Stories of People Fainting.

Last night/this morning I dreamt that I had a baby girl. Her hair was dark brown, sprawling on top of her small head. In the dream, it seemed clear that it had been some time since I had given birth to this child, about a year or so. I was back in Ann Arbor, and it was summer. The entire dream took place in the middle of the day, and the sun was out in full force. For some reason, I wasn't compelled to protect my baby from the sun with a hat or Coppertone. And throughout the day, it felt like no one was happy about my having this child in my life, except me. The people I cared about were ignoring me in a way that normally would have hurt me very deeply, but just then I didn't care at all. I was just pleased as punch to have this tiny thing in my arms. Strange, at the moment the idea of having children is far from my thoughts. At one point in the same dream, I was back at high school, I think I was visiting or something. I was sitting on the floor in one of the classrooms, and there was a teacher there I had never seen before, this short woman with short black curls. She had her glasses placed at the very tip of her nose, the way my mom used to wear her reading glasses before she had to get a stronger prescription. She was leading the class in a discussion on whether or not the school should start initiating each day with the Lord's Prayer, and so I started in with my objections. And she just kept glaring at me over the tip of her nose.

Earlier today, I almost slipped and fell down one of the flights of stairs in my apartment. Luckily, I was able to grab onto one of the railings with my arm, and so I only slipped down about four steps. No serious injuries, just a sore arm and I might find a couple bruises on my backside tomorrow morning. I broke the piece of railing off in my fall, however.

How frightening would it be if I had fainted on those stairs? I've never fainted before, but the whole idea of it makes me uncomfortable. You're walking along, going about your normal routine when suddenly, BOOM! You're on the floor, unconscious. There are many things that can cause a person to faint, such as low blood pressure, or lack of sleep. Still, the idea of fainting has a mystery to it I think. I spoke to my dad earlier, and he told me this story of how he had once fainted. He was in high school back in New Hampshire, and he had come home late one night, so late that everyone else was fast asleep. Back then, he enjoyed taking showers at night before going to bed. So he did, and once he was clean he headed to hid room and changed into his pajamas. And just before getting into bed, his vision became cloudy, almost blue. His field of vision started to blur, and then he lost consciousness. He woke up moments later on his bedroom floor. He thought he might have been out for two to three minutes at the most. And then he just got up, settled into bed and fell asleep. It hasn't happened to him since.

We'll Just See How This Goes...

My trip to Chicago brought back all kinds of blustery feelings. I traveled back for the AWP Conference, and of course to see some old friends. The place smelled different than when I had left it some six months ago. The wind that used to irritate me, instead felt invigorating. There are moments in New York (Manhattan especially) when I wish that there was more wind to carry away the stenches of the traffic congestion, and the piles of garbage that sit on the edge of the curb. There aren't many alleys here. I suppose that was something about Chicago that I took for granted. The abundance of back alleys, each one equipped with several giant dumpsters. You could just open one up, toss your trash in and forget about it. In New York, everyone's garbage is out in the open, exposed. But I'm sure it's like most things. You just get used to it.

Living here has made me impatient when it comes to public transportation. Being directly off the G train in Bed-Stuy isn't always the most reliable way to get around, and in fact it reminds me of the trains in Chicago. Sitting backwards on the "L" and watching one part of the city pull itself away as I move towards another, there are still the classic delays. The stops and starts. Even when it's going at a steady pace, it can feel painful. Before moving out here and truly realizing what I was missing, I think I gave the "L" too much credit. Sure, there were always moments of frustration, but in my mind I had to treat it like the little engine that could. Chug, chug, chugging along, like so many things in the Midwest.

On my last train ride early in the morning, my CTA pass slipped out of my fingers onto the tracks. There couldn't have been more than two dollars on it, but still.

My grandma Hanke passed away that same week. I had received a voicemail from my mom early that Thursday afternoon, but she didn't mention any of it. Her voice carried no sense of urgency. She got a hold of me in the evening, while we were waiting for a table at my favorite all-you-can-eat sushi buffet. She was vague in the voicemail, because she didn't want to upset me while I was at the conference. "Grandma passed away today," she said, very calm. "She went peacefully." She told me that she wouldn't have been able to put me on the phone with her before she died, that she was just too far gone. Because of the conference, I felt like I needed to mentally force myself to repress it in order to keep focused on why I was there. It's so strange, but it still hasn't fully hit me yet. When my other grandparents died, I started sobbing immediately upon finding out. I'm sure it'll get me when I fly out to California for the memorial service.

I suppose that last part might have been a little morbid for my first blog post, but I suppose those were my circumstances. 

Here's something good. A love poem that the folks at the W. W. Norton table gave me while I was roaming the book fair at AWP. They were giving them out for Valentine's Day.

'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?

Oh wilt thou therefore rise from me?

Why should we rise because 'tis light?

Did we lie down because 'twas night?

Love, which in despite of darkness brought us hither,

Should in despite of light keep us together.

Light hath no tongue but all is eye;

If it could speak as well as spy,

This were the worst that it could say,

That being well I fain would stay,

And that I lov'd my heart and honor so

That I would not from him, that had them, go.

Must business thee from hence remove?

Oh that's the worst disease of love,

The poor, the foul, the false, love can

Admit, but not the busied man.

He which hath business, and makes love, doth do

Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.

-John Donne