been frantically getting ready for the upcoming semester.  A lot is going on. 

The one thing I have wanted to point out:  there are several things that are not all that great about living in NWTN.  The boys having room to roam, however, IS that great.

"Task Force" = the devil?

This portion of New Year Letter seems apropos:

To say two different things at once,
To wage offensives on two fronts,
And yet to show complete conviction,
Requires the purpler kinds of diction
And none appreciate as he
Polysyllabic oratory.
All vague idealistic art
That coddles the uneasy heart
Is up his alley, and his pigeon
The woozier species of religion,
Even a novel, play or song,
If loud, lugubrious and long;
He knows the bored will not unmask him
But that he's lost if someone ask him
To come the hell off in the links
And say exactly what he thinks.
--Auden (1940)

Monday Update, New Year Letter Edition

And so, the holiday comes to an end.  I spent a good part of the day at work today, and Number One Son starts back to school tomorrow.  He's ready.  As for me, I have ten days until the spring semester starts.  I thought I had another weekend in there to get ready!  Oh well.

The building was empty.  Why was I the only person on the first floor, you ask?  Because I had to produce some material for a task force I'm on, and for which we have a two hour teleconference on Wednesday.  Part of my problem in doing work like this is that I see it as more or less a diversion from real work . . . the problem I was supposed to address, for instance, is the recruitment and retention of faculty.  The answer is very simple, but we're supposed to pretend that it isn't.  The university needs more money to both raise salaries and reduce teaching loads.  The nominal issue (according to my assignment) is the revision of "policies and procedures."  Like hell . . . policy revisions will not address pay deficiencies or overloaded instructors. 

I tend to want to redefine issues when they appear to be so dishonestly addressed, but have to force myself into the professionalism of playing with the hand dealt to me.  Still, it gives me a headache.

What came home like never before this "break": the parenting really is unrelenting. Just when we have a handle on what one is doing, the other changes the rules.  The Youngest, for instance, has decided that it is his turn to start exerting his will.  This is fine, and doesn't scare either of these parents.  But the screeching in anger does wear on the nerves.  Today, when I got home, it was "look at this!" and "let's do a science experiment!" and "let's build legos!" and "can we watch Wild Kratts on your computer?"  . . . and this was all between 3:30 and 5:00.  Don't get me wrong:  I know how fortunate I am to have the children I have, but I also know that they won't let up on us.

What I need to do is some research, writing, and serious reading before the term starts.

But who, though, is the Prince of Lies
If not the Spirit-that-denies,
The shadow just behind the shoulder
Claiming it's wicked to grow older,
Though we are damned if we turn round
Thinking salvation has been found?
Yet in his very effort to
Prevent the actions we could do,
He has to make the here and now
As marvellous as he knows how
And so engrossing we forget
To drop attention for regret;
Defending relaxation, he
Must show impassioned energy,
And all through tempting us to doubt
Point us the way to find truth out.
--Auden, New Year Letter, Pt. 2

(I read this at the beginning of every January)