I am actively migraining right now, and I'm going to try to write about it. This may not make much sense. This attack started this morning, and I finally broke down and took a Maxalt about fourth period. It put up the necessary glass-block wall, and I observed the world from an uncomfortable distance the rest of the day, constantly pressing through to try to interact with people, feeling that horrible delay with everything as I tried to make my brain function.
Once 7th period was gone, I left the lights off. It was bliss. Light is my enemy. I left the room dark and prayed for silence and stillness, leaving my stereo off and hoping not to have to talk to anyone too much. I graded papers until it got too dark to see, and then I ventured back out into the world of overhead illumination.
Immediate tension and pain, like a vise tightening inside my skull. I wanted to cry. I think I can feel the nerves inside my eyes leading into my brain. I stumbled out to my car and started the drive home. Every time the horrible headlights of another car struck my windshield, every time I drove underneath a streetlight, I yelled and wished for a dark hole I could pull in on top of myself. Those hellish blue headlights were like someone literally stabbing me through the eye. Halos like some kind of special effects from a video surrounded every light source. They would have been beautiful had there not been that pain and dissociation from everything that accompanied them.
When I got home, the pain had dulled down to a softly pulsing drone. I microwaved the only food that didn't sound like something that would make me throw up, french toast sticks, and had supper. Everything was funny for some reason, funny and far away. There is still a distance I can't seem to cross, a divide that separates me from my pets, my house, everything I know I need to be doing right now.
I'm going to go to bed now. I hope that sleep will reset my fried circuits. Otherwise, tomorrow, Tuesday, always a crap day, is going to be a real monster.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Sunday, March 07, 2010
A Moment of Clarity
It took seeing them bring her out on a stretcher to make me realize the depths of my own absurdity. There she was, frail and weak, and it struck me suddenly how tenaciously I'd clung to all those old grudges that ultimately mean nothing in the light of all the good intentions piled up on the other side of the scale. As they loaded her gently into the back of the Metro amubulance in the darkness of the cold night, I let go of those old frustrations and made my peace with that piece of my past.
I can't count the Sundays we'd been herded into that classroom and told dubious things about Jesus. As my own understanding of the Bible grew, so, too, did my personal frustration level. By the time I was a senior, I had stopped going to Sunday School at all. I would not be disrespectful, and since that was the year my parents told me that I didn't have to go anymore, I took myself out of a situation that caused me an endless form of tearing inside.
Over the years, friction continued to be there. The basic conflict just never went away. I kept it there like a piece of sandpaper, rubbing my thumb across it, constantly feeling that grit abraiding me instead of somehow doing what even that simplest of bivalves is capable of, wrapping it in something smooth and creating something of beauty of it.
Why did I do that? I would have and have done that for most other people I know, even those with far fewer redeemed qualities than she. I have consciously forced my mind to the positive, sought that which would enable me to see the gold among the pebbles, laughed at myself for my own grumpiness. Here, though, for years, I have been unwilling to see her as a person and value her accordingly, and for that I am deeply and most humbly sorry. She has always been only the monster of those long-ago Sundays, and she didn't deserve that blindness, that disdain from me. Nobody does from anyone.
It's horrible but necessary to be shown that you aren't what you think you are from time to time, to have that moment when your own blinders about yourself and others are painfully ripped away to force you to look honestly at yourself and your own behaviors. I will take what I learned in those lightning flashes of the emergency vehicles strobes and try to remedy these faults. I just wish the revelation had come earlier.
I can't count the Sundays we'd been herded into that classroom and told dubious things about Jesus. As my own understanding of the Bible grew, so, too, did my personal frustration level. By the time I was a senior, I had stopped going to Sunday School at all. I would not be disrespectful, and since that was the year my parents told me that I didn't have to go anymore, I took myself out of a situation that caused me an endless form of tearing inside.
Over the years, friction continued to be there. The basic conflict just never went away. I kept it there like a piece of sandpaper, rubbing my thumb across it, constantly feeling that grit abraiding me instead of somehow doing what even that simplest of bivalves is capable of, wrapping it in something smooth and creating something of beauty of it.
Why did I do that? I would have and have done that for most other people I know, even those with far fewer redeemed qualities than she. I have consciously forced my mind to the positive, sought that which would enable me to see the gold among the pebbles, laughed at myself for my own grumpiness. Here, though, for years, I have been unwilling to see her as a person and value her accordingly, and for that I am deeply and most humbly sorry. She has always been only the monster of those long-ago Sundays, and she didn't deserve that blindness, that disdain from me. Nobody does from anyone.
It's horrible but necessary to be shown that you aren't what you think you are from time to time, to have that moment when your own blinders about yourself and others are painfully ripped away to force you to look honestly at yourself and your own behaviors. I will take what I learned in those lightning flashes of the emergency vehicles strobes and try to remedy these faults. I just wish the revelation had come earlier.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Yeah, So....SCORE....
I went to the Hell of Retail today and did my preshopping for Rome today. I figured that if I could get the first run of tiddly-piddly shopping out of the way, I'd feel less stress later in the week. Inevitably, I will have to go again for whatever it is I forgot despite the fact that I made a very careful list, but at least I think I got most of what I'll need and what my pets will need while I'm gone.
While I was in Hell...um, I mean, shopping... I saw an iHome dock alarm clock in their sale aisle. It was last year's model and the last one they had or something, so they'd shuffled it off to the "sell it fast and cheap" section. It originally cost $50 and I managed to pick it up for $13. I think that's a pretty nice shopping score, actually. Since I have been deeply ambiguous about getting one of these, I was glad to find this one so cheap.
I think it's going to be just what I wanted. I can charge my iPod on it (it doesn't do my iPhone, but I don't really listen to a lot of music off my iPhone anyway....) and use my iPod as part of my alarm clock aparatus now. I can also listen to music in bed without having to hook the iPod up to some elaborate and difficult clock radio system not made for that . Of course, being the Queen of Geeks, my favorite part is that now I can run iLava all the time and it won't run down the battery.... What can I tell you? It's the little things that get me through these troubled times.....
Another thing I love about it is that I can just cut the lights on it OFF. I hate light in the room while I'm trying to sleep. I'm incredibly photosensitive. Part of it has to do with my being a migraineur, I think. If there's a lot of light coming into a room, even from a really bright alarm clock or a night light, I have to figure out some way to block it off. I don't do the whole eye mask thing because it feels weird, but whoever designed this was thoughtful. The clock will light up if you want it to, stay on like a night light if you like, or cut off if you want darkness. Thank you, world of choice.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to having music to doze off to now. I haven't had that for a long time. I used to love to use the sleep function on my old clock radio before I replaced it with my MoonBeam clock. Now that I'm back to something that does music again, I guess I'll have to made a very short playlist of something dreamy. I'm thinking that my usual listening fare isn't going to give me peaceful, fluffy-cloud dreams, somehow...
While I was in Hell...um, I mean, shopping... I saw an iHome dock alarm clock in their sale aisle. It was last year's model and the last one they had or something, so they'd shuffled it off to the "sell it fast and cheap" section. It originally cost $50 and I managed to pick it up for $13. I think that's a pretty nice shopping score, actually. Since I have been deeply ambiguous about getting one of these, I was glad to find this one so cheap.
I think it's going to be just what I wanted. I can charge my iPod on it (it doesn't do my iPhone, but I don't really listen to a lot of music off my iPhone anyway....) and use my iPod as part of my alarm clock aparatus now. I can also listen to music in bed without having to hook the iPod up to some elaborate and difficult clock radio system not made for that . Of course, being the Queen of Geeks, my favorite part is that now I can run iLava all the time and it won't run down the battery.... What can I tell you? It's the little things that get me through these troubled times.....
Another thing I love about it is that I can just cut the lights on it OFF. I hate light in the room while I'm trying to sleep. I'm incredibly photosensitive. Part of it has to do with my being a migraineur, I think. If there's a lot of light coming into a room, even from a really bright alarm clock or a night light, I have to figure out some way to block it off. I don't do the whole eye mask thing because it feels weird, but whoever designed this was thoughtful. The clock will light up if you want it to, stay on like a night light if you like, or cut off if you want darkness. Thank you, world of choice.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to having music to doze off to now. I haven't had that for a long time. I used to love to use the sleep function on my old clock radio before I replaced it with my MoonBeam clock. Now that I'm back to something that does music again, I guess I'll have to made a very short playlist of something dreamy. I'm thinking that my usual listening fare isn't going to give me peaceful, fluffy-cloud dreams, somehow...
The Heart of Blue
The sky today was the most incredible shade of blue. Just driving was a pleasure if I could look up into all that azure glory. I wished for wings or for some improbable fantasy moment where my car left the road and suddenly floated upward. I felt like I could happily drown in it. I felt like I could reach up and grab a corner, could wrap it around myself like a warm blanket and sleep safely, suspended in that cloudless sky like some unfathomable resting place above everything. Every word I know for blue flickered through my mind and felt like silken ribbons trailing through my fingers; there were shades that were cerulean, indigo, sky, true.... I feel moved to composition by that blueness, and maybe I'll post what I produce later if anything comes of it. In the meantime, the sky now is royal darkening to navy, patiently waiting for the pearl stickpin of the full moon to be laid gently upon it. What a lovely set of shades remains to be enjoyed. Even though the sun is down, the heart of blue remains.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Freedom of Speech Quote
~ Soren Kierkegaard
Friday, February 26, 2010
Disconnection
Just when I think that everything that can happen has, another bomb drops, another knock at the door happens, another tremor shakes the foundations. I'm past the point of being able to respond appropriately, I think. I feel a constant hum of it, a physical sensation, and everything else becomes a touch, too, unpleasantly so, every word, every action around me, as stress makes me too sensitive to everything.
I drove home this afternoon with no sense of being in this world at all. I'm sure there was music on the radio, and I'm sure that is was, as usual, up loud. I'm sure that there were other cars on the road and that I drove my accustomed speed, but the only thing about it I remember was being amused that the song "Under Pressure" by Bowie was on as I stopped at a light and that I noticed it was starting to get dark. I couldn't tell you with any accuracy if that's because it was late or because rain was threatening.
Stability needs to return. Until it does, I guess I'll huddle here and try to heal myself in this brief moment of respite.
I drove home this afternoon with no sense of being in this world at all. I'm sure there was music on the radio, and I'm sure that is was, as usual, up loud. I'm sure that there were other cars on the road and that I drove my accustomed speed, but the only thing about it I remember was being amused that the song "Under Pressure" by Bowie was on as I stopped at a light and that I noticed it was starting to get dark. I couldn't tell you with any accuracy if that's because it was late or because rain was threatening.
Stability needs to return. Until it does, I guess I'll huddle here and try to heal myself in this brief moment of respite.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Hughes
His longer poems are wonderful, full of power, but tonight, it's not those weighty works that are calling me. I'm flipping through and reading the little ones, the brief and shimmering bits. He was a master of packing much into little, and I think it's nice, sometimes, just to look at those poems and appreciate them.
I'm going to share a few that caught my eye tonight. They are in no particular order. I hope they please you as they did me.
Star Seeker
I have been a seeker
Seeking a flaming star,
And a flame white star
Has burned my hands
Even from afar.
Walking in a dream-dead world
Circled by iron bars,
I sought a singing star's
Wild beauty.
Now behold my scars.
Heaven
Heaven is
The place where
Happiness is
Everywhere.
Little Lyric (Of Great Importance)
I wish the rent
Was heaven sent.
and one last one:
History
The past has been a mint
Of blood and sorrow.
That must not be
True of tomorrow.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Flight of the Muse
It's February. The local contest is here. I have nothing. I'm empty. AAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH.....
There's a piece I wrote earlier this year, and I think it's strong, but it's not ready yet. It needs to tumble around in that rock polisher between my ears for awhile yet before I send it anywhere.
I wrote something about New Orleans, too, after I came back from my recent sojourn there, but it's a little on the dark side, a little eerie, and it's the most recent thing I have produced. I need to work on it more than any of the others. I'm going back to NOLA soon, too, and I want to see if I still feel the same about the poem and the city after this second trip there. Travel always makes me write, and I was in such a whirl during that first trip that there wasn't any time to do more than get fleeting impressions.
There's a piece I started,felt strongly about, and shelved called "For the Girls" that was inspired by watching the interaction between my students, watching how mean they can be to each other sometimes when one of them doesn't quite fit the expected pattern or is a little different. It, too, is too rough to send. It needs pruning, like a wild-growth shrub that sprang up too fast. I wrote three pages worth of that one before I put it away for later.
I guess it's not true then, to say that I have nothing. I guess it's more a problem that everything I have is weak and unfinished, like a string of houses the builder walked away from, windows gaping open, doors unhung. I don't know whether or not to try to get something together or just to skip it this year. I need my muse to descend and slap me around some so I can get something concretely polished. Maybe a miracle will happen here in the next few days.
There's a piece I wrote earlier this year, and I think it's strong, but it's not ready yet. It needs to tumble around in that rock polisher between my ears for awhile yet before I send it anywhere.
I wrote something about New Orleans, too, after I came back from my recent sojourn there, but it's a little on the dark side, a little eerie, and it's the most recent thing I have produced. I need to work on it more than any of the others. I'm going back to NOLA soon, too, and I want to see if I still feel the same about the poem and the city after this second trip there. Travel always makes me write, and I was in such a whirl during that first trip that there wasn't any time to do more than get fleeting impressions.
There's a piece I started,felt strongly about, and shelved called "For the Girls" that was inspired by watching the interaction between my students, watching how mean they can be to each other sometimes when one of them doesn't quite fit the expected pattern or is a little different. It, too, is too rough to send. It needs pruning, like a wild-growth shrub that sprang up too fast. I wrote three pages worth of that one before I put it away for later.
I guess it's not true then, to say that I have nothing. I guess it's more a problem that everything I have is weak and unfinished, like a string of houses the builder walked away from, windows gaping open, doors unhung. I don't know whether or not to try to get something together or just to skip it this year. I need my muse to descend and slap me around some so I can get something concretely polished. Maybe a miracle will happen here in the next few days.
The "Real" Housewives
Bravo has a lot of reality TV these days. They have a whole string of shows that are variations on a theme, the Real Housewives series. I know you've probably seen the commercials if you're here in the States. They go to Orange County, New York, and Atlanta and follow a group of ultra-rich women around as they basically ham it up and fight with one another. What the hell kind of entertainment is this?
Granted, okay, I've never seen more than about five minutes of any of these, and that was only because I was in the kitchen or the middle of something I couldn't turn loose of to get to the remote after a show I do watch ended. What little of them I have seen has consisted of catfights, romantic melodrama, excessive spending, and dubious parenting. Again, I ask, why is this entertainment?
It pains me to watch someone wreck their lives or the lives of others when its fictional. How much worse is it when it's real? These shows have been on for several years now, so we've been privy to all sorts of moments and momentous decisions that probably are absolutely none of our business at all. Why?
To me, these shows are a part of a larger trend in culture to make the private public. I don't believe that every single thing in a person's life is the public property of the whole world. There seems to be a growing Brave New World mentality that "everybody belongs to everyone else." I don't care for that very much. Maybe it's because I've read that book so often and I know how it turns out. Maybe it's because I am, at heart, such an intensely private person myself.
"But you write a blog," you say. "You're putting your life out there for others to view." Yeah. You're right. I do. And some of the stuff I share here is very personal indeed. However, that being said, I do not have a camera following me around every day (at least not with my knowledge...otherwise, greetings Big Brother, and that's the end of my dystopian novel allusions, I swear....) watching me fall on my face and screw up for the amusement of the whole world. What you see here is what I want you to see. Think of me as a magician on the stage, the juggling fool and not the trainwreck on the news. To me there is a difference.
Maybe that's the way the Housewives think of their shows, too. Maybe once those cameras stop rolling, they take off their cat claws, put away their damp hankies, kick off their heels, and just are. Maybe, after all of it, there is not much reality to it at all. I guess I'll never know. I wish we could find a way to be more fascinated by things other than the spectacle presented.
Granted, okay, I've never seen more than about five minutes of any of these, and that was only because I was in the kitchen or the middle of something I couldn't turn loose of to get to the remote after a show I do watch ended. What little of them I have seen has consisted of catfights, romantic melodrama, excessive spending, and dubious parenting. Again, I ask, why is this entertainment?
It pains me to watch someone wreck their lives or the lives of others when its fictional. How much worse is it when it's real? These shows have been on for several years now, so we've been privy to all sorts of moments and momentous decisions that probably are absolutely none of our business at all. Why?
To me, these shows are a part of a larger trend in culture to make the private public. I don't believe that every single thing in a person's life is the public property of the whole world. There seems to be a growing Brave New World mentality that "everybody belongs to everyone else." I don't care for that very much. Maybe it's because I've read that book so often and I know how it turns out. Maybe it's because I am, at heart, such an intensely private person myself.
"But you write a blog," you say. "You're putting your life out there for others to view." Yeah. You're right. I do. And some of the stuff I share here is very personal indeed. However, that being said, I do not have a camera following me around every day (at least not with my knowledge...otherwise, greetings Big Brother, and that's the end of my dystopian novel allusions, I swear....) watching me fall on my face and screw up for the amusement of the whole world. What you see here is what I want you to see. Think of me as a magician on the stage, the juggling fool and not the trainwreck on the news. To me there is a difference.
Maybe that's the way the Housewives think of their shows, too. Maybe once those cameras stop rolling, they take off their cat claws, put away their damp hankies, kick off their heels, and just are. Maybe, after all of it, there is not much reality to it at all. I guess I'll never know. I wish we could find a way to be more fascinated by things other than the spectacle presented.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Recycling the Barn
I made something for the first time today in a long time. I haven't done anything useful with my hands in ages. I've been thinking though, about doing something with one of my favorite quotes by Emerson for some time now, and cruising around on Etsy has been inspirational. I wanted to have the quote up in my room, but I didn't just want to print it off and frame it. I wanted an actual piece of something with it on it. Today, I decided I would see about making something to fulfill that desire.
I started with a piece of old oak barnboard from the collapsed structure on the north side of my property. I poked around out there, and even though most of the siding was stripped off it two years ago before it fell down to help make the Red Field cabin, I was able to find an interestingly-shaped piece and extract it from the pile. I took my grandfather's hand sander and went after it to clean it up a bit after I got all the old nails out. When I got the roughness and dirt off, a beautiful pattern of graining appeared where the board had been planed. I don't know enough about such things to know if these are hand-planing marks or the marks of one of the old sawmills that ran around here, but it's not the sort of thing you see on modern wood. When I put the final coats of sealer on it and bring out the detail in the wood, it's going to be gorgeous.
I sat down in the floor with my calligraphy lettering book and some paintbrushes and lettered in my quote. That took me about an hour and a half to do. Trying to do some of that fancy lettering with a paint brush on a rough board surface might not have been the best of all choices, but I think it came out okay. I should have put the paint in a squeeze bottle and done it that way. It would have given me a "pen nib" to work with instead of the spreadable brush fibers. Oh well.....
When I was done lettering, I looked at the piece and it was missing something. I thought about the quote, and I knew I'd like to add some symbol of knowledge, but I knew that I wanted whatever I added to be something from the barn, something in keeping with the style of the board. It came to me quickly to cut something out of the tin from the roof. I've seen lots of things in catalogs and at craft shows where people have taken old license plates and so forth and done projects, so I decided why not try to do something with that roofing tin? I went and borrowed a pair of tin snips from my father and came back with the plan to cut out an owl for my piece.
I'm glad I formulated the world's simplest owl pattern. Good LORD. Scissors and paper, it ain't. There has to be an easier way to cut tin. Otherwise, how do all these craftspeople do it? I got the owl done, but it took me at least an hour to get it there. Once I was satisfied with the shape, I hand shaped it to give it a little dimension and started applying some color other than that already present from the rust.
The owl is drying now. Once all the paint has had a chance to cure, I'll assemble it and do any last minute touchups or corrections. Then I'll seal the whole thing. I think it's going to look pretty good considering this is my first project of this kind ever. I like the look of the owl, especially. I may try to do more to recycle pieces out of the old barn. I like the idea of giving things from it new life. It feels good.
I started with a piece of old oak barnboard from the collapsed structure on the north side of my property. I poked around out there, and even though most of the siding was stripped off it two years ago before it fell down to help make the Red Field cabin, I was able to find an interestingly-shaped piece and extract it from the pile. I took my grandfather's hand sander and went after it to clean it up a bit after I got all the old nails out. When I got the roughness and dirt off, a beautiful pattern of graining appeared where the board had been planed. I don't know enough about such things to know if these are hand-planing marks or the marks of one of the old sawmills that ran around here, but it's not the sort of thing you see on modern wood. When I put the final coats of sealer on it and bring out the detail in the wood, it's going to be gorgeous.
I sat down in the floor with my calligraphy lettering book and some paintbrushes and lettered in my quote. That took me about an hour and a half to do. Trying to do some of that fancy lettering with a paint brush on a rough board surface might not have been the best of all choices, but I think it came out okay. I should have put the paint in a squeeze bottle and done it that way. It would have given me a "pen nib" to work with instead of the spreadable brush fibers. Oh well.....
When I was done lettering, I looked at the piece and it was missing something. I thought about the quote, and I knew I'd like to add some symbol of knowledge, but I knew that I wanted whatever I added to be something from the barn, something in keeping with the style of the board. It came to me quickly to cut something out of the tin from the roof. I've seen lots of things in catalogs and at craft shows where people have taken old license plates and so forth and done projects, so I decided why not try to do something with that roofing tin? I went and borrowed a pair of tin snips from my father and came back with the plan to cut out an owl for my piece.
I'm glad I formulated the world's simplest owl pattern. Good LORD. Scissors and paper, it ain't. There has to be an easier way to cut tin. Otherwise, how do all these craftspeople do it? I got the owl done, but it took me at least an hour to get it there. Once I was satisfied with the shape, I hand shaped it to give it a little dimension and started applying some color other than that already present from the rust.
The owl is drying now. Once all the paint has had a chance to cure, I'll assemble it and do any last minute touchups or corrections. Then I'll seal the whole thing. I think it's going to look pretty good considering this is my first project of this kind ever. I like the look of the owl, especially. I may try to do more to recycle pieces out of the old barn. I like the idea of giving things from it new life. It feels good.
The Blue Eagle Returns
After a frustrating afternoon of trying to install my doc cam and not being able to do it (why, oh why won't that USB connection error stop???), I came home expecting a very lackluster evening. There was a minor moment of excitement and curiosity due to a large and unusual piece of telephone company equipment parked in my pasture. They're laying new phone line here, and if you've never seen the machine they use to do that, it's really sort of fascinating. I had no idea it kind of injects the line into the ground. They're working now, in fact. I think I may go out and watch them in awhile. How often does that happen, after all?
I opened my mailbox once that minor mystery was resolved and gathered what was there. In it was a small, flat, red, white, and blue USPS mailer envelope. I was instantly happy. There was only one thing that could be that size: my passport. I had applied for my renewal the last week of January, and just that act had been refreshing to my soul. I hadn't realized how much I missed just knowing it was sitting there, safely waiting for me to grab it and head off somewhere.
My passport had expired several years ago, but I hadn't gotten it renewed because I hadn't had an immediate travel need for it. I should have realized that just having it there was a type of need. There is a calmness that comes from knowing that if a trip comes up, I can go. If I decide at some point for some reason to go abroad, the biggest legal hurdle, that official document, is already secured.
It frees up my daydreaming, and apparently something in my subconscious mind as well because I dreamed of moving away last night. The place I moved to was a mixture of Japan and Ireland, all mountains, sea, and verdant everywhere I looked. I don't know exactly what place my brain was cooking up, but it was gorgeous and full of peace and wonder. Maybe having the passport will be a ticket back to the land of dreaming if nothing else.
I opened my mailbox once that minor mystery was resolved and gathered what was there. In it was a small, flat, red, white, and blue USPS mailer envelope. I was instantly happy. There was only one thing that could be that size: my passport. I had applied for my renewal the last week of January, and just that act had been refreshing to my soul. I hadn't realized how much I missed just knowing it was sitting there, safely waiting for me to grab it and head off somewhere.
My passport had expired several years ago, but I hadn't gotten it renewed because I hadn't had an immediate travel need for it. I should have realized that just having it there was a type of need. There is a calmness that comes from knowing that if a trip comes up, I can go. If I decide at some point for some reason to go abroad, the biggest legal hurdle, that official document, is already secured.
It frees up my daydreaming, and apparently something in my subconscious mind as well because I dreamed of moving away last night. The place I moved to was a mixture of Japan and Ireland, all mountains, sea, and verdant everywhere I looked. I don't know exactly what place my brain was cooking up, but it was gorgeous and full of peace and wonder. Maybe having the passport will be a ticket back to the land of dreaming if nothing else.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Things That Thrill Me
So apparently I'm getting a doc cam soon at school. Freakin' YES. I can't wait to have that thing set up on my desk and running. I've been wanting one for years, and I've really been craving one since I saw a teacher at the school we visited in NOLA using hers with her AP classes. There are so many applications for one in English that it practically boggles the mind. I have so many things that I like to show students that I can just pop under the doc cam now and make huge. Students can put samples of their own work up for discussion. I can share my annotations on texts when we are doing discussion. I guess, if things get really desperate, we can make hand puppets under it, too....
Tech stuff thrills me. All the way down to my geekish socks and Chucks. I know the toys are bells and whistles and that none of them are necessary for good teaching, but man oh man, they make the job so much easier, so much more appealing. They also save me time and help me innovate. Every time I get a new tool or have a new service placed at my disposal, my little brain starts turning, and I start coming up with new projects, new ways to approach my curriculum, new angles in to that knowledge. It stays fresh for me and hopefully it's enjoyable and challenging for the students, too.
We have some new things headed our way soon, and I have just been to a tech conference, so all I need now is a little time to scheme...er...plan. That's what I meant to say. Plan. Right. Plan.
Tech stuff thrills me. All the way down to my geekish socks and Chucks. I know the toys are bells and whistles and that none of them are necessary for good teaching, but man oh man, they make the job so much easier, so much more appealing. They also save me time and help me innovate. Every time I get a new tool or have a new service placed at my disposal, my little brain starts turning, and I start coming up with new projects, new ways to approach my curriculum, new angles in to that knowledge. It stays fresh for me and hopefully it's enjoyable and challenging for the students, too.
We have some new things headed our way soon, and I have just been to a tech conference, so all I need now is a little time to scheme...er...plan. That's what I meant to say. Plan. Right. Plan.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Oh, I Couldn't Ever Have Said It Better....
Valentines Day Quotes, Sayings for Your Valentine: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love. ~Author Unknown"
Oh, how perfect a quote for Valentine's Day! Oh, how perfectly it sums up the goal for my life! Yes, and yes, and yes again.... Sigh....
Oh, how perfect a quote for Valentine's Day! Oh, how perfectly it sums up the goal for my life! Yes, and yes, and yes again.... Sigh....
The Need for Courage
I need more courage. For some things, I am fearless. I am not afraid to go to new places, to move to new countries by myself, to live alone. For others, I can conquer what fear I do have and go forward into whatever consequences there are. I don't fear confrontation, at least not usually, and I have (famously or notoriously) no problem expressing my opinions in word or speech. For others, though, for the things that probably matter the most, I cannot seem to break out of patterns I established so long ago. It's the simple personal interactions that scare me stiff.
How do I repattern myself? I ask myself that question over and over again. I have friends who are truly bold, who have gone out and who have grasped those things they want with both triumphant hands. I continue to sit in my tower and watch, afraid. And don't tell me, "Carpe Diem." Don't tell me, "What's it going to hurt to try?"
In the moments when I'm faced with those situations, it's like I'm back on top of that tall tower in Wales again, hooked to that rappelling harness again. I want to do it, I want to go down the side, but I am frozen, unable to trust in the equipment I have. That decision didn't feel nearly as hard as some others I wind up in, as some of the situations I've been in lately, even.
Maybe someday when it's really important, I will have the courage it takes. Maybe that will be the only thing that really matters and I can be forgiven for all my fear if I can conquer it in that one shining moment. I hope that day comes.
How do I repattern myself? I ask myself that question over and over again. I have friends who are truly bold, who have gone out and who have grasped those things they want with both triumphant hands. I continue to sit in my tower and watch, afraid. And don't tell me, "Carpe Diem." Don't tell me, "What's it going to hurt to try?"
In the moments when I'm faced with those situations, it's like I'm back on top of that tall tower in Wales again, hooked to that rappelling harness again. I want to do it, I want to go down the side, but I am frozen, unable to trust in the equipment I have. That decision didn't feel nearly as hard as some others I wind up in, as some of the situations I've been in lately, even.
Maybe someday when it's really important, I will have the courage it takes. Maybe that will be the only thing that really matters and I can be forgiven for all my fear if I can conquer it in that one shining moment. I hope that day comes.
Kayak Kissing Commercial
I guess this would make a meeting a lot more interesting. Unfortunately, I always wind up as the guy to the right....
Birthday
I had a good one this year. My best friend had a day of stuff planned, so I was just sort of carried from place to place for a day. It was wonderful not to have to choose what to do or where to go since I spend almost every minute of every day making those decisions for myself and others. I loved everything we did. The food we had was wonderful, and we painted pottery which was something I haven't done since I worked for a ceramics studio in college. It was relaxing because I was making something, and it also brought back a lot of old memories.
After painting, we went to Borders, and of course, I am always in my home territory in a real bookstore. I enjoy just the energy of being in them. I found two good things to read, one for AP, and one for personal amusement.
After I got back from Jackson, I went to the hospital to see a friend of mine's little girl. She and I share the same birthday. She got sick the evening of the 12th, and she's been having tests and procedures ever since. I remember what it was like to be little and sick, and I know all too well what it's like to have your birthday suck, so I wanted to take her something. I found a very cute little giraffe at Babies-R-Us in Jackson (one of the scariest places I think I've ever been) and took it to her since, you know, giraffes make all things better. She seemed to be doing okay, but she already understood the mechanics of hospitals at age 3, knowing that she couldn't go home as soon as they put the IV in her hand. I wish no child ever had to have that knowledge.
After painting, we went to Borders, and of course, I am always in my home territory in a real bookstore. I enjoy just the energy of being in them. I found two good things to read, one for AP, and one for personal amusement.
After I got back from Jackson, I went to the hospital to see a friend of mine's little girl. She and I share the same birthday. She got sick the evening of the 12th, and she's been having tests and procedures ever since. I remember what it was like to be little and sick, and I know all too well what it's like to have your birthday suck, so I wanted to take her something. I found a very cute little giraffe at Babies-R-Us in Jackson (one of the scariest places I think I've ever been) and took it to her since, you know, giraffes make all things better. She seemed to be doing okay, but she already understood the mechanics of hospitals at age 3, knowing that she couldn't go home as soon as they put the IV in her hand. I wish no child ever had to have that knowledge.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Dinner and Disquiet
I had a chance last night to have dinner with someone I haven't seen since high school. We've been chatting some on FaceBook, that mass meeting place of people past and present, and it was so good to see him again. He, too, left here after college and went elsewhere. Unlike me, though, he hasn't decided to come back. He was home to visit, and as we ate and talked, I saw this place through his eyes.
He asked me what there was that is exciting. I wanted to laugh. Not a thing. This is not a place that does exciting. I talked about a couple of things that have changed here recently, and they are big, good things, really, but not things that probably will thrill the soul of someone accustomed to the pace of a faster life.
We talked about living abroad and it stirred memories in me of what it was like to be somewhere else, to be in that life again. Inevitably, he asked me why I stay here. I answered him as I always do, that I haven't been given any sign that I'm supposed to be somewhere else, but I felt so frustrated by that answer. Do I love what I do here? Yes. Still. In spite of it all. Does some part of me still look to the skies and wonder about soaring again? I can't say that's not true. What's wrong with me? Why does there have to be this perpetual yearning, this constant struggle if this is the right place?
My friend will get on a plane again in two days and plunge back into that other life. I remember what that was like. I remember the dual-edged feeling, the pain of leaving my family and friends and the soaring excitement of heading back into that other place, into my life. Part of me can't help but envy him spreading those wings and flying away even while another part of me is still glad to be standing firmly on the ground. I wonder if these two disparate people will ever find a way to be at peace.
He asked me what there was that is exciting. I wanted to laugh. Not a thing. This is not a place that does exciting. I talked about a couple of things that have changed here recently, and they are big, good things, really, but not things that probably will thrill the soul of someone accustomed to the pace of a faster life.
We talked about living abroad and it stirred memories in me of what it was like to be somewhere else, to be in that life again. Inevitably, he asked me why I stay here. I answered him as I always do, that I haven't been given any sign that I'm supposed to be somewhere else, but I felt so frustrated by that answer. Do I love what I do here? Yes. Still. In spite of it all. Does some part of me still look to the skies and wonder about soaring again? I can't say that's not true. What's wrong with me? Why does there have to be this perpetual yearning, this constant struggle if this is the right place?
My friend will get on a plane again in two days and plunge back into that other life. I remember what that was like. I remember the dual-edged feeling, the pain of leaving my family and friends and the soaring excitement of heading back into that other place, into my life. Part of me can't help but envy him spreading those wings and flying away even while another part of me is still glad to be standing firmly on the ground. I wonder if these two disparate people will ever find a way to be at peace.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Highway Freaks
On the way home from Jackson tonight, something odd happened. I was flying down the interstate as usual listening to my iPod, thoughts rambling idly over the events of the conference I'd left behind not long before. It was dark, and I was both passing vehicles and being passed depending on the different speeds we all were traveling. I was somewhere deep in Bienville National Forest where the exits are few and far between when the idiot in the Suburban pulled up behind me.
He came flying up fast while I was pulled out to pass something else, and I pulled in to let him by. He zipped past and pulled in ahead of me. Then he slowed way down. This happens. People don't use cruise control. They get a phone call. They suddenly realize they are driving at a ridiculous speed. Whatever. I pulled out and went to pass him.
He sped up.
I used the might and power of my four cylinder engine and got around him. By this point, I was doing about 80. I don't usually drive that fast unless I'm having a bad day and am listening to loud rock. It was night, I was in deer country, and the only angry I was was at the weirdo in the truck.
A few minutes later, he came slowly cruising up around me again, lingering in the passing lane. I slowed down some, hoping he'd just go. Again, he pulled in ahead of me and slowed down. I slowed down, too, intending to force him to go on, but he kept losing speed. I pulled out to pass, and he started accelerating again, keeping pace with me as I steadily went faster and faster.
I redlined it, hit 85 or 90 and fled. He dropped back for awhile, but I slowed down after a few miles, and next thing I knew he was right back in my rear view mirror on my bumper. I called home at that point because I felt like I needed to tell somebody something. It was creeping me out. I felt like I was trapped in a TV show or a melodramatic novel. I was about a minute away from calling the Highway Patrol when I saw the lights of a major exit I knew up ahead.
There was also finally another vehicle around us, an eighteen-wheeler, and I stuck my little Cruiser to the back of it like a scared kitten to its mother until I could take the exit. The Suburban stayed behind me until the last minute, and then it pulled around the truck and went on. I sat at a gas station at that exit for awhile, just trying to get my nerve back before I came the rest of the way home.
I've never had anything like that happen to me before. The plates on the vehicle, what little of them I saw, were in state, and fairly local. The whole thing made me wish I was driving my dad's huge four-wheel drive Dodge so I could have just been like, "Keep screwing with me, buddy. I will just freakin' drive over you." I hope I never go through any more interstate fun like that again.
He came flying up fast while I was pulled out to pass something else, and I pulled in to let him by. He zipped past and pulled in ahead of me. Then he slowed way down. This happens. People don't use cruise control. They get a phone call. They suddenly realize they are driving at a ridiculous speed. Whatever. I pulled out and went to pass him.
He sped up.
I used the might and power of my four cylinder engine and got around him. By this point, I was doing about 80. I don't usually drive that fast unless I'm having a bad day and am listening to loud rock. It was night, I was in deer country, and the only angry I was was at the weirdo in the truck.
A few minutes later, he came slowly cruising up around me again, lingering in the passing lane. I slowed down some, hoping he'd just go. Again, he pulled in ahead of me and slowed down. I slowed down, too, intending to force him to go on, but he kept losing speed. I pulled out to pass, and he started accelerating again, keeping pace with me as I steadily went faster and faster.
I redlined it, hit 85 or 90 and fled. He dropped back for awhile, but I slowed down after a few miles, and next thing I knew he was right back in my rear view mirror on my bumper. I called home at that point because I felt like I needed to tell somebody something. It was creeping me out. I felt like I was trapped in a TV show or a melodramatic novel. I was about a minute away from calling the Highway Patrol when I saw the lights of a major exit I knew up ahead.
There was also finally another vehicle around us, an eighteen-wheeler, and I stuck my little Cruiser to the back of it like a scared kitten to its mother until I could take the exit. The Suburban stayed behind me until the last minute, and then it pulled around the truck and went on. I sat at a gas station at that exit for awhile, just trying to get my nerve back before I came the rest of the way home.
I've never had anything like that happen to me before. The plates on the vehicle, what little of them I saw, were in state, and fairly local. The whole thing made me wish I was driving my dad's huge four-wheel drive Dodge so I could have just been like, "Keep screwing with me, buddy. I will just freakin' drive over you." I hope I never go through any more interstate fun like that again.
Podcasting
I finally got to go to a hands-on podcasting session today. I am amazed how simple it finally turned out to be. Sometimes, I just need somebody to sit me down and walk me through it. (Kinesthetic learner, much?) We used Macs and GarageBand, and never, never have I wanted a Mac so much as I did when we were working with that software. It was just so freakin' easy. Everything was intuitive and drag-and-drop simple.
As much as I love this little netbook for its size and portability, I wish it had some of the programs that MacBook did. Why can't the computer companies "play nice" together and give us all something that's sort of the best of all of it? I know, I know...and the spheres will align and cats and dogs will dance together....
Anyway, that little philosophical excursion aside, I think I can do the whole podcasting thing now. I want to try to make a few on my own, and I have a couple of ideas for some projects for my classes, too. I just need some time to plan. It seems like my head is full to bursting with good ideas, projects, and units, but I have no time to plan. All my time is consumed with red tape and trivia. Maybe I can just focus on one big new thing and develop it in the next little while. If nothing else, maybe summer will give me some time.
My students do such amazing work with all the things I put in front of them. They are naturally able with technology. I just can't imagine what sort of wonders they would come up with if I can just get a little bit of time together to make a unit where their end product is a podcast. It should be (once I get the groundwork done) a lot of fun, too. Now if only we had a cart of MacBooks..... Oh Technooooloooogyyyyyy......
As much as I love this little netbook for its size and portability, I wish it had some of the programs that MacBook did. Why can't the computer companies "play nice" together and give us all something that's sort of the best of all of it? I know, I know...and the spheres will align and cats and dogs will dance together....
Anyway, that little philosophical excursion aside, I think I can do the whole podcasting thing now. I want to try to make a few on my own, and I have a couple of ideas for some projects for my classes, too. I just need some time to plan. It seems like my head is full to bursting with good ideas, projects, and units, but I have no time to plan. All my time is consumed with red tape and trivia. Maybe I can just focus on one big new thing and develop it in the next little while. If nothing else, maybe summer will give me some time.
My students do such amazing work with all the things I put in front of them. They are naturally able with technology. I just can't imagine what sort of wonders they would come up with if I can just get a little bit of time together to make a unit where their end product is a podcast. It should be (once I get the groundwork done) a lot of fun, too. Now if only we had a cart of MacBooks..... Oh Technooooloooogyyyyyy......
Sunday, February 07, 2010
The Magic Carpet
While I was in New Orleans, I got to go to Arcadian Books and poke around just a little. We only had a few minutes to browse, but in that time, I managed to find a signed copy of the Ellen Douglas/Walter Anderson book The Magic Carpet. It was, in fact, one of the first books that caught my eye, almost like it was sitting there on that high shelf waiting on me. I grabbed it quickly and tucked it under my arm with a heart filled with glee. It is, after all, February, the month I fill with those tiny little delights to fend off the Birthday Crap. This jewel qualifies in the extreme. The Magic Carpet is a combination of Walter Anderson's woodcuts for folk and fairy tales and Ellen Douglas' prose retellings of the tales that inspired him to make those wonderful works. This is the first time I've actually been able to get my hands on it although I've been wanting it for years. It's so lovely it makes me sigh.
I love Walter Anderson's art in all the forms I've found it, watercolor, woodcut, carved figure, ceramic form.... His watercolors are experiments in the spirit translated into solid form, and his woodcuts always remind me of the art of some lost culture. I have several of them bought from Realizations on the coast hung in various places here in the house. The combination of his otherworldly art and Douglas' sensitive and unusual tellings of these familiar tales makes for a book I can pick up with pleasure again and again.
I have it sitting on the old army trunk I use for a coffee table. It looks right there. It is both something I've wanted for a long time and a reminder of a good recent trip. I guess it was an early present from the Crescent City.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
What I Want for My Birthday
My birthday slips closer on little velvet cat feet, and people, especially my parents, have started asking me what I want this year. I haven't the faintest idea. I know I need to come up with some kind of list, but the truth is I don't know. There isn't any one item or object I've been yearning for (well, other than a big Hemi Charger, and I think it unlikely that I'll get that for a birthday gift), and anything small I have a tendency to pick up for myself all along.
What I really want for my birthday, of course, is not something that can easily be wrapped up. I'd like a clear sense of where I'm going in the next few years. Maybe somebody could give me a crystal ball of some kind. Alternately, I could also use a big compass with a needle that always points toward the right thing, the right people. Sometimes lately, I feel like I'm wandering a little lost.
Then again, maybe I'm just supposed to get a sense of contentment for my birthday. That won't be something I can get from anyone but myself. Maybe that's what I'll see about wrapping up for myself.
What I really want for my birthday, of course, is not something that can easily be wrapped up. I'd like a clear sense of where I'm going in the next few years. Maybe somebody could give me a crystal ball of some kind. Alternately, I could also use a big compass with a needle that always points toward the right thing, the right people. Sometimes lately, I feel like I'm wandering a little lost.
Then again, maybe I'm just supposed to get a sense of contentment for my birthday. That won't be something I can get from anyone but myself. Maybe that's what I'll see about wrapping up for myself.
Wrack-a-frackin' iTunes
I have spent most of the evening trying to reload my iPhone. This morning, iTunes notified me that it was time to download the newest version and I did. I needed to update my iPhone, so I hooked it up after the upgrade was done, and that's when the real fun began. I got the first error message telling me that iTunes didn't recognize my phone anymore. It suggested reformatting my phone. I had dropped it this morning, and although I thought it was okay, I thought maybe something had gotten messed up without my realizing it, so I decided to go ahead with the reset.
After the reset, iTunes could recognize the phone, but all my apps were gone. Nothing bought from iTunes would load. I "wasn't authorized" on this computer anymore, never mind the fact that this is the computer I've been using the whole time.... AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH........
I redownloaded a new copy of iTunes and had it "repair" itself. It then suddenly realized that, oh my gosh, yes, by cracky, it could connect to the iTunes store, and lookit, I really HAD paid for all that stuff (even if it was free), and it condescended to reload my phone very, very slowly.
If you think it took a long time to read, you have no idea how many hours it took to do. Thank God there were reruns of I Love Lucy on to keep me laughing in the interval. I have very limited patience with things like this anyway, so only Lucy cramming chocolates down her blouse and spying on Bill Holden coupled with the knowledge that fragile iPhones shouldn't fly kept me from playing expensive frisbee once or twice today. Next time, I won't reset the phone. I'll start with a clean install of iTunes first.
After the reset, iTunes could recognize the phone, but all my apps were gone. Nothing bought from iTunes would load. I "wasn't authorized" on this computer anymore, never mind the fact that this is the computer I've been using the whole time.... AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH........
I redownloaded a new copy of iTunes and had it "repair" itself. It then suddenly realized that, oh my gosh, yes, by cracky, it could connect to the iTunes store, and lookit, I really HAD paid for all that stuff (even if it was free), and it condescended to reload my phone very, very slowly.
If you think it took a long time to read, you have no idea how many hours it took to do. Thank God there were reruns of I Love Lucy on to keep me laughing in the interval. I have very limited patience with things like this anyway, so only Lucy cramming chocolates down her blouse and spying on Bill Holden coupled with the knowledge that fragile iPhones shouldn't fly kept me from playing expensive frisbee once or twice today. Next time, I won't reset the phone. I'll start with a clean install of iTunes first.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Random Stuff
Nothing deep tonight. I'm tired and a little sad tonight, so I definitely don't feel much like philosophy. I don't want to talk about the sources of the sadness here, so I'm going to focus on totally irrelevant fluff instead. Excuse my indulgence and escapism. Perchance it will elevate my mood.
I got my lightsaber chopsticks from ThinkGeek today. They are awesome. I can't wait to use them. I got the Vader ones, so they're bright red, too, and cheery. I don't know exactly how durable they will be, but they look great. I will try to refrain from waving them around in the air and making sound effects.
I also finally got a hard case for my iPhone. I spend a long time looking at different cases and trying to decide, but I wound up with a wooden case made from actual redwood. It feels really good in my hand, it protects the phone admirably, and it is really different from everything else I saw. I love the fact that it's wood and not plastic or silicone. It didn't cost any more than the other types of cases, and it even allows me to remove the bottom so I can dock it. It was just what I wanted.
After being out of school for three days, it was so nice just to be back in my classroom today. I missed my students so much. They were glad to see me because they didn't have a huge pile of sub work, but I was glad to see them because it was them. They're the reason I keep doing this, after all.
I'm getting ready to do Shakespeare's biography tomorrow. I can't wait. I love Shakespeare. I know it may not thrill the students' soul, but it is always a highlight of my year. Shakespeare makes me happy. I hope the crew I have this year will go with me on the journey.
I think this is enough random bouncing for tonight. I'm going to go grab 72 pounds of dog or so and go to bed. Maybe a snoring pit bull will be a remedy for the blues.
I got my lightsaber chopsticks from ThinkGeek today. They are awesome. I can't wait to use them. I got the Vader ones, so they're bright red, too, and cheery. I don't know exactly how durable they will be, but they look great. I will try to refrain from waving them around in the air and making sound effects.
I also finally got a hard case for my iPhone. I spend a long time looking at different cases and trying to decide, but I wound up with a wooden case made from actual redwood. It feels really good in my hand, it protects the phone admirably, and it is really different from everything else I saw. I love the fact that it's wood and not plastic or silicone. It didn't cost any more than the other types of cases, and it even allows me to remove the bottom so I can dock it. It was just what I wanted.
After being out of school for three days, it was so nice just to be back in my classroom today. I missed my students so much. They were glad to see me because they didn't have a huge pile of sub work, but I was glad to see them because it was them. They're the reason I keep doing this, after all.
I'm getting ready to do Shakespeare's biography tomorrow. I can't wait. I love Shakespeare. I know it may not thrill the students' soul, but it is always a highlight of my year. Shakespeare makes me happy. I hope the crew I have this year will go with me on the journey.
I think this is enough random bouncing for tonight. I'm going to go grab 72 pounds of dog or so and go to bed. Maybe a snoring pit bull will be a remedy for the blues.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
New Orleans
I just got back from a professional trip to New Orleans. I haven't been there since I was six or seven years old, and I remember almost nothing about that trip, so this was really like a first trip down for me. Because my main focus was the school visit we were on, I didn't have a lot of time to do the touristy thing, but I did get to do some. Mostly, I walked and walked.
It's an old, old place. It feels that way, too. The age seeps up from the damp ground like a vapor. It had that river-city feel to it, but it also had a feeling far different from Memphis or St. Louis. I didn't feel like Memphis or St. Louis would swallow me down by accident. New Orleans kind of felt that way. Oh, it wouldn't be a personal thing, really. Probably, it would have been an accident. But I would be gone all the same.
I think I needed more time with the city to shake that impression, time to be there in the clear light of day instead of traipsing around the dark streets at night, time to see more that just the tourist dives, time to see the true history. I will go back down and try it again. Any city with so much heart deserves a deeper exploration.
It's an old, old place. It feels that way, too. The age seeps up from the damp ground like a vapor. It had that river-city feel to it, but it also had a feeling far different from Memphis or St. Louis. I didn't feel like Memphis or St. Louis would swallow me down by accident. New Orleans kind of felt that way. Oh, it wouldn't be a personal thing, really. Probably, it would have been an accident. But I would be gone all the same.
I think I needed more time with the city to shake that impression, time to be there in the clear light of day instead of traipsing around the dark streets at night, time to see more that just the tourist dives, time to see the true history. I will go back down and try it again. Any city with so much heart deserves a deeper exploration.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
And One More
There's one more things I should have added to that list: get a tattoo. I've been thinking about it for years. I know some people have very strong negative opinions about them, but I really can't help that. I'm also not doing it for them, to be honest. I have a design in mind, have had for many years now, and once I find the right artist to do it and somebody to go with me and hold my hand (possibly render me unconscious) while I get it done, I'm going to get it. Will I someday be an eighty-year-old with that design inked on me? God willing, yes. Get over it. I will grin my toothless grin every time I see it.
Things I Still Want to Do
I've been having troubling dreams the past little while, nightmare futures where I am trapped in places and situations that are horrible to me. To combat this, I am making a list of things I still want to do, still plan to do instead.
1) Stand before the Great Sphynx -- I have always, always loved Ancient Egypt. Some of the first books I checked out of any library as a tiny child were about the gods and pharoahs of that long-dead civilization. One day, I am going to go to Giza and see the pyramids and the lion-bodied mystery. Maybe it will whisper to me.
2) Learn to throw pottery and handform pottery. I almost had this one. I was so close I actually had clay on my hands. I will do this. Now I have to put it back on my list. Frustrating, that.....
3) See the Taj Mahal. -- One of my students brought me back a beautiful little alabaster model of this wonder of the world when he went to India for the first time. It is among my treasured items. I have always wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Something about the structure, even in pictures, calls out to me.
4) Open a small rescue kennel for pit bulls -- There is not a purely pit bull rescue organization in this area, and I'd like to give these worthy animals a second chance the way somebody did for my Roux.
5) Walk along the Great Wall -- Seems most of my goals have to do with going somewhere. I want to see this monument of man, one of the only works of man so large that it can be seen from space. Plus, I want to see China, a task much more complicated than it sounds. It's a bit like saying "I want to see America," really. Speaking of which....
6) Go to Albuquerque to see some of my family's personal past and another part of this country -- My father was raised out west. I want to take a road trip and stop in Texas and Oklahoma along the way to see all the places I've heard about all my life and reconnect with that side of my family.
There are more things, of course, but these are enough for now. Enough to refocus me and give me perspective, give me something to scheme and plan for. Hopefully they are enough to give me something to dream about instead of the horrible stuff my subconscious has been kicking out lately in its place.
1) Stand before the Great Sphynx -- I have always, always loved Ancient Egypt. Some of the first books I checked out of any library as a tiny child were about the gods and pharoahs of that long-dead civilization. One day, I am going to go to Giza and see the pyramids and the lion-bodied mystery. Maybe it will whisper to me.
2) Learn to throw pottery and handform pottery. I almost had this one. I was so close I actually had clay on my hands. I will do this. Now I have to put it back on my list. Frustrating, that.....
3) See the Taj Mahal. -- One of my students brought me back a beautiful little alabaster model of this wonder of the world when he went to India for the first time. It is among my treasured items. I have always wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Something about the structure, even in pictures, calls out to me.
4) Open a small rescue kennel for pit bulls -- There is not a purely pit bull rescue organization in this area, and I'd like to give these worthy animals a second chance the way somebody did for my Roux.
5) Walk along the Great Wall -- Seems most of my goals have to do with going somewhere. I want to see this monument of man, one of the only works of man so large that it can be seen from space. Plus, I want to see China, a task much more complicated than it sounds. It's a bit like saying "I want to see America," really. Speaking of which....
6) Go to Albuquerque to see some of my family's personal past and another part of this country -- My father was raised out west. I want to take a road trip and stop in Texas and Oklahoma along the way to see all the places I've heard about all my life and reconnect with that side of my family.
There are more things, of course, but these are enough for now. Enough to refocus me and give me perspective, give me something to scheme and plan for. Hopefully they are enough to give me something to dream about instead of the horrible stuff my subconscious has been kicking out lately in its place.
Extreme Home Makeover
I know this show has been on awhile, but I am watching my first episode of it right now. I'm tearing up the whole time. It's beautiful. What a lovely, lovely thing. Whoever came up with the concept for this show ought to get some kind of award.
The family they're honoring today has a prison warden father, a mother who keeps children for others and five kids in the house. They're changing lives and not asking for anything for themselves, just going through the process of doing the right things like so many people try to do with nothing. It's inspiring and literally restoring to my heart to see people like this get some great good things given to them. I know that doing good is its own reward, but sometimes when the world sees and acknowledges those sacrifices and honors them, even for a minute, it is beautiful.
I love that it the homes are built by local volunteers. I love that the products and housewares are donated by national corporations. I love that they send the family off on a vacation instead of forcing them to build even though you know these families would gladly grab a hammer or a shovel.
Being the hosts of this show must be just the best job in the world. I hope it runs for a long, long time. It is worthy.
The family they're honoring today has a prison warden father, a mother who keeps children for others and five kids in the house. They're changing lives and not asking for anything for themselves, just going through the process of doing the right things like so many people try to do with nothing. It's inspiring and literally restoring to my heart to see people like this get some great good things given to them. I know that doing good is its own reward, but sometimes when the world sees and acknowledges those sacrifices and honors them, even for a minute, it is beautiful.
I love that it the homes are built by local volunteers. I love that the products and housewares are donated by national corporations. I love that they send the family off on a vacation instead of forcing them to build even though you know these families would gladly grab a hammer or a shovel.
Being the hosts of this show must be just the best job in the world. I hope it runs for a long, long time. It is worthy.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Breathing
I can't breathe enough these days. Literally and figuratively.
I've been coughing that hard cough that hurts. I guess I need to go see my friendly neighborhood doctor again. Sigh. Or rather, hack....
I can't get any breathing room figuratively, either. I have so many things coming due all at once. It's unreal. Every time I get a pile of papers off me, somebody comes in and lays more in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in a spinning tornado of red tape and triplicate forms. It's like something from Alice in Wonderland but not nearly that fanciful or fun.
Last night in yoga, our instructor told us to focus on our breath. I did. I sat and tried to clear my mind of everything but the act of pulling air into my lungs and releasing it from them. Between the stress I still carried between my shoulder blades even at the end of practice and the inability of my stupid body to inhale like a regular person without coughing, it wasn't a great success.
I wish I could go lay on a old white cotton quilt in the middle of a sun-drenched spring pasture somewhere. I wish I could smell the grass just greening around me, hear the wind rushing through leaves soft and new on flexible limbs. I wish I could just be there in that place until all the things that are binding me, folding me, restricting me melt away and leave me completely free.
I don't guess that's an option just now, though. I guess I'll settle for another mug of hot tea and a daydream instead. It's an awfully poor tradeoff, all things considered.
I've been coughing that hard cough that hurts. I guess I need to go see my friendly neighborhood doctor again. Sigh. Or rather, hack....
I can't get any breathing room figuratively, either. I have so many things coming due all at once. It's unreal. Every time I get a pile of papers off me, somebody comes in and lays more in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in a spinning tornado of red tape and triplicate forms. It's like something from Alice in Wonderland but not nearly that fanciful or fun.
Last night in yoga, our instructor told us to focus on our breath. I did. I sat and tried to clear my mind of everything but the act of pulling air into my lungs and releasing it from them. Between the stress I still carried between my shoulder blades even at the end of practice and the inability of my stupid body to inhale like a regular person without coughing, it wasn't a great success.
I wish I could go lay on a old white cotton quilt in the middle of a sun-drenched spring pasture somewhere. I wish I could smell the grass just greening around me, hear the wind rushing through leaves soft and new on flexible limbs. I wish I could just be there in that place until all the things that are binding me, folding me, restricting me melt away and leave me completely free.
I don't guess that's an option just now, though. I guess I'll settle for another mug of hot tea and a daydream instead. It's an awfully poor tradeoff, all things considered.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Because We're Reading Dystopia
- In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act. ~George Orwell
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Machine Curse Strikes Again
Sigh.
Sometimes I wonder about that old Machine Curse....
There were two pops tonight during the sermon, one soft, almost unnoticable, almost like someone bumping a microphone by accident, the other loud enough to make me jump. It came from near the organ, and I sit next to the organ on the front pew during the sermon so it's easy to get back to it for the invitation hymn and the postlude. I cautiously looked at the organ, but from the angle of my seat, I couldn't see any problems, and I assumed that our pastor had accidentally tapped the top of the podium or something. I relaxed and tried to focus my mind.
When it came time for my friend and I to go back to the instruments for the invitation hymn, we silently took our seats, and I noticed that the lights were off on all the stops. I thought maybe I had accidentally flipped the master power switch, so I tried that. No joy. Only a few moments remained before the start of the hymn. It's sort of amazing what you can do when you're motivated. I unplugged and replugged the organ, reset the breaker on the big surge box that protects it and tried a few other things before I looked across at my pianist friend and mouthed, "It's dead." She'd been watching me frantically flail. Being the consummate professional she is, she didn't bat an eye. She just carried on. Our teacher, Mrs. Sarah, would have been proud.
After the service, the morning organist and I tried to revive the stricken instrument to no avail. Whatever went boom took it all the way out. It will require professional aid. I just hope that it can be restored. I'm no Bach, but the thought of it being out for a long time or gone for good is not comforting.
Sometimes I wonder about that old Machine Curse....
There were two pops tonight during the sermon, one soft, almost unnoticable, almost like someone bumping a microphone by accident, the other loud enough to make me jump. It came from near the organ, and I sit next to the organ on the front pew during the sermon so it's easy to get back to it for the invitation hymn and the postlude. I cautiously looked at the organ, but from the angle of my seat, I couldn't see any problems, and I assumed that our pastor had accidentally tapped the top of the podium or something. I relaxed and tried to focus my mind.
When it came time for my friend and I to go back to the instruments for the invitation hymn, we silently took our seats, and I noticed that the lights were off on all the stops. I thought maybe I had accidentally flipped the master power switch, so I tried that. No joy. Only a few moments remained before the start of the hymn. It's sort of amazing what you can do when you're motivated. I unplugged and replugged the organ, reset the breaker on the big surge box that protects it and tried a few other things before I looked across at my pianist friend and mouthed, "It's dead." She'd been watching me frantically flail. Being the consummate professional she is, she didn't bat an eye. She just carried on. Our teacher, Mrs. Sarah, would have been proud.
After the service, the morning organist and I tried to revive the stricken instrument to no avail. Whatever went boom took it all the way out. It will require professional aid. I just hope that it can be restored. I'm no Bach, but the thought of it being out for a long time or gone for good is not comforting.
Publication
Friday when I came home, I found a large envelope waiting for me in my mailbox. The return address was from one of our local community colleges. I knew what it was almost immediately: the literary magazine in which last year's winning poem had been published.
I came up the driveway, gathered up the rest of my stuff, and came on in the house. I didn't stay in the car to open it. I felt strangely hesitant about the whole thing. I got everything situated inside, fed all the furry creatures, and then opened the package.
The magazine is lovely this year as always. They've designed an interesting theme. I flipped through and found mine fairly quickly.
It's always so different when I see my stuff in print. I feel tremendously proud that it got in, but at the same time, I always see at least a dozen things I wish I'd done differently. I never stop tinkering with the poems anyway, but somehow all their glaring faults stick out so much more clearly once they've been formatted and printed professionally.
Maybe my stuff isn't meant for that, after all. Or maybe everybody feels this way about what they write. I don't know, really. I wish I had a community of other poets to talk to about it.
I came up the driveway, gathered up the rest of my stuff, and came on in the house. I didn't stay in the car to open it. I felt strangely hesitant about the whole thing. I got everything situated inside, fed all the furry creatures, and then opened the package.
The magazine is lovely this year as always. They've designed an interesting theme. I flipped through and found mine fairly quickly.
It's always so different when I see my stuff in print. I feel tremendously proud that it got in, but at the same time, I always see at least a dozen things I wish I'd done differently. I never stop tinkering with the poems anyway, but somehow all their glaring faults stick out so much more clearly once they've been formatted and printed professionally.
Maybe my stuff isn't meant for that, after all. Or maybe everybody feels this way about what they write. I don't know, really. I wish I had a community of other poets to talk to about it.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Grrr....
I hate it when the inanimate objects malfunction. My netbook has been wonky for a week or so. It started with my Google sidebar getting stupid, and it went from there. I've spent the last four hours systematically fixing one problem after another until I think, now, that I have everything back in its little slot and hole. It's been like working one of those puzzles where you have to slide all the pieces around to make a complete picture. I hate those puzzles....
I picked up a virus from somewhere at school, and it came in on my external hard drive. Muninn brought home something nasty to the nest. Norton cleaned it out of both Huginn and Muninn, but CRAP this has been a long day computer wise. I have had to restore the system three times to get all the system functionality back, reinstall Norton (because it just magically and inexplicably dis-a-freakin-peared) and then update and retweak a bunch of stuff. Sigh. It's not like I needed a new hobby, either.
I also reset and reinstalled my wireless router because I thought that was the problem. Oh the invectives I heaped on my poor innocent (this time, anyway) router.
All of this makes me wish I had a big, big hammer that I could use to smash bits off the people who make viruses. Not all of them. At least not at first. Just the soft, painful bits. Maybe that would be some comfort for a mostly lost Saturday.
I picked up a virus from somewhere at school, and it came in on my external hard drive. Muninn brought home something nasty to the nest. Norton cleaned it out of both Huginn and Muninn, but CRAP this has been a long day computer wise. I have had to restore the system three times to get all the system functionality back, reinstall Norton (because it just magically and inexplicably dis-a-freakin-peared) and then update and retweak a bunch of stuff. Sigh. It's not like I needed a new hobby, either.
I also reset and reinstalled my wireless router because I thought that was the problem. Oh the invectives I heaped on my poor innocent (this time, anyway) router.
All of this makes me wish I had a big, big hammer that I could use to smash bits off the people who make viruses. Not all of them. At least not at first. Just the soft, painful bits. Maybe that would be some comfort for a mostly lost Saturday.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Cancelled Class
I came home today after a long day to find that little red light blinking on my answering machine. I hate that answering machine light. I never come home to find that a friend has called just to say hi. I never come home to find that someone has left me a fortune or that I've won a fabulous prize. It's always an obligation, a reminder of something I want to avoid like a doctor's appointment, or bad news of some kind. It's gotten to the point that I almost hate even to look toward the answering machine when I come through the door in a good mood because I just know, know, that if that menacing incarnadine light is winking at me, somebody is about to ask me for something or I'm about to have to put out a fire somewhere.
Today was no exception. When I pressed the button, there were a couple of harmless messages followed by the whammy. My ceramics class, the long-awaited pottery class, has been canceled due to low enrollment. Crap. Now what? I was so excited about this, and it's been jerked out from under my feet after I've done no more than throw one small cylinder. I can't let this be the end. There has to be a way to keep learning this art in spite of the best efforts of the hateful little light to the contrary.
Today was no exception. When I pressed the button, there were a couple of harmless messages followed by the whammy. My ceramics class, the long-awaited pottery class, has been canceled due to low enrollment. Crap. Now what? I was so excited about this, and it's been jerked out from under my feet after I've done no more than throw one small cylinder. I can't let this be the end. There has to be a way to keep learning this art in spite of the best efforts of the hateful little light to the contrary.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Giraffes Make Me Happy
And they always have. I don't know why, exactly. Maybe they make everybody smile. I can't imagine anybody looking at one and being afraid or sad. There is something somehow...comforting...about a giraffe. When I was a baby, one of my favorite toys was a small yellow plastic giraffe with bright blue eyes. It squeaked when it was squeezed. I called it, originally enough, Raffy. No, I had not started naming everything after literary or mythological characters, you see. Anyway, I carried it everywhere. In fact, I still have Raffy tucked up on a shelf in my office. He's right there alongside my complete works of Shakespeare and my teachers' editions.
One day, I want to see giraffes in their native habitat. I've seen them in zoos, but that always just makes me sad. I don't, as a general rule, like zoos very much. I know they can be nice, and I know they can be a place where endangered animals can survive, but I can't ever escape the feeling that all the animals in them are in mourning for something lost. I'd like to see a bunch of tall giraffes, impossibly graceful for all their neck and legs, galloping across the plains someday. I think it would be a sight to feed the soul.In honor of the general joy of giraffes, here are a couple of iPhone wallpapers I found recently. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. Click them to see them large enough to see all the details at their original sources. Don't they make you smile?
Returning to Yoga
I did my first yoga practice in almost a year tonight. It was delightful. I feel loose and somehow liquid right now, lighter, as though everything is liquid and I am swimming through it with each motion. I love that feeling.
I was so fearful when I went in. The last several practices I did were literal exercises in pain. All I could think of as I started practice tonight was that horrible dull pain and burning band that were there when my knee gave out. As we did a few modified Warrior poses tonight, I waited for the pain to come, and there was not even the faintest twinge. No burn, no weakness, no catch or pause, no feeling like sandpaper. I wanted to dance and sing. It was amazing.
I did tree pose, my favorite pose on both legs tonight. My right leg was not as stable as the left, of course, but I balanced for a long time on it. I laughed out loud while I did it, thinking of all those hours I put in this summer standing on leg leaning down to touch those up-ended weights one after the other to restore my balance. It was so worth it. All the pain and sweat of the surgery and the PT that followed was worth it for tonight, for those beautiful moments of Dancing Warrior, Bound Warrior, and Tree Pose.
I don't know if I will ever work back up into my full extensions on the Warriors. I don't know if I will ever be able to get into Child's Pose and put that hard bend on my knees. It doesn't matter. I am at peace with what I can do, whatever that turns out to be. It's a wonderful blessing that I can do any of it at all.
I was so fearful when I went in. The last several practices I did were literal exercises in pain. All I could think of as I started practice tonight was that horrible dull pain and burning band that were there when my knee gave out. As we did a few modified Warrior poses tonight, I waited for the pain to come, and there was not even the faintest twinge. No burn, no weakness, no catch or pause, no feeling like sandpaper. I wanted to dance and sing. It was amazing.
I did tree pose, my favorite pose on both legs tonight. My right leg was not as stable as the left, of course, but I balanced for a long time on it. I laughed out loud while I did it, thinking of all those hours I put in this summer standing on leg leaning down to touch those up-ended weights one after the other to restore my balance. It was so worth it. All the pain and sweat of the surgery and the PT that followed was worth it for tonight, for those beautiful moments of Dancing Warrior, Bound Warrior, and Tree Pose.
I don't know if I will ever work back up into my full extensions on the Warriors. I don't know if I will ever be able to get into Child's Pose and put that hard bend on my knees. It doesn't matter. I am at peace with what I can do, whatever that turns out to be. It's a wonderful blessing that I can do any of it at all.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Gandhi Quote
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” ~Mahatma Gandhi
Saturday, January 16, 2010
iPhone
My beloved BlackBerry finally started to die. It stopped ringing when it was supposed to, and it started to need constant battery pulls. External parts began to be "wiggly," and the battery life had gotten down to nothing. It had been a constant and faithful companion, but it was done, basically.
After it failed to go off as my backup alarm yesterday morning, I had had enough. I went out to dinner with my parents last night and afterward, I went to the AT&T store to check on whether or not I could upgrade. I was ready for one, amazingly enough, and so I looked at the smartphones they had. I've been pondering this issue for awhile. Did I want to go with a new Berry or did I want to change over to one of the iPhones? I was fortunate enough to get a good salesman at the store, and he and I talked about the two models a bit. He'd used both, currently had both, and could answer some of my questions about making the switch.
For a variety of reasons, I would up with an iPhone. So far, I like it a lot. I'm still trying to get used to the size difference, mostly. I got so used to the Curve just fitting in the palm of my hand, but I love the touch interface on the iPhone. I spent most of the night last night and then again this morning tweaking it. I found a couple of websites that will let me get some nice wallpaper and I found a free utility that lets me make ringtones with a minimum of fuss.
I transferred all the goofy apps I had already found for my iPod touch over, and I found several others, including another that I love that's called Nightstand that shows an oldfashioned flip-type clock with weather, too, and a wallpaper that I can change along with an alarm clock. It cost me all of a dollar, and it fixed all the problems I had with the iPhone's look and solved my morning alarm issue prettily, too. I can keep that app running whenever I have my phone on the dock, and it makes the phone into a gorgeous clock/weather station.
So far, the only thing I can't do with the iPhone that I had with the Berry is access Google Voice. Since I wasn't using it that much anyway, it's not that great a loss to me, but I do wish Google would release a version for iPhone. I know why they're not since they just released their own phone and all, but still...
Well, it's a rainy Saturday, and I think I'm going to get a nap now. I'm tired from all that iPhone tweaking.
After it failed to go off as my backup alarm yesterday morning, I had had enough. I went out to dinner with my parents last night and afterward, I went to the AT&T store to check on whether or not I could upgrade. I was ready for one, amazingly enough, and so I looked at the smartphones they had. I've been pondering this issue for awhile. Did I want to go with a new Berry or did I want to change over to one of the iPhones? I was fortunate enough to get a good salesman at the store, and he and I talked about the two models a bit. He'd used both, currently had both, and could answer some of my questions about making the switch.
For a variety of reasons, I would up with an iPhone. So far, I like it a lot. I'm still trying to get used to the size difference, mostly. I got so used to the Curve just fitting in the palm of my hand, but I love the touch interface on the iPhone. I spent most of the night last night and then again this morning tweaking it. I found a couple of websites that will let me get some nice wallpaper and I found a free utility that lets me make ringtones with a minimum of fuss.
I transferred all the goofy apps I had already found for my iPod touch over, and I found several others, including another that I love that's called Nightstand that shows an oldfashioned flip-type clock with weather, too, and a wallpaper that I can change along with an alarm clock. It cost me all of a dollar, and it fixed all the problems I had with the iPhone's look and solved my morning alarm issue prettily, too. I can keep that app running whenever I have my phone on the dock, and it makes the phone into a gorgeous clock/weather station.
So far, the only thing I can't do with the iPhone that I had with the Berry is access Google Voice. Since I wasn't using it that much anyway, it's not that great a loss to me, but I do wish Google would release a version for iPhone. I know why they're not since they just released their own phone and all, but still...
Well, it's a rainy Saturday, and I think I'm going to get a nap now. I'm tired from all that iPhone tweaking.
A Reader
After waiting for three years, I got news Thursday afternoon that I have been chosen to be a reader for the national exam that I teach. I'm ecstatic. I get to spend a week this summer grading thousands of essays. Sounds like loads of fun, right? Okay, so maybe it's not everybody's cup of tea, but I am genuinely thrilled to have this opportunity. I've wanted to do it since I first became aware of being able to sign up.
There are so many reasons why this is going to be a good experience. First, it's going to let me get so much first-hand knowledge about exactly what the graders are looking for. There is no professional development like being trained to a rubric, like actually working with the makers of a test. I expect to come away from this with newfound insight into how to help my students improve their writing and how to improve my own performance as a teacher.
Almost as important to me is getting to meet people who love literature and writing as much as I do from all over the country. It's a LitGeek fest! They will understand what the heck I'm talking about, and while they may not be weird just like me, we'll be different strains of the same kind of weird. It will be a nice change. I'm looking forward to having a large group of people who don't get a sort of distant, bored, or frightened look in their eyes when I mention works of classical literature. I am also looking forward to being challenged by these people to increase my own base of knowledge since some of the people who always come to these readings are practically demi-gods in this field. Maybe I won't put my foot in it too often....
The last reason I'm giddy is because the place where the reading will be is only about two hours away from Bloomington. I am planning to go there after I get done with the reading. I can't believe I will actually get to see IU again. I've been thinking so much about B'town lately and wondering what's changed on the campus in the time since I've left. I will get to go to Bear's and get a chilidog. I will FINALLY get to replace my ratty IU shirts! I will go to Oliver Winery, and even though I can't drink it because of the freakin' Topamax, I will get a bottle or two of Camelot Mead and Muscat Canelli on principal. It will be incredibly good to be a stranger in that familiar land.
The only downside to this wonderful news is that I'm going to have to leave before the end of our current school year to do this. I don't want to miss graduation for this class. I like to see each batch of seniors finish and walk. However, I can't be in two places at the same time, so I hope they will be able to forgive me. I just can't turn this down. I may never get another chance if I do.
I needed this good news so much Thursday. It has helped to cheer me from my January blahs and given me something to look forward to. Now every time I feel cruddy, I can look toward the summer and the reading.
There are so many reasons why this is going to be a good experience. First, it's going to let me get so much first-hand knowledge about exactly what the graders are looking for. There is no professional development like being trained to a rubric, like actually working with the makers of a test. I expect to come away from this with newfound insight into how to help my students improve their writing and how to improve my own performance as a teacher.
Almost as important to me is getting to meet people who love literature and writing as much as I do from all over the country. It's a LitGeek fest! They will understand what the heck I'm talking about, and while they may not be weird just like me, we'll be different strains of the same kind of weird. It will be a nice change. I'm looking forward to having a large group of people who don't get a sort of distant, bored, or frightened look in their eyes when I mention works of classical literature. I am also looking forward to being challenged by these people to increase my own base of knowledge since some of the people who always come to these readings are practically demi-gods in this field. Maybe I won't put my foot in it too often....
The last reason I'm giddy is because the place where the reading will be is only about two hours away from Bloomington. I am planning to go there after I get done with the reading. I can't believe I will actually get to see IU again. I've been thinking so much about B'town lately and wondering what's changed on the campus in the time since I've left. I will get to go to Bear's and get a chilidog. I will FINALLY get to replace my ratty IU shirts! I will go to Oliver Winery, and even though I can't drink it because of the freakin' Topamax, I will get a bottle or two of Camelot Mead and Muscat Canelli on principal. It will be incredibly good to be a stranger in that familiar land.
The only downside to this wonderful news is that I'm going to have to leave before the end of our current school year to do this. I don't want to miss graduation for this class. I like to see each batch of seniors finish and walk. However, I can't be in two places at the same time, so I hope they will be able to forgive me. I just can't turn this down. I may never get another chance if I do.
I needed this good news so much Thursday. It has helped to cheer me from my January blahs and given me something to look forward to. Now every time I feel cruddy, I can look toward the summer and the reading.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
So Tuesdays Suck Now
Tuesdays have become the Day of Suck for no readily-apparent reason. It used to be Monday or (shudder) Wednesday, but now Tuesdays are always the days that get stupid "just because." Today, I wound up with a migraine by third period and had to take a Maxalt which left me stupified for most of the rest of the day. Even though it should have cycled out of my system by now, I still feel muzzy from it, and I'm still photosensitive. I'm also irritable. I don't know that the headache is doing that....
The good news is that I have the pottery class to look forward to every week now. Also, if not this week, then next, I'm going to start back with my yoga. I think that class will be on Thursdays. Maybe if the two Dias del Caca are sandwiched between Mud and Om, I can force them into wonder by sheer willpower. If not, I will find something good to do those days, too.
The good news is that I have the pottery class to look forward to every week now. Also, if not this week, then next, I'm going to start back with my yoga. I think that class will be on Thursdays. Maybe if the two Dias del Caca are sandwiched between Mud and Om, I can force them into wonder by sheer willpower. If not, I will find something good to do those days, too.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Hands in Mud
I took my first pottery class tonight. It was everything I was hoping it would be, once I actually managed to find it. The local community college offering the class is a labyrinth composed of many little buildings and many winding halls within those buildings, so it took me quite a while to find the ceramics studio. When I got there, the instructor hadn't started yet, and I was able to catch the whole class.
I watched the teacher go through the process of centering the clay and forming an object. Then, we got the chance to try it ourselves tonight if we wanted to. Since that was why I was there, I got some clay, headed to a wheel, and literally tried my hand at it. To my great amazement, and I think, the amazement of the instructor, I got the clay centered fairly quickly on my first attempt. I'm sure it was beginner's luck, but it felt so natural.
I had more trouble pulling it up. I got a cylinder built, but it's not the loveliest thing you've ever seen. For the first time I've ever done it, though, I don't think it's too bad. Maybe with some glaze on it, it won't be utterly disreputable.
This is everything I hoped it would be. I could have done it all night, just me and the wheel, pressing and shaping, forming and reforming. It's like a meditation. As I watched my hands pressing into the center of the clay, I felt my stress draining down that same center, spiraling away. I can't wait for next week. The instructor said he's going to teach me to throw bigger vessels since I have large hands and long fingers that will enable me to reach and pull them. Maybe these hands are not just organ-playing hands and wildly-gesturing-while-I'm-talking hands. Maybe they're pottery hands. I hope my beginner's luck holds.
I watched the teacher go through the process of centering the clay and forming an object. Then, we got the chance to try it ourselves tonight if we wanted to. Since that was why I was there, I got some clay, headed to a wheel, and literally tried my hand at it. To my great amazement, and I think, the amazement of the instructor, I got the clay centered fairly quickly on my first attempt. I'm sure it was beginner's luck, but it felt so natural.
I had more trouble pulling it up. I got a cylinder built, but it's not the loveliest thing you've ever seen. For the first time I've ever done it, though, I don't think it's too bad. Maybe with some glaze on it, it won't be utterly disreputable.
This is everything I hoped it would be. I could have done it all night, just me and the wheel, pressing and shaping, forming and reforming. It's like a meditation. As I watched my hands pressing into the center of the clay, I felt my stress draining down that same center, spiraling away. I can't wait for next week. The instructor said he's going to teach me to throw bigger vessels since I have large hands and long fingers that will enable me to reach and pull them. Maybe these hands are not just organ-playing hands and wildly-gesturing-while-I'm-talking hands. Maybe they're pottery hands. I hope my beginner's luck holds.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
If I Could Just Keep This in Mind...
"If you're not ready to die, you're not ready to live." ~ quoted by the pastor speaking in my church tonight.
This is the essence of life. Strip away everything else, and this is what it's all about. If you can wake up every morning and be calm and content with the idea that today might be your last, if you can lay your head down on your pillow and close your eyes with no fear at the knowledge that you might not open them again to a new day, then you are ready for anything.
Think about what you are freed from. Think about how much time we spend in fear of our tiny, fragile, finite little lives. Think about what we deny ourselves, what experiences, what joys we shy away from. If we were truly ready for the end whenever it came, if we held the peace of that readiness within ourselves, if we knew without doubt what came next, then we could step out into all the moments of wonder, terror, and magic that life places before us daily and look at them, drink them in, make them a part of ourselves.
The fear of death becomes the fear of life. We wrap ourselves in so many layers of protection trying to keep out the Grim Reaper that we insulate ourselves from everything else in the process, and we find, to borrow and adapt some words from Thoreau, when it comes time to die that we have not really lived at all. Understanding comes too late in those brief moments at the end, and those who have allowed fear to prevent life wail and clutch at the could-have-beens.
We're told that we cannot add even one minute to our lives by worry, yet we continue daily to fret and struggle, to plan and to prevent, to try to paddle against the flowing river of the inevitable. Instead, we should be paying attention to the scenery along the banks of this incredible mighty river as we go past, enjoying the ride, even the patches of whitewater, trusting that at the end of it all, all will be as it should be. This sort of perfect peace is possible. We just have to reach for it and get our pitiful little matchsticks paddles back inside the boat.
This is the essence of life. Strip away everything else, and this is what it's all about. If you can wake up every morning and be calm and content with the idea that today might be your last, if you can lay your head down on your pillow and close your eyes with no fear at the knowledge that you might not open them again to a new day, then you are ready for anything.
Think about what you are freed from. Think about how much time we spend in fear of our tiny, fragile, finite little lives. Think about what we deny ourselves, what experiences, what joys we shy away from. If we were truly ready for the end whenever it came, if we held the peace of that readiness within ourselves, if we knew without doubt what came next, then we could step out into all the moments of wonder, terror, and magic that life places before us daily and look at them, drink them in, make them a part of ourselves.
The fear of death becomes the fear of life. We wrap ourselves in so many layers of protection trying to keep out the Grim Reaper that we insulate ourselves from everything else in the process, and we find, to borrow and adapt some words from Thoreau, when it comes time to die that we have not really lived at all. Understanding comes too late in those brief moments at the end, and those who have allowed fear to prevent life wail and clutch at the could-have-beens.
We're told that we cannot add even one minute to our lives by worry, yet we continue daily to fret and struggle, to plan and to prevent, to try to paddle against the flowing river of the inevitable. Instead, we should be paying attention to the scenery along the banks of this incredible mighty river as we go past, enjoying the ride, even the patches of whitewater, trusting that at the end of it all, all will be as it should be. This sort of perfect peace is possible. We just have to reach for it and get our pitiful little matchsticks paddles back inside the boat.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Tesla
I love Tesla. He is one of the most fascinating people I've ever read about, hands down. More and more, I believe he could do most if not all of the things he said he could do. I think he would have been so deeply and wonderfully amazing to know for his sheer eccentricity, although he would undoubtedly have been horrified by the two sets of earrings I wear in each ear, and so he probably wouldn't have talked to silly old me, anyway. Science is finally starting to catch up to him only now, almost a century later.
This quote, however, worries me just a smidgen. If you know anything about his life, you may wonder as I do which camp he fell in. You may also wonder which camp he believed he fell in. Was he delivering this line straight or with some of his tongue-in-cheek irony? Oh, how I wish I could have been there to ask. Again, though, teasing Tesla isn't probably the sort of thing that is polite.
We recently passed the anniversary of his death, Jan. 7. This greatest of the inventors died penniless and alone in his hotel room. Every time I think about it, it makes me sad. That great man, the one who made so much of our modern life possible and who believed that those inventions should belong to everyone while Edison was hoarding and profiteering, passed away unnoticed and almost unmourned.
There's a museum now in his native land, and the scientific community that shunned him in his life now claims him as one of its heroes. I guess sometimes scientists are like artists and poets, not receiving their due in their lifetimes if they are too much the visionary.
Friday, January 08, 2010
The Problem With Trying to Be Somebody Else
- Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble.~ Samuel Johnson
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Longing
Today, I wish I were in Kyoto. The day here is gray and cold, and a solid sort of rain has been dripping off my roof all day. On FaceBook today, Ito En, the company who bottles and imports the green tea I love so much, posted a small blurb about the annual new year tea ceremony held at one of the great temples in Kyoto, and as I stared out my winter window at the drizzle here, I wanted to be there so much it was a pain in my heart.
A friend of mine lived a year in Kyoto, went to school there. He took a map of the city, and during that time, he made it his goal to visit every temple and shrine and cross them off his map as he went. I can think of far worse ways to spend a year. I would be happy just sitting in a tea shop on the Philosopher's Path and then strolling up to Kiyomizudera every day in a leisurely and habitual meandering.
I miss Japan. I miss the gray-tiled roofs. I miss the bicycles and the smell of diesel. I miss the t-shirts with their dubious English slogans. I miss the sound of the crossing signal that was two blocks away from my little apartment. I miss mikan and proper sencha and donburi bowls and pottery everywhere and the joy of a people who incorporate the practical and the beautiful into the useful everyday.
Part of me also knows that some of what I am longing for is just otherness. That "not-here-ness" that other cultures, other parts of the world have always makes my soul happy. I love seeing the grand diversities and the things we all hold common at the heart of this little sphere we call home. In truth, I know there are ways other than going back to Japan to sate this need. I could probably satisfy part of my desire if I could just get out of this place for awhile.
And yet, as I look around my house at all the things I brought home with me, all the precious bits and pieces of that life, I want to stretch my wings and fly away to those impossibly ancient streets with nothing but a heavy coat, an empty notebook and my red pencil, a copy of Basho, and a pocket full of yen. I'm sure somewhere, there's a seat waiting for me by a sunny window or looking out at a cloudless, starry sky.
A friend of mine lived a year in Kyoto, went to school there. He took a map of the city, and during that time, he made it his goal to visit every temple and shrine and cross them off his map as he went. I can think of far worse ways to spend a year. I would be happy just sitting in a tea shop on the Philosopher's Path and then strolling up to Kiyomizudera every day in a leisurely and habitual meandering.
I miss Japan. I miss the gray-tiled roofs. I miss the bicycles and the smell of diesel. I miss the t-shirts with their dubious English slogans. I miss the sound of the crossing signal that was two blocks away from my little apartment. I miss mikan and proper sencha and donburi bowls and pottery everywhere and the joy of a people who incorporate the practical and the beautiful into the useful everyday.
Part of me also knows that some of what I am longing for is just otherness. That "not-here-ness" that other cultures, other parts of the world have always makes my soul happy. I love seeing the grand diversities and the things we all hold common at the heart of this little sphere we call home. In truth, I know there are ways other than going back to Japan to sate this need. I could probably satisfy part of my desire if I could just get out of this place for awhile.
And yet, as I look around my house at all the things I brought home with me, all the precious bits and pieces of that life, I want to stretch my wings and fly away to those impossibly ancient streets with nothing but a heavy coat, an empty notebook and my red pencil, a copy of Basho, and a pocket full of yen. I'm sure somewhere, there's a seat waiting for me by a sunny window or looking out at a cloudless, starry sky.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Good Things That Happened Today
Because sometimes it's good to commemorate the good stuff....
(Not presented in order or rank, and not intended to imply that these things are comparable in importance)
1) I finally got a case of unsweetened Japanese green tea. ItoEn OiOcha, you ROCK. I have to dole it out a bottle at a time when I want to go suck it down like oxygen, but it's there, chilling in my fridge.
2) We have a snow day tomorrow. We almost didn't. The almighty powers that be first announced that the students would have the day but not faculty and staff. I was trying to figure out how I might be able to ski in over a couple of iced-over bridges if I had to when they revised their earlier statement and magnanimously decided we could all stay home. How nice.
3) Somebody called and woke me up when my alarm failed to go off this morning. My BlackBerry is dying, and I use it as my main alarm clock. Apparently, it thought it was playing its wakeup tone to beat the band, but no sound was coming out of it. ANOTHER battery-pull moment....sigh.... The phone call kept me from one of those awkward "I-need-a-sub-'cause-I'm-dumb" moments.
4) I saw four of my wonderful former students today and got to talk to them my whole lunch period. It was so good to see them and hear how they're doing with college life. I love it when I get to talk to my students again. This bunch is extra special, perhaps because I had them for two years. They're all finding their way toward such wonderful and exciting things, and getting to sit and talk with them again was a refreshing treat.
5) I signed up for my pottery class today. Monday night, I will have my hands in clay learning to form things from earth, water, and fire. I can hardly believe that it's finally going to happen. I hope these hands have aptitude for it. Even if they don't, at least I will have the satisfaction of trying.
6) I had a perfectly ripe pear today. Bartletts are my favorite pears, and they are hard to get at that perfect moment of ripe. They go off so fast. The one I took in my lunch today was at that moment where it was still a little firm but perfectly sweet and juicy. I had it this afternoon during my planning period for a snack. It finished the day off wonderfully.
Despite a few moments of frustration, it was a very good day. I'm off to enjoy more of it. If you happened to be a part of making a very good day for me, thank you very, very much.
(Not presented in order or rank, and not intended to imply that these things are comparable in importance)
1) I finally got a case of unsweetened Japanese green tea. ItoEn OiOcha, you ROCK. I have to dole it out a bottle at a time when I want to go suck it down like oxygen, but it's there, chilling in my fridge.
2) We have a snow day tomorrow. We almost didn't. The almighty powers that be first announced that the students would have the day but not faculty and staff. I was trying to figure out how I might be able to ski in over a couple of iced-over bridges if I had to when they revised their earlier statement and magnanimously decided we could all stay home. How nice.
3) Somebody called and woke me up when my alarm failed to go off this morning. My BlackBerry is dying, and I use it as my main alarm clock. Apparently, it thought it was playing its wakeup tone to beat the band, but no sound was coming out of it. ANOTHER battery-pull moment....sigh.... The phone call kept me from one of those awkward "I-need-a-sub-'cause-I'm-dumb" moments.
4) I saw four of my wonderful former students today and got to talk to them my whole lunch period. It was so good to see them and hear how they're doing with college life. I love it when I get to talk to my students again. This bunch is extra special, perhaps because I had them for two years. They're all finding their way toward such wonderful and exciting things, and getting to sit and talk with them again was a refreshing treat.
5) I signed up for my pottery class today. Monday night, I will have my hands in clay learning to form things from earth, water, and fire. I can hardly believe that it's finally going to happen. I hope these hands have aptitude for it. Even if they don't, at least I will have the satisfaction of trying.
6) I had a perfectly ripe pear today. Bartletts are my favorite pears, and they are hard to get at that perfect moment of ripe. They go off so fast. The one I took in my lunch today was at that moment where it was still a little firm but perfectly sweet and juicy. I had it this afternoon during my planning period for a snack. It finished the day off wonderfully.
Despite a few moments of frustration, it was a very good day. I'm off to enjoy more of it. If you happened to be a part of making a very good day for me, thank you very, very much.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Shakespeare Always Says It Best
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none. -- All's Well That Ends Well -- Shakespeare
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
I never know what to think whenever a book is hyped and praised as much as this one was. Frequently, I am deeply skeptical because some things become "media darlings" because of PR campaigns or certain celebrity's endorsements (cough -- OPRAH-- cough), but this one deserved all the credit it got. I'm still digesting all the ways it was wonderful, from the inclusion of all the visual elements in it, some of which are, quite frankly difficult to look at, to the storyline itself. It gently brings many hard issues up and deals with them in ways that I think are respectful but not soft. That's so very, very hard to do, to look at things as emotionally-charged as this issue is and still be able to tell a story that pulls the reader in so compellingly.
I will reread this one, but it will probably be a little while. Even though it's not a huge tome, it didn't take me long to read it. It will, however take me quite some time to finish letting the echoes of it die down.
Friday, January 01, 2010
The Last or the First
I'm sitting in a quiet living room writing what will either be my last post of 2009 or my first post of 2010 depending on how long it takes me to type it up. The house is clean, or cleaner, anyway, and the only sounds now are the distant hum of the dryer finishing up a load of towels and the purr of the cooling fan for the CPU on the two laptops I have running, one I'm using and one I'm updating. It's peaceful.
As is usual for me, I have all my candles in the living room lit to meet the new year with light. I am trying to bring my thoughts together to focus on what I want for the new year, as close to making new year's resolutions as I ever bring myself. This year, however, things are more shrouded in mist and mystery than in previous years. What do I want 2010 to be? Well, perhaps it would be good to think of different areas of my life and approach it from that method. So...
Home -- In the area of home this year, I'd like to spend more time in mine. I want to come home earlier so it doesn't seem that I live in my classroom. I'd like to see my family more, do more with them. This is going to mean putting forth some serious effort on my part to prepare meals, etc., but it will be worth it. I don't get to see everyone that often, and I miss them.
Friends -- I want to do more with my friends, too. I don't know that saying that I will see them on a regular basis is a realistic thing. Our lives are so complicated now and in many cases we are now so far from each other than it is simply not possible to do things together on the spur of the moment. I do know that I want to try to make sure that I see them more than I have done this year. The past two years have been bad ones for that, and I know that a great deal of the reason for that lies with me.
Job -- I don't know what to write here. I am most confused about this area. I guess I want clarity and stability here, even if that stability paradoxically comes from complete change.
Creativity -- I want the the wellspring of my creative soul to be cleaned out and to flow again. I think about the artesian well that sits on our property. From time to time, it silts in and has to be dug out. Right now, stress, lack of time, and every other conceivable thing are silting up my creative output in every area: writing, crafting, even dreaming it seems. Somehow this year, I want to enable that clear cold water to bubble up and give life back to my life again.
Love -- (and as I just saw the clock change, Happy New Year to You) -- I find myself with no wishes and no plans here. How odd. I've been told for years now that when the right one is ready, he'll come along. Perhaps that's true. If so, then nothing I do will hurry that moment. It may also be true that there is no "right one" hovering in the wings for me. That thought doesn't scare me like it used to, to be honest.
The silence has been broken by my neighbor's random firecrackers. The new year and new decade are officially here. It will be interesting to look back in a year to see if any of these things have made a difference.
As is usual for me, I have all my candles in the living room lit to meet the new year with light. I am trying to bring my thoughts together to focus on what I want for the new year, as close to making new year's resolutions as I ever bring myself. This year, however, things are more shrouded in mist and mystery than in previous years. What do I want 2010 to be? Well, perhaps it would be good to think of different areas of my life and approach it from that method. So...
Home -- In the area of home this year, I'd like to spend more time in mine. I want to come home earlier so it doesn't seem that I live in my classroom. I'd like to see my family more, do more with them. This is going to mean putting forth some serious effort on my part to prepare meals, etc., but it will be worth it. I don't get to see everyone that often, and I miss them.
Friends -- I want to do more with my friends, too. I don't know that saying that I will see them on a regular basis is a realistic thing. Our lives are so complicated now and in many cases we are now so far from each other than it is simply not possible to do things together on the spur of the moment. I do know that I want to try to make sure that I see them more than I have done this year. The past two years have been bad ones for that, and I know that a great deal of the reason for that lies with me.
Job -- I don't know what to write here. I am most confused about this area. I guess I want clarity and stability here, even if that stability paradoxically comes from complete change.
Creativity -- I want the the wellspring of my creative soul to be cleaned out and to flow again. I think about the artesian well that sits on our property. From time to time, it silts in and has to be dug out. Right now, stress, lack of time, and every other conceivable thing are silting up my creative output in every area: writing, crafting, even dreaming it seems. Somehow this year, I want to enable that clear cold water to bubble up and give life back to my life again.
Love -- (and as I just saw the clock change, Happy New Year to You) -- I find myself with no wishes and no plans here. How odd. I've been told for years now that when the right one is ready, he'll come along. Perhaps that's true. If so, then nothing I do will hurry that moment. It may also be true that there is no "right one" hovering in the wings for me. That thought doesn't scare me like it used to, to be honest.
The silence has been broken by my neighbor's random firecrackers. The new year and new decade are officially here. It will be interesting to look back in a year to see if any of these things have made a difference.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Getting Ready for 2010
I'm using the big laptop to blog this tonight, and I've forgotten what it's like to do stuff on a screen other than my little netbook. It's sort of odd to be able to see everything so large...
Anyway, I'm trying to finish up the cleaning and preparations for the new year. I got the tree down and out, packed away my Santas and nativities, and the only things that are left are to vacuum (that most hated of chores) and to run a couple of loads of laundry. I want to meet the new year with everything tidy.
It's hard to believe that this will be 2010. It seems only yesterday that everyone was freaking out over Y2K and the potential end of everything. It is, indeed, unreal that ten years could possibly have passed this fast. What have I been doing? Is it a good sign that it has gone in such a rush or not?
In this past ten years, I have been in Bloomington and Toyohashi, I've been abroad and home. I've been in Japan, Ireland, England, Wales, and Thailand. I've been through some very frightening medical situations and two major surgeries. I've taught at three different schools. I've bought a car, acquired a mortgage, and started retirement savings and life insurance accruing. It's been a busy ten years.
I can't imagine what the next ten years will bring. I could never have dreamed all the things, good and bad, that were the fruit of the last ten.
Anyway, I'm trying to finish up the cleaning and preparations for the new year. I got the tree down and out, packed away my Santas and nativities, and the only things that are left are to vacuum (that most hated of chores) and to run a couple of loads of laundry. I want to meet the new year with everything tidy.
It's hard to believe that this will be 2010. It seems only yesterday that everyone was freaking out over Y2K and the potential end of everything. It is, indeed, unreal that ten years could possibly have passed this fast. What have I been doing? Is it a good sign that it has gone in such a rush or not?
In this past ten years, I have been in Bloomington and Toyohashi, I've been abroad and home. I've been in Japan, Ireland, England, Wales, and Thailand. I've been through some very frightening medical situations and two major surgeries. I've taught at three different schools. I've bought a car, acquired a mortgage, and started retirement savings and life insurance accruing. It's been a busy ten years.
I can't imagine what the next ten years will bring. I could never have dreamed all the things, good and bad, that were the fruit of the last ten.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Sound of Madness
This song has been stuck in my head for three days now. It is just on the verge of literally becoming the sound of madness for me. The very first time I heard the lyrics on the rock station I tune in early in the morning from a far-away college town with a real rock radio, I liked it. The reminder that the "darkest hour doesn't come in the night" and "when are you gonna wake up and fight...for yourself" are powerful indictments of self-pity. Since I frequently sympathize with the guy wailing, "I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain," and get tired of people using their individual crap-situations as a reason not to do things, not to push forward, not to try, I guess that might be part of the draw of this song for me.
Girls' Day Out
I got to go out to lunch with one of my oldest and best friends. Our mutual lives and schedules keep up from seeing each other except in passing, so it was wonderful to have a day to go and do. We went to a Japanese restaurant in town I hadn't been to before, and the food was wonderful. They actually have some of my favorites on their menu, and I got to have tonkatsu and green tea ice cream today. I didn't do the whole sushi thing today, but their sushi looked good, too. I have a feeling I'll be spending more time there in the future, for the green tea ice cream, if nothing else. I could have made a meal of it. I get absolute cravings for it....
My friend and I wandered around T.J. Maxx (one of the world's most dangerous stores) and then came on home. More than anything, we caught up and talked. I have missed so much just being able to spend time with her, hear her point of view on things, hear what's going on in her world. It's not that we live that far away from each other, even; it's just that things have gotten so incredibly complex that finding the time to get away and do something has gotten almost impossible.
I hope she and I will have time to do this more often. Even if we don't go have a fancy girls' day out, we need to see each other more than we do. I hope I can find a way to make it happen.
My friend and I wandered around T.J. Maxx (one of the world's most dangerous stores) and then came on home. More than anything, we caught up and talked. I have missed so much just being able to spend time with her, hear her point of view on things, hear what's going on in her world. It's not that we live that far away from each other, even; it's just that things have gotten so incredibly complex that finding the time to get away and do something has gotten almost impossible.
I hope she and I will have time to do this more often. Even if we don't go have a fancy girls' day out, we need to see each other more than we do. I hope I can find a way to make it happen.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The Ghost of Christmas Past
When my parents came for Christmas brunch, I wasn't really in the mood. The house wasn't clean like I wanted it to be. I've been so dizzy over the past week that getting up and getting things cleaned hasn't been easy or felt very good. I'd slept late, so I was late getting the food prepared, and I hadn't gotten my tablecloths laid or any of my decorative stuff on the table, either.
I got everything together, though, and it was okay. We had a good meal, and it came time for presents to be given and opened. When I picked up the first little gift bag and reached down inside, I pulled out an object that was immediately familiar but that I had never expected to see again: Penguey.
As a very small child, I had a whole set of floating toys, a penguin, a whale, and a seal, that I played with during the summers in those brightly-colored plastic pools they still sell at Wal-Mart, and in the bathtub during the rest of the year. I haven't thought about them in years. I guess I had just assumed they had been long-lost along with all the other things of childhood. Imagine my surprise to look down as see Penguey smiling blithely up at me from the red and green Christmas tissue paper!
Mom had found him when she'd been out in the yard working recently. He'd popped up from under some leaves, explaining his rather dark and tatty condition. He's been scrubbed with everything we can find, but the white of his belly will probably never be white again. He is still soft, though, and his blue color and yellow beak are still visible, incredibly. Not bad for something very nearly as old as I am that's spent almost all its life in Mississippi's harsh climate.
I got several wonderful things this Christmas that I really love. I was blessed with presents that I asked for and things that were useful, beautiful, and adult-oriented. However, probably the thing I will remember the most about this Christmas is actually the unexpected return of this tiny visitor from my past. I smile every time I look at him.
I got everything together, though, and it was okay. We had a good meal, and it came time for presents to be given and opened. When I picked up the first little gift bag and reached down inside, I pulled out an object that was immediately familiar but that I had never expected to see again: Penguey.
As a very small child, I had a whole set of floating toys, a penguin, a whale, and a seal, that I played with during the summers in those brightly-colored plastic pools they still sell at Wal-Mart, and in the bathtub during the rest of the year. I haven't thought about them in years. I guess I had just assumed they had been long-lost along with all the other things of childhood. Imagine my surprise to look down as see Penguey smiling blithely up at me from the red and green Christmas tissue paper! Mom had found him when she'd been out in the yard working recently. He'd popped up from under some leaves, explaining his rather dark and tatty condition. He's been scrubbed with everything we can find, but the white of his belly will probably never be white again. He is still soft, though, and his blue color and yellow beak are still visible, incredibly. Not bad for something very nearly as old as I am that's spent almost all its life in Mississippi's harsh climate.
I got several wonderful things this Christmas that I really love. I was blessed with presents that I asked for and things that were useful, beautiful, and adult-oriented. However, probably the thing I will remember the most about this Christmas is actually the unexpected return of this tiny visitor from my past. I smile every time I look at him.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Push
It's not an easy read in the sense that it's light-hearted and fluffy. The subject matter is, quite frankly, heartbreaking. However, I am going to put this on my list of books people should read because of how that harsh reality and brutal content is dealt with. The main character, Precious, comes from a background that makes most people's ideas of hell look like pastel paintings edged with tatted lace. And Sapphire does not let you forget for a moment that her character is immersed in a reality that is horrifying on a daily basis.
The beautiful part of the book, though, is that the brutality of that reality does not crush Precious. There are times when it very nearly does, and I think that was nicely done, too, very realistic. God knows there are situations that nobody is strong enough to endure alone, pressure points too great for even the strongest of souls to stand up under, and this character experiences some of those. Ultimately, though, she transcends in spite of it all. That is why I like this book.
I know it has been compared to The Color Purple. If it hasn't, it will be. It does, in fact, compare itself to that work. In Precious, I see literary echoes of Celie, of the abused survivor who finds her own voice and her own life. I think maybe she might be a Celie in the present, despite the novel being set some twenty-five years ago. Her environment and her conflicts, some of them, anyway, are things Celie in her time and place did not have to face.
This is a novel that will stick with me. I can't say that it is going to be entirely a pleasant companion, but I think it is important that I have read it. I can also say that at the end of the work, I was proud and hopeful. It's not often I can say all of that about something I've read, really, so I am rather glad I grabbed Push yesterday. It was a whim that paid off.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Kokeshi doll Vulcan inspired custom by temple7e on Etsy
Um, anyway, here is another interesting interpretation of one of my favorite imaginary men. In fact, if you are a fan of kokeshi, this maker has several interesting variations. Kokeshi were one thing I never started collecting while I was in Japan, I guess because I'm not much on dolls to start with, but I do appreciate the variations and the history. Enjoy!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
New Look, Again
I get bored with the way backgrounds look pretty quickly. I change out my computer wallpaper and screensavers at least seasonally, frequently more often than that. I guess it's only natural, then, that I get tired of my blog's look, too, and redecorate here. The dots got old fast. Also, I wanted something fast-loading that won't (you should pardon the phrase) suck when I look at it on my iPod and BlackBerry. Hence, this new, exceedingly minimalist edition of the blog. I think it will make me happier, at least in the meantime. If you personally don't care for it, remember that it is like the weather. Wait, and sooner or later, it will change....
Vintage Holiday Imagery
I'm cruising around looking for vintage holiday imagery online since my head is too fuzzy to let me do what I need to do right now, which is get up and clean my house intensively. I am searching for New Year stuff since I have plenty for Christmas. I found this postcard, and it intrigued me. Look at the symbolism.
Its obvious appeal to me is the dancing fool bit, of course, but it also drew me in with the absolute menace of the Time figure. He's much more like the angel of death than usual. Notice the way he's leaning on Earth and encompassing it with his sickle. Yet, his face is gentle, almost compassionate, loving. I would love to know what year this one came out.
The message might still stick, though. We might do well to remember that Time is still leaning over us maybe more than ever. I say this not because we should "eat, drink, and be merry" but because we should be conscious every day that we need to rightly count them and appreciate them because we don't know how many of them we have. To go back to my precious Transcendentalists, we need to be seizing whatever days are put in front of us. Sooner or later, Time will have to stop leaning and raise that sickle, no matter how amused by our capering he may be.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
New-to-Me Thoreau Quote
The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. ~ H. D. Thoreau
This made me stop and think hard, as Thoreau always does. Crap. There are some things in my life that I am paying far too high a price for right now.....
This made me stop and think hard, as Thoreau always does. Crap. There are some things in my life that I am paying far too high a price for right now.....
Hello, Hello
Hello, hello (¡Hola!)
I'm at a place called Vertigo (¿Dónde está?)
It's everything I wish I didn't know
~ from "Vertigo" by U2
The world continues to spin at inopportune moments. Yesterday was a good day, and I thought this was done. I drove to school, I took my classes on tours of the new ninth-grade building, a trip that involved many trips up and down stairs, and I only felt dizzy a couple of times. I even went to a holiday party last night, and I did okay there, too. I guess I'm making up for it today in abundance, though, because I can't seem even to look across the room without the room tilting and spinning.
I'm trying to keep a sense of humor about it, though. It's a little like being on a roller coaster, only I didn't have to go stand in a big stupid line. There is always that. I have my own personal theme park with all the danger rides I could want in my head. All I have to do to "take a ride" is sort of tilt my head or stand up.... Whoo-hoo!
Really. This needs to quit. I need it to stop. I don't want to be a disabled person, and that's the way this is heading. I need to be going to the grocery store right now, and I can't. I don't want other people to have to cart me around or do for me. Therefore, the amusement part needs to shut down for the season. I have other things to attend to at this time.
We'll see how far logic and firm determination get me with this.... I'm going to take an Anti-Vert.
I'm at a place called Vertigo (¿Dónde está?)
It's everything I wish I didn't know
~ from "Vertigo" by U2
The world continues to spin at inopportune moments. Yesterday was a good day, and I thought this was done. I drove to school, I took my classes on tours of the new ninth-grade building, a trip that involved many trips up and down stairs, and I only felt dizzy a couple of times. I even went to a holiday party last night, and I did okay there, too. I guess I'm making up for it today in abundance, though, because I can't seem even to look across the room without the room tilting and spinning.
I'm trying to keep a sense of humor about it, though. It's a little like being on a roller coaster, only I didn't have to go stand in a big stupid line. There is always that. I have my own personal theme park with all the danger rides I could want in my head. All I have to do to "take a ride" is sort of tilt my head or stand up.... Whoo-hoo!
Really. This needs to quit. I need it to stop. I don't want to be a disabled person, and that's the way this is heading. I need to be going to the grocery store right now, and I can't. I don't want other people to have to cart me around or do for me. Therefore, the amusement part needs to shut down for the season. I have other things to attend to at this time.
We'll see how far logic and firm determination get me with this.... I'm going to take an Anti-Vert.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
You Spin Me Right Round, Baby
The past two mornings I've awakened with horrible vertigo. In fact, in the shower this morning it was so bad I thought I was going to pass out. Today it has gotten progressively worse throughout the day until finally, this afternoon, I wound up having to teach my last class from a chair.
I had the last check on my knee today, and I decided that after it was done I would go across the street to see my GP about the dizziness. I assumed it was attributable to an inner ear infection. That would be simple to clear up, something requiring only a shot, maybe, a round of antibiotics. I guess I should have thought about my medical history a little longer first.
They took my temperature, measured my blood pressure, and checked all the other usual vitals. All fine. They looked in my ears, my nose, my throat. Nada. They drew blood and ran a quick analysis. Nothing. There is no reason for the room to be doing this hellish square dance every so often.
The possible causes are not fun. Stress, a new form of migraine, Meniere's Disease, and simple repetitive baseless vertigo were all mentioned. Well....YAY! I mean sign me up for some and/or all of that right now, please. 'Cause I don't have enough specialty medicine issues in my life.
I am to give it about two weeks, and if it's still going on, then I'm to go back so they can refer me to a specialist. I am so hoping they don't have to do that. I don't think I can stand another ride on this particular merry-go-round. It would be so nice if this was something that just went away on its own and could be chalked up to weirdness.
I have some anti-vert here on the table, and in a few minutes, I'm going to take half of one and sleep. I'm tired. Really, really tired. I wish I could just be normal. It would be such a nice change.
I had the last check on my knee today, and I decided that after it was done I would go across the street to see my GP about the dizziness. I assumed it was attributable to an inner ear infection. That would be simple to clear up, something requiring only a shot, maybe, a round of antibiotics. I guess I should have thought about my medical history a little longer first.
They took my temperature, measured my blood pressure, and checked all the other usual vitals. All fine. They looked in my ears, my nose, my throat. Nada. They drew blood and ran a quick analysis. Nothing. There is no reason for the room to be doing this hellish square dance every so often.
The possible causes are not fun. Stress, a new form of migraine, Meniere's Disease, and simple repetitive baseless vertigo were all mentioned. Well....YAY! I mean sign me up for some and/or all of that right now, please. 'Cause I don't have enough specialty medicine issues in my life.
I am to give it about two weeks, and if it's still going on, then I'm to go back so they can refer me to a specialist. I am so hoping they don't have to do that. I don't think I can stand another ride on this particular merry-go-round. It would be so nice if this was something that just went away on its own and could be chalked up to weirdness.
I have some anti-vert here on the table, and in a few minutes, I'm going to take half of one and sleep. I'm tired. Really, really tired. I wish I could just be normal. It would be such a nice change.
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