it's a typical situation in these typical times

too many choices...

In this case, it's been too many choices in tragedies this week. I did not especially want to start out the blog this way. I was thinking in my mind that I would write about mindless thoughts that had been flitting about in my brain for too long, and then edge in the whining. However, I find myself in a class where I have a hard time listening to the instructor, so it sort of just blurted out, and true to my established sense of writing in this way, I hate to delete anything. (unless it's a spelling or grammar mistake... then I'm duty bound to change those)

That demands a bit of background, so maybe I will ramble for a bit. 

I normally LOVE class and learning and studying of any kind, but this teacher on this night (I realize this will be date stamped, but I cannot bring myself to care... for the sleuths who may realize who this is) lost my respect early in the semester. commence whining The very first night, he only kept us for about 20 minutes, but I could excuse that as it was first. Too soon, though, I would see this was more foretelling. He has canceled or failed to really teach anything reliably every Monday. I would not even mind this so much, except for the fact that I break my neck to get to school on time as it is, and to sit here week after week and feel like my time is being wasted is frustrating. He assigns a ridiculous amount of work, and has yet to grade anything. When he does talk, it holds no bearing on the work for the grades... This disappoints me all over again just thinking it to write it.

I could go on, but I think it would be lousy to spend my time blogging in this class I care not for by writing the whole time about it. The semester is almost over though, and I can chalk it up to a lesson learned. If nothing else, I have a great model of what kind of teacher I do not want to be.

Last Monday, on one of my said break neck journeys to Memphis, the semi in front of me had a blow out. Before I even realized anything...

You know what, I don't want to recount these details again and again. I've done it dozens of times at this point, and I don't feel any better about the week having spoken it. Why waste blog space? Surely when I go back and read this years later, I'll recall how crummy of a week this was without having to recall specifics and all the gory details.

Suffice it to say, it was draining. Instead, I will try to describe how I feel, and maybe that will help.

I feel full, overflowing even. Don't ask me of what. I have been hard pressed to define it for a week now. The things going on around me are not that awful, actually, at least not for me directly. There has just been awfulness around me that I cannot seem to shake. I have realized over the last year or so that people gravitate toward me for conversation. Well, not conversation, but just to get things off their chest. I seem to have a gift for listening objectively and people feel better for it. Then, in most cases, I dismiss it and go on with my life. End of story. They feel better, I go on with my life. Everyone wins.

A change has happened in me though, and it has been gradual. I somehow end up feeling on behalf of these people. regardless of if they ask or not. I mean, really feeling. I noticed and identified this early in October while at my friend Betsy's funeral. I sat there, looking at her family and her daughter, thinking about her son, just born, and I was overcome with sadness and hurt for these people. I know what you are thinking... and it was not just because of the inevitably sad country gospel music playing. I was a  sustaining sad. It stayed for days. I wasn't sad for the potential to my own life, but for these people. I was not especially close to Betsy anymore. Of course I was sad, but we had not really done anything together since I was in middle school. There was no great hole in my life because of this. But I was sad for her husband, who very much DID have a hole. I know that hole. I have experienced it. It broke my heart that someone else, even though I did not particularly know him, was having to feel that feeling.

I know what you might think... that's wonderful and nice. People should be that way. Sure. But I've never been that way. I did not make any conscious efforts to be that way. I was just sitting there listening to some crappy music and had this epiphany came over me.

It did not stop there. Once identified, I noticed this in lots of places in my life. By the time, a month later, I began my week from hell, I had even learned to recognize it.

Sure, I was a bit distraught when I cried while watching Transformers 2. I never, NEVER cry at movies, but I couldn't stop this. It looked so sad when they were airlifting Optimus Prime. I even cried later at during my second viewing of the Time Traveler's Wife.... and I even knew what was going to happen. I spent days reflecting (SPOILER ALERT) on the injustices of time travel and how it was awful, the paradox that the situation that allowed the guy to meet his wife was the same situation that would cause his untimely death. That was just sad.


So, later on, when I learned of the children who would now be fatherless because of the tragedy of depression and suicide. I cried with recognized hurt for this family. I named it and I went on... okay, I didn't completely go on. I knew this guy, and I berated myself somewhat that someone around me could be suffering so and I be completely oblivious. How self absorbed I must be, I felt. But that wasn't what made me sad, it was the hurt of the other people.

Oh.. the teacher just said that Jesus disturbs our comfortable illnesses.... maybe that's what's going on with me. (there's bound to be some reason that sentence stood out)... but back to purging my thoughts...

I keep trying to figure out why I have this and what I need to do with it. When I think that, I have a few ideas.... Perhaps it is time I tear down these walls I've built to keep things at a safe distance. I know I have. I did it consciously years ago. I heard this one devotional once that I cannot seem to shake. I didn't even take notes on it, and it has pestered me ever since.... the point was that as great of a feeling as it is to help people... sometimes we have be the ones willing to accept help... I heard here, admit that we need help...

That is a tough one for me. I HATE the thought that I cannot do something on my own. It seems to me to be the ultimate affront... guess that's no coincident that I have run into situations now in all aspects of my life where I cannot do everything I need to do alone.

and now the class is over.