just in case you were wondering

Hardy, AR

2011-09-25T19:49:00.001-05:00

Disconnect

2011-09-25T09:33:00.002-05:00

Maybe we should all disconnect to this level. Go back to something like a house phone that can be carried anywhere in the world. Could this phone be the most lo-tech device being made right now?

Everyone needs a phone, but do we need to carry around miniature computers/cameras?

actions

2011-09-23T10:52:00.003-05:00

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Your actions speak so loudly that I cannot hear what you are saying."

My initial response to this snippet is to think of all the times that someone in my life has not followed their words with actions. This could be anyone, and I am not thinking of one specific person, even so the thought persists. Blame, blame, blame. Yet that lowers me, especially I assume, in Emerson's eyes.

My internal dialogue should be one of asking myself if my actions are yelling so loudly about something else that the things I posit to be true are being doubted or overshadowed completely. Are my words true?

I certainly try. I certainly fail. Sometimes, occasionally, I live up to something worthwhile. Hopefully one day, I'll listen more. Maybe tomorrow.

Light

2011-09-21T11:50:00.002-05:00

On reading Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

2011-09-20T11:47:00.002-05:00

Reading Annie Dillard has left me feeling as though I need to look more closely, to see nature appear and reappear, to feel the present moment, to see if evil is lurking near; is that really evil?

How can I make the time to catch more than a simple glimpse of things and see them from a different perspective in my hurried day to day life?

Those are the thoughts of the day, week, lifetime...

#3

2011-09-18T10:44:00.005-05:00

On Friday my daughter turned three years old. It was a beautiful day, not nearly so hot as the day she was born, and we woke her with singing and birthday cake. As I brought her down the stairs, she rubbed her sleepy eyes, and didn't get too excited. I asked, "Nora, is this a good way to wake up?" She answered, "I don't know if you should have woke me up for this..." My mom said that this won't be the first time I would like her to get more excited about something than she will. I did the classic "look-straight-ahead and do not smile at all" on any ride, be it at a county fair or outside of Wal-Mart when I was a tot.

Nora seems to have grown up more in the last few months than I've realized. I have to almost study the past to clearly see all the changes. She dresses herself these days and spits out toothpaste. Those are so minute, but from my perspective so important. She has complained about her friends at daycare not always playing with her, and I know that she has some of my qualities to overcome. I can never really decide if I'm a loner at heart or not. I know I desperately miss time to myself when I don't get it.

There are so many changes to log away, and I hope I find the time to do it all. Nora is always telling me that when she gets big and I get little, she'll let me buckle the top part of the car seat or buy me ice-cream cones. She says I can pick out my own clothes and that she'll sometimes take a bath with me. I love the logic. If she is getting bigger, then at some point I must have to get smaller.

I can't believe it!

2011-08-17T11:46:00.000-05:00

drugs

2011-07-26T11:34:00.004-05:00

There has been a lot of talk about being drug tested to receive government assistance since Florida is now doing drug testing. Many people think that this should be done in every state.

I disagree. I feel like a random home inspection once a year would take care of the problem, as was suggested by a friend. I can see some of the pros to drug testing, but I think that the better solution would be to inspect homes, because then more truth comes to light. Most people can prep for a drug test and pass it regardless, which happens quite often in other circumstances.

What really bothers me about this whole thing is one argument for drug testing in particular. The "I have to get tested for work, so you should have to get tested to not work" line really gets me.

It is a privilege to work. Employers' have the right to expect certain things out of their employees or potential employees. The assistance that is given to citizens by their government should be there regardless.

Wings

2011-07-26T11:28:00.002-05:00

Converation with the girl:

Nora: I can swim by myself. I can swim by myself. I have water wings.
Me: That's pretty cool, Nora. Water wings are pretty awesome.
Nora: Yeah.... But, I can't fly now.

Just making sure you all knew that water wings do not give you the ability to fly.

This post was due Friday, and now I am playing catch-up.

2011-07-26T11:25:00.002-05:00

Via

Counting the Beats - Robert Graves

2011-07-21T09:37:00.002-05:00

You, love, and I,
(He whispers) you and I,
And if no more than only you and I
What care you or I ?

Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Cloudless day,
Night, and a cloudless day,
Yet the huge storm will burst upon their heads one day
From a bitter sky.

Where shall we be,
(She whispers) where shall we be,
When death strikes home, O where then shall we be
Who were you and I ?

Not there but here,
(He whispers) only here,
As we are, here, together, now and here,
Always you and I.

Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

The first time I read this poem, I immediately noticed two lovers one close to death. Then I looked at the poem as an image in and of itself, and I noticed that it looks like the lines of a heart monitor, the beating of a heart displayed through words. For me, nothing could be more lovely.

Then I thought about death, about the verb "die." The Oxford English Dictionary says that to die does not only mean physical death, but that it also means "to experience a sexual orgasm. (Most common as a poetical metaphor in the late 16th and 17th cent.)" If this does depict an orgasm, then the climax must happen during the volta (turn), when the narrator states, "Yet the huge storm will burst upon their heads one day" (l. 11). And the idea of such uncertainty occurring at that moment is quite intriguing, from a poetical standpoint.

There is a sort of vague hopelessness inherent in this very intimate scene. The narrator knows that the future will not be good, that like all relationships things must eventually end, for one reason or another. Even though the woman has questions, she is resolved to let them lie, wakeful but silent, as she and her lover lie in the last line of the poem.

Is this piece about the death of a relationship or the death of an individual in the near future? Have they just made love? Is someone being less than honest? Those are all things for the reader to interpret.

2011-07-20T11:27:00.001-05:00

No more cartwheels in a white jumpsuit on the beach. Now ladies can safely hide in bamboo and watch as two men battle over her vag, and it is all because of Summer's Eve. Ladies, take your hoo-ha back to the old days with Summer's Eve! (Note: Women have now been reduced to one part of the body through this ad. That's a problem for me.)

Ways to Prevent Sexual Assault - In a handy poster format

2011-07-20T09:23:00.002-05:00

Via

Motherhood

2011-07-14T22:45:00.002-05:00

It’s those sticky fingers
reaching upwards,
glazed with supper’s residue,
holding a bite
of something
resembling a strawberry.
As I open my mouth to say,
“No, you eat it”
her tiny hand rushes
into my mouth,
leaving me chewing
that pink blob and saying,
“Mmm, perfect.”

-Lauren Adams

Attacks

2011-04-28T11:29:00.004-05:00

The assault on Planned Parenthood continues. In Indiana they have voted to cut all funding from the program. This measure also makes it illegal for a woman to have an abortion after 20 weeks, unless she is going to die, basically.

How is it that states can vote 66-32 against an organization that does so much good?

Growing up in a very conservative and fundamentalist Christian household left me ridiculing women who chose to have abortions for a large part of my life. Then I woke up to realize that my body is sacred and mine alone. I should be able to choose what happens to my body. That type of thinking only leads to the obvious decision to stand for other women's right to their own fucking bodies.

Why are we fighting for this now? Does this seem completely obvious and ridiculous to anyone except me? I mean, how can you trust me with a child if you can't trust me with my own body?

Yet all of that seems to be beside the point. State governments are still attacking Planned Parenthood. I stand with Planned Parenthood. If you stand with them, then be sure to call or email your Representatives and Senators. The Arkansas Representatives can be reached here. The Arkansas Senate members can be reached here.

Just remember that even if you are against abortion, you probably aren't against preventative care, which makes up 97% of Planned Parenthood's services. These services go to women, men, and teens who cannot get this treatment anywhere else. Planned Parenthood offers so much more than abortion. Know the facts. If you are making an uninformed vote or are misinformed about an issue then you are hurting more than just yourself.

journey

2011-04-18T09:57:00.003-05:00

In Live for a Living Buddy Wakefield writes in the passage titled "Wrest" some thing that I think may be one root of the problem we seem to be facing today. He says, "For my first 23 years, I was scared into believing in a God who would eventually and literally burn forever anyone who did not strictly adhere to His laws as written by man in a book using language that has long since been subtly mutilated."

This text that so many people are basing their lives on is one fraught with fear and reward. I remember getting "saved" when I was five years old. I couldn't sleep late one Sunday night. I was frightened of dying in my sleep, and if I died, then God (this mighty and worshiped being) would send me, an innocent child, to the pits of hell to burn with other sinners forever. Of course, as I became older I rationalized that God wouldn't do such a thing to a small child, but this is the same book that says if a person strikes his mother or father he shall be put to death (Exodus 21:15).

Later as I contemplated the realities of the Bible, as I studied other thought and theories, when I finally took some looks into evolution on my own, I found that things were not making sense. I spent two years trying to rid myself of the fear of giving up my "belief" in God, a belief that hadn't truly been there in some time. Now I have overcome the guilt of natural and healthy human desires. I realize that I do not need a reward to be kind to others, and I find that I am far more compassionate towards others.

There is this control exercised in the Bible, given to men or parents or God, that has pervaded the thoughts of western civilization. Now many feel as though the are in control of other living things, that the Earth and her creatures are human's possessions to rule. When will the vast population realize that the Earth and her creatures can all survive easily without humans, yet we cannot survive without her and her creatures.

All of these thoughts lead me to want to work towards change. I find myself pondering what I can do between work, motherhood, and just trying to make it. I can work to better myself. I can recycle and compost. I can talk to others about the things that I know that they may not know. Maybe I can convince one person to buy less during the next year. Maybe I can explain to one woman that women's beauty products cost more than men's products of the same nature.

I have realized that feminist doesn't cut it. Humanist. That's a difficult title.

This is an issue.

2011-04-14T10:13:00.008-05:00

Via

more more more

2011-02-13T09:27:00.006-06:00

I see the construction and the more, more, more, and I am weakened. Why can people not live simply? There are electric choppers and audio books and MEDIA. Why can't we write and think and read? It seems that people continue to let someone else do more for them. Clean my house. Cut my hair. Create my art. Tell me my opinion.

There is a tribe in some far flung country that escapes me now, and others are trying to get the rights to cut down the trees. This culture has survived with its pristine ways for centuries, but because they do not use running water, others think they can just take that away. What gods do they believe in? They can die from the common cold. There is little sickness. They have mud homes and gather food, garden...

There is a part of me that longs for such a life, to be free of all these walls.

I want to eat with my dirty hands, see women deliver child after child, learn to truly garden and be content with what surrounds me. These people do not leave a small radius of the earth, and they do not want to do so. A plane flew over with long-range lenses to give the world a glimpse of what might soon be destroyed. The people there looked up in astonishment, never having seen such a contraption so closely. Did they cough from the fumes?

I wonder if I could ever live in that manner? Now that I know of everything else, of the world, is it possible for me to give it up? Could I give up my bed? Maybe. Could I give up running water and hair cuts? Maybe. Could I give up my books and my longing to see the world, to be a citizen of the world? I doubt it.

There are so many people whom I wish to educate, but not them. I want them to stay where they are doing the same rituals that they've done for thousands of years. They are good. They are educated. They know so many things that no one can even imagine, not me and not you. They understand the language of the animals and the trees. That is brilliance.

what's your story?

2011-02-09T09:19:00.002-06:00

Reactions.
This post is based on a blog post written by the Organic Sister called the “It’s Not You, It’s Me (Except When It’s You)” .

When I read the above mentioned post I realized a few things about myself. The Organic Sister is good at making me do that.

I’ve been trying to be a more authentic person, to be true to myself, to allow myself to be honest with everyone. This has been a difficult journey, because many of my opinions and perceptions are vastly different from the ones that were taught to me as a child.

I’ve been frustrated lately because I felt the people who have been closest to me my whole life didn’t show me all that I could do as I became older. Now I am beginning to understand that they showed me what was best in their minds and hearts. I shouldn’t hold a grudge towards the people who have helped me become who I am now. They did the best they could, and now it is my turn to do my best, and for me, the best does not include unnecessary bitterness or anger.

I’ve written before that I felt like the choices presented to me were to marry (young), own a house, have babies, teach public school, and stay close to home. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was a small girl, and now all of that seems… confining. I no longer wish for a wedding of any kind, and I wonder if it would have ever been on my mind if it hadn’t been put there by my family and society at large.
Now I see families telling their children the same things, and I feel like these children are being limited. I want to step in and tell the kids that there are other choices. But if I do that, then I am giving their parents and them the burden of my story and my reality, which isn’t their own. It is my responsibility to do my best now that I am an adult and raise my own child to know about all the opportunities and discoveries that await her.

Similarly, I have gotten angry and frustrated when I hear women say the sexist things that keep women in the societal spots in which we seem stuck.
A few months ago, I became obviously annoyed when I girl spoke highly of her experiences of strip clubs. There are a couple of issues there, like the objectification of women and the way that sex workers in general are treated like shit. But instead of calmly thinking about what I would say and making an actual point, I became bitchy. I didn’t do any good, I simply showed others a side of myself that I don’t like. I was later told how I’d acted, and that too made me angry, but now I see that I was acting immaturely and from an inorganic place.

Now I need to learn to own my reactions and my stories and my past so that when I interact with others, they see the best parts of me, so that I am giving myself and those I love the best parts of me. I need to realize that my stuff isn’t the reality for everyone else and allow them to have their reality. I can share my stories and thoughts with others in ways that will make a difference, and if I am doing it from an authentic and loving place, then I am doing my best. It isn’t my job to make others speak and act from the same sort of place as me, but it is my job to come from that place myself.

Now come the challenges.

Revolutionary

2011-02-08T12:34:00.007-06:00

Alta published this untitled poem through Shameless Hussy Press. It satirizes middle-class feminists who could not begin to grasp the realities of her life as a single-mother caring for her two children.

Poem

that chick is so REVOLUTIONARY
she dresses poor on purpose.
She eschews the boozhwa comforts like
washing machines, males lovers, &
flush toilets. I mean she is
EVERY KIND of revolutionary!
She’d bum off her friends before she’d work
in a counter-revolutionary government job!
(How come she can afford to be so revolutionary?)
I mean, this chick is SO REVOLUTIONARY,
she laughs at housewives, agrees that
we’re an inferior breed.
She would never have had a kid if she could have
an abortion instead? Get it? This chick is
SELF-FULFILLED!
super chick ta daa!
Even her period glows in the dark.

Ruth Rosen writes in The World Split Open about how feminists appear humorless. She points out that, “Fighting for institutional and cultural change required determination; excavating sexual crimes called for convincing debate; ignoring gratuitous insults required the patience of a saint. Rape and domestic violence weren’t funny, nor was sexual harassment. Male jokes about feminist goals only deepened activists’ anger.”

Today we are sadly far from solving the problems of rape and domestic abuse. There is still anger to be felt at every turn. It would seem that the hurtles of defining rape would have long been behind us, but instead we are now not only hearing “new” discussions about what is considered to be rape, but also looking at a provision to be passed that would give doctors the right to turn away a pregnant woman needing an emergency abortion to save her life, and the doctor has the ability to allow a woman to die because he does not want to give her an abortion.

Still even in the midst of such mind-boggling things, humor can be found. Feminists are seen with a sense of humor more than ever in the present, but tell a man that you’re reading a history of the women’s movement or anything that may slightly ring of the f-word, and you’ll be met with a sad smile and shake of the head. Even reading a book can be revolutionary!

It is moments like this that still occur in everyday life that bring my anger to a boil. This has happened more than once, and I work on a college campus. I don’t forget that I’m in Arkansas (ever!), but I do realize that I am on a campus.

These is no class devoted to Women’s Studies or Women’s History (that I have been able to find) offered for me, an MA student in the English department. How can it be 2011 and this still exist? There isn’t even a course to read literature written by women alone, which can cover so many backgrounds and time-periods.

These are the things that make me continue to research and study, on my own. These are the things that make me realize that feminists are still needed, actively working today. These are the things, the every day occurrences that keep pushing me forward. This is my vow and my please.

Do more. Read more. Spread the word more. Use social networking to spread the cause. Find the articles that mean the most to you and comment intelligently on them. Laugh at feminist humor and share it with your friends. Encourage women artists of any and every discipline. Love yourself and be yourself.

funding abortions?

2011-02-03T09:33:00.001-06:00

Yes, but was it rape or rape rape?

the girl

2011-01-08T12:40:00.003-06:00

She's been sick. Pneumonia (so they say).

For three days my daughter has clung to me. It's such a moving experience. To feel the heat radiate from her small body, the rapidity of her heart, the inability of her lungs to keep normal time. "I not feel bad, I not go back to doctor." Precocious little thing.

She's well now. It feels grand to be the ultimate comfort object. It feels suffocating to think of my child being so ill.

She's a ballerina, trouble-making, realist once again. And she's only two.

2010-12-20T21:17:00.002-06:00

One of the best emotional experiences of my life has been to feel my young child pull me closer as she falls asleep. Often she will suddenly decide that, "Mama, I wanna lay on you." I acquiesce, of course. She pushes me over, snuggles in and sometimes, if I am lucky, whispers, "I love you."

As I lie there, I feel the weight of responsibility. It lies on my chest, wriggling a bit before settling in for a sleep I can only imagine at this point in my life. How wonderful and frightening to be THE comfort object. Sure there are toys, but in the end.. my being in Nora's vision will be what helps her drift off.

As I sit here, across the room from my mother, having just laid my daughter down, I wonder what it has been like for her. If she felt more responsibility to raise me "right" because she adopted me. Is there more stress when someone gives you their child, their flesh and blood. How does that weight feel?

Then I wonder what it is like on the other end. Did she sit up nights wishing she could have me wriggling, feeling the weight of more added responsibility to a single mother with bad taste in men and a taste for liquor? Things are different now.

It's all worked out for the best. I know I've had a few sleepless nights due to my child, and she's two. What's to come? Is it anything like either of my mothers' experiences? Likely not.

I wonder when I cannot wander.

2010-12-14T12:27:00.002-06:00

The internet bores me today. Enough news. I can't find anything good. My novel holds more of the same, and it is Tom Robbins! He's never had a boring moment. It is off to make lists and try to hold a decent thought in this skull of mine.

I told a middle-aged lady that when I saw her, I thought "She's beautiful." She looked down at her attire.

I told her, "My thought had nothing to do with what you're wearing."

She said, "Thank you. You made my day."

"Good, and Happy Holidays!"

"You too!" she replied, smiling vividly.

Now that's how we should all spread some joy. It takes so little.

2010-12-10T10:15:00.003-06:00

I'm still frightened to wake in a lonely house at night. I've lived on my own for over three years now. Why do I still lie in bed for a moment before I can get up to use the toilet in the middle of the night? Nothing is there. No one is there. That's the problem. I don't fear that someone has unexpectedly come into my house.

It's the absence.

These thoughts led me to think about my own power. I've been taught that I should be afraid, especially of men. I've been conditioned to worry that someone or everyone is out to get me. Why should I be so conceited? I'm not that important, and those who do find me to be important are not trying to hurt me.

Where is my inner strength? Did someone take it? Yes. It was me. I took my own strength and confidence, or I let it be taken from me.

I've been told multiple times that things will be better for me when I straighten out and get back into church, that I'm just messed up right now. I've also been told that when I find a husband to take care of me, I'll feel better. I'll be the first to admit that I feel more comfort when my partner or a close friend is in my house, but why does a husband solve all of my issues? Do I even have issues? (Of course, but not that type.)

I find that my irrational fears and self-doubt have been spoon-fed to me for many years from my family (who are well intentioned), the media, and society at large. Sometimes I've felt like I walked into that song by the Pixies, right into the chorus.. "Where is my mind?"

I'm finding it. I've had some wonderful support, and this process is far from over, but I'm finally on the right path.

2010-12-06T11:45:00.001-06:00

We've traversed so much in such a short amount of time. Now there are suddenly curtains, and I've hung the broom and owl above the table. There is a flower painted on wood above our bed, and curtains (real curtains) are hanging over the windows. The Christmas tree is up. It is maybe a foot tall and white. It has candy-canes on it, and Nora and I decorated it well.

How strange to break traditions. I had to walk myself into work today.

It seems that I asked my mom to come help me clean up, and now things look different. Parts of this I like, and parts.. seem fake and unreal. It is like I can change a house's comfort level by adding curtains. How silly. At least no one can see in any longer.

caps

2010-09-02T09:30:00.002-05:00

There are many times when it is unfortunate that I am a Capricorn. That stubborn streak can get on my own nerves. Yet at other moments, I am so proud to have that particular streak. Goal oriented. That helps too.

options

2010-08-20T13:32:00.002-05:00

I've recently been reading quite a lot feminist material and history. In one book, Listen Up, I believe one line has remained in my mind. It is something like this: None of the things that I am currently doing with my life were presented as options for my life when I was young.

That statement rings true for me.

Looking back the options laid out before me were to go to college (which is certainly good), get married, live close to home, have babies, and most likely teach at a local public school. (I am not trying to say that these are not viable options for some.)

The exact words of, "Lauren, this is what we expect," were never actually said aloud. What I do remember is my mom encouraging me to plan out how my wedding would look from a very early age, let's say eight. I also know that I living in another state was not presented at something I should do, especially not long term. I could travel, but I would come back. Since I had an affinity for school and English more especially, I was always pushed in the teaching direction. I even remember having discussions in my early teens with my parents and family about where I should teach and how I should go about it.

No one ever said things like, "You don't have to immediately get married." No one said, "You can live elsewhere." No one said, "Hey, check out this other religion, and let me know what you think about it after being raised as a Christian."

Now I am a legally singe woman raising my daughter. While being a parent is certainly stressful and poses many difficulties, I would not change it. I would not change that it happened when I was not married. That was certainly not an option that was presented to me; on the contrary, those that went through such things were presented as having made unfortunate decisions; ones that I should NEVER make.

I live with my boyfriend and partner. That mode of living was certainly never presented. I happen to be heterosexual. What if I had been homosexual? That was not an option.

I am no longer a Christian. Not an option.

I want to live outside of the U.S. Not an option.

How do we change this? How do we raise the next generation to be more open to other possibilities?

what more can i say?

2010-07-07T15:34:00.000-05:00

fresh

2010-06-28T14:12:00.001-05:00

Today I washed vegetables fresh from the garden. I marveled at how the colors came to life as the dirt circled down the drain. I longed to be somewhere on a small farm, apron around my waist, kneeling in the dirt, gently cutting fresh vegetables and fruit from the vine.

How astounding to feel the difference between a store bought tomato and a fresh picked one. The latter feels so much more vulnerable.

It rained this afternoon.

2010-06-21T19:40:00.000-05:00

Communication. That's what it boils down to. That's my opinion. For to truly communicate one must do so on many different levels and one must always, always be honest.

YES!

2010-05-08T15:57:00.001-05:00

Three cheers and a hip-hooray! As of today, I am officially a college graduate!

First Sex

2010-05-07T22:31:00.001-05:00

Who would guess that glory
would live on a pea plant’s
sticky mouth smeared

with golden pollen?
The monk frees
the flowers’ sexes

from the calico bonnets
and shoos the abbot’s
sweet-bottomed bees

and with tweezers snips
powder from the anthers
while the style hot with nectar

reaches up. He pushes the tip
of the camel-hair brush
in this bright dust—

and the bells of the flowers
twist to him; the knotting tendrils
strain on their brittle twigs—

and the tiny stem is painted
gently, as if it were
a thread of spun glass.

The opening yellow
bud swallows
the scientist’s bait

and it floats down
into the ovum like a
point of light in the throat

so that the whole body
is singing deep praise
of his touch and oh

yes Mendel this
moment is the best
of glory’s evidence—

one can see it even
in the white blossom’s
effusion of bliss.

-Susan B. A. Somers-Willett

2010-05-06T16:00:00.005-05:00

I like to pretend.
that my skin is thick
that all words aren't powerful
that I can concentrate on anything...

2010-04-19T18:54:00.001-05:00

Good, honest stuff --> Here.

dandelions

2010-04-18T09:55:00.003-05:00

Many people, see dandelions as pesky. I don't. They want that manicured, all green front lawn. They use RoundUp (bleh) to achieve this goal. The lawn rolls in tiny squares that never quite seem to come together, like that man made edge just has to stick around mocking the homeowners for years to come. "That's right, you can't walk on me all summer," the lawn says defiantly.

I like the dandelion. It teaches; it perseveres. I've watched them blossom. Their short cycle is inextricably lovely. They spring up protecting themselves with large jagged leaves, bloom bold and yellow, close themselves from the outside, then metamorphose into a lovely white puff. Nora and I often pick the white flowers and help the process of the dandelions along.

I can only hope my own cycles are so simple and productive. I can only hope that I protect myself and my thoughts until I am ready to spread them to others, that I can make a bold statement without trying, that the wind and sun can be integral parts of my existence.

listen

2010-04-12T17:53:00.002-05:00

Today I've been watching birds. I watched them this morning as Nora roamed the front yard. I watched them this afternoon as I ate lunch. I watched them this evening.

I was moved by their gracefulness. They seem to travel in pairs. Swallows, finch, crows, mockingbirds, they're all so lovely. The sun gleams across their feathered backs, revealing a myriad of colors. They call and sing to each other, and I wonder what they're communicating. To me, their lives seem so simple. I doubt that is true. All forms of life are complicated. I wonder what those birds are trying to communicate to me.

This afternoon a crow flew back and forth from the wires in front of my porch to my roof. I would see it's shadow on the walk as it perched above me. I could feel his presence. What can I learn from these seemingly elusive creatures?

a poem i love

2010-04-05T15:26:00.001-05:00

An Act of Seduction in the Twenty-First Century

You know as well as I
there is nothing more
than a piano between us.

So please rest your head
gently against my hip before
the moon burns a hole in my pocket.

If you close your eyes
perhaps you will see what I
did this morning at breakfast.

When I poured maple syrup
over a piece of French toast
it settled into a portrait of Christ.

Before I go any further you should
know this about me: I am
the kind of man who does not

believe in much of anything.
Now you will not be surprised
when I tell you what happened

next. I cut into it with my fork
and ate, just to feel what it is like
to chew on redemption.

-Kevin Pilkington

Via

..rant

2010-03-29T18:55:00.002-05:00

The paper looms. I've written barely two hundred words. It is due tomorrow. I get off work at 8:00 p.m. Let me clarify though, I work in a fitness center which basically puts me sitting in front of a computer, with little else to do. I've been here for five hours now. I've written two hundred damn words. I have no excuse. I take it back; I have excuses, but they aren't legitimate ones.

There is nothing challenging about this class. Which is the very reason that I should be making A+'s on every fucking test and assignment, instead I find myself zoning off during class. It is a senior/graduate level class, but it is at what I'd call a sophomore level. We skim the surface of the works; the professor simply explains what is on the surface of the poetry. We do not delve and questions which do so are not properly answered. Yet, instead of rising above, I find myself sinking.

I do research on other very unrelated topics. I find amusing blogs to scroll through. I make phone calls. I proof-read papers for other people. I write letters. I click a pen.

This is true procrastination.

Who in their right mind takes a class about 16th century literature? More to point, what religion-hating moron takes a class about that subject? It's all about religion. Are the protestants right? Are the Catholics right? Maybe they should all kill each other to figure it out. In their spare time they can sit around and write sonnets about not having sex and courtly rules. Let the fun times begin. After we read this riveting material, we come to class to hear the professor lecture to us about how much more intelligent people used to be, how amazing this shit is, even though most of it sounds exactly the same. She even reads the text verbatim at times.

I can now name the seven deadly sins. Try not to be too jealous.

secrets

2010-03-22T16:29:00.002-05:00

I've been feeling quite overwhelmed. School is increasing it's pace, and although this semester is much simpler that the subsequent ones, I fear that my natural tendency to procrastinate is only getting worse because of the lack of difficulty. The bright side of my procrastination is that I've read 2 1/2 novels, and various bits of philosophy and myths since school began. I mean, that I've read that outside of the required reading. I almost don't know what to do with myself as far as reading is concerned. It's really quite thrilling.

I've been meeting and getting to know a few new people lately. For that I am grateful. It's really amazing what you discover about yourself through conversations with others. Besides meeting new people, I've also been lucky in that I'm truly beginning to realize just what it means to love. It's really wonderful, and I feel like I am receiving privileged information. In many ways, I am. It's like I have this secret that only a handful of people have truly been privy to, and I am reveling in it.

My child has done her fair share of teaching me lately as well. I've learned how precious and fragile life truly is, and though I thought it'd be many years before I ever considered having a child, that little love child of mine, she is amazing. I can't begin to explain the intricacies of life that I've learned from being a parent. It isn't always joyful, but it is always rewarding. Here again, I know I'm privy to some secret that everyone doesn't fully hear.

porn for women

2010-03-16T13:06:00.009-05:00

When I saw the book, Porn for Women, I immediately got the humor. As I flipped through the book, my feminist insticts began to find it more and more appalling. Sure, women tend to do most of the housework, cooking, etc. But, does that mean that women are suddenly uninterested in sex!? I don't partake in watching porn, because I find it to be degrading of both sexes, but this book is completely ridiculous. I was reminded of how ridiculous it is today when I saw this:

a routine

2010-03-09T12:01:00.002-06:00

Every morning that I get to stay at home with my daughter, Nora, we do the same thing. We'll get up, slowly. Making up some sort of game lying in bed. I'll tickle her or try to get her to say "morning" one more time. It comes out more like, "maw-in" or something of the sort. She gets out of bed first. Then we stroll into the kitchen. She usually eats a banana with her cheerios. After all the preparations, we go into the living room. I have my chai tea and she has her cereal. We're still rubbing our eyes. Then we sit side by side eating out breakfast in the rocking chair. This is the same rocking chair that my mom rocked me in. I am always wishing that someone were there to take a photo. My camera has a timer, but that simply wouldn't cut it. There we'd be with our big blue eyes and messy hair, eating cheerios, mine with milk, hers dry. These are some of my favorite moments. I hope she continues to want to eat breakfast with me for years to come.

being the genius that he is..

2010-03-06T09:54:00.005-06:00

Tom Robbins has given me something to think on this morning. I decided that it would be nice of me to share it with whomever happens upon my tiny corner of the blog world. In Another Roadside Attraction he shows the reader two characters discussing science and mysticism (within a few pages around the middle of the novel). One is a mystic and one is a scientist. The scientist has little to say, but this is what the mystic points out.

"...if you find a conflict in science and mysticism, may I suggest that you do not deny the latter the objectivity you grant the former... Scientists, I suspect, operate on chance more often than they'd care to have us laymen discover."

She later says this about romantics, "Can't you understand that romanticism is no more an enemy of science than mysticism is? In fact, romanticism and science are good for each other. The scientist keeps the romantic honest, and the romantic keeps the scientist human."

Study those observations a while.

Side note:
Daniel Quinn has given me so much to think about with his novel Ishmael that I can't even begin to quote it. I'd have to type out the entire novel, and I believe that is illegal. This book completely changed the way that I view the world. I'll be beginning another of his works soon. All I can do is recommend that you read it, then pass on how amazing it is to someone else.

vanity

2010-03-06T06:22:00.001-06:00

I decided this morning that the best time for me to look in the mirror is in the morning. Maybe, I'm still so sleepy that I just think that I look better then, or something to that effect. Really, I think this would only work when I've actually had a slightly decent night's sleep. I had a slightly decent one last night, though not as good as I'd prefer. Sleep is an issue in and of itself. But in the morning, first thing, I have a sort of glow. Others have it too. I've witnessed this, but I suppose I'd never noticed it about myself. I believe that if I could have that same glow all day, I'd never touch make-up again.

being Mom

2010-03-06T06:21:00.001-06:00

I've been thinking about motherhood, or "momhood" as I like to call it. I really hope that Nora never calls me "Mother" because that just sounds so old. In this thinking, I've suddenly realized that she's almost two. Jesus Christ. The terrible twos are quickly approaching, though I think they've begun really. We're in that stage now, and I am trying to fight it, and I honestly don't have the slightest idea of how to do so. Nor do I know if I am doing anything right at all.

All that is to say, that as I was doing this I thought back to the day she was born. There are lots of things I could say about that day, but one things that really sticks out in my head is the question, "Well, Lauren, how does it feel?" It being momhood. All sorts of thoughts raced through my head, but I always answered with the predictable "wonderful" and with a smile. I made a mental note to never, ever utter than phrase, especially to anyone who's just gone through a life-altering experience. If I have another child, I think I'll answer that question less predictably.

I wish someone would ask me now. While I still have no clue able what I'm doing, I could give a much better answer. Right after she was born I wanted to say, "terrible" or "fucking scary." Now, now I'd say so much more than that. Of course, terrible had more to do with my physical condition than with being a mom, though that rush of hormones was quite terrible.

It feels like a head resting on shoulder, fitting perfectly into that little nook that I'd always found useless. It feels like small hands pushing me from my side to my back in the middle of the night so that a little someone can be more comfortable directly on top of Mama. It feels like the bliss that comes with that first real laugh and the millions to follow. It feels like slimey baby puke making my t-shirt stick to my chest and my hair smell like spoiled milk. It feels like an absolute rush of adrenaline at that cry I instinctively know as the real thing. It feels like the tiredness that ensues after a long night spent with a sick baby whose every breath is difficult. It feels like pure love, the kind that truly never ceases. It feels scary as hell and as confusing as calculus. It feels overwhelming and wonderful and exhausting and rewarding. It feels good.

writer's envy - a meme

2010-03-03T14:52:00.003-06:00

I found this meme here.

Novel you wish you'd written:
Light in August by William Faulkner or Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins (oh so different)

TV you wish you could have been/could be a staff writer on:
Seinfeld

Blog you wish you'd started:
A Softer World

Play you wish you'd written:
Krapp's Last Tape by Samuel Beckett

Poem you wish you'd written:
"Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes" by Billy Collins

Screenplay you wish you'd written:
Fur by Erin Cressida Wilson

Song you wish you'd written:
"Us" by Regina Spektor, "Be Here Now" by Ray LaMontagne, "Love and Some Verses" by Iron and Wine

Blogger with skillz (or readership, for that matter) you wish you could steal:
Heather Armstrong at Dooce

hypocrite

2010-02-21T15:07:00.003-06:00

Religion does have an element of hate. It is overwhelming to me that any group providing food to the victims of a natural disaster would refuse to help someone of a different religion. Why would anyone want to worship a god full of such hate? And, those Christians who are refusing food to Haitians on the basis of their practicing Voodoo, should take a step back and realize that their being the exact opposite of "Christ-like."

perspective

2010-02-20T08:09:00.002-06:00

I need to stop being so damn self-involved. This morning I spoke with a woman about death, about funerals to be specific. She bragged that I'd thought about it more than most people my age. Death does not scare me, embalming does scare me, but not death. It is simply another cycle. I ask her if she'd traveled quite a bit, because it seems that this small town had imparted that fact about her to me. She said, "Yes, but not as much as I'd like."

I replied, "Well, keep going. What's stopping you?"

"Right now I'm going through chemo. So that slows me down a quite a bit." she answered. Remember that this is taking place in a fitness center where she is working out.

Here's the thing. I am healthy. I am doing a lot of amazing things. I will not be here forever. I hope that I have the strength she has one day. That's encouragement. She doesn't even know what she's done for my perspective.

really?

2010-02-13T10:19:00.001-06:00

Apparently there is no limit to what some people will do to animals and in turn to those who consume animals.

Vday

2010-02-12T13:09:00.004-06:00

I've been pondering over Valentine's day. I read somewhere recently that there are two types of thinking concerning Valentine's day. There are the angry people who do not have a lover, those that say they do not care about the holiday and its materialistic ways. Then there are those who have a lover, those who love, love, love the holiday. I'd like to think there are some who are simply in the middle of those two groups. I'd also like to say that I am personally in none of the groups. I find it to be a silly holiday. I don't mind it if others enjoy it. I've thoroughly enjoyed it in the past, but now I realize that it is really just another day. It is about money.

I really don't give a shit about flowers. I do care about chocolate, but it certainly doesn't need to be in a heart-shaped box. In fact, I can only think of Nirvana when I see a heart-shaped box, so that totally skews the meaning of the gesture, doesn't it? I've said in the past (to boyfriends) that if you want to buy me something then buy me something that lasts, a CD or even better, a book. But, really what is the point? It seems forced. A gift should be given because of a desire to give, not because the calendar tells you give it.

All that being said.. I find these slightly jaded, and incredibly humorous stories to be a completely appropriate way to begin this weekend. Whatever you do, don't send me a white rose "gift" via Facebook. Thanks.

XOTC,

Lauren

don't step lightly

2010-02-10T19:38:00.002-06:00

Really, life is a journey. I know that is cliche, but sometimes there is no better way to put things. I am anything but at peace right now, but I can accept that, and I can learn something from it.

“Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” -Matsuo Basho

"Dwell in possibility." -Emily Dickinson

...huh?

2010-02-09T21:01:00.002-06:00

This is quite a disappointment. Apparently there is no place that cannot be effected by McDonald's.

2010-02-08T08:37:00.001-06:00

Patience is a fucking virtue.

the goal

2010-02-04T11:45:00.003-06:00

"Man is equally incapable of seeing the nothingness from which he emerges and the infinity in which he is engulfed." -Blaise Pascal

The ideas surrounding this statement are simply wonderful. Man does emerge from nothing, does he not? Even from a very literal point of view this is true. Before pregnancy there was nothing there; in Christianity Mary was a virgin; therefore, Jesus would come from nothing. God also comes from nothing, if nothing existed before God. (The arguments following that logic are tedious.) This holds true in other aspects of life, etc.

This idea, this statement had a reminiscing effect for me. I did come from nothing. I am engulfed in something so vast it cannot be comprehended, in infinity. It is a nice reminder of one's insignificance. I don't mean that I'm insignificant in an emo, I-think-I'll-go-die sort of way, either.

We all get so caught up in our own little microcosms that we forget others are suffering or celebrating something just as monumental (if not more so) in their own lives. When one thinks of birth and death as something less personal, something that everyone and everything (corporations not included, har har) must experience it becomes a connecting force. We are all connected, if only because we all emerged in the same ways, and we are all engulfed in the same thing.

The disconnect present in a world that is so connected is disheartening, to say the least. The more that I seek such things, the more that I try to connect with the energies and natural things around me, the more noticeable this disconnect becomes, yet because of that fact I find myself pushing even harder to find this real connection and existence. One that I can truly be proud of, one that I can look back on to see that I've actually "stopped one heart from breaking" (see Emily Dickinson).

I've many a goal, but that's it, that's the one, put concisely.

ole' Bill

2010-02-03T18:34:00.005-06:00

I'm sure you've all heard about the Baptists in Haiti who tried to take Haitian children into the Dominican Republic. I know that these children need help, and if I could somehow get to Haiti and do anything to help, I'd be on the next plane. But, that is silly, since I know nothing about how to help in this sort of situation, I have no money to get there, and I can't speak the language, etc. I digress.

I feel like ole' Billy Faulkner summed it up quite well in Sanctuary when he said, "They're just Baptists!" And that is exactly how I feel about this situation. They're only Baptists; clearly, we can't expect much rationality or sense at all to come from them.

uh-oh

2010-02-03T06:11:00.003-06:00

It has recently occurred to me that Nora is going through her last clingy phase. There is no denying that her favorite word of the moment is "Mama." At times this gets frustrating, like when I need to get something out of the oven, and she doesn't understand why I am so serious about her staying back. But, it makes me quite sad when I think of how independent she is out side of this phase. I know that soon she'll be done with me, and I'll never be quite this awesome again. She'll soon realize just how much more she knows, and that I am out of touch with reality. I assume that will be in full effect by age eleven, at the latest; I expect it will begin around age two...

I suppose I'll just soak it up while I'm still the bee's knees. Soon this will be over, too soon.

connect

2010-01-31T20:52:00.006-06:00

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”

- Anais Nin

There is a connection. Many seem to have forgotten that we're all connected in some form. We've been slowly losing touch with that connection to each other, to nature. Now the process has quickened. I feel like one's quality of life is directly connected to how he or she treats others and how he or she treats nature. It's all connected. We are made up of layers, cells, and constellations. It's all there lurking. It seems the more society withdraws from a natural lifestyle, the more unhappy that society becomes.

Earth is beginning to revolt. She'll win.

enough said

2010-01-25T20:59:00.002-06:00

They always make me laugh over at McSweeney's. I find this eerily accurate though.

meme

2010-01-23T17:04:00.002-06:00

It seems a bit trite to do this, but I've decided to do it regardless. I'd love to know how you'd answer these questions.

One word only, please.

Where is your phone? desk

Your hair? short

Your Mother? sensitive

Your Father? stagnant

Your favourite food? fruit

Your dream last night? unremembered

Your favourite drink? tea

Your dream/goal? zen

What room are you in? sitting

Your hobby? reading

Your fear? dormancy

Where do you want to be in six years? peace

Where were you last night? bowling

Something that you're not? tidy

Muffins? butter

Wish list item? doctorate

Where did you grow up? village

Last thing you did? sit

What are you wearing? barefoot

Your TV? hidden

Your pets? nonexistent

Friends? lovely

Your life? busy

Your mood? scattered

Missing someone? yes

Vehicle? goes

Something you're not wearing? jewelry

Your favourite store? Good Will

Your favourite colour? yellow

When was the last time you laughed? reading

The last time you cried? yesterday

Your best friend? loyal

One place that I go to over and over? dictionary

Facebook? eh

Favourite place to eat? grandma's

offhand-fanciful-random

2010-01-23T07:45:00.002-06:00

Does a word ever seem to just hit you over the head? You know, one words just keeps rearing its head over and over for a few days or weeks, and it becomes something that you somehow work into normal conversation, something you say too many times in one day.

My word is "arbitrary" today or yesterday or whatever. It's a good word. I've had better ones stick to my tongue in the past, but right now that's it. I've decided to somehow try to work these sticky words into my creative writing efforts. For whatever reason poetry seems to be at the surface of most of these efforts, granted it isn't the greatest poetry ever, but it is there. I have a couple of short stories I am trying to work on, but things aren't coming along in that area.

Maybe they're too personal or too fresh, too opinionated maybe. Maybe I should try to actually write fiction that isn't based on personal experience, but that's never been something easy for me to do, and I don't know why I'd think it'd suddenly become easy for me to do so. I get too hung up on petty things like the heroine's name or which verb best describes her mocking/snarling/pious/coveted features. When it is real, then the words seem to come more easily. And I have tricks for beginning poetry that just don't work for short stories.

I was honestly hoping that this creative writing class would help me with those efforts, yet it is quite the disappointment. There is no direction, only a quota.

I'd call that a tangent, and it happens to be arbitrary, which brings us full circle.

Arbitrary. That is something that I don't want to be.
It feels like I've done some things recently in a very pointed and driven way, and then I've done other things with no clear motive at all. What I've found is that following my intuition works best, and when I forget myself and let that energy or intuition slip into the back of my mind, those are the moments when I become careless, when I turn a page too quickly or forget to bookmark an especially useful website.
Point being - I'm trying to pay attention to my feelings, to my intuition, and while it is one of the most enlightening and wonderful things I've ever done, it is quite a challenge and one to which I wish I could devote all of my time. Of course, I wonder who can devote all of their time to any one thing.

It's a new path, and I feel that it leads in the correct direction, whether or not that is an arbitrary feeling has yet to be decided, but I'm fairly certain that things are becoming less and less arbitrary.

chips

2010-01-21T22:32:00.002-06:00

I gave five dollars to some random man outside of a gas station tonight. I can't think of a better way to begin this story. I don't which of us was doing more "profiling." What I do know is that it has been a long time since something of this sort has happened to me, and apparently it was time for something to occur.

I pulled up to a gas station in the middle of Jonesboro. Busy street, lots of people around - safe. As I pull into a parking spot a man walks around the corner (the sort of dark corner) of this gas station. I get out of my car, phone in hand and lock the car. As I begin to walk to the door of the station, which I have stopped at to retrieve a snack consisting of Ruffle's Sour Cream and Cheddar chips (my weakness), he begins to talk to me. And the first thing out of this man's mouth is and I kid you not: Hey there young lady.. I ain't no killer or nothing, but you see.. blah, blah. We're out of gas and we need to get to Paragould. Do you have any money? We just need ten dollars...

I say that I have very little. Yet, this guy is persistent. He says that there is an ATM and he'll pay me back if I'll give him my address or phone number. I just handed him a five dollar bill and kept moving.

I noticed that he only seemed to be soliciting to white women, and he was not white. I don't know what he used that five dollars to buy, but I do know that I am happy to be safely behind the locked doors of my mother's house. I did check to make sure I wasn't being followed. Suffice it to say that I probably will just go to a different station the next time I am craving those chips.

oh...

2010-01-20T12:41:00.002-06:00

bronchitis/pneumonia (walking) + grad school + 2 hour drives + "Mama" = FUCK!

Friday,
Please hurry, and bring Sleep.
Love,
Lauren

2010-01-19T13:34:00.003-06:00

Now and Here

He was something else back then,
Unlike the man of now and here.
He'll never be back again.

The way things have recently been
Fills my heart with fear.
He was something else back then.

He was one of the great men,
But along the way he began to veer.
He'll never be back again.

No longer able to recall when
This other man began to leer,
He was something else back then.

All that's left to hold is this pen,
At this point we're
Realizing he'll never be back again.

This is the beginning of the end,
And it's nothing to do with mere sin.
He was something else back then.
He'll never be back again.

-Lauren Adams

closed form

2010-01-16T08:18:00.006-06:00

I find it a great (and fun) challenge and good way to incite creativity to write poetry in closed form. I also like to respond to poems written by others, to put my own spin on them or to take them in the opposite direction. I feel I'll be doing a lot of that for creative writing during this semester. It is almost like taking a study break, except I've taken much better study breaks in the past, in a more free-verse sort of way...

So today I'll be working on a villanelle. A villanelle is a nineteen line poem in which the first and third lines of the first tercet are repeated according to a certain pattern, and then placed next to one another in the last quatrain. The rhyme scheme is: A1bA2, abA1, abA2, abA1, abA2, abA1A2. Okay so now that I've gone all teacher on you, I'll continue on with it, and give two examples.

A nice example of a classic villanelle is Dylan Thomas' Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

A not so classic example is Elizabeth Bishop's One Art.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

— Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

gourmet, really?

2010-01-15T19:54:00.003-06:00

I completely enjoy my personalized google page and reader, but I noticed something today that has been bothering me.

Google now offers "gourmet" gadgets and themes. Seriously!? How obsessed is this nation with food? Who really needs to look at a plate of fucking cookies every time he or she logs onto google? I don't know why over-indulgence has become so common, but something's gotta give (excuse the cliche).

dumbfounded

2010-01-13T17:40:00.003-06:00

Today is a disastrous day in so many ways. The devastation in Haiti is, for the moment, over-shadowing all the other natural disasters of late. Soon it fall off the airwaves prematurely, just like so many other events. It will be pushed aside for something closer to home, some star will die or commit adultery.

This event has collided (in my world) with the death of a close friend. This loss serves to remind me that so many others are suffering so much more than me. One cannot fathom the impact of this loss of life, just like one cannot fathom the loss of one life, not from another's perspective.

When so many suffer and it is so far removed from society that we barely pause, barely recognize the number of lives, of souls that have just collapsed it pains me; it hurts me, sort of paralyzes my mind. To have this sort of loss of life coupled with the death of one of the kindest, most genuine men I've ever know, well it just overwhelms me, knocks me to the floor. How many others are mourning the loss of the kindest man that they ever knew in Haiti or in the rest of the world?

Yet at the same moment, how many are rejoicing to hear the cry of new life coming into this world? The amount of suffering and joy happening at any given moment is simply unfathomable. It leaves me wondering why I deserve to feel the many things that I feel, to experience this glorious and painful life. It leaves me baffled. It leaves me thankful to experience the varied moments of life.

2010-01-07T05:23:00.004-06:00

Things like this should be happening in the states, period.

Accidental Pun + Gap

2010-01-05T18:07:00.003-06:00

Today I said: "I want to go to a real, bonafide sex shop in Soho."

"Mind the Gap" in America would be: Caution! Not Responsible for injury, death, or items lost due to the space between the train and the platform.

London

2010-01-01T17:32:00.005-06:00

Athena's foot - In the British Museum

The London Eye from Westminister Bridge (I think)

Trafalgar Square

London is wonderful. I continue to feel more and more embarrassed to say that I am from the States. The amount of history and tolerance, no acceptance, here is staggering. The thift and book stores have been incredible. I think I'll follow the Bible tomorrow and rest a bit, after all it is the Sabbath. I do have another gift or two to buy; next week is dedicated to museums and other historical sites.

cheerio

2009-12-29T06:36:00.002-06:00

I'm in London.. feeling lonely and overwhelmed. America knows nothing of history, and I can tell this even though I've barely seen this city. Time alone may be difficult to come by.. with in one minute of being in the room.. the television came on and all peace went off. Shows and museums and libraries await.

purely

2009-12-25T22:53:00.004-06:00

Over the years, I've received many gifts. The most important gifts are the ones which are intangible or those which bring an intangible meaning with them. The gifts I've received of late are the best I've ever received. The gifts given not out of obligation but out of love are the most important.

Today I watched as Nora became overwhelmed at the number of gifts she received. While the gifts did have a tangible value, they were given out of pure love. But, more important than that was the joy received in watching her open these gifts. She is a true joy, and that smile breaks my heart.

Christmas is not my favorite holiday, but when a gift is given purely, it is a lovely thing.

Lately I've been happy to see my library grow along with my mind and my heart.

free

2009-12-18T16:09:00.004-06:00

It is official. I am now an undergraduate.

It scares the hell out of me. Of course, I won't get the diploma until May, but I'll keep myself busy with graduate studies until then.

In the past few years, I've learned what the word "stress" actually means. I've also learned how to communicate fully. I am still trying to learn how to listen without excitedly stating my point of view at inappropriate times.

I've learned that putting everything on the line, when done with pure intentions, is always worth it. I am now beginning to fully understand what a truly good man looks like, and it is an incredible sight. I've learned that being honest is not always easy, but in the end making the decision to be honest is well worth it, even while working through the consequences.

I understand that my soul can be cleansed with the tears of another or the laughter of my child.

I know that not watching television is one of the best decisions I've made to date. I know that good novels and poems have likely been edited over and over again. I've learned that books affect my life and thoughts more than any other form of art.

I've learned that following through with stated intentions can be very difficult and very rewarding. I know that patience is a virtue I with which I will always struggle. I have a dry sense of humor. Being an English major has completely changed the way I look at the world; this can probably be said of any field of study.

I know that I will always be a bit unfriendly. I will doubtless always incorporate the words of those that I admire into my own vocabulary.

I know that when I made the decision to live by the words: "If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain" (Dickinson), I made a damn fine decision. While I may only be able to help heal one heart or stop one heart from breaking, I hope to touch the hearts of many.

I don't know who decided that I deserve a degree, a title, but I think that person made a good decision. Pardon my gloating, please.

loves/hates

2009-12-07T23:10:00.005-06:00

Loves

1. old fashioned #2 pencils - I don't believe there is anything better than writing with a pencil that actually has to be sharpened. There is something about it that just makes me feel more creative.

2. The sound of the fan as I drift off to sleep...

3. A novel which leaves a lasting impression on me, like Light in August or Skinny Legs and All.

4. Anticipation. I don't know if anticipation about an upcoming event or the event itself is better. Yes I do; the payoff is totally better, but the build-up is so wonderful.

5. Using Faulkner words: lugubrious, braggadocio, effluvium, etc.

Hates

1. Monsanto

2. Moving just before Christmas and in the middle of finals - That's right I am tackling 2 large papers, finals, a one-year old, and moving all in one week. Try not to be jealous.

3. People who think that their animals are like their children. Did you give birth to that dog? No you didn't? Then shut up!!

4. Moby Dick - Actually, I just hate Herman Melville in general.

5. The phrase "I know, right!?"

Dickinson

2009-12-06T14:34:00.002-06:00

If you were coming in the fall...

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain that when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

-Emily Dickinson

response to Dickinson

2009-12-06T14:28:00.003-06:00

If you were coming in the spring...
After Emily Dickinson
For Nicolas

If you were leaving in the spring,
I'd clutch each winter's day,
Knowing all warmth would be gone
Once the sun comes out to play.

If you would stay her for a year,
I'd trap the months in drawers,
Hiding with them all my fear of
no one's whispers in my ears.

If for one hundred years
You would be here with me,
I'd grasp each fleeting moment

making it lengthy as could be.

After this life has run its course
And thoughts of us decay,
My notions will be of you and me,

And the simplicity of each day.

But now, as I recall your face
And how your laugh did sound,
Those thoughts but goad my mind
flouting as they move 'round.

-Lauren Adams

nazi

2009-12-02T18:28:00.002-06:00

I often have to fight back the urge to be a complete bitch and correct the grammar/usage in my friends' facebook statuses. I'd like to make something like that my status, but I think that'd be equally bitchy, no?

Christmas/Krismas/X-mas/Scrooge

2009-12-01T21:17:00.004-06:00

In years past, I've thoroughly enjoyed Christmas. It began to become very lackluster when my parents separated. Now it seems to have gotten so far away from the original point that I can barely wrap my brain around the idea at all, and that certainly makes it difficult to get in the spirit of wrapping gifts. I am almost to the point of completely boycotting Christmas. I can't just boycott Christmas though; my family would not let me do such a thing. On a side note, I do wonder what effects it would have on a child to grow up not celebrating Christmas for nonreligious reasons.

Something has hit me concerning the holidays lately. And, it is a big something. None of them mean anything anymore. Christmas is all about who has the most lights up, who has the most presents under the tree, whose dinner will taste the best, etc. It doesn't take a very rational mind to see how materialistic things have become. I've realized for a while now that holidays are VERY commercial, but now that I am in a financial crunch that sentiment is ringing true more than ever, and let me be the first to say that it is one big bell ringing in my ears this season.

A skeptic would say that I am only saying these things now because times are hard for me at the moment. That may be true, but after experiencing something so profound dealing with the holidays, I doubt I'll ever look at it the same way again. Christians will say that Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, yet there is no sign of this anywhere in their personal lives, aside from that sad nativity scene half-obscured by Frosty and Rudolph.

I've read where some are now calling it "Krismas." This, of course, refers to Kris Kringle, but that seems even more trite than the Jesus side of the story. First of all, that feeds into the commercialism of the holiday. I will admit that many people seem to really enjoy the giving of gifts, and that is great. But, why not a spontaneous gift given at any moment out of love? Why must we go hunt at 4:00 AM on Black Friday for the perfect gift? Not to mention, that the older I get the more creepy ole' Kris becomes. I mean, why is it okay for a fat, bearded, bald man to slide down my chimney to eat my cookies and then leave me a gift? If that isn't a sexual reference then Freud wasn't a psychologist.

Much to my mother's dismay, I recently told her that I am not going to teach Nora, my one-year old, about Santa Clause. She will certainly know of him, but for her he will always be pretend, sort of like Scooby-Doo. This goes for the Easter Bunny and the Great Pumpkin. Why should I lie to my child about such a matter? She will eventually find out the truth, and then she may very likely question why I've lied to her.

Does all of this mean that I am a scrooge? By no means does it mean such a thing. It means that I am a realist. I still want to gather with my family; I'd just prefer the gifts to be a little more minimal. I don't need a lot of stuff, but I do need their love, support, and hugs. I receive those things everyday. But, sure let's celebrate the fact that that happens. I can do that. I realize I'll never fully get away from Christmas, but I don't have to embrace it so fully. I'm not trying to outrun it; I am just going to let it pass me by.

rest

2009-12-01T18:04:00.004-06:00

Everything has compounded. It seems as though my year ends when the semester ends. A break from this stress seems like a false-advertisement, like the lifetime warranty promised by late night infomercials. The headway I should be making on final papers is non-existent.

I feel lost in a maelstrom of information and longings. Everything is mixing together in ways I would have thought impossible only days ago. I just wish that someone would define the word "rest" for me. Or maybe, if conceivable, give me a bit of that fabled state.

My disheveled sheets offer no comfort. The empty coffee mug on the end table offers no energy. There is no one there to answer my prayers.

Even so, I move on. I look toward greater things, and I ponder that imagined state of rest that my grandparents seem to have complete control over. Even when my body is at rest, my mind is roving. I am constantly longing for another body to be lying beside my own, breathing rhythmically, speaking cool words about hot topics.

"Love is the kind of illness that does not spare the intelligent or the dull." - Albert Camus

hands and feet

2009-11-30T20:59:00.010-06:00

for Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T10:26:00.002-06:00

Yam

The potato that ate all its carrots,
can see in the dark like a mole,

its eyes the scars
from centuries of shovels, tines.

May spelled backwards because
it hates the light,

pawing its way, paddling along,
there is the catacombs.

Bruce Guernsey, New England Primer (Cherry Grove Collections, 2008)

and icy stars glittered...

2009-11-21T09:55:00.004-06:00

"Think of all that has happened here on this earth. All the blood hot and strong for living, pleasuring, that has soaked back into it. For grieving and suffering too, of course, but still getting something out of it for all that, getting a lot out of it, because after all you don't have to continue to bear what you believe is suffering; you can always choose to stop that, put an end to that. And even suffering and grieving is better than nothing; there is only one thing worse that not being alive, and that's shame. But you can't be alive forever, and you always wear out life long before you can have exhausted the possibilities of living." (From Go Down Moses in "The Old People")

And that, that is why I love Faulkner. He is right grieving and suffering are better than not being alive. And one cannot help but try to wear out all the possibilities of living, but that list contains an infinite amount of possibilities...

communicate

2009-11-19T17:26:00.002-06:00

Regardless of what or how you believe, this series is wonderful. Dale McGowan is opening lines of communication up for lots of people! Take a look: http://parentingbeyondbelief.com/blog/?p=2917

revision

2009-11-18T19:02:00.002-06:00

I've slept on it. I wasn't wrong to be honest with my mom. I do feel horrible that she is so worried. It will take a while, and while I don't think she will ever fully understand my point of view, I do think she will eventually accept my decision and my lifestyle. I certainly don't plan to try to change her mind about her beliefs. I respect her beliefs, and I hope that within a few weeks or months she will also come to respect my own beliefs. She is welcome to tell Nora about Christianity when she gets older, as long as there is no threat of burning for eternity in hell.

Basically, I wish I hadn't worried my mother so much, but I feel relieved to get the information out in the open.

2009-11-17T18:03:00.002-06:00

As much as I'd like to think that always telling the truth is the right thing to do, I can honestly say that there are moments (though few and far between) that it is best to just tell people what they want to hear. In my case it wasn't so much what someone wanted to hear; it was what she needed to hear.

Telling one's worrisome mother that you no longer believe in the things that she taught you to believe in is not a great idea. I do believe a lot of the things that she's taught me, but I just cannot believe in Christianity any longer. I didn't just come out and shove that information in her face, but when she asked, I told her the truth.

I am now dealing with a very melancholy and concerned woman.

My mom is an amazing lady. I've now given her more to worry about with two sentences than I've given her to worry about with all of the "sins" that I've committed over all the years of my life...

Why in the world am I stupid enough to be so fucking honest...

freedom

2009-11-02T09:09:00.003-06:00

sometimes

2009-10-29T15:50:00.003-05:00

There are days when things just do not go well. There is nothing that can or cannot be done to solve this. A series of things has happened today. An inner aching pervades my every action. I've been wondering why things happen to be so difficult today. Sure, it has rained for nearly a month now, but that isn't a great reason to be so gloomy. In fact, maybe the lugubrious weather has been directed by my moods.

At least one thing has been simple today. I am feeling a loss, a far removed one, but a loss. I just received a simple text: 17 years ago today in 45 minutes, Papaw. I think it is possible that I am mourning unconsciously for someone whom I can barely remember.

texture

2009-10-22T15:33:00.003-05:00

Wow.

2009-10-19T14:09:00.002-05:00

You can go ahead and add Harold and Maude to my list of all time favorite films; in fact, put it at the very top. Had I known that it was so amazing, I'd have watched it years ago when it was first recommended to me.

light?

2009-10-17T11:16:00.001-05:00

warm

2009-10-11T20:19:00.003-05:00

for kicks

2009-10-07T10:04:00.003-05:00

"You can't teach an old dogma new tricks." -Dorothy Parker

This makes me think of Catholicism and Baptists....

books

2009-10-06T19:11:00.003-05:00

Books should have a profound effect upon their readers. One may not effect me the way that it effects you, but they should have an effect on someone, somewhere nonetheless. I listened to a podcast about the different ways that books have changed people's lives. Listening to it, I couldn't help but reminisce about reading Kate Chopin's The Awakening. That book effected me profoundly. Others have certainly had their effects, but that one in particular set me to action.

While reading Light in August (by William Faulkner) tonight, a few sentences were in accord with my general pattern of thought... As follows:

"One wall of the study is lined with books. He pauses before them, seeking, until he finds the one which he wants. It is Tennyson. It is dogeared. He has had it ever since the seminary. He sits beneath the lamp and opens it. It does not take long. Soon the fine galloping language, the gutless swooning full of sapless trees and dehydrated lusts begins to swim smooth and swift and peaceful. It is better than praying without having to bother to think aloud. It is like listening in a cathedral to a eunuch chanting in a language which he does not even need to not understand."

Tennyson may not have such an effect on you; he doesn't have quite that effect on me, but there are poets who do have that sort of effect. Faulkner has that sort of power with his words, and at one time Kate Chopin evoked a physical response. My favorite books do just that, evoke a feeling, an actual physical reaction, be it good or bad. The words linger in my mind and soul for days and years. That sensation buries itself somewhere within me, bringing itself to the surface at inopportune moments of perfect timing. The reaction is what I pine for, and when that is achieved...

2009-10-06T15:17:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite sites is: www.asofterworld.com
This is one of their creations.

seriously

2009-10-04T19:29:00.002-05:00

Why do people insist that socialism and communism are the same thing?

nothing

2009-10-02T19:27:00.002-05:00

"I realized I had nothing else I wanted to say to him. I stopped talking, nothing feeding nothing until nothing was huge and nothing begot nothing. Feeling nothing is not good, but it's where a lot of people stop and stay. The nothingness is so delusional and numbing. It's like stretching out in the snow and taking a little nap, and the comfort of discomfort is a scary thing. The lull into nothingness should be feared by all. " -Jill McCorkle

That quote is from a short story called "P.S."

These few sentences reminded me of the feel that I got when I'd finished The Awakening by Kate Chopin. That book changed my life. I don't know that this story would have had the same effect at the time, but I do know that it'd have taken much less time to read.

I've been in that relationship. Maybe not the very one from this story, but in that nothing relationship. "Nothingness should be feared by all." That is true. Because, nothing can become quite comfortable. The trick is to find someone who pushes you to be a better person, to be more like the person that you wanted to be as a young adult. Find that.

analogous color

2009-10-01T14:23:00.004-05:00

complimentary color

2009-10-01T14:19:00.003-05:00

unforunately

2009-10-01T09:00:00.002-05:00

"Money" - Dana Gioia

Money, the long green,
cash, stash, rhino, jack
or just plain dough.

Chock it up, fork it over,
shell it out. Watch it
burn holes through pockets.

To be made of it! To have it
to burn! Greenbacks, double eagles,
megabucks and Ginnie Maes.

It greases the palm, feathers a nest,
holds heads above water,
makes both ends meet.

Money breeds money.
Gathering interest, compounding daily.
Always in circulation.

Money. You don't know where it's been,
but you put it where your mouth is.
And it talks.

We are covering this poem, among others, in my poetry class today. It is amazing how some things just simply fall into place. The more that I learn about the world's dependence on money, the more sickened I become. There is nothing to be done at this point, but resigning to that fact is something that I do not want to do. Nonetheless, the poem rings true.

look, look

2009-09-30T22:41:00.000-05:00

You should visit this site: www.religioustolerance.org

the couple

2009-09-30T13:10:00.004-05:00

I am most often found in the library when I am on campus and not in class. I am usually reading. I have often noticed an elderly couple who frequents the library.

The man waits patiently, seeking no extra conversation. His wife, being more inclined to speak to others, asks the librarian about which books her husband should next peruse. He wears his usual uniform consisting of flannel and Dickies. His tennis shoes, worn and dirty, have walked many a mile at this point in their career. She wears a simple navy jacket, aged and comfortable, and a pair of faded jeans. Her tennis shoes are also dirt-stained and passe. His glasses are thick; her hair is short.

He reads dilapidated books on various topics. She scans local and national newspapers for random bits of information, rising to speak to the assorted patrons of the library. They speak to each other in half sentences with a communication so familiar that it requires little more than a glance to convey an entire sentence. The connection they have with one another is as weathered as their complexions, yet it can be seen through their simple habits. Their connection can be heard through the minute inflections barely audible in their whispers.

Sitting a few feet from them, I feel as though I have somehow become a part of this antique love and connection. By witnessing something that has remained pure despite the unknown lives that have been led around and through it, I've learned some valuable truth. Giving word to that truth is something I am failing at right now. But, I know, it will form of its own accord at the precise moment it is needed. Until then, their easy way will remain in my mind. I will continue to strive for the same sort of connections in my life.