loose change

january is gone! it was a good month, a month for settling into things, a month to figure out how to lay the foundation for the year. it felt like a loooooong month. we’re back in a leap year! leap years have always felt kind of romantic to me even though i prefer the odd-numbered years. the wikipedia on leap years is so fucking hard to understand…surely there is a more accessible way to explain the phenomenon!

i’m writing outside next to the fire pit with my coffee. school was canceled today because of the storm this weekend, which swung west much quicker than forecasted and is now stalled over la county. it’ll rain later today but likely not enough to make a catastrophic difference. the foothills are covered in waterfalls this morning and the clouds are very high in the air, it isn’t warm but it’s not cold either. it’s an unjustified day off, but a day off nonetheless! i’m having a hard time setting an intention for the day and i’m hoping that writing helps.

a woman just pulled up to the coffee shop on a mini e-bike with a pet carrier attached to the handlebars. this tiny yellow bird is staring at me out of a plastic window. i’m dying to know what this bird is thinking. this is such a funny context in which to see a bird–the woman is leaving now and the bird is still just staring out his little see-through dome. imagine having wings and being confined to someone else’s wheels.

i wanted to note this annie ernaux passage from a girl’s story:

it is the absence of meaning in what one lives, at the moment one lives it, which multiplies the possibilities of writing.

the memory of what i have written is already fading. i do not know what this piece of writing is. even the thing i was pursuing by writing this book has dissolved. among my papers i found a sort of note of intent:

explore the gulf between the stupefying reality of things that happen, at the moment they happen, and, years later, the strange unreality in which the things that happened are enveloped.

the absence of meaning in what one lives, the desperation of trying to find meaning in or assign meaning to every interaction we have with the world and ourselves. writing in pursuit of the meaning, only to arrive elsewhere. writing tends to force memories into chronology, it wants to assign value where they may have been none, it begs for a climax and a resolve. the gulf! i wonder how long the road between reality and unreality is.

how many times can you write the same thing without remembering you’ve written it before? how many of the revelations i’ve arrived at through writing have already been realized by everybody else? am i just learning the same things on repeat? maybe my brain is evolving so constantly that i’m looking at the same situations with new eyes. it’s not to say that i’m not also learning new things, it’s more just–how many times can the same story be told in different words?

i had to stop writing for a little while because i wanted to try to get tickets to a show in june. there are few things that make me feel like i’m going to shit my pants the way that ticketmaster does. i consciously put a lot of unnecessary pressure on getting these tickets so when i failed to get them i felt like a double time Big Idiot: once for missing out on the tickets, and then again for being so hard on myself about it.

richard siken put the double time feeling really well, but more so in the context of loss: eventually something you love is going to be taken away. and then you will fall to the floor crying. and then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “i am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it–you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.

i’m trying to remind myself i have other assets! after giving up on the whole ticket endeavor i went for a little drive before returning to the coffee shop to continue writing. the privilege of Going For A Little Drive is not lost on me! what a blessed thing to be able to do.

i finally succumbed to a cold this weekend after four weeks of kids spreading their germs all over the classroom. on thursday afternoon at dismissal i was talking to a coworker about how miraculous it was that we’d not gotten sick yet, and on friday i woke up with the kind of sore throat that you can taste, and by saturday i accepted defeat. i feel really guilty about resting. i’m trying to reframe it, like: i’m lucky i can afford time to let my body recover and recharge when it needs to, but i’m really struggling to get there. i feel a little lazy and spoiled.

i was airing a similar inconsequential grievance last night to my mom. she said you need to do the one-year-five-year thing. is this gonna matter in a year? is it gonna matter in five? i’m only good at remembering the one-year-five-year thing in terms of making decisions, i.e. the will i regret doing this or will i regret not doing it? i always forget it in terms of mattering! these feelings probably won’t even matter in a week, let alone a year. moving past it.

the fifth graders at school are learning about the universe. they came into my classroom at lunch on thursday with all of their newfound Big Ideas about it: miss mosby what if there is another universe? with people in it? what if there are aliens in another universe but they’re actually robots? do you think that there are other dimensions? every time the fifth graders come into my room i’m inundated with questions big and small. i love being unable to answer their own questions. i love their reactions when they find out that i don’t Know Everything. i think that they trust me more because of it.

other things i’ve been thinking about include but are not limited to:

– pictures and picture-taking

– the venn-diagram between disney adults and stanley cup owners and taylor swift superfans and costco membership holders (and whether or not this thought is inherently bitchy and judgmental of me to consider)

-spelling dessert wrong (desert) three times in a row before sam corrected me

-tracy chapman at the grammy’s

-what my dog is thinking about

-the east coast (especially the east coast in these liminal winter months)

-instagram comedians and whether or not they fall under the category of influencers

-the fine line in the western world between manifestation and white privilege

i’ve also been thinking about creating community and how much easier this is made by finding a routine, and how committing to a routine instills confidence, and how you can connect with other people by doing things for yourself. i like how much community is fostered in Places You Go Habitually. every time i go to swim i build a little more rapport with the lifeguards and the regulars, every time i come to the coffee shop i feel a little more welcomed, every time i visit little dom’s i feel a little more loved.

i have a lot of laundry to do today. i really hope i do it. i’ve put it off for too long of a time. i’ve spent a really long time writing and i’ve not really stayed on track, i’m not feeling super grounded in anything but i’m happy to have gotten the words on the page. i was really looking forward to writing this week, which felt cool–there was no question in my mind that a monday piece would be written, making it kind of an official installment in my life now. i think that this is the tenth one! which means i have 42 mondays left to fulfill my goal for the year. given how quickly the time has passed during these first ten, 42 doesn’t feel like very many.

i had a brief conversation with the principal this past week about instilling confidence into my students. my ability to uplift these kids is more important than any academic benchmark they’ll reach this year. the good thing is that it’s easy to do. i’m moved to tears every single time one of them comes up to me to present their work before they’re finished: ms. mosby, this is my first cursive z! and i’ll say wow raf, it looks absolutely gorgeous. and i’m not lying. or they’ll say ms. mosby look at the drawing i did! and i’ll tear up and say it’s absolutely perfect and thank you so much for coming to show me!

i became fixated on coloring this past week–i printed out new coloring pages for my students and stole one for myself; i opened a fresh box of colored pencils and colored the exact same way i used to as a kid. i outline the edges of everything really solidly and then color the inside really lightly. the kids were obsessed.

one of the girls was mesmerized, and every time she would see a new detail added she would say miss MOSBY it just looks amazing! i wish i could color like that. and i said well i think you maybe can! it might just take a little practice first. and this is all unfolding, what felt to me like a big conversation, and she said i’m just nervous, i don’t want to try. and i asked her what she was afraid of, and she said she didn’t want to mess it up and not like it. and i told her i totally get that–you don’t have to try until you’re ready! but i also drew a really simple five-petal flower, and i told her maybe it would be a good place to start.

and i watched, fascinated, as she stuck her tongue out in focus and white-knuckled this pencil and pressed it down as hard as she could on the outline, and then practiced holding it lightly, shading the inside, creating the fine-line distinction. she pulled her pencil away after one petal and shrieked. i did it!!!!! i can color like you!

there are moments like this every single day in this job–tiny little moments that arise when you’re least expecting them–that impact me so significantly i think i might carry them with me for as long as i’m alive. i am floored by the magic that exists in this world, and by the little beings that teach me about it. it is such a privilege to look somebody in the eye and tell them how proud you are of them and watch it resonate as their eyes light up. i told this girl exactly that. i told her i would remember her first flower petal, and that i would remind her of it if she ever felt nervous to try something new again.

it’s evening now; almost 8:30. i stopped writing at around one o’clock and came home to begin the overdue process of cleaning and laundry. it was a slow start but i kept moving. it felt like i was holding my own hand through it. i struggle so much to clean once i’ve let it get past a certain point–it’s almost like self-punishment–like you’ve let it get this far, you deserve to live in discomfort.

thankfully i received a phone call from a dear friend about 45 minutes into it, and we spent the next three hours catching up while i set almost everything in order. i think one of my favorite parts about existing is catching up over the phone. when we hung up i came out of my room to talk to my mom–a lot of the things that came up on the phone with k just felt so out of my depth, like adulthood, like life tapping you on the shoulder and reminding you that there’s always something.

but at the same time i had, my mom got a phone call from a friend she’d not spoken to in a while, regarding another of her close friends she’s not spoken to since october–we used to see her frequently, especially when i was growing up. she’s dying. it seems imminent. my mom couldn’t speak. i didn’t know what to say. there’s not much that can be done–she was airlifted from lone pine to the icu in reno, farther than a quick drive away. at the same time that i was feeling the weight of adulthood, of life, she was experiencing the fragility of it in real time. i’m finishing this week’s writing in the living room, on the couch between our dogs. we’re sitting in silence, but we’re together.

i want to begin to close the piece with words of wisdom from annie last night, as i was going to bed: i think it’s a privilege to know someone deeply, especially when they’re not at peak performance…so much easier said than done but remember who you are is enough.

i feel lucky to be surrounded with people who are so full of advice and compassion and wisdom. i feel lucky that when i struggle to find love within myself i can find it in my friends in family. maybe all we should really strive for in life is to love and be loved.

and finally, i wanted to end with a note about chris potter, a renowned local artist and friend and inspiration, who passed away this weekend after surviving an aggressive and rare form of cancer for three years. chris had been a friend of my mom’s through the art community when i was a kid, and when he was diagnosed, was selected to be the friendship paddle beneficiary in 2022. i was lucky enough to capture the landing on film, and snapped this picture of chris and my brother kevin connecting amidst the celebration.

chris was the kind of human whose soul felt ages older than he was, whose impact on this community will remain for an unquantifiable amount of time. everybody was shocked at his passing. just four days prior, he was auctioning off a painting in support of a young girl with cancer. chris took all of the love he was given and all of the support surrounding him and threw it back out at the world as an offering. he pursued his passions and in doing so inspired others to pursue theirs; he valued art, he found meaning, he was brave, he received love humbly and he treated the world with an innate kindness that is found in too few.

a lot of real world emotions today! a lot of reminders of the importance of love, of big love, a lot of reasons to be thankful, a lot of people to thank. a lot of life to keep living. i’m happy i wrote today. thank you for reading, again.

until next monday–

r