Naiad Nocturne

guess what!

2009-10-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!

that's right. yup, you heard me right. Joseph and I are going to have a baby.

The baby will be born sometime around May 15th.

I'm hoping for under 9 pounds, but considering my family history, that's unlikely.

homemade

2009-10-16T02:41:00.000-07:00

I promised many people a picture of the chairs Joseph and I recovered with the help of my mom and dad. So here they are. They are definitely not perfect and I'm not sure I would ever do this project again since the chairs are still wobbly even though we tried to reinforce them.

One thing Joseph and I have started doing regularly is baking our own bread. We use the simple no-knead recipe from the New York Times and it is always yummy.

A few times in the summer we took a loaf of bread and had a simple picnic and searched for geocaches around the city.

I've made a lot of treats lately but my fourth of july oreo-esque cookies were the yummiest.
The best craft of the summer, however, goes to our new quilt my mom and I sewed while I was visiting at the end of summer.

It looks mostly blue in this picture which is misleading. only that corner has blue in it the rest is warm colors. It fades from blue in the bottom left corner to dark pinks and yellow in the top right corner and the two other corners are light pinks, yellows, and greens. I love the fabric, it comes from Anna Marie Horner's Good Folks collection.

San Sebastian/Donostia

2009-10-06T22:48:00.000-07:00

My favorite place in the world is now San Sebastian (Donostia in the Basque language), Spain. It's amazing beauty, rich culture, and laid back feel had such a soothing effect on me. I love that while it was a relaxing place to stay it was also energizing. I would love to rent a house here for a summer sometime in the (distant) future.

See how beautiful it is:

Joseph and I on the funicular.

Me on the beach:

The church right down the street from our tiny hotel:

an admonition: wear sunscreen

2009-08-27T20:57:00.004-07:00

A few of you know that a few months ago I went to a dermatologist to check out a weird mole I had on my face. It turned out to be basal cell skin cancer. Don't worry, that is the less dangerous non-spreading type. On Wednesday, I had Mohs surgery to make sure all the cancer was removed. Luckily they got it all out in one go, but then I had to wait 3 hours until they had time to stitch me back up. That's Canadian health care for you. However, let me be a lesson to you all. Learn from this and, from now on, wear sunscreen. Otherwise you will end up dealing with this:

(note: this first picture is mild, if you are squeamish about blood, do not scroll down.)

This first picture shows the swelling I am dealing with and a bit of bruising. It looks more mild in the picture than it actually is. See how the corner of my eye is enveloped in massive bulges, yeah, thats not normal.

This is the wound in all its glory. You can see the large blue suture at the bottom and there are smaller dissolving stitches underneath the surface. They could not stitch the whole thing up because of where the incision is located; stitching it up would have left really ugly ridges of skin. This way the scar will be smooth.

And, lastly, here is a good close up. Sure makes you want to slather your face in sunscreen, doesn't it?
Good. My job here is done.

Spain, the last day

2009-06-26T20:55:00.007-07:00

I decided to start with the last day of our trip to Spain and work backwards from there, because I'm crazy like that.

Last day in Spain: Bilbao.

We arrived in Bilbao in the late morning on a bus from San Sebastian. We left that same night on an over-night bus to Madrid.

Our first, and really our only important stop, in Bilbao was the famous Guggenheim Museum. We actually went to the cafe first because the beautiful bus ride through the Basque countryside left us a bit peckish. We had an amazing slice of quiche that involved spinach and pine nuts.

We then commenced our tour and I have to say that the Guggenheim has the best free audio tour I have ever had. You just dialed in the numbers posted next to the artwork and listen to an explanation of the work and sometimes listen to the artist talk about his or her work - fabulous!
There was also some audio tracks about the amazing building itself.

As you can see it is an amazing place. The second photo also shows one of my favorite pieces: a huge metal spider called "Maman" by Louise Bourgeois. There are a few other Mamans scattered around the globe and I hope that we will see the Ottawa one sometime while we are living here.

This picture is of some sweet nostalgic graffiti. While it is not a part of the museum, I was standing on the patio of the museum when I took this picture.

After perusing the museum for hours. We took a stroll along the river, drank some famous Spanish hot chocolate and ate a waffle, and wandered around the old town area. This was a beautiful balcony in the old town:

After our walk we continued to walk around the city seeing some really cool bridges, a nice opera house, and even saw part of mass in a small church (it was Sunday), but we could not find a place to eat and finally ate at a Chinese restaurant near the bus depot. It was pretty yummy and our pineapple chicken dish came served in a hollowed out pineapple, which was pretty awesome.

While I liked Bilbao, and its beautiful setting in the green hills, it just didn't wow me like San Sebastian did. However, the museum was worth the trip.

Stay tuned for the next segment: San Sebastian.

To Do

2009-04-22T14:49:00.002-07:00

wash kitchen and bathroom rugs
clean kitchen thoroughly
rearrange furniture
buy containers for closet storage/food storage
clean off patio
make yummy organic meals full of fresh veggies
workout much more
plan trip to Spain
figure out finances
and find a new job

life is a strange mix of boredom and stress

story fragment...

2009-04-15T14:47:00.001-07:00

Composing came easily now—music flowed out of her dreams and pooled in little ponds on the staffs of her notebook. O resented the flow of sound that she could not control—it was no longer her music, it was someone else’s, it was the voice’s music, her damned muse’s. Her life took on a pattern, she woke up, convinced herself that today would be a normal day, but it never was normal. She would either stub her toe, fall down flat, space out for hours, almost drown, alienate all those who tried to talk to her or, on the days the visions left her alone, she felt the dread and spent the day imagining what would happen if she left reality during dinner with an old friend, while crossing the road, driving her car, or chopping vegetables for her mother’s favorite gratin. Slowly, methodically, O stopped crossing roads, riding her bike, crossing the bridge, or any other activity that could be deemed dangerous to someone whose hold on her mental life was as shaky as hers.

quotidian inspiration 4

2009-03-27T07:03:00.002-07:00

This video from Jem made me dizzy when I watch it the first time. However, after they explained how they made the video, I was floored and watched it three more times. Make sure you watch to the end so that you too will know the secret.

ear art

2009-03-02T16:39:00.003-07:00

Yes, you heard right. Ear art. Art that depicts an ear.

A few weeks ago I suddenly got the desire to do a collage piece depicting an ear. I thought that my inspiration channel in my brain was really looking for anything to amuse me with, but I heeded the call and sat down to make an ear.

I used a tiny wood block that Joseph bought me for my birthday, so this one is dedicated to him.
Here is my ear piece:

Personally, I like that you can still see the wood grain through the paint.

I was listening to some beautiful music at the time and that is where the swirling lines come in. However, when I look at it, it seems like the lines are coming out of the ear, like wind passing from in one side and out the other.

quotidian inspiration 3

2009-02-27T00:12:00.004-07:00

empty space

can be really beautiful

in art it can take your breath away

in poetry it could make

all the difference

I'm inspired by empty, or seemingly empty, spaces. Here are a few pictures from around my house that capture empty spaces.

Before you go, I have one more inspiration for you. This music video has been on my mind for about 2 weeks - a good indication that it inspires me.

Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie:

Enjoy.

circus art

2009-02-25T22:23:00.003-07:00

I made two companion paintings for my aunts. They were meant to match each other and both featured a circus animal, two figures (representing my aunts), and a circus tent. The first one was finished in November, but I forgot to take pictures of it before I sent it off. It featured a large elephant and the two figures were running up a hill to a large circus tent.

The second one was completed only a few weeks ago.

The backgrounds are painted on a 6x8 canvas board, all the figures are collaged from papers with some charcoal, and the lion's mane is made from string.

quotidian inspiration 2

2009-02-22T20:58:00.004-07:00

Sometimes, it is important to stop and look around you for inspiration. It might be as simple as looking around your own home. There is a reason we decorate the way we do and a reason why we surround ourselves with certain objects, textures, and colors.

Today I'll share two pictures of our bedroom, which is actually not fully decorated. There is only one side table and our mirror is not yet hanging on the wall, and a beautiful Turkish quilt has not yet been hung on the wall opposite our bed. However, I am inspired by our bedroom partially because it is unfinished and partly because I love the combination of grey and orange. It is a place of love and a place of dreams, and that is what inspires me today.

(Sorry about the weird lighting in the second picture)

birthday

2009-02-13T20:25:00.003-07:00

I am officially a quarter of a century old (as of a month ago)! This birthday was great, but it was also difficult. I don't think I've ever had one of those birthdays that made me really think about what I'm doing with my life. That could be because this is the first year I have not been in school since I was 5.
However, the birthday was, overall, awesome. First, my mom sent me flowers:

Then Joseph came home from school with roses and a cute little cake from a bakery called Flour. It was so adorable and very yummy.

I loved it:

After a nice dinner at a near by Indian restaurant, Joseph took me to an art supplies store and let me pick out some stuff for my birthday gift. It was a great idea because Joseph doesn't like picking out gifts and I love art supplies!

I also received daffodils from my visiting teachers:

Definitely a good birthday!

a quotidian inspiration 1

2009-02-11T23:03:00.003-07:00

There are many things that inspire me about daily life, like how simple things smell, taste, feel. I don't know what inspires you, but I'm going to post some random things that for some reason spoke to me on that particular day.

Today, I will post two things.

First, there is the beauty of a cooking egg:

I love the shapes that the whites make and the beautiful yellow color of the yolk. Mmmm, and the smell....mmm....and the taste of a perfectly cooked egg...mmm. Serious inspiration right there.

The next inspiration that I will share is a wonderful song and even more wonderful video by Goldfrapp.

This video has the power to cheer me up no matter what.

art

2009-02-10T23:54:00.005-07:00

it has been awhile, again. sorry.

i'm back and I want to share some art projects I have been working on. Here is the painting I'm currently working on.

This is it in the first stages (well the first stage I photographed at least):

it is now a bit further along:

it feels really good to be painting again.

toronto wanderings

2008-10-07T09:45:00.007-07:00

We have been here in Toronto for a month now. Joseph likes his program, but the only job I have managed to get is a retail job, but I guess it will pay the bills for now.

But, enough of the serious stuff. Let's talk about fun things we are doing. We don't have much money so fun things are a bit limited. However, we are up for the challenge. Tonight, we got student tickets to the dress rehearsal of the opera War and Peace by Prokofiev. While the staging lacked some pizazz and some of the singers were just marking (singing at half voice), it was still very well done and I especially like the second half dealing with the war. I found that ironic since while reading War and Peace with Joseph, it was the peace time sections that I liked the best.

Okay, this is boring you. No, no, don't disagree, I can tell by how you are reading this. Fine, I'll just move on to something that has pictures to accompany it.

Last week, Joseph and I went to the Word on the Street, which is a book festival with authors and publishers and all sorts of cool things for literary nerds like me. First we stopped by the Victoria College's (part of University of Toronto) annual book sale. It was located in this amazingly beautiful building:

After that we headed to the publishers' tents to look at books that they had on sale. However, it was a sale on the Canadian price of books and that made them cost about as much as we could get them for in the US not on sale.

However, the highlight for me was not an author or even a book, but the TVO kid's stage. On the stage was Jackie, who was teaching kids how to dance. I thought it was quite enjoyable. I think kids would have fun checking out those dance moves online, which I linked to above.

After walking around Word on the Street, Joseph and I walked a little ways to Kensington Market.

Kensington Market is less market then a conglomeration of grain stores, organic stands, street performances, fruit markets, bakeries, over-priced restaurants and a colorful crowd of people. One thing that caught my attention was the Community Vehicular Reclamation Project:

Isn't that an awesome planter?
While in Kensington Market, Joseph and I bought a huge empanada that was filled with beef and kimchi! It was surprisingly delicious. Yum Yum Yum.

Tomorrow, and by tomorrow I mean whenever I feel like it, I'll post pictures from our walks in the neighborhood.

skywatch the second

2008-10-02T22:03:00.005-07:00

A week has gone by. Weeks go by so quickly, even though I don't do much in a day. However a few days ago I grabbed my camera and ran out onto our apartment balcony to get a shot of the beautiful colors the sunset was producing. We are new to this apartment, city, and country, but this is the first really beautiful sunset that I have seen here. I just wish my apartment balcony didn't face north, so that I wouldn't have to dangle over the railing to get a shot of the sunset, which is what I had to do to get this shot:

And since I'm feeling generous tonight. And because I don't want to post two sunset pictures in a row. I'll also give you this picture, which I took a few months ago when I was visiting Washington D.C. with Emily.

Please visit the Skywatch main page to view more, and better, photos of the sky.

my first skywatch

2008-09-25T16:42:00.004-07:00

I saw my first skywatch photo a few weeks ago on my best friend's blog. It was completely understandable to me why she would be drawn to such an idea; she absolutely loves the sky. So much so, that I used to call her skylark when we were still roommates. She instilled in me a love of sky-watching, and I still I love looking at the sky - it is such a large canvas which tells new and interesting stories every day.
After browsing through the many beautiful pictures on the Skywatch website I felt inspired and sat down and drew for the first time in a really long time. This is exactly what I need in my live - inspiration. Therefore, I am joining the ranks at Skywatch.

This photo was taken at sunset in Edfu, Egypt.

itinerant

2008-09-24T17:02:00.008-07:00

It has been a rough journey these last few months. I completed my thesis and received my Master's Degree from the University of Chicago. A week later Joseph flew out to Boston to attend Harvard for the summer and Emily flew in to help me finish packing up (and I packed her up as well), drive with me to Cleveland, and fly out to Maryland where I stayed with her and her family for a week. We also took a couple of trips down to D.C.

Then it was off to San Francisco to visit my Aunts Susan (yes, plural, and yes they are both named Susan). After an amazing 5 days with them, and, believe me, my visits there are always amazing, I flew to Utah to attend my Grandpa's 90th birthday party.

After that family event, I flew to Arizona to spend some time at home with my parent and brother, but because I am ever restless, I was only there 10 days before I flew with my mother to Cleveland, rented a car, and drove up to Toronto. In the 4-5 days we were in Toronto, my mother and I drove around every neighborhood of Toronto, checked out numerous apartments and, after the most horribly stressful day of trying to get money from the U.S., managed to put a deposit on a very nice apartment.

(note: this is not our furniture, I took these pictures before the previous tenant moved out)

After that eventful trip, my mother and I drove back to Cleveland, met up with the rest of the family and then headed back to Canada to spend a day and a half in Niagara Falls. After our brief time there and the most horrible tour I have ever been on, my whole family (sans Joseph) squeezed into two cars and drove to Vermont, where we met up with Joseph and stayed in a cabin near Stratton for a week. Then we all drove down to Boston for a few days to check out the sights. After that short history lesson, I once again said goodbye to my husband, and drove back to Cleveland from Boston with Ben, Debbie, and Parker. I then lived in Ben and Debbie's living room for the next three weeks with Joseph joining me after a week of finals (thanks again, Ben and Deb). After wearing out our welcome several times over, we finally departed Cleveland, drove back to Chicago, rented a mini-van, picked up my dad from the airport, loaded up all our stuff, and drove to Toronto. After a small fender-bender between our car and the rental car, we finally made it across the border at 1 am and the next day (August 31) moved into our lovely apartment.

That is the summary of the last few months. No wonder I am still exhausted.

its been awhile

2008-04-23T14:19:00.010-07:00

It has been a really long time since I really blogged, but I'm thinking about starting it up again. So, when I was thinking about what I should post about, a few things came to mind:

1. Wedding pictures-everyone is waiting to see them but I still don't have digital files of the photos except for a slideshow.
2. Rant about how amazingly beautiful my nephew, P-man, is. He visited us over Easter weekend, isn't he cute?3. A description of my master's thesis that has been devouring my life for the last five months.
4. Photos of Chicago and or discriptions of fun things to do here.
5. How awesome the first 134 days of marriage have been, but I think I'll spare you all that.

Instead I decided to post a random photo and tell the story behind it. I think this might become my blogging habit.

This is the story of banana-chocolate-chip muffins that went oh so wrong and oh so yummy at the same time. Once upon a time in a land called G-5, Emily and I decided to make banana-chocolate-chip muffins from a recipe we stole from an old roommate. The roommate turned out to be slightly insane (as an excuse for her butt always hanging out of her pants, she would always claim that she had an extra-long butt crack) and we ended up kicking her out of the apartment.

That is besides the point. We decided to make the muffins and since it was christmas time, we decided to dye them red and green for the occassion (okay, so it was my decision and Emily had no part in it). I had never used this food coloring before. When my family decided to remodel the cabin I took all the spices and other kitchen gadgets. So, I ended up owning some really strong food dye that my grandma used to use for cake decorating. I didn't realize that they were stronger than the liquid stuff at the supermarket. This explains why our muffins ended up looking like aliens. I kid you not, some had faces. I'm serious! You still don't believe me? Well, see for yourself:

To some degree, it made me cringe to eat them, but I got over it and they were so yummy! Here is the recipe if you want to make them:

Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins
1 3/4 c all-purpose flour
1/3 c sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 egg, beaten
3/4 c milk
1/4 c cooking oil
3/4 c mashed banana (you probably will want more banana. i tried this amount and they were a bit dry and not very banana-y)
1/2 c chocolate chips

Grease twelve 2 1/2 in. muffin cups or line with paper bake cups; set aside.

In a medium bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Make a
well in the center of flour mixture; set aside.

In another bowl combine egg, milk, oil, and banana. Add wet
ingredients to dry ingredients all at once. Add chocolate chips. Then add a bunch of food coloring (at this point I split the batter into two bowls and dyed one red and the other green.
Stir just until moistened (Batter should be lumpy).

Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling each two-thirds full.
Bake in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes. Cool in muffin cups on a
wire rack for 5 minutes. Remove from muffin cups, serve warm.

the golden compass

2007-12-02T01:32:00.000-07:00

I absolutely loved this trilogy growing up. I first read The Golden Compass in middle school when it came out and after that I anxiously awaited each book's release. In the books, there are daemons, which are like companions, a separate being attached to the soul of the person and which takes on different animal shapes before settling on a permanent shape. I always wondered what form my daemon would take, a snow leopard?, an owl?, a tiger? I no longer have to wonder.

This is my daemon, but I might not have answered the questionnaire accurately. That is where you come in, you can visit my daemon page, alter the answers and give my daemon his true shape.

first snow storm

2007-12-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

actually the forecaster called it a mixed winter storm, which I gathered means that we will have all sorts of freezing precipitation. For now, its a blizzard, okay, maybe I don't know what that word really means, but it is snowing a ton out there right now. I check the weather religiously and there is a warning that the freezing rain that is supposedly coming tonight might cut off our electricity (you would think Chicago would have precautions to prevent this), so I went out today to get batteries for my flashlight. It was flurrying when I was in the store, but 5 minutes later, when I came back out, the entire ground was covered and the snow was coming down and sideways, and, I swear, up. I got home and took a few pictures from my windows. Here you go:

paying attention

2007-11-12T14:15:00.000-07:00

I can't. So I doodle during class and luckily my notebook paper has a large margin. Here are my most recent doodles:

This is not a doodle, it is the cover of a collaborative art book some of my friends are doing. My theme is myth.

schoolyard fun

2007-10-16T18:29:00.002-07:00

this is where I go to school:

It is full of beautiful buildings and churches and has a myriad of hidden little nooks like this one:

the building are covered in ivy which compliments the faux-oxford style of architecture:

and campus is replete with awesome details like this little reading bust on the outside wall of one of the libraries:

Every time I walk on campus I get an awed and excited feeling. It is a beautiful place to be every day. However, in the classroom I feel wholly unprepared, swamped, and unintelligent. Hopefully that will change. For now, I'll just enjoy the surroundings.

What?

2007-10-02T08:10:00.000-07:00

Last night I fell asleep while reading Lacan. This is not that surprising since I understand probably every other paragraph if I'm lucky. The weird thing was that this morning I woke up to find that while falling asleep last night I felt the need to write some notes to myself, on my arm. There was an F X S and then some space and then another F and what looked like a capital gamma that trails down my arm. I have no idea what I was trying to say about Lacan but apparently it was important.

my alleyway

2007-09-20T17:28:00.000-07:00

The coolest part of living in this apartment is the alleyway that I walk through on the way to school. This alley is covered in graffiti and not the spray-paint-my-name-and-obscenities graffiti, but really interesting artwork. I actually can see it from my apartment and I watched some of the guys repainting the wall the other night. I think it will be repainted continually and I will keep you updated. Here is the alley:

my new life, well different at least (with pics!)

2007-09-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to write this post for about three weeks and its not that I haven't had time, I have, its that I've been busy moping when I'm alone and trying to make friends when I'm not. Lets just say that being apart from the person you love is much harder than I expected. Here I am, exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I wanted to do, and I am not completely happy. Part of it, I think, is that I'm terrified that I won't be able to live up the my, the program's, and other people's expectations. The other part of it is that I live alone and miss Yarjka and Skylark a ton. But you didn't come here to hear me whine, so I'll move on.

So, Yarjka and I drove cross-country to "the city" to move me into my new home, but I'll write a separate post about our journey later.the city

When I signed up for graduate student housing I was scared I would be stuck in a tiny hole in an old, ugly building that was small, dark, and in all ways uninhabitable. Therefore I was pleasantly surprised when I found this:

The outside of the building is really beautiful.

My living room has 5 windows in it and it is light and spacious.

The bedroom is the smallest part of the apartment, except maybe the bathroom which has no counter space. The bedroom is fine for just me, but I'm a bit worried since I will be sharing it come December. Not that I'm not excited about that :)

I am on the 6th floor of my building which means I get a lot of cross-breezes that are really nice when its hot, but it is already getting cold. However, the height has another advantage: good views. I have a pretty good city view and a good view of my pretty tree-lined street.

Join me next time as I explore beyond my apartment and onto campus. For now, look at my awesome old-school elevator.

what do you do at church?

2007-07-31T01:37:00.000-07:00

Often I find it easier to pay attention while my hands are busy. That's why I sew during movies and draw during church. This is my draying from church this past sunday. When someone asked me what I was drawing I told them I was drawing plumbing, but fun. So, here it is, my fun plumbing:

sure, okay, fine, have it your way

2007-07-27T00:56:00.000-07:00

it has been brought to my attention that I don't write anymore. Many blame this on my engaged status (see below), but to tell the truth it is most likely from the cyclical nature of my, um, nature. I go through cycles of writing, reading, meditation, randomness, and void, which sometimes end up being mutually exclusive to each other. For instances there are months when I write everyday and others when I can't write a word nor want to but will consume a book a day, and others when I do not want to write or read much but wish to think and interact with people. And there are other times when my mind is firing off in so many directions I can not think cohesively enough to write, nor pay attention long enough to read anything seriously. I have most recently been in the latter cycle, but since I have been told to write and post my randomness anyway, here is a blip (the only semi-coherent thought I could record in the last day or so):

Sleepily I sip water straight from the pitcher until it flows down my chin onto the table, then into the cave in the floor; the stream flows on not merrily as the rhyme would say but thunderously--crashing lightning white waves on budding rocks; it deposits me on the red earth of an olive grove where I stretch under the stenciled shade of olive trees and grow dull from the sun's torrid rays.

It's Official

2007-05-18T12:42:00.000-07:00

I'm pregnant!!
Just kidding, but I am engaged.

Here are some pictures of my ring and my beau.

my roomie is funny (updated again)

2006-12-15T20:41:00.000-07:00

me: Well, why don't you just crawl back down that hole then.

skylark: what am I? a golf ball?
_

skylark: are you slurping your salad?
_

PRincess: sorry, I like myself.
_

skylark: bad velociraptor, bad.
_

nutritionless: that time of the semester

2006-12-10T22:01:00.000-07:00

So, this was Skylark's dinner the other night. A very nutritious meal, as you can see.

The recipe for this scrumptious concoction is as follows:

three scoops of vanilla ice cream
about a fourth of a cup chocolate syrup
an eighth of a cup of caramel syrup
a handful of pecans
half a bar of dark chocolate broken into chunks
half a cookie perched artfully at the top of the delicious mound

mix in that order
take pictures
consume

sleepless: that time of the semester

2006-11-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

Life is more interesting when you are tired. You see, being in college, I don’t get much sleep to begin with. Add to that a roommate whose mood depends on the weather; church work; a strange desire to sit around and eat peanut butter; a boy; graduate applications; and another roommate who tells a story 15 times to feel validated; and sleep evaporates quicker than sweat in a Phoenix June. As I lose sleep, my mind stops focusing on everything, as if it is trying to speed read through life, and only picks up the key words. This is why life is more interesting when you are sleep deprived. At night, when I try to remember my day, the classes and exchanges with friends merge and it reads back like this:

Beeping clock! te quiero, quiero mi cama. The jussive equals a hortatory riding Ceasar’s chariot, though late. Buzzing phone! Sorry, it’s not that Lesbia doesn’t love Hegel, it’s that I think the future perfect passive looks a lot like lunch. Is he speaking Greek? Achilles, stop trying to project yourself on American literature. я тебя люблю. Sappho muses about Poe’s meter and does a jig when class ends but the Nietzschean apotheosis of man eats my chocolate. Honk! Horses are fast now-a-days. Hey, the door is broken and Em just demystified the mammoth philosophers of next door, again. You look so Rip Van Wrinkle that nocturne is a perfect aria. Sit and drink this gestalt and sleep off your bilabial plosives. ἀγάπω ὕπνος.

Thus ended my fiftieth post.

i'm begining to believe that i can't do all of it

2006-11-20T00:34:00.000-07:00

It's funny how things can come out of nowhere and totally blindside you. I'm sorry I haven't written in a long time and I don't really see that changing much before the end of the semester. I'm really looking forward to the Thanksgiving break, but that means the deadlines for my applications are coming up as well and I sitll haven't finished my statement of academic purpose. It's not like I don't know what I want to study. It's just a matter of getting it done. I'm sick of filling out forms and the constant and pointless worry I put myself through. I really just want to call it quits but I know I won't be happy if academics isn't part of my life in some way.

For now I need to continue to fool everyone into believing that I know Greek and I need to actually learn enough latin to fool everyone with, and I need to finish these stupid applications.

Back to work.

don't push the panic button please

2006-10-25T02:00:00.000-07:00

I had a panic moment today when I thought I had forgotten to buy my plane ticket for Chicago. For the life of me, I could not remember buying it, and forgetting to buy a ticket is just the kind of absent minded thing I would do. In order to calm myself, I promptly got on the computer and logged onto my email to check my confirmation but, to my horror, I could not find my itinerary any where. I checked all of my email accounts (about six of them), but none of them had my confirmation. I had managed to set up three meetings and two lunch dates, schedule time to hang out with two friends, buy tickets for one play and an architectural tour of Chicago, but hadn't managed to buy a ticket to get there. Luckily, this is not the case. I was signed into my account with the airline when I bought it so I finally found my confirmation by accessing it from their website, but for a few minutes I really panicked thinking that I had forgotten to buy my ticket. I'm not that big of an idiot (this time at least).

prepositional males

2006-10-20T01:49:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion that boys are like prepositions. Here is why:

1. they are confusing--really, really confusing
2. more than one could work, but one is the best
3. they are nigh impossible to figure out or master in any damn language
4. you think you can live without them, but it just doesn't work
5. they seem frivolous but nothing really works without them

okay, okay I'll write more

2006-10-16T22:57:00.000-07:00

So, I've been told by my illustrious brother that I need to write more often. However, that is difficult when there isn't much to write about. While everyone else in my family is actually out in the real world, I'm stuck here in Provo. I was so bored last week that I went and dyed my hair in order to relieve the boredom.

The funny thing is, that if I was actually going to all my classes, doing all my reading, and completing more than half of my Latin homework, I wouldn't be as bored, but motivation seems to be scarce nowadays. In a good week, I go to about 50% of my Latin class. Actually, I was going to take my Latin test today, but then I lost track of time and missed testing center hours. Yeah, I'm an stultus (huh can I make that a feminine ending?) I'm a stulta. Luckily for me, Latin isn't proving to be overly difficult compared to Greek.

While I miss Latin often, I don't miss Greek, for anything. I love reading the Iliad, it's fantastic, seriously, it's what gets me up in the morning. My poetry class is also quite fun though frustrating at times when I disagree with the teacher about the necessity of narrative within poems. My other classes range from elementary to outright boring.

What's keeping me going is knowing that I get to go to Chicago in less than two weeks. I'm so excited to bask in the non-utahness that I can hardly contain myself. But, for now, I need to study some Latin declension.

possible insanities to realize

2006-10-12T14:51:00.000-07:00

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm insane and that it is not going to go away; actually, it will most likely get worse. I've also realized that I'm most likely never going to be able to sustain a normal, healthy relationship with a guy, and since I'm not attracted to women this means I will most likely be single forever. It's that or being in an unhealthy relationship, but I would rather not commit myself to that kind of relationship since that would only drive me more insane. So, I'm currently envisioning futures for the slightly insane single intellectual woman that I plan on being. These are my ideas so far:

1. Become that awesome professor that is awesome because they are insane. I will make connections no one else can and write papers no one else can understand.

2. Move to a Greek island and write amazing phantasmagoric epics while achieving a perfect tan, learning modern greek, reading ancient greek, and learning how to sail so I can go and speak with my cousin nereids and my other more fishy friends.

3. Live on a street corner in Paris making fun of the french language and making my living by doing caricatures in my most abstract style, telling people that I am painting their auras.

4. Live in a quaint cottage on the edge of the woods just outside a little town with about 23 cats to keep me company. I'd spend my days drawing, painting, writing, talking to inanimate objects, gardening, and cooking. I would also dole out amazing advice to the pilgrims that make the trek out to my remote abode for that purpose.

This is an awfully difficult decision. Which would you do? and which should I do?

(if you question whether or not I'm really insane, 1) you don't know me really well and 2) go read my post why i fear the night to get a glimpse of my mind)

random questions

2006-10-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

-Can anyone explain my weird addiction to French music, considering my aversion to that language?

-Why on earth do I like dead flowers? Not that I don't like them alive as well, but I just love the look of drooping dry flowers. While we are asking questions, what is the probability of two girls in the same apartment (out of the three that live there) having the same strange and morbid appreciation for vases of dying and dead flowers?

-Why is it that people either think I'm a flaming/radical/tree-hugging/democratic/loose/anti-culture wench, or a goody-goody/follow-the-rules/easily-offended/molly-mormon/conservative hag? oh wait, that's right, I'm in Provo. So, any who associate with me here (to any degree of intimacy beyond the 'I sit next to you in class') think of me as the former and those who I associate with outside of Provo, upon hearing that I'm at BYU, assume I'm the later. Not that I'm not a confusing and confused mix of the above, I would just like my contradictory/mind-boggling personality recognized.

-Why, no matter how many times I write them, can I never spell 'restaurant' or 'foreign' correctly?

-Why are all my recent artist crushes female? My music has been mostly Mirah, Emiliana, and Camille lately and my favorite poets of the moment are Sappho (I'm trying to read at least 3 fragments in Greek a week ('cause I have time)), Sylvia Plath (I never tire of her), H.D., and Atwood. To be fair though, I have listened to a fair amount of Sufjan, Dylan, and Microphones, but I'm not nearly as enamored with them. The same goes from the male poets in my life.

-Why am I now an idiot in math? and on a related topic, why the hell haven't I studied for the GRE? I can't believe I'm taking it on Sunday.

-Why did I only go to approximately 60% of my classes this week? Oh yeah, I have better, more productive things to do with my time.

-Why can't I be attracted to nice mormon boys, especially nice BYU mormon boys? Why am I even asking that question?

I'm now done. Here is a really funny picture taken at Ephesus this summer. I thought I would post something to reward those who actually read through all my stupid questions. For those of you who skipped to the picture, shame on you.

ruined fragments of past civilizations

2006-10-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

People have been asking to see more pictures, so here are some pictures of ruins that I saw this summer.

Troy:

Alexander Troas:

View of Lesbos from Assos (hey stop giggling):

Pergamum:

Ephesus:

Hierapolis:

Afrodisias:

Priene:

Miletus:

Olympos:

Amman:

Madaba:

Petra:

I really want to go back, but it doesn't look probable in the next few years.

sunday school

2006-09-25T00:22:00.000-07:00

I got called to be a sunday school teacher again. I'm really happy because it's the only calling I really enjoy doing.

So, today I taught Isaiah 1-6. When we read Isaiah 1:3, "The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib," I explained that the hebrew word 'crib' meant manger or stall. At this point, a friend of mine who has a penchant for snarky remarks during my lessons shouted out that he thought that 'crib' meant house. To which I replied that I'm sure that his house is a crib, but, as we all know, a bunch of asses do live there. It took me a good minute to stop laughing and another minute to get the rest of the class to stop laughing. My roommate, PRgirl, complemented me on my great ass crack. It was a great asinine day.

I think it was a perfect way to start off my new (renewed?) calling.

fall

2006-09-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

Today, it felt like fall.
I drank apple cider and soaked in the beauty of my favorite season.
I was content.

to 'normal' people~

2006-09-21T01:41:00.000-07:00

I have a few things to clarify since you don't seem to be too quick on the uptake.

*I will not temper my mind so you can understand.

*I will not sit by calmly as you label me disordered or deficient.
How do you presume to label something you don't understand? You have labeled a huge part of me as negative and as a child I believed you. I looked at myself and thought that I must have been made wrong; now I know that I was just made different.

*I refuse to be labeled such and then congratulated for overcoming such difficult obstacles or for beating such bad odds.
Yes, certain things were more difficult for me to learn than they were for you. Sure, I didn't learn to read proficiently until mid-elementary school, but that does not mean that I'm slow or deficient; I just learn language differently, no, I learn everything differently than you do. Traditional school was hard for me, but the things that you call my deficiencies and disorders are the things that give me my natural gifts as well. So, they are not just obstacles but also stepping stones, not just curses but also blessings. I would not trade them for anything. They give me my intuition, creativity, alertness, holistic understanding (especially with languages), and most of my most treasured attributes.

However, these are the attributes that you do not get, because you can't even fathom the way my mind works, how it is wired. Which brings me back to my first point:

*I will not temper my mind so you can understand, because you won't.

flesh tones

2006-09-17T00:32:00.000-07:00

I have a tendency to paint and draw monochromatically. This is partly because I really like painting in monochromatic, but partly because I'm scared of flesh tones. This wouldn't be a huge deal if I didn't paint so many people, but human subjects are my favorite. However, I recently decided to start a new pastel project, because I haven't done any art except sketches in a long time and I hated the last painting I completed. I also decided that I would try my hand at flesh tones. I have embarked on my first completely realistic pastel work. I started this evening on the drawing which is of a Peruvian girl and her little brother. I managed to finish (well, mostly) the girl's face and part of her clothes this evening and I was so happy with the results that I'm going to share my work in progress with you (the drawing is about 2" by 1.25"). I am really excited with how the skin tones turned out. This might be a bit self-congratulatory, but it's better than the other things I debated posting about.

passion

2006-09-05T23:57:00.000-07:00

emotion without reason
action without caution

wanderlust satiated?

2006-08-19T16:38:00.000-07:00

Home. I've never been more relieved and happier to arrive home after a trip. After nine and a half weeks of traveling, five of which were in a neighboring country to some serious warfare; picking the worst day to be in Heathrow; and 38 hours of traveling I was grateful to arrive in AZ and to see my mother waiting for me, even though she didn't recognize me until I was eight feet away because I was wearing my hijab.
Provo. I drove into Provo via Provo Canyon and for the first time in my life I uttered the words "it's good to be back in Provo". I questioned my mental health a bit. However, I understand that this is where my friends, my school, and my life are. AZ home, unfortunately, feels less like home and more like a place I visit on vacation. I still love being there with my family and the few friends that I still have there, but I get restless if I'm there too long. With that said, I'm heading back to AZ tomorrow for a few more days to enjoy the company of my bro, LaMancha, and my mother.
These past five days here in Provo have been great. It is great to know that your friends miss you and worry about you. The excitement that some of my friends have displayed at my return has really made me feel loved. Maybe it is only because I came bearing gifts and really good stories. Oh well, I'll take what I can get. :)
I had a few epiphanies while I was in Jordan and many changes to my life plans and my career path have been made (again). I figured out that, while I enjoy public health studies, I am not passionate enough about it to make a career out of it. At least for now. I just haven't followed my other passions far enough yet to abandon them. I should not leave academia just because I'm afraid that I'm not good or smart enough to succeed. Therefore, I have decided to go on and get a masters in classics (hopefully) and then onward to a PhD in English. Why? Because I'm interested in studying the impact of the classics on english literature and I want formal training in the classics before I move on to my PhD program in English. Now I have to find a masters program in classics that will take me with the little language skills that I will have achieved by then. This is not easy and it is stressing me out a bit.
Luckily I have two amazing roommates that brighten up my life! These are a few of our new mottos for our lovely apartment:
G5 Mottos:
-Concentrating is hard!
-If it doesn't fit, it was ugly anyway
-Don't deesh me!
-What the hell is he thinking?!
-dang it. I know I'm forgetting one...look for updates in the near future...

...I remembered! Actually, Skylark called and reminded me of our fifth motto:
-20 minutes late is early

broken glass

2006-08-05T01:40:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I managed to step on the bottom of a broken glass and since I stepped on the edge the other side flew up and inserted itself an inch below the inside of my left ankle. I proceeded to bleed about 1/4 of a cup of blood on the sidewalk before we managed to get some tissues. We then couldn't find a taxi to take me back home, so Mirvet (my Jordanian friend) left me sitting on the curb bleeding, while she went and found a cab. I did finally make it back, but it was a definite adventure. The wound is now healing very well and has not gotten infected.
I have only 4 days until I leave Jordan. Which made me start thinking about whether I wanted to go home or not. On one hand, I am really enjoying my time here and feel like I have finally gotten into the swing of things here. On the other hand, I will have been gone for 9 weeks and am really looking forward to getting back to normal life. So, I've compiled a list of things I can't wait to have/do at home and a list of things I'll really miss when I leave Jordan.

Things I'm looking forward to:
1. spinach salads (I know its weird, but I've really missed them)
2. my family and friends (it really has been too long)
3.washing machines (after 9 weeks of doing my laundry in the bath tub, I'm ready to have really clean clothes)
4. buildings that are other colors than beige (seriously, I'm really sick of beige)
5. thai and korean food (although I did have some amazing sushi while I was here)
6. buying books
7. driving myself around (no more taxis for me)
8. walking around barefoot on sidewalks that don't have broken glass on them
9. breathing without inhaling a ton of second-hand smoke
10. sleeping in my own room

Things I'll miss:
1. falafel (oh man, the falafel here is amazing, actually I'm going to get one right now)
2. the random 'your beautiful' comments
3. colorful veils/hijabs
4. haggling for everything I buy
5. walks on campus
6. listening to the Quran on the radio in cabs
7. belly dancing class
8. our hotel staff
9. the group and roommates
10. "welcome to Jordan" everywhere we go
11. 'lobby time'
12. class in a hotel room

The promised pictures

2006-07-26T04:18:00.000-07:00

Here is an abbreviated album of my adventures in Turkey:

The Aya Sophia

The harem in the Topkapi Palace

The spice bazaar

Pergamum

Pammukale

A huge tree in Olympos

Cappadocia

Fairy Chimneys in Cappadocia

Veiled identities

2006-07-25T02:00:00.000-07:00

Living and working in a place where I am a minority because, among other things, I do not cover my head has set me thinking about the concept of veiling. Years ago, when my knowledge of the Middle East came from books like Princess by Sassoon and movies like Lawrence of Arabia, I thought of the veil only as a symbol of male dominance and female oppression. I was ignorant to the reasons behind women wearing the veil and to the fact that not all of the countries in this reason force women to wear the veil. Even when I knew that it was claimed to be the women's choice to wear the veil or not, I still believed that family and social pressures would make it difficult to go unveiled. I still think that this is an issue especially now that the veil is once again gaining popularity and the percentage of women wearing it has increased dramatically in the last half decade. However, I have gained a new perspective here in Jordan; I really respect the women who decide of their own free will to don the veil as an expression of their religious devotion.

Notes from a desert trapped naiad

2006-07-16T04:56:00.000-07:00

--------------
The Jordanian air seems to have sucked not only the moisture out of my skin but also the words out of my mind. It is not that I believe that there are not words for this place and my experiences here; it is that I have found that my words are irrelevant. I stand isolated here- isolated by my blond curls, my pale skin, blue eyes, determined walk, the way I do not look at the ground while I walk, and most of all I am isolated by people's stares that hold me at arms length at least. Surrounded by this city of beige, the people I left behind seem to fade like the vivid greenness of spring or, perhaps, it is I that is fading like a star at fading into the light of dawn- my light quietly eclipsed by the closer, brighter, more visceral presence of the sun.
--------------

I have begun to miss the anonymity of commonality. Where the non-difference between me and others causes a simple indifference.
It wears on me- having to wear people’s eyes as my veil. I feel no inclination to don my feelings of irrelevancy and hide my face with a chador or hijab. No, I just straighten my back, lift my chin, and look ahead with a small smile on my lips. Like a true Vinci girl I keep my secret amusement to myself and bare the constant stares until I return home exhausted.
--------------

Now, for more concrete information about my life in Jordan. I have been taken on as a TA by an English professor at the University of Jordan. This happened because after the refugee organization that we were going to work for found out that we were of a particular religion they no longer wanted us to volunteer for them. After much gnashing of the teeth, our amazing director pulled together new projects for those who had been planning on working with the refugees. I was able to get the TA position, which I am very happy about. I go to his class, which is about literature and film and give the western view of the film. I also tutor students who wish to improve their English, whether spoken or written. I'm a bit worried that I misrepresent the western view of things, but I try my best. I've enjoyed my chats with the students and have already had lunch at one of the girl’s houses and have been invited to dinner at another's house. However, my days at the university are shorter and I do not believe I will be allowed to go to dinner at L's. This is due the political unrest in Gaza and Lebanon, which is causing tensions even here in peaceful Jordan. It is not that the fighting will reach here. It is that anti-American sentiments are high and we are obviously American. We cannot hide that fact no matter how hard we try. Most of the protests in Amman happened either at the major mosques (luckily we don't live close by to those) or at the university, where I work. It is not that I'm afraid something will happen to me, but the possibility exists and I must be aware of what is going on at all times, which is difficult since my Arabic language skills are minimal.
On a happier note, we went to the Dead Sea after church on Friday (yes, church is on Friday). The sea was amazing. Due to the high content of salt, you float in the sea without any effort on your part. We also covered ourselves in the mud, which supposedly has great cosmetic properties. We spent the night at the sea and the next day we visited Jesus' baptismal site in the Jordan River and Mt. Nebo. After seeing the landscape and feeling the heat of the desert, I understand how difficult it must have been for the tribes of Israel to wander through this desert for 40 years. I would have murmured too. Those are my thoughts for a moment. I now need to go find a liter of bottle water to replace the amount of water that the desert air has stolen from my skin since I started this post. At least I managed to write some of my words before they too were taken from me by this desert's greedy air.

Amman

2006-07-13T14:55:00.000-07:00

First of all, I would like everyone to know that I am perfectly alright. Despite what western media is portraying, not all of the middle east is self-destructing, just parts of it. It is pretty crazy that Beirut is only 134 miles away, Jerusalem only 44 miles away, and Gaza only 92 miles away. Things are peaceful here in Jordan, although there was a protest on the University of Jordan's campus yesterday that was anti-American in sentiment. Since I work with a professor on campus, I was there when it began, but I just avoided it and went home. No one is directly abusing us in anyway. The people here are incredibly nice and generous. I will write more when we get back from the Dead Sea on Saturday. Pray for peace.

umm, yeah. Turkey rocks my socks!

2006-06-24T06:52:00.000-07:00

As the last day of my trip looms closer, I realize that I can't even imagine leaving Turkey. I don't want to walk down streets that don't sparkle with dancing lights from mirrors sewn onto bags, purses, and wall art and where the colors are dull, unlike the brilliant colors of carpets hanging outside the shops here. I don't want to shop where the owner does not offer me apple tea and does not ask after my family and background. I know now that I will miss this country where houses are either painted bright colors or left white against the cerelean blue backdrop; where staring isn't considered rude and even the older men get as nervous as school boys while talking to me; where ancient sites lie amoung groves of olive, cypress, and orange trees just waiting to be explored; where it isn't considered a meal unless yougart or cheese is involved. I have fallen for Turkey.
Turkey is an amazing mix, with women wearing everything from the hijab to headscarfs to the latest mini-skirt from Europe. The backdrop of ancient white marble, crumbling grey stones, and solo columns give a sharp contrast to the vivid reds, greens, blues, and oranges of Turkish life. This place has everything I love: a fasinating, multi-layered history, great food, wonderful music, vibrant culture, and beautiful people. I don't want to leave.

Now that my ranting is done, I have to appologize for not updating more (not that many people read this anyway). The places we have been here in Turkey have been amazing. Let me give you a run down of some of the places we have been.
Çanakale- this is right on the Hellespont and as I sat among pine trees, dipping my feet in the cold water, my mind was boggled by the thought of how many battles were fought here, from the Persian wars to WWI. The waters seemed to peaceful to have been the cause of so many deaths.
Hisarlik/Truva/Troy/Ilium- no one can seem to agree on a name. They are not the most striking ruins, but nothing can beat it for its romance. Supposedly the site of Homer's Ilium, the ruins are fasinating because of all the layers of history you can see. I recited the first line of the Iliad (poorly) per promise.
Alexander Troas- Built by one of Alex the great's generals this site is all but forgotten. Almost impossible to get to by public transportation but well worth going to. The ruins are over-grown and there wasn't another person in sight until a guy showed up on a motorbike to give us a personal tour. The theater just looked like odd shaped mountain since it was completely covered in trees.
Assos- one of the most conservative towns we have stayed in. It was right on the water with amazing views of Lesvos from the Temple to Athena at the top of the hill.
Pergamum- beautiful columns that were perfectly picturesque from every angle. The asclepion was also really cool and we ended up eating lunch where the library used to be. My favorite was the round temple where ill people would sleep in order to recieve dreams about how to cure their illness.
Ephesus- absolutely amazing if it wasn't for the disgusting amount of cruise boat tourists. The library was of course my favortie, but a close second had to be the ancient latrines.

Ok, I've seen ten other sites since then, but I don't have time right now to write about them. I promise to catch up later. Right now I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Göreme which is in Cappadocia. I hope everyone is doing well.

Istanbul

2006-06-13T23:35:00.000-07:00

I did have a hard time finding Ak in London because her plane was delayed and she missed the connection. It wasn't a big deal because she just came in on a latter flight and took a taxi to the hotel. That was fine. However, due to unforseen events my mother had to fly out after the third day here in Istanbul.
Other than that our trip has been great. The Aya Sophia is amazing, the iznik tiles in the blue mosque are stunning, the grand bazaar is overwhelming, the spice bazaar smells wonderful, apple tea is delicious, as are the kabaps and baklava, the whirling dirvishes are fasinating, and I'm running out of adjectives so I'll stop there.
The only problem I have with Turkey is the intense male energy. Since we are single western girls, the men here assume we are easy. It gets old really quickly, but some of the lines are quite amusing, such as: -why are you so beautiful?- that is the million dollar question and my favorite -I can take you to second paradise- what happened to the first one?
Another unforgettable Turkish experience is the Hamam, turkish bath. Public nudity is odd, even if it is only with other women and being scrubbed down by a turkish woman is also an odd experience, but my lady started singing to be in turkish and it was so neat. Basically, in the Hamam is a large marble slab that is heated and a bunch of women are just lounging around on it. After getting sufficiently hot and sweaty, an attendant comes around and gives you a vigorous scrub down pouring cool water on you every once in awhile. It feels amazing once you get past the awkward nakedness.
Well, I don't have much time so I've gotta run! I hope you are all doing well!

Killing time in airports

2006-06-10T01:14:00.000-07:00

Chicago O'Hare 3:40 pm
Notes:
the juxtaposition of plastic utensils and cloth napkins (silverware is not permitted past security, which includes the Wolfgang Puck cafe that we are sitting at)
a jazz combo trying to liven up the O'Hare airport
suddenly remembering what you forgot, like my mom forgetting the travel clock I was going to take on to Jordan. So far I have forgotten nothing, or, rather, I have not yet remembered the things that I have forgotten.

London 9:07 am
The flight was not too bad considering that we had middle seats. Luckily we were able to procure the bulkhead and, therefore, had plenty of leg room. We meet up with AK (I'll consult with her later about a better 'nym). I'm a bet nervous about finding her since I do not have her flight info, but, really, how hard is it to find a 6-foot Korean girl? I guess we'll find out. For now, I'm going to soak up the western-ness of the London airport and walk through a bookstore or two and enjoy the fact that I can read everything, because it is going to be nine weeks before I see abundant English and true western culture. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to it in most ways.

3...2...1...take off

2006-06-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

I leave in a few hours and on Saturday at 7:20 am Mountain Daylight Time/4:20 pm Eastern European Summer Time I will arrive in Istanbul. We will go directly to our fabulously quaint pension, Empress Zoe (and yeah, that's the Hagia Sophia behind the hotel), that I found for our stay in Istanbul. I'm excited to get there and start our trip! Four days in Istanbul and then it's on to Hisarlik (Troy)! As a right of passage, I will recite the first line of the Iliad in Greek from memory. I'm sure I'll butcher it, but it's something I've gotta do. Now I need to finish packing. I hope I do not follow Skylark's example and forget my underwear.

Why I fear the night

2006-06-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

I feel the tug of exaggerated gravity, gravity of thought, my inner world weighing so much more than the outer. I reach out trying to grip anything, looking around for something or someone to hold on to. It would be better if I could see nothing and could feel no substance around me. That would be better than looking around at all the humanity and feeling the smoothness of your skin knowing that you will not notice me slide downward, and no matter how hard I try my hands will slip.
I can do it this time, I think, but then I feel the delicate touch of razor blades, slightly curved at the tip. They surround my ankle and I feel the sting of inner flesh meeting the cool metallic surface of the blades. Gasping, I look down into thousands of eyes, reflecting my light like prisms, reflecting it in every direction but back at me.
A woman’s voice wafts up from the darkness below the eyes,

Give it up

But maybe I won’t have to go, this time --too hopeful

You say that every time. Come now and the blades won’t cut too deep and we’ll be able to mend you back to normal

I notice the blades are some kind of deformed digits attached to a spindly, scaly leg that reaches outward then is jerked back toward the eyes by a knobby joint at an impossible angle.

How can you say that when you know you are just going to rend me to pieces when I sink beneath

Hmm, that is true, but we’ll stitch you up real nice. No one will ever know

That’s the problem

A deep chuckle and the blades reach higher shearing skin cells apart from each other as if my legs were really just made of hundreds of miniscule zippers. As the eyes get closer, my eyes focus on two that seem to match, the laugh deeps and turns masculine and the eyes sink back into a face. Ice eyes and pale white skin that does not shine in the dim light, but instead seems to absorb it. A face I know well; a face that has haunted my dreams and subconscious for years.

Come

I cannot speak. I cannot move. I can only gaze desperately into those almost white irises and sink further. His hands reach up gripping the hair behind my ears in firm fists.

Now!

He yanks me forward toward his death-pale face and blood-red lips.
Pulling me down. Pulling me in.

Pulling me inward.

7 days 'til take off

2006-06-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to blog for awhile but never could get things into words before my short attention span forced me to seek a new activity. Life has been crazy, good, but crazy. I'm stressed with the packing, but I'm extremely excited about the adventures I will be pursuing. I leave in a week. I hope to blog while I'm in Turkey and Jordan, just to keep everyone updated. I don't have time to write a full post at the moment so I'll just post my latest poem.

A Distant Night

Skin hot and humid as sex
but your hand sliding up my skin
and tongue pressing on my lips
are as platonic as far-flung Pluto
ever orbiting my orange flame
my heat stretched thin
traversing
space
to lick your lunar face

Better this than the satellite static and
distance distance masks
Better this than face a dream
no sleep could pin down
Better this.

sweet stories

2006-05-09T20:58:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I drove up to my uncle and aunt's house in Pleasant View to have dinner with the random fragments of my extended family that happen to live in Utah. It was a great night of good food, cute first-cousins-once-removed, good music, and a rousing game of Pictionary. While the rest of the family was playing, I asked my Grandpa about meeting my Grandma and this is a short version of their story:

Clive helped drive up a group of singing mothers so they could sing in general conference. Another man helping drive this group of singing ladies happened to be Bea's uncle. Upon arrival in Salt Lake, Bea's uncle took Clive into the bank that Bea worked at and introduced them. Clive then took Bea out every night that week that he was in town. He says that he loved Bea from the first moment he saw her. At the end of that week, they had their first kiss in the rumble seat of the car. Clive then drove back to Arizona and the correspondence began. Letters continued throughout Clive's mission to the mid-west and then throughout his posts with the airline in South America. Clive then decided that he was in love with Bea and he wanted to marry her. They are now 87 years old and still in love.

My grandmother said that if you added up all their real dates after that first week they would add up to little over one week. I thought the story was cute and too much goes unrecorded. The risk of letting this story disappear has compelled me to write this short version of it here and a longer one elsewhere. Besides, it's such a sweet story.

Memorial Weekend

2006-05-09T20:57:00.000-07:00

All I have to say is that memorial weekend is going to rock! I'm so excited! Spending money that I really don't have right now is not that exciting, but I think it will be worth it. :)

Springtime Hike

2006-05-03T17:36:00.000-07:00

Today, on a whim, I decided to go hike the Y. The reasons were: 1) I haven’t really worked out in about 3 months since I have been sick and I needed exercise, 2) It was a beautiful day and I needed to work on my tan anyway, 3) because I do random stuff like that. So, I take my camera backpack, a bottle of water that I then forgot in the car, and a notebook. I got about 1/8th of the way up the mountain when I got bored. To me it’s not hiking unless you have to use your hands. What do you think I did at this point? Yeah, I turned around went back down and took a different “trail” that went up the rocky ridge directly south of the Y ridge. I ended up going up the canyon a bit and then up onto the second from highest outcropping of rock. The “trail”, or what I thought was a trail, disappeared about halfway up, but I was enjoying the hike too much to stop. I ended clambering up a steep slope and scratching the hell out of my legs and arms in the process (um, Capri pants and a tank top aren’t ideal hiking clothes). I saw a bright assortment of ants, spiders, and other creepy crawlers. After scrambling over rocks for awhile, I found a nice flat rock to lay on and catch some rays. It was nice to detach from the world below and get some alone time. On my way back down the mountain I saw two deer and managed to get some pictures. I also saw a hawk, but I was sliding down the face of the mountain at the time so I didn’t get any pictures. All in all, it was a wonderful way to spend a spring afternoon. Next time, though, I’ll bring water and maybe eat something before I go hiking so I don’t feel like passing out by the time I get back. This is the way I wanted to spend my spring: seeking adventure.

no poetry before bed, young lady

2006-04-15T01:01:00.000-07:00

I need to stop reading poetry right before I go to sleep. Why? Well, when I read poetry right before I sleep I tend to think in metaphor all night. This means that I will wake up 3-6 times in the night trying to remember glimpses of images and the sounds of the perfect words that I never seem to be able to find during my waking hours. This is not conducive to a good night's sleep and usually I can't even remember the lines and ideas that I had dreamed.

This happened to me about a month ago (see Dreaming in verse) and then again Thursday night. I was reading Guy Davenport's translations of Archilochos' fragments before I went to bed and woke up thinking of metaphors for nothingness and imagery to explain the feelings of desperation (neither of which I can remember). This is one of the only set of lines that I managed to write down during the night (I think it was about 4 am). I have no idea where the image came from. I don't even like eggs.

like the cracking of an egg
the sun yolk slithers
down
the smooth slope of the
sky bowl

Really weird. Sometimes I'm amazed at the depths of my mind that I have never even seen or explored. Sometimes ideas crawl their way out of the depths of my mind (you know, the place where it mingles with my soul) and shimmy their way down my tongue where they dangle on the tip waiting for an unguarded moment to come pouring forth eliciting shock from not only those around me but from myself as well. Case in point. See what I mean?!

525600 minutes

2006-04-12T17:15:00.000-07:00

One year you say.
Ask you again in 365 days.
You want to see me again in 8760 hours.
A year.

I don't think I can wait that long.
I've never been patient.

I'm speechless, but not witless

2006-04-11T16:59:00.002-07:00

Yesterday, I gave my teacher a poem I wrote (recreated below for your enjoyment) because I had talked to him about the reverse Daphne image that I was thinking about, but I refused to let him see my rough draft, so I thought I would let him read the finalish product. I also wanted to know what he thought about it. He read it and his reaction was quite flattering.

So here is the poem. It turned out a lot more physical/sexual than I thought it would (you've been warned).

“Apollo, convince me otherwise”

your weight presses me down,
ripping the fragile gauze of time,
until the mattress liquefies,
cupping our passion in its hands.

when sarcasm turns acidic, you
throw me against the wall and,
bruising lips with lips, suck
the words from the tip of my tongue.

your visceral song pierces my
core and my sap blushes red and
pulses through my limbs and I uproot
to dance against your skin.

My ode to water

2006-04-01T18:51:00.000-07:00

After going to the gym yesterday and running 1.5 miles and biking 8 miles, I realized that I wish I had forgone the boring treadmill and bike and had swum laps instead. I think I get a better workout quicker on the treadmill and bike, but I miss swimming a lot. Last semester I took a swimming class and I loved being back in a disciplined swimming environment. It wasn’t hard, considering it was a beginning class and I swam team when I was a kid, but it was nice to have a time that was set aside for swimming.
Growing up in a desert, I grew up in a place where nearly everyone had a pool in their backyard. In the summer, I lived in the pool, because it was too hot to do anything else. Actually, that’s not true, there are plenty of people who did not swim nearly as much as me, including my sister. I lived in the water. As I got older and quit team, in the summer, I would still wake up in the morning and swim some laps as the sun rose above our rooftop. I would then wrap myself in a fluffy towel, grab my book, and read in our hammock. I’d invariably fall asleep and wake up as the people in my family started shuffling around doing their morning routines.
The point is that I really miss having a convenient outdoor pool in which to go swimming. A pool whose main purpose is not a meat market for desperate BYU males, who get excited at the idea of seeing the thighs and shoulders of the usually covered BYU girls. Bleh. I want to go swimming and lay in the sun reading a good book without the annoying interruption of silly giggling.
My favorite part of those early morning swim sessions is the silence. I could actually hear the water as it slipped down my limbs and my strokes would begin to match the rhythm of my heart. As my body warmed with the exertion, I could feel every movement and wave of water against my body and I would find that perfect balance of push and glide that would send me sailing through the water. No, not ‘through’, because that implies resistance, but when I find that balance it is almost as if the water lifts and propels me forward. However, that balance did not last long because soon my arms and legs tired and I would have to breathe at almost every stroke, but it is for those moments that I woke up to swim in the morning hours with none to disturb me. I felt at home in the water’s embrace. Now I think I’ll go swimming.

Why you should read warning labels

2006-03-28T18:44:00.000-07:00

For unknown reasons, I thought that last Sunday was fast Sunday. Probably because of something I heard my mother say while I wasn’t really paying attention. This is an amazing phenomenon of my mind; I am capable of spacing out, but still catch the key words of what the people around me are saying. Somewhere in my mind, it registers that these things are important and then stores them. When I go to recall what someone has said, my mind then backforms the conversation around the key words and gives me what it thinks is the most plausible explanation for that specific sequence of key words.
This is probably what happened this weekend. On Saturday, while I was chillin’ with my family in SLC, my grandpa and I began discussing our gospel doctrine lessons for the next day. Now, my grandfather is one of those people who always has to be right and thinks he knows everything. This is what makes him a great lawyer and at the same time really annoying to me. So, he was attempting to dictate to me how I should give my lesson and I stopped paying attention. At this point, my mom chimed in, knowing I was getting irritated, and was talking about Sunday in general. I still wasn’t paying attention. I’m sure the words and phrases ‘Sunday’, ‘fast’, ‘before General Conference’, and ‘this’ were said at some point and, thinking that it might be important when my conscious returned from its mental vacation elsewhere, my mind stored the words for later. When I was thinking about the conversation later my mind supplied me with this backformation: “This Sunday is the Sunday before General Conference and, therefore, it is fast Sunday.”
I didn’t even think to confirm the validity of this statement and just assumed that the next day was fast Sunday. So, upon waking on Sunday, I hurriedly finished my lesson for class and took my antibiotic on my way out the door. I was fasting.
This is really not a big deal and I think that the Lord would have been okay with me fasting an extra Sunday, or (heaven forbid!) would allow me to substitute my anachronistic fast for the real one next week. The problem was not the fast; the problem was the antibiotic. The warning label tells me not to take it on an empty stomach and my stomach was definitely empty when I got to church. Now, I’m not feeling too great anyways and am still recovering from being sick, so when the room started spinning and my head started hurting, I was not happy and I couldn’t seem to shove the discomfort aside like I usually do. However, I couldn’t go home. I had to teach the lesson in gospel doctrine and I couldn’t pass it off to Skylark, because she has had to do the lessons for the last two weeks since I was sick. Therefore, I went to Sunday school and taught, but I took off my heels (the shoes, not the body part) and explained that I was less likely to fall over with my feet firmly planted on the floor (I was really tempted to change that preposition to ‘in’ because of the cool images that it calls to mind). I also didn’t seem to be thinking before I spoke and ended up musing out loud whether or not Potiphar’s wife was hot because that would make a huge difference in how big of a temptation her invitation was. Despite my headache and dizziness the lesson went well, but I definitely went home after class to get some food in my stomach.
The moral of the story is to read the warning labels on your medication and not to fast on any Sunday but the one that was arbitrarily set aside for that purpose.

My Life: in pictures

2006-03-19T21:00:00.000-07:00

I thought it was weird that I haven't posted any pictures yet, especially since I recently got the new digital body for my camera. So, I thought I would create a photo-journal of my life at college.

This pretty much sums it up: Diet Coke w/ lime and Sappho

One of my many bookshelves

Good morning, Skylark!

My study spot

My neighborhood

My roommate

There you go. My life in pictures. I promise to write a real post sometime soon.

It's official

2006-03-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

It's official. I have whooping cough. So, if you have been in contact with me and you start developing a cough get tested immediately (even if you've been immunized because so have I). Now I have to figure out how to withdraw from classes with a medical emergency.

I'm a big kid now

2006-03-14T10:48:00.000-07:00

I’m so sick of being sick. I seem to continually walk the line between being sick and just not feeling well. This persistent cough hurts and I really can’t afford to fall further behind, especially in Arabic. However, the doctor has put me on enough drugs to ensure that I will not be able to walk straight of the next 3-4 days. This does not bode well for my grades this semester.

I guess it is necessary to step back and make certain that my body is recovering, instead of constantly working on the edge of my physical capabilities. However, I have found it difficult to stay in bed and not be doing some kind of academic work. I have never had this problem before. I was once able to stay in bed all day and do nothing; there were days when I would pretend to be sick just so I could stay home to finish the book I was reading or to finish a drawing I was working on. One time I faked being sick because I had an inexplicable desire to learn how to play ‘Moonlight Sonata’ on the piano (it’s still the only song I know on the piano).

However, those days are gone and now I find myself jumping up every ten minutes or so to go look up a due date or to check if the conjugations that I was doing in my head were correct. All I can think of is how I am just falling more and more behind than I already was. I actually considered not taking the medication given to me until Wednesday so that I could study and take my Arabic midterm and finish up a paper I was working on. My mom and Skylark finally convinced me that I was being an idiot and so I’m sitting here at home fretting about all the work I have to do. I wonder when I grew up and became an adult, who is incapable of relaxing and enjoying the moment (however brief) of freedom from academia. I don’t think that the stress is helping the recovery process. I just want to yell at my body, “GET BETTER! DAMN IT!,” and I just did. I think my Thai roommates are a bit frightened now. I better go explain.

I appologize to Sappho in advance

2006-03-06T03:10:00.000-07:00

This is tonight's rather pathetic attempt at sapphic meter. English does not lend itself to sapphic and I am new to writing with a specific meter in mind. Some of it still feels forced and I had to give up the meter at the end of the second line because I refused to change the word 'echo'. It also does not have a name and I am not even sure if it is finished yet (or if I will ever finish it).
With all my disclaimers taken care of, here we go:

Those insatiable eyes shall sear my marrow,
And resonating life, his voice will echo
Through hallow halls deep within my eager mind
(And again he'll sing)

Bewitching as well-written time sustaining lines
Lines which were Sappho’s that arose and fell
Dancing beats of samba that only are felt
Deep within my heart.

The four things virus that seems to be going around

2006-03-03T13:27:00.000-07:00

Tagged by Sky Child. Here I go.

Four Jobs I've Had
Mythology TA
Freelance Editor
April Cornell Sales Rep.
Afterschool Program Teacher for an Elementary School

Four Movies I can watch over and over
Gardenstate
Chocolat/Amelie
Gladiator
Fantasia (or any disney movie for that fact)

Four Places I've Lived
Minnesota
Arizona
Spain
Utah

Four TV Shows I Love
Arrested Development
What Not To Wear
Simpsons (the older variety)
Anything remotely amusing when I'm in the mood to watch TV

Four highly regarded and recommended TV shows that I've never watched a single minute of
Lost
The Office
The Sopranos
Desperate Housewives

Four Places I've Vacationed (um, I'm going to have to be vague)
Europe
South America
Asia
Africa

Four of my favorite dishes
crepes
curry
my mom's chicken chile
sushi

Four sites I visit daily
dictionary.oed.com
gmail.com
myfamily.com
um, this one

Four Places I'd Rather Be Right Now
In Barcelona at my window working on a painting
With A. anywhere he is (probably on the ski slope)
Turkey (I'm not patient, I want to go now)
Anywhere that doesn't require me to have finished my Arabic homework in 2 hours

Four* Bloggers I am tagging
nope, not happening

Dreaming in verse

2006-03-01T03:41:00.000-07:00

So the weirdest thing happened to me the other night. I was dreaming of Greek and sentences that I wanted to translate into Greek (I know I'm slightly neurotic), when I half-woke up and dragged myself out of bed. I then proceeded to shuffle my way to the piece of drawing paper that hangs on the wall outside my bedroom and scribbled a stanza of poetry and shuffled my way back to bed. SkyChild was still up studying and she told me that it was pretty bizarre when I emerged not to get a drink nor to go to the bathroom, but to relieve myself in a more poetic fashion. In the morning, I woke up remembering what I had done but not remembering exactly what I wrote. To my surprise the short quasi-poem was actually comprehensible.
This is what I wrote in my sleep:

Soaring Eros
Sings nightsongs in
My ear and
Listening,
I weep.

2006-02-24T22:07:00.000-07:00

I flew home today to visit my family for the weekend (everyone needs a break from P-Town every once in awhile), and we went to the a fine art exhibition. The art was amazing, but what I enjoyed the most was actually talking to the artists themselves. I quickly lost my parents and stated talking with an amazing young artist named Kris. His long brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck made him look like a cliche. He sat bent over a canvas-in-progress his lips were slightly parted as if the colors that mingled on the canvas were actually spilling forth out of his mouth from the depths of his body. As I looked at the muted beauty that prevailed on his canvases, he asked me which was my favorite. I answered that his painting entitled Echo was my favorite because it looked like liquified earth that still seemed to be in motion. After that, we fell into easy conversation about art, literature, and life in general. Aparently we both have a fondness for Billy Collins and Philip Larkin. We spoke about how smaller paintings are more difficult and how that was similar to writing poetry, because in poetry every word counts and on small canvases every stroke counts. All in all, he was a fascinating man. I also spoke with a girl named Asha who is originally from India and we fell into conversatoin about her artwork and traveling and the influences on her work. I liked a set of two paintings by her entitled Soul Search I & II. It was a very enjoyable experience and makes me want to pull out my paints once I get back to Utah. Art is so powerful, but also so draining. After this weekend, I think I'll try my hand once again at painting my soul.

No one likes feeling stupid.

2006-02-21T08:44:00.002-07:00

I was not aware that ‘retarded’ was such an uncouth word in today’s society. I guess I assumed that everyone had accepted the amelioration and spread of this word's usage beyond the sphere of psychology. I would never use the word in reference to another person because that would be rude, however, I have no problem using this adjective when referring to inanimate objects as the word can hardly be misconstrued to be an insult to that objects mental capacities considering it has none.
I was sadly mistaken in this matter, which I unfortunately found out by declaring the ancient Greek word for ‘ship’ retarded. At which point my professor threw a piece of chalk in my general direction (this is a normal occurrence and not notable in and of itself) however, what followed, was a rant that I thought was totally uncalled for. It went something like this:

Professor: What did you say?
Me:(always wanting to be honest) I said the word is retarded
Professor: Did you mean retarded or did you mean gay?

This was very disconcerting to me, since I do not find those words similar at all, so I then repeated that no, indeed, I said and, yes, meant retarded. At which point he rants about stepping up our language above that of the average student… blah, blah, blah...

Professor: Not that I care if you swear or anything like that…
Me: (I love getting permission) Ah Hell. Ya for real? Damn it
Professor: hmm, Hell in the vocative (sometimes my professor is just awesome) but I meant I don't care if you swear outside of the classroom

At which point he said something else insulting in anger, but I can't quite remember what. All I remember is that next I swore vehemently in Arabic (a language he doesn’t know) and he responded with equal vehemence in a language I did not know. All in all it was a bizarre class period. I was kind of pissed that he would imply that I was prejudiced or homophobic, because I am not and did not use ‘retard’ in that manner, so I’m still kind of pissed at him. Seriously, he isn't morally superior because he is so-called 'liberal' any more than I am morally superior for being mormon. I guess we’ll see how it goes today.

Headlights

2006-02-12T04:36:00.000-07:00

The headlight shines through the window causing the window to light up, shining like thousands of diamonds on a vertical glass table or the tears of hundreds of children glittering as they turn their eyes skyward seeking peace.

Rewriting Creation

2006-02-04T12:07:00.000-07:00

The word is the most powerful tool. God created the world, the light, the dark, with words. In the beginning was the word….

That is the power of the original, perfect language that we have lost. But we still have fragments left. Diluted, but still powerful. We are gods in embryo and are driven to create as God creates. That is why every culture throughout history has produced literature whether oral or written. That is why we feel driven to create music, literature and art. But literature. Literature is the most powerful of all because it uses the most powerful medium. The author creates a world using language, just as God did. However, literature is bigger than just one world, because not only is a world created when the author writes it but it creates a blueprint from which thousands of worlds are built, a new one created whenever someone reads the book. The reader is therefore creating their very own world, even if they never thought it possible for them to do so, or felt any artistic inclination at all. It lies within all of us. Authors just make it more accessible for everyone else.

Riiiiing....This is your 5 o'clock wake up call

2006-01-25T00:44:00.000-07:00

It could have been worse. Much worse. I could now be one of those people that I used to pity from a distance without even the slightest comprehension of their position. I could now be among the ranks of other fatherless children, whose father was suddenly and inexplicably torn from their lives. But I'm not and I thank God for the extra time granted to my father.
However, the incident has driven home some important ideas.

Time is fleeting. This concept I had only understood in its limited faculty as a restrictor of the amount of things I could complete in a given amount of time. Now I understand that these limited encounters represent the rule rather than the exception and are the stencil for an overarching pattern. Not only are the minutes and hours flying by, but whole months, decades, and lifetimes are swiftly flowing through our fingers. My dad's life almost slipped through. It makes me want to hold on tighter, sealing any crack between my fingers through which a minute or year could slip virtually unnoticed.

Life is fragile. We are all walking a tight-rope and a simple misstep would end our show. We sit like a glass vase perched on the very edge of the table, waiting for God to accidently brush us as he passes by or for Him to inadvertently bump the table on His way to His bedroom after a long, tiring day of omniscience. When that happens our fragile glass bodies will be spent. This does not mean that we should peek over the edge and constantly worry about that inevitable fall, but it would be sheer stupidity to not, at least, acknowledge the existence of the drop-off.

I'm Tired Of

2005-12-04T23:57:00.000-07:00

The sameness of sibilant steam
For early morning tea;
The sound of soft snoring
From the other rooms or
Lifesavers stale n sticky
Under cushion seats

The humdrum drone of
Frustrated poets
Dreaming they're great and I
A frequent flier
Just for longing for
Freedom or escape.

Sameness sticky with its
Familarity
I wish to
Move beyond the stale cold air
That surrounds me hissing
With the sound of
Shifting snow; silent
Footsteps that
Return home once again
From their long journey
Elsewhere

Excuse me...come again?

2005-11-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

What do you do when you are torn between the safe and easy route and the unknown and adventurous route?
Usually I would definitively express preference for the unknown, but now that I'm faced with that choice in a larger, life-route decision, I'm not so sure.
A Masters and then a PhD--thats easy and safe. I know how to go about doing that. I know the universities to apply to, I know how to write, and how to research. It is a safe path that I'm sure I would find happiness walking.
However, something alluring and unshakeable is lurking in the back of my mind. Service, health, refugees, poverty, culture: these things roll around in my mind and awakens the part of me that has always known that my place is not here, but elsewhere; somewhere abroad. My work is not the self-enriching work of the scholar but the work of a self-sacrificing servant to people unknown.
Do I have the courage to follow a dream when I do not even know where to start or how to prepare? I guess we'll see...

The Night of Inti-illimani

2005-11-05T14:56:00.000-07:00

The purpose of music is to express what is too beautiful for words. It communicates to the parts of our souls that no language can. Music comes closest of all communication to speaking the language we lost in the fall. Our tongues were not made to speak the language of the angels, but we can attempt to imitate those glorious sounds with song.

‘How was the show?’ you ask me.
To try to describe it would cheapen the experience.
Nevertheless, I will share some of my thought.

Soaring high on currents of inspiration the notes plunge down and pierce my chest where they quiver in perfect harmony with the vibration of my soul.
The beat sneaks behind my ribcage urging me up and round and round. The drums sing of movement and my body moves to obey the call.

If plants were made from notes, sunsets of melodies, and animals were made from rhythms; Inti-illimani would have just recreated Eden in each atom of my frame. They have struck my stone and bright water springs forth and I will never want or thirst for inspiration as long as their notes resonate in my memory.

What Dreams Can Come On a Sleepless Night

2005-10-31T12:03:00.000-07:00

The tick of the clock speaks to me of silence that seems all the more cacophonous for the stillness.
The air sits heavy in the room and against my skin. Pushing me down toward unconsciousness.
I struggle to remain aware, for the stillness is the indrawn breath that the audience holds before the show.
Though the clock only speaks of silence, the show must be proportionately more exquisite for the anticipation.

Time Politely Says "Excuse Me"

2005-10-26T01:39:00.000-07:00

Days swim by, unnoticed and unnoted. My life slips by unrecorded and soon all these feelings and thoughts will go the way of all ephemeral things. They will die and, soon afterward, forgotten. And yet, I do nothing to stem the flow. I do not even dip my hands in and try futilely to cup the memories as they slowly leak through my fingers. Scrap pieces of paper and a few jotted notes are all I have and the wind scatters them like leaves from my book.

Brain Dead

2005-10-24T19:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like you are on the edge of consciousness but you are actually wide awake?
Umm...me neither.
My brain called in sick this weekend, but I don't think it was really sick. I think it just needed some R&R. However, it was similar to a CEO calling in sick in a large corporation, actually that's a bad example. It was like a chef calling in sick in a small restaurant. I no longer functioned correctly. I could only do the things that were habit or natural. People kept talking to me, but since my mind was else were, I was unable to respond much. My brain is back though, which is a very good thing and I'm functioning at almost 100% (My brain is a bit lackadaisical since it just got back from vacation).
Welcome back brain!