An Update (in technicolor) – A Review

It’s 40 degrees out and my hair is still wet. I woke up late, well. I woke up on time, but then snoozed my alarm for the next fifty minutes without thinking. I purposefully had an extra 30 minutes added in for my morning routine for train troubles and to give me time to work on some projects. I could get to work early, but I couldn’t get there late.

I had missed the train by a fraction of a second. The doors closed right before I could slip my hand in and force them to open. The dozen or so people who got off gave me sympathetic looks as I trudged toward the bench at the center of the open-air station.

We were about four stories up. Just high enough to be over the local buildings, but not high enough to see past the sparse apartment complexes and office buildings that populate Ridgewood, New York. I chatter my teeth as I slip in my ear buds and listen to the same Rap/Big band fusion artist that has been keeping me company for the past week on the train. I sigh as the ticker refreshes, the next Brooklyn bound train? Ten minutes away.

I’m not going to be late. In fact, I’m going to be early. But ten minutes feels like hours in the wind. The Mezzo-Soprano and the thump of the stand-up bass is enough encouragement to get me to move from the bench and lean against the decorative edge of a nearby signboard that might block some of the wind.

The board itself is blank, aside from some graffiti that reads “Are you helping? Are you hurting?” I read the question aloud to myself. I’m alone, shivering in the cold, and I’m thinking, “damn if I know.”

But I catch myself.

I do know. I’m hurting in the cold, in the wind, in the dark. But I’m helping as best I can too.

I’ve learned a lot about myself here. I think I’ve known who I am for a while now. But, the city has taught me a lot more about who I’m not.

I’m not someone who wants what works, I’m someone who wants what’s best. But today, when a kid who just wanted to understand the assignment he was given couldn’t, I realized that quite often, I don’t know what’s best.

It’s not some massive revelation. If you ever asked me if I thought I knew best, I would always say no. But something about the desperation in that kid’s voice told me that maybe I didn’t always believe myself.

Maybe somewhere, somewhere deep in this addled mind there was a part of me that assumed I did think I could always have or at least find an answer. But today? There wasn’t an answer. There was just attempt after attempt after attempt to fix a problem that, in all honesty, wasn’t a problem for either of us to solve. It’s not even a problem his other teachers created, or one that stems from his home or his friends or his family. It’s just one that’s in all of us.

Some things click. Other things don’t.

When I got home, I told myself that I could finally rest. I told myself that I could do my prep work later tonight and that now is just sit there and do whatever you can to do nothing time. But instead? I sat there thinking of that kid, and how his voice sounded when he asked for help. And how dejected he looked when we both realized that I couldn’t.

The kid is sharp, don’t get me wrong. I haven’t met one who isn’t. And I haven’t given up, but the lesson is over.

Other than that, everything has been going well. I’m extremely grateful to the people at work who have taken the time to guide me and make sure I’m able and capable to be independent, but still part of the team.

The place I work is really close knit, and I’m doing what I can to break into that weave. For now, it’s a lot of just introducing myself and forgetting people’s names.

My homelife has been good. I obviously haven’t had much time lately to do anything. My story is on hiatus currently, and my blogs have been hit or miss (from my own viewpoint).

I’m happy here. I truly am. But I’m still living in a whirlwind.

And to finally answer the question, I truly think I am helping, and I don’t think I’m hurting anyone except myself. I know I’m self-destructive, that’s why I try to be careful.

But when you spend your life looking over your shoulder, you sometimes miss the cues to move ahead in front of you.

So for now, let the bass and the piano and the poetry do the talking. You’ll have your turn later, I’ve got a train to catch.