10/23/2020

 okay, it's been almost a week i believe. i think my last posting was on the 19th, which was about 4 days ago... but really, it feels like it's been a week. again, work sort of interrupts my life. i had to do a few progress reports and stuff like that. i'm also transitioning from teaching exclusively outdoors to teaching in my classroom. this meant moving a few shelves so that the windows could all be opened, to increase ventilation through the room. i know it may not seem to help, but it's recommended that we open the rooms up as fully as possible... so...

i decided to subscribe to adam mizner's online taijiquan course. he releases one video a week for his students to train on. so far, i got a video about loosening up exercises. they're actually really good. i may have mentioned that my right shoulder has been "clicking" a lot due to tension in the joint. well, i did some of those loosening up exercises, including one called "knocking on the door," and afterwards, when i did an arm circle, i noticed that there was no clicking! mizner feels that in order to properly do taijiquan, you have to "remake" the body. this remaking involves what's called fang song, or complete relaxation of the body. it means finding tension in the body and relaxing or dropping it. i think this first stage (the loosening up exercises) seeks to release tension around and within important joints in the body...

not much else to report, honestly...

i had a dream about cutting off my own thumbs with a pruning shear. during the dream, i remember repeating "compassion means with passion" over and over and over again. once i viewed the bloody stump where my thumb had been, i felt a kind of sadness and remorse and regret at the stupidity of that irreversible cut. that's the thing about cuts, they're irreversible. you can't fix things back the way that they were- only if you're a salamander, or in stupid marvel movies... when i woke up, i was releaved to find i still had both of my thumbs... but the sense of that irreversibility remained with me. there are a lot of things in life where you can't go back. in fact, maybe every moment in the present involves an irretrievable loss of the past- a very real pruning of things. we have a narratival recollection of time, so this pretends a kind of connection, a blurring, or an afterimage effect of the past... but really, we can't go back. we can never go back...

i always imagined, when young, that people were doorways or windows to other realities. and that each person contained a universe within themselves... as i got older, i started to feel that maybe a lot of those so called doorways were actually prison gates... in fact, maybe a majority of them were... and the people inside were, like me, just trying to get out... also, there were people that HAD universes within them, but more often than not, they were sinister and dark universes... the sense of finding people that had a kind of light and carefree world within them... well, it's been rare indeed. there is always a kind of darkness or need or compulsion that gravitates within most people... it makes of them, well, a sort of dark gravity well... that their light tries desperately to escape...

i despair of writing a narrative. a convincing narrative. a part of me no longer believes in narratival reality. maybe the point of my life is that disbelieving. maybe liberation is found only through a complete destruction of the narratival experience. maybe narratival reality is the one delusion/illusion that maintains this social fabric... we all love stories, we all love to tell stories...

in writing class, we try to liberate ourselves from "thought", and write more or less spontaneously. i think that's the whole point of the random prompts and the time pressures (like we have 1 minute to write about something random, like "teeth" or "she"). i sometimes despair, because i think that my controlling narratival brain is so hungry for dominance and so effective at taking over that it clouds over any chance for open sky and possibility to infect me. it steals the mike, in essence... and the result is dead words from a dead mouth. i don't know if it's possible to ever write something "real." "living." because by the time an inkling starts to break through, it's suddenly taken over by that other side of me...

i have in fact had this vision of myself... of the past me... that maybe once had a shot at capturing the truth... but that was so drowned or buried, so long ago, that probably nothing remains... i think that's why it's so hard for me to feel... it's so hard for me to even sympathize, or empathize, with much of anything any more. i am a kind and respectful person by habit, by rote habit... it's not that i'm genuinely caring, it's that i've been trained and molded to be this way, and i simply don't know how to be otherwise. it's not in my shape to be anything else... and meanwhile, that little voice, it is so indistinct as to be imaginary. a hint of something, an echo of something, drowned in this overwhelming and hungry darkness... is there any hope? is there any possibility that i could ever release myself?

10/18/2020

 it's been only a couple of days. usually on the weekends, i kind of blitz through my routines... i'm about at the point where i want to make some shifts to what i do. first of all, i (kind of scared) am set to pay about $500 to become a student of adam mizner. it's not a big deal (at least besides the price), because everything is online right now. i suppose he has videos for each and every week of the year. i guess i wanted to do this because i've seen his stuff. aside from being able to do some amazing stuff (things that i've wanted to learn forever, like fajin), he has a clarity in his way of explaining things... so, if i start to prioritize the taijiquan stuff, then some things may have to go. or at least be downplayed...

i'm also learning a lot from the writing workshop that i'm doing with jason fong. a couple of things... he kind of focuses things by setting a timer, or in some way limiting the work. a deadline creates pressure, and i suppose that that's key for writing. it is its very interminability that makes it so potentially flimsy and insubstantial. it's like water, i suppose. if you don't create pressure, then water (and writing) loses its force and shape... i also like that jason tries to create random prompts. the ability to simply jump into writing, to "not think" is key. i don't know how i would necessary emulate that sort of thing into my practice... unless maybe i found a sort of random word generator or something. it would have to be completely random to work. nothing thematic, or tied to what i'm doing... of course, these would just be exercises, to "free" the writing mind. when it comes to the actual work, that is, the planned and constructed stories, then that would be another matter entirely. i think i'd still keep the time deadlines, and the mentality of "not thinking" too much...

i guess another advantage of a workshop is that you can read each other's work. and you can give feedback to each other's work...

so, in those two senses, my routines will change. i was also thinking of upping things for my drawings. i am thinking of incorporating more color. maybe even learning how to paint.

*****

i am cruel to the family dog. that's a fact. i have wondered at this. i have wondered why i have this cruel seed within me. i think, at times, that it is akin to the notions of sexuality. not that i'm cruel in that sense, but both derive from this notion of getting something to "feel," and perhaps feel dependent upon me. they also both derive from notions of power, and of the fundamental unfairness of the world.

maybe i'm cruel to the dog because i feel that there is no space for the kind of coddling that, say, my wife offers to him. maybe i somehow feel that it's unfair, and that, in the interests of restoring a sort of fairness to the world, i "break the dog down."

i blame a lot of things on my brother. i claim that he ridiculed me a lot when i was young. he made me feel that my feelings were trash, that my opinions were not even worth responding to... he made me think that there was a different law or reality for the "cool people," and another for the shit people like me. basically that law was that the "cool people" get special treatment, in the sense that their feelings count and their thoughts are worthy of listening to... whereas the shit people, well, they essentially have no feelings that are worth hearing out. nor are their ideas legitimate...

it's so ironic, because having experienced that sort of thing, not just from my brother, but from the world at large, you would think that i would be passionate about restoring the balance, of justifying and empowering the disenfranchised voices of the world... but instead, it seems i repeat the very things that i hated...

why?

why is it that i feel it necessary to teach my dog that the world is cruel, and that no one gets what they want? ... i think in addition to this is the feeling that my dog hates me, or at the very least, is indifferent to me... how dare he? when i hold sway, when i am powerful (... like my brother)? it's really stupid. but when i see my dog treated extra nice by my wife or my son... well, something about this irks me. like, it's not fair. he should appreciate that he comes from shit. just like me...

*****

i'm not sure what else to say right now. i am feeling a bit tired. it seems that i've no choice really, but to trust in kakashi...

Well, thank you!

*****

10/16/2020

 yes, work started again. it's been a week since i last had the time to write in this blog...

things have passed in a blur. aside from the chaos of starting instruction again, i had to contend with issues relating to an iep. i definitely won't get into the particulars, but i will say that this is an entirely new situation with special education, due to the covid pandemic, and the setting of distance learning. i think generally that distance learning is a completely different animal, and that not all (in fact, i would say most) kids can't really access it. when you superimpose distance learning over such issues as inclusion and the least restrictive environment, well, you get a lot of chaos. i often think that removing the cloudy lens of distance learning can clarify issues, and this is what i find i have had to do in a lot of cases... distance learning IS unnatural, and kids should not be expected to be successful at it, immediately, or ever. to equate "inclusion" in the distance setting with face to face inclusion... well, you are comparing apples and skateboards... completely different.

*****

i started a writing workshop with jason fong. it was interesting, fun, but a little intimidating. the other members of the class are all either (employed) writers or actors. i come from no dramatic background. my perspective is limited to my work, and my solitary, solipsistic efforts at writing. i also write primarily in a short story format, with a lot expressed via exposition (i.e., descriptions of setting, the internal monologues of the characters). i'm not used to straight dialogue. in fact, i would say that dialogue is definitely not my forte. i discovered that a lot of my interactions are stereotypical, cringe-worthy, and wonky, both the back-and-forth of them, and the set up (the invented scenarios)... nevertheless, i enjoyed it, and found the quick shifting of the tasks refreshing. my main takeaway from the workshop was that i have to stop thinking, and just go with things...

*****

i've been practicing more zhan zhuang (standing pile) lately; it's been incorporated in my "routine." at the same time, i've been watching more of adam mizner's videos. this latest video that i saw was on what's called a song gong practice. this practice is primarily about softening the body, particularly the shoulders. i have noticed more and more the issues with my right shoulder. at certain times, even slight movements of my shoulder will result in a kind of clicking sensation, as the different muscles of my rotator cuff engage jerkily to allow my gleneral joint to turn. it could be my imagination, but after i did 30 repetitions of the song gong practice, it seemed as though there was less tension in that shoulder. i don't know if i'm doing it exactly right, but i'll continue doing it to get a bit softer and looser...

*****

i get very tired by the end of the week. don't get me wrong. i like engaging with my students. i do see some gradual progress with them, and what's even better is that they do too. when students sense that they're improving, they get a little excited... it seems, for a time, that the world opens up for them. they can do anything that they set their mind to... the last couple of students i worked with today got their first long division (4 digit dividend, 1 digit divisor) problem right...

but i find that when i get home, i almost collapse. i start to watch or read something, but i feel i have to lie flat on the floor and close my eyes and disappear... i want to just forget the world for a time.

*****

i had an insight about relationships, particularly sexuality... i realize that, for me, perhaps there is this inextricable tie to power dynamics. no, it's not so overt as a bdsm sort of thing (i think of "master and servant" by depeche mode). i don't deal in pain, either in receiving it or giving it... but there is a sense of what i keep referring to as "overwhelming," that is, dealing in pleasure to the point of- well, almost control... or even beyond. i think i referred to it as a redox reaction or something... this was imprecise, because a redox reaction has a sense of equilibrium, but in this, there is almost a sense of "reducing" someone, via pleasure, to a thing without thought or cognition, merely a sensate "thing." something fully released... i find that, for me, that has always been the goal: to be "felt" to the point of overwhelming. i don't derive so much pleasure for myself personally; in fact, that's precisely NOT my goal. in a way, if i ever get "overwhelmed" myself, then it works counter to my objective, because that would make me the powerless partner in this relationship...

i know, it sounds twisted, and it is twisted. i think it has something to do with this imprint during my youth, like when i was 4 or 5 years old. again, i was surrounded by these nubile teenage girls who always treated me like some sort of "mascot," but for whom i would never be taken seriously, i.e., as a romantic partner. i think that feeling has always stayed with me, the feeling of being this "innocuous" presence that no one really "loved" (in the sense of wanting me, physically). and, now that i'm older, i think this has morphed or mutated my notions of intimacy to- well, almost a revenge plot against my partners. like it's almost like i want to "prove" to my partners that i do have puissance, that i'm not just some cute innocuous sexless mascot...

it tends to work out, because i make people happy in the process. in fact, maybe, ironically, it just repeats the process... this notion of servility, only stepped up a level. the idea of intimacy as an "equal" negotiation of wants, that somehow eludes me... i mean, i personally don't want anything from my partner... except the opportunity to make them happy. i simply want to be what they want...

stupid, i know. i'm old, anyway, and maybe shouldn't be thinking so much about these things. these are my waning, downhill years, and perhaps i should be considering the end, and not so much about- well, these extraneous matters... but somehow, these images and memories return to me, and upon reflection, i just see patterns... infinite, repeating patterns... like the reinforced repeating walls of some crystalline prison... in my youth, i imagined this angel that could save me, redeem me, value me, and free me from this prison... but nowadays, i feel that angel never existed, and that there is no other world aside from these prisons, that i keep recreating, not knowing anything better or different.

10/9/2020

 it being fall break, and not having much else to do, i have been driving through my routines more quickly. don't get me wrong. there have been things to take care of. for example, i had to really help my son with his algebra 2 assignment (overdue). and in the process, i had to recall a lot of my math stuff. it was actually nice to work with my son on math. it felt like we were working together on something, which is not something that happens very often. i tend to give my son his space. i'm not sure why. well, maybe i do know why. i think, at this age, that kids want their own space. i mean, i can literally feel it when they start to switch off, when i get too passionate about something, or when i start droning on and on about my own experiences... kids their age, they really are almost physically averse to that kind of droning lecture. and, to be honest, who wouldn't be? so i try not to say too much. i try to keep my talks with my kids brief and to the point.

*****

i have been meditating and doing zhan zhuang more regularly. i've noticed a few things. for meditation, one of the biggest obstacles is this feeling of losing focus. my eyes literally blur and probably go cross eyed or something, and my thoughts just get foggy. and next thing you know, i have to snap to. it's sort of like when you are struggling to stay awake in a really boring class, i suppose, only, it's a bit different. i can literally feel my thoughts jumbling up, and sort of accumulating like a cloud... and that's when it all gets vague. the only way i piece it apart is by a continual process of awakening... by noticing this thought or that song or that image or whatever. it's funny. i think most of consciousness is composed of these associations, rational or not. i remember charlotte joko beck talking about this... how "thoughts" are basically just a mental phenomenon often linked to either other mental phenomena or to physical sensations. even traumatic events are just links between a memory (in whatever form it takes) and the physical sensations that were burned into you. so a lot of meditation for me, at this point, is just noticing these. i don't actively seek to "tease apart" these knots. i just notice them. and notice them. and notice them. and eventually, i think from the constant noticing, the associations start to wear down. or maybe they just become really apparent. and through being seen, paradoxically, they disappear.

in zhan zhuang, i've also been noticing things. you can start to feel tension. it is as a pain. but it is also a shape. you can almost "see" the shape of the tensions in your body. for me, i have a ball of tension in my right shoulder, and in my right calf. i mean, there are definitely other places that i notice and release, but those two places are particularly stubborn and resistant to change. it's funny, but i always remember holding tension in my right calf. i used to think it was cool (this was probably in elementary school or something) when i would lean the ball of my foot against the bottom of the chair in front of me, and then "vibrate" my leg... i could do this because there was always this residual tension in my calf muscles... but only on that side. as for my shoulder... well, i have been noticing it clicking a lot. when i do exercises that involve my shoulder, there is a kind of grinding of the humeral head (accompanied by clicks). for that matter, i have something similar going on with my right hip as well. i guess i'm kind of falling apart in that way. but it's strange. at first, when doing zhan zhuang, i couldn't do anything about some of that tension, especially the tension in my calf. so by the end of a session, it got so that i almost had a hard time walking. and as, in my routine, i would play the piano after doing zhan zhuang, i literally could not use the damper pedal very well, because my foot would keep vibrating from the residual tension... but today, i had no problem. i just kept feeling the shape of the tension and telling it to open, relax, and sink...

*****

on sunday (in two days), i will be participating in some sort of writer's workshop. i'm actually very nervous about it. for one thing, most of the other people in the workshop are actual actors. i definitely am not one. i also feel like i don't have stories in my head right now. and conversations (which i feel this may emphasize, because it seems as though a lot of the writing will be dialogue based) constantly elude me. i know that my characters don't speak "realistically." i tend to be a conceptual writer, even in dialogue, unfortunately... so there's a lot of self-doubt. but, whatever...

10/8/2020

 i am home. it's thursday. things have been pretty uneventful. the only real errand i ran today was going to wahiawa to do some grocery shopping, and taking my kids out for ice cream (black sheep). at the moment, i'm in the bedroom typing and listening to my neighbor talk to his son. the son (who is probably in his 20s or 30s) can't say a single sentence without using the word "fucking." he belongs to the demographic of white non-college educated who is a hardcore trump supporter. nuff said on that.

i have been giving some thoughts on writing. i think i think about writing when i'm drawing. i spend a fair amount of time drawing now, and at times, i feel like i'm drawing some pretty intricate things (as far as i'm concerned, i still think faces are some of the most difficult things to draw convincingly). i sometimes have to recorrect proportions in the middle of the drawing, because they clearly are wrong- either i can tell visually, because things look "off," or i realize i have to because- well, it's like drawing a circle where the ends don't meet. in any case, what i'm trying to say is that writing is an involved, often times difficult thing for me... but i don't seem to complain or feel tired or despair. i just keep going with it. i always keep going until i feel like i'm done with the drawing.

this is not the case with writing. i think i've put off direct writing in a lot of senses. by direct writing, i mean writing precisely what i intend to have published. instead, i've written a lot "indirectly." most recently, i've taken the advice of judy blume and tried to write an entire notebook trying to work out my thoughts on a story... all before actually writing it. i think it was somewhat productive. it allowed me to think through a lot of possibilities... but i guess that's just it. they're all just possibilities. i haven't committed to writing "the" story. and, of course, it means i haven't committed to finishing the story either.

i am also reflecting on this because i've listened to adam mizner, this taijiquan instructor. and he has spoken about the importance of setting "skillful" goals. as he puts it, it is useless and inappropriate to set goals like: "i will be able to do fa jin (the skill of emitting or projecting jin- a sought-after skill in taijiquan) in one year." this is unskillful, particularly if you're just starting out, and have no idea of what's involved in mastering fajin. it's like saying you're going to get somewhere when you've never been there before... what mizner did recommend was setting goals that emphasize the causes, and not focus on the effects. so, saying that you would practice post standing for one month is a far better goal, because it emphasizes the practices that lead to development...

in that sense, what i'm doing IS beneficial, because it is a step in the right direction, and will likely eventually get me where i'm going.

i guess what i am pondering over is the age old debate about different pathways to enlightenment (or any goal, really): the gradual path vs the sudden, or unrelenting, path. as an old man, i think i tendto opt for the gradual path anyway. but i realize the drawbacks of it, the feeling that i'm never pushing through to break the barriers to the end.

10/6/2020

 yesterday was monday, the first official day of my fall break. i spent the morning over at leilehua high school, where i was one of the teachers/presenters for a fall steam project for interested 5th graders in the complex. i made a short video explaining levers, and how some of the principles behind levers could help students in making their mobiles. it was fun. i always feel awkward in front of cameras, and the set up that they had, with a huge screen with all the participants, and a "stage" where you stand and speak to everyone... well, it was kind of daunting. i always don't know where to look when i'm in a virtual meeting like that. i prefer to look at the face that i'm addressing, but most of the time, that's nowhere near where the camera that's projecting me is. so when i looked at myself, i was always speaking off to the side or something... oh well.

yesterday was also lynn's first day back to work (interesting how that always works out). she had a really long, really hard day. basically she needed to dispose of a ton (maybe literally!) of expired food stuffs. that basically meant filling a car with boxes and boxes of heavy food stuffs, transporting it to the dumpster, and heaving it in. over and over and over again. i offered to help, but she said that some of her friends had come to assist her today. thank god for friends!

i've been able to chug along through my routines, though maybe that's being a bit selfish. i should be addressing my son's issues. he still has an outstanding project for algebra ii, and we were kind of stuck on how to translate the graphs of these lines so that the overall shape (a snowflake) is centered on his birthday, 6, 29. i kind of remember the stuff, but not really, so i couldn't offer direct assistance. i think if i research the topic a bit, i could figure it out. anyway, maybe i should be doing stuff like that. or going over some of the classes he'd had a difficult time with. and maybe i will. but it seems as though i have this break before me, and i'm already still riddled with work obligations and such (today, after taking the kids to a doctor's appointment, i have to go into campus to test a student for his iep)... oh well. i need to start reprioritizing things so i address my son. i do love him, a lot, but it is sometimes difficult to address the real complex problems surrounding him. it's always tempting to take the easy path out.

right now, i hear the croaking voice of this bird. strangely enough, it can also produce the sweetest songs. i believe it is some kind of nightingale or songbird or something, imported from elsewhere. it has an orange breast, and it has this slow-moving tail that it moves ponderously up and down. anyway, it has taken up residence in or near our yard. i think the big draw is probably my worm bin. one day, i had tipped the worm bin on its side to allow some of the excess liquid to drain out, and next thing i know, this bird had hopped in to the bin to feast on the available worms. since then, i have always been watching out for that bird when i tip the bin. it is actually pretty bold, and won't immediately flee in my vicinity. anyway, one day i tipped the bin, and pretended to weed or something near a corner. i noticed the bird trying to creep around a pillar to get at the worms. it was pretty comical when i caught it in its almost-act... anyway, i kind of like that bird (and its probable partner, whom i never see). the birds i really dislike are the bulbuls, because they are smart and sneaky, and feast on a lot of my red crops.

*****

i've been reading a few short stories again. the last couple that i read from amy hempell (sp?) were better. but i still find the characters so- obtuse? so strange. so- off. that again, it's hard for me to sympathize or feel any investment in them. i think the need to create a "splash" with these short stories, and present something so off-beat and off-kilter that it forces attention... well, it also tends to make things far more abstract and inaccessible. maybe i lack the kind of empathy that can immediately "get it"; like, tell what the issues are, tell what the signs are... i don't. and maybe that is what makes me such a clod with, well, women, and most people in general.

(although, i think, i have a strength in empathizing with children.)

i've also read further into tobias wolff's book, "old school," which i thought was going to be a collection of short stories, but is actually a novel in its own right, divided up into themed chapters. it's a great book. i understand why david sedaris liked him. i also found it kind of telling and endearing that wolff actually remembered sedaris coming to his book signings, even before sedaris was famous. it speaks of the kind of attention he pays to people...

in the latest part of the book, the protagonist enters a writing competition to earn the right to speak to a visiting author. i suppose it's a periodic thing at this school, and there have already been visits from robert frost and ayn rand. now ernest hemingway is coming, and he happens to be the protagonist's favorite author (and, he claims, the best writer of his time). the day before entries were due, he still hadn't started writing his entry. he chances upon a piece of writing by a girl in a literary magazine from one of the nearby girls' schools, and he is immediately siezed upon by the writing. he actually claims it as his own story, he identifies with it so much. he just changes the names and some finer points of the situations, and turns it in. it's funny how he doesn't seem to consider it plagiarism initially... he just feels like the girl, with her frank writing, is capturing HIS story, only in her particular context. he wins; ernest hemingway loves the story; but of course, he gets found out...

in any case, one thing that struck me... and maybe it's because of ernest hemingway, whom i have read one book of ("old man and the sea")... but this notion of writing the truth, in bold but honest lines, has always been something i've wanted to do. i guess i've run into one of two problems: either the truth has been so singularly boring for me (no major events, no remembered events), or it has just been too difficult to write plainly and simply about what is the pain in my heart. maybe, with regards to the latter, it has been buried so deeply beneath scar tissue, that it is hard to feel it any more...

*****

well, i've got errands to run. have to take the kids over to the doctor's soon...

10/3/2020

 it's another saturday.

on thursday came the news that trump and melania both tested positive for covid-19. before i could really stop myself, i felt a great sense of elation. i mean, come on, this was payback. the guy couldn't care less about the more than 200,000 people who had died under his watch. he and his administration had been flaunting a disregard for the basic measures that had been put in place to prevent the spread of the virus. so why shouldn't he catch it, and suffer for it? maybe it would teach him a little empathy.

but i guess i caught myself wishing ill on the president... and i feel a more measured reaction now.

*****

my son aiden failed a class this quarter. i had a long talk with him last night. my initial reaction was disbelief. i told him that it actually takes a lot of work to fail a class. i told him that you almost have to actively try to fail. (maybe not true, but hey).

i have felt a lot of guilt with regards to my son. i may have expressed my sentiments in earlier posts about this issue. long ago, when there were first signs of a problem with aiden, i recall reacting with a lot of rage. there was so much, in fact, that our (then) asshole neighbors put in a call to the school to file a report on me. but when the counselor talked to me, i kind of had a wake up call. maybe it wasn't productive for me to harp on my son so much. i learned about this thing called ialac (i am lovable and capable), basically this notion that the self-esteem of the child was important. and when i heard about how aiden's ialac was damaged, well, it broke my heart.

i think i bore the scars of that regret long after. i think that, ever since, i have been careful not to push my son too hard. contrast that with my daughter, whom i have pushed very hard. but then again, they are completely different children. my daughter is, despite appearances, very driven. my son, not so much. he has strengths in other areas. for one thing, i feel he is more affable and caring (in some respects) than my daughter. i always tell him that he "has a good heart." i also recently read one of his writing pieces, and i felt that, for all of his minor grammatical errors, he actually has a strong voice, one tinged with irony and friendly sarcasm.

but i guess those strengths do not balance out with some of his deficits. he has this pattern of behavior of basically "floating" and escaping responsibilities. whenever i ask him about how his school is going, he gives some patent answer, and then he returns to his videogaming and chatting with his friends. i have pretty much opted to not respond, or not pursue things, unless he comes to me to ask for help. i feel that it's no longer my place to "helicopter" and monitor him aggressively. maybe that is a fault or failing of mine, and maybe part of this is a kind of resignation (laziness) with regards to his performance. maybe a part of this is a holdover from the notion that i need to protect his esteem. maybe a part of it is this feeling that i cannot impose my own standards and expectations upon him. in any case, that's what i've done...

last night i had a relatively long talk with my son about these issues. i talked about opening his eyes to his life, being cognisant of problems, and addressing them directly. i told him that he needs to work hard, and ask for help when necessary... i told him that running away from your problems only makes them bigger.

... i also wrote a letter to his algebra ii letter. i in no way blamed the teacher, and basically said that we were disappointed in aiden. i did hint that i was not happy that the school had initially rebuffed our efforts to get him a 504 (accommodations) earlier in his high school career. i stated that i believed we should revisit the issue, now that we have had sufficient evidence of his difficulties... i only hope that it's not too late.

i'm sure that they'll come back and say that i haven't been active enough in monitoring and intervening on behalf of aiden as his parent... i don't think i'll have a counter to that, aside from this notion that he should be old enough to take responsibility for his own learning... (but this gets to the vicious cycle, or begs the question... if he did take responsibility for his own learning, then we wouldn't need all of these accommodations...)

*****

when i've done zhan zhuang and sitting meditation lately, i'm able to last 30 minutes without too much strain. i've noticed (or am able to sense/feel) the snarl in my right shoulder that makes it less mobile. it feels like this deep, small tangle. each time i am aware of it, i just think "open and relax," and move on... i also am constantly feeling my low back and hips tighten throughout the process, and have to repeatedly relax and drop the tension... not sure if i'm doing everything right, but at some point, you have to just do it, and correct your mistakes later.