Sleepless Nights, Seinfeld Moments and Random Thoughts

I went to the doctor yesterday. Three and a half weeks ago I had two roots canals in two days and so my head was virtually upside down for a total of about 5 hours. Then I flew to Rhode Island. The result was a feeling of massive build-up, blockage in my left ear. It was beginning to be painful, but mostly quite annoying. I thought I’d have to see an Ear, Nose and Throat guy, but for insurance purposes, before one can visit a specialist, one must get a referral from a primary care physician. My doctor, (who looks strikingly like Richard Reich, former Clinton Secretary of Labor) checked my ear and pronounced the diagnosis. I was suffering from “diver’s ear,” or middle ear barotraumas. Those of you who know that I suffer from aguaphobia and begin to hyperventilate whenever I am immersed in water up to my neck, realize the irony in this. Diver’s ear occurs when the Eustachian tube is blocked and pressure inside the ear cannot be equalized. It can be quite painful. My doctor’s remedy? Hold my finger and thumb over my nose and pinch. Close my mouth so that I cannot breathe. Then from inside my head, try to force pressure towards my left ear to unblock the Eustachian tube. He went to medical school for this? To tell me that all I need to do to fix my ear is to pretend that I am Dizzy Gillespie playing a trumpet? You should have seen us in the office…as he demonstrated the procedure; the two of us sitting there trying to blow our brains out by forcing air from our lungs while closing off any means of its escape. Thing is, it actually worked.

 

** He also prescribed a killer decongestant. Both he and the pharmacist warned me not to take it “before bedtime” because it contained enormous amounts of Sudafed. I took it at five o’clock, hardly close to bedtime. And yet, last night I found myself awake, eyes wide open at 1:30AM, 2AM, 3AM, 3:30AM. At what time does one throw in the towel, and decide that thrashing about and racing thoughts will never get one to sleep again?I actually considered getting up at 3:30 to make the coffee and begin my morning. And it seems, just at that moment, I fell asleep, but not before those racing thoughts took me from the sublime to the ridiculous.

 

**I thought a lot about Bob Dylan and was just a little jealous of Alicia Keys whose name is now immortalized in a Dylan song. Dylan’s new cd “Modern Times” is a tour de force, a coup d’etat, an opus, a delight, a dream. I pre-ordered it through bobdylan.com and my reward was that I received a free gift; a cd recording of one of Dylan’s themed radio programs. The topic? Baseball. It seems that Dylan loves baseball. Who knew? On his radio show, he called it the greatest game ever played. In a footnote to this month’s Rolling Stone cover story and interview, Dylan responded to the question, “What is your favorite baseball team?” Dylan answered the question with typical profundity, “The problem with baseball teams is all the players get traded, and what your favorite team used to be—a couple of guys you really liked on the team, they’re not on the team now—and you can’t possibly make that team your favorite team.” Dylan eventually disclosed that he liked Detroit and then added, “And I don’t know how anybody can’t like Derek. I’d rather have him on my team than anybody.” I have to admit this is true. But the only reason why someone would single out Derek Jeter and reluctantly admit that you have to like him is because you hate the other Yankees. Whew. For Dylan to be a Yankees’ fan would be as disappointing as his Victoria’s Secret commercials.

 

**I bought a new vacuum cleaner yesterday and it came “assembly required.” Good thing I have a Master’s degree. Instructions for assembly provide a) a list of parts complete with b) diagrams of said parts and c) corresponding arrows and lines linking the name of the part to the drawing of the part. Trouble is that when one begins to read the directions for assembling the parts, the names of the parts in the directions DO NOT correspond to the names of the parts in the list. So, one must not only be an engineer but one must also translate the names of the parts. The “Tool CaddyHolder”in the directions is the “Carrying Handle/Upper Cord Wrap” in the parts list; “Dirt Container Release Flap” is “Dirt Window Flap”; “Dirt Cup Lid” is “Dirt Container Lid.” I put it together, plugged it in, uttered a blessing and whrrrrrrrrrr...success!

 

** I wonder if conservative Evangelical Christians are allowed to buy “Dirt Devils.”

 

** When I was in Rhode Island I was transported smack dab in the middle of a Seinfeld episode. The first morning of my arrival I was supposed to pick up my rental car somewhere between 8:00 and 10:00. I was running late so I called my nephew to arrange a later time for my ride. I also called the rental agency to tell them I would be late and I was told, “We don’t have a car for you.” The rental agent told me that the car they expected to give to me had not been returned. I was offered a mini-van “at no extra cost.”  Great. Well, I had no choice so decided to take it. On the ride to Providence, my nephew and I launched into the classic Seinfeld car rental episode:

 

Agent: I'm sorry, we have no mid-size available at the moment.

Jerry: I don't understand, I made a reservation, do you have my reservation?

Agent: Yes, we do, unfortunately we ran out of cars.

Jerry: But the reservation keeps the car here. That's why you have the
reservation.

Agent: I know why we have reservations.

Jerry: I don't think you do. If you did, I'd have a car. See, you know how to
take the reservation, you just don't know how to *hold* the reservation and
that's really the most important part of the reservation, theholding. Anybody
can just take them.

 

When we arrived at the rental agency, someone had just returned a Ford Taurus GL station wagon…so I took that. Everyone who saw it commented on how long it was and wasn’t it hard to drive? No, not really. The front end was the same size as any other mid-size car and so, unless I was in reverse, the rear-end of the car was not really my problem.

 

** P.S.T.M.P.B.E. (Post Script To My Previous Blog Entry) I don't know how many of you know this, but "Exorcist" is one of the four official Minor Orders of the Church along with Porter, Reader and Acolyte. Minor Orders of the Church do not require ordination, so technically a woman can serve in these capacities. Hmmm... wouldn't that be cool. Doire, Master of Divinity,Exorcist. Are there Exorcist Schools? Is there one near me? Or is one apprenticed? What is the application process like? What kinds of questions would they ask on the EAT (Exorcist Aptitude Test)? I wonder if one would have to demonstrate tolerance for pea soup projectile regurgitation dribbling down one's shirt, or if one would have to watch the Movie and write a paper. The official Rite of Exorcism has been amended several times in the past few centuries. I can just imagine the International Association of Exorcists conducting their annual meeting at a Holiday Inn and discussing the success of this prayer or that prayer. Or, "I have found that Yankee Candles are more effective than Aromatherapy Candles." How ironic that in the article cited in my previous blog entry, the Vatican's Main-Man Exorcist denounced the Harry Potter series of books because he judged them as casting a favorable light on, uhhh..."magic."

 

** The new semester has begun and is well under way (with a brief interruption by tropical storm Ernesto, the Southern equivalent of a “snow day”). I love the beginning of a new semester. Even though I never really took a break from teaching this summer there’s something about a new full semester that is different. Students are back in Charleston en masse, there’s a lot of energy, everyone has made resolutions to read assignments, be on top of things, commit to schoolwork.

 

I love the classroom. There’s nothing like it. No two days are alike. Every class is an opportunity; an hour filled with promise and the unexpected. I love my students; their energy and curiosity; their sense of humor and their youth. I love the relationship we establish; the openness and the freedom of exchange; the safety and ease of discussion that sometimes results in surprising disclosures. I never tire of it.

 

I am my best self in the classroom, my truest self.

I teach because I breathe.

The books have been purchased, the syllabi distributed, the Kazoos handed out…

Let the games begin.