I am not for sure whether getting an annual sunburn to initiate summer is in fact a southern cultural tradition but it is one that this southerner would like to shake. Yes, I am recovering from my annual self-inflicted sunburn and am not liking it one bit. Why it is that this seems to happen every year at about this time is beyond me. I like to think I am a rational person and intelligent enough to throw on some sunscreen to keep this from happening; but, no, didn't do it and now I am suffering through sleepless nights with the sensation that my skin may in fact peel off of my body leaving only muscle and bone.
With all that said, it was a 3:30 am this morning, awake from the sunburn blues, that I thought, "what other lessons has this trip home presented me with?" Here are a couple that you all can take or leave as you wish:
1. There ARE things that are more important than others and we all need to realize what those are in our own lives. Personally, I think throwing around a baseball and frisbee with my family (events that I'll cherish always) is ranked higher, by far, over finishing up whatever books I had scheduled for the day...
2. I need to step back more often, be still, and consider how blessed I am. Not that everything in life is great; but, come on TCH, its pretty good.
3. Absence really can make the heart grow fonder. Enough said.
TCH
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
The fall can hurt when you're cruising an emotional high...
Over the past several months, I have seen several emotional highs: passing comps, taking a life-altering trip to Guatemala, submitting a couple of pieces for publication, and working on a new relationship. Many of these "highs" have had counterpart "lows": not getting enough professional work accomplished, seeing a publication rejected, and ending a relationship. As a good friend, and several "life philosophers" have been all to ready to advise: its not so much about the fall, but the getting up that counts. Recently, I have been feeling a sense of real personal peace with my attempts to get back up when life has knocked me down. Thanks, Tom Petty. I find myself smiling for no apparent reason as I run along my paths here in Athens, attempting to make peace when the waitress is about and hour-and-a-half late with my party's food order, and thinking that there is some truth to the fact that life can and often does seem to matter a lot more when you have someone with whom you want to share the mundane and often stupid things that happen to make up our everyday existence.
My most recent stupid event: Running along, as most of you know I do, I cross Baxter (in a break of insanely busy traffic) and assume the nice sidewalk pace I had set before crossing. It was just a great afternoon for running. I had just finished reading a book that I had been putting off reading because I had to submit a review for it the next day or so and I had just finished laughing (out loud) about a very funny scene in the Charlie Brown Christmas movie when Sally writes a letter to Mary Christmas (a.k.a. Mrs Clause) praising her for her feminist leanings and keeping her surname. As I resumed pace, it happened: my right shoe gets hung in an expanded left shoe lace hoop and down I go. In my own words that particular members of my family find quite funny, "I just went down." Clearly not my first fall, there's a popularized saying about it for a goat's sake, I knew how to handle it although this fall was rather abrupt and unexpected. Left knee catches the full force (still swollen, not broken, I think) hands catch the rest of the momentum as I roll of to the side and into a fraternity house's side lawn. Well, there you have it: the fall can hurt when you're cruising an emotional high.
Thankfully, I learned the lesson a couple of years back that we humans are just that: human. We HAVE to laugh at ourselves because if we don't, we risk allowing that weakness to define and conquer us when those extremely evil people (you know em') discover that fear. Well there I was sitting on me duff (no bleeding) and yet as proof of this emerging new mindset I thought to myself, you know, this could have been much worse. What if I had tripped up in the street only to meet the front of a Dodge Durango or, more likely in this town, some extremely hefty RangeRover with an equally hefty-footed driver? Maybe a little less severe but still painful, what if I had stabbed my keys through my hand? I picked myself up, hobbled home, reflecting on the lesson learned: sometimes you cut your losses, other times you throw away the overstretched shoestrings.
Surprisingly, the emotional high has not disappeared. For those who have experienced the past week/few months with me (friends scattered from here to various places in AL to Memphis to the UK to the Grand Canyon and Dallas/Fort Worth) you know I think I've found something. Not that happiness is to be discovered only in another person and then, that's it, problems solved. For me its all about interaction, change, and just being still long enough to know who you are, who she is, and who you are together. Point in case: we've laughed over my fall on Baxter (only after she said, "hey are you ok? really, are you ok?") and I realized that it is that deep connection that sort just happens when you aren't paying attention that binds two people together; that makes you sit back in awe; and, sometimes, loose your breath...at least for me anyway. So even when the fall from an emotional high can be quite painful, the good thing about connecting with the person that aided the creation of the high (if you are as fortunate as I've been lately) is that they'll be there to recreate it with as simple a question as, "hey, how's your leg today?"
TCH
My most recent stupid event: Running along, as most of you know I do, I cross Baxter (in a break of insanely busy traffic) and assume the nice sidewalk pace I had set before crossing. It was just a great afternoon for running. I had just finished reading a book that I had been putting off reading because I had to submit a review for it the next day or so and I had just finished laughing (out loud) about a very funny scene in the Charlie Brown Christmas movie when Sally writes a letter to Mary Christmas (a.k.a. Mrs Clause) praising her for her feminist leanings and keeping her surname. As I resumed pace, it happened: my right shoe gets hung in an expanded left shoe lace hoop and down I go. In my own words that particular members of my family find quite funny, "I just went down." Clearly not my first fall, there's a popularized saying about it for a goat's sake, I knew how to handle it although this fall was rather abrupt and unexpected. Left knee catches the full force (still swollen, not broken, I think) hands catch the rest of the momentum as I roll of to the side and into a fraternity house's side lawn. Well, there you have it: the fall can hurt when you're cruising an emotional high.
Thankfully, I learned the lesson a couple of years back that we humans are just that: human. We HAVE to laugh at ourselves because if we don't, we risk allowing that weakness to define and conquer us when those extremely evil people (you know em') discover that fear. Well there I was sitting on me duff (no bleeding) and yet as proof of this emerging new mindset I thought to myself, you know, this could have been much worse. What if I had tripped up in the street only to meet the front of a Dodge Durango or, more likely in this town, some extremely hefty RangeRover with an equally hefty-footed driver? Maybe a little less severe but still painful, what if I had stabbed my keys through my hand? I picked myself up, hobbled home, reflecting on the lesson learned: sometimes you cut your losses, other times you throw away the overstretched shoestrings.
Surprisingly, the emotional high has not disappeared. For those who have experienced the past week/few months with me (friends scattered from here to various places in AL to Memphis to the UK to the Grand Canyon and Dallas/Fort Worth) you know I think I've found something. Not that happiness is to be discovered only in another person and then, that's it, problems solved. For me its all about interaction, change, and just being still long enough to know who you are, who she is, and who you are together. Point in case: we've laughed over my fall on Baxter (only after she said, "hey are you ok? really, are you ok?") and I realized that it is that deep connection that sort just happens when you aren't paying attention that binds two people together; that makes you sit back in awe; and, sometimes, loose your breath...at least for me anyway. So even when the fall from an emotional high can be quite painful, the good thing about connecting with the person that aided the creation of the high (if you are as fortunate as I've been lately) is that they'll be there to recreate it with as simple a question as, "hey, how's your leg today?"
TCH
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Running to Run
So there's been some talk, low-level chatter as the CIA types might have it, about the silence on my blog. Well, in the words of one of my favorite SNL skits by Jimmy Fallon let me say: "And we're back!"
I've been running almost everyday this past week and a half. With the move to the new place and adjustments all around in both my professional and personal lives, running has been my escape. Not that running hasn't always been the place to get away, collect my thoughts, and come back into my life with renewed spirit, energy, and enough sweat to intimidate Mohamed Ali and Mia Ham. Nonetheless, over the past couple of days, I've found myself excited about my late afternoon runs; that is, save yesterday's which almost killed me: I failed to consider a heat index of well over 100 degrees...not good.
When I started running, oh some years back, I never thought that it would be as great a kind of release that it has turned into. Never, did I ever, believe I would run in a competitive race which I did at the end of this past May. My first 10K went well. I finished the race; I was pleased; my always-supportive-family cheered; we left the race with a new t-shirt and some unripe bananas; we all felt good.
Now for the metaphorical analysis. When running today, I paused (the heat index had dropped but so had my energy level by about 40 minutes in and the approaching thunderstorm was roaring like angry Clintonistas with a score to settle) and thought to myself how fortunate I am to be where I am in life. I had coffee this morning with a friend who, like myself, counts herself lucky to be where she is at this moment in life. We mutually acknowledged the kind of inherent cultural privileges that benefited both of us on our journeys (I think we could both include some other items as well like hard work, grit, and determination but as historians we often like to 'get after' one topic at a time then pivot to others later: I'll update you all if/when we do so), but my point is that unlike a lot of individuals I see around me in the world, I consider myself lucky to be where I am and, just as importantly, to be able and willing to reflect on the intricacies and complications of the journey that got me here. Please don't misread me here bloggers, I'm not so wrapped up in the vanity of success. When I talk about "the journey" I proudly include failures, successes, and the 'draws' that combine to make up my life experiences. Whether I kept to the trodden path or struck out, as I am often known to do, on Frost's "road less traveled", I am thankful that I have (more often than not, I hope) kept the faith and been true to who I am; never wavering for smiles from the crowd, pandering for compliments, or selling out to get ahead.
As a fellow runner felt compelled to reveal to me during the 10K: "Isn't running to run great, but there's also something to be said for the perseverance necessary for the finish." At the time, all I could think was, "leave me alone while I try to survive this bloody race!" Now, in retrospect, I think she couldn't have been more dead on about that race, or the race of life.
TCH
I've been running almost everyday this past week and a half. With the move to the new place and adjustments all around in both my professional and personal lives, running has been my escape. Not that running hasn't always been the place to get away, collect my thoughts, and come back into my life with renewed spirit, energy, and enough sweat to intimidate Mohamed Ali and Mia Ham. Nonetheless, over the past couple of days, I've found myself excited about my late afternoon runs; that is, save yesterday's which almost killed me: I failed to consider a heat index of well over 100 degrees...not good.
When I started running, oh some years back, I never thought that it would be as great a kind of release that it has turned into. Never, did I ever, believe I would run in a competitive race which I did at the end of this past May. My first 10K went well. I finished the race; I was pleased; my always-supportive-family cheered; we left the race with a new t-shirt and some unripe bananas; we all felt good.
Now for the metaphorical analysis. When running today, I paused (the heat index had dropped but so had my energy level by about 40 minutes in and the approaching thunderstorm was roaring like angry Clintonistas with a score to settle) and thought to myself how fortunate I am to be where I am in life. I had coffee this morning with a friend who, like myself, counts herself lucky to be where she is at this moment in life. We mutually acknowledged the kind of inherent cultural privileges that benefited both of us on our journeys (I think we could both include some other items as well like hard work, grit, and determination but as historians we often like to 'get after' one topic at a time then pivot to others later: I'll update you all if/when we do so), but my point is that unlike a lot of individuals I see around me in the world, I consider myself lucky to be where I am and, just as importantly, to be able and willing to reflect on the intricacies and complications of the journey that got me here. Please don't misread me here bloggers, I'm not so wrapped up in the vanity of success. When I talk about "the journey" I proudly include failures, successes, and the 'draws' that combine to make up my life experiences. Whether I kept to the trodden path or struck out, as I am often known to do, on Frost's "road less traveled", I am thankful that I have (more often than not, I hope) kept the faith and been true to who I am; never wavering for smiles from the crowd, pandering for compliments, or selling out to get ahead.
As a fellow runner felt compelled to reveal to me during the 10K: "Isn't running to run great, but there's also something to be said for the perseverance necessary for the finish." At the time, all I could think was, "leave me alone while I try to survive this bloody race!" Now, in retrospect, I think she couldn't have been more dead on about that race, or the race of life.
TCH
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