at work
at work.
just me updating about me
Yesterday at work a swarm of kids came out for a celebratory BBQ, honoring the winning of a substantial grant by the local Garden-Club. Garden-Club is a non-profit entity that works with low-income housing areas to build community gardens....where residents can grow their own food or food to sell at farmer's markets. It's great that they got the grant.
The BBQ was a lot of action and people swirling around. Crazy people, old people, young people, strange people, wonderful vibrant super-folk. And kids. Lots of kids, who now know me and remember me and trust me.
I just started the job a few weeks ago, and I love it intensely.
There's a line of swings, and a line of kids next to them demanding their 'turn' to get on and have an underdoggy. If you don't know what an underdoggy is, it's when the pusher pulls back on the swing a bit, and then runs under the swing, pushing his/her arms high in the air to give the pushie a huge launch off into the air.
I make a strange racket in my breath with each kid, developing a new scenario for the launch into adrenaline-rush they are about to have.
I hold on to the swing of one kid and say,
"here we are...at the historic launch of the first manned interstellar craft, commonly called 'Sabrina' (The kids name). a hush comes over the crowd as the heroic astronaunt begins the countdown....5.....4....3....2.......OH NO>>>IT'S A HUGE MECHANICAL ERROR IN THE VIBRUM CORDUM CONTINUM MACHINE>>>SHE'LL NEVER MAKE IT FOLKS>>>>>OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
at which point i'll launch the laughing screaming youth into the air. it's a lot of fun, is all i'm saying.
The thing I notice over time though, is that this kind of attention can get exhausting at a planned event like a BBQ. I can't sit down for even a second. I am up and running. Their are two big-kid swings, two little-kid swings, and just one Adam. Some of the kids know my name, and others call me the 'community room guy' or just 'snack man' (for the grahmn crackers and juice they get in the room). I'm running back and forth to calls and complaints about who's turn it is, and how long I'm taking to get to them.
It's the rush that they love. I'm having a blast for a long time, but then I get a little grumpy that I can't sit down and have some BBQ, or walk away to chat with anyone.
I have a guilty feeling about glaring instictively at a 16-year old in a 25-year old's body. I stopped immeadiately, but felt a blush of self-anger for long after.
More kids on the swing and my arms get tired.
It's the rush that they're on about. The kick of the feeling in their chest, the pump of blood in their veins. The feeling that life has, yes finally, just started up in this jolt out of boring time and space. Thump thumping little hearts and the teeth out that look so much like fright it's hard to remember it's pleasure, and it's only pleasure because their heads say it's ultimately safe (because I'm there to protect them).
More kids and then I grow a further sense of patience. I relax into it. I won't be eating BBQ. I turn on the immense charm I have with children to full blast, and revel in the ease it is to be their friends. It's so attractive of a feeling, and relatively free of the doubts and pressures and fuck-ups that I normally associate with new adult people. Don't get me wrong, I only want to hang with kids for half the time, or less. I prefer adults for most of my socially dynamic moments, but for just fun and running around being generally silly, nothing at all beats the kids.
I think for a moment on those who prey (sometimes on purpose, sometimes by incident) on these and other children's willful innocence and fast-burning trust. While throwing these kids high in the air, thethered to the earth by my strength and their full belief in it, I allow myself a brief but intensely painful realization of the truth of many of their emotionally impoverished lives. I get scared and full of love for them and I want to gather them all together in my car and make a break for it. I do nothing of the sort, of course. I just smile and laugh and run again and try to be attentive and real.
I sometimes feel uncertain and strange, even around kids....but for the most part this is the easiest audience. A crowd of souls that by their nature deaden to a dim warbling my consuming silly difficulties at being an individual. The largest parts of my confusion are left off. The elements of my life that provide the most efficient delivery of pain or loss are completely devoid of impact. Sex is irrelevant (they're kids, and I don't work with the 16 year old girl). Moving home is irrelevant (what's it matter here?). Drinking and smoking is irrelevant (I wouldn't in front of kids). Money is of no concern (I'm at work, earning MONEY for this stuff).
The wonderful women from Garden-Club are at the BBQ. It's their grant, after all. They are all beautiful and unique. Women, not girls. With fully formed opinions, firmly held identities, often-twinkling eyes, etc. I'm happy to be around them.
I finally get to eat. I shovel some food in my mouth and head back to run about a bit more.
I head home.
It's the rush. The pounding and the push in the heart and heads. The swing goes back a bit, and then I launch from the pad. They scriek and cry out in joy sounding so close to pain.
Later that night I go out with Dusty to a dance club. I get drunk and smoke too much. Women are everywhere dancing. Women with facial tattoos or conservative skirts. Women with cigarettes or attitudes or both. Women with minds and heart and beliefs. Dusty and Rob and I dance around. It's fun, but everything from before is now a real thing again.
Sex is now a problem, because I want it and I don't want to deal with the consequences of it. I look and want but fear the desires. Moving home is a problem, because I get to thinking of my lifestyle and my sense of self, and Lauren and time and pressure and etc etc. Drinking and smoking is a problem, because I do too much of both and am not strong about it ever. Money is a huge concern, because I'm spending loads of it all over while feeling aweful and stupid about each round or tug on the overly-priced cancer delivery system.
Yes. We are laughing and playing and jumping just like the kids earlier in the day. There is music and food and fine folks being individuals. By all accounts, this dance club is a mirror image of today's BBQ fun. But everything is now a 'problem' or a 'solution'...instead of effortlessly being consumed by moments.
I have techniques for battling these things, and I put them into some good use, and manage to have an amazingly fun time at the club too. We dance to Billy Idol songs and Franz Ferdinand hits and I begin to (all over again) appreciate how much dancing like a full-on dork helps me feel defended from some mental constraints I have.
Why all this?
It's the rush that I'm on about. The kick of the feeling in my chest, the pump of blood in my veins. The feeling that life has, yes finally, just started up in this jolt out of boring time and space. Thump thumping big heart and the teeth out that looks so much like fright it's hard to remember it's pleasure...
The kids love the swing because it feels like fear but they feel safe (i'm there for them). I love this world and my life...but I know that there is no person holding the reins, no big large man holding the ropes and ready to catch me. It feels like fear, and there are no safety harnesses. I'm out here in the air. I've sarted the launch process, there is a HUGE MECHANICAL ERROR....but this flight is one way and it's going. It's going to go.
Someone hold my hand. If I can't have someone to catch me, I just so badly need someone to go wherever I go. I want to break through and trust like Sabrina trusts. I want so much to, five minutes after our first meeting, place my life in some strangers hands.
Whew.
It was, ultimately, a wonderful day. The BBQ and the dancing later. It was wonderful and good. I'm just thinking about a lot of things today.
Love
Adam
at work.
just me updating about me
Yesterday at work a swarm of kids came out for a celebratory BBQ, honoring the winning of a substantial grant by the local Garden-Club. Garden-Club is a non-profit entity that works with low-income housing areas to build community gardens....where residents can grow their own food or food to sell at farmer's markets. It's great that they got the grant.
The BBQ was a lot of action and people swirling around. Crazy people, old people, young people, strange people, wonderful vibrant super-folk. And kids. Lots of kids, who now know me and remember me and trust me.
I just started the job a few weeks ago, and I love it intensely.
There's a line of swings, and a line of kids next to them demanding their 'turn' to get on and have an underdoggy. If you don't know what an underdoggy is, it's when the pusher pulls back on the swing a bit, and then runs under the swing, pushing his/her arms high in the air to give the pushie a huge launch off into the air.
I make a strange racket in my breath with each kid, developing a new scenario for the launch into adrenaline-rush they are about to have.
I hold on to the swing of one kid and say,
"here we are...at the historic launch of the first manned interstellar craft, commonly called 'Sabrina' (The kids name). a hush comes over the crowd as the heroic astronaunt begins the countdown....5.....4....3....2.......OH NO>>>IT'S A HUGE MECHANICAL ERROR IN THE VIBRUM CORDUM CONTINUM MACHINE>>>SHE'LL NEVER MAKE IT FOLKS>>>>>OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
at which point i'll launch the laughing screaming youth into the air. it's a lot of fun, is all i'm saying.
The thing I notice over time though, is that this kind of attention can get exhausting at a planned event like a BBQ. I can't sit down for even a second. I am up and running. Their are two big-kid swings, two little-kid swings, and just one Adam. Some of the kids know my name, and others call me the 'community room guy' or just 'snack man' (for the grahmn crackers and juice they get in the room). I'm running back and forth to calls and complaints about who's turn it is, and how long I'm taking to get to them.
It's the rush that they love. I'm having a blast for a long time, but then I get a little grumpy that I can't sit down and have some BBQ, or walk away to chat with anyone.
I have a guilty feeling about glaring instictively at a 16-year old in a 25-year old's body. I stopped immeadiately, but felt a blush of self-anger for long after.
More kids on the swing and my arms get tired.
It's the rush that they're on about. The kick of the feeling in their chest, the pump of blood in their veins. The feeling that life has, yes finally, just started up in this jolt out of boring time and space. Thump thumping little hearts and the teeth out that look so much like fright it's hard to remember it's pleasure, and it's only pleasure because their heads say it's ultimately safe (because I'm there to protect them).
More kids and then I grow a further sense of patience. I relax into it. I won't be eating BBQ. I turn on the immense charm I have with children to full blast, and revel in the ease it is to be their friends. It's so attractive of a feeling, and relatively free of the doubts and pressures and fuck-ups that I normally associate with new adult people. Don't get me wrong, I only want to hang with kids for half the time, or less. I prefer adults for most of my socially dynamic moments, but for just fun and running around being generally silly, nothing at all beats the kids.
I think for a moment on those who prey (sometimes on purpose, sometimes by incident) on these and other children's willful innocence and fast-burning trust. While throwing these kids high in the air, thethered to the earth by my strength and their full belief in it, I allow myself a brief but intensely painful realization of the truth of many of their emotionally impoverished lives. I get scared and full of love for them and I want to gather them all together in my car and make a break for it. I do nothing of the sort, of course. I just smile and laugh and run again and try to be attentive and real.
I sometimes feel uncertain and strange, even around kids....but for the most part this is the easiest audience. A crowd of souls that by their nature deaden to a dim warbling my consuming silly difficulties at being an individual. The largest parts of my confusion are left off. The elements of my life that provide the most efficient delivery of pain or loss are completely devoid of impact. Sex is irrelevant (they're kids, and I don't work with the 16 year old girl). Moving home is irrelevant (what's it matter here?). Drinking and smoking is irrelevant (I wouldn't in front of kids). Money is of no concern (I'm at work, earning MONEY for this stuff).
The wonderful women from Garden-Club are at the BBQ. It's their grant, after all. They are all beautiful and unique. Women, not girls. With fully formed opinions, firmly held identities, often-twinkling eyes, etc. I'm happy to be around them.
I finally get to eat. I shovel some food in my mouth and head back to run about a bit more.
I head home.
It's the rush. The pounding and the push in the heart and heads. The swing goes back a bit, and then I launch from the pad. They scriek and cry out in joy sounding so close to pain.
Later that night I go out with Dusty to a dance club. I get drunk and smoke too much. Women are everywhere dancing. Women with facial tattoos or conservative skirts. Women with cigarettes or attitudes or both. Women with minds and heart and beliefs. Dusty and Rob and I dance around. It's fun, but everything from before is now a real thing again.
Sex is now a problem, because I want it and I don't want to deal with the consequences of it. I look and want but fear the desires. Moving home is a problem, because I get to thinking of my lifestyle and my sense of self, and Lauren and time and pressure and etc etc. Drinking and smoking is a problem, because I do too much of both and am not strong about it ever. Money is a huge concern, because I'm spending loads of it all over while feeling aweful and stupid about each round or tug on the overly-priced cancer delivery system.
Yes. We are laughing and playing and jumping just like the kids earlier in the day. There is music and food and fine folks being individuals. By all accounts, this dance club is a mirror image of today's BBQ fun. But everything is now a 'problem' or a 'solution'...instead of effortlessly being consumed by moments.
I have techniques for battling these things, and I put them into some good use, and manage to have an amazingly fun time at the club too. We dance to Billy Idol songs and Franz Ferdinand hits and I begin to (all over again) appreciate how much dancing like a full-on dork helps me feel defended from some mental constraints I have.
Why all this?
It's the rush that I'm on about. The kick of the feeling in my chest, the pump of blood in my veins. The feeling that life has, yes finally, just started up in this jolt out of boring time and space. Thump thumping big heart and the teeth out that looks so much like fright it's hard to remember it's pleasure...
The kids love the swing because it feels like fear but they feel safe (i'm there for them). I love this world and my life...but I know that there is no person holding the reins, no big large man holding the ropes and ready to catch me. It feels like fear, and there are no safety harnesses. I'm out here in the air. I've sarted the launch process, there is a HUGE MECHANICAL ERROR....but this flight is one way and it's going. It's going to go.
Someone hold my hand. If I can't have someone to catch me, I just so badly need someone to go wherever I go. I want to break through and trust like Sabrina trusts. I want so much to, five minutes after our first meeting, place my life in some strangers hands.
Whew.
It was, ultimately, a wonderful day. The BBQ and the dancing later. It was wonderful and good. I'm just thinking about a lot of things today.
Love
Adam