Matching Tracksuits

Fun in Fours

Results For "Month: June 2000"

Pros and Cons

Sunday 25 June 2000

I’m still thinking about going back to Lipnica. I can’t help it. Every day I think about it, and while it seems completely unrealistic in some ways, there are moments when I’m completely sure I’ll go back for at least class II’s final year (this year’s class II, which I guess is now class III).

C and I talked about my seeming depression the other evening. She said that I seem to have lost interest in almost everything. I never read, so I never have anything to talk about; I don’t write, so my thoughts don’t get developed as they used to be. That’s only a partial explanation, though. I didn’t tell her all the things that I keep thinking about. I didn’t tell her, “I’m thinking about going back to LW for one more year,” and that’s the simplest answer to the question of, “What’s wrong?”

The long answer to that question is much more convoluted. I’m depressed because on the one hand, I can only think of Lipnica and how much I want to go back, and on the other, I realize that I never will. I’m fighting that “never will” notion every day because I don’t want to resign myself to something I know I truly want, even if it’s only a portion of me that really wants this. The other layer to this is that I know I need to go out and do something to give myself some kind of fulfillment, but doing that, I’m afraid, will make me give up completely on the dream of going back to Lipnica. I want to give it up — I want to be content with where I am in my life now. But giving it up is the absolute last thing I want, at the same time.

I’m confusing two things: going back to Lipnica for a while, and going back to Lipnica for good. I seem to be equating the former with the latter, assuming that once I get back there, I won’t want to return, that I’ll want to stay there for good. But I don’t really know that. I might get there and realize that I really don’t belong there. I might get there and after a while absolutely hate it. But if I did that, at least I would come back here with that knowledge and I could remind myself every time I thought about Lipnica, “I did try to go back for a while and I didn’t like it.” I can imagine C responding to that by reminding me how much I hated it when I was there last time — at the end, from time to time, anyway. But that is completely different. I thought then that I wanted to come back to the States and get a doctorate in philosophy of religion. I’ve now dropped out of grad school, and I realize that what I want to do now — at this moment — is go back to Lipnica.

I guess I should talk to C about this. I don’t really know how to bring it up, though. “I’m thinking about living away from you for yet another year.” That’ll go over really well. And besides, to know really things would have to be somewhat flexible, I think. Coded talk for, “I’d want freedom to fuck around.” So how do I go about doing something like that? Bringing up such a topic? I’ve no idea.

  • I’ve got all these thoughts about what I’d do there, though:
  • riding my bike here and there (getting a road bike for really long Sunday rides);
  • cross-country skiing in the winter (learning how to first, of course);
  • visiting Charles (maybe riding my bike there) and helping him out in his garden/hard;
  • traveling around the country a bit;
  • Friday and Saturday nights with friends (though this would be somewhat limited, since almost no one would be living there).

In some ways, my reasons for going seem to be fewer than I might have expected. The other day (14 June) I made the following list while sitting at the Sullivan Square bus stop:

ForAgainst
Lack of ultimate job fulfillmentC
Not sure about whether I want to go to IndiaBullshit from other teachers
Desire for a family eventuallyCost
Really genuinely want toAdam
Best friends thereDanuta not there
Sense of continual adventureNot sure if my friends are staying

Always an outsider

Lack of ability to communicate

From that, it seems just about even. The “Really genuinely want to” entry is something of a cop-out, I guess. And at the same time, it’s the strongest reason why I should go, if I still feel this way. I wrote at the bottom of the entry, “I have to go back for a year. It’s the only way I can be sure.”

The real question — I just realized — is this: Is all this an effort to help myself decide whether I want to go back, or an attempt to justify what I’ve already decided to do? I don’t know.

I do know that I’ve been almost relieved sometimes when C and I are arguing because it seems to be “ammo.” I don’t know. I’m screwed.

Remember Lipnica

Sunday 18 June 2000

Yet another week has slid by. “The world I know,” sings Lead-Singer-For-Collective-Soul, and I’m thinking about the world I know (surprise, surprise) and the world I want. Lipnica is still on my mind. What’s new. I’m taking two pictures to work tomorrow to decorate my cube a little — two pictures of Lipnica, of course. One of them is just of a bridge after a heavy rain and snow run-off — a fairly “normal” bridge there: two trees chopped down, extended over the Lipniczanka with some boards across the top to make it a semi-flat surface. Something I saw so many times without even thinking about it. And now — I look at it and a flood of memories (not all of them even related) washes over me.

I’m tired of being here.

I’ve been thinking about Benia a lot lately. I don’t think I ever wrote in detail about what happened between us when I was in Lipnica. In short, we became friends. Not something that happens every day, I think.

It all began the second Friday night at Żurek. (In a way, it’s too bad this didn’t happen that first night. Then again — I wouldn’t have had that perfect night with Kamil and Janusz, listening to Lightning Hopkins.) We really didn’t talk while inside, but as everyone was leaving I started talking to her — just for a moment, I thought. But as she waited for her group to decide what it wanted to do, we sat down on the steps at Quattro and started talking, not just chatting emptily. As she struggled with her English, I told her, “You can speak Polish — I understand.” And that was how most of the rest of the evening/morning’s conversation went. She told me there that everyone thinks she’s always happy and it’s difficult because when she’s actually sad, no one really think it’s something serious.

But the really touching part of the conversation came just after that — about guys. “I meet a guy,” she said,’ “And everything seems to be going well and then he says, ‘Benia, idziemy do łóżka.’” I sat there feeling somewhat personally indicted. “Everyone wants that. Every guy in the bar tonight would love to get you in bed,” I thought to myself. I didn’t say such a thing, though. Instead, I simply told her that most guys are like that, and that most guys who try to touch her within a week or so of meeting her would likely end up saying, “Benia, idziemy do łóżka.”

By this time everyone had moved to the area in front of the gmina, so Benia and I walked over that way, but we stood alone, under the single light at the centrum bus stop. A friend of hers — I can’t remember — kept coming over and hassling her, and she kept tell him just to leave. “Chcę rozmawiać z Garem,” she said patiently but firmly — indicating a bit more strength that might be evidenced by her generally smiling face.

Finally, we decided she should just walk back, and I volunteered to walk her back — to Murawanice. We left centrum sometime around three in the morning, and I got in bed about two hours later. But it was well worth it. In some ways, it was the best part of my whole time there. As we walked along, she said — in Polish — “I can’t believe this! Four years ago, when you first walked into our classroom, I would never believe that four years later we would be walking along like this, talking like good, old friends.” And we were talking like old friends — I really felt more comfortable with her than I had with someone in a long time. It’s not that I was telling her secrets or anything. It was just a comfortable, pleasant conversation.

She wasn’t at Quattro Saturday night, so Sunday, while Kinga and I were out for a bike ride (the bike ride during which she said, “You think like a woman!” because I said that it wasn’t fair that her dad goes to play volleyball — basically have a day off — while it was business-as-usual for her mom), I decided I would stop by Benia’s to see if she was going to be at Quattro and if not, to say goodbye. I approached her house and, I heard from inside, “Benia, masz gość.” It was her sister, Kamila, and I got to the door just as it Benia came to see who it was. I went up to her room with her — I think Kamila offered to stay in the room with us, which Benia waved off, I think (of course, I could be mistaken about the whole exchange). We sat and talked for a little while; she made me promise to send her some of my poetry, which I forgot to do when I wrote to her last week; we talked about music (she has the Kaya-Bregovic CD and we talked about which songs we like); a friendly, safe chat. Kinga came up and she and Benia talked for a while, including Benia’s admission, “I hate English.” I immediately thought of her letter. She explained, somewhat unnecessarily, “I’m just no good at foreign languages in general.”

Now that I’m back, I find myself wondering what would happen between us if I were there. No, I’m not thinking romance — just deep friendship. I think we could be great friends. I think we have a lot of similarities — wanting to trust people but not being quite able to justify it all the time; like people in general; wanting to help people, somehow.

So I guess it’s time for an update on my “I have to go back to Lipnica” thoughts. They’ve calmed a bit, but only slightly. They were intense while Chhavi was gone. I’m listening to A Few Small Repairs and that album always makes me want to go back; if I’d listened to it a week ago, it would have been deadly.

Pride Parade

Sunday 11 June 2000

Two days in a row — something of a record for me, no doubt. I thought I’d write a little about what’s been going on at work, just for the hell of it. And because it ties in somewhat with all these thoughts of going back to Lipnica for a year.

First I think I’ll write about my bike ride yesterday. I was going to go on a very long ride and get very exhausted. Instead, I went on a very short ride and got very exhausted. I rode to the Common where, I discovered, they were having the Pride Day activities — for “Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals, Transgenders, and Allys.” I’ve no idea what an “Ally” is. For a moment, I thought (as I was typing that), “It must be ‘allies,’” but then I thought carefully about how to spell it and realized that either a) they must have misspelled it yesterday, or b) there’s something called an “Ally” of which I am completely unaware. At any rate, there was a concert (Joan Jett, I think — or someone playing several Joan Jett songs), some booths (including the “Long Dong” booth — I don’t know what it was, but there were lots of Chinese characters decorating the booth, so I’m assuming it might be an organization for gay Chinese Americans), and lots of same-sex couples being affectionate in public. It was a little strange to be walking through there. I kept thinking, “What if they’re looking at me saying, ‘What the hell is a straight guy doing in here?’” and of course it hit me — they’ve no idea.

Close to the visitors’ center there were three men with placards hanging around their necks saying, “[Rainbow triangle] = Hell!!!! Repent to Jesus.” Another read something like, “Sex out of marriage, homosexuality, masturbation, sex with condoms are condemned by God!!” Nice Catholic touch with the “sex with condoms” being made into a sexual sin. It was really sad to see them, though. Such intolerance. Such unhappiness. And how fulfilling can their life be if they think they worship a God how will condemn them to everlasting torment for touching themselves?

I was watching them — they were polite and quiet, and while their signs were offensive, they at least weren’t saying, “God hates fags.” I watched them, and I really saw them as fellow people — a nice change from thinking, “You backward asses!” They’re people — plain and simple. I completely disagree with everything they believe, but still I was able to separate that from their stupid, misguided intolerance and realizing that they’re doing this because they feel they must. It must pain them to think all these people walking by are going straight to hell when they die. It must make them feel guilty, in some way. “I’ve failed them! I didn’t lead them to repentance.” Of course God should be able to do that on his own, but that’s not their point of view on the matter. I wish I’d talked to them a little more than I did.

Now, on to DLG news: First, when I came in to work Tuesday 30 May, I rode up in the elevator with Armando. I noticed he was somewhat sullen — or maybe simply “quiet” is a better word choice — and as the elevator doors closed, he asked me if I’d heard about Rob. “I’m not sure, but I think he was fired Friday.” And that’s how my return to DLG began. I went to my cube, sat down, and wondered whether it was true. I knew that it was — I don’t know how I knew, but somehow it just made sense. Still, I didn’t know what to do, so after I checked my mail and did some other stuff, I went to Katherine in Western Civ 1 and asked her if there was anything I could do.

I don’t really feel like going into detail, actually. Suffice it to say, Rob, Dale, Matt (Searles, not Maslin), Nancy (the strange, middle-aged graphics woman), and Chris Conty got fired. The last one was a real shock — I didn’t have any idea how things were going on the other side, I guess, and I assumed that the “Director of Marketing” would get the axe.

Rob called me and we talked a bit — he said he was going to quit that week anyway. I think I know why: not only was he not happy with Val and others telling him what to do, but I think things were spiraling out of control. He had no management experience and I don’t think he’s really cut out for it, either. Anyway, one of my jobs was to go through his stuff and dig out any email addresses of people we might need to contact, figure out the status of various people’s contracts, &c. I found a series of emails between Rob and Kathleen (from somewhere in Canada) that were, in a word, disturbing. There were several misunderstandings about the contract: Rob screwed up and left in part of an old contract with Neusner and so it had something about writing Judaism terms and so on — something Kathleen had not agreed to do. At any rate, they worked that out, and then upper management pulled the plug on the religion textbook in general. Rob sent Kathleen another email, this time saying that he wasn’t going to be able to hire her now because of all this and so on. She sent back an email saying she was going to report DLG’s highly unethical hiring practices to the journal where she found the ad (I can’t remember which one it was) and this and that — basically a nasty email that I wouldn’t want to have received. At any rate, I don’t think Rob told anyone about it — it seemed to me that Celina and Val weren’t taking a “Oh, don’t worry about this — we’ve seen it and we’re taking care of it” type of attitude.

Of course I about screwed up in sending that stupid email to Neusner. I think, though, it was for the best. It showed Celina, Kate, and others first of all that I’m honest — I didn’t try to hide it, even though it crossed my mind. And second, it showed that I’m fairly responsible — even when I fuck up — and I want to clean up my own messes, so to speak.

I have to admit, though, that life at DLG without Rob is somehow more enjoyable. Less stressful for me, at any rate. And I don’t even think I realized it until he was gone. I felt he really had no idea how the textbook should be heading, yet he was very stubborn in that everything had to be his way. It’s a terrible thing to say, but I’m happier working with Katherine than I was working with Rob.

And of course now I know exactly how I report to, so to speak. Kali can herself be a pain in the ass to work with because she too is stubborn. But she seems to be more in control of what’s going on than Rob ever was. More responsible. More — in some ways — mature. I really got fucking tired of Rob bad-mouthing everyone: Kali, Val, Celina, Dale. (It’s funny that he and the one person he said he hated got fired at the same time.) Anyway, there seems to be a much clearer chain of responsibility now and that now-formalized structure gives me a sense of security, I guess. I know where I belong; I know to whom I answer — it’s better.

And of course that sucks. Part of me would rather hate working at DLG so that I would have more of an excuse to go back to Lipnica. But the truth of the matter is that I actually like it — at least this past week I’ve enjoyed it.

Saturday 10 June 2000

I woke up thinking about — guess — Lipnica. More specifically — for a moment I was absolutely sure of one thing. “I must go back,” I thought. “The decision is made: I’ll go back for one year at least. I’ll go back, help Halina, Kasia, Krystyna, et. al. though their final year at the liceum. And if I like it, I’ll stay. Maybe sign a four or five year contract in exchange for paying off some portion of my student loan. Something like that.” I smacked the pillow beside me and said aloud, “I think the decision is made. I think I’ll go back.” And for a brief moment, it was as clear and simple as that.

I’m listening to The Ghost of Tom Joad and feeling something like the characters in those songs — someone who’s lost something. Someone adrift. “It’s just dry lightning. And you on my mind.” I don’t have a person on my mind — and that’s part of the problem — but instead I’ve got a place. No, that’s not right. I do have people on my mind. Students, friends — most of my friends, in fact.

After transcribing some of my “journal” from my LW trip into last month’s WP version, I’m now listening to Beethoven’s Pastorale Symphony — on of my favorites, of course. The problem is that even this brings comparison of life in LW to life here. This incredible symphony is accompanied by the sound of passing cars, trucks, and busses. Not exactly conducive to fully enjoying it. In LW the only interruptions I might have would come from someone upstairs — and even that wasn’t constant. The damn cars going by our apartment — and, living on the front side, there’s no place in the apartment to escape it — is a constant annoyance.

I remember sitting on the bed in LW just before going to sleep, and realizing that as I sat there I didn’t hear a single sound. Nothing.

I still hate it here. I still want to go back. And I think I will for the rest of my life.

Thoughts Back at Home

Sunday 4 June 2000

I’m back in America. I have been for almost a week now. And I feel awful. Just as I suspected/expected I would. Even “just as I feared I would.” “Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault, nobody’s fault but my own,” sings Beck now, and I guess that’s somewhat appropriate. I don’t know if “fault” is the best word choice, but all the same . . .

I feel like I have a huge choice to make in about six months or so: stay or go. The implications are huge. I want to go back to Lipnica so badly it’s killing me — paralyzing me with depression sometimes. Yesterday I just lay on the couch, thinking, “I have to go back, and yet I can’t go back.”

Let’s way the pros and cons again, beginning with what I wrote some days ago — about a week ago, flying home:

As I write all that stuff, I think, “Now, most of these things aren’t really problems if I’m honest.” There’s plenty of people I have there, and the fact that the disco is now at Quattro (which is primarily a bar) seems to show how silly my worries were. My life there would be just what I want it to be. It’s simple: I work my ass off and become as nearly fluent in Polish as I can possibly be (barring grammatical perfection, that is), and who’s to say what my limits are?

My life here could be just what I want it to be if I’m honest. I can make anything of my life I want to here in Boston. The thing is, I don’t really want to.

So what are my options? One option seems most promising: go back for one year to see. I don’t know that I can ever stop thinking, “I might have made a terrible mistake in leaving,” unless I go back for a while and test the hypothesis. At any rate, that’s what I want to do. The implications of that are fairly substantial, though. I could say to Chhavi, “It’s just for a year — I just have to see for myself if I made a mistake,” but the obvious correlative of that is, “. . . and if I decide I did make a mistake, I’ll want to stay there.” When I left for Lipnica sometime next year, it would be worse than the first time I left (by then it will/would have been five years ago).

And here’s the shock: four years ago I’d just finished my first day of training in Radom. It’s around 4:30 in Poland now — I’d be just about to finish the first day. Four years ago. Four years. That’s 1,460 days ago. A long damn time. No, quite the opposite. Four years is almost nothing. Two years is nothing. I guess it’s true what they say about time going faster the older you get.

What I don’t want is to realize that I’ve been back from Poland for four years and think, “I’ve done nothing important with my life in that time.” I don’t want to think at the age of sixty, “I wasted my life, by and large.” And that’s exactly what I’m afraid will happen — unless I go back. I keep treating that as if it’s my only option, and it really isn’t. But it’s the only one I’m aware of; it’s the one I feel is sure to bring me happiness and fulfillment.

Two quotes — from the same song — seem particularly relevant now:

The nearer your destination,
the more you’re slip slidin’ away. . . .
A bad day’s when I lie in bed
and think of things that might have been.

What makes all this so difficult is that I could talk to someone in Lipnica about my dilemma — Teresa Wojciak, for example — and she would simply reply, “So come back.” How I wish it were that easy! I would have talked to Jasiu about coming back for this coming school year. Can you imagine the reaction of the students?!