Blogs, Generally

I'm five hours away from home, groggy from a terrible cold and medicine I've taken to get me through. I have a cup of decaf for my throat which was so sore that swallowing woke me at four and wouldn't let me get back to sleep. I'm far from home, up early, and laid low by this cold, but have done my three Morning Pages and know the day will get better.

Yesterday, in Cait Flanders' newsletter, was this passage about blogs:

I've been craving stories. Journeys to follow. Even just the "boring" (NOT BORING) updates we used to share on blogs. Like what are you thinking about right now? What have you been curious enough to actually learn more about? And where are the BEGINNERS!? Where are the people who are raising their hands and saying "I have no idea what I'm doing, but here's what I'm attempting and my progress so far"? I miss those days. Blogging was actually fun, back then.

I get that. Almost all the blogs and newsletters I read are very focused and the writer is an expert (if not the expert) on that idea. This is how one builds a platform (ugh) and a following (ugh), through specific focus such as on living frugally, being much more Zen, or retiring early to name a few I have been reading. These are good for now, but I wonder if, like subscribing to Runners World, that focus wears thin. I could only subscribe to that rag for eight months before the same damn run your fastest 5K! article would make me puke.

My interests are general and so I enjoy Austin Kleon's and Alan Jacobs' writings which focus on the lives of their writers. Thoreau was focused on his living near Walden, but really it's a memoir of living. I like memoir. I like blogs that feel like listening to a friend. My friend is a photographer, but that's only a slice of what we discuss. Then there are Genesis, turntables, our shared history, the Thousand Islands, parents and wives, geology, writing, books, friends, and whatever else we think of.

Go back to the magazine comparison. I like The New Yorker and The New York Times, and I love The Sun because they talk about most everything. There are themes and a feel to each, but they range all over. That's what I like and so, this far anyway, that's what I write.

I have my own recurring themes: Morning Pages, reading, teaching, schools, running, and so on, but there isn't just one thing the blog is about.

I'm unlikely to build much of a following or platform that way, but then again, who's to say? I think of the blog like Morning Pages and I'm on the last few lines of page one of three, about to flip over to a clean, blank page two. It's early in the morning. I have only the slightest idea what I will say on pages two and no idea how the thing will end. It's a journey, an exploration, a way of learning. I'm a beginner. I'm by no means the expert, though I'm feeling more confident in my expertise about a few things and maybe they will become the focal points.

I should go. The coffee and medicine have eased some of the pain in my throat. I've done Morning Pages (about how to do Morning Pages away from home) and written this post. It's time to see what else the day has to offer and what I might want to think about next. This is just the beginning.

Childish Contradictions

EDIT: I posted this late at night using a bluetooth keyboard attached to my phone. It did not go well. There was no alcohol involved, but five hours of driving, no sleep, a cold, and a bad keyboard took their toll. I've noticed and hopefully corrected the typos that were littered all over this.

I'm in a hotel room near the Univerity Of Vermont while my girls and wife explore the hotel in search of a bubbler for water. I woke this morning at 4:40 and wrote Morning Pages as always, had some breakfast, went to the job (last day before break!), stopped for gas, bread for sandwiches, and a book from the library on the way home, made sandwiches, helped pack the car, and drove for just shy of five hours from Syracuse. I'm tired now. Ready for sleep.

Tomorrow we tour St. Michael's College, an institution that has been heavily courting our girl. We will have to see what she thinks of the place and what our financial situation thinks about it.

There is also the question of distance. I'm not sure how she feels about being five hours from home. I know how my wife feels. I'm curious what it would be like for me. I've been thinking about distance and closeness throughout most of the drive.

Seems to me it's not that far away even as it is a long drive. It might be the sort of thing that would be good for her and therefore good for us. I like the idea of her going out into the world even as I hope that she will come right back.

I know this much about raising children (and probably not much more): I can't predict what tomorrow will be like even as I have some ideas. This is a good balance like being far away from and close to understanding. Raising kids is an act of faith and of discipline. It requires vigilance and turning a blind eye. It is holding tight and letting them slip out of sight.

Does parenting contradict itself? Very well then, it contradicts itself. it is large. It contains multitudes.

One other thing about taking our kid to tour colleges: watching our daughters grow up is heavenly wonderful and absolutely terrible. I suppose that's exactly how things are supposed to balance.

What Are You Doing?

Twice in half an hour I have had to ask myself, what are you doing? I have asked it out loud because it seemed important enough to answer. Both times I have been staring at the laptop on which I've opened a new tab looking to distract myself with...anything. What are you doing? Each time I have stepped away from the computer and done something more useful, but I'm still wondering about my answer to that question.

An old Genesis song begins with Peter Gabriel crooning, "looking for someone". I stare into the computer looking for something. Looking for distraction to take me away. This is why I had to quit Facebook and why I use Twitter only for writerly stuff. I kept looking at social media, news, and YouTube to relieve me of thinking, to deliver me from boredom, a thing which I realize scares me.

Why is boredom frightening? Does it frighten other people? Maybe that's why we stare at our phones in line at Wegmans. Don't tell me all those people are reading books.

A couple weeks ago I wrote about doing nothing and yet I don't let myself do nothing. It doesn't count to stare at nothing on the screen waiting for good news, watching YouTube to pass the time, or anything else that tries to dodge boredom. I'm talking about sitting still, doing nothing. Haven't done it. I haven't been able to stand it.

Even now, I'm too interested in writing this to stop. I looked out the window for thirty seconds but had to get back.

There are worse things, but here's what concerns me: my fear of boredom is an indication of dissatisfaction mostly with myself. I'm afraid to be truly alone with myself and know what the truth of that. Hmmm. Heady stuff. I would think about it, but I'm too busy worrying what you're thinking of me as you read that.

Duh.

Twice in half an hour I've gone to the computer for distraction. Then I came to the computer to write this. Those things all being done, I have ten minutes to stop, resist the desire to revise this or just open another tab. I have the chance to be bored and ask myself what are you doing? just to hear what the next answer might be.

Brief Thoughts About School Trips

We took students to the Chinese buffet for lunch. Just a few of them because that's all who brought signed permission slips and were willing to go. We invited every kid in the program (a pretty small number, ours being an alternative school for at-risk kids) and were prepared to take all of them.

Shouldn't such a trip be a reward?, you ask.

First, they had to come up with the money. It was too much hassle to have the school pay (though my supervisor tried her best, bless her). If kids have to pay, that's no reward.

More important, rewards are a stupid educational ideas. Here's how to tell: they are done all the time and accepted as a matter of course. Anything at school that is just the way you do it is probably wrong. Also, consider the kid barred from going. It's a punishment and if you're into that, fine, but I'm into teaching and learning. The "bad" kid is taught that she/he sucks and thus learns to be worse in order to reciprocate.

Exasperated, you say, so it's a participation trophy!

If the trip was a reward and we then let every kid go, it's a participation trophy and bad lesson. If instead this is something to which every student is invited because there is a lot to learn from it, then it's just like a class, only tastier. We invited kids, set up a structure for participating, and let them learn from the experience.

Yeah, what did they learn from eating at a Chinese buffet?

• Swearing in public is a mark of bad manners, disrespect, and idiocy.
• Take small portions and go back for more.
• Saying please and thank you makes everything better.
• Try new things and talk about them.
• Not everyone likes the same things.
• We like each other.
• There's more to learning than four core subjects.
• Learning is better when it's not graded.
• Teachers do their best work when they seem like they're doing none at all.
• Eating too much is uncomfortable but unavoidable at a buffet.
• There's always room for sugary coffee drinks.

One kid learned that "bring a signed permission slip or you won't go" means just that. He wanted us to call Mom for permission. I said no and when he asked why I told him tennis is best played with a net.

To recap: school trips are good, rewards suck, and remember your signed permission slip if you want to eat at the buffet. Class dismissed.