The Art Teacher

So today, while I was in the art room sorting through scraps of construction paper and making posters for the first day of school, it occured to me exactly what I am. I am The Art Teacher, The Woman In Charge of Fingerpaint and Purveyor of All Things Glittery. For some reason up until now I don't think I quite believed the situation had anything to do wth reality, because it just seemed so cosmically hilarious to me. Me? A teacher?? AHAha, haha ha ha...ha. Right. Like when my boyfriend makes lude teacher's pet jokes. Or I do something really flaky and silly, it's ok, because it's my actual job to be a wierdo. Or the fact that I was a lazy-ass bum all summer, and I refuse to act like a real grownup. And I make fun of myself all the time.

So school is about to start, and I've been getting the classroom ready this week. This sounds really strange coming out of my mouth, my classroom, my students, my lesson plans. I even have an art-minion, who obeys my commands. Whoo, I am a powerful woman. I get to organize things, and run the show. It's a pretty big deal, because we're the flagship school for the Home, and the art program is a huge source of promotional and PR goodness for their fundraising. So it's gotta be good, and I have to make it that way. I think it's important.

So for a minute there I was panicking about it all; getting my lessons in on time, impressing my supervisors, organizing art events, giving the kids a fabulous learning experience, and keeping my stamina and passion up despite all the time and sacrifices I have to make to this thing. It's kind of scary.

But then I thought, I have a job where I get to play with kids all day. I get to paint, and use crayons. I get to draw and imagine things and be silly and have fun. I get to be the Art Teacher, for real. This is gonna rule!

Two and a half hours......!

I just woke up from a scary dream. I hate when I have bad dreams, because although they only happen once in a while, they are usually accompanied by some sort of huge catastrophe in reality at the same time....like that morning in early september, two years ago, when i woke from a dream about thousands of people walking through darkness and black water.

This time it was volcanoes. We had heard on the news report that the earth was shifting itself in the west, and the effect would roll towards us across the continent in a matter of days, or hours. I was in Boston with my mother, packing our things to go somewhere, and waiting for my father to arrive. I remember walking around harvard square a few hours before, and all the shops had been evacuated, and all the people were gone. the sun began to go down and the sky was a vicious red-orange against black clouds, and i could feel it coming. When night came i went out into the neighborhood to see who was left; I think some people didn't believe anything was going to happen, or hadn't heard, and were still in their houses. That's when the fire began to fall from the sky, hot red rocks and molten stone which shot through the dark and pummeled the grass. I ran to my family, and we drove east until we couldn't anymore, and I was standing on the beach at nauset, with the ocean before me and the fire at my back. The only thing to do was take a boat and sail out. A great wave suddenly overtook us, like a tsunami, and we were nothing but smalll creatures on an open sea. I dreamt of what must be happening to the earth behind me...as the hills thrummed and rumbled and melted in the molten rivers, and the houses collapsed and exploded, and darkness and fire everywhere......

Thank god morning came. i hate waking up feeling afraid.

GRRRR.

I was just really mean to Nick, and I feel bad. For some reason I feel distracted and irate and agitated tonight, and I can't focus. I've been wanting to talk to him because I've been missing his company lately, and all these confusing things have happened in the past week. I like being around him, I'd almost forgotten. But instead, brilliant me, I decided to be rude to him and make him leave.

There is too much angst in this house, and it's getting to me. I came back from New Mexico glowing from head to toe, and all of my friends and more turned out to wish me a happy day yesterday. But by ten o'clock I just wanted everyone to leave. I love them, but I don't feel like there's room for me to share how happy I am, even if I knew how to describe it, and then who wants to listen? There's nothing more boring and annoying and silly than listening to a happy and in-love person gush about their bliss when there are serious issues immediately at hand. Like those aforementioned friend-cestuous dodecahedrons. Big important deal.

I wish Bryon were not a million miles away. I know perfectly well how to make myself happy again, but everything seems right with the world when he's near me, and all the really beautiful and important things come clear.  I have to find my way until then.

Twenty-four hours......

Toy

Yes, kiddies, I now have a camera phone. Many of you have already witnessed its glory, as I can now take pictures anywhere and send them instantly, along with a love note, to anyone in the world. And it's purdy, too, huh huh.

Some of my photographic endeavors:

 

Wander in the Woods

I think i'm in good with the weather-gods. I was feeling pretty homesick for marvelous clouds and clear western skies, and lo, we are bestowed upon with sparkling warm weather.

Unfortunately I have a cold. At the moment, I am a snotbox.

No matter! on Friday Nicodemus picked me up in his gunmetal-grey pimpmobile and whisked me away to the mountains up North, where we zipped around the Kankamangas for a few hours. We talked, which hadn't been done in a long time. I missed that.

So i went home and slept, missing Bryon, and in the morning I woke to bright sunshine streaming in my window through green leaves. An hour later my dad came and picked me up in the jeep, and we dished about NM and all my adventures. I saw my mother for a bit, which makes me worry. Later on my father and I walked in the woods like the old days, talking about this and that, trekking across field and forest, and picking out changes in the landscape. I think I am getting used to things changing all around me.

Happy Birthday to me!!

New Mexico

I've been back for two days. I woke up this morning trying to remember where i was standing precisely four days ago....five days ago...what i did sunday night....I think I'm trying to hold on.

Apparently the day i left Boston everything went to hell in a handbag with my friends. We have love triangles, hate quadrangles, and friend-cestuous dodecahedrons happening. I landed two days ago and found myself in an utter fray. And one case happens to hit especially close to home, but i'd rather be tactful about it, and for some reason it doesn't seem to hurt as much as it ought. I think i have spent most of my time trying to unravel what the hell is happening and listening to everyone bemoan one another. Good thing I'm blissful, anyway. I feel like the only person around with my head on straight, thanks to a fresh dose of clear desert air. 

Unfortunately this means i don't really get to dish about where I've been and what happened when i was there, which was something really important to me. I feel....different. Maybe that's why all these little disasters aren't wearing me down. I feel like i have a deep intention. I don't feel lost anymore. I know where i want to be.

So, this is where I was. I'm not telling you about it because i need you to read it, but so that it's at least here somewhere, so I can remember.

Wednesday, August 13; departure.

We woke early in the morning, rubbed the sleep from our eyes, and dragged our stuff to the airport. I was a little nervous about the airport falderal since it was my first time flying....not the actual being-in-the-air part, but all the mess at the gate. I knew i would have to do it all on my own in a week, and i didn't want to get lost. I had chocolate milk in the terminal, played with my phone, and made faces at Bry. We watched the planes roll in and out, and i marveled at how those Fat-Ass behemoths could get off the ground.

But sure enough we did.

Original Vintage art by Bryon himself.

It was incredible. Part of me wanted to touch the clouds as they swept by, and at the same time i wanted to turn to him and tell him all that it meant to be out in the open air, with the world sprawled out before me. I watched the whole continent pass beneath me, and wondered at the pattens of weather and the geology rolling along below, the patterns of human construction, the colors of the earth as the forests dispersed into tawny fields and tamed prairie.  I pointed out little boats in the water and the ice crystal rainbows hanging in the clouds, because it is important to see even little miracles like that. And then there were blue mountains poking through the cloud field, and openings into bare earth and arroyos which cut into the plain like arteries, and wisps of green where aquifers lay hidden under the sand. And then we landed.

I think it was a dream...how else could i have been picked up in one place and plunked down into the foot of a mountain, and see that long-lost landscape all around me? I woke there, feeling miraculous and disoriented.

His mom drove us across the plain to Santa Fe, where i met his sister and her husband and the two boys, age four and two. It was love at first sight. I drew giraffes and bunnies at the table and we squabbled over crayons and chocolate cake, pretended to be dinosaurs and played hide and seek, and wrestled on the floor. Uncle Bryon and I promised to take them to play sometime soon. And then it was night, and time for bed, and sleep.

Thursday August 14.

I woke at dawn with an urge to see the sunrise. I had this idea about sitting in the dust at eye level with the sagebrush, and seeing the sky turn light over the mountain. I wanted to dig my toes into the dirt, and bind myself to the ground.

I think we had breakfast at Tecolote, which means "the Owl". I don't know what owls have to do with pancakes, but I was hungry, so i had waffles with apricots on them. Yum.

We went to the plaza and poked around. I learned to say "Sannafay" rather than my clipped yankee "San-TAH Fay." There was a lot of art that would match your couch, especially if you live in a contrived adobe house and have too much money. We saw some of those people. We made fun of them.

Dinner was pizza at one of his mom's favs, we chatted, and i picked out the resemblances between them. Green eyes, light brown hair, straightforward, and tenaciously fierce when it comes to important things.

That was my first day.

Friday August 15.

As promised, we took the boys to this place called Quigley's, which Christopher (age 4) affectionately refers to as "we go play at the toys, now, ya?" He dragged Uncle Bryon around to all the games for a good hour, burning through tokens like there was no tomorrow. We became basketball masters. We whacked the moles. We hucked purple plastic balls at one another. We ran in and out of the plastic tunnel. I chased Nickel, the two year old, around for a bit, scooped him up and spun him around intermittently, and chatted with Christopher about important universal issues. Like whether he was deserving of a toy at Target. On a philosophical level I think we all are pretty deserving anyway, but a four year old can give a very convincing argument when only left with "maybe". We baited him with the possibility of something good after lunch.

Apparently out west they have these cafeteria-things, where lots of hungry people line up at a counter with a tray, just like we all did at school, and eat all they can for $6.95. Christopher had macaroni and cheese and lime green jell-o. So did Nickel, plus some of mine and whatever he wanted off of Bryon's tray, including most of his chocolate creme oreo pie. At one point I was spoonfeeding the little eating machine (airplane-style), cheese and whipped cream and mashed potatoes up to my elbows, and I looked across the table at Bry. I think I realized something.....it felt oddly right. I was having fun.

After lunch we dropped them at home, promising to reveal the aforementioned treat if they took a nap, which was a grand struggle involving alot of rollicking around the house and furious protestations from all sides.

Bry and I finally escaped for the afternoon and went for a meander in the mountains. Ascending the back road out of Sannafay, we wound our way up through red granite hills and through aspen woods, up to the top. It was clear and beautiful, with the plain laid out shimmering in front of us, and crisp green shade all around. We trekked up the ski hill, poking at rocks along the way and  pigging out on trail mix, when we discovered a pair of gynormous steel cisterns plunked in the woods. We dared each other to climb the ladder, but it turns out we're both wusses. So we stopped by a little meadow with a stream trickling through it and rested and contemplated the grass. I realized I didn't recognize most of the plants around me, which is strange since in my own eastern woods i can name all sorts of green things, and the properties of some of the more useful ones. But i was in a strange land. Oddly, though, I felt like i ought to be there.

I fell asleep that night, well-fed on homecooked dijon-apricot baked chicken, thinking about plants and where my home is.

Saturday August 16.

Bryon woke up first, nudged me, and asked what I wanted to do for the day. I suppose there is something exceptional about Saturdays in which anything seems possible. We decided radiotelescopes were very possible.

We drove south through Albequerque, into the empty lands beyond the city. I couldn't believe how open and lovely the landscape was....so entirely beyond human scale. I imagined myself walking down the long straight endless stretches, and wondered how long it would take me to reach the mountains.

Bryon says that when he lived there, he remembers watching the moon rise over the mountain. It sounded poignant, but simple. I felt like i knew a moment like that, too, and I very possibly was seeing and feeling things right then that would be locked in my memory like a moonrise over the open plain. Except now I was in love with hills, and cloud shadows.

We reached the Very Large Array, in the middle of nowhere, locked in a belt of brief sunshine. Three thunderstorms were coasting in on our valley, dragging sheets of rain along beneath them. We lingered inside for a bit and made fun of the informative video presentation they had in the visitors center (lemme just say, astronomers dorking it out in plaid flannel, whoooeee) then trekked out to the nearest dish. Then the rain came, and we scampered back to the car and came home.

Sunday, August 17.

Outside of Albequerque there are some big blue mountains called the Sandias, and a whole bunch of interesting rigamarole up top. We got up at a leisurely hour, an meandered down to the foot of the slope, and hopped on the tram to the top. It's pretty funny being cooped up in a little suspended box with a bunch of tourons (tourists + morons) while hanging hundreds of feet above the rocks. Silly people. I was having fun imagining myself being dashed against those boulders far below, like a little perversion to my bliss. Bryon tucked his arm around my waist while we peered down below and out over the valley, and it felt marvelous to be near him in the middle of such a huge landscape, feeling so small.

At the top we poked around on the observation deck, enjoying the cool air and warm sun. The mountains had always seemed to be an eastern wall against the back of the city, and we found a nev view beyond them. According to the map we knew where the place was, but when you live at the foot of the sandias you spend most of your time tracking up and down along their edges in the valley, and rarely cross beyond. This revelation made us hungry, so we hid out in the lodge for a while and had some lunch and discussed our adventures. Later on we found a nice rock to sit on over a cut in the mountains, and i took a picture of my feet and the world beyond to send to Kerri.

After we descended the slope we decided to poke around Albequerque and see if we could find any rock shops, but those sorts of things are elusive, so we went home to sannafay. I had a nap, and then steak for dinner later that night. Moo.

Monday August 18.

Taos. It was a dream. I was there. And you could buy any number of crappy touristy concho-laden feather encrusted puffy-painted doodads to remember that dream. There were coffee-purveying cowgirls in hoop earrings and SUV's on Kit Carson Road and a walmart just outside of town, next to the dilapidated auto parts store....it was so different from what I remember. It might have broken my heart to see it like that, but there was something there that was still the same, as the post rainstorm sunlight gleamed on the roofs of the plaza, and i could feel the mountain behind me and the rolling desert out beyond the walls and fields. There was some art that didn't belong there. There was a fountain under a cottonwood tree. There were turquoise painted vegas and lopsided adobe walls, and crooked flagstones at the foot of some steps, an arch leading to a walkway, flowers at tables, grass by the side of the curb.

After so much waiting and longing and memory, it was really Taos.

there is more.

Homesick

The truth is, the moment my plane took off at Albequerque and turned into the morning sun, it hurt like nothing else, like I was being torn from the landscape.  When I saw the mountains pass under me and all the valley and the desert spread out as far as I could see, it broke my heart. I didn't want to leave. I think I must have cried halfway to Texas.

I don't really know how to write about where I was or what happened. I can't describe my love. I'd been waiting for most of my life to go back, like some kind of pilgrimage in the desert, to see the sky and the ripples of cloud and the endless stretches of empty land. I suppose it sounds like nothing at all, it's just another somewhere, empty and desolate and completely ordinary to most people. But for me, and all my longing, it is so much more.

I guess I should just begin with what i feel.

Bryon brought me back to Taos. We wandered around in the plaza, drove into the hills, and peered down into the gorge in the desert.  It was just like i remembered. Being there was a little overwhelming, although at the time I had no idea how to say anything about it. I thought for sure I would break down the moment I set foot there, but instead i felt happy and fulfilled and loved. I don't think this was just because of the place itself, but all the import and intuition I'd attached to it for so long. It's been pulling at me for ten years; I always told myself that someday I would be there again, and I'd be just that more complete because of it. And when i reached that destination someone would be there with me who I could love just as much as I love the mountains and the sagebrush, and I'd know where i was meant to be. I guess most people fall in love with other people to find that missing part of themselves, while my first love has always been tucked away at the foot of a desert mountain. It just so happens that I found both kinds, just as I'd hoped, in the very same place.

Thank you, Bryon. I love you.