Another project, once I land with all of my things in one place, will be to organize my writing. I must credit Azeiba for planting this idea. Creative people lap up praise like manna.
That said. Send out for publication the stories already published. Begin to work on revising that which needs revision. Revisit journals, gather ideas. Create the short story collection, draft it out, fill in the pieces. Write. Contact agent.
I used to have a system for this. I will have it again. I miss writing.
5.31.2007
I Want a Divorce from Microsoft
It's over. I hate the new Hotmail, Messenger is all crashy, and the word on the yard is that Vista is a trainwreck. Further proof the apocalypse approaches? Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, nemeses, made a rare public appearance today. Could there be a merger afoot?
I'll tell you what, the next computer I buy will be a Mac.
I'll tell you what, the next computer I buy will be a Mac.
5.30.2007
A Vindication of MySpace
There has been much ado about MySpace and the vulnerability of teenagers to predators lurking there. This is certainly an unfortunate circumstance, but not one that is limited to MySpace. Not by a long shot. Of course, it's easier to blame MySpace than parenting. Especially when for many parents, MySpace is part of the vast Information Revolution, of which the less they know the better they feel.
I would instead like to posit the view of an adult woman who has been fortunate enough to travel and live in many different places. One challenge to having had this lifestyle, however, is all the disparate threads that tie you to those places. For instance, I Skype daily with Amity. Daily, or pretty close. She lives in Maine. I haven't lived in Maine in 7 years. But we're that close. On my MSN Messenger Contact List, I have friends from Washington State to Maine and from England to Peru.
Likewise, the virtual metropolis of MySpace helps stitch these threads into the fabric of the greater communications network. The GREATEST communications network. There's no limit to it. And once you tap in, you connect to people you know, who connect to people you know, and so on, until your threads tighten into the gorgeous tapestry that is your life. And fittingly, the richness of that cloth depends precisely upon what you weave into it.
I'm ruminating on MySpace because it has come through for me once again, gentle loom. First it started as a lark with the Rat Pack, we all had profiles and left comments about the pictures of our crazy nights out drinking outside Chicago. But soon I began connecting to people from Rhode Island, Maine, Iowa. Of the many truly delightful connections, I reunited with Shannon, a close friend through grades 7-12 who nearly vanished after high school. We hadn't spoken in 10 years when we reconnected through a mutual friend from high school on MySpace. And that's just one example. I could go on.
But the one reconnection that has had me reeling this week is Matt, a good friend and former classmate in English from college. He's married, has two boys. His wife, my friend Amy, is dying of cancer. Imminently. I was at their wedding 10 years ago, took their pictures. Enjoyed many a dinner party and poetry discussion with them. I met Amy when she was in her pajamas in Dorward Hall. She is a complete sparkplug. Everything that word connotes in a girl.
And that's really it. My good friend Matt, with whom I'd lost touch after my bitter exodus from Maine, found me through MySpace in time to reach out. He and Amy are one of the threads that's pulling me home. From emailing I knew Amy was sick, but Matt called me on Monday to tell me how she's turned. I told Matt I'd like to come up and visit if Amy is up for it. I had invited the whole family to come to RI, and I reminded him the invitation was still good. He said, yeah. But for after . . . Because it is that close.
So you see, I get to say goodbye to a dear friend. For though she's somewhat long-lost, Amy is dear to me. She adopts pugs and cats with feline leukemia. She graduated from NYU's School of Social Work and came to Downeast Maine to be with the poet she loves. She is a militant vegetarian, in the absolute cutest way. She even got me to eat soy bacon. And like it. She loves her boys. And it all just doesn't seem possible.
Without MySpace, this thread would have been lost. So so SO many of the threads in my life would be lost without this technology, be it MSN, MySpace, Flickr, Skype, even Blogger. To the few of you who read this blog, we have a thread. And maybe that matters. I know that when I read on Susan Miller's horoscope blog (see links to the right) that her "Little Mom" was dying, I was gripped and saddened. I sent an email of condolences. Yes, I'm a dork, but I read that woman's work faithfully. I care about what happens to her.
I sense sometimes that some people scoff at the idea of virtual communities. But the thing is, it's not the connections between the people that are virtual. There's nothing virtual about the "virtual" world. It's now more real than reality sometimes. It's certainly as mundane a part of reality as is reality, isn't it? But the reality is that my friend Amy is dying. And out of a "virtual" space came a connection that yielded something that is beyond real.
I would instead like to posit the view of an adult woman who has been fortunate enough to travel and live in many different places. One challenge to having had this lifestyle, however, is all the disparate threads that tie you to those places. For instance, I Skype daily with Amity. Daily, or pretty close. She lives in Maine. I haven't lived in Maine in 7 years. But we're that close. On my MSN Messenger Contact List, I have friends from Washington State to Maine and from England to Peru.
Likewise, the virtual metropolis of MySpace helps stitch these threads into the fabric of the greater communications network. The GREATEST communications network. There's no limit to it. And once you tap in, you connect to people you know, who connect to people you know, and so on, until your threads tighten into the gorgeous tapestry that is your life. And fittingly, the richness of that cloth depends precisely upon what you weave into it.
I'm ruminating on MySpace because it has come through for me once again, gentle loom. First it started as a lark with the Rat Pack, we all had profiles and left comments about the pictures of our crazy nights out drinking outside Chicago. But soon I began connecting to people from Rhode Island, Maine, Iowa. Of the many truly delightful connections, I reunited with Shannon, a close friend through grades 7-12 who nearly vanished after high school. We hadn't spoken in 10 years when we reconnected through a mutual friend from high school on MySpace. And that's just one example. I could go on.
But the one reconnection that has had me reeling this week is Matt, a good friend and former classmate in English from college. He's married, has two boys. His wife, my friend Amy, is dying of cancer. Imminently. I was at their wedding 10 years ago, took their pictures. Enjoyed many a dinner party and poetry discussion with them. I met Amy when she was in her pajamas in Dorward Hall. She is a complete sparkplug. Everything that word connotes in a girl.
And that's really it. My good friend Matt, with whom I'd lost touch after my bitter exodus from Maine, found me through MySpace in time to reach out. He and Amy are one of the threads that's pulling me home. From emailing I knew Amy was sick, but Matt called me on Monday to tell me how she's turned. I told Matt I'd like to come up and visit if Amy is up for it. I had invited the whole family to come to RI, and I reminded him the invitation was still good. He said, yeah. But for after . . . Because it is that close.
So you see, I get to say goodbye to a dear friend. For though she's somewhat long-lost, Amy is dear to me. She adopts pugs and cats with feline leukemia. She graduated from NYU's School of Social Work and came to Downeast Maine to be with the poet she loves. She is a militant vegetarian, in the absolute cutest way. She even got me to eat soy bacon. And like it. She loves her boys. And it all just doesn't seem possible.
Without MySpace, this thread would have been lost. So so SO many of the threads in my life would be lost without this technology, be it MSN, MySpace, Flickr, Skype, even Blogger. To the few of you who read this blog, we have a thread. And maybe that matters. I know that when I read on Susan Miller's horoscope blog (see links to the right) that her "Little Mom" was dying, I was gripped and saddened. I sent an email of condolences. Yes, I'm a dork, but I read that woman's work faithfully. I care about what happens to her.
I sense sometimes that some people scoff at the idea of virtual communities. But the thing is, it's not the connections between the people that are virtual. There's nothing virtual about the "virtual" world. It's now more real than reality sometimes. It's certainly as mundane a part of reality as is reality, isn't it? But the reality is that my friend Amy is dying. And out of a "virtual" space came a connection that yielded something that is beyond real.
miss potato head
my AMAZING AMITY. Click on this image and check out her Flickr Photostream. She's on fi-ya!
5.29.2007
Sea Glass
I've always gathered sea glass during my walks on the beach. Now that I'm living here, I have already amassed quite a bit of it in just a few days. This morning I went out and gathered two handfuls --- so much that I had to create a little hammock using my sweatshirt so I could open the front door when I got home.
There are lots of things I could do with it I suppose: mosaics on table tops, mirrors, picture frames. Make earrings or rings or necklaces. I'd have to learn how to make jewelry first I suppose. I want to think of something to do with it that relates to what sea glass symbolizes. Shards of glass are inherently dangerous, but the ocean tumbles away those sharp edges and leaves something beautiful and harmless. I love the way that nature is, in this case, stronger than the impact of our broken beer bottles, and how she neutralizes that impact.
Other things I found on the beach this morning, but did not take, were a child's orthodontic retainer the nastiest pinky-red color I've ever seen, and a gorgeous red starfish that had washed up. It was hard to leave the starfish, but since I had pretty well picked clean Scarborough Beach of its sea glass, I figured I should leave something behind.
5.28.2007
Project Idea
A Chronology of Images from places I've lived and the work I've done there. Some text, but more in terms of text-as-image. The Chronology has a narrative arc: the domiciles and what I did in them. How does that evolve? Think of the Flickr Badges, and organize a set in Flickr to build the narrative.
Second phase will be to set up my studio space and finally integrate all of the pieces in one space, where I can organize and cull and build the archive alongside the tools I need to continue to work. During that organization process, more images will enter the first draft, via Flickr.
Fold in Blog entries. We're closing in on 400 and counting.
Contact agent in NYC who contacted me 5 years ago after reading a short story I wrote in a literary journal. Integrate marketing: books have total content, while gallery show feature select content from the books. Create deluxe editions with the full-size original presentation pieces.
Contact UICB and see about maybe finishing that Graduate Certificate.
Second phase will be to set up my studio space and finally integrate all of the pieces in one space, where I can organize and cull and build the archive alongside the tools I need to continue to work. During that organization process, more images will enter the first draft, via Flickr.
Fold in Blog entries. We're closing in on 400 and counting.
Contact agent in NYC who contacted me 5 years ago after reading a short story I wrote in a literary journal. Integrate marketing: books have total content, while gallery show feature select content from the books. Create deluxe editions with the full-size original presentation pieces.
Contact UICB and see about maybe finishing that Graduate Certificate.
The Etymology of "Gaspee"
As you know, my new residence is on Gaspee Road. Now, the word has some obviously rude connotations to it (ask any 5th grader), being the seeming compound of two words related to relieving oneself: gas and pee. But the word actually relates to an amazing story from the Revolutionary War.
The British Crown sent the HMS Gaspee to Rhode Island in order to attempt to enforce a revenue tax that the colonists refused to pay. The ship was most likely named for the Gaspe Peninsula in Quebec. On June 9-10, 1772, the Rhode Islanders did battle with the Gaspee and won. They stormed the ship and burned it. This weekend is the start of the Gaspee Days festival here in RI, where we celebrate the victory and the burning of the ship.
For more information on all things Gaspee, visit the Gaspee archives via this link.
I find it remarkable that the event is still celebrated more than some 235 years later. But it's also very much in keeping with the great big personality of this, the tiniest state in the USA. Rhode Island was founded in 1636 by Roger Williams, after he was kicked out of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and headed south to do his own thing and create a place dedicated to religious and personal freedom. Rhode Island has been from its inception a strong-willed, independent, and even sometimes contrary little place. For example, we were the last to ratify the first constitution, at the barrel of a gun, by the way, to become the 13th state.
I love the defiant history of this state, and how proud of it we are. It's cool living on a street with a weird name and a great story behind it.
The British Crown sent the HMS Gaspee to Rhode Island in order to attempt to enforce a revenue tax that the colonists refused to pay. The ship was most likely named for the Gaspe Peninsula in Quebec. On June 9-10, 1772, the Rhode Islanders did battle with the Gaspee and won. They stormed the ship and burned it. This weekend is the start of the Gaspee Days festival here in RI, where we celebrate the victory and the burning of the ship.
For more information on all things Gaspee, visit the Gaspee archives via this link.
I find it remarkable that the event is still celebrated more than some 235 years later. But it's also very much in keeping with the great big personality of this, the tiniest state in the USA. Rhode Island was founded in 1636 by Roger Williams, after he was kicked out of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and headed south to do his own thing and create a place dedicated to religious and personal freedom. Rhode Island has been from its inception a strong-willed, independent, and even sometimes contrary little place. For example, we were the last to ratify the first constitution, at the barrel of a gun, by the way, to become the 13th state.
I love the defiant history of this state, and how proud of it we are. It's cool living on a street with a weird name and a great story behind it.
Je Suis Arrivee
After a fair hiatus from blogging, I write this post on a Memorial Day Monday from the sitting room of the beach house on Gaspee Road. Relocating was quite a feat, but it's pretty much done now. I'll need to get my furniture and other belongings once the condo is sold, but until then, the Illinois abode is closed up and ready to seduce its next owner.
The craziness started about ten days ago, on the 18th, when Pats and I flew from Chicago with the two cats. Our getting out here was a frustrating comedy of errors that resulted in our arrival in Boston at 1 am Saturday. Final grades for CTU were late (oops) and had to be posted, so it was after 5 am before I slept. Saturday we rested, but that night was the fabulous 70's party and another near-5 am bedtime. Sunday we were comatose, Monday we returned to Chicago. My dad flew in on Tuesday and we began cleaning, packing, touching up paint, and finally got on the road around 10:30 am on Wednesday. We drove to Western Pennsylvania that day, then finished the trip on Thursday, arriving in RI around 5 pm. And it's been on ever since: visiting, running errands, hosting, unpacking, etc.
Erin and Nick and Bridget visited yesterday from New Bedford, and I'm heading to my mother's this afternoon for a cook-out with her sister's family from DC. I've had some lovely walks on the beach, ate delicious seafood, played wiffle ball. My brother and his friends were around most of the weekend, crashing here and taking the boat out to try to earn some money from fishing. Yesterday was the best day, but it only brought in $42.
So the place just opens up and there you are, right back in it. I feel blessed to have this house: I've always walked by charming little beachside cottages in New England and wished that I got to live in one. Now I do. The idea that this house might be torn down kills me, so I've begun investigating what it would cost to move it. I found a couple lots, reasonably priced and within reasonable distance to move the house. My aunt offered the use of a lot she owns, but it's in Chepachet, a good 40 miles from here down windy country roads. Too far. If I can get South Kingstown or Narragansett, it just might work.
Not only is it charming to look at, but this little house has the best energy to it. And I want to share it as much as I can. People enjoy themselves here, are happy, sleep well. My cats are like new people, so to speak. Having ruled the roost in Palatine, Coco is now very insecure and skittish. But Mojo's eyes are bright and alert. She sits by the screen door begging to be let outside. She loves the birds and the fresh air and all the people around all the time. They both love the narrow little staircase to the upstairs bedroom where they hide under the beds.
There is still much settling in to do, and I am well aware that the first halcyon days over a holiday weekend are the honeymoon period. And that it will end. I miss Chicago, but right now it's only abstractly. I'm looking forward to tomorrow and the start of a new work week, CTU and the law practice, dinner with Kristen some time this week. My mother just called to ask me to bring some mustard and the wiffle ball and bat, and to let me know that I can come over at any time. Gotta hit the shower and tidy up a bit more around here first. So as you can see, I'm stitching back into life in Rhode Island and it's relatively sans effort.
The craziness started about ten days ago, on the 18th, when Pats and I flew from Chicago with the two cats. Our getting out here was a frustrating comedy of errors that resulted in our arrival in Boston at 1 am Saturday. Final grades for CTU were late (oops) and had to be posted, so it was after 5 am before I slept. Saturday we rested, but that night was the fabulous 70's party and another near-5 am bedtime. Sunday we were comatose, Monday we returned to Chicago. My dad flew in on Tuesday and we began cleaning, packing, touching up paint, and finally got on the road around 10:30 am on Wednesday. We drove to Western Pennsylvania that day, then finished the trip on Thursday, arriving in RI around 5 pm. And it's been on ever since: visiting, running errands, hosting, unpacking, etc.
Erin and Nick and Bridget visited yesterday from New Bedford, and I'm heading to my mother's this afternoon for a cook-out with her sister's family from DC. I've had some lovely walks on the beach, ate delicious seafood, played wiffle ball. My brother and his friends were around most of the weekend, crashing here and taking the boat out to try to earn some money from fishing. Yesterday was the best day, but it only brought in $42.
So the place just opens up and there you are, right back in it. I feel blessed to have this house: I've always walked by charming little beachside cottages in New England and wished that I got to live in one. Now I do. The idea that this house might be torn down kills me, so I've begun investigating what it would cost to move it. I found a couple lots, reasonably priced and within reasonable distance to move the house. My aunt offered the use of a lot she owns, but it's in Chepachet, a good 40 miles from here down windy country roads. Too far. If I can get South Kingstown or Narragansett, it just might work.
Not only is it charming to look at, but this little house has the best energy to it. And I want to share it as much as I can. People enjoy themselves here, are happy, sleep well. My cats are like new people, so to speak. Having ruled the roost in Palatine, Coco is now very insecure and skittish. But Mojo's eyes are bright and alert. She sits by the screen door begging to be let outside. She loves the birds and the fresh air and all the people around all the time. They both love the narrow little staircase to the upstairs bedroom where they hide under the beds.
There is still much settling in to do, and I am well aware that the first halcyon days over a holiday weekend are the honeymoon period. And that it will end. I miss Chicago, but right now it's only abstractly. I'm looking forward to tomorrow and the start of a new work week, CTU and the law practice, dinner with Kristen some time this week. My mother just called to ask me to bring some mustard and the wiffle ball and bat, and to let me know that I can come over at any time. Gotta hit the shower and tidy up a bit more around here first. So as you can see, I'm stitching back into life in Rhode Island and it's relatively sans effort.
5.17.2007
SUCH a Gemini
Before you scoff, I think there is something to astrology. Case in point: I am a Gemini, the sign of the twins. My sign's characteristics are versatility, adaptability, and yes, sometimes bipolar neurosis :)
I bring this up because of my current mental state. I feel very zen, so don't panic. But I'm leaving Illinois and it doesn't feel real. Like really? I'm leaving? Hmm. I think my condo is the kicker. I love this place, the sunlight and hardwoods and the pond. It's strange to think that very soon it won't be mine.
I think it's the Gemini polarity. One twin is here, the other in RI. They're both cool. It's beyond liminal now and just surreal. But this is what change is about, what growth is about. And I'm keeping it in balance.
I bring this up because of my current mental state. I feel very zen, so don't panic. But I'm leaving Illinois and it doesn't feel real. Like really? I'm leaving? Hmm. I think my condo is the kicker. I love this place, the sunlight and hardwoods and the pond. It's strange to think that very soon it won't be mine.
I think it's the Gemini polarity. One twin is here, the other in RI. They're both cool. It's beyond liminal now and just surreal. But this is what change is about, what growth is about. And I'm keeping it in balance.
5.16.2007
Mom and Me
My second birthday, and something has me very happy. Evidently this makes my mom happy too. She was not quite 25 when this picture was taken. It still blows my mind how young my parents were when they got married and started their family.
At any rate, our birthdays are next month. Here, we're both happy. Here's to many more happy times.
Reckoning
I don't normally rejoice in the passing away of most human beings, but Jerry Falwell was NOT a human being. The son of a bitch died yesterday at 73 and finally got to hear from the good Lord himself that the Reverend's lifetime of hatred and bigotry in the name of "Christianity" was, in fact, WRONG.
The Morning Fix on Q101 played a satirical song this morning, set to the Village People's "YMCA", in which Falwell arrives in Heaven to find a gay St. Peter and a raging discotheque beyond the Pearly Gates. If Heaven is in fact a gay discotheque, I'm even MORE excited about getting there.
The idea though remains the same. If you ARE in fact a Christian, you know that Jesus loved everyone. EVERYONE. I have to believe that hatemongers like Falwell, who SOMEHOW gather a following, must pay a penance for the wrongs they have committed in the name of God.
Seven-three years of anti-Christian Christianity did plenty of damage, but that's over. Eternity for Falwell began yesterday, and that discotheque is open all night long.
The Morning Fix on Q101 played a satirical song this morning, set to the Village People's "YMCA", in which Falwell arrives in Heaven to find a gay St. Peter and a raging discotheque beyond the Pearly Gates. If Heaven is in fact a gay discotheque, I'm even MORE excited about getting there.
The idea though remains the same. If you ARE in fact a Christian, you know that Jesus loved everyone. EVERYONE. I have to believe that hatemongers like Falwell, who SOMEHOW gather a following, must pay a penance for the wrongs they have committed in the name of God.
Seven-three years of anti-Christian Christianity did plenty of damage, but that's over. Eternity for Falwell began yesterday, and that discotheque is open all night long.
5.15.2007
Liminal
lim·i·nal (lm-nl)
adj.
Relating to a threshold.
Sounds about right. I leave Friday for home, but I'm using these last few days here to wrap things up. Workwise, I busted it OUT and got all of the final grades turned in for CLC (yesterday) and OCC (today). Plus live chats yesterday morning, the last ones for this abominal term at CTU. It's a major weight off my shoulders, but I still have to come up with something for my independent study with Dr. Mbilizi. Due today. It's now 4 pm. Eh, it's early still.
But I'm in that weird liminal place where I really feel like I'm sitting on a threshold. I'm not completely still here, but Lord knows I'm not there yet. So I hear the divine Miss Kate, in my wilder years, reminding me to live in the moment. God Bless her, I have internalized that voice. So I do mundane things like buy rainboots to wear in the garden or go to a dentist appointment on Thursday morning.
These finite in-between times are like roads. We spend time passing THROUGH them, rather than IN them. I suppose if you spend too much time IN the road, you'd get run over by people who ARE on their way somewhere. But how often do we consider the road for the road itself? It's a means to an end, a thru-way.
And yet there are things to learn and appreciate as the landscape flies past your window. So it's Tuesday. I'm in RI from Friday to Monday with Pats, then Dad flies in on Tuesday afternoon. We're driving back to RI together on Wednesday and Thursday. I'll be home in time for Memorial Day Weekend. Amity is coming down, Erin and Bridget are coming in for a day, and the Tipton/Varrieur clan will be up from DC. Sam's 9th birthday is this Sunday, so I'm sure we'll celebrate next week.
So you see, I'm diving right in. Just not yet.
adj.
Relating to a threshold.
Sounds about right. I leave Friday for home, but I'm using these last few days here to wrap things up. Workwise, I busted it OUT and got all of the final grades turned in for CLC (yesterday) and OCC (today). Plus live chats yesterday morning, the last ones for this abominal term at CTU. It's a major weight off my shoulders, but I still have to come up with something for my independent study with Dr. Mbilizi. Due today. It's now 4 pm. Eh, it's early still.
But I'm in that weird liminal place where I really feel like I'm sitting on a threshold. I'm not completely still here, but Lord knows I'm not there yet. So I hear the divine Miss Kate, in my wilder years, reminding me to live in the moment. God Bless her, I have internalized that voice. So I do mundane things like buy rainboots to wear in the garden or go to a dentist appointment on Thursday morning.
These finite in-between times are like roads. We spend time passing THROUGH them, rather than IN them. I suppose if you spend too much time IN the road, you'd get run over by people who ARE on their way somewhere. But how often do we consider the road for the road itself? It's a means to an end, a thru-way.
And yet there are things to learn and appreciate as the landscape flies past your window. So it's Tuesday. I'm in RI from Friday to Monday with Pats, then Dad flies in on Tuesday afternoon. We're driving back to RI together on Wednesday and Thursday. I'll be home in time for Memorial Day Weekend. Amity is coming down, Erin and Bridget are coming in for a day, and the Tipton/Varrieur clan will be up from DC. Sam's 9th birthday is this Sunday, so I'm sure we'll celebrate next week.
So you see, I'm diving right in. Just not yet.
5.14.2007
Guardian "Angel"
Ms. Farrah Fawcett (then -Majors) in "Logan's Run." She is the high priestess of 70's sex appeal.
I'm researching feathered hair styles for the 70's party Arik is throwing in Boston this weekend. Mike, Neil, Patsy and I are heading to the festivities and costumes are required. I'm inordinately psyched about the opportunity to feather my hair. I also had a lot of fun brainstorming on 70's-themed door prizes and trying to learn the Hustle.
Awwwwww yeah!
5.13.2007
A Good Team
He'll probably kill me for this, but this is my brother Mike and me on the first day of school in 1994. I was a senior, he was a sophomore, and the car in back is our 1987 Pontiac Grand Am. Amity lured me on to my MySpace account tonight and this is one of the pix I have posted there. I thought I'd post it.
Mike and I are only 15 months apart, and I don't remember anything before him. I used to say that we are very different, but as we get older I realize that we're more and more alike despite our differences. He's one of the biggest reasons I'm looking forward to moving home. And ladies, take it from me. He was cute as a puke teenager, but he's grown up nicely since then ;) My clothes have gotten better, but I think I still look the same. At least I hope I do.
To "Quiet Observer"
I just received a lovely comment on my last post from "quiet observer." Obviously I respect your anonymity, but I wanted to thank you for your kind words. And of course I wish I did know your identity so I could thank you personally, but that's your call. You know how to find me :)
Great Wave by Hokusai
This little woodcut is one of his "36 Views of Mt. Fuji" from the 1820's. I love how prominent is the wave and how perilous is the situation for that long boat in the foreground, yet the picture is ostensibly a view of Mt. Fuji, which is dwarfed in the background.
5.12.2007
New Tattoo
Stupid Photoshop isn't cooperating, so this is untouched. It's also shiny because of the medicated ointment.
That said, yesterday I got a new tattoo. It's technically my third, though the second one (compass) is covering up the first (yin yang) which looked like a prison tattoo. We added some more white to the remaining black ink from the old yin yang yesterday.
AND I now have a fun French kitty on the back of my left arm, just above the elbow. She's about 3 inches tall. Esther, my AMAZING tattooist, is truly a genius. And we had a great time. I have a pair of underwear (believe it or not) that had this silhouette. Esther added the eyes. She's designing a painterly abstract horse for my right lower forearm (though the location might change). We also talked about doing a companion to this tattoo, a boy cat on the back of my right arm, smoking a long cigarette holder and wearing a red beret.
Tattoos are dangerous because once you get one you really want more. I decided to get this one for a few reasons. I loved the design, obviously. It's also very symbolic of me and my life. I have two cats, I love to travel (she feels French to me) and I'm a little bit of a kitten myself. Plus I wanted a piece that was more visible. I adore rocking my back tattoo during the summertime, but it remains hidden for most of the year. It is time to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak, and commit more to wearing my ink.
At the same time though, I still think it's important to be able to cover it. So this is halfway between the back and the forearm. We'll see how it goes. The horse might end up on my right hip. But for now, I love this piece and though it's only been 24 hours, it feels right.
5.11.2007
The Killers Live at the Sears Centre
Despite the suckiness of having gotten pulled over on my way to the show, the Killers concert was amazing last night. A-maaaa-zing. So much energy, great staging and lights, and the music was so tight. I actually got online today to figure out if I could make it to another one of their shows. They're heading West in the next couple weeks and then touring Europe this summer. Pats and I are talking about a trip to Europe for her birthday, so if it works out I want to see them again. They were that good.
Some of the highlights included "Chicago" (My Kind of Town) and very solid performances of their hits, from "Mr. Brightside", "Read My Mind" and "When You Were Young". Also, at the opening, they played a video montage of images from the cover art on their second album, "Sam's Town". Images like the ram, the beauty queen, the black balloons, and the Western desert landscape recur in the videos and cover art. I loved the visual self-references. The best though was the last full song of the encore, my favorite Killers song, "All These Things That I've Done." My only complaint is that they didn't perform "Change Your Mind", a terrific track from their first album "Hot Fuss."
A solid and very new-age band called The Red Romance opened the show. They sounded incredibly retro, but had a good sound. Pats enjoyed the show, and it was cool for me to see the Killers at the Sears Centre. When I was in corporate at CTU, I could see the building out my office window and I watched the whole thing being constructed from start to finish. The venue itself is just alright, nothing fancy, and the seat aisles are entirely too narrow.
Nevertheless, I was already a pretty big fan. But after seeing the Killers live, I can guarantee I'll see them again.
Some of the highlights included "Chicago" (My Kind of Town) and very solid performances of their hits, from "Mr. Brightside", "Read My Mind" and "When You Were Young". Also, at the opening, they played a video montage of images from the cover art on their second album, "Sam's Town". Images like the ram, the beauty queen, the black balloons, and the Western desert landscape recur in the videos and cover art. I loved the visual self-references. The best though was the last full song of the encore, my favorite Killers song, "All These Things That I've Done." My only complaint is that they didn't perform "Change Your Mind", a terrific track from their first album "Hot Fuss."
A solid and very new-age band called The Red Romance opened the show. They sounded incredibly retro, but had a good sound. Pats enjoyed the show, and it was cool for me to see the Killers at the Sears Centre. When I was in corporate at CTU, I could see the building out my office window and I watched the whole thing being constructed from start to finish. The venue itself is just alright, nothing fancy, and the seat aisles are entirely too narrow.
Nevertheless, I was already a pretty big fan. But after seeing the Killers live, I can guarantee I'll see them again.
Trouble Trouble Trouble
*Got pulled over again last night. Improper lane usage for merging onto the highway too soon. Didn't have the updated insurance card in the car with me. The court date is May 30. I will have moved back to RI the week before. The lawyers are confident that I won't lose my license. I sure as shit hope they are right.
*I had to give both Mojo and Rococo a sedative today. We have an appointment at the vet this morning, and Mojo cannot be touched by anyone but me. So we're trying sedation. Rococo has never been sedated before, and I wanted her to have a trial run before the flight next week. Giving a cat a pill just could not suck any worse. Now I have to get them in the car. I hope that witholding food and water for the last 12 hours will save my upholstery.
*More grading to do than I think I realistically have time to do by Tuesday.
*Planning the move and figuring out the details. Oy.
*I had to give both Mojo and Rococo a sedative today. We have an appointment at the vet this morning, and Mojo cannot be touched by anyone but me. So we're trying sedation. Rococo has never been sedated before, and I wanted her to have a trial run before the flight next week. Giving a cat a pill just could not suck any worse. Now I have to get them in the car. I hope that witholding food and water for the last 12 hours will save my upholstery.
*More grading to do than I think I realistically have time to do by Tuesday.
*Planning the move and figuring out the details. Oy.
5.07.2007
Too Many Words
First, those two reams of paper worth of grading. Barely touched it so far. But gardening has been addictive. Just me and the shrubbery. Live chats, brainstorming, training sessions, talk talk talk.
But it's also been amazing. Lots of fun and time with the family and some friends. It's cool down here but seasonable.
I don't have a lot of words in me tonight. Just know that I'm well and happy.
But it's also been amazing. Lots of fun and time with the family and some friends. It's cool down here but seasonable.
I don't have a lot of words in me tonight. Just know that I'm well and happy.
5.04.2007
On Second Thought
I schlepped the papers. There are probably two and a half reams of paper in my carry-on right now. I figured I will be motivated by wanting to pack light on my return home.
I'll find time.
Today was crazy, I'm awake and wired, staying en la casa de mi hermano in Providence. Second thinking.
I'll find time.
Today was crazy, I'm awake and wired, staying en la casa de mi hermano in Providence. Second thinking.
5.03.2007
Realistically
I will only be home for four full days. I arrive in the afternoon tomorrow and leave first thing on Wednesday. In that span of time, I plan on spending time with several people in a few different locations, settling in to the beach house, and starting up my work projects. Into this mix I also had ideas about grading papers. But come to find out final grades (and my independent study) are all due May 15. So now, I plan.
I'm trying to be realistic. Will it be worthwhile to haul gradebooks and papers home? The answer is no. Instead, I will focus on my online courses and their grades and emails (since the laptop is coming with me anyway), and I will work on my independent study (which, though nebulous still at this late date, is definitely taking shape). My face-to-face students are all turning in their work by Thursday next, so I'll focus next weekend on getting through it all then and posting their final grades. I've become efficient at grading and think I can get it done.
It's all about the planning. And I must say that I can see why my horoscope talks about changes occuring after the 15th. The semester will truly be over by then.
I'm trying to be realistic. Will it be worthwhile to haul gradebooks and papers home? The answer is no. Instead, I will focus on my online courses and their grades and emails (since the laptop is coming with me anyway), and I will work on my independent study (which, though nebulous still at this late date, is definitely taking shape). My face-to-face students are all turning in their work by Thursday next, so I'll focus next weekend on getting through it all then and posting their final grades. I've become efficient at grading and think I can get it done.
It's all about the planning. And I must say that I can see why my horoscope talks about changes occuring after the 15th. The semester will truly be over by then.
5.02.2007
Halfway Home
I love this new show on Comedy Central. Tonight's episode was classic. Carly, having been convicted of smuggling drugs from Venezuela (of all places), is one of the five "criminals" being "rehabilitated" at Crenshaw House. Tonight she gives up pot after she learns her GED practice test scores are so low she is considered "mildly retarded."
But it turns out that Carly is both prodigiously intelligent AND intensely bitchy without her daily smoke. The result? Carly freaks out and begins trashing the kitchen, but only after taking the GED exam and ultimately scoring the highest grade in California. Because Carly is freaking out, House Supervisor Kenny gives the residents permission to bust out the bong and slip it into the room. Peace descends on Crenshaw House the moment the savage beast finds succor in a long slow hit.
Classic. Yes, marijuana is illegal, but we all know people who are happier and "better adjusted" on drugs; be they prescription anti-depressants or a bit of grass.
One of my favorite things about Comedy Central is that it's subtly political.
But it turns out that Carly is both prodigiously intelligent AND intensely bitchy without her daily smoke. The result? Carly freaks out and begins trashing the kitchen, but only after taking the GED exam and ultimately scoring the highest grade in California. Because Carly is freaking out, House Supervisor Kenny gives the residents permission to bust out the bong and slip it into the room. Peace descends on Crenshaw House the moment the savage beast finds succor in a long slow hit.
Classic. Yes, marijuana is illegal, but we all know people who are happier and "better adjusted" on drugs; be they prescription anti-depressants or a bit of grass.
One of my favorite things about Comedy Central is that it's subtly political.
Summer at the Beach House
Mom shot this picture in the yard at Gaspee of Erin and me doing one of our favorite things: basking in the New England summer sun. There will be many more days like this very soon.
I also had the distinctly Southern New England opportunity to connect Erin with Sally, my dad's former secretary who is now a real estate agent. Erin and Nick want to sell their house in Novo Beja, and it would be wonderful if it all works out with Sally. And it was great to chat with her today and catch up.
There's something to be said about living in a place where no matter what you need, you know someone.
Blank Canvas
I was basking in the sun on Saturday afternoon (it really streams in the windows in the afternoon in this gorgeous sunny condo) and Amity shot this through Skype. I think the contrast was boosted a bit, and I love the effect. I sort of feel this way right now: a toute epreuve (ready for anything) and facing many unknowns. But the sunlight means that the future is bright.
Tattoo You
At long last, I have scheduled an appointment with my prodigiously talented tattoo artist, Esther, for Friday, May 11. She's going to add another layer of white ink over the parts of the compass on my back that are covering up the original yin-yang prison tattoo I got on a road trip Sophomore year in college.
We're also going to start planning my new tattoo. Stay tuned!
We're also going to start planning my new tattoo. Stay tuned!
5.01.2007
Hope
So the Daily Show just reported that an Israeli panel has determined that last summer's war with Lebanon was unjustified and that Ehud Olmert rushed in without proper cause. Israelis are calling for his resignation. Olmert, with whom the Daily Show drew both startling and amusing parallels to our very own clown prince President Bush, refuses to resign.
Personally, I was outraged at Israel's attack on Lebanon, which grossly outweighed the abduction of two soldiers. Beirut was bombed to within an inch of its life, the infrastructure set back 20 years to near-wartime levels of destruction. At some point along the way I've developed a fondness for Lebanon and it broke my heart to watch as years of hard-fought recovery was undone in mere days.
But this panel gives me hope on so many levels. What Israel did was wrong. But then again, I cannot imagine the level of fear and insecurity that people live with on both sides of the line over there. I try to be neutral. It's not my fight. I am neither Arab nor Jew. But it's still devastating on a human level, and perhaps that's where the change will happen.
Case in point. I taught this semester at Oakton's Skokie Campus, the most delightfully versatile college campus I could ever imagine. We watched a couple films on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, which was intensely personal and I would say even somewhat painful for some of the students. But we did it. And I asked them how it's possible for Jews and Arabs to sit side by side in a classroom in Skokie, Illinois, but kill one another halfway around the world simply for being one or the other.
Two of my favorite students in that class, one an Arab, one a Jew, wrote incredible responses to those films. Both said that it was in fact a very personal issue and it was hard to watch, but that they ultimately feel that both sides are at fault for perpetuating hate and that the conflict has to end. They were able to suspend or, better, transcend the personal and the subjective in order to reach the level of critical thinking for which we were striving.
The news of this panel and the galvanized response of the Israeli people in calling for Olmert's ouster reflects the same degree of critical thinking. And it is the most hopeful thing I can imagine.
People cannot live fully-actualized lives in fear or in ignorance or in hate. And when we operate from any of these places, terrible things happen. People are killed. Lives are ruined. Progress halts, and we regress further. All of these things are the OPPOSITE of being human. So I remain hopeful that Israelis love life more than asserting their right to exist, and that Palestinians love life more than finding victory in martyrdom. They want to reap life, but sow death. And as this continues, life will only be death.
But things like panels and calls for resignation are a start. The true progress though comes from the ideas manifest in my students. Now, I suppose it's less remarkable in Skokie, Illinois than it would be in Nablus or Tel Aviv, but it's a start.
Personally, I was outraged at Israel's attack on Lebanon, which grossly outweighed the abduction of two soldiers. Beirut was bombed to within an inch of its life, the infrastructure set back 20 years to near-wartime levels of destruction. At some point along the way I've developed a fondness for Lebanon and it broke my heart to watch as years of hard-fought recovery was undone in mere days.
But this panel gives me hope on so many levels. What Israel did was wrong. But then again, I cannot imagine the level of fear and insecurity that people live with on both sides of the line over there. I try to be neutral. It's not my fight. I am neither Arab nor Jew. But it's still devastating on a human level, and perhaps that's where the change will happen.
Case in point. I taught this semester at Oakton's Skokie Campus, the most delightfully versatile college campus I could ever imagine. We watched a couple films on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, which was intensely personal and I would say even somewhat painful for some of the students. But we did it. And I asked them how it's possible for Jews and Arabs to sit side by side in a classroom in Skokie, Illinois, but kill one another halfway around the world simply for being one or the other.
Two of my favorite students in that class, one an Arab, one a Jew, wrote incredible responses to those films. Both said that it was in fact a very personal issue and it was hard to watch, but that they ultimately feel that both sides are at fault for perpetuating hate and that the conflict has to end. They were able to suspend or, better, transcend the personal and the subjective in order to reach the level of critical thinking for which we were striving.
The news of this panel and the galvanized response of the Israeli people in calling for Olmert's ouster reflects the same degree of critical thinking. And it is the most hopeful thing I can imagine.
People cannot live fully-actualized lives in fear or in ignorance or in hate. And when we operate from any of these places, terrible things happen. People are killed. Lives are ruined. Progress halts, and we regress further. All of these things are the OPPOSITE of being human. So I remain hopeful that Israelis love life more than asserting their right to exist, and that Palestinians love life more than finding victory in martyrdom. They want to reap life, but sow death. And as this continues, life will only be death.
But things like panels and calls for resignation are a start. The true progress though comes from the ideas manifest in my students. Now, I suppose it's less remarkable in Skokie, Illinois than it would be in Nablus or Tel Aviv, but it's a start.
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