In Medias Res
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Cappy" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
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09:33 am
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Two Lines on Sleepless Nights
I hate waking in the middle of the night.
It means going to bed alone all over again.
Cross-posted in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) 2_lines.
Current Mood:  listless
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05:22 pm
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Two Lines on February 14th, 2007
Today is the 14th of February.
Tomorrow will be better.
Cross-posted in 2_lines
Current Mood: okay
Tags: poetry, two lines
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09:24 pm
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Steel Standing
Planted. Ankle-deep in concrete, But nothing’s harder than my heart. There’s something proud about rust – Like telling the rain “Looks don’t matter; Appearances can be deceiving.” I am the coldest red. Colder than the long winter’s night Cold for being lone And prone… You couldn’t hope to build with me, So you build on me. I carry so much. If Isaiah’d known better, He wouldn’t be set like flint. He’d be set like me: Steel. Standing.
Current Mood:  smoldering
Current Music: DMX's "Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood"
Tags: poetry
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06:02 pm
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Days Go Passing into Years
I don't know that it profits me much to look back on this year that has passed, even if New Year's Eve is the perfect occasion to do so. Doubtless I'd find too much fault in my last tour 'round the Sun, to go with missed opportunities and so much squandered potential. For that is my way, after all - never yielding in moments of self-doubt and self-pity. No, it is quite enough to say that precious little progress on my three principle goals has been made in this past year. We'll have to leave it there.
And so my eyes are cast forward, toward the coming 365-day marathon set to commence this evening. In desperate times, the temptation is always there to get out to a fast start, to cover as much ground early as possible in expectation that fatigue and other setbacks are impossible to anticipate. This, I think, is why folks take to their resolutions with such vigor in January and February, but cannot make them last into the Spring.
This new year, then, I shall take a different tack. I will not set some lofty goal only to wear myself out in its pursuit. Rather, I take balance as my mission. For one year, may the highs not be so precarious and may the lows not sink too deep. Let us be level, even, measured. Let us make progress one, small terrestrial revolution at a time.
Here's to the new year, may she be a damn sight better than the last.
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07:23 pm
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One Time is Never Enough
This isn't like the last one. Last time, it was one of my students only insofar as they were all my students. I never even met Altagracia Valenzuala, and the only time I saw her was when she was lying in state the night of the wake. And, yeah, the sight of her so eerily still was troubling and saddening, but mainly owing to all those theoretical reasons about what a shame it is for a young person to die. This one is different. This one is personal.
I call her Bootz because that's what she wanted, and how could a guy named Cappy turn down such a request? Most folks know her as Jessica, including, presumably, the doctors and nurses treating her for the Hodgkin's Lymphoma that's attacking her lungs...again.
A colleague, Keller, found me and a few other teachers in the lounge after school today. The cancer was written all over her face, though I waited ten seconds for Keller's word's to catch up with her expression before hurling my supposedly indestructible Nalgene bottle into the floor, fracturing the lid. What my response lacked in maturity I certainly made up for in passion. I don't think there are any doubts about where I stand - not in the minds of my colleagues and decidedly not in my own.
I missed Bootz' first round with cancer, which apparently took her mostly out of commission last year. Now she's in the dogfight once more and already I am on the warpath, coming down the mountain, loaded for bear. There will be phone calls, and visits, and more prayers than God can count. And if more still is required, then that too will be provided. This is my Bootz, and this time won't be at all like the last one.
This story has a happy ending.
Current Mood: determined
Tags: teaching
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11:02 pm
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Love, True Love
Because it is important to own up to our biases, I will claim my own at the top. Boston College blew a classic "trap game" down in Winston-Salem this evening and I'm a little jaded. Oh, how the outcome of a child's game does wreak havoc on my psyche.
My dear friend Vic is now hitched, too. It was a lovely ceremony, if a little schmaltzy, and doubled as a great opportunity to run aground of faces I have gone far too long without seeing. Just as important - perhaps more so in the cosmic scheme of things - is that Vic married a cat, Sam, whom she's obviously in love with and who loves her right back with equal measure. Often during the wedding and reception I found myself thinking of how little cause I'll have to ever worry over Vic again. She'll be well looked after for the rest of her days. That is a comforting thought.
Vic and Sam's nuptials make love, true love, seem possible. This was a wedding that makes you believe, makes you believe that two people really can find each other in this topsy-turvy world. That's not something I can say of all the weddings I've attended, but it applies to the best ones. Why couldn't the same happen for me? Vic and Sam made love seem not just possible, but even likely. That's the message I'll take from this weekend's festivities.
And yet, I reserved just enough room for doubt - had to, really. The reality - brought into sharp relief not just by Vic and Sam, but also by any number of other couples in attendance at their wedding - is that I'm well off the pace. That's not to say I should be hitched or even engaged by now. I just should be a step or two further along than I am. I should at least have prospects. At least, that was another thought at the front of my mind this past weekend.
I mulled it over enough to moot this other, more terrifying thought - first to myself on the drive from Sacramento back to San Francisco and then again, in public, with my friend Leslie at breakfast this morning. "What if it just never happens for me?"
Current Mood:  worried
Current Music: Rascal Flatts' "Bless the Broken Road"
Tags: love, weddings
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10:02 pm
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When the Chips are Down
You know things aren't going your way when you're 2-10 against the spread in this week's NFL action. My record this year is just plain unsightly, and I've reached the point where I know I'd be better off just enjoying the games instead of evaluating them based on their relative gambling merits. Of course, if I bowwed out now it would only be an admission of failure, and being chicken would cost me just as much sleep as being stupid is currently. Damn my pride.
Would that my prognosticating was the only thing amiss these days. It's not, of course. It's just the failure with the most statistical evidence to cite.
Yesterday, I played terribly and picked worse. And rather than shake both off, I decided to weave them into a larger fabric of failure. I'm a creature of confidence, after all, and yesterday it felt as though I hadn't anything - not one damn thing - on which to hang my hat. So I hanged my head instead - in shame. It all fit the narrative perfectly: "Of course I played poorly and of course I was way off on my picks, because I'm no good." Or rather, "I'm not enough." It was not a happy conclusion - far from it - but it was the one that made sense.
The same tired story played itself out today, too. Class was just awful; something was missing. The kids alternated between being disrespectful and completely flat, and I was almost wholly unable to steer the ship between those two shores. But the worst of it was how totally unsurprising it all was, like I simply expected things to go awry. Prepared for that reality, I knew exactly who to fault when it actually did come to pass, too.
I really need a lucky break - quite desperately, actually. Though I've most definitely been bailed out of tighter binds than this, never before have I so desired my rescue. I wish I could say I knew it was forthcoming.
Current Mood:  distressed
Tags: deep thoughts, football
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10:07 pm
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Illin'
The art of writing, I am now convinced, will be dead inside of two generations. Perhaps some good ink will still be spilt in the next century, but most pages will be marred beyond recognition by informality, carelessness, and eroding standards. I am not usually given to such bleak prophecies, but having spent the last several hours grading papers, I can only conclude that the written word's end is near. Oh, the humanity!
The deathblow, I fear, was this blasted internet, which blended the written word and the spoken word so as to make one indistinguishable from the other. We have, as a species, instant messaged ourselves into idiocy, where we write just the same as we speak. It is all so forgetful of the power of the written word, which inspires, in part, because it must be wielded, not merely used.
There is still more grading to be done, though the lion's share of the essays have been put to rest. I simply had to call it quits tonight, though, owing to the fact that reading these papers was making me feel physically ill. It was Kevin Newsome, a Junior smarter than he lets on, who struck the deciding blow. "When you get married," he writes, "there are marriage vowels that you are supposed to respect and live by while you are married (Emphasis Added)."
Yes, writing will soon be dead. I think I shall miss it.
Current Mood: stressed
Tags: teaching
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12:20 am
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All In
The early returns on my new gig as a religion teacher at Bishop McNamara High School are overwhelmingly positive. My students this time around are far and away more academically prepared and curious - perhaps owing to the fact that they were not reared in a relative war zone. True, I am busier now than I ever have been at previous stops, having neither written a letter nor cracked a book since I took the job. But I don't mind making the extra efforts because I feel like I am actually becoming a better teacher. It's a remarkably good fit for all the strange circumstances surrounding the hire.
If I were to make one complaint, though, it would be that I have yet to feel like I am making an impact on my students beyond the classroom. At Saint Mary's, my first stop, My Girls opened their lives to me much more than their minds, but there was still something strangely fulfilling about that seeming imbalance. In Palestine the language barrier was profound, but the kids were mostly starving for affection and it didn't seem to matter that they didn't understand a word I said. Here, though, I'm feeding the minds - force-feeding in some cases - but not quite diving into the rest of the sundry hallmarks of teenage existence.
Until today.
Her name is Katie, and she's one of my favorites. She knows it, too, which is a bit of a surprise but still not objectionable. Katie's bright - real bright - and confident, and quick with the wit as well. She's in the school play, she's got some dear friends, and she smiles most of the time. Katie also made an attempt at suicide this past August - something she revealed to me today almost matter-of-factly.
Not that I have a list recorded somewhere, but as an educator part of my job is to keep an eye out for red flags flown by the kids as evidence of deep-seated pain. There are a few already that jump out, though Katie certainly wasn't one of them. Our conversation this afternoon was, well, powerful. Owing to some of my own troubled family history, I feel confident that I responded to Katie with that perfect combination of respect, and gravitas, and curiosity, and care that the revelation required. I think I did my job well, though the day's work won't be officially concluded until I drop to my knees in prayer for her tonight.
I'm in, though, which is what's more. Even if this is the only kid and even if it happens to be these overwhelmingly painful circumstances, I'm in.
Deal the next card.
Current Mood: okay
Tags: teaching
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12:22 am
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Moonlight Mile
For the record, I'm stripping this evening of any and all romantic overtones; which means the trail wasn't secluded, the moonlight wasn't breathtaking, and she wasn't so damn lovely.
Current Mood:  confused
Tags: girls
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11:42 pm
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Two Lines on My Birthday
I turned 26 today.
Thank God that's over with.
Cross-posted in 2_lines.
Current Mood: beat
Tags: poetry, two lines
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09:45 pm
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Know When to Hold Them
This is not at all the choice I expected to make, largely because these are not the options I figured I'd have.
I spent much of the day out at McNamara High School, shuttling around through interviews with a principal, a president, and a Theology department chair. Mixed in between was a brief stint inside a living, breathing class, which I requested as a sort of means by which I could interview the school. All in all it was something of a whirlwind of excellent conversations. I think I acquitted myself well, at least as concerns my philosophy of teaching, my style, and my views on the unique responsibilities of a religion teacher. But then my bark has never been much in doubt.
The real issue, what I went to McNamara to find out, was whether or not I could feel like a real teacher again as it pertains to the classroom. When the interview offer was extended at the tail end of last week, my very first reaction was a strange reluctance - strange because it flew in the face of all I've been saying of late about wanting to be a productive member of society and wanting again to teach religion. You'd think that, when offered both those things, I'd jump at the chance. But the fact is I didn't; the fact is I doubted. Not for any cause, of course, but then I've never needed a good reason to doubt myself.
Some of the doubts have been assuaged. The most important one being the sense I had while visiting the class, the sense that these kids really are ready to plug in and that I could engage them. In fact, all the while I was sitting there I kept evaluating the angles: where I'd steer the conversation, what I'd say in response to that question, the jokes I'd crack at the right moment. Some of that timing - the rhythm - came back. You can take a teacher out of the classroom...
And then, waiting in my inbox at home, was my letter of acceptance to Weston - the far safer, if more expensive, option. I really do hold all the cards. I guess I just wish someone would force my hand.
Current Mood:  pensive
Tags: teaching
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08:03 am
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Rock and Roll
The Park Service calls it the Billy Goat Trail, on account of the fact that most of the way is an obstacle course's worth of giant granite boulders and rock formations. It's no walk in the park, but it is a ton of fun to navigate, which is why the Billy Goat Trail is one of my all-time favorites and one of the reasons I went cruising there yesterday.
The other reasons, of course, were cabin fever - owing to a very rainy weekend - and angst - owing to girls, employment opportunities, and other things that go bump in the night.The thought was that I could work out resolutions to some of these outstanding issues while bounding from stone-to-stone. That or at least get a good cardio workout.
The latter goal earned a "mission accomplished," as I took the trail in 30:31, a pretty respectable mark considering the same path took me thrice the time when I walked it with my cousin a few weeks back. At the same time - because it was Labor Day Weekend and the park was crawling with families trying to coax their 7 year-olds over, under, and through the rocks - I know there's room for improvement. I totally could have broken the 30-minute mark if only I hadn't been so careful to avoid crushing little children's extended digits. Apologies would have killed my time had I not shown such care.
As for peace of mind, there was precious little of it to be had outside the half-hour's hike. Last night ranks as one of the worst night's sleep in recent memory. Maybe I need to lay out a series of rock formations between the door and my bed. Or maybe I just need to quit worrying about it.
Current Mood: restless
Tags: travel
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12:13 pm
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Those Who Forget History...
Listen up, Chirs, and forget what you think you know!
That vibe you thought you were catching last night was fiction. It wasn't real. I repeat, it wasn't real. She's something of a natural flirt, after all, and she pulled it off last night only because she's supremely comfortable in your company - something which took you years to secure and which you once, previously, nearly squandered in a moment. Would you like to relive that episode? Think you've got the stomach for it now? Trust me, you don't. You really don't.
These are the facts, and they are not disputed.
Current Mood: harried
Tags: girls
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11:56 pm
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Blast From the Past
I was young once. Vibrant, too. And I was an integral part of a special community to boot. Somewhere in all the real work experience, international travel, and desperate loneliness, I lost track of the fact that, once, I was a college student and those were some great years.
Nothing like an official Seattle University Alumni mixer, then, to jog the memory. There were some folks I hadn't seen in a year, many out of the picture since graduation, and still others I never thought I'd see again. But there we all were, in the basement dining area of a chic tapas restaurant, sparking all manners of nostalgic waxing.
In the crowd was Beth Barsotti, a fellow Theology major with whom I shared the famed "Historical Sequence" - three courses in consecutive quarters tracing Christian thought from Paul through the 20th Century. Last I saw of Beth was the very last of those classes a full four years ago, but we managed to pick up right where we left off.
Our conversation was a healthy mix of trading stories and gossiping about past classmates. Included were some fantastic revelations about my old "nemesis," Heather Reynolds, who apparently went to Union Theological Seminary in New York, became an atheist, got a gig in construction, and now goes by the name "Heath." I want to say this is all strange and unimaginable, but I know all too well the kind of motley crew we merry Theology majors were. Somehow this was perfectly keeping in character. Lord knows the kind of tales one could spin about my life since graduation.
Sprinkled into our chat Beth paid me a pretty profound compliment. Something to the effect of how she misses the kind of Theologically-charged conversation that was had in our classes, even if she was never "on my level" - her words. Considering it for a moment, that rates as some of the highest praise ever offered to me and certainly more valuable than the similar sentiments of my professors. It just meant a ton coming from a peer.
But that is why these alumni gatherings are so worthwhile. Reflected in the faces of those with whom I shared four especially formative years is a passing image of the kid I once was. It is an altogether pleasant picture.
Current Mood:  chipper
Tags: friends
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06:13 pm
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School Daze
Apparently it is not at all that difficult to talk your way into graduate school - even if you've never taken the GREs!
At least that's the gist of my visit with the admissions counselor ar the Weston Jesuit School of Theology. It was, what one might call, a "penetrating" interview. And I think I acquitted myself well on important things like knowledge of the school, understanding of the Jesuit tradition, and admission processes in general. I even managed a few inside, theological quips in my 45 minutes, which I like to think scored me bonus points of some sort. Judging by the fact that I secured a second interview with the director of admissions - and the fact that he wants to see my resume and transcript - I'd say I made a very good impression and could be a graduate student in as little as a month's time.
The "if" hanging on the end of all this, though, is money, mulah, dough, funds, papers, ends, dead presidents. Because to be a grad student is an expensive proposition, and putting it off to the last minute is even more expensive. Weston might very well accept me but they certainly weren't expecting me, which means they blew all their aid money on other students a long while back. If I was hoping to see any help this year, someone has to die in a horrible car crash - pronto!
But of course it's a tad impolite to hope someone gets mangled in a multi-car accident, so I'm left with the more terrifying and personal tragedy of loans - lots of loans - at least for the first year. Frankly, I'm not all that sure this is something I want to do. And, in all humility, I'm a serious enough candidate that I shouldn't have to pay my way through graduate school anyway. Certainly I wouldn't have to if I sucked it up, waited a year, and applied the old fashioned way this winter.
If I pushed for enrollment next month, it pretty well amounts to paying 30-large for the right to skip out on the GREs. I don't know that I'm ready to cut that check, so I'm back where I started.
Current Mood: melancholy
Tags: office space
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09:27 pm
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War is Hell
Cousin Chris, one of my many aliases, began his weeklong stint as steward for a preteen today, and we started off with a bang at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. This choice came as a last minute substitution for the Museum of Natural History, and only after my Cousin Gio's disappointment that the exhibit on "Western Cultures" featured nary a cowboy. Yes, we learned a great many lessons this afternoon.
The scouting report on the Museum of American History tipped us off to many of its own fine pieces and collections. The hefty corner on jazz looked particularly appealing, especially in light of recent additions like Miles Davis' jacket and Ray Charles' sunglasses. Even more interesting was the temporary feature on Jim Henson's Muppets. Try as I might, though, I couldn't steer my 12 year-old cousin away from an exhibit on the history of American warfare from the Revolution through the current debacles in Iraq and Afghanistan. Personally, I fault the picture of the Huey helicopter in the official Smithsonian literature. How can I be expected to compete with that?
And here's the kicker: the exhibit's title was "The Price of Freedom." That noise you hear is the sound of me throwing up in my mouth at the mere recollection of it.
Predictably, there was a lot of glitz and glamour associated with conflict running throughout, except at the end where space was made for poignant reminders of September 11th. I guess the museum curators decided to gloss over some of the uglier realities of war. There was, for instance, no "History of Field Amputation" in the Civil War section of the hall. I checked. And the Mexican-American War, Spanish-American War, and slaughter of the Native Americans were all lumped together as "Wars of Expansion." I might have gone with "Senseless Wars of Theft," but that's not a title fit for the History Channel, I guess.
At the end of the exhibit was a nine-minute short, featuring quotes from soldiers who had fought in one war or another. I don't recall any of the exact phrasings - though bits of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address made the cut - but the message was clear: War brings out the noblest in its participants.
I was near tears throughout - though not at all for the reasons the film's producers were expecting.
Current Mood:  sick
Tags: deep thoughts
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05:37 pm
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Perfect Strangers
Yeah, I was totally attracted to her, but the real story is that managed to keep my trap shut about it.
Her name was Shim. Actually, her parents named her Eileen, but everyone calls her Shim - a state of affairs a guy named Cappy can well understand. Shim's probably the most intelligent and well-spoken young woman I've ever met, and if not she's a cinch for the top-three. She's fit, too, a collegiate soccer player and a football fan. Like me, Shim was born and raised in Our Nation's Capital, Washington D.C. And, yes, she was an aesthetically pleasing young woman, too. I was pretty well hooked after the hour-long ride up to Blue Ridge two weeks ago.
But the whole attraction was futile, doomed from the start. Shim is literally a month out of a pretty messy break-up after almost six years seeing this ex. Understandably, even a cheap date is not a high priority. Even if it was, I don't know that Shim would've taken me up on the offer. We got along just fine and seemed to have similar humors, but I lead with the heart and Shim leads with the head - fodder for plenty of miscommunication. And let us not forget: chicks don't dig me.
Over the course of the past two weeks, the budding attraction almost effortlessly grew into something of a distraction, especially in these past days when the great internal debate was whether or not to spill the beans about the whole thing. Opportunities abounded, and I dutifully fought them all off. Last night, for instance - fully aware that Shim was heading home on the morrow - I even called in a favor from the Big Guy upstairs.
Dusting off an old trick employed by Medieval monks and re-dubbed "Bible Roulette" by some of my fellow Family Retreat staffers, I flopped open the good book just before bedtime and planted my finger on a random passage on a random page, looking for a definitive answer to the "should-I-or-shouldn't-I" query. What I got was Proverbs 10:18-20, including the choice line: "When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but the prudent are restrained in speech." So at least it wasn't terribly ambiguous.
I drove Shim home today and shared a rather unceremonious farewell. I did keep my mouth shut, though that probably didn't matter much in the scheme of things. This goodbye sure felt like forever.
Current Mood: relieved
Tags: faith, girls
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11:21 am
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Two Lines on Driving
Whenever I get behind the wheel of a car,
I think about just how great a fighter pilot I could have been.
Cross-posted in 2_lines.
Current Mood: excited
Tags: laughs, poetry, two lines
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01:35 pm
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Rolling in Dough
I just got back from an afternoon trip to the hood, where I visited the local Giant to make use of their Coinstar machine - converting the contents of my change jar into cold hard cash. (Actually, it's not really a coin jar. It's an old Pringle's can retrofitted into an Aquacadet fundraising vehicle by my wingman Jeff Ra. It serves the same function, though.) This was a particularly prosperous outing, netting $91.36 for an instant deposit into the First Cappy National Bank, i.e. my wallet. Now the only question is where to spend these big bucks.
In other news, I just stuck a parallel parking job for the ages.
Current Mood:  flush with cash
Tags: laughs
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