I have a silly memory of watching my Dad in the rearview mirror of his car on our drives up to Maine: His facial expression tensed, shaking his head, no doubt playing out scenarios in his head. At the time, I thought of him telling my mother off, or selling salmon to a client that wouldn't take that extra case off his hands.
We're not so different, except I'm in a field with the sun beating down on me, picking cucumbers, accepting the scrapes and needle pricks of their leaves. In the scenario inside my head, I'm not so fragile. It's all a part of working through these anxiety attacks. It's all part of tying up loose ends so I don't have to wonder what went wrong when I remember this years from now, in Tennessee, on a warm, Indian Summer's night.
We're in the river with our suits, swimming in circles against the current avoiding our naked bodies. We're laughing and playing and I miss them already, but I can't wait to grow.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Going Back
I was standing in the rotunda with a piece of paper in my hand, clutching to it fervently. After eight years in the same building, how could I be holding the only shred of evidence that I had been educated there? My eyes scanned the courses that I had taken, and the grades I had received. I tried to remember how our class schedules were set up, what my plans had been, and how my teachers had always understood me.
It's easy to be a ghost walking through those halls, especially after so many years away. I stared into them empty classrooms: Mr. Sidmore, Mr. Ames, Mr. Borghesani, Mrs. Webber, Mrs. Manos, Mrs. Faust, Mr. Kreiger. These were all names that I had pushed from my mind as I moved on to other things. I resented Ipswich, and they were a part of it, even if they had given me the greatest gift of all.
There were desks that I had sat in, lockers were I had stowed my stuff. For the first time, I wondered about being a teacher. You meet so many students, how does it feel as they move on? At 20, I appreciate what they did for me. Is it requited? Did I bring anything to the table? Did I leave anything behind except a pretty transcript?
I ran my fingers over the white and black piano keys in the choir room, stood on a darkened stage where I had performed. Nobody would know that I had been there, wrapped in the forest green drapery, silently wishing I could thank the walls.
It's good to get closure on things. A 14 year old Ali may have been sickly obsessed with her love life. I've been too busy even to watch myself grow and change. There were times in my journal where I mentioned changing the world. There were times when I defended bands like Metallica, and Atreyu. Atreyu was the warrior who tried to save his world in the Neverending Story. I am not as brave, but I do know that without passion, without my teachers, or the Artspace, I may have never overcome the mellowdrama that consumed my early adolescence.
I'm leaving soon, but instead of denying where I am from, I will be thankful that I am from the North. I will be thankful for my teachers, thankful for Mr. Patch, and for all the perspective that Ipswich and Lowell have provided me with.
It's easy to be a ghost walking through those halls, especially after so many years away. I stared into them empty classrooms: Mr. Sidmore, Mr. Ames, Mr. Borghesani, Mrs. Webber, Mrs. Manos, Mrs. Faust, Mr. Kreiger. These were all names that I had pushed from my mind as I moved on to other things. I resented Ipswich, and they were a part of it, even if they had given me the greatest gift of all.
There were desks that I had sat in, lockers were I had stowed my stuff. For the first time, I wondered about being a teacher. You meet so many students, how does it feel as they move on? At 20, I appreciate what they did for me. Is it requited? Did I bring anything to the table? Did I leave anything behind except a pretty transcript?
I ran my fingers over the white and black piano keys in the choir room, stood on a darkened stage where I had performed. Nobody would know that I had been there, wrapped in the forest green drapery, silently wishing I could thank the walls.
It's good to get closure on things. A 14 year old Ali may have been sickly obsessed with her love life. I've been too busy even to watch myself grow and change. There were times in my journal where I mentioned changing the world. There were times when I defended bands like Metallica, and Atreyu. Atreyu was the warrior who tried to save his world in the Neverending Story. I am not as brave, but I do know that without passion, without my teachers, or the Artspace, I may have never overcome the mellowdrama that consumed my early adolescence.
I'm leaving soon, but instead of denying where I am from, I will be thankful that I am from the North. I will be thankful for my teachers, thankful for Mr. Patch, and for all the perspective that Ipswich and Lowell have provided me with.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Helen and Steve
I'm on the email list for the Massachusetts Animal Rights Coalition, or MARC. I always imagine two people being in charge because of the email address...Their names are Helen and Steve.
I never challenge my friends beliefs in order to keep the peace. Here is an incomplete list of why I believe, deep down, with no ifs, ands, or buts, that veganism is the right way to go:
1. Animals have distinct personalities. Our cats and dogs do, but in China they eat them. Cows do, but we eat them, even though in India they do not. Nobody is right, or wrong...and everybody somewhere is eating an animal that is considered a pet somewhere else.
2. Chicken farmers are sharecroppers. That's one step up from Slavery. They take out massive loans on the behalf of the companies they farm for and never make enough money to earn it back. They make as much money as anyone in a minimum wage job, except for the eternal debt thing. Also, technology is constantly being updated, and farmers are forced to update on their dollar, no matter how inhumane the updates may be. Also, exposure to the antibiotics in the chicken feed puts them at risk for incurable infections.
3. Factory Farming is anti-nature. It has destroyed natural resources, spread preventable diseases, and fooled helpless Americans. There is no point in fighting nature because it will always win. In this particular case, it will destroy us. Animals should be fed what there stomachs were built to digest. Corn should not be subsidized because our food should not be paid for by our taxes.
4. The dairy industry is directly linked to the veal industry. In order for Cows to produce milk, they must be pregnant. Male calves are sent to become veal...which may or may not be the most inhumane form of meat known to man.
5. Chickens raised for eggs live in battery cages. There is no room for them to move. It is completely inhumane exploitation of their resources.
6. Smithfield, Virginia...
7. Our agricultural system is fucked. By not boycotting it, you are selfishly condoning it because you "like meat," or "really couldn't live without cheese." Buy your own cow, put your own energy into it, and stop being part of this unhealthy system.
I never challenge my friends beliefs in order to keep the peace. Here is an incomplete list of why I believe, deep down, with no ifs, ands, or buts, that veganism is the right way to go:
1. Animals have distinct personalities. Our cats and dogs do, but in China they eat them. Cows do, but we eat them, even though in India they do not. Nobody is right, or wrong...and everybody somewhere is eating an animal that is considered a pet somewhere else.
2. Chicken farmers are sharecroppers. That's one step up from Slavery. They take out massive loans on the behalf of the companies they farm for and never make enough money to earn it back. They make as much money as anyone in a minimum wage job, except for the eternal debt thing. Also, technology is constantly being updated, and farmers are forced to update on their dollar, no matter how inhumane the updates may be. Also, exposure to the antibiotics in the chicken feed puts them at risk for incurable infections.
3. Factory Farming is anti-nature. It has destroyed natural resources, spread preventable diseases, and fooled helpless Americans. There is no point in fighting nature because it will always win. In this particular case, it will destroy us. Animals should be fed what there stomachs were built to digest. Corn should not be subsidized because our food should not be paid for by our taxes.
4. The dairy industry is directly linked to the veal industry. In order for Cows to produce milk, they must be pregnant. Male calves are sent to become veal...which may or may not be the most inhumane form of meat known to man.
5. Chickens raised for eggs live in battery cages. There is no room for them to move. It is completely inhumane exploitation of their resources.
6. Smithfield, Virginia...
7. Our agricultural system is fucked. By not boycotting it, you are selfishly condoning it because you "like meat," or "really couldn't live without cheese." Buy your own cow, put your own energy into it, and stop being part of this unhealthy system.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Consent
I no longer see any point in learning out loud.
Once, I stayed home on New Years Eve and read an entire collection of short stories because I was too afraid to ask for what I wanted.
My most valuable possession is the body that I am in. Someone may ask permission to look through my record collection, or to borrow a book, but has anyone ever asked permission to touch me? Is silence consent? "No," has always come with guilt. For me, it is denying your partner of pleasure, and therefore happiness.
These are failed, one sided relationships with no thoughts to each other's boundaries, abuse histories, or triggers.
I can easily recognize signs of abuse in others, but I never looked for them in myself. I'm scared of feeling out of control. I'm afraid to say no...Terrified of saying no.
Sex has far too long been about connection and a gateway into the life of a chosen partner. I am confusing my feelings with my longing for the inclusion and affirmation that come with being part of a community or a group of friends.
The next step is learning respect in my relationships: respect for myself and for the boundries of my partner. After all, If you can't be happy on your own, how can you be happy with somebody else?
Once, I stayed home on New Years Eve and read an entire collection of short stories because I was too afraid to ask for what I wanted.
My most valuable possession is the body that I am in. Someone may ask permission to look through my record collection, or to borrow a book, but has anyone ever asked permission to touch me? Is silence consent? "No," has always come with guilt. For me, it is denying your partner of pleasure, and therefore happiness.
These are failed, one sided relationships with no thoughts to each other's boundaries, abuse histories, or triggers.
I can easily recognize signs of abuse in others, but I never looked for them in myself. I'm scared of feeling out of control. I'm afraid to say no...Terrified of saying no.
Sex has far too long been about connection and a gateway into the life of a chosen partner. I am confusing my feelings with my longing for the inclusion and affirmation that come with being part of a community or a group of friends.
The next step is learning respect in my relationships: respect for myself and for the boundries of my partner. After all, If you can't be happy on your own, how can you be happy with somebody else?
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