no limits.

“When f(x) = 2x, use the value….”

“Ask the ‘No Limit Solider!” he flashed his dashing smile, while taking a break from playing tetris on his T2 scientific calculator he borrowed from his teammate.

Ms. Nettles, like always, stopped her lesson, to engage in his attention-seeking explosions. “Well….maybe I should…” She slowly turned her heavy-set statue, and shifted over to the file cabinet where the tiny, green toy soldier had been placed on Friday afternoon before the pep rally. As she moved across the classroom, a waft of 1977 (maybe 1978) flowery perfume spread through the air. I will never forget that raunchy smell. I turned my head from my book and smiled at my boyfriend. How does he do it? His smile back to me begged me for my participation. I knew the look, and accepted the bet. We always competed…who could push it the furthest, and we both secretly got off to playing the game. Game on.

“Now, I believe he says that when f(x) = 2x….,” she slowly began…

“---wait! do you hear that?!” I interrupted, stepping up to the plate. “No Limit Soldier is actually is saying that we should have pizza delivered to our classroom.”  It was a bold move, but one, if politicized correctly, would send my boyfriend into defeat. I got this. I got this. Despite the appropriate laughs from the class, as well as Ms. Nettles, from a typical jokester outburst, I began stating my case in the most serious and convincing tone in my arsenal. In the midst of comparing why ordering pizza could relate to our math lesson, I turned to my boyfriend (mostly for approval, but also to mock him, knowing that I was going to pull this off) who was shaking his head and smiling. He had put the ‘No Limit Soldier’ toy (conjured up from a rap song, and a lesson on numerical approaches to limits- Nettles, of course, only knew the connection between the toy’s name and the latter of the two derivatives…..pun intended) on the file cabinet, staring right in my direction a week before. He said it was to remind me that he controls the classroom. If I weren’t the Sagittarius that I am, we would have ended right then and there. However, I adored our playful nature, and we pushed one another constantly while seeking laughs.

* I drove up to my old high school the morning before my flight back to New York. It was the first time I set foot in the place since graduation…8 years ago. Confidently walking into the teachers lounge with a good friend, I pulled up a chair and began the tedious process of explaining what I had been doing, where I had been, praising the structural changes of the high school, noting how young the students look nowadays…blah, blah, blah. I turned to my left where she had just sat down. “So, do you remember me?” I asked, knowing there was a very slim chance Ms. Nettles, well into her 60s would recognize me.

“Now,” she began in her creaky, high-pitched voice, “how on earth could I forget the only student in my 35 years of teaching that convinced me to order pizza and have it delivered to our classroom? Tell me. What are you doing with your life?”

“I actually was inspired by you, and ended up becoming a mathematician.”

I texted him before I got on my plane back to New York to let him know I got her last. Before I could even sit back and enjoy my victory, he challenged my play. With the same politicized attitude, he promptly informed me that flat out lying to the woman doesn’t count. Until next time- Here’s to “The Game.”

jack.

dear little one, exactly one year ago on this day i got a call about you. on the other side of the line- tears, roars of pain. you had been inside your mommy for 8 months. today, you were gone. no sense reminiscing about the loss and struggle. you wouldn't want that. i know. so, instead, i just wanted to say i love you. i love you because you brought us all such joy in a short amount of time. i love you, because you knew my voice, and would kick and dance in the womb whenever i sang the indiana jones theme song. obviously, you have the best taste. i love you for watching over your family, especially your little sister. your handprints are so tiny, scrap booked and cherished. tiny baby nike shoes still line the closet. i won't lie, it's been very difficult for your mom and dad. nobody has any words of comfort even though we wish we could spit out every eloquent sentence that ever existed in order to make them happy. but, the truth is, they just miss you and wish you were here to celebrate your first birthday. are you celebrating? are you dancing? laughing? i hope so. today, i promise you i will dance- i will dance in your honor. i love you sweet boy.



almost like a pre-game tradition. zoning out, blackberry in hand, focused on what needs to get accomplished. no emotion. eyes on road. driving 85 mph, the cop just sheepishly asks her to slow down after he sees the look of sisterly duty in her authoritative eyes. she called her boss, got out of work, and then called my mother, who didn't pick up. she was...busy.

i remember the doctors and the look on my mother's face when they told her. i felt like i had done something wrong. but, i just needed to go- it's hard to explain. i know it's cliche to say "it's complicated," but it is, and i am sorry for that. but i do promise you one day, you will understand what i mean.

she ran her shuttle back and forth from my uncle's house to the hospital to the airport. constant motion, constant to-do list. she couldn't stop, because she didn't want to feel the immense pain that was on the horizon, growing closer. calls to friends and family- she made them. booking hotels- she made the reservations. all of a sudden the tasks were complete, and she could no longer run.

i remember when my aunt came into the hospital room to see my mother. my body was still inside my mommy, but i was watching from another place. my mother looked like a child, scared, needing comfort. what comfort could you give? she looked at the dark circles under her eyes and her sweet face that had been glowing for 8 months that now seemed colorless. she sat down and slipped her hand into hers. every possible arrangement of words that came to her mind seemed disgustingly stupid. she wanted to be there for my mother for once. my mother has always looked after my aunt- endless advice, constant support and love. time froze as they stared at one another. the hand grip got tighter and tighter. "i don't know," with a head shake, tears forming in her eyes. "it will be okay," comforted my mother.

cake and such.

why is it that it always comes to you two? i am angry. why? shouldn't time account for anything? you preached one way all our lives...preached- maybe that's where you went wrong. nobody talks about it to you. why would we? sitting at a table in an italian restaurant- you are 80% of the conversation, yet nobody tells you this. there is no point in looking into your eyes and twisting them around until the blood covers up a life you think you are living...like you did to us. remember that? i promise you we won't do that to you. we know better. we are better. was it for the money? was it for conformity? settling....did that cross your mind? help me understand how my relationships end, and i cannot even start to feel my own loss, because you are in the forefront of my mind. am i blaming you like a child would? yes. an adult should know better, right? an adult should realize that people change, everything is temporary, "things happen for a reason"....now, i throw up. i throw up cliches of what the therapists say. give me a fucking break- you lied. you both lied. constantly. and now, because it's your birthday, i will swallow all of my feelings and spit out streamers and cake. for christmas, i will make sure you are happier than me, because nothing says "im healed" like a new sweater. stop. seriously, stop pretending. for once, stop citing AA slogans and quotes from jesus christ. jesus christ. just be real. who the fuck are you two? i would like to know. sincerely.


and so...
when she looked at her that one night, a flood arose. black water. grey. red dust. this time, it was much clearer- easily deciphered than past experiences. no. it is done now. she sat smiling, though, looking straight into her eyes, knowing that in the past it took years to pick up on, and now, in an instant, she could see it. i felt it. the guilt, followed by anger and sadness. she knew immediately that such a cruelty could not be justified...and so...she smiled. she smiled for her ability to recognize and love herself for once. but, i love you. i didn't think i did, but i honestly do. i love you purely. her road is just leading in a different direction, and that is okay. can we try and go in peace though? i promise you i will try. you are so beautiful.
and when...


remember when you yelled at me about the wedding cake? i get that it was symbolic of your loss, but you were hurting me. you didn't care to see how scared and hurt i was. i drove away that night so afraid of the monster you turned into. lifetime movies flashed before my eyes. how am i actually witnessing this? did you ever wonder where i drove to? did you care? did you ever ask? no. you didn't. he was waiting for me outside when i returned. i went to our church. did you know that?

remember when you yelled at me on the drive back from college one year? you said, "he's not good enough for you!" i wasn't really talking about him. at all. in fact, i just wanted to listen to the radio to be honest. you kept on him as if you knew more than i did. do you know what i was thinking? why are you doing this to her? why are you mad at yourself? what have you done?

and so...

magic gardens are like oatmeal on a cold day.

so, i was roaming the south street neighborhood of philadelphia with some friends this past weekend, and i thankfully stumbled upon one of the best displays of community beautification i have ever laid eyes on. i have always been obsessed with cities, landscapes, architecture, and the integration of art within communities. so in my own little world, i was standing there as indiana jones would upon his latest find. no, i am not being dramatic. i'm just weird. it's the simple things. philadelphia's magic gardens is a folk art environment and gallery space that shows the brilliant mosaic work of mr. isaiah zagar. i encourage you to read more about his devotion to the south street neighborhood on the website. essentially, zagar began revitalizing the area in the 60's, with the help of his wife, by creating an indoor gallery and gigantic outdoor labyrinthine from objects (bottles, bicycles, umbrellas, mirrors, mom's pearls, grandpa's dentures- not really...well, maybe, i don't know...but you get the point) and recycled material found on the streets of the neighborhood. there are tributes, and tours, and tunnels, and grottos galore! unfortunately, i only got to spend a few moments staring through the gates, eyes wide open, and jaw dropped....m-e-s-m-e-r-i-z-e-d. like all enticing treats, this artwork left me wanting more. i cannot wait to go back and explore!

knowledge.

i wanted to try and illustrate what i perceive to be the natural flow of self-awareness with this photo using placement of words, and colors. the tree itself is absolutely breathtaking, and stands alone in an open savannah at the Murchison Falls National Park. how do you view the process of inner growth? do you think of certain images when reflecting on your journey of self?