The Office Fridge

Thursday, January 31, 2008

My heart was warmed this morning by the glory that is passiveagressivenotes.com; it made me mildly nostalgic for my pre-pregnancy office days, since the office is essentially a haven for passive aggressive note leaving. I wasn't surprised at all to see so many "To the Loser Who Ate My Sandwich:" notes, as I've experienced mysterious lunch thievery myself.

If you've never worked in an office before, you might be blissfully unaware of this epidemic. If you're a sane person such as myself, the idea of taking someone else's food, which they brought from home, out of a shared fridge and eating it seems completely bizarre and also, frankly, pretty gross. I'm not even talking about just frozen Michaelina's or other prepackaged foods here, I'm talking Chinese food leftovers, hand made sandwiches, pretty much anything you can think of. Apparently there are human beings on the planet that honestly see no problem with taking someone else's ham sandwich out of it's plastic bag and eating it.

The mystery of who steals the opened, unlabeled, previously handled food in every office (and it's happened in every one I've ever worked in, by some miracle of oddness) will probably never be solved. It's just one of many strange things about office culture that I think should be studied anthropologically- something about the copy machines and the cubicles and all the slate gray carpeting does something rare and special to the brain. Could it be that these food swipers are sincerely starving people, people so destitute that my leftover pasta alfredo from Olive Garden is not just the only source of sustenance they'll receive all day, but is also the only thing keeping them alive?

Don't get me wrong, I'm no office saint; I admit to having on a few occasions poured myself a cup of coffee without putting the required quarter in the Coffee Fund jar, but come ON. A quarter a cup is RIDICULOUS, and at least I saw the coffee making process from start to finish on my OWN. I know exactly what's in there and I also happen to know the person who poured that cup of coffee I'm drinking (me) doesn't have some strange disease or otherwise unpleasant personal habits, you know what I mean?

No one apparently ever sees these food thieves at work, either; the pure brazenness of their actions seems to shield them from capture. Maybe it's a compulsion, like shoplifting? Are these people feeling so beaten down by working in a shitty office every day that their one source of self empowerment is swiping other people's mediocre food, forcing them to eat honey buns from the vending machine for lunch?

Hopes, & Steiner-Waldorf Education

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Even though the baby isn't born yet, David and I have spent a lot of time discussing it's education. While we both consider ourselves to be a little "out there" when it comes to "modern life" and our opinion of it, childhood education is one of the places where we differ the most in that regard. David waivers between homeschooling and no formal type of education at all. He, like me, sees human beings as just highly intelligent animals and is skeptical of anything that goes against our nature. His ideal would be to educate the child in an environment similar to a commune where "school" would be a meetinghouse for the children of only the three of four other families who lived in the area, taught at different points by different adults from the group. He rejects completely the idea of structured education, or curriculum in general. If it were up to him we would teach our child with personal wisdom and life experience only, which is a beautiful idea, you know? It truly is. We have an almost identical world view, and I see his points and understand completely where he's coming from.

"My* struggle is that I want to do everything in my power to encourage this child to be a completely fulfilled individual, in every way, and I realize "individual" could very well mean not like me. Farmhouses without electricity, wood stoves and goat milking sounds like heaven to me, but what if the Lima Bean grows up and WANTS to be a cloned beef-eating personal injury lawyer living in the very heart of NYC? I would feel terrible and like a failure if the lifestyle choices I forced upon him or her at a young age kept him/her in ANY way from fulfilling his/her dreams, regardless of whether or not I personally agree with their choices. There's also the issue of socialization- I want this child exposed to lots of different kinds of children, people and families. As a child who attended an Air Force Base school until 7th grade, I was fortunate to make friends with all sorts of people from different parts of the US and other countries, an experience I'd never trade.

At the same time, the idea of exposing my child to the current environment of the underfunded, overcrowded public school system (particularly in Massachusetts, where the UTTER BULLSHIT of the MCAS test is still required and raging) strikes fear into my heart. I also cringe at the idea of my child growing to hate learning because of dispassionate teachers and rigid curricular requirements, which is what eventually happened to me. I could read on my own by the age of 2, I was a published poet by age 11, but by the time I graduated from high school I was completely apathetic and almost didn't graduate with my class. I couldn't imagine not doing everything in my power to prevent that from happening to my own child.

(Disclaimer:) I just want to point out that I see the necessity for a public school system that is free to every child. My mother has been a public school teacher my entire life, and I would never in a million years suggest that the public education system should be abolished or privatized in any way. Public education (and the state it's in) is a class issue, and something I won't get into right now. Desperate and drastic changes sorely need to be made that I don't see happening in the near future. My less than positive view of modern, anti-love, anti-spiritual society (particularly among "intellectuals") is one of the reasons I don't see these changes being made. Some may see this opinion as hypocritical, but I'm willing and prepared to do whatever needs to be done to provide my child with the richest, most magical life I can possibly provide. Call me whatever names you want.

So the other day I was poking around the internet, like you do, and I stumbled across a Wikipedia article on Steiner-Waldorf education, an approach to education that focuses primarily on seeing learning as an art form, holistic and spiritual. It was a revelation to me knowing that there were so many people out in the world whose ideas about education and child development were so similar to mine. This was also the first time I'd heard about the anthroposophical view of the human being, an idea I had no idea existed anywhere aside from my own head. I admit that I initially was so excited that I didn't take cost and location into mind. It would be just my luck that something as closely aligned with my belief system would only be available in Europe or California, right? Or cost a million dollars to attend, bringing us back to the class issue I mentioned earlier.

To my surprise, though, Steiner-Waldorf is actually the fastest growing form of alternative education in this country, and there were 6 different schools listed as being in Massachusetts. One in particular caught my eye, The Hartsbrook School in Hadley, MA. 19 acres of green land with an agricultural curriculum ("sheep, goats, chickens, rabbits, vegetable and flower gardens" !!) on TOP of the educational values I prize so much. This quote from the Hartsbrook School's website sums it all up for me:

"Academic subjects are presented imaginatively to engage the whole-hearted participation of the students: physically, cognitively and emotionally, incorporating movement, music, modeling, painting and drawing along with traditional skills."

Anyone who knows David and I knows that this baby will inevitably need to be engaged emotionally and creatively to learn. David and I are both highly emotional people and it scares me a little bit to imagine what sort of person our combined energies have created, haha. I'm officially in love, but is it too good to be true?

The cost, well... 10k a year. Yeeugh! I know, I know- it seems outrageous and totally beyond the scope of anything I've ever paid for in my entire life. I've never even had a car that cost that much! It seems bleak, but they offer tuition assistance to qualified families and there's a good chance we'd qualify with one income. I also feel so strongly about educating my child in this kind of environment that I'd be willing to make all sorts of sacrifices, including only having one child. I'd much rather raise one with all the resources it needs regardless of cost then cut corners with two or three and wish I hadn't.

I can tell that David is sort of ambivalent, confused about how it will fit into our lives and also the pretentious ramifications of being private school parents. But the more I read about Steiner-Waldorf education, and the Hartsbrook School in particular, the more certain I feel. How could I not?

Waldorf Answers
American's for Waldorf Education
Toward Wholeness: Rudolf Steiner Education in America by M.C. Richards
Rudolf Steiner Web

poetry in general, and "PERSEPHONE : Reprise" by Diane di Prima

Friday, January 25, 2008

I've always said that I understand why most people don't read or enjoy poetry, and that's the truth. There are a lot of people in the world who immediately close their minds to anything they view as "vulnerable" (I'm about to use this word a lot) or "melodramatic," and considering the bullshit we're all forced to read and "interpret" in high school (I grew up in Western Mass, so for us it was Emily Dickinson) I don't blame or fault anyone for dismissing poetry if they do.

But that also means I hold an extra special place in my heart for the people who DO love it. I feel like, maybe foolishly, I can be more honest and share more of myself with people who appreciate good poetry. I think it speaks to a soul softness rarely found in people anymore (especially folks in my generation). We're such a masculine society now that there doesn't seem to be any more room for simplicity, beauty and vulnerability, not with all the extra room we seem to now need for sex and war and misogyny. What most people don't realize is that what most see as "weakness" is actually an amazing source of stregnth. Saul Williams, in his amazing letter to Oprah Winfrey concerning whether or not hip hop emcees can also be called poets, had this to say about vulnerability as power:

"You may recall that in immediate response to the attacks of September 11th, our president took the national stage to say to the American public and the world that we would "...show no sign of vulnerability". Here is the same word that distinguishes poets from rappers, but in its history, more accurately, women from men. To make such a statement is to align oneself with the ideology that instills in us a sense of vulnerability meaning "weakness". And these meanings all take their place under the heading of what we consciously or subconsciously characterize as traits of the feminine. The weapon of mass destruction is the one that asserts that a holy trinity would be a father, a male child, and a ghost when common sense tells us that the holiest of trinities would be a mother, a father, and a child: Family. The vulnerability that we see as weakness is the saving grace of the drunken driver who because of their drunken/vulnerable state survives the fatal accident that kills the passengers in the approaching vehicle who tighten their grip and show no physical vulnerability in the face of their fear. Vulnerability is also the saving grace of the skate boarder who attempts a trick and remembers to stay loose and not tense during their fall. Likewise, vulnerability has been the saving grace of the African American struggle as we have been whipped, jailed, spat upon, called names, and killed, yet continue to strive forward, mostly non-violently, towards our highest goals. But today we are at a crossroads, because the institutions that have sold us the crosses we wear around our necks are the most overt in the denigration of women and thus humanity. That is why I write you today, Ms. Winfrey. We cannot address the root of what plagues Hip Hop without addressing the root of what plagues today's society and the world." (read the rest of his amazing letter here)

That being said, I read a poem this morning that made me cry. Even though I've been blocked myself and unable to write for nearly a year now, I still make it a point to read poetry every day. I feel like it keeps me grounded in who I was and am. Granted, as a pregnant lady it's not terribly difficult to make me cry, but this poem seems special to me. Maybe it's subject matter concerning my current condition, maybe it's the amazingly strong bond I have with my own mother, but I feel like this poem speaks a truth about femininity that's often dismissed.

PERSEPHONE : Reprise, Diane di Prima

one "life" is not more real than the other
not in "deflowering" do we come
into bloom; we have been always


there at the fluid boundary of Hades
we spring continuously into life & death
this is the province of the co-emergent mother
this is the daughter, sixteen, wrathful & ready


nor is the daughter separate from the mother
fruit within fruit; a sweetness
known only at the source where the fountain
                                           divides
                                           becomes itself
where fruit & seed & flower dance equally
exchanging shapes         exchanging essences


there is no knife can sever me from her
where I go down to bleed, to birth, to die

The Terribly Unsexy Truth About Pregnancy

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

I never thought I would have children, to be honest. I always worried that I was too restless and fickle to be a good mother. The unborn human peanut and I have an understanding, though; essentially, the limits of what I previously thought I was capable of putting up with for love are being tested and redrawn every day. Four months in, I haven't had the grandest, easiest time; I'm certainly still not one of those "pregnancy is beautiful" types. I'm officially one of those lucky moms who has persistent morning (afternoon & night) sickness well past their first trimester, I can't run around and jostle myself with fun anymore, I fall asleep on the couch at 8pm with friends over, I face unimaginable boredom every day, my life is completely changing, more and more every day but- somehow I'm still pumped beyond belief and already filled to the gills with love for the Littlest One. Amazing what a little maternal instinct will do, isn't it?

Pregnancy is, above all things, strangely magical and insanely creepy. Considering that anyone with a working womb is allowed to do it, I think the truth should be put right out there for everyone. No one ever told me this shit, probably because they figure it would scare me off of the idea completely.

1.) Your brain will shrink (temporarily); My boyfriend David read this in a book for expectant fathers, which sent me running to the internet to confirm. It turns out it's true; the baby is drinking my brain. Does this mean my most core inner-workings were created with the help of my mother's brain fluid? Should I include a thanks for this in my next mothers day card?

2.) If you don't want stretch marks, you have to put the belly balm on three times a day; If you're as lazy as I am, you'll hate this as much as I do. Retreating to the bedroom three times a day to slime myself with "belly butter" is not my idea of a good time. Naively I thought a little rub down with some lotion when I got out of the shower would be enough- not so. Goo it up, ladies.

3.) A lot of the initial weight you gain goes to places other than your belly; Strangers won't ooh and ahh over your pregnant physique until AFTER you've looked like a trucker for 6 months. The only word I can think of to describe this process is "thickening." I've just been thickening, for months now, like one of those pellets you put in water that slowly expands to become a sea turtle shaped sponge, except I'm a lot less cute. My sponge is.... vaguely blob-like in nature.

4.) Your breasts do get bigger, but they're so sensitive/itchy/achy that it doesn't even matter; At this point, if it were up to me I would just not wear shirts, ever. Seriously.

5.) You get hairy; going along with our previous trucker theme, you'll notice hair starting to grow in places it never did before, and never should have to begin with. It grows in dark, it grows in fast, it grows in on your stomach and your face. Maybe there was a cavelady somewhere a few thousand years ago who was thankful for this development, but it doesn't help me all that much.

I'm sorry- I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't care about you.