Winter's Job: Typing Great-Grandma's Handwritten Memoir!

Intriguing clips from GG's life:

There are three kinds of marriage: The prize, the surprise, and the consolation prize.

Rockabye baby, please go to sleep. Momma’s a monster & daddy’s a creep. (...Weird...)

There was something almost chemical in my actions and decisions. Now was my kiddoes year to begin to store up fond memories. I had no intention of having examples set and telling them No. It is not wrong for them to follow the lead of curiosity. No! No! makes them less free about reaching out and learning than those raised where No is kept to the necessary minimum.

There is enough grounds for divorce in one cup of her coffee. (Hahaha)

I was a moveable object around which a kitchen was designed.

She galloped past the old maid doom, leaned over backwards in the other direction of double cursedness, and married the first confused young man who looked into her eyes and said, “You remind me of my sister! Be my bride!” The shortage of marriage-minded males for her type made her feel obligated to grab fast and hang on tight, letting the years drop where they may.

One advantage of being married is that I couldn’t make a fool out of myself without knowing it.

“This was not a great union. I’d lost all that made sense in life but the children and acquired a fine bleeding heart for a hoodlum,” all of a sudden a vocabulary of common sense told me in adjectives and emotions all unfavorable.

The height of creation is having a family and helping them develop according to their various talents, after all it isn’t when children grow up to explore an interesting object that mother should worry. It’s when they are afraid to reach out to touch objects that excite their curiosity that we should start worrying.

The fire was out with C and I, but there was enough warmth in the kids to keep us together.

I determined to make my society a touch of privilege, not a burden.

Mayme’s bed of whom I had supplanted was no bed of roses, but an abundance of experience, which no one would either seek or desire. There is nothing more baffling in human relationship than silence. The dark loom of doubt, and ? unexpressed. Only the shell remained.

Kentucky land is the footprints of our past and the hope of our future, even though the truck growled up and hauled us back to the city.

No matter how you slice him, he spelled nature’s blunder, always in debt throughout life and in pawn to the future.

The Emmicks were never friendly to me. They were constantly digging my grave, but I never came to the funeral. And most of them have had to eat their shovels, and I am still chewing up my talent. Fighting to the last ditch for a satisfactory later life.

Her record indicates she does not know much about choosing a mate for keeps. She invents a cure for which there is no disease. Bob Connor, #1, living by his wit, ignorant, shy and brazen almost to the point of blankness, struck one as though he had been bruised by life. Drawing petals around him only strengthened one’s impression. Dismayed false assurance. Seldom said the wrong thing. Seldom did the right thing. Moved around like a sleepwalker. She was very happy with her model husband, until she looked up model in the dictionary and found it meant imitation of the real thing. Then she tried the I’ll show ‘em outlet for her nobly repressed resentment. Divorce opened the way for Bob Connor. Their matrimonial route tilted for taller timber and bowled over completely.

She knew nothing about him and there was nothing to know.

Magical Realism in the Form of Book Review

"What we think, in the adult person, is very much a matter of what we allow ourselves to think, and what we feel is very much a matter of what we allow ourselves to feel. Moreover what we think is very much a matter of what we wish and seek to think, and what we feel is very much a matter of what we wish and seek to feel."

D Willard
Renovation of the <3:
The book that centers me when I am in a vice tearing my limbs in four directions at once. In the middle of a hurricane. In the Bermuda Triangle. Before there was penicillen. When pirates, vicious not-hot-like-Johnny pirates still roamed the oceans. And underwater dinosaurs still existed entirely to drain the life blood of mammals. This book remains useful in securing my rescue when times are like these, God bless it.

Nin, Nineteen Thirty-Four

"I saw the headlines, families broken apart by economic dramas, I saw the exodus of Americans, the changes and havocs brought on by world conditions. Individual lives shaken, poisoned, altered... The struggle & instability of it all. I was overwhelmed. And then, with greater, more furious, more desperate stubbornness I continued to build my individual life, as if it were a Noah's Ark for the drowning. I refused to share the universal pessimism and inertia."

Lily Allen

I don't know what's right and what's real anymore
And I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore
And when do you think it will all become clear?
'Cuz I'm being taken over by the Fear

Words Should be Heated in the Winter

Diary of Anais Nin Volume 1 words of the week:

"I accept life as it is, the ugliness, the inadequacies, the ironies, for the sake of joy, for the sake of life. It is a comedy. It is slightly ridiculous and full of homelieness... Today I laughed. I let others care. I shift the burden."

"Has pain made too deep a scar so that I do not feel the gentle touch of happiness? The flesh too scarred, too coarse-grained, to feel the softness of the summer? Only another wound can make it tremble. I am not made for happiness. It is like sleep."

"A devouring passion for reality, because me imaginary world is so immense it can never be annihilated. Only it must not be allowed to devour me."

"But from that moment on, I felt my connection with God, an isolated, wordless, individual, full connection which gives me an immense joy and a sense of the greatness of life, eternity. I was born. I was born woman. To love God and to love man, supremely and separately. Not to confuse them. I was born to great quietude, a superhuman joy, above and beyond all human sorrows, transcending pain and tragedy. This joy which I found in the love of man, in creation, was completed by communion with God."

The Disappearing Sabbath

Tonight, walking -shivering, gloveless in 17* windchill- up Half Street from Navy Yard (which was decorated with Christmas lights??), I decided I'd like to shrug off the 7-day week when I grow up. Because my ideal week would need 9 days. And there would be no such nonsense as "THE WEEKEND!". All days would be created equal. This week would go like so:

Days 1-4: The beginning would be all thinking in rooms and reading every sort of book and writing personal essays and lyric poems and editing original manuscripts and learning French and discussing theories+works and film-watching sans popcorn. Mental exercise. Cerebral procreation. Intellectual intercourse.

Days 5-7: The antidote to all this sinking in thinking would be hands-dirty creativity. One might cook a sixteen-course meal for two dozen of one's closest friends. Decoupage a chest or drawers. Henna one's feet. Trim the Magnolia tree. Photograph fruit. There should be at least 2 completed creative acts by sundown on Day 7 to keep things moving.

Day 8: Brain and soul cared for - time to nourish the body. Adventure and exercise - all the fun kinds of calorie burning. A dance class after morning yoga, followed by a hike through the woods which leads to a waterfall perfect for swimming laps under. After that a hot oil massage might be nice with some green tea and wheatgrass. Bulgur and carrot salad even. Deep breathing would be the constant refrain of the day.

Day 9: This day is mysteriously not experienced, though it does occur in its entirety on a "weekly" basis. It's compressed into a time warp that is unnoticeable to the human sense of time. I have yet to discover the purpose of this odd 24 hour period of time, but I am under the impression that I never will.

Then we start all over again!

Grace, Grace, Free Grace

Goals, gleaned from an evening with a documentary about Howie Zinn (what a name: "You Can't be Neutral on a Moving Train") and a manuscript about dialogic bi-ethnic history instruction in Israel:


1) "the ability and willingness 'to allow the other to exist autonomously from myself'" 


2) "the willingness and ability to revise and change initial perspectives by taking previous utterances of the other into account" 


In other news: Why is a table called a table? I mean a chart. I know why a dining table is called a table - it has four legs, of course. But who can eat from a chart?


Now, for a phone call to the boyfriend person.

Apparently a Depiction

of Depersonalization Disorder, today I Dedicate "The Scream" to Adam Duritz.

Haiku-ing Me Way to Sleeeep...

had to take a walk
to remember your name is
not grenade or cross

-

my hands look to me
like children asking for what?
a hawk in flight - CAW!

-

winter: walks about
a glass-bottom boat in a
sea of named, known ghosts

The Garden of Words & the Weeds that Threaten...

"For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind: But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." James 3: 7-8

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue; those who love it will eat its fruit." Proverbs 18:21

"Getting treasures by a lying tongue is a fleeting vapor for those who seek death." Proverbs 21:6

"Whoever guards his mouth and his tongue keeps his soul from troubles." Proverbs 21:23

"By patience a ruler is persuaded. A soft tongue breaks the bone." Proverbs 25:15

"Where there is much talk there will be no end to sin, but he who keeps his mouth shut does wisely." Proverbs 10:19

"The tongue of the righteous is like choice silver. The heart of the wicked is of little worth." Proverbs 10:20

"The mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom, but the perverse tongue will be cut off." Proverbs 10:31

"He who has a poor opinion of his neighbor has no sense, but a wise man keeps quiet." Proverbs 11:12

"There is one who speaks rashly like the piercing of a sword, but the tongue of the wise heals." Proverbs 12:18

"Truth's lips will be established forever, but a lying tongue is only momentary." Proverbs 12:19

"The tongue of the wise commends knowledge, but the mouth of fools gush out folly." Proverbs 15:2

"A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but deceit in it crushes the spirit." Proverbs 15:4

"An evildoer heeds wicked lips. A liar gives ear to a mischievous tongue." Proverbs 17:4

"One who has a perverse heart doesn't find prosperity, and one who has a deceitful tongue falls into trouble." Proverbs 17:20

"Even the foolish man, when he keeps quiet, is taken to be wise: when his lips are shut he is credited with good sense." Proverbs 17:28

"The north wind brings forth rain: so a backbiting tongue brings an angry face." Proverbs 25:23

"A lying tongue hates those it hurts; and a flattering mouth works ruin." Proverbs 26:28

"One who rebukes a man will afterward find more favor than one who flatters with the tongue." Proverbs 28:23

"Have you seen a man who is quick with his tongue? There is more hope for a foolish man than for him." Proverbs 29:20

"The tongue like a sharp knife... Kills without drawing blood." Buddha quotes

"There is no evidence that the tongue is connected to the brain." Frank Tyger

"Whatever is in the heart will come up to the tongue." Persian Proverb

"One reason a dog is such a lovable creature is his tail wags instead of his tongue"

"The best time for you to hold your tongue is the time you feel you must say something or bust" Josh Billings

"Before the tongue can speak, it must have lost the power to wound." Peace Pilgrim

"Better slip with foot than tongue" Benjamin Franklin

"At table keep a short hand; in company keep a short tongue." Turkish Proverb

"I prefer tongue-tied knowledge to ignorant loquacity." Marcus Tullius Cicero

"A knife-wound heals, but a tongue wound festers."Turkish Proverb

"A distinguished diplomat could hold his tongue in ten languages."

My Onscreen Debut as Cleopatra, Carver of the Pumpkins

Writes and Wrongs

The work of a writer is sweeping, mopping, dusting under trinkets, working with windex. Why did Pablo Neruda write that he never made a broom? He made into a broom himself.

A delightful interview with Philip Roth. How old he is. 77. His new book Nemesis, about polio sweeping the schoolyards. The bio-terrorism of the 30's (?), working the magic of fear into every mind. What might mass media have done with polio? There is no great film centered on the polio plot is there? Who might...

Chewing on an idea for a book... maybe I will notecard this spring and summer... it's building a beloved little nest in my brain.

The Devil Made Me Do It!!!

My Gut Instinct has had several opportunities to say I Told You So's to my Id this week... Starting with

1) The choice to go to Little Miss Whisky's in the first place. Then the decision drinking two Awesomeness(es) would be more betterer than drinking... one. The surPRIZE was that less Awesomeness is more awesome. They also cost $10 a mug. (Yeek!) Which should imply something specific about a slushy. "Oh, you're that kind of slushy." That's the last time I'll be fooled by a slushy.

2) The choice to go to Zumba on Monday after Intermediate Ballet was cancelled. I knew communication had not been going well between my scapulas and my vertebrae and my abdominals and pectorals, and that they would probably end up not speaking by the end of the class (Ballet is a little more calm and controlled, and I argue that the system might have been able to handle that). But Zumba just sounded like such a party! (That is how they market Zumba - like a workout that feels more like a fiesta than like a treadmill. And it does. Unless it temporarily ruins a lot of relationships in the process. And so it did.) And then

3) I thought it would be (though I KNEW somehow it wouldn't be) smart to take a pain pill on a stomach full of warm blackberries and raspberry juice, which in fact had a similar effect as the double Awesomeness did after two beers. I didn't mention the two beers? Yes, a foolish night from beginning to end. Except the point at which I suggested my cab driver pick up a man flagging us down, a man who ended up insisting on covering both our fares because it's so shamefully hard for a black dude to catch a cab in DC at night and he was a black dude and it was 330am on Halloween weekend. That was the one good choice of the night. The kindness of strangers to strangers is a holy thing.

4) I know there is a multitude of other ridiculous things I've done this week, KNOWING that I was being ridiculous, but they are eluding me. On purpose no doubt. Like naughty little children, hiding under their beds as mommy paces the hallway smacking a wooden spoon on the palm of her hand, an audience of mommy's friends waiting for their shame to be made public.  I don't blame them. At least the dumb things are smart. I give them that.

I'm going to listen to my smart voice now and go to bed.

Just kidding.

A TED Video That Made Me Want to Live. Watch it if You Want to Want to Live.

more borrowed wisdom

“Since my youth, I think that I have never lost the intuition that community life could be a sign that God is love, and love alone. Gradually the conviction took shape in me that it was essential to create a community with men determined to give their whole life and who would always try to understand one another and be reconciled, a community where kindness of heart and simplicity would be at the centre of everything.”

Brother Roger: “God is love alone”

Simplicity

The earth produces all that is needed:
Food and Fabrics,
Water and Wood,
Bricks and Clay,
Sunshine and Rain.

The Maker brings these to us as a gift each day
–knowing that we are happiest
when we live close to the soil
aware of our source
consciously embracing all things with thanks.

The secret is that we are fabulously wealthy
Living like Kings and Queens
In a garden of leisure and luxury.
What we have is enoughŠ and more

If we lack anything, it is the simple pleasure
To enjoy what we already possess
–chasing after joyless schemes and business
denying our inheritance
and wanting what can only make us tired, choked and desperate.

Today, let us find goodness
In the small things
Tasting the abundance you have lavished on us
With eager open hands
Giving and receiving
Trusting and Completing
the circle that began
With the gift of life

http://www.sevensf.org/2006/12/04/simplicity/

Rule # 32 for Survival in Zombieland

Appreciate the Little Things:

A shared pomegranate, a pretty darn sexy fruit
The song After the Storm by Mumford & Sons
Phone tag with Deanna Snyder
Friends making friends with friends back in Kansas
Dark Chocolate flavored tofu
Hanging out with Justin on Skype
Phoebe in Wonderland, how wonderful
Inanimate objects like lamp and vase and stool
A poem or two by Pablo Neruda, The Hands of Day
Zucchini
Rapid Release Tylenol - and the nice colors it is

A lot of sharp object metaphors

There comes a moment every semester when all the disparate topics of discussion, and nitty gritty readings, and charts and diagrams that elude me - they are all made worth it. My pick-ax strikes gold! (Well, it's gold to me - maybe that makes it fool's gold, but it shines & thrills me and that's good enough.)

Education and Development in Sub-Saharan Africa has been pins & needles in my face. It's convinced me I did the right thing not specializing in development. But today I found an education project in the Philippines that will enable me to fight through our research paper component, and is -I SAY- the sword in the stone that could vanquish Malawi's dragons of teacher shortage, out-of-school youth, budget problems, population growth, AIDS rates, and centralized planning. Just call me Wart! Then again, don't.

Project Impact is clearly and compellingly discussed here. Don't pretend you are anything other than desperate to learn more. Seriously, don't fake ambivalence. It's not cool.

MALAWI --- I'M COMING!!!!

My Fave Father-Daughter Movie Scene Is In...

Meet Joe Black:  

PARRISH:  Do you love Drew?

SUSAN:    You mean like you loved Mom?
PARRISH:  Forget about me and Mom - are you going to marry him?
SUSAN:    Probably
PARRISH:  Don't get carried away.
SUSAN:    Ohhh...
PARRISH:  Susan, you're a hell of a woman. You've got a great career, you're beautiful...
SUSAN:    And I'm your daughter and no man will ever be good enough for me.
PARRISH:  Well, I wasn't going to say that...
SUSAN:    What were you going to say? 
PARRISH:  Listen, I'm crazy about the guy -he's smart, he's aggressive, he could carry Parrish Communications into the 21st century and me along with it.
SUSAN:    So what's wrong with that?
PARRISH:  That's for me. I'm talking about you. It's not so much what you say about Drew, it's what you don't say.
SUSAN:    You're not listening.
PARRISH:  Oh yes, I am. Not an ounce of excitement, not a whisper of a thrill, this relationship has all the passion of a pair of titmice.
SUSAN:    Don't get dirty, Dad...
PARRISH:  Well, it worries me. I want you to get swept away. I want you to levitate. I want you to sing with rapture and dance like a dervish.
SUSAN:    That's all?
PARRISH:  Be deliriously happy. Or at least leave yourself open to be.
SUSAN:    "Be deliriously happy". I'm going to do my utmost.
PARRISH:  I know it's a cornball thing but love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without.If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? I say fall head over heels. Find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived.     
SUSAN:    Bravo
PARRISH:  Aw... you're tough.
SUSAN:    I'm sorry. But give it to me again. The short version.
PARRISH:  Stay open. Who knows? Lightning could strike.

Hump Day Resolutions

I'm going to finish reading Renovation of the Heart this time.

After Last Comic Standing, I will quit TV.

I'm gonna finish all my Kentucky Wedding Biz homework by Sunday.

I will communicate well with my boyfriend, instead of like a raving lunatic.

In September, I will move into a convent for the semester.

I will finish my Motivational Quilt art project before I move.

I'll clock in at 8am tomorrow. The snooze button will not be poked.

I will pray Nana off hospice.

Kindness, gentleness, humility & grace will be my garments.

That vacuum will be used.

Never again will I rub my eyes after cleaning with Clorox.

I will shower more often.

Dust be gone.

Jahari and her daughters will feel welcome in their new summer home chez moi.

This headache will go away.

I will empathize more with cockroaches and rats.

Today's yoga class will be the new leaf.

I'll make a doctor's appointment this summer & a dentist's for September.

I'll stop the negative self-talk.

I won't cry.

My Hallmark Card

Sometimes a person just must define: "This is me & that is you, and your problem is not mine."

I don't actually have a problem. I'm well. Even though something in me tries to convince me otherwise, since you are not well.  But that's a lie. I'm not you. I'm not i'm not i'm not. I'm Me.

Get well soon.

Dedicated to The Kolars' 70 years of Love

“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk anything, you risk even more.”
Erica Jong

“We take a risk when we open our hearts because the truth is, if we open our hearts, we will get hurt. You can’t open your heart and not have some hurt because you’re in a human experience. Even if it’s the love of your life and you have many wonderful, deepening, growing, powerful years together, it’s a human experience and that person will pass over. Love takes courage. Be courageous.”
Mary Manin Morrissey

“To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.”

"Love does not measure, it just gives." -Mother T

"If you asked twenty good men to-day what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you asked almost any of the great Christians of old he would have replied, Love- You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative ideal of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire." -Clive Staples Lewis

Scratch.

Working on the story I am telling myself... this rough draft belongs in the wastebasket. Scratch. Kendall Payne, let's start from Scratch.

So next time you’re reading a religious book and the author says you can be the person God designed you to be, flip to the back cover and look at the author picture. If said author is wearing clothes, put the book back on the shelf. It’s like my Uncle Mosie told us, Never trust a fella wearing clothes. -DM

the perfect bedtime song... i actually dreamed of world peace last night.

so let it be.

imagining all my blood running down my vessels toward the floor, this gravity so strong. like a magnet pulling my feet. STAY. this is a good Sinking Into My Soles. not a dread. a calm. the opposite the itchy thin air up by the smoky ozone. it's fresh and oxygenated here. low.

thinking of laurie halse anderson now, and how Catalyst produced a parade of chemistry metaphors to explore coming of age. nobody rocks vehicle like laurie rocks vehicle. truth needs to move. have wheels. gas. merriam webster catalogued the rest.

i'm going to wake up sans furies.

the decaf diary

sleep is gripping me. it's my vice. but as much as i feel like finals are over, they are so not. tomorrow is a hella big day & i need to work out this paper & that presentation & the late assignment I pretend doesn't exist. so snap out of it, sleeping duty! sloth is not your sin today.

choose your own adventure

today i told myself a different story. with help from my pet unicorn renee, and the wise old sages who populate my literary memory. there's an ugly subplot in my life that rears its face every once in a while. and it scares the wind out of my sails every time. like "oh shit! this is not ok! shutdown all systems & realize what an epic failure this subplot makes you!"

it's been woven through chapters for years, mostly in paragraphs but sometimes in pages. and i'm not proud of the tone and diction i've chosen for it half the time, or how much space it's taken up (but that part seems nonnegotiable). today, the story cast itself in a whole different light. soft, glowing, ambient light that made the subplot's face look positively ravishing. like an angel, honestly. i almost felt like we might be dear friends after all this violence and name-calling. i love it. today. i lovvvvve it as much as i hate the old way.

the mean reds

i know "the mean reds" (audrey hepburn's name for angst in breakfast at tiffany's) have anti-communist undertones. so i call them the furies. because it kind of sounds like fairies - but fairies that wield tiny swords that slash you to pieces inside. the furies. and papercuts heal and all, unlike the cold war.

i'm not saying i have the furies right now, but i'm not saying i don't.

who will take me to see the flowers?

quel pandora station to listen to in the shower is such a big decision.

today the lineup is 

I Know You Want Me

Sufjan Stevens

KT Tunstall

i just don't know who i want to draw me into Saturday. what mood. what energy level. maybe a glass of water will tell me.

THEN on to bigger and better decisions. at the national arboretum.

KT?

Blah blah blah

My stomach and my brain do not speak the same language, apparently. It took the fog of 12 hours without a bite last night to remember - oh yeah, dinner. At 2 am. It's never like this unless I am consumed by my work, body & soul. And this paper is consuming me. Like those little fish that nibble the dead skin off your feet at the fancy pedicurists. I'm in the home stretch, apparently... but haven't begun to Works Cite or write an Abstract or Conclusion. I keep adding a layer or dimension to sections.

"Stop it soon!"

Trying to decide when/if I'm gonna be sleeping in the next 24 hrs. Is it really THAT important? Hmmm...

Back to Mallie's edits. She is like a fairy genius.

how can i possibly begin to define & give directions about "the kingdom of god" in this paper? jesus himself could only teach about it through parables! it's not a formula, or a school of criticism, or a denomination. it just is or isn't. this is a joke. god, are you laughing? throw a girl a bone!

how are the kingdom of god and global citizenship related? how can christian colleges nurture the two in students? can they possibly begin to move away from portraying jesus' "message" or "good news" (such limiting terms in and of themselves) as merely a truth claim (which is not to be underestimated, of course) but as a mustard seed and portion of yeast? these thoughts are so hard to organize into a treatise...

Donald Miller re: "Are People Good?"

I’ve always wondered why people who believe in total depravity say things to their kids like “good job” when they catch a baseball. Shouldn’t they say something like you caught the ball, but you still deserve to go to hell?

I’ve never really trusted people who believed we were totally depraved, for obvious reasons. How can their view of the world be trusted? They are totally depraved, after all.

A pastor friend told me recently, though, that the term total depravity doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person, or aren’t capable of doing good, but that you aren’t capable of redeeming yourself. You are totally depraved, he said,at being able to access God.

That made more sense to me, to be honest. And besides, I’ve met plenty of people who don’t even know God who are good people. And I mean really, really good. I mean they love and care about people, they are moral, they are charitable, so the whole idea there is nothing good in them doesn’t seem to jive with reality.

Sometimes I wonder if God has an enemy and that enemy is trying to get us to not like people, because if we don’t like them, they won’t listen to anything we say. And sometimes I wonder if the idea of total depravity has been skewed to get us to not like people.

Ramblings of a Mennonite Anglican

Professor Matt Williams, with his Jesus Life & Ministry professoring, should have convinced me then that the Mennonite tradition of faith was prettty far out in the Awesome field. Then, Shane Hipps, the new teaching partner of Rob Bell came from his Mennonite Church with nothing but amazing reflections to share on the Anabaptist "way." Now, as I begin to see trends in Mennonite colleges & universities, I am blown away by the priorities of these people. There is such a commitment to peace, social justice, humility, and incarnational ministry. I am like a rat, following the Mennonite Pied Piper's song as I learn more and more and more. Wait, that has kind of a doom&gloom connotation. I don't think the Mennonite "way" leads to death and destruction. It's just enchanting is all.

And the Anglican tradition. Oh the Anglicans. I'm realizing my theology and leanings are so much more Anglican  & Mennonite than Evangelical Protestant. How did this when did this happen? (It's always been, though, right? Just unrecognized?) How had I never heard of these streams sooner? God must be responding to my desperate need to be surprised and not-bored by theology, church, faith. He done good! I am FASCinated.

Lately I've been fantacizing about working in international education at a Mennonite college. Or getting a PhD from Duke or Princeton in something related to global citizenship education at Christian colleges & universities (in the U.S.?). I like Duke & Princeton lately. And I also am deeply grateful for access to Emergent Village podcasts! My mental muscles flexed all day on my commute, listening to panel discussions. Such a contrast to yesterday, when the music flowed non-stop & my left brain was choreographing to its hearts content. I NEED that tik-tok back&forth between intellectual stimulation and creative freedom. The more I slalom between the two, the wholer I am. Such a challenge to avoid getting stuck on one side or the other. The balance, the balance.

There is so much grace in the fact that today is merely Day 1 of my hibernation w/ Research Paper #2. I have more days to go. What Day 5 will look like, I fear to ask. I have such high hopes for this paper. But the words don't seem to be coming, not to mention the conceptual vision. I need the patience of an architect, and the fluency of a dancer. In light of God's grand gestures of provision lately, I can't doubt he is kind enough to lead me in this. Particularly as I submit the direction of the paper to him. I think he has something generous to say about this topic, and I would rather put that forth than my stuttering perceptions. (Please speak.)

(why should i try to walk every journey on my hands?)

1. the vortex is opening its mouth to bite me in half like a hungry hungry hippo does to an oblivious tourist. and whats a girl to do when she's divided in half? twiddle her thumbs and tap her toes? how useless and juvenile.

i am losing it. all of it.

2. it's that i see a destination on the horizon that sparkles pink and i fold & kick into a headstand, walking all spry upside down, thinking, thinking of the vision. (can't see it now the blood cells are all crowding my brainspace, but) i know it's there and it's pink, and are we almost there? when will i ever (?) be there. this is the moment i fear: i decide to stand down, U-turn, and clean the gravel from my palms; orORor i tie my laces, trudge the distance on foot, and hum to pass the time.

how upright & gravitational and not me. can i only move forward if i'm drunk?

your mom skypes

i skyped with my itty bitty brother tonight for the first time. he's 17 a dealing with as much girl drama as i had boy drama at his age. but the point is, he gave me a laptop tour of the house i haven't been home to in 3 months and it was so nostalgifying. i wanted to reach out and touch items on shelves, and was so struck by the odd reality that - though they were in front of my face, they were thousands of miles away. so dizzying. so. but sweet as well.

mmmkay bye.

Intro Voice-Over in a Disney Movie for Grown-Ups

There is always a saxaphonist, a Spanish guitarist, a harmonicist, or a bongo drummer when I enter or exit the Farragut North train station. SOMEbody talented rockin out. The minute and a half when there is a soundtrack to my commute is my favorite minute and a half. And then it's over, replaced by sirens & construction. But sometimes a minute and a half is all it takes to remember the magic.

Half Thoughts

When I woke up & glanced at the clock - "Let the War of 812 (am) begin!"


Was disconcerted when I began writing with my pen & the little rubber ball came off the tip - "Oh no, I didn't know you were a virgin!"

Is there anything more captivating than the silt at the bottom of a coffee cup? ANYthing?

Accidentally typed academic sinstitution. Haha.

Quantify THIS!

Quantitative research makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like there's a bunny nesting in my heart. When it wiggles its nose, it tickles, I giggle & make a typo in Excel. Then it goes back to nesting as the magic happens on the computer screen. Bippity boppity BOO!

WTF is wrong with my Blog Post format??

Adjectives are all I can think in. But when I look back and read a vague post full of adjectives, it does little for me. So I will refrain from sputtering all the words frothing at my mouth ~ grateful, peaceful, resigned, full, joyful, singleminded, small.


The point is, it has been hard lately to completely entrust mi vida to Jesus. The previous season, peppered with disappointments & dead ends, made it easy to perceive His Love as my only hope. But career, friendship, energy, romance - these are all blossoming now in new ways that compel me to trust My Life to sustain me. The compartments that compose me. Bollocks. How can that be? When these compartments are flourishing, they still are just dandelions sprouting beneath a field of sunflowers. They are precious and lovely, but are not the landscape in a nutshell. Not my landscape.


Feel I have finally looked up from the beautiful ground & seen the bright, proud stalks smiling at me. And at last, I can relax.

La-Ti-Dah

My surrender muscles are getting bootcamped lately - trying to keep them from seizing up like they do sometimes, all Gollum and Middle Earthy. It's ugly. I get the creepy "My Preeeecious" visual & sound byte sometimes when my conscience is trying to squeeze a laugh out of me, because, as all consciences know, the Id don't know how to laugh and the Will don't like a tight-ass.

So tonight, when I was walking home from the Eastern Market, I was listening to a Jonah sermon podcast by Shane Hipps up at Mars Hill Church. And it was bore-ing me. So I turned it off and reached for my cell phone. And immediately I felt like I was letting myself down. Like, "Take your introvert time. Finish the sermon. Be blessed." I played a little tug of war, and then rewarded my Jiminy Cricket for having made me laugh earlier in the day over the Gollum scene, shoved the earbuds back in, and smirked sheepishly at the rebuff.

Shortly after, I found myself laughing aloud the rest of the walk home. Apparently the book of Jonah is a joke. Or comedy rather. At Jonah's expense. I'm too tired to go terribly into it, but basically Jonah runs away, holes up in a whale, finally gives in & turns around, does a terrible job announcing doom to Ninevah in an attempt to prove he isn't fit to prophesy, and immediately the king and entire city "believe God" & repent - a response no other Old Testament prophet was fortunate enough to evoke. Joke's on Jonah. According to Hipps, the narrator weaves this subtle comic relief into the entire script. Who knew?

This is what I love about Mars Hill sermons. They make the neophiliac in me less sad that I grew up hearing Bible stories 1100 times each. There is STILL something fresh to gain from the text, the context, the subtext, the implications (of course there is, but rarely so much as when it comes from Mars. Haha. Mars.)

AND AGAIN, humor. Humor is the way to tickle the rebellious spirit out of me these days. (Though yesterday I definitely cussed it out & it worked. Got that tip from a friend at Intervarsity.) Whatever works. Submission is sublime.

From "Kingdom Leadership in the Postmodern Era"

This article thrilled me! These are a few chunks that seemed relevant to my online diary. 

http://nextreformation.com/wp-admin/resources/Leadership.pdf

"A good conductor does not merely tell everyone what to do; rather

he helps everyone to hear what is so. For this he is not primarily a telling but a listening individual: even while the orchestra is performing loudly he is listening inwardly to silent music. He is not so much commanding as he is obedient. He knows that music is not made people playing instruments, but rather by music playing people."

We can be managers or mystics.

Poets are non-utilitarian. They don’t accept the view of a congregation as a tool for impacting the world. Rather, they see the congregation as the location of God's work of redemption and the incipient presence of the future kingdom. 

In the deepest sense, distinction between leaders and followers is meaningless. In every moment of life, we are simultaneously leading and following. There is never a time when our knowledge, judgment and wisdom are not more useful and applicable than that of another. There is never a 

time when the knowledge, judgment and wisdom of another are not more useful and applicable than ours. At any time that "other" may be superior, subordinate, or peer. 

At a deeper level there exists the unspoken assumption that leaders have more to give than others, and that those who "follow" need us more than we need them.  In reality, the strong offer one gift, and the weak another.  Until we die to the idea that we are somehow "ahead of" or "above" the community of faith around us, we will continue to be frustrated in our attempts to have an authentic community that combines real relationships with real discipleship.  

Jean Vanier writes, We do not want two communities—the helpers and the helped; we want one. That is the theory, but in practice there is a tendency for the assistants to make their own community and be satisfied with that. Truly to make community with the poorest and identify with them is harder and demands a death to self.

All people dream, but not equally.  

Those who dream by night, 

in the dusty recesses of their minds,  

wake in the day to find that it was vanity.  

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous,  

for they may act their dreams with open eyes  

to make it possible. 

    T. E. Lawrence ("Lawrence of Arabia") 

Just What I Needed, Oswald Chambers!

The Most Delicate Mission On Earth

“The friend of the Bridegroom.” John 3:29

Goodness and purity ought never to attract attention to themselves, they ought simply to be magnets to draw to Jesus Christ. If my holiness is not drawing towards Him, it is not holiness of the right order, but an influence that will awaken inordinate affection and lead souls away into side-eddies. A beautiful saint may be a hindrance if he does not present Jesus Christ but only what Christ has done for him. He will leave the impression - "What a fine character that man is!" That is not being a true friend of the Bridegroom; I am increasing all the time, He is not.

In order to maintain this friendship and loyalty to the Bridegroom, we have to be more careful of our moral and vital relationship to Him than of any other thing, even of obedience. Sometimes there is nothing to obey, the only thing to do is to maintain a vital connection with Jesus Christ, to see that nothing interferes with that. Only occasionally do we have to obey. When a crisis arises we have to find out what God's will is, but the greater part of the life is not conscious obedience but the maintenance of this relationship - the friend of the Bridegroom. Christian work may be a means of evading the soul's concentration on Jesus Christ. Instead of being friends of the Bridegroom, we may become amateur providences, and may work against Him whilst we use His weapons.

Cathartic

There comes a point when the whole alphabet and every number down the line raise their chins and mock me. This moment reminds me of the fever-induced delirium of childhood - one time, on Thanksgiving, when I was so disappointingly sick and missing turkey, I remember being haunted by multiplication tables doing themselves wrong in my head. No matter how hard I tried to correct the numbers, they wouldn't submit to math. 

The low points come (more sensically, less schizophrenically) from time to time, when every iota of matter seems hell-bent on making me feel invisible & insignificant. Loudly. And my instinct is to react emotionally to all the accusations cast by the walls and doorknobs and picture frames. But as I age I've begun to stop short of that. The emotion, like, asks permission to grip me... kind of diminishing its posture of authority and its power. Is this growing up? Getting to choose which emotions to feel?

The moment is strange, because, although I feel less vulnerable to the darkness, I don't quite know how to find all the light switches that light the place up enough to make me feel safe again. Crazy free and wild with carefree vitality. I know the simple answer is to shed all the shiny identities that promise to define me, and rediscover peace with the only One who can give me a name. 

Beloved. 

Beloved.

Beloved.

Everything fades with that name. With the grace of that word. And wow. Just like that, the lights are on. Part of me feels compelled to cover all the mouths trying to blow out this light. But I don't think I need to. I think I can just lean into the embrace of Truth, and allow gratitude to grip me.

What Not to Wear

I'm turning into a never-nude. These knee length black spendex "pants" go under everything! too bad winter is over...

old books and old bacon

Oh the thrill of researching... and discovering that some of the sources you are peeking @ in the library catalog are from the 1600's. No freakin way.

I found sooo many books thru inter-library loan. God bless Catholic University & their plethora of religious non-fiction. This will make my life easier & reduce my hours camping out w/ text at the Library of Congress. It's time to get my ars in gear and zoom over to that lovely building, though, to request a looksie-loo at the sources that have still managed to elude me.

Sidenote: The blackboard in my room is covered with scribbles from a Shane Claibourne podcast that blew my mind AND related to "My Topic"! I need more blackboards now.

Also, I recommend the vegetarian Chinese Noodle Soup at Teaism. Splendid ginger-flavored broth. Just delightful. Trying to stay strong, but I need someone to eat my bacon ASAP. It's only so long I can wait before I cook it and eat the entire pound by myself. It's taunting me. Come over for brunch, friends. Eat the bacon. Oh no, it's calling...

Commercialism and Faith Pt 2: Paradise Lost

Commercialism and Faith Pt 2: Paradise Lost

Nerd Alert

Casting my net wide as I explore my current research topic...


Civic Education in the Private Christian University: American Citizens, Global Citizens, or Kingdom Citizens


Been downloading Tony Campolo, Shane Claibourne, Rob Bell, Dallas Willard podcasts. Compiled a booklist from Amazon keyword searches (which I will need to peek through at the Library of Congress, since my online checkout would be an outrageous $906.48). Maybe I can request some of the books from Consortium schools... maybe. 


If you know any resources, individuals, universities, books, podcasts that might be of use - PLEASE share!  This is my favorite part- getting my hands dirty! (Wow. Yeah, research in no way involves dirty hands. Sad fact. Need to find time to make mudpies. Soon.)

Globalization, Cellular Terrorism, and Whispers of Utopia

It's been a while since I began and ended a relationship with a book in one day. But Fear of Small Numbers (only 150pgs) screamingly taunted me from the shelf with its conceptual complexity... and I figured, if I didn't consume it whole, I'd get lost in the brain-draining days between chapters. Think I was right. I feel in touch with the contexts and conclusions of Dr. Appadurai... These random phrases from this "Essay on the Geography of Anger" struck me as posti-it worthy:

Modern nation states... like the last dinosaurs, see that they are in a desperate struggle for survival as a global formation (21).

Terror... blurring the bounds between the spaces and times of war and peace.... violence as the central regulative principle of everyday life (32).

... worldwide genocidal impulse toward minorities... (40)

... United States, as an occupying power in Iraq, faces the fear that the small numbers who are continuing to torment and kill its soldiers are true representatives of the Iraqi people, who were originally scripted to greet the Americans as liberators and unfold the spectacle of a civil society underneath the carcass of the dictator (81).

... fearful symmetry between the fear of small numbers and the power of small numbers (113).

... spatialized fantasies that led George Bush and his advisors to try to localize Al-Qaeda in Afghanistan and decimate a cell by erasing a landmass (116).

These cellular organizations.... a full scale alternative global polity.... (130)

SatHereDay

Not quite up for the intellectual catwalk of a coffee shop today... Considering an afternoon reading Fear of Small Numbers in Union Station. Nostalgic for that travelley feeling. And the cavernous anonymity of those highly vaulted ceilings. If I could choose a venue for a Flying Dream, Union Station would do.

Daylight Savings is going to rape me.

oh the irony of posting this

A Film More Glaringly Self-Conscious Than a Dostoevsky-Salinger Hybrid Character

Memoirs of a Pathological Liar

So, when I work in the Gelman Library computer lab, there is a desk to the left when you walk in. Kind of a private cubicle that seems designed for a friendly but hushed receptionist. Instead of sitting in the barracks & typing next to dozens of people who are mostly surfing youtube & facebook & blogger (damn them all), I sit at the perpetually-vacant reception desk. This means green freshmen often wander up to me awkwardly & ask tech-questions. In the beginning, I would cut them off & explain "I don't work here." The way you must if you oops-a-daisically wear a red t-shirt & khakis to Target. But now, after months staking out this cubicle, I answer their questions. I fake it. I often direct them to tech services. But never do I let on that I. Do. Not. Work. Here. This is my fake work gig. My chance to be a librarian - a childhood dream. And like most of my jobs, the pay & benefits suck. But seeing the relief on faces of aimless young people brings me joy. That and deceiving an entire population of people.

Periods

They call us "bleeding hearts." And tonight I was reminded that the image of extreme pain is so accurate. Sometimes, I can't help but "feel the sadness of the world," as Mallie & I call it. (Honestly, maybe I could turn a switch and stop Feeling. Could I? Maybe. But then I would morph into a different person, and that is not in my agenda. My name is Tasha.)

We discussed patriotism v. cosmopolitanism in class tonight, and believe it or not - that is a topic that had me teary & sniffling half the time. Researching global citizenship education has had the same effect. The magnitude of The World, the enormous network of humanity, the constant failure of people groups to respect their counterparts in other parts - these things overwhelm me. I taste them, and like bitter berries they leak dark stains in my mouth and I force myself to swallow their juice. The acid gives me heartburn. A "bleeding heart." And that is how it feels to study.

I couldn't love my program more. A program couldn't demand more of my sensibilities. Couldn't leave me feeling more wrecked at the end of a unit. But why am I such a masochistic student. Why do I value this process. Is it the safety I find in uncovering all the scary evil things and naming them. Turning the lights on. Feeling the horror once so completely - does it free me from ever being asked to feel it again. Does my sacrifice of grief alleviate an ounce of the cosmic harm an atrocity has caused. Or compound it. I can't even bring myself to use question marks on these questions. I'm too tired to see those challenging little squiggles, reaching their fingers out to me, "Answer. Figure it out. Well?" Don't ask me to answer. Don't even ask me to question, Punctuation. You have no right. Leave me alone. To my periods.

Hey Asia, Wassup?

"My country is the world. To do good is my religion." -Thomas Paine

also

"To cause someone to lose face" is a something we talk about in my cross-cultural training class (particularly as it applies to Asian cultures). And earlier this week I believe I caused someone to lose face publicly - not intentionally at all. I was just trying to share my experience & warn this person. But maybe the context was unfortunate. Maybe he's a man who doesn't like to be corrected by a woman. Maybe I said my piece (peace?) abrasively. Not sure. But it was a vivid enactment of this concept we discuss in such faraway language. It wasn't fun, but it also wasn't a big deal.

Sea Monkey Podcasts

There is little that excites me more than an iPod full of fresh podcasts. It's like a stocking stuffed with little tiny treasures (so tiny you can't even SEE them! no, they are like those little PILLS that you toss into a bucket of water & watch them grow into a spongey sea monkey, a t-shirt, a village right in front of your eyes! ALSO the same, because you move the podcasts into the trash bin the day after you us them, just like the incredible sponge creatures!)

I have an iPod full of new podcasts. Off I go!

But I'm Not Dead Yet! Put Me Back!

Began my morning half-asleep, thinking through the logistics of an assignment that's been troubling me.

The important thing: For at least ten minutes, I was completely unaware I had a body. Then came the  moment I was drawn back into the realization - Oh, I'm lying on my side. Oh, my eyes are full of sleep. My hair is in my face. These are normal waking up thoughts for me.

I can't remember ever having the experience of being in such contemplative conversation with myself for SUCH a long time before remembering my mind is encased in this body & not a stand-alone creature.

It felt almost like an insult, once the realization struck. A surprise if nothing else. Like my mind was floating out above my bed and was suddenly sucked without warning down into me. I wondered for a moment if that's what it'd be like to be dead & disembodied. But decided no. My mind was much too restless & frustrated. I like to imagine it would be more soulful and and at peace if I were dead & floaty.

Now I have to go about dealing with the morning realities of this body. I admit, although my mind felt annoyed to remember its post, the rest of me is rather pleased to know I'm embodied. I can listen to the melodies of Balmorhea, and drink lovely water, and feel the tug of a brush on my hair. It's kind of pleasant to be human, in command of six senses.

Blonde Moments

Wow, I sound so uptight in my last post. Haha. I think I was hungover from my academic writing of the morning.

It's time for Three Stupid Things:

1. The maintenance guy taped up a wet paint sign in the lobby. To the freshly painted wall. Yeah, that's not gonna come off well.

2. I have started leaving full glasses of water in strategic places around my apartment so that whenever I get thirsty one will be in arms length. Like 5 of them. Now, this is either extreme ambition or extreme laziness in action. Maybe both.

3. This morning I woke up with a Tylenol PM in my hand. I fell asleep before I could take it so that I could fall asleep. Guess I was more tired than I thought.

Facebook Fatty

Unsettled by this new Facebook Abstinence. For Lent.

Living alone was less lonely when there were several hundred people I could communicate with indirectly at any hour of the day or night. My blog network is smaller, but it serves a similar hunger. So I'm over-blogging. Which I'm okay with.

I know I'm developing a reputation as a Facebook Fatty, struggling with yo-yo dieting and binge cycles. I've even been compared to Brett Farve - retiring only to make a comeback. Over and over. But what's the alternative? To quit completely? Don't want to completely cut myself out of social networking. In fact, I will need to do some F-booking for work. Grace.

I would love to find balance. Of course. But this is me trying - repeatedly rediscovering what lies beneath my ravenous appetite for human connection. Often, I believe, Facebook frittering (etc.) is (for me) a high-calorie substitute for connecting with my Self. And with my God. A repellant against stillness and silence and peace. A manifestation of restlessness and unease. TV has a similar function, I expect. And now that I've finished "In Therapy: Season 1" I may limit my TV intake too. Maybe.

Can You Buy Me An Flatscreen? Thanks.

(excerpt from my Cross-Cultural Training reflection)

There few ways to kill a friendship quicker than to start asking for loans and gifts. In the U.S. that is. In Malawi, financially successful individuals often linger in lower-class living conditions because of family members and friends we might consider “leeches.” These relatives, who can’t/don’t find work, live off of the prosperity of whoever does. It is traditionally unthinkable to progress into a life of moderate luxury when your sister’s family is going hungry or your cousin has hurt his leg and can’t work. So, in a culture where it is natural to assume your success should trickle into the pockets of needy people in your circle, Malawians believe “it can’t hurt to ask. The worst that could happen is they say no.” Well unfortunately that’s not the worst that can happen – an ethnocentric Westerner might feel targeted and actually cut off the relationship in self-defense.

Many of the long-term “American-Malawians” had developed personal financial boundaries that helped them gracefully negotiate the terms of their relationships with their indigenous neighbors. However, most confessed that this dynamic limited the depth and quality of their cross-cultural relationships. “The white man’s burden,” so it seems in this scenario, must be compounded by the fact that these development workers lived in extremely luxurious and spacious homes compared to the average Malawian. Malawians were constantly exposed to their Western friends’ high standard of living, and perceived them to be immensely wealthy (though many were paying only $200/month for 4-bedroom houses). 

I am...

• A recent convert to instant Italian Roast coffee.
• Relieved to be rid of the "crick" in my neck. 
• (Definition of Crick: A painful cramp or muscle spasm, as in the back or neck.)
• Listening to...

The Show by Lenka

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don't know where to go I can't do it alone I've tried
And I don't know why

Slow it down
Make it stop
Or else my heart is going to pop
'Cause it's too much
Yeah, it's a lot
To be something I'm not

I'm a fool
Out of love
'Cause I just can't get enough

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out
It's bringing me down I know
I've got to let it go
And just enjoy the show

The sun is hot
In the sky
Just like a giant spotlight
The people follow the sign
And synchronize in time
It's a joke
Nobody knows
They've got a ticket to that show
Yeah

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I dont know where to go I can't do it alone I've tried
And I don't know why

I'm just a little girl lost in the moment
I'm so scared but I don't show it
I can't figure it out
It's bringing me down I know
I've got to let it go
And just enjoy the show

I want my money back
I want my money back
I want my money back
Just enjoy the show

you're still the one I kiss goodnight

"The moment" happened - the sudden feeling that everything I want in the world is Here. (Not everyONE I want, but a lot of ones I want. EveryONE I want will never be in one place. Real life tragedy, but unavoidable nonetheless. [I like the word nonetheless - how often do we get to combine three wordsinone?]) The breeze was blowing my now-long hair as I sped past Union Stn on foot. I was on my way to "the office." And that weightless feeling hit. I love my life hereandnow. So much grace. So much opportunity. Those kindreds I wondered if I'd ever find in this city. Fireworks inside my organs kind of gratitude. 

So tonight I re-read my first blog entry - September 23rd, 2008. Fresh meat in DC. Homesick and shell-shocked. It made me grateful for the efforts my prior self expended, so that my current self could be "living the dream" these days. Professionally, socially, and spiritually. I am constantly amazed at the beauty of conversation with past and future selves. It's almost trinitarian (little "t"). That sense of community within ones self in three different manifestations, yet a persistent unity in Being.

Anywho, this is my heart on a page those many months ago:

I am TRYING here. Okay? 

I'm making friends. I go to Irish Times and Carolina's for happy hour Friday nights. I laugh. I tell secrets. I brush my teeth and wear deoderant. 

My eating habits are sub-par, though, I admit. And my sleep schedule is practically religious. I watch at least an hour of... TeeeeVeeee everyday, damnit. And the best part of ANY evening is a phone call or a text from The Sunshine State. 

I'm faltering. Wavering. Teeeetertottering. This is not good enough. ROOTS, I say! I need to extend ROOTS. Deep down into the concrete soil of this city- Washington, DC- if I am ever going to last. 

But I am tryyying. I promise. Kinda.

Last Night

"For a woman to dream that her hair is falling out, and baldness is apparent, she will have to earn her own livelihood, as fortune has passed her by."


Could this be my lot? OH NO!!!

Magic Words

In anthropology, psychology, and cognitive science, the term magical thinking is used to describe causal reasoning that accords unwarranted weight to correlation or coincidence. It often includes such ideas as the ability of the mind to affect the physical world (see the philosophical problem of mental causation). Associative thinking may be brought into play, as well as the power of magical symbols, synchronicity, metaphor and metonym.

• metaphor: changing a word from its literal meaning to one not properly applicable but analogous to it; assertion of identity rather than, as with simile, likeness.
• metonymy: substitution of cause for effect, proper name for one of its qualities, etc.
• synecdoche: substitution of a part for whole, species for genus, etc
• "White hair" for an elderly person
• "Fingers" or "Legs" as a nickname
• "Wheels" referring to a car
• "A pair of hands" referring to a worker
• "Old Blue Eyes" to refer to Frank Sinatra
• "The White House" referring to the executive branch of the United States government