Soliloquium of Random Rumination

What do I know about race???

2008-10-15T18:48:00.000-07:00

I know that I am white. Overly so, as has been pointed out to me.

I know that I've never really had to think about race unless I wanted to. I've never been in a situation where I have been the racial minority or in a situation that was overtly about race. Or at least that I perceived was about race.

I know I was old enough to remember when I discovered that black people did not all look alike. I really honestly was so isolated and inexperienced that this was a discovery for me.

Not long after that, on a trip to Chicago when I was seven, I saw a black girl who was about the same age as me. She flipped me off and I was horrified. Now that I look back on the situation I realize that her reaction to me was probably because I was staring at her.

The estranged father of my childhood friend is Native American. Her stepfather used to tell a joke: Why did God make seagulls? To beat the Indians to the dump. (Perhaps, I perceived this situation to be about race at the time. I hope I did. I imagine I did because I've remembered it so clearly.)

Two of my friends were part Chinese, but I don't think this ever really registered for me because, for me, black was different and someone who spoke another language was different but dark hair and slightly different features weren't enough.

I grew up looking for arrowheads with my grandma in the mountains, though it never really crossed my mind that the reason the arrowheads were there and the Indians were not had anything to do with race.

I covered my face in baby powder, painted my lips red and dressed in a robe and a cone shaped hat because we were celebrating the history of my town and my friend and I had been told that there were once Chinese gardens and, thus, Chinese residents. (What adult let us do this??? This just keeps getting more and more embarrassing.)

I was awakened to my learned prejudices when I began reading minority literatures. I suddenly became more aware of and changed how I perceived the world. The stories of minority literatures changed my story. What my sphere lacked was provided, at least in part, by literature.

Minority literatures opened up worlds of human experience to me that I could never have had any access to. Each story brought me to a different world, wholly unlike my own. More importantly, despite the differences between the worlds I read about and my own I could always relate to something. The "other" was no longer so different from me.

I have no doubt that minority literatures are important to me, to other white students, to students of other ethnicities and nationalities, to everyone, for the simple reason that we find where our lives meet with all others through the stories that are told.

And here's where we run into our little problem.

Though I've enjoyed and been moved by minority literatures do I, firmly part of the majority, have a right to claim a place in them? Can I help move that "other" into being a part of an overarching human existence? Do I have any business studying or teaching minority literatures or does my race and position exclude me from understanding? Can I help or am I, by default, the problem?

I hope not.

I don't want to be powerless. I don't want my best effort to be inadequate but what I can do is limited and ill-defined. I can only strive to do my best. And right now my best means thinking about this subject quite a bit more.

Huh. I have a blog.

2008-10-02T08:11:00.000-07:00

This could be useful.

Sadly Neglected Blog Receives Attention/Naomi Wolf Response

2007-04-18T12:43:00.000-07:00

Last night I finished reading Naomi Wolf's book Misconceptions. It's a highly feminist tome that looks at the process of pregnancy, giving birth and motherhood through the eyes of the privileged, highly educated, feminist-minded Wolf.

There are a number of points made by Wolf that I heartily agree with. I believe that the medical community unfairly disregards the value of midwifes and doulas. I believe that the American way of birth has been constrained by making medical practices such as epidurals, epesiotomies and c-sections standard practices. I do believe that it would behoove employers to offer more flexible schedules and benefits to parents, both moms and dads. I think she's very right to try to shed light on these inequities, however, I found myself annoyed that she kept returning to the theme of losing oneself to motherhood.

She continually voiced her fear of losing herself, which I suppose is only natural for someone who seems to think she is such an island of womanly independence. Wolf expresses anger that she is forced now to rush from her office to home in order to feed the baby who is being watched over by a "caregiver". This baffled me. I truly believe that this is a fear that is generated by a generation of privileged women who put far too much emphasis on individuality. When you become a mother you do not lose yourself... you gain another facet. It's true that you are unable to devote as much time to the things that once defined you, in Wolf's case writing, but those parts of you do not melt away into nothingness- they inform the way you live, the way you mother.

Another difficulty I had with the book was her view that the women she knew were in inequitable relationships with the husbands having more power. These women wanted their husbands to do more work around the house and felt overwhelmed attempting to care for one or two children all by themselves... with the help of a "caregiver". This shocked me. I couldn't help thinking of the multitudes of mothers who have cared for more children with less help and support from partners. I'm not saying that these peers of Wolf didn't deserve or need more help from their partners, but I think that they were in far better positions and actually had the power to change the way things were. There are many women even today who really have no power in their relationships and the women Wolf spoke of were not them.

Try, try, try again.

2007-01-27T06:09:00.000-08:00

So.... I'm a little lazy witht the blogging for the past ten months or so. So what?

I just need a few goals.

And I'll get back to you on that.

Maybe.

My Unintentional Hiatus From Writing Has Been Put On Hold (at least temporarily)

2006-03-18T13:16:00.000-08:00

Well, what can I say?

RECENTLY READ BOOKS

The Nanny Diaries: A fun read that made me a little afraid of the rich and feel very sorry for their children. This book answers the question 'how selfish can you get if you have almost everything?'.

American Gods: A fascinating story that places the gods of world myth in America and gives them a battle to fight. Although you might be a little surprised to find out the cause and meaning of the battle. I really like the way Neil Gaiman writes. He finds all those dark corners of his imagination that you don't really want to see, illuminates them, and pulls you by the elbow until you're just a little bit closer than you feel comfortable being. Brilliance.

First Indian On The Moon: Ah, Sherman Alexie. I'm about as white as a girl can get, yet this Indian's poetry speaks to me. It makes me want to write poetry again. I haven't done that in a long time. Maybe I'll start right now.

For Mike On Saturday

This wonderful morning,
I heard the toaster oven ding,
and smelled the gentle scent of waffles,
wafting through the air.

They're just frozen waffles,
that were on sale for a dollar,
but you know it's the thought that counts,
and the raspberry sauce on top.

Come Live with Me

2005-11-09T08:15:00.000-08:00

Instead of eating breakfast this morning I watched a romantic, old movie. Come Live with Me was made in 1941 and stars James Stewart and Hedy Lamarr. (The Turner Classic Movies channel is playing Hedy Lamarr films in honor of it being her birthday today.)

Lamarr plays an immigrant whose temporary visa has expired and must either leave the country or marry an American citizen. Fortunately she finds Stewart. Stewart is a down-on-his-luck writer who's just lost his last dime. She quickly convinces him to marry her in exchange for just enough money for him to live on each week. He immediately sits down to write this story that is stranger than fiction... though he's not sure how to end it since she just visits once a week to drop off a check and doesn't seem the slightest bit interested in actually loving this man she's married. He is urged by the milk man to make the character get off his butt, or as he puts it "...get some pants", and get the girl because the story needs a happy ending. Stewart's character sends out the first couple chapters of his book to publishers, one of whom recognizes the story because he is Lamarr's older, rich, married boyfriend who is about to ask his wife for a divorce so he can marry Lamarr's character. The publisher's wife loves the story instantly and insists that he give Stewart an advance. Stewart uses the advance to whisk Lamarr off to the country to visit his wise grandmother. In the end Stewart recites some poetry to Lamarr and she falls for him and decides to staty with the writer in the country rather than go to a life of luxury with the publisher.

Moral of the story: pretty words always get the girl. It doesn't matter what you look like or how much money you make, if you write or recite poetry the girl is yours. (I believe Sherman Alexie said something to that effect when I saw him speak.)

Just beware of those other literate men.

Now, classic films are really no substitute for breakfast, so I am going to go get a bowl of cereal.

Musical Trickster

2005-11-08T11:44:00.000-08:00

If I remember correctly there was a musical artist, about ten years ago, by the name of Chris Gaines who suddenly appeared out of the woodwork and with great fanfare. He appeared on Saturday Night Live and was rumored to be starring in a movie. After a very short while of everyone questioning 'ooooh, who's this new pop star?' it was revealed that he was actually a well known country music star of the time- Garth Brooks. He'd slapped on a long-ish wig, struck some moody poses in a photo shoot and put an album out under his psuedonym. The life and popularity of Chris Gaines turned out to be very short-lived, but also put Garth Brooks very much in the spotlight for that time. I'm willing to bet that the stunt was at least a little beneficial to his career.

An Example Of Trickster In Theatre

2005-11-03T16:44:00.000-08:00

Those who have been in classes with me should know that I have a propensity for relating any topic whatsoever to the theatre. Well, I'm going to do it again.

On November 1st I had the pleasure of attending the Talking Book Salon that is sponsored by the MSU English department and is held on the first tuesday of the month. The topic was trickster figures and it was facilitated by Dr. Sexson with the help of his grad students. We were asked to identify trickster figures in film, music, and literature. I submited the Marx Brothers, a group of vaudville actors who made several popular films in the 20's, 30's and 40's. In their films they were constantly deceiving the affluent authority figures, encroaching on the personal space of women, stealing the girl(or at least trying), and somehow getting far more from those around them than they should have gotten. They were highly influential to the art of comedy as we know it. Shades of the Marx Brothers and references to them can be found everywhere, from Woody Allen to The Simpsons to the character of Hawkeye Pierce on M*A*S*H. However, the comedy of the Marx Brothers was nothing new. Long before they appeared on the New York Vaudville scene actors were hamming it up in a form of theatre called Commedia dell' Arte.

Commedia dell' Arte originated in Italy in the mid-1500's and involves a set of stock characters and a combination of formulaic skits called lazzi. The actors were all well-versed in the characters they played and the lazzi were rehearsed extensively. During the course of a show this preparation allowed the actors to abruptly switch to a new lazzi as needed. One example of this is a lazzi that could be turned to if things were not going well and the audience was not enjoying the performance. The lazzi of nightfall was very popular and I'm guessing was pretty much infallible. One actor would indicate that night had suddenly fallen and everyone would procede to lurch their way around bumping into things, mistaking identities and often groping one another. The audience would, of course, be entertained by their antics.

Now, how do I argue that this all ties into the idea of the trickster?

Firstly, trickery abounds in Commedia dell' Arte. A character will pretend to be crazy so that he can freely beat the people around him or a dead character pops up to inform the audience that it is rude to disturb the dead. A character puts on an accent and pretends not to speak English in order to dupe someone out of his money. Over and over the characters are tricked by one another and the audience is tricked by the actors.

Secondly, identities and situations are never solid, certain and expected. In one lazzi two affluent characters hire servants to fight their duel for them. When they all meet to carry out the planned duel it is discovered that the two servants are old friends and have no intention of fighting. Characters change form through magic and also physically twist their bodies into alternate forms. Identical twins are mistaken for one another, usually with one getting the other in trouble.

Thirdly, most lazzi, in some way or another, deal with profane or disgusting acts. The male characters are always trying to get the female characters into bed or at least grope them. Simulated sex acts are common and erections are fair game as well. Enemas, usually unnecesary, are a very popular topic too. In one lazzi a female character is tied to a tree and two drunk male characters, upon discovering her, decide to urinate on the nearest tree... which, of course, is the one she is tied to.

Trickster is a central figure in this form of theatre. The lazzi of Commedia dell' Arte is full of examples of trickery and deception and this form of comedic theatre is a part of the origins of our present day sense of comedy and has informed and helped create many of our present day trickster figures.

Now, give me a topic, any topic, and I'll relate it to the art of theatre!

It's Mine, I Say, It's Mine!

2005-10-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading a book about bookplates. You know, the little cards that are affixed to the inside cover of a book to show ownership. Yes, a whole book about them.

It was an absolutely fascinating book. They are tiny pieces of artwork, often commisioned by well-known artists or lovingly designed by relatives, that show so much about the personality, interests and life of the book owner. They're like personal logos. For instance, Albert Einstein's bookplate perfectly illustrated his constant search for scientific knowledge with drawing of a man standing on a mountain top and reaching up into the swirling cosmos above him. Joan Crawford's showed the narcisism and self-confidence that made her a famous actress by replacing the face of the Venus De Milo with her own(arguably her most valuable asset). Some bookplates showed the owner of the book engaging in their favorite leisure activities, some showed their devotion to their work or their art, and still others were mysteriously personal and difficult to interpret(though I'm sure the owner derived great joy from that miniature exposition of self despite the fact that I don't understand it).

I've been giving the matter a bit of thought lately and I haven't a clue what I would want my own bookplate to look like... however, I've started designing one for my younger sister based on a couple of ideas she gave me in a discussion of the subject. Who knows, maybe it could turn into a Christmas gift. Now, if only I were a better artist...

We'll See...

2005-10-21T09:47:00.000-07:00

As per request I am providing an update on my current work situation.

I went back to my job. Permanently? Hmmm... we'll see. Things are still crazy and pretty stressful at work.

On the upside of things I now have three solid days off each week instead of being on call seven days a week. My work week is now Friday through Monday beginning at 5am and going until whenever I've finished what I need to get done(sometime between 3 and 5pm). Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are all mine to do whatever I want with and you can bet I won't be answering my phone.

Oh, yes and I still have my health insurance.(Yay!!!)

So, what will I do with three days off every week??? I think I might do a bit of reading, writing, sleeping and otherwise relaxing. I won't be worrying about work anyway. Aaaand... I'll probably be able to visit friends and family in Helena on my days off. =)

Work would be great if... no, wait, nevermind.

2005-10-10T20:04:00.000-07:00

I quit. I did it. I've not yet found another job although they are abundant here. My former boss called me this morning to tell me that the schedule I want may actually be okay and I should come and talk to him tomorrow whenever I get up and get going. He sounded really cheerful when I agreed to that. We'll see. I need to think about that a little. We'll see.

Aaaaaaand I'm back. (maybe)

2005-09-08T18:26:00.000-07:00

Wowza. I have not posted in a little over a month. Actually, I've done almost nothing but work for the past month... and it is getting to me. I'm applying for a new job. I've somehow come to a point where the thought of not going into work until 8am, leaving at 5pm, and getting weekends and holidays off is just unbelievable. It seems like it would be heaven. Oh, yes, and being able to use the vacation time I've earned without guilt trips. That would be nice also. Basically, folks, I am tired, depressed and probably on the verge of getting sick and all because of my job. I hate everything.

Passing Afternoon Thoughts

2005-08-03T15:48:00.000-07:00

Come mid to late afternoon I pretty much always just want a snack and a nap. I miss the good old days of middle school when I'd come home and eat a big ol' bowl of popcorn and lay on the couch and read a book. It was wonderful! These days I'm usually rushing off to something as soon as I get home (if I even go home).

Actually, the last couple of days I've sort of resurrected that habit, but with Law & Order instead of a book and no popcorn. I need some popcorn.

Maybe I'll stop at the store on my way home.

Million Dollar Ba.... zzzzzzz...

2005-08-02T14:28:00.000-07:00

I watched Million Dollar Baby last night. I was not, so to speak, all that impressed. I've been wanting to see it since it came out in the theaters and especially since it was nominated for and won several academy awards. It won Best Director(Clint Eastwood), Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor(Morgan Freeman), and Best Actress(Hilary Swank) at the 77th Academy Awards.

The movie had really slow pacing and was repetitive. I commented on how long the movie seemed to be at one point because it felt like I had been watching it for about three hours. I was informed that we were just a little over an hour into the movie. Bleck.

I didn't see any real depth to any of the characters. I didn't feel anything for them. I suspect this may be a combination of bad writing and bad directing. There was nothing new from Morgan Freeman although I know he is quite capable as an actor. Clint Eastwood's character was predictable and I found Hilary Swank's character annoying.

We ended up fast forwarding through part of the end and I didn't feel like I was missing anything. I just didn't care. I really don't understand what all the hype was about. I mean, sure, there was a touching twist at the end, but to really be moved by that you had to be ignoring a lot of basic flaws with the movie.

The next movie I watch had better be a good one! That's all I'm saying!

gah... pain... murp... bleck...

2005-07-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

I have a headache this morning. I had it last night too and I kind of knew I'd still have it this morning. My friend and co-worker Steve gave me some Excedrin for tension headaches and, hopefully, it should kick in soon. Although, the tylenol I took last night didn't do anything at all. I hate this. My eyes feel like they're about to implode and my nose is running because it hurts so much. I keep trying to find cool things to put my throbbing head against. I can't concentrate. Misery. Misery. Misery.

Update: But wait... what's this??? I was temporarily distracted from this post and in that time the Excedrin took effect. I feel wonderful! I feel better than wonderful! I feel spectacular! Oh, what a great day! Yesss!

Gee, thanks Freud...

2005-07-19T12:29:00.000-07:00

Over my lunch break I fell asleep and dreamt a strange dream. Now, if I'd never read anything that good ol' Siggy Freud said about dreams I would have woken up and thought, 'Wow, what a weird dream!' As it stands though, I woke up and realized that some things were, possibly, bothering me a bit more than my conscious mind has been letting on. My subconscious really couldn't have been more blatant about it.

Well, you know what my conscious mind has to say to my subconscious mind? "Quit being such a whiner. Good gods. You'll get over it."

And my conscious mind is right.

Birth Of A New Woman

2005-07-13T11:19:00.000-07:00

Last night I finished reading Wifey by Judy Blume. The story takes place in suburban New York in 1970 and Sandy is tired of being a traditional, submissive wife. She married Norman and had two children mostly because she was expected to. She joined "The Club" and began taking tennis and golf lessons at her husband's insistence. She takes care of the cooking and gives Norm "a little something" on Saturday nights, but she is haunted by the feeling that there should be more to life.

During the course of the story Sandy is sexually awakened and ends up sleeping with her brother-in-law, her best friend's husband and an old flame. She believes that the old flame will leave his wife and marry her and is sorely disappointed when he suggests an arrangement rather than eternal love. Somewhere among this infidelity she contracts gonnorhea which precipitates a confrontation between her and her husband.

In the end Sandy is beginning to make assertive decisions and lines of communication are being opened between her and her husband. She is hopeful. I, however, am skeptical. I don't believe that Norman bringing home a pizza instead of expecting Sandy to cook the day after he hit her and called her a whore is really much of a step forward. Sandy offering to shave her pubic hair to make oral sex more pleasurable to her husband just doesn't seem like much to me. I didn't feel like things had been sufficiently resolved in the end of the book. Even though things seemed to be pointed in the right direction it just didn't seem to me that there was a good enough start.

This being said, I still enjoyed the book very much and was pleased to find that it made me think a bit about my own stances on marriage and monogamy.

It's A Lovely Day For Reading!

2005-07-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a bit strange and depressive yesterday, but a quick trip to the bookstore fixed that. I bought two books(and some dessert), The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis and Wifey by Judy Blume.

The Magician's Nephew is a book I've been meaning to buy for awhile now. I've never read The Chronicles of Narnia and it's about time I started because there is a movie version coming in December of this year and it looks as though it may be quite good. I think I tried to read them when I was younger, but they never quite grabbed my attention. Given my unfailing interest and budding(well, maybe a bit more than budding) expertise in young adult literature the series is a must read for me.

Wifey is not at all like the Judy Blume books I read as a child. I do, however, recognize the same style of writing. Judy Blume does an excellent job of creating very unabashedly real characters and just like I related to the characters in Superfudge and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing as an elementary student I can also relate to her adult characters. I find the main character of Wifey having thoughts that I find familiar, but probably wouldn't openly acknowledge that I'd had them. I find this a little funny because I'm a pretty easy-going, open-book sort of person. It is clear that society has taught me not to talk about some things, though this book might change that a bit. Now I'm a bit more aware that other people are thinking like I do. Wifey can't quite be called a Harlequin romance novel, but it can probably still be classified as trash. In other words, perfect summer reading. I've already read half of it.

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

2005-07-07T10:23:00.000-07:00

This moring I read Ernest Hemingway's short story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. This is a very short story- only a few pages long. As is typical of Hemingway's work the meat of the story is not in what is said, but in the questions and thoughts that are raised in the reader. For me this particular story bred thoughts of aging and my own position in the arch of maturity.

Hemingway's story opens with an old man drinking in a cafe late at night. He likes the cafe at night because it is quiet. The majority of the story is a conversation about the old man that two waiters have, one young and the other older. The younger waiter simply wants the old man to leave so that he can close up the cafe and go home to bed. The older waiter is far more empathetic with the old man. He is concerned about the lonely life the old man lives and the fact that he had tried to kill himself the week before and he understands why the old man stays late in the clean, comfortable cafe. The young waiter doesn't think of the man as being a person, instead he only sees the old man as being a hinderance to his happiness. The older waiter seems to see himself as being not too terribly distant from the position of the old man.

I was reminded of the seven ages of man speech in Shakespeare's As You Like It. The melancholy Jaques maps out seven stages of life, each having its own distinct characteristics. While I don't think that you can delineate the stages of life as clearly as Jaques does, I do believe that they exist and I see these stages of life being lived by the people I know. I think A Clean, Well-Lighted Place reveals the idea that people are more apt to understand those who are in a stage that is close to their own. I, myself, have been accused, by my younger sister, of "crossing over" to adulthood. While this is true in some respects I don't think I've completely left my younger years behind. I remember thinking the way those who are younger than me do, but I very much enjoy my, perhaps, more mature way of thinking.

Anyway, just some thoughts.

Design... Revise... Actualize...

2005-07-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

I feel hopeful today. I have a lot of work to do to get my life in order. I'm mostly a complete mess and I'm not sure why that is. I have "a lot of potential" that I just don't ever seem to get around to using.

Now, how to go about this? Should I make a plan and set goals for myself? Should I hire someone(or find a volunteer) to sort of coach me into being a responsible adult and all that rot? Or should I just jump in with both feet and get to it? I personally like the third option best.

In any case, I feel hopeful today.

Cloudy

2005-06-29T14:32:00.000-07:00

I just spent a few minutes with my head craned back watching the weather work its way around the sky. Cloudy weather is something that is often used as an ominous sign in literature. Hmmm... pathetic fallacy.(Thanks Steve, I will never forget that again.) Funerals in films are often accompanied by rain storms, etc., etc. While watching the clouds this afternoon a thought occured to me: this idea of cloudy, rainy weather being indicative of sadness is, at least in my world, fundamentally untrue. Those clouds swirling above me were so full of life, so full of change. Cloudy weather always imbues me with a restless energy and the question 'what comes next?'. There is no dark shadow hanging over me. Those clouds are moving, changing, and heavy with life. Beautiful.

My Life As A Musical

2005-06-28T15:52:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to the same sappy, sentimental soundtrack all day and I think that I'm going to end up spending a ridiculous amount of time putting together a playlist to fit my sappy, sentimental mood. Sometimes I imagine that my life has a soundtrack... and sometimes I imagine a life to fit the music I'm listening to. The latter of the two is much more fun.

I once saw a collection of stories in a bookstore that were all inspired by songs. And by 'saw' I mean I read half of it. It was interesting and I've often thought of doing the same. Hmmm... perhaps I should.

Coming Soon! A Story Inspired By Song!

Promise

2005-06-28T14:26:00.000-07:00

I am finishing the book I'm reading TODAY! End of story.

On Accomplishment

2005-06-20T14:11:00.000-07:00

I don't know about other people, but I know that a good portion of my happiness depends very much on what I've accomplished. If I don't feel like I've accomplished enough I plummet into an awful, sticky depression. This is also tricky because even when I've accomplished something I tend to feel that what I've done isn't quite good enough and that is just as bad as not having done it at all. Likewise, if my accomplishment lacks tangible evidence of its existence it is the same as if I've accomplished nothing. This all means I'm very easily thrust into the throes of despair.

Why am I mentioning this? I am mentioning this because I can see clearly that I'm going to have to get something palpable done soon lest I'll be sucked into those murky depths of melancholia. I'm not saying I've not accomplished anything as of late... it's just that I haven't anything to show for what I've built. I need to be able to hand something to someone and say, "Look what I can do!".

That having been said: what I really want to do right now is take a nap... however, I think I'm going to do some reading so that I can say that I finished a book. Maybe I'll even write a bit about it. That will keep me from feeling like an utter failure!

Time Flies...

2005-06-20T08:15:00.000-07:00

They say time flies when you're having fun and, of course, it's true. Time has been just wooshing by lately. The past week has taken mere minutes to disappear but, at the same time, so much has happened that it seems like at least a month has passed. It's been a little bitter sweet, this furious flying of time, however, my life feels very lived right now and I like that a lot. Somewhere along the line I started to enjoy both the ups and downs of life rather than waiting around for the ups. There's a lot more to enjoy that way.

One Poem

2005-06-15T17:09:00.000-07:00

My Old Friend Experience

I took a long, hot shower,
And put on my virginal, white panties
Today is a new day,
I can start clean and fresh
Innocent.
On second thought,
I'll wear black

O, genuine dawning of day, thou hast touched my heart and head!

2005-06-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

This appeared with the sun this morning and should be fun to play with and expand on. I attribute its existence to a bit of manic enjoyment of Shakespeare last night.

Beware! This angel flies to thee and wouldst, if she could, cover thee in kisses sweet as wine and a love as solid as granite. There hast never been a truer being than she, nor a more passionate creature. There is a light in her eyes that shines rolling and liquid like mercury and will poison your blood with but a drop. The aching pain that follows will encompass your every waking moment and infect your dreams like a plague. But, soft, this pain will be as lovely and warm as a newborn babe and thou wilst learn to crave the comfortable death that pulls at your limbs. As swiftly as she has let this love seep from her finger tips, she will be gone. You'll want nothing more than to press your palm to hers and feel that surge of life and lust that so freely flowed before, but she was only yours for a moment and belongs to herself for eternity. You cannot have all that she contains, yet somehow, miraculously, you will find that all she is has found its place within your heart. Do not despair! She will have taught thee how to love with a passion that cannot be surpassed. If thou art faint of heart do not embark upon this journey. This road is long and will make you weary, but the reward is the greatest you will ever be granted.

"Aye, there's the rub."

2005-06-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

Life is so complicated! I love that sooo much! We love people that maybe we shouldn't, the ones we love don't love us back, we're tricked into loving someone we didn't mean to love, we can't always trust, families are never perfect, people die much too young, personal vendettas mute common sense and yes, sometimes you have to wonder if your uncle killed your father. The loose ends of life never really seem to tie themselves up very neatly and just when one problem is solved you notice that something else has been steadily unraveling. Aye, there's the rub! However, it's wonderful fun, these ups and downs.

I could probably write a bit about the conflicts in my life that planted this seed of thought, but I think I'll let those thoughts grow a bit. The words will be prettier when they blossom. Instead, I will do something that unnerves me a bit. I will share a bit of creative writing.

This Poem Isn't About You

I have a need,
Not even to know you,
Entirely
Just to taste you

There is a sweetness that lies
Just below your surface,
Underneath that mottled rind
And pith
Washes that delicate drink
That I have divined

I want to drink 'til drunk

The need to taste appulses in my chest,
Volitates wildly within my ribs
If my thirst is not quenched with
The tiniest of tastes
You will haunt me
Like hidden treasure
and secret caves

The Scent of a Woman

2005-06-08T14:31:00.000-07:00

Not long ago a friend of mine mentioned that I have a "pleasant smell", which was very nice of him, however, I never realized that he'd ever been close enough to me to pick up a scent. I immediately had images of him as a surreptitious sniffer leaning over and inhaling deeply while I'm momentarily distracted. After the initial shock, I realized that this probably wasn't the case and even if it was, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest.

I decided to share the story with my sister because she thinks much the way I do and I thought she'd be amused by the tale of the surreptitious sniffer... but, the hilarity of my ridiculous imaginings was completely lost on her. She was too busy heartily agreeing with the sniffer. According to her: Yes. I do have a pleasant smell. Not only that but, it is a very distinct smell that is quite noticeable. She insisted that she could walk into a room filled with clothing and be able to pick out the pieces that were mine.

At this point the original surreptitious sniffer was swiftlyswept from my mind by an image of my sister stealing shirts from my closet and burying her nose in them. This, I must admit, was even more unnerving... and it got worse. Almost as soon as the original had been replaced by my sister in my wild imaginings, a new image flooded my brain. In this picture both the surreptitious sniffer and my sister were present. They were having coffee. However, the coffee was being completely forgotten in the wake of their intent conversation about my smell.

Eventually I returned to reality and when I did I began to wonder about the science of scent. I'd seen a television show on the Discovery Channel, PBS, or the like about a study that was done where women were asked to sniff t-shirts that men had worn to sleep for a week. The outcome was that women seemed to prefer the scent of men who had immune systems that were the opposite of their own. I assume that this is nature's way of making sure there is always one parent that is healthy enough to take care of the offspring. The women found the scents of men who had the same sort of immune systems to be more like the scent of their brothers or fathers. I wonder if my sister, perhaps, finds my scent more noticeable than that of others due to a combination of familiarity and the fact that I have a different father than she. Does the immune system theory work conversely with men prefering the scent of women who will stay healthy when they are sick? Whose smell do I prefer? Do I more readily notice the smell of some people? Do I dislike the smell of people I dislike?

In any case, I am newly interested in the science of scent and am devouring information about pheromones and what not. Very interesting stuff. You'll probably hear more later.

And don't be alarmed if you notice that I've become a surreptitious sniffer.

One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry. -Oscar Wilde

2005-06-06T12:28:00.000-07:00

Recently there have been a few men in my life who are interesting, handsome, smart, funny and seem to enjoy my company. We get along spectacularly and have friendships that could probably pretty easily move into a long term relationship. I like them. All of them.

However, I like being single too. I am enthralled with the possibilities and opportunities that I might have because I'm not tied down to a boyfriend. I love developing little crushes on people on a daily basis(I guess having a boyfriend really wouldn't change that). If I had a boyfriend, Prince Charming couldn't swoop in at any moment and sweep me off my feet. I'm only responsible for myself and to myself. I'm perfectly free to have male friends and flirt with them horribly without the risk of making someone jealous. There are no fights. That's a big one right there. I don't have to worry about or plan for the future because it is just mine. There are sooooo many reasons so stay single.

That having been said, if the opportunity becomes immanent, I'm sure I'll end up with a boyfriend of some sort. We'll just have to wait and see.

hmmm... a blog.

2005-05-16T21:34:00.000-07:00

Well then, here I go. I've joined the masses. We'll see where this leads... if anywhere.

My thoughts today:

I have a story that needs to be written... a novel perhaps. I need to get on that, make myself an honest woman. I was born bound to creativity and I need to live that life instead of fearing it. The words have been rolling around in my head for so long.

I have stories(plural) that need to be written. If I am being honest.

I would like so much to disassociate myself from part of my family. It is so difficult and frustrating trying to be a part of their world, especially when they've never been a part of mine. Do I have to call them family? Sometimes I resolve not bother with it anymore, but it wouldn't be fair to those kids. Maybe someday it will feel more like they're actually my siblings. Besides, I've been trying for so long I don't think I know how to stop.

Today was painful though. I must admit it hurt.