Burgled

I was robbed again. My computer and camera were taken. I am blogging from the library again. Slowly I am meeting every officer in the police department. I still have my West Wing and Lord of the Rings boxed sets of DVDs.

Rainy Sunday

I am always surprised by how a worship service can improve my feelings. My church is pretty cool, but in an awkward kind of way. The people are strange, but they do not care. They keep pushing forward, going about their business with no shame, doing the best they can with what they have.

I arrived at church feeling pretty down. As I said in my earlier post, I was hit with loneliness after my party and it lingered to the morning. But then as I talked to the other congregants or heard their stories, I began to feel better. And it is not because I realized how much "easier" my life is, or because I compared my troubles to theirs. But instead, I felt better because I realized that we are all struggling with something. I am not the only one. During the prayers of the people, the woman next to me lifted up a prayer of thanksgiving for the months that she has been sober. The elderly woman in front of me shared her concerns for her husband and his failing health. Darlington talked about improved political changes in Zimbabwe, his home country. I was reminded that we are doing the best we can with what we have. And for many of us, what we have is each other.
The service is very casual. Although we have an order of service, there are often mistakes, and the congregation is sometimes unaware of what they "should" be doing. You may be thinking that my complaining about sitting vs. standing or reading the wrong scripture is petty, but errors detract from a well-planned service. They distract us from the important parts because we think about procedures.

Parties

Have you read Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf? As The Hours says it really is about a woman having a party, but it is so much more. Today I threw a party and I could not help but think about Mrs. Dalloway (or Clarissa) and what happens to her in the book. It is not a very exciting book because it is mundane. However, because so much of it resembles my thoughts and feelings I found the book to be enthralling.

I wondered why I threw the party today. Did I simply want to see my friends in one place? Did I want my friends to have a chance to spend some time together? Did I want to prove that I have friends? Or could I also have wanted to give an opportunity for my friends to meet each other? I am not entirely sure of what my answer is. I know that I like all of my friends. I like their attitudes and thoughts. I want to know how they think, and I appreciate every chance I have to spend with them. But given my anxiety as various people showed up today, I wonder how much I wanted them to like each other.

And, although I do not normally reveal my feelings on this blog, I was struck by how I felt as the remainder of my party left tonight. I wanted them to stay. I felt lonely and I just wanted them in my house longer. I know that there are various dynamics in my circle of friends that complicate these feelings, but I wanted more time with other people. I spent all day cleaning and cooking and waiting for others. I wanted more time with them. And I write this because it reminds me further of Mrs. Dalloway, who even though was surrounded by others, still felt lonely. I feel lonely, although I am surrounded by good friends, and I do not know how to break out of the feeling. Perhaps I just have to wait for it to pass.

5 Years in Wisconsin

and I have 7 different cheeses in my refrigerator. Asiago, Gouda, American, cheddar, mozzarella, feta, and cream.

Third Time...

I had 3 interactions with the Milwaukee Police Department this week. The first 2 were related. I witnessed a hit-and-run and gave a statement twice. Way to be efficient, MPD.

The third interaction occurred an hour ago as I was walking through an alley in my neighborhood. An unmarked car pulled up beside me, and the officer in the driver seat began a conversation with me as she was getting out of the car. She asked questions about how I was doing, but before I knew it my hands were in the air and I was being frisked. As I think back to the situation, I don't even know what I was saying. I know she was asking questions and I was answering them. Thank goodness I remember where I live and my phone number. Although I messed up my number the first time she asked. I did feel a little embarrassed when she asked why I was walking through the alley instead of on the street. I had noticed some houses for sale and I was checking them out. I wanted to compare the prices and see if the neighborhood was increasing or decreasing in value. Of course, crime waves tend to turn house values down. I showed the cops my list of houses that I was checking out. Then I realized that this could look as if I were casing the joints.

Luckily the cops believed my story. Actually I think the one recognized me from my break-in last May. I was sure to bring that up so that she would know that I am a victim, not a perp. As they pulled away and my adrenaline subsided I became very frightened. A friend of mine was mugged the last night at gunpoint, and apparently there was someone to be feared walking the streets in my general area.

I continued on my walk and I think the houses are overpriced. They are not nearly as good as my house. And that's with the broken water heater. Cold showers are good for me.

First Day, Second Year

I had a pretty good first day of school today. As long as the guidance department does not mess with my classes, I think I could really enjoy the students that are currently there. Although they may be crass, many seem to be serious students. Of course, "serious" in the context of my school.

The freshmen were particularly interesting today. I have the freshmen (all 15 of them) who are on track for AP calculus in their senior year. They asked such good questions and they sounded somewhat scared. Of course, one boy told us that the best part of his summer vacation was the restraining order that was finally enacted on his father. No training will ever prepare teachers for the things that students will say.

I had several students make remarks on my reputation. "Are you really as mean as they say?" "But I hear that you never get mad?" "Your classes are hard, right?" I like my reputation. Maybe it has a tinge of respect. I hope it has bought me some street cred.