I just found out that Glenn Beck is a Mormon...I'm aghast... It's sort of like finding out you share DNA with Charles Manson... So, lest any of my dearly Mormon friends and family misunderstand: that man is evil, and psychotic...watch your backs. And don't for a second think he is "one of you." You are good, he is evil.
Kind of like how I dropped out of college--
just sort of got caught up in new currents,
ya know?
Wandered away...
And the guilt! Oh, the guilt!
I miss blogging all the time,
but I know that so many of my dear bloggy companions
are as long gone as I am.
Which makes a return far less enticing.
Besides the fact that I am not
connected-like-Keaneau-in-the-Matrix to it anymore.
It was certainly an addiction for a while there.
Woven into the fabric of my daily life,
like oxygen and cat hair.
Oh wait, that's NOW.
Well, the cat hair infiltrating every aspect of my life, at least...
But I digress.
Maybe when I get a little more distance,
I'll be able to write a book about the two lives I lived.
The first marriage, and the second.
The way I rebelled against Utah and felt trapped in my uncomfortably-fitting marriage vs. the way I settle-with-deep-contentment into Maine and glory in every moment I get to spend with my True Love....ahem...yes, well, now you remember why I haven't been blogging, right? Hehe...
Yes, I've settled into Real Life, but he's still, like...dreeeamy...it's like he's oxygen and cat hair to me! Wait...what?
Seriously...I live and breathe this guy.
Three years we've been together, and he still gives me butterflies,
I still CAN'T WAIT for him to get home from work every day,
and send him love notes all day...
So, anywho.
Where was I?
Cuz now I'm just sitting here smiling into the blue...
Have a lovely weekend, kids.
Where are the Floo Fighters when you need 'em?
Are they off playing a stadium somewhere?
Are they sleeping off a month-long binge?
Or am I really just talking about something to fight off this bout of influenza I fear is hovering just around a corner, waiting to pounce??
Sigh.
I am achy and tired and I keep finding myself spacing out.
The boys at work keep catching me in the latter act and saying, "Smoked!"
I'm really not sure what it means...yes, that probably means I'm getting old, but through context I have determined it means something like..."You've had it" or "You're toast".
Lordy.
I am old.
And today, I feeeeeeel old.
I heard a fading echo of James Brown just after writing that drawn-out "feel", but I haven't the energy to sing it. Even internally.
One more day of work, then a day off.
I hate working somewhere that is only open 5 days a week, because that means that when it is open extra days for vacations, we just have to work extra days.
Blurgh.
Boss took pity and let me out a couple of hours early today, so I could get my homework done for Tuesday, which means I'll also be able to rest up a bit this afternoon.
Yay!!
Meanwhile, my long and lanky Love is designing the invitation to our big event. Pie Night merges with a Portrait Party!
It's going to be so much fun!
Pies!
Portraits!
And lots of great friends and/or family.
I finished reading my chapter, listening to an hour or so of lecture, answering study questions, and taking a quiz.
Which means I've earned a few moments with my Kindle, right?
I have so many great books on there, I kind of don't know where to start.
I've started a few since burning through my first full book, but can't quite settle on one.
"Last Night in Twisted River" by John Irving
"Where Men Win Glory" By Jon Krakauer
"Already Dead" by Charlie Houston
I guess I better just commit to one and prioritize the rest....
I don't do well with reading several things at once.
Woooo! Here I go.
Diving head first into a new semester of college.
I have 3 classes again, as I did last semester,
sooo
maybe one day I'll actually graduate.
But I'm not holding my breath!
Here's what I have:
Introduction to World Geography
Grant Writing
History of the Maine Coast
I'm excited.
Grant Writing is a skill I've wanted to learn for a while, so hopefully I achieve that goal...
One never knows.
Geography will fill a general ed requirement, and I tend to enjoy the subject, so hopefully that won't be too painful...
And then the history of my beautiful state's coastline and fishing industry from prehistory to the present will be just plain great knowledge to have! I'm really looking forward to it.
Now if only I can stay on top of my assignments and my housework.....
Gah.
Yes, it really is.
Today I went with Dearest Love to photograph an event.
Our friend is a professional ballroom dancer and owns a dance studio where he teaches lessons and choreographs dances for other instructors.
Today was their winter showcase, and it is always a beautiful event.
Like a recital, for grown-ups!
So, we sit with our big fancy cameras and click-snap-click at every twirl and turn and dip.
It is quite fun, if not a little hard on the neck.
So, there sits my long lanky darling, reviewing the 1,000+ pictures we took, while I sit here writing.
This makes me very happy.
We got some great shots.
And I'm thinking of ways I can use mine for my final project in digital art class...
So many great, overlapping finall projects this semester!!
I'm going to use my latest html assignment to EASILY build a website/portfolio for my digital art class; I'm going to use pictures from my digital art class to make my chapbook pretty for my English final project; aaaaaand, photos from today's "work" for digital art final project.
Oh, I'm a wicked mulit-purposer, baby!
Ok, so here's a little exercise we did in class yesterday, for English (Creative Writing).
We were each supposed to select one line from a poem we had been assigned, and then use each word from that line to start a sentence in a little non-fiction piece, with the assigned title of, "These are the Holidays."
Mine didn't really turn out to be as non-fictional as it should have/could have been, but I like some of the lines that I ended up with.
My line to build from:
"Age, time and the vices of this century?"
from the poem "Question Mark" by Gevorg Emin.
These Are the Holidays
Age comes to mean so much more, and so much less over time. Time passes at the speed of life, sometimes a blur of chaotic but joyful occasions, sometimes a jumble of not-enough-time and too-much-to-do. And we come together at the holidays, with expectations and anxiety; for some, the holidays are best when seen in the rearview mirror, or through the rose-colored glasses of hindsight. The memories better than the experience. Vices flare up, like tempers when under the pressure of travel and close quarters and long-undiagnosed, broad-reaching dysfunction. Of mice and men, best laid plans are often trampled under foot when extended families congregate. This is why some dread holidays. Century after century, traditions change and evolve, and maybe someday Darwin’s discovery will allow us to celebrate without the scars.
Heh.
So, I'm kinda firing up the writing kiln again, and it feels
grrrrrrrrrrrrr
ate!
I can't remember if I posted the story I wrote for my creative writing class on here, but I submitted it in revised form and I feel like it's starting to shape up.
I would love to turn it into a book.
Shrug.
Also, some friends and I came up with a friggin sweet idea for a children's book--photographs by my lovely lanky husband v2.0, story by moi, moi-meme et je!
Plus, I picked up a fun little pre-Christmas gig at my friend's artisan jewelry store/gallery, which will usher me into ski season!! For which I'm duly stoked. Skiing! Woot! Also, Zumba-ing my friggin' heart out lately and exercise always makes me feel invincible---powerful, strong, happy!
So, yeah.
Life.
Rocks.
Now if only I could grow the stones to email or worse, call, my ex and ask him to negotiate on some financial/travel matters for the kiddos....
Guh.
Thanks, but, I'd rather have a speculum shoved up my inflamed urethra!
(believe me, not as fun as it sounds!)
(and did I actually spell "speculum" wrong, or does blogger just not have it on file?)
Ok, in honor of the impending ski season, here is a poem I jotted out today in 10 minutes in class. It is done in the Pantoum format, which basically means that lines 2 and 4 from the first stanza become lines 1 and 3 of the following stanza, and so on...also, they are 4-line stanzas.
Hit it.
Ski Season
The chairlift sways
Up I go
The wind cuts through me
Up and up
Up I go
So I can come down
Up and up
So slow, so cold.
I will come down
so fast and then--
slow and cold
I'll go back up.
So fast I swish
from left to right
Slow and cold
From bottom to top.
From left to right
I zig and zag
From bottom to top
I slowly ride up.
I zig and zag
down the slope
I slowly ride up
til the light fades out.
Ok, so I departed from the exact format a bit here and there, but I LOVED writing with such circular, repetitious flow!
I will do revisions on this one, definitely.
The theme fits the format very well, don't you think?
The textbook describes this format is something that makes you revisit an idea and skiing is just that--round and round, suffering through the slow crawl to the top, so you can race down the snow!
I will spice up my language choices to give better visuals and tighten up some of the places where a line seems too long.
Mostly, it was fun.
It was maybe the first time I felt the thrill of the Math that is the invisible structure of poetry...
Ok, if you have any time left, here is my revision of that story, which I have now confirmed I did NOT yet post here:
They stood with throngs of people moving around them in at least two directions, his hands slipping on the handles of the heavy duffel bag in one hand, wilting tickets in another. He stood before her, agitated but tongue-tied.
“Grand Central Station.” He paused, eyes flickering over their surroundings. “We’re a walking cliché.” He attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.
“Nothing about this is cliché,” she said. He nodded, mouth forming a straight line.
“So what do we do next?”
“We already talked about that. Nothing.”
“Yeah.” He paused, opened his mouth, then closed it again, handing her the duffel.
“Don’t forget to write?”
She sighed, snatched the tickets from his dangling arm. “Enough with the clichés.” Her tired eyes had hardened, willing him to stay out—far outside of her. She was not only in a hurry to get onto her train, she was in a hurry to not be seen with him; it wouldn’t do anything for her reputation to be seen with a civilian, especially one so young.
She glanced at the clock, the ticket. Her body shifted almost imperceptibly away from him, the precursor to a step.
“Don’t go.”
“Jim.” A sigh, laced with impatience.
“Stay.”
“Jim. We decided.”
“I want to un¬-decide, then! I want to—I want to…” He swallowed hard, and started to back away. He was angry, ready to fight for her, ready to beg, but the look on her face stopped him cold. Time passed like a fun-house mirror, each second a lifetime.
He said her name softly, then.
“Rachael.” Like a prayer, or a wish made on a falling star.
She turned away from him, willing herself to melt into the swarm of uniformed bodies making their way with purpose around them. She pressed forward, every step feeling like the future engulfing her, when an arm reached through the shield of bodies and stopped her progress. Again she found herself face to face with the boy she had pretended to love.
“Ok, Jimmy. Ok. Say your piece, but then, really. I have to go or I’ll miss my train.”
He looked defeated then, maybe realizing for the first time that it truly was ending. She would leave, and he would go back to being a lonely boy in a city full of people who didn’t understand him.
She hadn’t understood him, either, but he had interpreted her silence as a warm blanket of soft security enveloping him, instead of the brick wall hiding her true feelings that it really was. Rachael had needed a few weeks to recharge her batteries before heading back into the battlefield and it was just pure luck that they stumbled across each other. He had a private dorm room, and she had been looking for a place to hide from the world, from its ugliness and its heavy demands on her. She was only five years older than Jimmy, but she had thoroughly used up those five years—military training and rapid advancement in this time of unprecedented war. It was as though the whole planet was caving in on itself, each country viciously trying to consume each other country in its path toward the sky.
“Take me with you!” He nearly shouted the words, his eyes widening in disbelief at his own impulsiveness.
Rachael stepped back, sharply glancing around. This isn’t happening, she thought. “Jimmy…you know it doesn’t work like that. You know that can’t happen.”
“But I—I—” She knew which nefarious ‘L-word’ was on the tip of his tongue and she had to act fast.
She braced herself, so she wouldn’t roll her eyes or employ a sarcastic tone. “Jimmy, I will never forget you.” She was so convincingly sincere that she almost believed herself. I should be an actress instead of a soldier, she thought. She kissed him once, lightly, on the neck and ran her fingers across his childishly stubble-covered cheek and turned away again, this time forcing herself to move as though with regret.
Some romantic notion in the boy was satisfied. The tension left his body and his shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Even though he was forlorn, his perception of the world remained intact and he was free to move forward through his own life. She had changed him forever, but would forget him as easily as stepping through a door onto a train.
“Captain Moralez.” The nearest soldier saluted her and a hush fell as she stood before the sea of anxious faces.
“At ease, soldiers. We have a long ride ahead. Let’s all just get some rest and I’ll have orders for you at oh-six-hundred.”
Rachael took her seat and pulled out a notebook and a stack of maps. She already knew how unlikely it would be that any of them would make it through the next attack, but until she had different orders, they would proceed with the original plan.
And, no...I don't mean that in the dirtiest of ways,
like in the old days.
I just like the sound of it.
And I feel like writing a story...
And if you see yourself between the lines, don't be too flattered--
there are pieces of everyone I meet, scattered through my writing like chunks of flesh mixed with rich, dark earth...human compost!! Haha!!
Julia didn't so much step into a room as rush into a room--not because she was in a hurry, but in the manner of a river rushing through a suddenly opened dam. The wildness of her once-natural-now-bleached blonde mane was the outward projection of the inner friction between her serious, inquisitive nature and her rampant desire to constantly be pushing her physical limits. She wrangled horses, castrated pigs, shot and cleaned deer, elk, moose; she shoed horses and ran dogsleds. She was a woman in a man's world and the fire in her pale green eyes was half laughter half stubborn determination. But none of that even entered the awareness of the patrons of that dingy, small town bar as her presence gushed through the creaking wooden door. Whether smiling or scowling, she lit up a room and all eyes naturally found their way to her.
"Hey, Willy. Gimme an herbal tea, wouldja? Fucking fence." She tossed a pair of well worn leather gloves onto the bar and took off her heavy sheepskin jacket, dropping it over the chair back on the bar stool. She yanked the clip from her hair and tousseled it, then tucked part of it back again.
Sitting quietly at the bar, at ease with the world and with himself, was Eric. He was the son of a Senator and had grown up in DC. He had never really had to make his own way in life, caught in the steady flow of money and priveleg, but with college a couple graduation a few years past his rearview mirror, he was starting to feel the need to push beyond the trust funds and private school life and become a part of the raw, often painful "real world." He chatted amiably with the bartender, and alternated between watching the football games on the various TVs and reading chunks of text from a book on the history of economics in America.
She hadn't yet noticed him, and of all the people in the bar, he had probably taken the least notice of her. And then...
"Football? Aw, fuck football, Willy. Can we change one of these to something a little less...ya know, caveman-esque?" She sort of rolled her eyes, and laughed--just a hint of the room-filling laugh she was famous for.
"I'm watching that." A quiet, steady voice; not arguing, just stating a fact.
She almost didn't hear him, then turned, with a serious look on her face to investigate the source of the voice. What she saw was a man of wiry build, not too tall, with blue eyes nearly as big as the Montana sky she had just stepped away from. He had lashes like a girl, and a mop of almost-curls, joined by a fresh-looking beard.
"You're watching all 4 games?" She was suddenly aggressive, and took a step nearer to him.
He was startled, but not intimidated. "I am. And reading this book."
"Impressive." She flopped down in the stool that stood between them and put her feet in his lap. "Whatcha readin?"
Her heavy, mud-clad work boots left a smudge across his leg and dropped suspiciously manure-like chunks of mud all over his lap and the floor.
He smiled at her--not just any smile, a warm, genuine smile--and said, "Get the fuck off me." He paused a beat, then added, "Please."
She laughed, this time the full, hearty laugh of hers that everyone who's ever met her could pick out of a crowd, even after many years: a whooping, guffawing laugh that makes even mourners chuckle. She drew back her feet, brushed off his lap and stood, planting her hands on his shoulders and bringing her face so close they were almost touching. His heart skipped a beat…and a half. She smelled like rain and wind and fire—not smoke, fire. He felt himself being sucked into her and he leaned into it.
Their noses bumped and she laughed again. "Pardonez moi.” With a smooth, sleight of hand type motion, she slid the book from the bar behind her up against her back and stepped away from him. She tossed him a taunting smile before she plunked down beside him again, this time with her feet on the stool on the other side of her, so her back was facing him.
Eric sat stunned for a moment. Who was this girl? This woman? She was a ball of energy—fully controlled, but sizzling under the surface like a raw electric current.
His heart was racing now, and he knew he was engaged in some sort of game, but he didn't know the rules or the strategy or even, really who the players were. Because, obviously, he didn't know her, and in this context he suddenly felt unfamiliar with even himself.
*******
Dammit, Ok, I know I've done this before: This feels like the start of something, but now I'm distracted, done for the moment. I always promise to come back, to write more, but it usually doesn't happen. And when it does...somehow the story never really feels the same, or goes anywhere. Fuckin fuck.
Well, maybe not this time. Because I like these two. And I think they have potential. And I really need a shower. Had a great workout this morning, and now it's time to hose off.
Don't let me get away with not writing more. Also, to Abs--sorry for the language!! Thanks for being the coolest Mormon I know! :)
Well...
I guess we can't win 'em all.
My favorite line from today's post-election coverage: now that Republicans are in a position of power, they will be less likely to blame our President for the lack of change.
I'm so grumpy about the state of politics in our country!
It is a fact of economics that recessions don't rebound in a matter of months or even a year. A giant amount of the unemployed lost their jobs during the month of January 2009, followed by huge numbers in February and March of that year. How can ANYONE blame those losses on President Obama? Makes no sense to me. They just want someone to blame. And I guess they can't blame Bush because he's out of power, so he can't do anything for them. Instead, they refuse to acknowledge that the Republican filibuster has kept our President from doing more for them. There were so many conflicting complaints from Republicans interviewed this morning--they were saying, "Shame on you, Obama for not fixing our economy" and then in the next breath saying, "We want less government involvement." Ok, guys, which is it? Do you want him to fix it, or do you want him to stay out of your business?
Ok...sorry...just ranting.
Hey, I'm sitting here alone in the house, I have to vent my frustrations at SOMEBODY!
Ha.
Ok, maybe I'll shower now so I can catch the President's speech in 20 minutes.
Sigh.
I admire our President.
I think he is wildly intelligent and more honorable than the average politician.
He is doing what he thinks is right, and attempting to deliver on the promises he made.
Why did Republicans turn into tantrum throwing babies the second he was elected? I've never seen anything like it. True, I haven't been watching that closely for very long, but, man...I sure did HATE President Bush the second, but at least I had real reasons...I mean, he came off as a bumbling fool--a former coke addict who says Nuke-ya-ler instead of Nuke-lee-er, a man who started two wars and drove our economy into the ground, then ran laughing to the hills and left it for Obama to clean up. So what is it that scared our Republicans so much about Obama's victory? They hated him purely based on what he promised, which is how he was elected. We voted him in based on his promises, they hated him based on his promises. They ran to rally the friggin Tea Party before he had even taken office. And don't get me started on Sarah Palin...what the hell is she doing on the national scene?? She deserted her Alaskan responsibilities based on the hopes of starring in a reality show?? Ok, but back to the point: Republicans have feared and blocked Obama before he even DID anything. What has he done that has been so bad? Did he start two wars, based on blatant lies to the American people? Did he cause all those people to lose their jobs? (no, they were lost before he took office and during his first weeks in office) So what has he done that is sooooo atrocious?? That is what I would like to know. They wail and weep about how horrible he is...but I have yet to hear anything that sounds like a valid concern. Oh, he's a socialist, is he? Give me a break. We have many socialist systems in our country that we rely on heavily already--police force, ambulance and fire service, libraries...so what the hell? Scare tactics. Too many people believe Fox News without thinking for themselves. It's a shame.
Whatever.
Whatever!!
I better go shower.
The leaves are simply stunning, and the cool, crisp air is delicious!
This is my favorite time of year.
School is good...not without its frustrations, but fairly low-stress this semester.
Full Moon celebration tonight with some girl friends...should be fun.
The theme of this month's full moon is commitment, so that's cool.
I felt like I had things to say...
but then I really don't.
I was looking for some files the other day and stumbled across my first Nanowrimo submission, and spent a few minutes reading the first chapter. It made me smile. I like it.
My life is a happy ball of chaos; boys, boys, BOYS.
I've been hiding in great books for the past couple of months...just makes me want to write something.
Something good, something real.
But still I hesitate.
(cuz what if I FAIL??? heh. silly me.)
I've been attending a Zumba class with an exceptional teacher for the past 5 weeks.
Only making it once a week, but now that my summer job has ended, I plan to turn that into twice a week.
And hopefully I can keep doing other stuff, too.
It's weird to be blogging...
Here's my latest creative writing assignment--the assignment was to write an argument between two equals, in dialog only.
Equals
“We’re not equals.”
“You think you’re better than me?”
“I think this is a stupid conversation.”
“So now you’re calling me stupid.”
“Dude. Come on. Look at the big picture, ok?”
“How can I look at the big picture, with you blocking my view?”
“Maybe I think you’re better than me.”
“Riiiiight.”
“Maybe!”
“Uh-huh. This from the guy who wouldn’t even let me design the cover of the last video game? You’re such a control freak! You think you’re better. Just admit it.”
“Come on, Jack…”
“I’m sick of you acting like you’re the only one who’s a real grown up, Seth! Just because you sit in an office and wear suits every day, doesn’t make you more successful or even better at this job.”
“I never said that. Just calm down.”
“No! You’ve always treated me like your little brother. And I’m sick of it.”
“That’s ’cause I always had to look out for you.” (Quietly)
“What was that?” (He grabs the front of his brother’s shirt.)
“Mom asked me to. When we were little, like 6 or something. She said you weren’t as--”
“Liar.” (Their identical faces are just millimeters apart.)
“No, it’s true. You were always a little behind, and I made sure you didn’t become a target.”
(Jack shoves his brother against the wall and draws back to punch him.)
“It hasn’t been like that for a long time, ok? Chill the fuck out! But I can’t just give you the lead on this game. You show up, out of the blue, and want a piece of the company. We haven’t even seen each other in over a year, and the last time we did… (he sighs)…the last time we did, one of us ended up with a black eye.”
(The brothers step apart, staring at each other, somewhat out of breath.)
“I don’t want to work for you.”
“Good. I don’t want you to work for me, either.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I want you to work with me.”
“Huh?”
“Everyone agrees your style is edgy, more unique than anything we’ve put out so far. The truth is we need you on our team.”
“Well why didn’t you just say so?” (Jack punches his brother in the shoulder, lightly.)
“Maybe cuz I didn’t want to get another black eye?”
“Hey, you started it!”
“I guess I did—that time.”
“Whatever happened to Lainey-the-legs, anyway?”
“Last I heard she was living on some commune…(he clears his throat)…pretty sure she’s a lesbian now.”
(The boys chuckle).
“Well, I hope it wasn’t because of us.” (There is a twinkle in Jack’s eye.)
“I’m sure it was.” (Seth sounds regretful.)
“Her loss. So when do I start?”
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean…it is a big commitment. These projects can take months, maybe even up to two years, until all the final testing is done.”
“So are you trying to tell me I’ll be stuck here for the next couple of years? No sky diving, no surfing, no living out of a backpack?”
“That about sums it up. Can you handle it?”
“It’s gonna cost ya.”
“It already has.”
I have some thoughts to tumble through, and I have a feeling that one particular subject is going to evolve into a full-scale rant...
Well, first of all, when I got to work this morning, there was an exquisite ship in the harbor!
It is tall and dark and seems to have a square mast--very pirate shippy.
The name?
SVT Unicorn!
What a lovely name, and even cooler?
The Captain and crew are all female!
So very, very badass.
It stirs things in me...makes me want to stow away and learn to sail and never cut my hair again and be lean and tan and get more tattoos and party into the night and--
But.
Where would my dearest husband and strapping young sons fit into that??
So, here I stay.
Happily.
But what an adventure that would be...
(and don't think there's not a little part of that no-men-on-board aspect that appeals to me at this particular era of my life...boys, boys, EVERYWHERE! Hehehe!)
So then, just as I was eating a most luscious lobster roll and contemplating the subject that will undoubtedly turn into a high-energy rant, a lovely young lady come in and purchased a postcard. She gave me a "tract" that she thought I might enjoy reading with my lunch. She was very pleasant, but it really makes me wonder (mini-rant alert) why people who pass out such things assume that I (or any of their anonymous recipients) need, want, or lack that information?
This woman was visiting from Texas, as she had just told me, so it's not as though she is intimately familiar with the other Jay-Dubs in the area, and used the powers of deductive reasoning to conclude I'm not one. But I just think it's odd that people are so happy to push their beliefs onto strangers. "Hey, here's something that makes me happy and though I know NOTHING about you, I'm going to assume it will make you happy, too." Uh...what if I'm already happy, without religion?? They are so weird. I have pretty strong beliefs as well, but I'm not going to try to change the views of people I don't know--even though I believe they would be so much happier if they only knew the truth...heh...only my truth is that science rules and religion is a personal choice. Unlike being gay, which brings me to my Rant of the Day.
The religion I grew up with has disgusted me down to the very bottom of my soul this week. I am so sad and so angry! If I were in Utah still, I would join the protesters, I would write letters to the newspaper, I would, I would, I would---!!!!! Aaaaah! Ok, so let me back up a bit. It's hard to show you just how upset I am, without doing a bit of back story here, but I'll try to keep it brief. The Mormon church has a prophet, who they believe receives direct revelation from God. Twice a year, they have a big meeting which they broadcast over satellite so every member worldwide can see it. They usually choose these meetings to do the "Big Reveal"--to unveil some new plan, some new direction. For example, as piercings and tattoos become prevalent, they issued a decree that women may only have one pair of earrings (men get none). This past weekend, there was a sermon delivered admonishing gay teens to "change their ways."
I am...
Maybe too heartbroken by this to summon enough words for a rant.
Shame on you, President Packer!
Shame on you, LDS members who stay silent about this reprehensible command!
I can only hope that instead of causing more suicides, it will cause more teens to say, "Wow, this church is fucked up. I'm outta here!"
I always scoffed at churches that sent gay people to camps to get de-Gayed.
How often is that shit even successful???
I know that it is only a very small percentage.
I don't know why I have such a motherly, protective feeling for this community...but I do.
People do not choose to be gay.
When will religious communities accept this??
The man had the audacity to include in his speech this line, "Some suppose that they were pre-set and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn tendencies toward the impure and unnatural,” said Packer, president of the LDS Church’s Quorum of Twelve Apostles. “Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Remember he is our father.” (emphasis added).
Are you SHITTING ME??
Let's go ahead and not only tell people that the attraction they feel for someone of the same sex is UNNATURAL, but that their God would never have done such a yucky thing as to have had a hand in making them THAT WAY. Oh, he MADE you, alright, but that part is all you. So figure it out, or get out of our "image is everything" church.
Here comes the rant...........
Ok, maybe not. Cuz it's not really ranting I feel like doing, but SCREAMING.
Read the article here
My assignment this week for Creative Writing was poetry. Eh.
Not really my favorite, but here is the one I liked best of the 3 I turned in:
John, John, and Jon
The quiet one, wait—they were all quiet, in a way.
The innocent one, then.
His father’s brothers each had 4 wives; they all lived out on the dusty open plain
Between the great, jutting rocks of the La Salle mountain range.
He was quiet because he was different.
He worked hard and was careful--with her, but not with his rollerskate-shaped car.
It ended up in a ditch, its stereo still blasting, its roof in the dirt.
His jokes were soft around the edges,
Imploring her to return to a time more innocent.
He loved her with adoring eyes and frequent blushes; never a word.
The scary one, yes the creepy one
With his splattered black bag, its clattering contents.
He was a cook, so a big bag of chef’� s knives were the tools of his trade, but.
Were they necessary?
His splattered black duster;
Everything was splattered in their restaurant world.
He asked her out.
Once.
She made him know it was as friends, but.
His slicked down hair and hopeful eyes as he picked her up said he disagreed.
They went to the ballet and talked as they drove to the city
Talked with the sun on their left, steadily descending behind the low mountains.
Those mountains meant west, the others meant East.
East…home…
But she listened to the stories he told of pain and sadness and anger and
then they watched lithe bodies move gracefully on a stage
and she hoped he wasn’t picturing her body moving, at all.
Then there was the sultry-eyed, dangerous, charismatic, broken one.
He loved her much more lightly than the other two, much more accidentally.
He was quiet…full of mystery.
His Camaro, she called it vintage, though truly it was a piece of junk.
His guitar, a prop (a useful one).
She bet him a case of beer
He lost, so she got to drive that car—
In the blackest part of night,
what fun to have found the west’s answer to New England’s backroads:
long, straight, but empty.
The car could fly.
She challenged him then to strip poker;
Next to Truth or Dare.
She thought she had won each match, but then,
with winter biting at the single-pane window in the small bedroom he rented from the night manager,
he said, That was just for fun, right?
And she knew that she was wrong.
Just kidding, but oooooh, how I love the imagery of THAT phrase!
I just typed it out, searching for a quick, entropy-esque title for a post about my kids' lack of interest in reading, but I must say I LOOOOVE what that phrase conjures. It could either mean someone who is scatterbrained (ahem...), or someone who is a little crazy (boy, it's getting warm in here...anyone else?)
So, anyway, I was just commenting over on the blog of my favorite English teacher and dental hygiene groupie, E., about kids and reading and went off on a rant that I thought might be more appropriate as a blog post, rather than a comment, so here it is.
My kids make me crazy with their lack of interest in reading in general. Max has read all the Harry Potter books, but he claims it was only because he "had to" for school (during silent reading time) and Oliver hasn't much bothered to read anything other than what's assigned or forced (although he does write stories quite regularly, of his own motivation). I keep trying to entice them both to read other books, but so far they are lazy, lazy, lazy and prefer to have ME read to them! Which I definitely enjoy doing, I just wish they would also take the plunge and fall in love with the escape of reading the way that I had done by the age of...5, I would say. But alas, they have not been consumed by the feverish need to devour the pages of a book at the expense of all other interactions or activities. Which, by the way, I would heartily approve of! You can't fight with an obsession that enriches the mind. Oh well. I guess that'll never happen...until I throw the xbox 360 out the window of a tall, tall building. Sigh.
Just checking out my new email-a-post address. I used to do this with
my old blog, but now that I use my Blackberry more than my computer, I
think I'm going to find this verrrrrry handy. Possibly even addictive!
Oh, and when my Creative Writing teacher says she finds some of
sentence structures to be "very interesting"....that's a good thing,
right? ;)
--
Sent from my mobile device
Have I mentioned lately...
how I'm married to the Incarnation of Entropy?
I mean, truly.
Hey, don't get me wrong--he's a sweet guy.
A smart guy, a funny guy, an interesting and patient guy.
But he is like the mutant offspring of PigPen and the Tasmanian Devil.
With maybe a little Garfied thrown in.
Yes, I am married to a cartoon.
Which is why he is so clever and witty and sweet--and thin...hmm...
Yesterday I enjoyed a fun little road trip to Rumford with my Mom.
We had a lovely (but too brief!) visit with a dear friend and then I rushed home to meet other childhood friends for a first try at Zumba.
First of all, let me say, I loved it.
But then let me say: I HATED IT!!
Ok, not really...but I have not felt so uncoordinated and clumsy and inept since...since...probably the last time I took an aerobics class.
Which is why I generally don't take them.
I can't seem to watch someone make a movement and get my body to copy what they're doing under the best of circumstances, but this class is particularly fast-moving and non-repetitive.
I won't say it's impossible, because I'm trying to have a positive attitude, but...it's my weak spot. One of them, anyway.
Speaking of areas in which I'm rather handicapped...
I also seem to have an allergy to being on time.
I've grown increasingly aware of this in the past few years, and have employed several different strategies to attempt to cure the problem, to no avail.
I will not give up, but I sure do get frustrated with myself sometimes!
Ok, well...I guess that's enough of the self-deprecation for one day.
I got some great feedback on my first submission in my creative writing class.
The semester is going well, and I am enjoy it.
Not feeling too overwhelmed just yet, but have to keep reminding myself to stay on track.
Meanwhile, I'm hoping and praying and wishing and waiting--
for my dream job to miraculously appear.
It's closer than you may think...in fact, it is breathlessly giggling, just out of sight, around the corner with the lights off.
It sill spring out and tackle me at any moment and I am so excited I can hardly stand it.
I am ready.
Bring on the Bliss!
Today, what I should be doing is: homework and baking.
But what I am doing is: downloading Internet Explorer 8 and updating my blog.
I will get to the other stuff, and technically, I was downloading ie8 so that I could more readily look into what my homework assignments are for the week....but it took forever and I got caught up reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo while it downloaded and rebooted and et cetera.
The first chapter was a little dry for me--lots of Swedish place names and business names that meant, oh...really close to NOTHING to me, which didn't hold my interest very well.
Fortunately, I had heard from EVERYONE that it was a thrill-ride, a page-turner and a truly excellent read, or else I would have wandered off and hooked up with one of the other books in my stack left over from this summer ("The Summer of Reading", as I dubbed it). I read a ton of books this summer, and still have four more (including Girl w/ Drag Tat and its sequel) before I am totally finished with the ridiculous number of books I purchased.
No regrets.
All were delicious and marvelous in their own way.
Read lots by Christopher Moore, whom I highly recommend to anyone who doesn't mind lots of swearing along with their wit and whimsy.
Also read The Hunger Games trilogy and The Passage. All four of which were excellent. The Passage in particular was so well written that it almost made me weep with joy for the art of storytelling.
See...I have developed this problem over the past few years. A problem wherein I am remarkably critical of the books I read. I can't seem to help second-guessing the choices some authors make and it really changes the experience. I am partly attempting to learn from them, and partly attempting to...I don't know...maybe reassure myself that there is room in the library for one more imperfect author...?
Anywho...
I better wrap up, or I will not finish my list of chores before the kids get out of school.
Au revoir--
This place.
This blog!
I can't believe I found this again.
This is the blog that I will use from now on.
I have worn many mantles, and as I shifted from that old life,
(that life of 10 years in a desert)
to this new life
(this life of happily ever after at the sea),
I have swung like a pendulum.
So far to the left,
then to the right,
and here I am, sorta in the middle again.
Not wildly rebellious,
not barely clinging to my sanity, focused only on survival.
Not wildly in love,
so focused on Him and only Him that all else fades to grayscale.
(but fear not, still deliriously enough in love that I nauseate onlookers on a regular basis!)
So here I am.
Happy.
Grounded.
Poised for a future so blindingly bright, so gloriously happy that I get sunburned on the inside.
(better than it sounds, i promise)
So.
Shrug.
Let's RIIIIIDE!!
Today I met a friend for lunch so that we could celebrate the fact that February vacation is OVER.
For me it is a relief to be finished with the grueling schedule at work, and for her it is just nice to have the restless children back in school.
I cannot believe how much my typing skills have suffered since switching to my Blackberry for all internet communications!
I can't seem to type more than a few letters without making a mistake.
Ummmm....
I was looking at the facebook photos of some friends and for one brief moment I imagined how it would be to slip inside a photograph. What if I could reach out and when my fingers made contact with the paper, it would vanish and my whole arm, then my entire body would slip through into the time and place of that photograph. I would blink, straighten my shoulders and take a good look around.
I was reading through the archives from my Bored Housewife days and maaaan...I really was a different person. I am finding my way back to Me, and it is a truly marvelous feeling. Now if only "Me" could remember to be thin!
Blurgh.
I don't know how to blog anymore.
But I do need to write on a regular basis.
The house is quiet; two tall, young redheads are in a distant room playing their respective computers, one tall, baldy is lankily sprawled on the bed reading his latest photography magazine.
Entropy seems not to be winning, at least as long as one's eyes are closed. A quick look around this place tells anyone who's asking that yes, indeed, all system do tend to disorder--and quickly.
It's all I can do to keep my head above water: dust and cat hair and mail in various stages of disarray closing in on every side.
I sigh and put up blinders: my night stand is tidy; my clothes are arranged in an orderly fashion; my kitchen is....well...ahem...mostly clean. But the point is, I focus on the spaces that are mine. My mantra of, "I only control myself," hums along so quietly in the background of all my other thoughts that I don't even notice it anymore--except in moments of panic, and then it's there, calm and reassuring.
Today I skied.
I wish I didn't lose my confidence so easily, resorting to the stupid ole snowplow.
The weird thing is, I din't even DO the snowplow the first day I ever skied. My sister-in-law taught me, and she just showed me how to ski. It was only later, after losing control and going waaaaay too fast that I adopted the snowplow. Oh well. I still have fun, and that's really all that counts, right? Exercise and having fun.
I'm taking College Algebra from the University of Maine, Fort Kent (online) this semester. I'm decent with math, but it's not what I would call my "strong suit." I did well in high school, but then in college I decided it would be a good idea to neglect to hand in any of my homework, so I failed the class. When I retook College Algebra, it was the last straw--I was ready to drop out already, and was focused way more on my full-time job, and I again failed to complete my assignments, this time for a D-. Ha! Well, now I'm at it again, and guess what? I have completed EVERY assignment, quiz, and exam and so far have a 96%...because, come on--it's still me, I'm still going to rush through things without checking my work! It's super easy so far, but I'm not going to get cocky. Still, I can't believe I didn't do my homework before. What was I thinking??
Wide open future before me
I drift forward on the waves of time
colors, shapes, and sounds surging around me
Life
is happening
building, weaving, through the mists of past and the haze of future
Life
is beautiful.
