Almost gone

My last full day in Boulder (if all goes according to the non-existent plan). Driving cross country for the first time tomorrow. I've never really driven anywhere before since I'm always flying. Today was total limbo day. Tying up loose ends, getting mail forwarded, changing a student's grade, giving food to Katie, randomly passing the frisbee with Nick, dinner and a movie with Caroline.

Boulder reinforced its title of most f-ed up weather in America. It was so hot this morning I thought I was going to pass out. Then, a storm was in the works--which never panned out--and now it's freaking freezing with--you will NOT believe this--reports of SNOW tomorrow.

F that. Pittsburgh (via Chicago) here I come. Real cities with real weather.

Because I walked about 58 miles today in flip flops, I thought I'd share my feet with you. I've had enough of my face anyway. Ew.


Goodness.

I am thoroughly convinced I have no idea what love is. I struggle with this regularly. The whole thing goes back to an observation I have made about myself which is that I have seemingly no sincere emotional responses. Everything is always so strategic. I can remember vividly instances in which I have received bad news and, in my mind, something like the following happens:
::processes information:: Ok, so, what is the proper way to respond to this? Furrow brow, widen eyes, gasp, search memory bank for consoling words.
It really bothers me. And this kind of reaction follows me in many facets of my life. I can say that the crying thing is natural. If I could turn that off, I would. But I have absolutely no control over that and so I am forever to be labeled as weak in situations where I become overwhelmed, angry, frustrated, or scared.

Anyway, I worry--sincerely worry--that I will never be able to surrender enough, to let go of the control my mind has over my emotions in such a way as to give over my heart to someone else.
Romantically, that is. And I do think there is a difference. The love I experience for my parents and closest friends is as real as it gets, no doubt. But, whatever the difference is between a romantic partner and a friend is the difference in what makes those emotions distinct. And so I really wonder about my ability to experience that. Am I too strategic? Am I too cynical? Am I simply not capable?

Maybe Hollywood has simply set the bar too high.

Maybe I am destined to be cold and alone.

Ha, whatever. Frisbee video! =D


Did I really just make him play fetch? I think there are more things wrong with me than we initially suspected.

the best things in life are a dollar, ninety-nine

My professor of record, that is, the lecturer for the class I TA for, is done with Comm1210 for good. He's taught this introductory survey course 16 times--the man deserves a medal. It's a hard class to teach. You are completely unappreciated. The course is a weeding out course, so students hate you. You never get to anything interesting because you spend a week on an entire NCA division. It's rough, and it sucks, and he did it for a long time.

And yet, when he gave his last lecture on Wednesday, he was impassioned, inspiring I would say. I respect Dr. Daniell (Dr. D, as he allows us to call him) tremendously, and I think he and I share a lot of feelings on Communication. It's that whole defeat thing. The "are we reaching them; can we reach them? Do they want to be reached?" attitude. Beyond these emotions, I think he was also feeling a sense of loss, or an identity crisis of sorts. He's been doing this for a long time after all, and, though he's not leaving the field or the department, it's a big transition.

Anyway, all of this is set up for the lesson at hand. In a simple gesture, one that I learned as common courtesy from my parents, I picked up a cheap, blank, plain "Thank You" card from the supermarket the other night. I brought it to class with me and told my students the above explanation, and said that, if they did, in fact, feel thankful for having Dr. D as a teacher, they could sign it and tell him. Most did, and I slipped it in his mailbox, really without a second thought. It's just what you do for people who matter to you.

And the way it touched him would be difficult to express here.

It was nothing special--no glorious act of courage or consideration on my part. But, it mattered to him. And I think it may have even mattered to my students, some of them at least, in some small yet significant way.

So this is my call to you, and the meaning of this post. Take the time, what little it really takes, and put forth the effort (also relatively small) to communicate what it means to you that somebody does the things that he does. Something so small. Something so large.

Our final CGSA outing. Lovely really.