If It's Messy, Eat it Over the Sink

There is a novel by Tom Robbins that I enjoy.  There are actually several. Actually, all of them. He has a wonderfully ribald (some would consider it obscene) and insightful way of viewing the world that he relates in beautifully playful prose. He's not everybody's cup of tea, but at one point in my life I devoured everything he wrote with great relish and always found myself wishing he would write more.

But I'm not just writing about a great author today. I'm going to write about the way great authors write things that find their way into everyday life, that are so true that we find them intruding in ways we could never have expected while we were reading their works in the first place.

Today is a snow today. No school for me, no school for the kids. CPAs, on the other hand, do not get snow days. Especially not during tax season. My wife is a CPA. Oh, I suppose if it snowed a couple of feet and wild yeti were wandering the highways in search of meals my wife might consider not going into work. But that hasn't happened yet.

I got up early this morning, before my wife. I came downstairs and caught up my Words With Friends and read Facebook statuses and played a game and figured out who had said what in a couple of my favorite forums. Then I realized I could be wonderful and fix my wife breakfast. Of course, by that time she was out of the shower and on her way downstairs. And she wasn't going to wait for traffic to make her morning drive just that more interesting. So she left. And I ended up making myself breakfast.

I fried two eggs hard, some ham, some cheese, toasted two slices of bread and sliced a tomato. Excellent breakfast sandwich. But messy. And that made me think of a character in a Tom Robbins novel, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. The character was something of a spoof on the wise Asian, the mentor, the advisor. But in Mr. Robbins wonderfully clever way, he was both a spoof and he wasn't. People thought he was crazy, but some people thought him wise, but he did outrageous things that made you wonder, and the best advice he offered the heroine in the novel was, "If it's messy, eat it over the sink."

When I read the novel at nineteen or twenty, I didn't get it. I thought Mr. Robbins was making a clever statement on the nature of advice given to people. It's generally useless, or so obvious that most people overlook it.

But this morning at 6:30 as I was eating my breakfast sandwich with the tomato juice running down between my fingers and the mayonnaise being squeezed out the sides and the bread slipping off one side and the ham off the other, I got it.

I realized that what he meant (or maybe just what I took from it, which is the same thing in the end) was that sometimes we encounter things in life that are worthwhile, that are good, that we need in our lives (like fried egg sandwiches with tomatoes). But the attainment of these things, the true enjoyment to be had from them, will not be easy. There might be consequences, there may be accompanying unpleasantness (tomato juice, mayonnaise). So all we can do is prepare ourselves as best we can (eat it over the sink) and go ahead and enjoy them anyway.

To take it a step further, maybe we even learn to enjoy the messy aspect. Maybe, if our minds and hearts are well-prepared, we accept the deliciousness of the sandwich and even enjoy the mess we make of ourselves while we eat it. We learn to enjoy the whole of the experience. We should learn to enjoy it all.

And that leads me to think that we as a society have worked so hard to divorce the two aspects of enjoyment that we have forgotten how to really enjoy things. Instead of just eating it over the sink, we invent a new kind of bread. Or we leave off the tomatoes. And then we forget how truly good something is.

So the next time I'm thinking about going camping and even before we begin I start dreading the clean-up and the putting away that must be done when we get home, I'll just eat it over the sink. So many experiences we might pass up, so many enjoyable things in life that we avoid because of an accompanying difficulty. I'm just going to eat it over the sink.

Finding Something to Say

Amazingly, I have nothing I really want to say this week. I'm finding it difficult to select a topic from the few that I have been considering, not because they are so fascinating, but because I can't generate enthusiasm sufficient to even make them interesting to me.

So I'm indulging myself in one of the oldest writer's tricks: when you have nothing to say, say it anyway. I always tried to get students to do this when they told me they couldn't think of anything to write.

"Just start writing," I'd say.

"I don't have anything to say," they'd say.

"So write that. Then write about why you don't have anything to say, or what is going on that is distracting you from writing, or just begin to write about your topic and how difficult it is to write anything on it. And when you reach that point, start writing about why it's hard to write about that topic." I think this may have even worked once or twice.

So I'm trying it.

I started to write about how I feel  I can't write about certain things I think or some beliefs I have. This is true. I can't. I'm looking for a job right now. This blog is public. I could possibly write something that may offend someone, or negatively influence my chances to get a position.

There are topics that must be avoided. I suppose this would be a good time to point out that all writing must take a potential audience into consideration. Audience.

But once I state that there are certain things I can't say, then I can't say much more about that. I have to demonstrate an ability to censor myself. This can be important in all social settings, and in all careers, but is crucial in teaching. So next topic.

I could revisit posts in the past about weather, and working. My younger brother and I worked down at the farm yesterday shoring up a sagging fence. I found that enjoyable. It was a beautiful day. We shored up a fence. But I didn't gain an epiphany from the experience.

My children and I have been running twice. Jackson is participating in Soul to Sole (or maybe it's Sole to Soul), so we had a program to keep over his spring break. Audra, my daughter, runs with us, although somewhat reluctantly. But I'm proud of how well she runs. She easily outpaced Jackson and I. But that hasn't really captured my imagination enough to allow me to run with the topic.

So I'll just jump from topic to topic, I guess. A compendium of experiences and not much deep thought.

I went to dinner with my family and my grandmother for her 96th birthday this past Saturday. She fell coming out of the restaurant. Tripped over a curb. Aside from some abrasions, though, she's okay. That's kind of amazing. She's amazing.

So much to write about, but so little ability on my part to invest experience with meaning. And this is something I really need to do. This makes my life worthwhile: the ability to reflect. I can feel the difference in myself when I am able to create meaning from experience. I'm happier. When I'm not reflecting, I'm not living. I'm just existing.

So this is my entry for this week. I hope by next week I'm back to living. I think exercise will help. I hope. I'm going to work on it. I will find something I want to say again.

Disjointed Thoughts on Writing

Writing well enough to satisfy other people has always been pretty easy for me.  I can sit down and hammer out a paper on just about any topic that will satisfy most expectations. I seem to be able to find a tone and an approach that will work.

This is not bragging. I don't really consider it a personal accomplishment any more than I consider breathing to be a personal accomplishment.  It's just something I do.

But now that I'm trying to do it on another level, I realize I'm now facing my harshest critic: myself. Rarely have I written something that completely satisfies me. I know what I'm trying to say, I can find the words, but when I put them on paper, they don't completely express my thoughts.

Writing the novel I've been working on has been, well...work. I can get the basics down, but the nuances are much more difficult.

I decided recently to self-publish my novel on Kindle in two parts or possibly as a trilogy. This decision means I am now editing the first part in anticipation of publication. I knew as I was writing that I would have to do some heavy editing. Now that I am going back over it, I'm picking it apart.

When I have written before, I have had a deadline. Now, I have no deadline. I can edit at my own pace. This has proven maddening. I change something then I change it back. Then I change it again, but that requires that I change several other things. Continuity in a work of this length is difficult.

I spend a good portion of my time editing. I've stopped writing new material for a bit in order to get this first portion out. As I substitute teach, I use "my" planning period to edit. I come home from school and edit. I cook dinner, eat, clean up, and then edit. I make sure the kids get in the bath and in bed on time and I edit. When my wife comes home, I talk to her for a bit, but when we sit down on the couch to watch television I edit. She goes to sleep and I edit.

The other day my children finished eating and my son sat down on the couch with me while I was editing. My son asked me what I was doing. I told him I was editing. He wanted to know what that meant, so I told him that there are many ways to say things, but usually only one best way. I'm trying to find the best way.

My daughter came downstairs and told me she had finished the first chapter of the book she was writing. Then she asked if I was editing. I said yes. My kids are hip to what I'm doing.

But I'm just writing a simple YA zombie novel. That doesn't mean it shouldn't be good. In addition to trying to write a good, engaging story, I'm also trying to do a few other things. I'm playing with Joseph Campbell's "Hero with a Thousand Faces" storyline. I'm doing an homage to Huckleberry Finn. I'm trying to depict the development of the young adult from ego-driven isolation into self-actualization as part of the whole.

Maybe I'm trying to do too much. That's why I can't be satisfied. But I think I'd rather shoot for something greater that the sum of its parts and fail than just hammer out something I think will sell.
But boy, I hope it does sell.

I've always wanted to be a writer. I'd like to make my living that way. Do I love writing? No, not really.  I love teaching. But right now that isn't working out for me. Writing is just something I can do.  Like breathing. So I probably should.

I Have Been Spat Upon

For the first time in my career as a teacher and substitute teacher, I have been spat upon.

The room I inhabited today is next to the water fountain.  I was standing in the hall outside the door prior to school starting.  A student was drinking from the fountain.  He saw me standing there.  He took a mouthful of water and deliberately spat on my crotch.

My first reaction, of course, was "He didn't really do that."  But I know the student.  He did.  He is a special needs child in middle school.  His interactions with me as a new authority figure in his world have all been fraught with exploration of behavioral boundaries.  I'm not really sure what in my demeanor suggested that spitting a mouthful of water on my crotch might be acceptable behavior.

My response, of course, was to let him know in no uncertain terms that this was not acceptable behavior.  He immediately apologized and offered me a hug.  He told me I needed a hug.  I stood firm.  I felt that he needed to understand that an infraction of that severity (although after my initial shock I wanted to laugh a little) went beyond "I'm sorry; here's a hug" reparation.

But I have limited education in how to best deal with a special needs child in this circumstance.  I turned him in to his primary teacher.

I can't leave the experience alone, though.  I have to take something away from it.  I want to apply the experience to every day interactions with all children.  Special needs children feel the same impulses and motivations that general population kids experience.  The testing of boundaries, the exploration of acceptable behaviors.  They may be more likely to act on impulses and less able to judge where the boundary lies, but the impulses are there.  General population kids will cover the spectrum on judgement and actions and behaviors.

Of course, the best response and policy is to leave no room for doubt in any child's mind where the boundaries lie.  They will test those boundaries, but the boundaries must remain consistent and enforced.  This will take care of most of the student population.

Then there are the others.  The students who need attention, who push the boundaries not to find out where they are, but to seek attention.  Even negative attention is better than no attention.  These students are problematic.  The issues and infractions committed must be addressed, but in a low-key manner.  When possible, the early signs of an attention-seeking behavior must be recognized.

I have always tried to redirect the student by finding a positive behavior to praise.  This, of course, can be difficult to do as a substitute.  Unfortunately, classroom management as a whole becomes more difficult.  Subbing several times can allow a substitute to develop a positive relationship that can be utilized in behavior control, but substitutes are often put in the position of enforcing acceptable behavior without that necessary relationship.  Substitutes are often subject to behavior built upon previous substitutes' management skills.

I hope I am never spat on again as a substitute or as a teacher.  But if it happens, I will be better equipped to deal with it.  I am happy that my response was more along the lines of "How do I best deal with this?" than "Somebody just spit on me!"  It's good to know that even in extreme circumstances, my responses are going to be considered rather than just an emotional knee-jerk reaction.