Rain Thoughts
Wow. It's been some time since I've written in you, livejournal.
This past month has been surreal, extraordinary, mind-opening, and frustrating beyond all mention.
I did spend nearly half of November out of town, at exceptional teaching conferences in Menlo Park and Seattle, visiting family and friends in Los Angeles, and squeezing in a quick trip to see Gillian in San Francisco during the Veteran's Day weekend. I felt like a gypsy just at the moment when I thought that possibly i might be getting a handle on this whole teaching thing and making it a routine.
It's frustrating and awesome where I'm at right now. I'm looking into the reasons why i make decisions, struggling hard with loneliness, and staring at deep personal issues dead on (and only sometimes running away from them).
My dad drove down from L.A. to go to a conference in San Diego, and he did indeed come to visit. However, like with Thanksgiving, he promised to come at 1pm (I called him at 11:30 to double check!) and managed not to come until hours later. On Thanksgiving, he showed up at nearly 3pm, which made me immensely late for my mom's family's celebration. This past weekend, he showed up at 8pm (a far cry from 1), when I had to go to a holiday work party. It made me so very sad to realize that I had planned entirely around him not showing up, and I had learned to expect nothing from him, only to be handsomely rewarded for my apathy.
It's raining right now in San Diego, and I can hear the raindrops brush the trees, roof, stairwells, and brick outside my little apartment, while I sit in turtleneck and jeans, surrounded by candles, playing the suitably emotional Fray.
The two conferences rocked my socks off. The first was immensely awesome, a new teacher's conference in Menlo Park at a Catholic retreat center, Vallombrosa. It was incredibly comforting to find other young people going through my self-same issues of new teaching and trying to transition into a semblance of normalcy and adulthood. I made friends, had long discussions, and chatted into the night about everything from my newfound addiction to the TV series "Heroes" to frustrations with students in some of my classes.
On top of that, I had the amazing, amazing opportunity to attend the 2006 People of Color Conference for Independent Schools, sponsored by NAIS (National Association of Independent Schools), which was a blast. Spending five days in Seattle surrounded by people of color and talking about concerns and needs for diversity, understanding, education, and relating this all to the issues of class and racial privilege in an educational setting was such a mind blowing challenge and experience. I got to know two teachers better, and the three students that also came were a real treat. I have now officially been to Seattle, walked down to Pike St. Market, seen the infamous monkfish as well as the first Starbucks and Space Needle. However, like an idiot I did completely forget to pack a jacket and had to buy one as it was 28 degrees and snowing when i left the airport. I'm dumb.
Last week I went on a retreat with my church. The retreat took place at Mission San Luis Rey, the old Franciscan mission in Oceanside. When we got there, Yucan (our pastor), immediately told us that we were to spend the next hour and a half in complete solitude, focusing on God and trying to see what he wanted to tell us. I hated the idea so very much. It was in that moment I realized how much I, like so many other people, fill myself with ambient noise, video games, projects, assignments, laundry, iPods, lunch breaks, coffees, and the like to keep form really looking inside myself, my own issues with being loved, with loneliness, and really take the time to strip down the entirely natural human lie that we are capable, that we are NOT broken, that we are worthy and confident.
And it scared the shit out of me.
I'm looking, as Christmas draws near, and I'm trying my best to figure out what it means to be T.J. Tallie. As a Christian, as a high school teacher, as a man, as a friend, as a person. I'm trying to be more vulnerable, honest, open, and understanding. I'm looking at what makes me feel alone, and I'm trying, as my therapist Sam tells me, to take some credit and recognize that I've grown a bit, made some progress, and just might be beginning to love myself the way I try to love others.
I think that I've written enough for now, but I was just touched by the opportunity to see old friends last night and this morning, to walk alone in North Park as the grey clouds swirled in ominously all around me, heavy with their loads as I was with my own thoughts, and to spend over two hours talking with a guy i met from church about living out faith in a world that seems often confusing and not at all understanding.
I think that's enough. I'm broken but trying to be okay with that.
This past month has been surreal, extraordinary, mind-opening, and frustrating beyond all mention.
I did spend nearly half of November out of town, at exceptional teaching conferences in Menlo Park and Seattle, visiting family and friends in Los Angeles, and squeezing in a quick trip to see Gillian in San Francisco during the Veteran's Day weekend. I felt like a gypsy just at the moment when I thought that possibly i might be getting a handle on this whole teaching thing and making it a routine.
It's frustrating and awesome where I'm at right now. I'm looking into the reasons why i make decisions, struggling hard with loneliness, and staring at deep personal issues dead on (and only sometimes running away from them).
My dad drove down from L.A. to go to a conference in San Diego, and he did indeed come to visit. However, like with Thanksgiving, he promised to come at 1pm (I called him at 11:30 to double check!) and managed not to come until hours later. On Thanksgiving, he showed up at nearly 3pm, which made me immensely late for my mom's family's celebration. This past weekend, he showed up at 8pm (a far cry from 1), when I had to go to a holiday work party. It made me so very sad to realize that I had planned entirely around him not showing up, and I had learned to expect nothing from him, only to be handsomely rewarded for my apathy.
It's raining right now in San Diego, and I can hear the raindrops brush the trees, roof, stairwells, and brick outside my little apartment, while I sit in turtleneck and jeans, surrounded by candles, playing the suitably emotional Fray.
The two conferences rocked my socks off. The first was immensely awesome, a new teacher's conference in Menlo Park at a Catholic retreat center, Vallombrosa. It was incredibly comforting to find other young people going through my self-same issues of new teaching and trying to transition into a semblance of normalcy and adulthood. I made friends, had long discussions, and chatted into the night about everything from my newfound addiction to the TV series "Heroes" to frustrations with students in some of my classes.
On top of that, I had the amazing, amazing opportunity to attend the 2006 People of Color Conference for Independent Schools, sponsored by NAIS (National Association of Independent Schools), which was a blast. Spending five days in Seattle surrounded by people of color and talking about concerns and needs for diversity, understanding, education, and relating this all to the issues of class and racial privilege in an educational setting was such a mind blowing challenge and experience. I got to know two teachers better, and the three students that also came were a real treat. I have now officially been to Seattle, walked down to Pike St. Market, seen the infamous monkfish as well as the first Starbucks and Space Needle. However, like an idiot I did completely forget to pack a jacket and had to buy one as it was 28 degrees and snowing when i left the airport. I'm dumb.
Last week I went on a retreat with my church. The retreat took place at Mission San Luis Rey, the old Franciscan mission in Oceanside. When we got there, Yucan (our pastor), immediately told us that we were to spend the next hour and a half in complete solitude, focusing on God and trying to see what he wanted to tell us. I hated the idea so very much. It was in that moment I realized how much I, like so many other people, fill myself with ambient noise, video games, projects, assignments, laundry, iPods, lunch breaks, coffees, and the like to keep form really looking inside myself, my own issues with being loved, with loneliness, and really take the time to strip down the entirely natural human lie that we are capable, that we are NOT broken, that we are worthy and confident.
And it scared the shit out of me.
I'm looking, as Christmas draws near, and I'm trying my best to figure out what it means to be T.J. Tallie. As a Christian, as a high school teacher, as a man, as a friend, as a person. I'm trying to be more vulnerable, honest, open, and understanding. I'm looking at what makes me feel alone, and I'm trying, as my therapist Sam tells me, to take some credit and recognize that I've grown a bit, made some progress, and just might be beginning to love myself the way I try to love others.
I think that I've written enough for now, but I was just touched by the opportunity to see old friends last night and this morning, to walk alone in North Park as the grey clouds swirled in ominously all around me, heavy with their loads as I was with my own thoughts, and to spend over two hours talking with a guy i met from church about living out faith in a world that seems often confusing and not at all understanding.
I think that's enough. I'm broken but trying to be okay with that.