Me: Maddie, what do you listen to when you drive in the car with daddy?
Maddie: iPod
Me: Yes, but what music, what bands?
Maddie: iPOD, iPOD!
Me: What bands do you listen to?
Maddie: iPOD Mommy! [sing-songy] Podpodpodpodpodpod....
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
My Official Endorsement
I would like to make an important announcement that everyone in the world will want to hear. I've thought long and hard about this. I've read a book. I've watched a youtube video and at least three debates. I have listened to important celebrity opinion. And now it is time to add my voice to the growing numbers. I support Barack Obama for President. Make no mistake and let me be perfectly clear about this: I am supporting Obama not just because I'm black, or a member of MoveOn, and not just because Barack is a handsome and inspiring figure who can string together a coherent, unscripted thought in an interview. And certainly not just because all of these cool celebrities sing in this sweet video. There are many, many other reasons that I throw the full weight of my support behind this candidate. Lots of reasons . Tons.
OK so, is it just me, or does anyone else think that Scarlett Johansson makes no sense in this video? Otherwise, I think it is a lovely little piece of positive propaganda.
OK so, is it just me, or does anyone else think that Scarlett Johansson makes no sense in this video? Otherwise, I think it is a lovely little piece of positive propaganda.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
We are one
I find myself sucking the corners of my mouth down into a frown. I feel the weight of my eyes. I notice the heaviness of my cheeks. I wonder if gravity is stronger here on my face than anywhere else.
So then I smile, not because I feel happy, but to trick my face into feeling happy. And it works, the smile warms through my entire body, and reminds me of the reasons I have to smile. And then I'm smiling because I feel happy.
And later I find myself sucking down the corners of my mouth. Rinse. Repeat.
Who is in control? My mind, or my body. We are one.
So then I smile, not because I feel happy, but to trick my face into feeling happy. And it works, the smile warms through my entire body, and reminds me of the reasons I have to smile. And then I'm smiling because I feel happy.
And later I find myself sucking down the corners of my mouth. Rinse. Repeat.
Who is in control? My mind, or my body. We are one.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I love robots, I said. And other random thoughts.
Some days I want to flip a switch in my brain and just shut down. Power off. Autopilot on. Glide through my daily activities with a glazed look. Nummmmmmmb. I'd rather not feel anything than too much.We are cut from the same cloth, my sister said in a voice that looked like Arial 10 pt. The cloth made of....not understanding your emotions. It's like cashmere. I love cashmere, I said. So soft. Wool that doesn't itch.
I love and hate finding out that I am not alone in experiencing the human condition. My thoughts are completely unoriginal. I am not a beautiful and unique snowflake. For those like me, struggling with meaning and God, read this (ch 1-3). Our choice is to laugh or despair. I love laughter, I said.
My hands type on keys and I feel an absurd connection to my beautiful computer. I tried writing in a journal yesterday, made of paper, using a pen, and I didn't like it. That made me sad and/or confused and/or ambivalent. I couldn't express my thoughts very well because it took so long to write in analogue. My penmanship is scribbly where it once was neat. The messiness of ink disrupts the process somehow and I fear the dark ages ahead when I may have to tap out my thoughts using a chisel and stone.
+ + +
Side Note of a Political Nature:
When we want to hate someone we dehumanize him. Or her. It is interesting to me that so many comments have been made about Hilary Clinton being a robot. Some kind of programmed superbot of the Democratic party's devising. I'm not a big fan of hers, but I've just noticed this. And then when she shows emotion she's weak. Funny. I don't want to get political really, I just thought since I'm talking about Robots....
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
The Frog Prince
A beautiful princess held a golden ball, tossed it in the air. It was her favorite plaything. She sat in the woods and played with her golden ball all day long. One day the ball rolled into a deep, cool well. The Princess wept and her sobs grew loud. From not far away, a Frog spoke to her "Princess, why do you cry?"
The Princess said to the Frog, "I have lost my golden ball, my treasure." The Frog spoke again, "I will fetch your ball if you promise to take me home and love me forever." The Princess quickly said, "I will give you anything if only you bring my treasure back to me."
The Frog jumped into the well and brought the ball back to the Princess. She grabbed it and happily ran off. The Frog jumped after her, reminding her of her promise.
The Princess arrived home to her castle, and during her meal she heard a knock on the castle doors and Frog pleading with her to let her in.
To make a long story short, the Princess treated the Frog like shit, fulfilled her promises grudgingly when the King made her, and eventually threw the Frog against the wall in disgust. When she did, he turned into a handsome Prince and they got married. A witch had put a curse on the Prince that only a Princess could undo.
When I read this story to my daughter, I wonder, why would that Prince want to marry a spoiled, vain, selfish child like the Princess? Her only virtue is her often mentioned beauty. I can't figure out if there is a moral here somewhere in this Grimm fairy tale.
The Princess said to the Frog, "I have lost my golden ball, my treasure." The Frog spoke again, "I will fetch your ball if you promise to take me home and love me forever." The Princess quickly said, "I will give you anything if only you bring my treasure back to me."
The Frog jumped into the well and brought the ball back to the Princess. She grabbed it and happily ran off. The Frog jumped after her, reminding her of her promise.
The Princess arrived home to her castle, and during her meal she heard a knock on the castle doors and Frog pleading with her to let her in.
To make a long story short, the Princess treated the Frog like shit, fulfilled her promises grudgingly when the King made her, and eventually threw the Frog against the wall in disgust. When she did, he turned into a handsome Prince and they got married. A witch had put a curse on the Prince that only a Princess could undo.
When I read this story to my daughter, I wonder, why would that Prince want to marry a spoiled, vain, selfish child like the Princess? Her only virtue is her often mentioned beauty. I can't figure out if there is a moral here somewhere in this Grimm fairy tale.
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.
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.
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