Beloved Community

Ryan is out of town.

But it's ok.

I have my blogs.

For the last couple weeks, Ryan and I have managed to eat dinner together every night. This habit has been facilitated by his unprecedented and much-reinforced willingness to make the dinner. While I am out fretting around town, cursing the day I applied to my Masters program instead of getting knocked up like a normal person, he is home making vegan split pea. I come home in a panic; he washes the salad. We sit down to eat and I light candles because this, this is special, and who knows how long it will last.

Having a wife rocks.

Tonight I am sitting at the table alone. I made my own salad, and I candied the nuts to make up for the hug that wasn't there when I walked in the door. I sat down to my dinner, and lit the candles. And then I busted out my computer. I'm not one to eat alone.

In high school and college I had things just as I liked them. It was All Friends All the Time. I love friends. I love facebook, superficiality be damned. I love reading blogs. I like to know where you people are. Some of the time, I even like updates on how the toilet-training is going, although I maintain you should keep those posts to a minimum. I read your blogs, even though you most likely don't read mine. I read about your Valentine's Day traditions, your job frustrations, your recipes. I read what you're reading about and why. I read about Ryan's cousins, hobbies I'll never take up, people I hardly know. I read all of it and I read it every day. I love it.

It is only now, in this moment, as I chew my spinach and miss my man, that I realize very nearly all the blogs I follow are written by women. I'm not surpised. I do so love the women.

One day I hope to live in what bell hooks calls beloved community. I want to live intentionally, and I want to live with all of you. In a giant cul-de-sac. We can have potlucks. Ryan will bring the split pea soup.

Until then, ladies, keep blogging.

Helping Others

I have been awake since 3:00 this morning.

This is not unusual. I decided today at 5:15 am that 3:00 am- 6:00 am are my least favorite hours of the twenty four I have access to, and yet I experience them more than hours I find likable, like 6:00 am- 9:00 am, for example.

I only slept for four hours last night, too.

I generally wake up, spend several hours thinking of Very Important Things, compose a list of Action Steps, finally get out of bed to Take Action, and get on facebook instead. After exhausting facebook's entertainment potential, I go back to sleep for just long enough to ensure I will be a complete zombie for the rest of the day.

As soon as I am done with this inane post, I will read the assigned chapters for my class tonight. I will read about theories of career counseling, an assignment designed to help me help others.

At 3:00 this afternoon I will see a client. For some sick reason, I never seem to sleep more than four hours on nights when I have a client scheduled the following day. I don't think the waking is caused by anxiety about the appointment; it feels more like a sick twist of fate to me. Either way, the consequence is that instead of listening to my client and providing helpful feedback or asking relevant questions most likely my focus will remain on willing my body to stop yawning. Can you imagine anything worse than seeing a counselor who keeps yawning through the session? I can't.

I got an A in stats, a class required for graduation. On the other hand, I fail to maintain basic life functioning fairly often. Lucky for me, this is not a graduation requirement. I question the legitimacy of giving a degree in helping others to a person who can't even sleep through the night herself, but I didn't make the rules.