31 aug 2012

what will you think if i do not say hello
to you
what will you think if i just walk right on by
what will you think if i do not say hello
to you
if i don't say hello will you think that means goodbye

i came to your house when you said you'd be there but your lights were all out there was nobody there so i went to the door just to leave you a note and that's when i saw there another man's coat on the hook by the door where i'd hung mine before and i knew when i saw that i'd see you no more

what will you think if i do not say hello
to you
what will you think if i just walk right on by
what will you think if i do not say hello
to you
if i don't say hello will you think that means goodbye

30 aug 2012

math class
whisper plans
pass notes
hold hands

homecoming
football
crowned queen
nightfall

shy smile
school dance
first kiss
romance

magic night
over soon
drive home
full moon

young love
hope full
see you monday
at school

29 aug 2012

in 1998, i had the opportunity to take a covey "7 habits" class with an odd mix of coworkers and for one of the exercises, we had to write a mission statement. i found this yesterday, tucked in the book like a time capsule.

----------

Personal Mission Statement

To find happiness, fulfillment, and value in living I will:

LEAD a life centered around the principles of integrity, humility, encouragement, and patience.

REMEMBER what's important in life is truth, order, effort, health, and personal growth.

REVERE admirable characteristics in others, such as being wise, balanced, caring, responsible, compassionate, and industrious, and attempt to implement similar characteristics in my own life.

RECOGNIZE my strengths and develop talents as a person who is a communicator, athletic, hard-working, a visionary, intelligent, and energetic.

HUMBLE myself by acknowledging that I can be pessimistic, excessive, and sarcastic and by constantly striving to transform my weaknesses into strengths.

ENVISION myself becoming a person who friends and family think has these traits: clever, intelligent, industrious, athletic, organized, fun, and creative.

----------

jeez. what a dork.

28 aug 2012

several years ago i lucked into a large cubicle. in a world where size matters, there are rules about who gets what, and according to those rules, i should not have been allowed to have had a cubicle that large, but you've got to make hay while the sun shines. that's how i got the big office. hayshine. now, in case you missed it, i got the promotion (woo hoo!) and as a result, i am rightfully entitled to the size office i already have. of course, i cannot stay in this one - i must move to a new one, and today was moving day. i was convinced i'd have just a few things to move, but OMG was i wrong and wrong again. books, papers, office supplies, sure, but a ton of other crap, too, and i hate that word 'crap' because it's overused but OMG this stuff is crap. a big pile of crap is what a big office engenders. today, circumstances dictated that i move in a bit of a hurry, so i simply lugged load after load of that crap up those stairs. but come tomorrow, some of that crap's going where the hay don't shine.

27 aug 2012

it doesn't matter how many times they say
how lucky you are
(you know, to be alive and whatnot)
because that life you are so lucky to have is
suddenly empty
in a way that only a full life can be
suddenly emptied
which is to say suddenly filled
by an emptiness sprung fully-formed
and so vast
that you cannot swallow it down
it pushes at you until you choke
on the unfulfilled fullness
of a dream

26 aug 2012

body in the
railway station
cause of death
asphyxiation

detectives on the case

follow clues and
catch a killer
live inside a
dime-store thriller

detectives on the case

what's it like to
be a gumshoe
solving crimes like
teevee come true

detectives on the case

lab results don't
show as quickly
as they always
do on teevee

detectives on the case

other cops are
probably dumber
than on teevee
what a bummer

detectives on the case

on teevee they
wear armani
stay up late and
eat pastrami

detectives on the case

in real life it's
probably boring
stinky work that
leaves 'em snoring

detectives on the case

follow clues and
catch a killer
live inside a
dime-store thriller

detectives on the case

body in the
railway station
cause of death
asphyxiation

detectives on the case

detectives on the case

detectives on the case

25 aug 2012

have you heard the story of the messed up jesus painting? on a column in a church in spain was a fresco called "ecco homo" which means "behold the man". in case you don't know, a fresco is a painting made using watercolours directly on a wall or ceiling when the plaster is wet so that the painting becomes part of the wall. this particular 100-yr-old painting wasn't particularly famous and was decaying, so a granddaughter of the artist donated some money to the church so that they could have it restored. before they had a chance to get started, though, some lady took it upon herself to do the work. the problem was that she completely lacks the requisite talent and has rendered a lovely painting completely ridiculous.


how does that happen? what made her think it was okay for her to take this task on in the first place? then, it's clear from the pictures that she must have been at it for quite a while. how can no one have seen her working? and if they did see, why didn't they stop her? and why did it take so long for her to realise that she was destroying the painting? i mean, after a couple strokes, i think you'd have to say to yourself: this isn't going well. right? i mean, c'mon. this is ridiculous.

24 aug 2012

does randy travis have an album coming out? first, he gets caught dancing nekkid by the side of the road, and then, two weeks later he's scuffling in a church parking lot. way to get your name in the papers, randy, my man!

---

speaking of names in the papers, this family of four was stranded at the SLC airport for five days. they had traveled from virginia to SLC on "buddy" passes which in case you don't know what's a buddy pass, it is the sort of pass an airline worker can hook you up with and it puts you at the bottom of the heap for getting on flights. you're after any sort of paying or regular standby passenger. (with buddies like that... haha.) anyhoo - i cannot believe these folks got to SLC from virginia with even a poor imitation of alacrity whilst utilising buddy passes and additionally am in no way surprised they had trouble getting home. i mean, i am sorry for them and all because five days is a lot of sink baths, but i am not convinced they explored all paths at their disposal or that we're getting the whole story here. for example, were they offered the option of splitting up into pairs in order to obtain seating? did they refuse to fly through dallas? why is that boy wearing shades? i think you see where i am going. please find out more and report back here ASAP. tnx.

---

speaking of stranded, this couple reports that they are stranded in their home. what a calamity! oh, the humanity! how can that be?? well, see, a bridge washed out and they have been stranded in their home for two years!! two YEARS!! huh? what? you said what -- they HAVE left?? um... yeah, turns out they are not actually stranded because they can get across the crick on their 4-wheeler and then into their car parked on the other side. so, not stranded so much as hassled. they have requested the county to build them a bridge and are putting up a big stink over it, and the county commissioners do not want to build the bridge and are stinking right back at them. now, i don't know for sure exactly how it's done, but i don't think getting contentious is going to help because from what i have heard, love can build a bridge.

---

speaking of love, hobos love me. not to be confused with bum or tramp, the hobo is a working traveler, riding the rails seeking honorable labor. these folk are on the whole a friendly lot, if you're friendly to them. i find favor with them, they find favor with me, and i fancy myself to be somewhat of a queen of the hobos. after reading this article which descartes sent to me, i can confidently state that i am qualified to be queen. after all, who would not want to associate with folks who have demonstrated such an admirable handle on the can/may differential.

23 aug 2012

marc mariani, one of my favourite titans, was injured tonight in the final preseason game of 2012. i am not sure the video's on google yet, but it will be. in the meantime, here's what happened: in the process of brilliantly returning a punt, marc was tackled, and in the process of that tackle, his leg was caught awkwardly and... it broke. it was one of those stomach-turning scenes - you can see the leg bend and then bend too far and then there's this view of his leg sticking up in the air and either he has go-go-gadget legs, or there are too many bends in that limb. yikes! yikes! what is his foot doing pointing that way??



it will be a long recovery for marc. he's young and will have the best of care, but still, that is just not the sort of thing that heals quickly. during the course of tonight's game, a young man trotted onto the field for the cardinals and chris berman said - that young man is playing his first game since last year when, as a rookie, he sustained a season-ending knee injury in the final preseason game. looks like next year at this time, that young man will be marc.

22 aug 2012

would you rather
eat a mouse turd or have half your head shaved?

would you rather
stand barefoot in snow for 3 mins or moonwalk through the grocery store for 3 mins?

would you rather
have 1/2oz of beer poured in your nose or in your ear?

would you rather
be hit on the foot with a hammer or hit on the head with a dodgeball?

would you rather
lose use of your dominant hand or go blind?

would you rather
sleep for 24 hours or not sleep for 24 hours?

would you rather
eat a donut or a bagel?

would you rather
go swimming every day for a month or watch a baseball game every day for a month?

would you rather
go to the dentist or give blood?

well?

would you??

21 aug 2012

i place my life on hold.
i sit, playing games-with-friends
(thank you, zynga, for forever transforming downtime)
in vain pursuit of patience.
i bide my time.
i sit.
i wait.

how can you make me wait?
(why do i let you?)

do you imagine i can't find another [insert service professional here]?
(do i imagine samewise?)

what makes you think your time's more valuable than mine?
(what makes me think that?)
(or, think that you think that?)
(or, think that you think that i think that?)

where are you
where are you
where are you

where are you
where are you
where are you

i know if i start [insert productive way to spend my time here] you will immediately show up -- unless i start [insert productive way to spend my time here] to force your hand. i mean i can't be [insert productive way to spend my time here]ing ironically. i have to actually give up on you and [insert productive way to spend my time here].

and if i do
give up on you
then tell me who
wins -
do i win
or do you?

where are you
where are you
where are you

where are you
where are you
where are you

and, in the end, it's off to chick-fil-a (oh, stop, it's only chicken) and the wine store (that's right), then home to eat the bag of republican dreams and wash the cars. you never did show up, but that's okay. we emailed your boss.

20 aug 2012

it's gotten to the point where i am having to write it all down. between remodeling the house and remodeling my fitness, not to mention starting a big new job, my poor ickle bwain cannot hang in there. i'm not generally a planner - i like to leave things open so's i can take the best offer - which doesn't require writing things down. i mean, it's pretty much the opposite of writing things down.

note-making per se isn't a bother. i don't mind note-making, and in fact, i've always been a bit of a note-maker all through school and even at work seminars and whatnot. i am covered up also with lists of things i want to do, books i want to read, places i want to go, blah, blah, blah. no... noting isn't a bother at all.

and, although i would not say i am big on commitment, i would not say i am particularly afraid of it. contractor coming tuesday next at 5? super, i'll be there! soccer game in two weeks on sunday afternoon? stellar, put me down for that! all the gang joining in a 5k? dynamite, tell me when!

no, it's not that i particularly mind committing (to a few things). it's simply that, being unused as i am to such ways, i will forget that i have done so... or, i will remember the commitment, but forget the day.

19 aug 2012 (2)

that's when i feel helpless
sort of hopeless
sort of everything i do is wrong
everything i say is wrong
you were looking not for answers
not from me
you only wanted sympathy
and needed me to hear your voice again
but
that's when i feel helpless
sort of hopeless
sort of everything i do is wrong
everything i say is wrong
you were looking not for answers
not from me
you only wanted sympathy
and needed me to hear your voice again

19 aug 2012

i cooked and ate and cleaned up breakfast, went for a run, showered and dressed and went to the grocery, made lunches for the week and cut up the fruit and plucked grapes & cherries off their stems and cleaned all that up, fixed and ate lunch and cleaned all that up, took out the trash, and i am working on the laundry.

these are the lengths i will go to, to avoid my reading assignment.

18 aug 2012

we got there at 0900 but realised we'd arrived without wheelbarrow and no gloves for me so i went back home and whilst there i grabbed some dry cereal to eat on the drive back over (had opted for a run over breakfast). managed to get back before 0930 which is quite quick but of course it was before traffic was up.

i normally do not do yard work. no reason, i just don't. but because i don't mix it up much in the grass and whatnot, i am not well-versed in the various yard chores. so, there i am looking about for a task when i realise i have brought a task with me. (wheelbarrow.) i wheel on out there and start picking up sticks and leaves and piles of grass et cetera and before you know it, i am all down with the raking and shoveling and chopping off branches.

we didn't leave until 1400.

i'm tired now.

17 aug 2012

are you ready for some football? (fuh- fuh- f-football)
ready (ruh- ruh- r-ready)
for some football

are you (are you)
are you ready (are you)
are you ready

it's football (are you ready)
it's time (are you ready)
it's football (are you ready)
ruh- ruh- r-ready

for some football (r-ready)
for some football (r-ready)
are you ready (r-ready)
are you ready (r-ready)
are you ready (it's football)
it's that time (it's football)
are you ready (r-ready)
for some football (r-ready)
time for football (r-ready)
it's that time (r-ready)

it's football!

16 aug 2012

if only.

if only
it were another time,
another time and place...

if only.

then, no one would need to know.
then, you could stay, i would go.
then, a photograph would simply be a photograph,
your forever frozen smiling face, captured laugh,
reduced to meaningless in its mundanity,
instead of constant haunt to my insanity.

if only.

if only.

15 aug 2012

there's a guy in my bathroom taking measurements in preparation for replacing flooring. we'll replace throughout the house, he's just currently in the lavatory. this is going to be major. when we budget the work, we probably should allocate for a hotel.

14 aug 2012

just like anything else, swimming has its rules. written rules -- don't run on the deck, no horseplay, no diving in the shallows. unwritten rules about how to share lanes and where to place your towel. completely unknowable rules like when they are going to allow a freaking swim meet to exclusively use the entire pool without notice.

i learned to swim at summercamp, where rules are different. i mean, you couldn't run on the docks, but it was a lake not a pool and rules are just different. when i was a freshman in high school, i was on varsity swimming, but that was more to do with my having a painfully angsty crush on the coach, who was also my literature teacher, than it was to do with swimming. who wasn't in love with their literature teacher, after all.

the thing is that now here i am all grown up, yet still not feeling particularly well-versed in pool rules. of course, i know the basics, but it's the unwrittens that will trip me up every time. i am concerned over the unwrittens of something as oft-completed as grocery shopping, so the unwrittens of a thing i rarely do can easily stop me going.

but, see, i really love to swim.

so i get my stuff together and take it to work with me. it is drive-yourself day in carpool, so i can go straight to swimming after work. no excuses. still, i nearly bag it and come home. at the last minute i exit the freeway and enter the recreation complex parking lot. OMG. the place is PACKED. i could leave now... but i park the car and reassess. i am a grownup, goddamit. i can do this thing!

i swear everyone is pointing and staring, and that i am A Person Doing It Wrong, but i persevere, get changed into my bathing attire, and enter the natatorium where there are six short-course lanes set up for recreational lap swimming. every lane already has a swimmer, so i check out who i might want to share with. old guy? maybe. standing-in-shallow-lane lady? possibly. butterfly dude? no freaking way. then, i spot her: Swims with Snorkel.

i kid you not. this grownass woman is wearing a snorkel and mask like the kind you get in the k-mart seasonal summer toy display. i wait for her to finish a lap and ask - okay to share? she's like, SURE! i go, circle or side-by-side? she says it doesn't matter to her, then proceeds to tell me the story of how last week a mean lady at the other rec center across town yelled at her for sharing the lane wrong. that's when i know for certain this is the lane for me. off we go, sharing our lane halfsies, me on one side, her on the other. she's like 300lbs so she's kinda encroaching on my halfsie, but hell, she is wearing a freaking snorkel so i just have to make way.

eventually, other lanes empty, and i claim one to myself, leaving Swims with Snorkel where i found her. there are few enough people here that i don't mind doing a few water ballet moves at each far-end turn, where even the lifeguard won't be watching me, but soon my feet are starting to cramp and it's time to go. i head to the locker room and its attendant anxiety -- imagining some 15-year-old is going to snicker at the way i put on my shorts under my towel, or that i will scare some 5-year-old with a flash of my pasty belly.

i do love to swim, though, and in the end it's worth the trouble. i love water, its buoyancy, how it sneaks into my ears. i love to go under and blow the air out my nose and feel bubbles zoom past my face in their desperate rush. i love the feel of water through my hair, swimming fully submerged. i love how people's feet look, and their arms, from underneath when they are churning away above. i love to swim on my front and my side and my back. i love to swim laps and i love to play around.

and when i am done swimming, i am tired but not so much worn out as... i don't know... relaxed? i am tired in that way that makes you feel not depleted, not made less, but instead made whole... if that even makes sense.

13 aug 2012

tomorrow evening i am going swimming. i am determined to make this happen! it's not like it's difficult - put on swimsuit, get in swimming pool, swim. boom. done.

i have been swimming 6 times so far this year, so 4 more and i will have 10. boom. done.

as for non-fiction reading, i am still a bit stuck. i've finished those 300 pages of cathy alter's up for renewal and i am on page 42 of the pleasure of finding things out by richard feynman, which has 250 pages. so, for those who can't count, this is 550 pages and, as i am aiming for 750, i have a ways to go... yes? i am determined to make this happen! it's not like it's difficult... okay, yes it is. i mean, i like mr feynman and all, but this isn't the sort of reading you can do with your brain off. i am on page 42 out of 250, so rounding a bit we get 210, so if i read 10 pages per day it will take me... a month? is that right? one mere measly month? oh man, merely a measly month. i need to do this thing.

what's left? 1000 miles running. well, i have 400 for the year, so... 600 remaining with 16 weeks to go. that's like 40 miles per week and i can tell you, that is not going to happen. now - before you go getting all disappointed, let me just say that i am working on something in the running department. it's not going to be 1000 miles this year, but it'll be something... you just wait and see.

in the meantime, gotta go do some reading!

12 aug 2012

first indication was the earth-mover. we came around the bend and there it was out front. so it caught my eye and i looked again and saw trees were down and there was another sort of machine, a scooper or somesuch, present also. by then i was outright staring, wanting to figure out what sort of work they were doing around their house when scene came fully into view and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a pile. pile of what exactly? pile of house! windows, doors, support beams, and walls all there in a pile.

when it stood, its L-shape mirrored the road, crook to crook. it had these decks on upper storey that in a weird way made it look almost like a motel. the decks were that fully-boarded 70s style. do you know what i mean? and the house was that 70s squat square, flat-top-with-slanting-sides roof, all shades of brown and darker brown. those squared-off flat-topped houses all look like sergeant carter. do you know what i mean? i tried to find you a picture of it, but relying on google street view didn't pan out.

it stood there at elbow of road's bend, a 70s sentinel to time's passing. to me, it was a landmark of unmatched distinction, but the other riding past with me just now couldn't recall it a bit, and to the folks who lived there it was worth more torn down than standing up.

11 aug 2012

i have a beef with Pretty Day.

75º. sunny. gentle breeze. Pretty Day gets all gussied up and everyone goes wacko chanting "let's do something outside!" which is obnoxious enough but what's worse: "what a Pretty Day! you should be outdoors!" OMG! should? SHOULD?? has it become a crime to sit peacefully on the couch and watch rizzoli&isles? admittedly, they are no cagney&lacey, but watching them isn't so bad as to constitute criminal activity. (which would be ironic, no?)

Pretty Day is a diva. she shows up when she wants to show up and demands attention. have a picnic planned? sorry, Pretty Day cannot be bothered. been neglecting those bathrooms and really need to get them scrubbed? well, here's Pretty Day, come to flounce around with her mild temps and low humidity all up in your grille. step off, Pretty Day!

inside, outside, upside down, i just want to live how i want to live, to hell with Pretty Day. cry all you want, divapants, your rain clouds don't bother me. get all dolled up in your finest blue skies and bright sunshine, but don't expect me to care. i am not playing your games, Pretty Day! if i want to sit inside and watch television, by god i will!

stop looking so smug, Pretty Day. i say WHO and i say WHEN! i chose to sit outside today because i chose to sit outside today. it has nothing to do with you, Pretty Day. nothing at all!

10 aug 2012

when i saw this on the news feed, i was like -- oh WOW. kristen, girl, you look ROUGH. breaking up with mr pattinson was NOT good for YOU! (no, seriously. i was all over that. turns out, not so much with the kristen, here. guess who = three points!)

---

in this case, i thought the story would be about the results of this young lady's olympic endeavors. gold? silver? alas, it is about herself as result set to google queries. that's right -- google "hot olympian" and she's most likely to turn up. her coach must be so proud!

---

can you see this one? when i went to access my email, i saw this message: Server Hangup, and i was like - what the hell, server? we all have our baggage and whatnot, but you seriously need some solid rorschach time if you cannot perform your basic duties. get over yourself.

---

okay this last one is not so much "funny" as "not funny". in europe, if you have a baby and don't want to keep it, you can place it in a baby hatch and an alarm will sound and a caring soul will come along and take your baby. i am not shitting you. apparently this has been going on since medieval times. am i the only one here who didn't know about this? c'mon... this is news to you, right? pictured here is a girl placing a doll in baby hatch, simply a pose, but that hatch looks like a fcking dumpster, does it not? that is like sixteen kinds of bizarre to me whilst simultaneously making perfect sense.

9 aug 2012

i know four boys who are four years old. one has his birthday in january, one in february, one in may, and one in august - two days from now. two are relatives, two are sons of friends. january and february are bright, healthy, vibrant. may is autistic. august has battled cancer. january is jewish, the other three are protestant. february lives in michigan, the other three live in tennessee. may comes to soccer games i'm at, the other three do not. august is blond, the other three are brunette. january and february have dads in their 40s, may's dad and august's are in their 30s. february and may have straight hair, january and august are curly-tops. january's the baby of his family, february is the big brother, may is the only, and august will be the big brother in a few months. all of them like the movie "cars". all wear clothes that come from target. all like to climb on things. all four have pretty smiles.

february and may have met, once, but really they're all strangers to each other, yet they're all separated by one tiny degree... me.

8 aug 2012

1
1-2
1-2 1-2 1-2
3
3-4
3-4 3-4 3-4
5
5-6
5-6 5-6 5-6
7
7-8
7-8 7-8 7-8

9
9-9-9-9-9-9
9
9-9-9-9-9-9
9
9-9-9-9-9-9

8
8
8-8 7
8-8 7 8-7 8-7
6
6
6-6 5
6-6 5 6-5 6-5
4
4
4-4 3
4-4 3 4-3 4-3
2
2
2-2 1
2-2 1 2-1 2-1

86
2
93

42
8
70

36
4
52

63
5
30-2

7 aug 2012

two suggestions from me. you're welcome.

---

the much maligned USPS shall halt all home deliveries. if you want USPS mail, you can go retrieve it from a post office box. pretty sure "receiving mail at your house" is not in the bill of rights, nor is "bombarding the general public with useless adverts". stop being a lazy-larry and deliver the damn adverts by hand. too much expense? well, now you see what the USPS is up against. with the USPS out of the way, commercial mail vendors will compete for home deliveries, driving down prices. alternately, perhaps USPS's presence in the market is presently pulling govt (govt=you+me) subsidies into the equation and artificially holding prices down, so when USPS pulls out of home delivery, home delivery prices will rise until we reach what the market will bear. the experience of shopping online will change as shipping costs change. [and, speaking of online shopping: hey all you dumbasses who think it's great to buy stuff online and not pay sales tax, you might want to look into how your locality relies on sales tax to run the freaking city you live in. i'm not saying you should or shouldn't do what you are or are not doing. i am simply saying you should understand the consequences.]

---

football (soccer) players who fall down in feigned or actual state of injury and remain on the pitch until such time as the referee deems it necessary to stop the game clock in order to check said player's health shall be required to leave the field of play for no less than 2mins without substitution. truly hurt? great, you get a break. feigning? super, you get a punishment. referee is not required to determine if you are truly injured (this can be tricky.) but merely has to see you and deem it necessary to stop the game clock. alternately, play never stops, and if you are hurt, you must crawl to sidelines.

6 aug 2012

channeling my inner 14-year-old, i accepted a baby sitting job tonight. this time, it's not a relative or a neighbor kid or kids of friends of my parents -- no, this time it's a soccer teammate's son. when i was 14, parents were not my peers. and of course, compared to my teen years, i now have a bit more on-the-job type experience with the actual human babies. but no matter how much experience you have it's not exactly fun to sit and listen to a baby cry himself to sleep. there's so much raw need in that sound they make when they're desperately tired and their nose is maybe a tad stuffy and they're starting to teethe. still... i leave him there and eventually he quiets down and as soon as he does, i'm wondering if he's okay. making noise, i'm anxious. quiet down, i'm anxious. these days, tools of the trade have evolved and nursery is equipped with a video monitor, so i can look right there on screen and see his tiny arm move and his tiny chest rise and fall. it's not like i have to go in there and put my hand on his chest. it's not like i have to... but i will.

5 aug 2012

it's easy enough tell someone that they shouldn't take themselves so seriously. easy to say, hard to hear. i mean, if someone tells YOU not to take yourself so seriously, you'd probably want to get serious all up in their grille. am i right? nobody likes for their concerns to be dismissed. no, no. we want others to Recognise. the problem is that so few of us have common aims, and while my stuff intersects yours over here, it doesn't over there. we're a world of venn diagrams and we're all really busy with our personal sets, somewhat busy with the sets that intersect other people's, and in no way concerned about the sets of others that do not touch our sets. that's just how it is.

4 aug 2012

well
i don't know
what you want
me to say

well

it's never as simple (complicated)
as you (i) claim it to be

you don't know what i know that you don't
(and the same could be said for us)
but that is not the same as knowing what we feel
and yet remaining unsure
what it is
that you want
for me
to
say

3 aug 2012

i swear the little buggers have calendars. every august, like calendar-work, the cicadas come out. not those special OMG THEY'RE HERE cicadas, but your basic run-of-the-mill cicadas. in the augusts of my youth and childhood, i was at summercamp, so the sound of the cicadas brings back that most melancholy feeling: campsickness. we're at end of summer, end of summercamp, facing home in all its bittersweet dysfunctional glory. while the other girls hug their BFF's necks, weeping over impending separations, i wander down for one more walk on the lakeshore, one more chance to put my bare feet on the sun-faded wooden docks, one more glimpse of trees on the opposite shore reflected in the still surface of my beloved lach. people will let you down, you know, but the lach... it's got a foreverness to it that you can rely on.

and so here am i now -- watching olympics, relaxed in the recliner, tucked tightly into this climate-controlled environment, and yet from outside these sturdy walls it comes to me... the sound of the cicadas... and same as that ancient sound penetrates this sturdy home, those ancient feelings penetrate the defenses of my soul.

2 aug 2012

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if you really want to go
you would go
when we're going
and you'd know
what we're knowing
don't be rough
love is flowing
be nice.

1 aug 2012

i had a chance to reconnect with her this year at summercamp. i knew her when she was a child, so this was sort of cool, talking to her as an adult. she's quirky, bright, pretty. she's got these sweet almond shaped eyes... and freckles, and long long thick dark hair.

she's what you'd call liberal - and i mean, even if you think you are liberal, you'd find yourself more conservative than this girl. she'd just come out of her freshman year at warren-wilson college but she wasn't going back because warren-wilson was too conventional for her. see? i mean, if warren-wilson is too conventional for you, then it's pretty much all of civilisation that's too conventional for you. she's going to leave the united states (she taught me to say "united states" instead of "america") and work on a farm somewhere... i don't remember.

she's an incredible girl. you'd like her, i know you would. she's intriguing... she's so intriguing. she said she had never heard of god until she came to summercamp, and while summercamp's not primarily a godcamp, there's quite a few mentions of the ol' creator dude throughout the summer. she specifically said, i'm an atheist. she told me this in the context of feeling sort of marginalised and whatnot, which i am glad she told me because i do fancy myself a bit of a nonjudgmental fount of acceptance. i mean, who are we to say what's what? i of course reassured her that being exposed to her atheism would do no damage any of the youngsters for which she had been assigned counselor responsibilities (as someone had told her it would).

i do wish we'd had more time to talk, though... i'd have liked to have learned more about how someone so full of love and life and love of life could disbelieve in a supreme being. now, i really want to be very clear at this point and say i don't imagine that a capacity for love carries with it the requirement for a belief in supreme entity. i am convinced it is possible to have the former without the latter because i have seen it in action (and not only in her). i am not doubting it can be... i am just curious to know how it works.