Friday, December 28, 2007

A poem I heard on the radio

What My Father Believed
by John Guzlowski

He didn't know about the Rock of Ages
or bringing in the sheaves or Jacob's ladder
or gathering at the beautiful river
that flows beneath the throne of God.
He'd never heard of the Baltimore Catechism
either, and didn't know the purpose of life
was to love and honor and serve God.

He'd been to the village church as a boy
in Poland, and knew he was Catholic
because his mother and father were buried
in a cemetery under wooden crosses.
His sister Catherine was buried there too.

The day their mother died Catherine took
to the kitchen corner where the stove sat,
and cried. She wouldn't eat or drink, just cried
until she died there, died of a broken heart.
She was three or four years old, he was five.

What he knew about the nature of God
and religion came from the sermons
the priests told at mass, and this got mixed up
with his own life. He knew living was hard,
and that even children are meant to suffer.
Sometimes, when he was drinking he'd ask,
"Didn't God send his own son here to suffer?"

My father believed we are here to lift logs
that can't be lifted, to hammer steel nails
so bent they crack when we hit them.
In the slave labor camps in Germany,
He'd seen men try the impossible and fail.

He believed life is hard, and we should
help each other. If you see someone
on a cross, his weight pulling him down
and breaking his muscles, you should try
to lift him, even if only for a minute,
even though you know lifting won't save him.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Lunch

The little circles of rice, seaweed, crab
Lay in perfect rows on a plate
A small culture of uniformity
Order
Cold

I mix brown liquid and green paste
In a small dish set aside
Dip
One bite

This is not the proper way to eat sushi
But it tastes good to me
And doesn't that count for something

Monday, December 17, 2007

What I Do

I drive with a little person in my back seat. I look in the rearview to watch her talking to a graham cracker. I hear her singing softly her own lyrical version of our favorite band. She sends her requests to the front seat, "Next song, Mommy. B-head, good one Mommy. My song."

I stand in my kitchen and peel an onion. If it makes my hands smell bad, if it makes me cry, I don't care. I chop it and throw it in a pan of sizzling butter. And the garlic next. Many ingredients later I stand over the stove and slowly stir, stir. When it is time to eat I am already full from the smells.

I sit in a chair and face a screen, hands on keys, each day. I edit and resize. I drink coffee, and I drink more coffee. I pick up my phone and a tiny man is taped to the inside of the handset. A prankfull of plastic army men litter my work space in various poses of combat. One stands on the back of a black and white cow. Charge!

I open a bottle of beer and walk down plaid shag steps to the basement. I sit and play drums. I am an advancing drummer. I am done with Medium and ready for Hard. I look over at my bandmate on the futon, already asleep and exhausted from his day. He is an Expert.

I peel the cellophane from the pack, open, pick one, strike a match and smoke. Just this one night, and then maybe again on the weekend, and possibly another night after that. I sit on a wooden bench for hours and never think about the discomfort, while I drink and laugh and listen. I watch my friends and soak in their sounds.

I drive alone. I write snapshots in my head, grip the wheel and try to remember where I'm going. I get desperate for the night sometimes when I go from here to there. And sometimes I am in the moment that I never want to end.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

A Scratchy, Sleepy Itch

She sat up in bed, startled with the sudden realization--no.

In the middle of the day, after eating the best peach of her life, she knew for sure--no.

After two mid-week drinks in a smokey bar she cocked her head to the side and stared blankly to the right, revelation--no.

Unlike Einstein, she never experienced a moment of clarity and awareness, a flash image of how it all works. The changes were slowly creeping their way through her body and mind like a virus. Like a frog in boiling water. She never knew what was happening.

If she tries to pinpoint the main events, the first thing to come into focus is the book, the one about science and the history of everything. She never learned science in high school, just mythology and beautiful dreams. And she loved books, loved stories, fictions and fantasy. Facts never really mattered when her own reality was so believable. Hives of doubt may have existed below the surface before the book, but with the opening of those pages she scratched the itch. It felt good to scratch. Scratching spreads the itch though.

The real main event now, reality check. The problem with reality is that it always changes, with the days and seasons and with each human being. With the dissolution of an almost thirty-year marriage, her parents. Family was a game she played with them and her sister and dogs, one cat, many houses of cards they set up and rearranged. Life imitates art. Her life was built around fiction, carefully crafted lies, secrets and childhood pain. Again, her parents. She thought it was real enough. She didn't have childhood pain. And when the cards came fluttering down she blinked, opened her mouth and squeaked. What is this? She started reading non-fiction.

She would never blame the man and woman for the changes. It was a slow, inevitable awakening from a pleasant dream. But she still feels like it's one of those dreams within a dream. Is there more to wake up from? Will the itch go away? Will nothing be left unquestioned.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Just don't bother.

Dear Arron, Step, and Baby,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Love,
Aunt Seeyounextyear and Uncle WhydidIwastethispostagestamp.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

An Open Letter

To the ugly, butch, socially awkward librarian at the the Kennedy (at Riley) Library:

I know that you and all of your co-workers are looking at that salutation wondering, "Which one does she mean?" Exactly. Listen up, all of you, and take note.

As much as I love labored interactions with you at the circulation desk, I love even more your painfully unpleasant tutorials on all things self-checkout. You have dutifully walked me through books--this bar code, not that. DVD's--removal of security case. Holds on my account--looks like you forgot to return this item. But today when I just needed to pay my fines and you said "Oh, that's usually done with self-checkout, have you ever paid a fine with self-checkout before, let me show you" it was the last straw. And so, my wrath is poured out.

1) You stink, like onions and curry, and not in a pleasant, that puts me in the mood for Indian food, kind of way.
2) Pushing the touch screen option buttons HARDER will do nothing but make you look like an idiot. That's why it's called a touch screen.
3) I do not need a step-by-step on how to feed money into a money-eating machine. Do I look like I'm from 1952? Yours is not the only one on the planet, there are others and when you feed them they generally give you something tasty or fizzy in return.
4) You are a public servant and lest you forget, next time I'm refusing to self-checkout. Sorry, no, I can't use the self-checkout. I have no sensitivity in my finger tips. I'm illiterate. I have that disorder where you neglect the right side of your body and I'm right handed. I'm blind and your touch screen has no braille. I'm allergic to lasers. Or, how's this for self-checkout? It's called putting the effing book in my bag and walking out, douche.

Very truly yours,
The feisty redhead who pays your salary in late fees.

P.s. And don't even think I'm going to be using your new self-check IN program when you spring that one next year. Yeah, I've read your Technology Plan.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

fumbling towards ecstasy

i really need to run. three-months-ago-me would never have believed it, but i love to run. i want to push myself and then in the last minute push harder. i want to exhaust myself. it feels good to sweat, inhale sharply, exhale more calmly, to exist, to feel my heart racing, muscles burning. i swear i had an out-of-body experience running one clear day in october. i watched my shadow bouncing in front of me and suddenly i was watching something altogether unrelated to me. the shadow moved along and i felt nothing. no body, no aching or movement. i floated and looked at the shadow below, fascinated.

Monday, November 19, 2007

radiohead.tv

radiohead cover bjork. sweet.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Goodbye to Summer

I know it's been Autumn for a bit now, but I just felt the need to summarize my really great summer. I love lists, so..

+ Fishini's
+ Baby pools in the backyard
+ Farmers Market practically in the backyard
+ Back to work
+ Front porch cigarettes
+ Brewing beer
+ Riding the bus
+ Political angst
+ Running!
+ My first 5K!
+ Thursday night at the Heorot
+ Monday night dinner
+ Maddie's first camping trip
+ Talbot Street
+ Friends

Monday, October 29, 2007

Trick or Treat



Not That Innocent Britney + White Trash Britney + Baby Sean Preston = Genius Group Halloween Gittup

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Radiohead Fangirl

How do they do it? I mean - How. Do. They. Do. It?
[Commence Gushing] I love In Rainbows. Beautiful, inspiring, noisy, fun, complex but not too esoteric. And it will get better. A Radiohead record always gets better. [End Gush]

There, I had to get it out!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Flash


This picture pretty much explains the nature of my relationship with my daughter--the wild child kicking up dust and racing towards danger.

Monday, September 10, 2007

On Faith

Here is an interesting forum in the Washington Post. I like this blogger's opinion of faith, which is basically an idealistic vision of peace and respectful disagreement among people of different faiths. It just sounds so rational, like anyone with a normal brain should be able to agree with that sentiment. But I guess that is how we all feel about our deeply held beliefs, and thus the conflict.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Updates

I didn't get the job.
Kunkey's ear fell off.
Not sure which is more devastating.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Fake is so hot right now

I'm not interested in quality, authenticity, talent, or the so-called "real" these days. I want my food processed, my celebrities enhanced, my news filtered for entertainment value, and my boobs inflated and lifted. Real life is just so 1994. Can you imagine seeing a real, wrinkled (but still lovely) 40-something Faith Hill on a magazine cover? If you did, you might go into shock. What if this Jojo song were not pitch-shifted all to hell? It wouldn't be nearly so catchy, in fact it would suck. What if pop stars actually performed live, without vocal back-up assistant? Gimme my $75 back--that's what you'd say. What if the only stories on the news were about global warming? I just hope I stay plugged into the Matrix for awhile, cause it's gonna suck when I have to take that red pill!

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Dropping the big one(s)

This past week was the anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. A review of the main events makes you wonder if insanity was contagious, like a plague, during that time: the Italians had fascism, Germany had Hitler and Holocaust, Russia had Stalin and Communism, Japan had an emperor (who wanted to take over all of Asia), China had Mao, and the USA had the atom bomb.

Carl Sagan says...

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Damn, where have I been?

I was really getting into the groove of writing every day, but then something happened. It happens every time. For some unknown reason, some force in the universe, some mystical cosmical wind blows in every few years and I can't help myself. I get focused. I get nearsighted and suddenly I realize, oh my God, I'm addicted to politics again.

It is so sad. I can't go a day without reading the Washington Post (online). I check my blogs. I read books (Al Gore and Barack Obama this month). I sneer at Republicans and debate random strangers. And all for what? So I can get depressed and bore my friends and my husband? Aaron and I have this ongoing debate about the importance or lack thereof of being informed about current events. I'm winning the debate, naturally, because I pull out quotes like this bad boy from Thomas Jefferson: "A nation that expects to be ignorant and free expects what never was and never will be." How can you argue? I mean, I'm sure you can, but it is a pretty kick ass quote.

Anyway, the cycle is the same. I get obsessed, I get excited, I get self-righteous, I get angry, I get disallusioned, I get depressed, and then I get over it. Here's to being over it (or so I say until tomorrow when Bush does something outrageous).

Friday, July 13, 2007

Mr. President, Wake Up

This quote from a senior intelligence official in the Bush administration caught my eye, while reading this article in the Washington Post: "The current situation, with regard to governance in Iraq, was probably irreversible in the short term, because of the world views of many of the [Iraqi] government leaders, which were shaped by a sectarian filter and a government that was organized for its ethnic and religious balance rather than competence or capacity."

Does this strike anyone as ironic, as it seems that our government is looking more and more like this assessment? Our leaders are following ideology rather than facts, blinded by their narrow world-view and utter belief that they are right, lacking balance and competence. Bush & Co. continue to ignore the assessments of the Iraq study group and any recommendations by those who oppose their pre-conceived notions, regardless of fact or truth. Our President's continued optimism is a joke and shows us either how blind or how deceptive he really is. He will be asking for us to "just give it more time" until he is out of office and someone else can handle the mess.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Your Inner Chimp

For fans of public radio, check out the program "Radio Lab" of New York Public Radio. We don't have this program on our local station, but through the beauty of the internet you can listen for free. It is very similar to This American Life, and that is where I first heard an excerpt of a show from Radio Lab on "Morality". The two hosts talk to scientists and people on the street about morality, where it comes from, why we have it. Very interesting social and scientific commentary in an entertaining format. I can't wait to hear more.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Costs of War

The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are costing us $12 billion a month. Nancy Pelosi made this statement yesterday about the costs of the war and why we should start pulling out of Iraq:

“Think about what $10 billion a month would mean to protecting Americans from terrorism, improving security at our ports and airports, and increasing border security. Think about what $10 billion a month would mean for the 47 million Americans who don’t have health insurance, for the survivors of Hurricane Katrina, and for the education of our children. Think about what $10 billion a month would mean to lowering the deficit so that future generations are not burdened with debt.

“The American people are outraged at the Bush Administration’s misplaced priorities -- that is why Congress will hold the Administration accountable with votes this month to end the war and redeploy the troops. This will include a vote on legislation to begin redeployment of our troops within 120 days and to conclude by April 1, 2008, with the exception of those remaining in Iraq to fight terrorists and protect our diplomats."

No money for education or healthcare, billions available for killing. But that's OK, we're fighting for a just cause. Right?

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Quiller Quesadillas

That title doesn't have quite the effect I was going for....like Kountry Korner. Oh well.

I made these Quick-ass Quesadillas the other day and thought I would share. It's easy.
In your food processor, dump 2 handfuls of shredded mexican cheese, handful chopped cilantro, 2 cloves garlic, 1/2 inch of hot chili pepper, and then chop it up. Get a skillet nice and hot, butter up a tortilla and put it in the skillet butter-side down. Then top the tortilla with some of the cheese mix and top that with another buttered tortilla (butter-side up). Brown and flip. Repeat with more tortillas until cheese mix is gone, or save the mix for later. Top quesadillas with sour cream and salsa. Tasty.

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

On a lighter note...

A friend and I were talking about human atrocities throughout history and how when we look back it is inconceivable that mankind committed these acts: slavery, genocide, nuclear war. I always think about the possibility of my own complicity had I lived during those times. I could never be involved in such things. I would rise above the common thought of the crowds. But we are blind to the evil of our own times. What will our grandchildren say of this time in history? We allowed wars for oil, apathy towards African genocide, interminable imprisonments and torture of our alleged enemies, destruction of the planet, intolerance and unequal rights for gays, corporate greed, an isolationist bigotry towards foreigners and immigrants. I know in the past there were people who went against the government or fought racism and war, but history shows they weren't powerful enough to stop the horror of the moment. The majority let those in power have their way, just as our government has been given license to their wrongdoing through the manipulation of the masses. I hope to keep my eyes open, to be able to look back with a clear conscience that my attitude, my words, and my support were on the side of right.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Once

I saw Once this weekend. It is a story of two struggling people who find each other in Dublin and discover they are a perfect musical match. The two characters are Glen Hansard, lead singer of The Frames, and Marketa Irglova, a young multi-talented singer/songwriter from Prague. The movie is so lovely in its simplicity and in its truthful portrayal of music making. The songs are achingly beautiful and memorable, making you want to run out and download the soundtrack immediately. I felt a stab of longing when the couple began creating songs together, missing that part of myself. Rent it or make a trip to Indy and enjoy.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

+I could get used to this. Sitting in the bookstore cafe on campus, drinking coffee, with a laptop literally on my lap, working. The office is under construction and so I am escaping the banging and drilling and manly heave-hoe-ing sounds that are coming from the other side of the wall that will soon be torn down. And my work can all be accomplished on this little traveling machine: email, MS Access, and the web. Lovely.

+Aaron and I watched The Fountain last night. Brilliant. Beautiful. Breathtaking.

+Happy Anniversary, my love. Ten years of sweetness.

Friday, June 22, 2007

For the Anniversary of My Death

by W. S. Merwin

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what

Thursday, June 21, 2007

I am

To be immortally this. This life, this self, reaching into eternity. Yes, death is a blessing. She voiced a hope that reincarnation is real. A hope that this is not the end, each individual's spark of life reaching out in continued exploration and perfection. But I would reincarnate backward. Take me back to mammal, bird, amphibia, reptile, down down the branches to lowly invertebrate. Consciousness and self-awareness far from reach. To be free of self. To be. He said it perfectly when he said "I am." Way Truth Life. No need for explanation for those words are mystery and unexplainable. No way to look at the thing itself but by way of parable, story and symbol. I am. I exist. I am water, wine and living bread.

In the next life, let's be furry mammals together. Wrapped in only ourselves for warmth in our den. Living only for the sake of existence.

Friday, June 15, 2007

My name is Gladiator

At my signal, unleash hell!

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

You little brat..

At my aunt's daycare, where my daughter spends half the day, there is a little girl who bugs me. Most of the time I like kids (in small doses when they aren't related to me) but not this one. The second day I dropped Maddie off, she said to me "You were wearing those clothes yesterday." She is only four. This morning she said to me, "Why do you always wear those shoes?"

It really irritated me but I didn't say anything. Later I caught myself running through possible responses for the next time she strikes:

Because I have better things to think about than my shoes
A lot of people only have one pair of shoes, or maybe none at all
I do not, I wore the black ones yesterday!! So ha!

I really shouldn't have cared at all. But I think it took me back to middle school when I got "pulled over by the fashion police" (two older girls) for wearing high tops. Some things you just don't get over...

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Peas to Particles



Tonight I quite accidentally created a little masterpiece. I didn't feel up to cooking, but I didn't think Aaron would feel up to another night of just salad. From years of experience in the kitchen, I know that the tastiest, most satisfying "quick-meal" is a stir-fry. So I proceeded to gather my bounty, harvested earlier in the week from the Farmer's Market: kale, onion, tomato, cilantro, and fresh peas (in the pod, so quaint). I felt like Anne of Green Gables shelling those deliciously old-fashioned peas. I heated spices and onion: coriander, ginger, tumeric, cumin, salt, garlic, chilies. In twenty minutes I had stirred up a lovely veggie curry and then realized I would be enjoying it alone. I'd forgotten that he would be home late. I took my one-pot wonder, poured over a bed of fluffy basmati rice, to the front-porch, along with a home brew.

I knew I would be blogging about this, so I got the camera and snapped some pictures before I even had the first bite. While I ate, I mulled over how I would describe the dish, what interesting words would I use. These thoughts ran in the front of my mind, but lurking behind--a sort of metathought--was the notion of framing an experience in words as it is happening. The act of thinking about how I would tell the simple event actually changed the experience of the event. Like in quantum physics when a particle is altered the moment it is observed. No matter how I tried to stay in the moment, relish the flavors of my masterpiece, my fingers were itching for a pen...or the keyboard.

Kangaroo or Rabbit?



+The Daily News reported on a 6 foot tall kangaroo that was captured Monday after a weekend of hopping around rural central Indiana. My favorite part of the story was this bit from local man Jim Greiner, 53, who saw the kangaroo hopping towards his son's graduation party: "We thought it was a large rabbit."

+Other items in nature: the Planet Earth 5-disc series is a must see. Hands down, the most beautifully filmed nature documentary. The production team used state-of-the-art cameras to capture breathtaking aerial shots of some of the most remote places on earth. Rent it today.

Friday, June 1, 2007

Riding the bus


I decided to conduct a social experiment yesterday: taking the bus. For someone who's never ridden Muncie's public transportation, who's always had a car or access to one, this experiment was shrouded in an illusion of romance. Romance in a daring, slumming for fun kind of way. I also thought it would be a noble deed for the planet, doing my part for global warming. But mostly I was bored. The experiment began a little too well when I arrived at the bus stop three blocks from my house, the bus pulling up right as I reached the corner. A quiet little jaunt downtown. But then I got gutsy (stupid). I loaded myself and my daughter (in her stroller) on a random route that I assumed would go past at least one convenience store so I could run my insignificant errand. Little did I know that forty YMCA day-campers were about to board my bus. I was soon to learn that this bus ran the route from hell, zig-zagging through random neighborhoods, people boarding and exiting but never the kids. They stayed. All of us at standing room only, me holding the stroller with a death grip. And no CVS in sight. Nor Walgreens. The bus finally squealed to a halt at the park, and we got off, and I walked and walked and walked because I was stupid not to bring a schedule or a watch or my fucking car.

Spring...oh wait, Summer


I heard this on the Writer's Almanac this morning. I know it's summer already, but Spring is still in my mind. A poem by Louise Erdrich and a little picture of a spring chick.

Spring Evening on Blind Mountain

I won't drink wine tonight
I want to hear what is going on
not in my own head
but all around me.
I sit for hours
outside our house on Blind Mountain.
Below this scrap of yard
across the ragged old pasture,
two horses move
pulling grass into their mouths, tearing up
wildflowers by the roots.
They graze shoulder to shoulder.
Every night they lean together in sleep.
Up here, there is no one
for me to fail.
You are gone.
Our children are sleeping.
I don't even have to write this down.