"Love gets lost.... Find my love."
I've been listening to The Avett Brothers all day long today, and now I'm longing for the backwoods of Tennessee, and summer nights spent in fields catching fireflies. I've never seen Tennessee, and I've never seen fireflies, either.
I'd like to change both of these things soon.
The sun came out today, and played luxuriously, rolling around in the sky and shedding lovely, warm rays down to earth. I wish I could bottle sunlight, just like you catch and bottle fireflies. I could collect jars of sun from all over the world. Sunlight in Bali, where my affection for peaceful balance draws my heart. Sunlight in Jerusalem, where my thirst for Spiritual understanding draws my soul. Sunlight in Valencia, Rome, Provence and Morocco.
Labeled and sorted according to vibrancy, they would rest gloriously on a shelf in my writing room, and everyday as I sat, waiting to be inspired, I could look at my little shelf of sunlight, and feel the light, the heat, warm and encapsulate the room. I feel you could never be unhappy if you had a shelf of international sunlight in your possession. I might have two or three jars of Oregon sunlight, to always remind me of home, because I don't think the sun shines more beautifully anywhere in the world.......
"Well you set my life a'whirling, darlin' when you're twirling on the floor. Who cares about tomorrow? What more is tomorrow than another day?"
I made pancakes tonight, a little after 9'0'clock. My dad fried up some bacon, and with a few eggs, we ate breakfast at 9:30 pm. I told him I was glad that I could cook, because it made me feel accomplished, and safe. Like I was always going to be okay, because I can feed myself. In reality, though, I think it's just the pancakes that make me feel like I'm always going to be okay. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, that pancakes have healing powers unknown to modern science. They fix everything, and make every happy day a thousand times happier.
I love pancakes.
I'm inspired by pancakes.
While I was cooking them, I thought, "I bet these are going to make me want to write," and sure enough, here I am. Updating my blog, which I've been shamefully bad at this year. I was doing so well at updating every few days back in November/December, and then it kind of fell apart. May has been fairly successful, though, and it's not over yet.
Anyways, back to pancakes.
I have this secret dream that all of my life's biggest moments are going to revolve around pancakes. Well, the ones I can control, anyways.
For instance, I would probably say yes to any proposal, if it were over pancakes, because pancakes put me in the silliest, most romantic mood I've ever experienced. I'm a sucker for blue eyes and pancakes. The combination could square me away for the rest of my natural born life, if I'm not careful.
What an odd thing to have to be aware of...
I would love it if, at my very, very, very small, intimate wedding, instead of having a big dinner, we all sat at two or three tables with mismatched plates, lights in the trees and ate pancakes and drank wine. Because I actually do think the combination sounds delightful.
When I break the news to my husband that we're expecting, I'd do it over pancakes.
I'd eat pancakes the day my book was supposed to be released, the day of my child's birth, the day I move to Ireland, the day my best friend gets married. The day my child graduates high school. And, if possible, the last meal I'd ever want to eat would be pancakes.
It's only a dream, and a small one at that, but it's a dream nevertheless, and no matter what anybody says, I'm not letting go of it. That's the beauty of dreams, you can choose to hold onto them or not, because you're the only one who can make them come true......
"Make sure my sister knows I loved her, make sure my mother knows the same. Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name."
My mom and dad recently bought a Shishigashira Japanese Maple tree for my dad's birthday. 58th, birthday........I'm not sure when he started getting old.
Anyways, I'm no landscape artist, but it seems evident by my research that these Japanese maples, like other variations, come in different colors and textures, but they actually look like trees rather than large plants like so many of the other Japanese maples I've come across do. Trust me, for my 17 years, I've come across a lot of Japanese maples. And I still think they're beautiful, regardless.
Over pancakes, my dad made a remark about how "Come Christmastime, I'm going to put lights in the Shishigashira tree."
I said, "Why not put lights in it now?"
He said, ".... I'll think about it."
And as I looked out over our dark backyard, I imagined lights in the Shishigashira, and with the sound of Al Green serenading in the background, I smiled.
Christmas lights in a Shishigashira tree, in the middle of summer, with patio domino games, all to the tune of John Denver and Marvin Gaye.
Sometimes I think I never want to leave home.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Sentimentality and Fat Elvis
I just took a long, hot bath. I listened to some Skinny Love, and read through a fairly weighty stack of old cards that I've kept and collected over the years. This stack was mostly from the past few birthdays and graduation.
If there was ever an automatic ego boost, this is the way to get it.
Seriously.
People tell you things in grad cards that they will never, ever tell you in real life.
I'm not saying this to be rude, or pessimistic. It's just true.
You learn a lot about yourself from what people write in your graduation cards.
Sometimes you learn that you've touched people's lives you don't even hardly know.
Sometimes you learn that your parents' friends consider you their friend too, now that you've entered into adulthood.
Sometimes you learn these new friendships with older adults will bless your life immensely.
Sometimes you learn that your grandmother loves you deeply.
Sometimes you learn who really cares, and who's really just jotting their name on the card because they have to.
It's an intensely emotional process, reading and re-reading Graduation cards. You catch things the second and third time around that you didn't quite see before.
I think this is the first time I actually comprehended the sentence "You mean the world to me" that my grandmother placed beneath the acrostic poem she wrote of my name.
Sometimes you learn things are a little too good to be true, but that's okay. It's nice to hear them anyways.
A few weeks ago, I found this Beanie Baby that my friend brought back for me from her first trip to Las Vegas last summer. It's a red bear with an Elvis hairdo, holding a plastic 'autographed' guitar. Oh, and it's wearing white sunglasses.
I love it, because without even trying, the general pudginess of the bear makes it look more like Fat Elvis than Thin Elvis. Fat Elvis is fun to say out loud. Fat Elvis. Fat Elvis. Fat Elvis. It's even fun to type.
Have you ever googled images of Fat Elvis?
... Don't.
Thinking about Fat Elvis makes me wonder which Elvis people generally prefer.
Fat Elvis or Thin Elvis?
Marilyn Monroe or Norma Jean?
Paul McCartney Solo or Wings?
Electric or acoustic?
paper or plastic?
Diet or sugar-free?
Zodiac or Kerouac?
Fins or beaks?
Taste or sight?
Inside or out?
Love or Money?
I wonder which Elvis the real Elvis would choose?
My loves,
My doves,
My eggs
If there was ever an automatic ego boost, this is the way to get it.
Seriously.
People tell you things in grad cards that they will never, ever tell you in real life.
I'm not saying this to be rude, or pessimistic. It's just true.
You learn a lot about yourself from what people write in your graduation cards.
Sometimes you learn that you've touched people's lives you don't even hardly know.
Sometimes you learn that your parents' friends consider you their friend too, now that you've entered into adulthood.
Sometimes you learn these new friendships with older adults will bless your life immensely.
Sometimes you learn that your grandmother loves you deeply.
Sometimes you learn who really cares, and who's really just jotting their name on the card because they have to.
It's an intensely emotional process, reading and re-reading Graduation cards. You catch things the second and third time around that you didn't quite see before.
I think this is the first time I actually comprehended the sentence "You mean the world to me" that my grandmother placed beneath the acrostic poem she wrote of my name.
Sometimes you learn things are a little too good to be true, but that's okay. It's nice to hear them anyways.
A few weeks ago, I found this Beanie Baby that my friend brought back for me from her first trip to Las Vegas last summer. It's a red bear with an Elvis hairdo, holding a plastic 'autographed' guitar. Oh, and it's wearing white sunglasses.
I love it, because without even trying, the general pudginess of the bear makes it look more like Fat Elvis than Thin Elvis. Fat Elvis is fun to say out loud. Fat Elvis. Fat Elvis. Fat Elvis. It's even fun to type.
Have you ever googled images of Fat Elvis?
... Don't.
Thinking about Fat Elvis makes me wonder which Elvis people generally prefer.
Fat Elvis or Thin Elvis?
Marilyn Monroe or Norma Jean?
Paul McCartney Solo or Wings?
Electric or acoustic?
paper or plastic?
Diet or sugar-free?
Zodiac or Kerouac?
Fins or beaks?
Taste or sight?
Inside or out?
Love or Money?
I wonder which Elvis the real Elvis would choose?
My loves,
My doves,
My eggs
Thursday, May 5, 2011
H-A-P-P-Y A-N-N-I-V-E-R-S-A-R-Y
Happy Anniversary, Benjamin, Natalie and Raelyn.
Two years have gone by, countless changes have come and gone.
Lies have been told, truths have been unfolded, hurts have been sold, and regrets have been demolished.
Laughs have been had, smiles have been given, hugs have been shared, weddings have been celebrated.
Happiness is here, and gone again. Memories are forever, and trust is omnipresent.
Giving up isn't an option. It's our idea of Original Sin, remember?
I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you three.
You've each saved me.
All of you, together have saved me.
Time and time again, you've shown me your goodness, and you've made me feel your love.
I can't thank God enough for each of you, and I'm proud to call you my sisters, my brother.
Forever and a day, I'll always be your Annie.
Love,
Hannah
"Well, you say with love so easy, and I haven't loved a soul since and I never will, I suppose, but this place gave me more than my eyes back. Or taught me how to spell, which I'll never learn anyway, but with all the fights and the trouble I've been here it taught me what help is, and how to live again, and I don't want to say goodbye."
"I wanted to teach you, Helen, everything that the world is full of. Everything on it that's ours for a wink and it's gone, and what we are on it, the-light we bring to it and leave behind in-words, why, you can see five thousand years back in a light of words, everything we feel, think, know- and share, in words, so not a soul is in darkness, or done with, even in the grave."
Two years have gone by, countless changes have come and gone.
Lies have been told, truths have been unfolded, hurts have been sold, and regrets have been demolished.
Laughs have been had, smiles have been given, hugs have been shared, weddings have been celebrated.
Happiness is here, and gone again. Memories are forever, and trust is omnipresent.
Giving up isn't an option. It's our idea of Original Sin, remember?
I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you three.
You've each saved me.
All of you, together have saved me.
Time and time again, you've shown me your goodness, and you've made me feel your love.
I can't thank God enough for each of you, and I'm proud to call you my sisters, my brother.
Forever and a day, I'll always be your Annie.
Love,
Hannah
"Well, you say with love so easy, and I haven't loved a soul since and I never will, I suppose, but this place gave me more than my eyes back. Or taught me how to spell, which I'll never learn anyway, but with all the fights and the trouble I've been here it taught me what help is, and how to live again, and I don't want to say goodbye."
"I wanted to teach you, Helen, everything that the world is full of. Everything on it that's ours for a wink and it's gone, and what we are on it, the-light we bring to it and leave behind in-words, why, you can see five thousand years back in a light of words, everything we feel, think, know- and share, in words, so not a soul is in darkness, or done with, even in the grave."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I've been feeling all introspective lately...
A signifcant amout of time has lapsed since my last post, and for that, I apologize.
5 things we're thankful for, today.
1. I am thankful for SPF 15 and the sunshine to use it in.
2. I am thankful for John Denver, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.
3. I am thankful for my goldfish, Buffy, who is still alive after 31/2 weeks.
4. I am thankful for the fresh fruit and vegetables always in my refridgerator.
5. I am thankful for all the inspiration Audrey Hepburn has lended me over the years, and I wish her soul a very happy 82nd would-be- birthday.
I've been away from home for the past 8 days, spending much needed best-friend-time with Becca, at her home in Auburn, Washington. The sun came out the last few days, we reconnected with old friends in Seattle, dappled in ancient and almost forgotten Disney movies, enjoyed a thrilling Fast Five Imax experience, and achieved dreams.
We tried to celebrate Star Wars, but succeeded only in the fact that 3 of us wore Star Wars t-shirts all day long in downtown Seattle. That's okay, we still felt proud of our failure, as most humans tend to feel.
It was a beautiful trip, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to stay so long at one of my favorite places.
It's that time again, and today I've posted three new quotes on the fridge.
"Break the monotony. Do something strange and extravagant." -Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." -Jack Kerouac
And my favorite:
"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone." -Audrey Hepburn.
I also feel I should mention that I've not gotten behind on my avid habit of reading, I've just been forgetting to update you all on it. :)
So, here's a list of the books I've finished since December.
The Godfather- Mario Puzo
Eat Pray Love- Elisabeth Gilbert
Agnes Grey- Anne Bronte
The Secret Life of Bees- Sue Monk Kidd
Peter Pan- J.M. Barrie
Breakfast at Tiffany's- Truman Capote
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek- Annie Dillard
Ariel- Sylvia Plath
Notes from the Underground- Fyodor Dostoevsky
And I'm almost finished with Steinbeck's Winter of Our Discontent.
9 books in five months. I'm not going to deny that I'm rather proud of that. Almost 10 books.
I love reading.
I'm also taking a literary journey through the Abridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, and as soon as I finish Winter, I'm going to delve deliciously into Love in the Time of Cholera, as I've had it ever since Summer and have been waiting for the right time to read it. I feel this glorious month of May will be the perfect appointed time. Excitement.
This certainly seems to be the post of lists, doesn't it?
List-o-mania if you will. ;)
Here's one last closing list I will leave you with.
My father were sitting around on a sunny day, took a drive in his rickety old van, and began to laugh. This was the humor-baby that was born out of our ridiculous conversation.
Hannah's Top Ten List of Inspirational People
1. Jesus
2. Walt Disney
3. Michael Jackson.
(Good enough right? I mean, technically, that's all you need in life. But no. It goes on.)
4. Hercules.
5. Mr. Rogers
6. George Lucas
7. My dentist.
8. Sonny Bono
9. Jack Daniels
10. The Guy that Invented Dairy Queen.
So there, you have it. I hope it made you laugh, or smile, or even choke on your beverage.
A few honorable mentions included of course, Ringo Starr, Tim Allen, Lassie and for those SNL lovers out there: Terd Ferguson, but you can't win 'em all, now, can you? :)
Oh, before I leave, I just want to wish every one of you a very intergalactic Happy International Star Wars Day!
May the Fourth be with you.
;)
My loves,
My doves,
My eggs.
5 things we're thankful for, today.
1. I am thankful for SPF 15 and the sunshine to use it in.
2. I am thankful for John Denver, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.
3. I am thankful for my goldfish, Buffy, who is still alive after 31/2 weeks.
4. I am thankful for the fresh fruit and vegetables always in my refridgerator.
5. I am thankful for all the inspiration Audrey Hepburn has lended me over the years, and I wish her soul a very happy 82nd would-be- birthday.
I've been away from home for the past 8 days, spending much needed best-friend-time with Becca, at her home in Auburn, Washington. The sun came out the last few days, we reconnected with old friends in Seattle, dappled in ancient and almost forgotten Disney movies, enjoyed a thrilling Fast Five Imax experience, and achieved dreams.
We tried to celebrate Star Wars, but succeeded only in the fact that 3 of us wore Star Wars t-shirts all day long in downtown Seattle. That's okay, we still felt proud of our failure, as most humans tend to feel.
It was a beautiful trip, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to stay so long at one of my favorite places.
It's that time again, and today I've posted three new quotes on the fridge.
"Break the monotony. Do something strange and extravagant." -Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." -Jack Kerouac
And my favorite:
"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone." -Audrey Hepburn.
I also feel I should mention that I've not gotten behind on my avid habit of reading, I've just been forgetting to update you all on it. :)
So, here's a list of the books I've finished since December.
The Godfather- Mario Puzo
Eat Pray Love- Elisabeth Gilbert
Agnes Grey- Anne Bronte
The Secret Life of Bees- Sue Monk Kidd
Peter Pan- J.M. Barrie
Breakfast at Tiffany's- Truman Capote
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek- Annie Dillard
Ariel- Sylvia Plath
Notes from the Underground- Fyodor Dostoevsky
And I'm almost finished with Steinbeck's Winter of Our Discontent.
9 books in five months. I'm not going to deny that I'm rather proud of that. Almost 10 books.
I love reading.
I'm also taking a literary journey through the Abridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, and as soon as I finish Winter, I'm going to delve deliciously into Love in the Time of Cholera, as I've had it ever since Summer and have been waiting for the right time to read it. I feel this glorious month of May will be the perfect appointed time. Excitement.
This certainly seems to be the post of lists, doesn't it?
List-o-mania if you will. ;)
Here's one last closing list I will leave you with.
My father were sitting around on a sunny day, took a drive in his rickety old van, and began to laugh. This was the humor-baby that was born out of our ridiculous conversation.
Hannah's Top Ten List of Inspirational People
1. Jesus
2. Walt Disney
3. Michael Jackson.
(Good enough right? I mean, technically, that's all you need in life. But no. It goes on.)
4. Hercules.
5. Mr. Rogers
6. George Lucas
7. My dentist.
8. Sonny Bono
9. Jack Daniels
10. The Guy that Invented Dairy Queen.
So there, you have it. I hope it made you laugh, or smile, or even choke on your beverage.
A few honorable mentions included of course, Ringo Starr, Tim Allen, Lassie and for those SNL lovers out there: Terd Ferguson, but you can't win 'em all, now, can you? :)
Oh, before I leave, I just want to wish every one of you a very intergalactic Happy International Star Wars Day!
May the Fourth be with you.
;)
My loves,
My doves,
My eggs.
Monday, April 11, 2011
My Goldfish Friend
I bought a goldfish yesterday.
Some might consider it an impulse buy, but I don't believe a 75cent fish is ever an impulse buy. It's a gift you give yourself.
The whole thing, from fish to net to flakes to blue aqua rocks, cost me $6.72. I'm using one of my mother's large vases as the bowl. I named her Buffy. My friend also bought one, and named hers Joan Jett. Together we're "new fish mommies."
Buffy's a pretty, amber sort of gold, with a black spot running from the tip of her dorsal fin all the way down to her mouth. The rest of her fins are gold in the middle and rimmed with black, lacey edges. She's the most beautiful goldfish I've ever seen, and I love her.
I read in a book about a lady who had trained her goldfish to recognize three taps on the glass rim meant it was feeding time; I'm trying to do this with Buffy. The author never said how long it took for the goldfish to catch on. My fish hasn't quite gotten the idea of the flakes being on top of the water, and she seems pretty unaware of my vigorous tapping on the rim of the vase everytime I go to feed her.
I'm sure we'll have a breakthrough eventually.
I also read on a random website that sometimes goldfish need enrichment in their boring, glass bowl lives, and that every now and then I should surprise mine with extra nourishment and nutrients. Take, for instance, cucumbers.
Cucumbers.
I can't imagine.
How small would you have to chop them?
And how many would I give her? How much is too much?
Would there be an even bigger mess to clean up than the mess she leaves from fish flakes?
Would the leftover cucumbers turn the water a gross sort of pale green?
Do cucumbers mold in water?
Wouldn't the mold contaminate the goldfish?
.... Feeding cucumbers to a goldfish?? Fancy that!
Fish really are fascinating creatures, though. I feel like I could sit by my bedside table and watch her swim around and around for hours. The way they move alone is inspiring to no end. I've always been jealous of sea creatures and their ability to effortlessly propel themselves underwater. Sometimes it doesn't even look like their moving, they're just floating. "Being and breathing," just like my favorite Yogi Baron Baptiste says about meditating during Twisting Triangle pose.
It's a strange thing about goldfish, but I feel like Buffy will help me with my writing. I can't explain why, but it really just feels like good authorship to have her around. I'm not sure if it's her presence that is making me feel so inspired, but I've already got big plans today for me, my laptop and my saved, unfinished Microsoft Word documents.
It's a little unnerving knowing I'm sharing my room with another living creature, though. I haven't had a pet of my own in a really long time. There's a quiet sort of reverence and awe that comes over me when I observe her in all her secret, marine splendor. A respect for Buffy's life.
I know she's just a goldfish, but she's a living, breathing thing. All living things deserve respect. Even the small, curious looking beetle I found on my pillow yesterday, which I carried all the way downstairs and outside to put on a leaf.
You get what you give, you know?
Suffice it to say, I really hope she doesn't die in two weeks. I'm already hopelessly attached to the way she voraciously eats, and also the way she just stays, floating in one spot and her odd preoccupation with swimming backwards until her Caudal fin touches the glass wall behind her.
She's kind of an odd duck for a goldfish, by my understandings. I like that about her, though. She's got gumption.
Before I close this goldfishy post, I want to share something I learned yesterday about the communication habits of Chameleons.
My two friends and I were at the pet store, and one of them fell in love with an adorable young chameleon with its tail curled up, lazily, yet cautiously crawling up the small branch in its terrarium. Later in the day, she was looking up Chameleon care facts, and shared with me one of the most amazing and astounding things I've ever heard.
Did you know that Chameleons change color not only to camoflauge themselves for predatory or protective reasons, but also to communicate with each other?
Witnessing a feat like that is something I can't even imagine.
Stumbling upon two beautiful, highly unique creatures unaware of my intrusive presence, communicating with each other by usage of bright flashes of varying color, and affectionate flicks of their unnaturally long tongues?
What are they saying?
If I were a biologist, I would make it my life's work to study the patterns and meanings of Chameleon communication. In fact, the whole thing makes me want to be a biologist just so I could study it anyways.
God has created the most fascinating world, hasn't He?
My loves,
My doves,
my eggs.
Some might consider it an impulse buy, but I don't believe a 75cent fish is ever an impulse buy. It's a gift you give yourself.
The whole thing, from fish to net to flakes to blue aqua rocks, cost me $6.72. I'm using one of my mother's large vases as the bowl. I named her Buffy. My friend also bought one, and named hers Joan Jett. Together we're "new fish mommies."
Buffy's a pretty, amber sort of gold, with a black spot running from the tip of her dorsal fin all the way down to her mouth. The rest of her fins are gold in the middle and rimmed with black, lacey edges. She's the most beautiful goldfish I've ever seen, and I love her.
I read in a book about a lady who had trained her goldfish to recognize three taps on the glass rim meant it was feeding time; I'm trying to do this with Buffy. The author never said how long it took for the goldfish to catch on. My fish hasn't quite gotten the idea of the flakes being on top of the water, and she seems pretty unaware of my vigorous tapping on the rim of the vase everytime I go to feed her.
I'm sure we'll have a breakthrough eventually.
I also read on a random website that sometimes goldfish need enrichment in their boring, glass bowl lives, and that every now and then I should surprise mine with extra nourishment and nutrients. Take, for instance, cucumbers.
Cucumbers.
I can't imagine.
How small would you have to chop them?
And how many would I give her? How much is too much?
Would there be an even bigger mess to clean up than the mess she leaves from fish flakes?
Would the leftover cucumbers turn the water a gross sort of pale green?
Do cucumbers mold in water?
Wouldn't the mold contaminate the goldfish?
.... Feeding cucumbers to a goldfish?? Fancy that!
Fish really are fascinating creatures, though. I feel like I could sit by my bedside table and watch her swim around and around for hours. The way they move alone is inspiring to no end. I've always been jealous of sea creatures and their ability to effortlessly propel themselves underwater. Sometimes it doesn't even look like their moving, they're just floating. "Being and breathing," just like my favorite Yogi Baron Baptiste says about meditating during Twisting Triangle pose.
It's a strange thing about goldfish, but I feel like Buffy will help me with my writing. I can't explain why, but it really just feels like good authorship to have her around. I'm not sure if it's her presence that is making me feel so inspired, but I've already got big plans today for me, my laptop and my saved, unfinished Microsoft Word documents.
It's a little unnerving knowing I'm sharing my room with another living creature, though. I haven't had a pet of my own in a really long time. There's a quiet sort of reverence and awe that comes over me when I observe her in all her secret, marine splendor. A respect for Buffy's life.
I know she's just a goldfish, but she's a living, breathing thing. All living things deserve respect. Even the small, curious looking beetle I found on my pillow yesterday, which I carried all the way downstairs and outside to put on a leaf.
You get what you give, you know?
Suffice it to say, I really hope she doesn't die in two weeks. I'm already hopelessly attached to the way she voraciously eats, and also the way she just stays, floating in one spot and her odd preoccupation with swimming backwards until her Caudal fin touches the glass wall behind her.
She's kind of an odd duck for a goldfish, by my understandings. I like that about her, though. She's got gumption.
Before I close this goldfishy post, I want to share something I learned yesterday about the communication habits of Chameleons.
My two friends and I were at the pet store, and one of them fell in love with an adorable young chameleon with its tail curled up, lazily, yet cautiously crawling up the small branch in its terrarium. Later in the day, she was looking up Chameleon care facts, and shared with me one of the most amazing and astounding things I've ever heard.
Did you know that Chameleons change color not only to camoflauge themselves for predatory or protective reasons, but also to communicate with each other?
Witnessing a feat like that is something I can't even imagine.
Stumbling upon two beautiful, highly unique creatures unaware of my intrusive presence, communicating with each other by usage of bright flashes of varying color, and affectionate flicks of their unnaturally long tongues?
What are they saying?
If I were a biologist, I would make it my life's work to study the patterns and meanings of Chameleon communication. In fact, the whole thing makes me want to be a biologist just so I could study it anyways.
God has created the most fascinating world, hasn't He?
My loves,
My doves,
my eggs.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Sold, Bought or Processed.
"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't wanna sell anything bought or processed, buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought or processed- or repair anything sold, bought or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."
These lines from the 1989 cult classic, "Say Anything" are a few of my favorite movie lines ever. I finally realized why tonight: I feel the exact same way about my life and my future, and frankly, that scares the livin' bajeezus out of me.
Life is abysmally confusing. And expensive.
So is college.
The more and more I think and research my choices for further education, the more I'm convinced college is a complete egoist scam that serves no other purpose than for graduates to flounce around after course completion singing, "I've got a bigger degree than you, na-nana-nana-naaaaah!"
I mean, really. To what end? You get a degree so you can get a job, right? Oh, wait. You don't meet the required standard. You have to go back to school to get more schooling, only to find out there's no available positions at this time for your career of choice. Or, we're sorry, but you're just too overqualified for this job. We need someone less knowledgeable on the subject. Say what? I spent thousands and thousands of dollars on this degree so I could work at this company, only to find out that I know too much?
Ooh, how about this one: I graduated from Harvard! Whoo!.... 5 years later: I hate being a lawyer. This sucks.
Or this one: Sorry. You've done the work and have the degree, but it just comes down to the fact that you're not innovative enough for this line of work. What can you offer to this field that nobody else can? You have the grades. Your creativity and ingenuity is lacking. No positions currently available for you.
Or my personal favorite: Uhhhh, my four years are up. I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
See what I mean?
Of course, I have to constantly remind myself that this isn't true. I know lots of people, close friends and loved ones, who are going to college and who have gone to college, and it's done them a great service, and they're not all a bunch of egotistical, sufficiently unhappy maniacs.
But what about me?
Now, I've known for the past ten years that college is not an optional decision. Not because of overly strict parental authority, (remember: This is not The Breakfast Club, here) but because I grew up in a very man-centered society, and because women were not expected or encouraged to go to college. This blew my passionate, stubborn seven year old mind to volcanic proportions. And I decided I was going to grow up to be a feminist who went to college and got the biggest degree that I could just so I could prove to everyone that women really are smarter than men, because God says so. Because God gave me this flashy degree and this flashy career, and He still loves me. So there. Pppbbbbbth. (I was a very independently minded seven year old, I tell you.)
This incredible enthusiasm and passion to preserve and protect the sacred sanctity of the female sex drove me all the way through high school, where I even pushed hard to graduate two years early.
Now, a few years later, I still firmly believe in the education of all young people, male or female, if it's what they really desire, but I'm not as overbearing as I once was, and I'm far less judgemental on the subject. I also regret that my adamantly formed opinions caused me to have a rather bitter taste in my mouth regarding that society I grew up in.
I am, regardless, still a feminist at heart. Perhaps only a closet-case one now, though. You can take the woman away from power, but you can't take power away from the woman, you know what I mean?
Anyways, all this to say: I've never thought about not going to college. Up until about two years ago, when I started to realize my interests were leading me away from the CEO parking space, successful mother and businesswoman, part-time professional chef and astronaut, Forbes' Woman of the Year fantasy my seven year old self lived for, and towards something a little less impressive. And a lot less stable.
You learn something new everyday.
You also learn something new about yourself every hour of your life. Trust me. I am the epitome of this philosophy.
Tonight, after a stressed-to-the-point-of-collapse episode full of tears and incoherent blubbering, I learned that long-term college may not be in my future. In fact, a BA altogether is probably completely out of the picture for my life.
This was a strangely liberating experience, after 10 years of "I'M GOING TO RULE THE WOOORLD!"
At this point, my associate's degree is up in the air, too. College is severely over-rated for somebody like me. Now, I don't want to sound like a self-absorbed, delusional freak of nature here. I'm not saying that college is over-rated for everyone, because so many people can and should go to college and universities and get their BAs and their MAs and their PhDs because that is the best thing for them to do. That all makes total sense to me. I have a close, close friend who is bound and determined to get her PhD in Psychology, someday. My cousin has a chance to go to a $35,000 a year private college to get her nursing degree so she can save lives. My best friend is headed for years of hard work to get a degree in fashion so she can revolutionize the clothing world. These dreams and goals are all so integral and important for these individuals. I wouldn't want any less for them!
But as for me, I'm not really sure what all college has to offer me.
I have the chance to do something great with my life. Phenomenal, even. I know this. I know that God will open doors for me left and right, if I follow His little trail of breadcrumbs, starting with the most basic of breadcrumbs that He's already dropped into my life: writing.
Writing is who I am. It defines me. I bleed ink. I dream words.
Fine-tuning this skill is not a bad idea, and that is exactly why I probably will go ahead and get my AA, just so I can perfect my technique, and take some awesome electives about the history of folklore and mythology, and women's studies, so I can have more to write about in the future.
But what I really want to do with my life is work an average job, be it waitress, barista or bookstore clerk, and I want to write on the side. I want to travel, and the way that I scratch and pinch and save my money, I know I can afford to do that, and then write about those experiences as well.
Do you honestly think I need a bachelor's degree to work at Starbucks and enter my poetry into local magazines? I don't think so either.
I read more than almost anybody I know. To me, this is the greatest way to gain knowledge, and that's the single, solitary way I'll continue to learn for the rest of my life, through reading.
I believe strongly in reading, relationships, faith and culture. These are the professors I'm going to learn the most from. These classes test on strength of character, ability to transition, fear, tangeability, responsibility, head knowledge and heart knowledge. This is the college of life, and that is where I want to recieve my certificate of completion from.
The best thing about this college of life is there's no application process. We're all already automatically enrolled from the day we're brought, wailing and thrusting into this beautiful world.
In January, I'll be going to a Bible school for one year. I might take a few college classes online. And then after that, I'll probably crack down on getting my AA.
After that, who knows? There's a 12 week cooking college in Ireland that I'm interested in. Maybe I'll go to bartending school. Maybe I'll work at Disneyworld. Maybe I'll start traveling. Maybe God will open doors for me on another continent. Maybe I'll learn Italian and become a Yoga instructor in Rome. Maybe I'll end up in a third world country, teaching English to malnourished children, and sharing the gift of reading and writing with them, so that someday they can grow up and say "I want to be educated and help others, too." Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll be a young mother. Maybe I'll be single for the rest of my life.
Life is full of infinite possibilities, and for me, they all stem from organic causes that really have nothing to do with a high-brow education.
Besides. If I ever want to go back to school and get my BA, or even my MA so that someday I can bore countless youths with my university lectures about life and the lessons you learn from "Catcher in the Rye", then you can absolutely bet your bottom dollar that I will wholeheartedly commit to that goal.
As for now? I guess I'm just flying by the seat of my pants. And somewhere, deep down inside of me, that seven year old is actually enthusiastic for this lack of planning. I think she's gurgling excitedly, "Imagine if I do everything I ever wanted to do? How much more impressive would that be than a silly CEO parking space??!!"
I have to say, I agree with her.
So.
Here's to the future, and it's delicious ambiguity.
Here's to supportive parents who agree with your far-fetched idealism, and radical nuances.
More importantly, here's to the college of life, and all the millions of degrees it offers, favoring no particular race, gender or social standard. The only eligibility requirement is the oxygen flowing through your lungs, the realization that you are alive.
My loves,
My doves,
my eggs.
These lines from the 1989 cult classic, "Say Anything" are a few of my favorite movie lines ever. I finally realized why tonight: I feel the exact same way about my life and my future, and frankly, that scares the livin' bajeezus out of me.
Life is abysmally confusing. And expensive.
So is college.
The more and more I think and research my choices for further education, the more I'm convinced college is a complete egoist scam that serves no other purpose than for graduates to flounce around after course completion singing, "I've got a bigger degree than you, na-nana-nana-naaaaah!"
I mean, really. To what end? You get a degree so you can get a job, right? Oh, wait. You don't meet the required standard. You have to go back to school to get more schooling, only to find out there's no available positions at this time for your career of choice. Or, we're sorry, but you're just too overqualified for this job. We need someone less knowledgeable on the subject. Say what? I spent thousands and thousands of dollars on this degree so I could work at this company, only to find out that I know too much?
Ooh, how about this one: I graduated from Harvard! Whoo!.... 5 years later: I hate being a lawyer. This sucks.
Or this one: Sorry. You've done the work and have the degree, but it just comes down to the fact that you're not innovative enough for this line of work. What can you offer to this field that nobody else can? You have the grades. Your creativity and ingenuity is lacking. No positions currently available for you.
Or my personal favorite: Uhhhh, my four years are up. I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
See what I mean?
Of course, I have to constantly remind myself that this isn't true. I know lots of people, close friends and loved ones, who are going to college and who have gone to college, and it's done them a great service, and they're not all a bunch of egotistical, sufficiently unhappy maniacs.
But what about me?
Now, I've known for the past ten years that college is not an optional decision. Not because of overly strict parental authority, (remember: This is not The Breakfast Club, here) but because I grew up in a very man-centered society, and because women were not expected or encouraged to go to college. This blew my passionate, stubborn seven year old mind to volcanic proportions. And I decided I was going to grow up to be a feminist who went to college and got the biggest degree that I could just so I could prove to everyone that women really are smarter than men, because God says so. Because God gave me this flashy degree and this flashy career, and He still loves me. So there. Pppbbbbbth. (I was a very independently minded seven year old, I tell you.)
This incredible enthusiasm and passion to preserve and protect the sacred sanctity of the female sex drove me all the way through high school, where I even pushed hard to graduate two years early.
Now, a few years later, I still firmly believe in the education of all young people, male or female, if it's what they really desire, but I'm not as overbearing as I once was, and I'm far less judgemental on the subject. I also regret that my adamantly formed opinions caused me to have a rather bitter taste in my mouth regarding that society I grew up in.
I am, regardless, still a feminist at heart. Perhaps only a closet-case one now, though. You can take the woman away from power, but you can't take power away from the woman, you know what I mean?
Anyways, all this to say: I've never thought about not going to college. Up until about two years ago, when I started to realize my interests were leading me away from the CEO parking space, successful mother and businesswoman, part-time professional chef and astronaut, Forbes' Woman of the Year fantasy my seven year old self lived for, and towards something a little less impressive. And a lot less stable.
You learn something new everyday.
You also learn something new about yourself every hour of your life. Trust me. I am the epitome of this philosophy.
Tonight, after a stressed-to-the-point-of-collapse episode full of tears and incoherent blubbering, I learned that long-term college may not be in my future. In fact, a BA altogether is probably completely out of the picture for my life.
This was a strangely liberating experience, after 10 years of "I'M GOING TO RULE THE WOOORLD!"
At this point, my associate's degree is up in the air, too. College is severely over-rated for somebody like me. Now, I don't want to sound like a self-absorbed, delusional freak of nature here. I'm not saying that college is over-rated for everyone, because so many people can and should go to college and universities and get their BAs and their MAs and their PhDs because that is the best thing for them to do. That all makes total sense to me. I have a close, close friend who is bound and determined to get her PhD in Psychology, someday. My cousin has a chance to go to a $35,000 a year private college to get her nursing degree so she can save lives. My best friend is headed for years of hard work to get a degree in fashion so she can revolutionize the clothing world. These dreams and goals are all so integral and important for these individuals. I wouldn't want any less for them!
But as for me, I'm not really sure what all college has to offer me.
I have the chance to do something great with my life. Phenomenal, even. I know this. I know that God will open doors for me left and right, if I follow His little trail of breadcrumbs, starting with the most basic of breadcrumbs that He's already dropped into my life: writing.
Writing is who I am. It defines me. I bleed ink. I dream words.
Fine-tuning this skill is not a bad idea, and that is exactly why I probably will go ahead and get my AA, just so I can perfect my technique, and take some awesome electives about the history of folklore and mythology, and women's studies, so I can have more to write about in the future.
But what I really want to do with my life is work an average job, be it waitress, barista or bookstore clerk, and I want to write on the side. I want to travel, and the way that I scratch and pinch and save my money, I know I can afford to do that, and then write about those experiences as well.
Do you honestly think I need a bachelor's degree to work at Starbucks and enter my poetry into local magazines? I don't think so either.
I read more than almost anybody I know. To me, this is the greatest way to gain knowledge, and that's the single, solitary way I'll continue to learn for the rest of my life, through reading.
I believe strongly in reading, relationships, faith and culture. These are the professors I'm going to learn the most from. These classes test on strength of character, ability to transition, fear, tangeability, responsibility, head knowledge and heart knowledge. This is the college of life, and that is where I want to recieve my certificate of completion from.
The best thing about this college of life is there's no application process. We're all already automatically enrolled from the day we're brought, wailing and thrusting into this beautiful world.
In January, I'll be going to a Bible school for one year. I might take a few college classes online. And then after that, I'll probably crack down on getting my AA.
After that, who knows? There's a 12 week cooking college in Ireland that I'm interested in. Maybe I'll go to bartending school. Maybe I'll work at Disneyworld. Maybe I'll start traveling. Maybe God will open doors for me on another continent. Maybe I'll learn Italian and become a Yoga instructor in Rome. Maybe I'll end up in a third world country, teaching English to malnourished children, and sharing the gift of reading and writing with them, so that someday they can grow up and say "I want to be educated and help others, too." Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll be a young mother. Maybe I'll be single for the rest of my life.
Life is full of infinite possibilities, and for me, they all stem from organic causes that really have nothing to do with a high-brow education.
Besides. If I ever want to go back to school and get my BA, or even my MA so that someday I can bore countless youths with my university lectures about life and the lessons you learn from "Catcher in the Rye", then you can absolutely bet your bottom dollar that I will wholeheartedly commit to that goal.
As for now? I guess I'm just flying by the seat of my pants. And somewhere, deep down inside of me, that seven year old is actually enthusiastic for this lack of planning. I think she's gurgling excitedly, "Imagine if I do everything I ever wanted to do? How much more impressive would that be than a silly CEO parking space??!!"
I have to say, I agree with her.
So.
Here's to the future, and it's delicious ambiguity.
Here's to supportive parents who agree with your far-fetched idealism, and radical nuances.
More importantly, here's to the college of life, and all the millions of degrees it offers, favoring no particular race, gender or social standard. The only eligibility requirement is the oxygen flowing through your lungs, the realization that you are alive.
My loves,
My doves,
my eggs.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Stickies
I have three quotes on my fridge. Three iconic emblems spoken by three different feminine angels of talent and humanity.
Ever since December, I've been putting quotes on my fridge rather religiously. I rotate them based on an internal clock that rings the alarm whenever the time has come to change them. I can't tell you how often I rotate them, there's no set schedule. Some stay on the fridge longer than others. All I know is that suddenly, I'll walk past them and the alarm will go off. I take them down and spend a few moments deciding which new ones to put up.
The last ones I had were for St. Patty's day.
A poem, a blessing, a quote.
These new ones are based somewhat on my current reading agenda, and also on a few of the thoughts that have been running through my head the past few weeks. Probably ever since Lent started.
These quotes that I've been putting on my fridge make me happy. I don't know why. it's a secret little thrill I get inside everytime I open the fridge door and the words fly into my face. A little tickle in my brain. A loving, little nudge in a new direction. A little whisper of peacefulness.
Perhaps the greatest part, however, is noticing the effect they have on others. Sticky quotes have a marvelously captivating presence about them. Individuals can't walk into the kitchen without taking a side glance at them on the shiny black exterior of the refridgerator. And then they can't help pausing to stand and read them all, letting them soak in to their cognitive processing. There's always a little bit of a flutter when I put new ones up. Sometimes I don't say anything, instead I watch and wait for everyone to notice the subtle change of pattern and color in front of them. Sometimes I announce, "New quotes on the fridge!" To which I usually recieve the reply of someone getting up from their chair and traveling into the kitchen to benefit from a different sort of bodily nutrition, of food for thought.
There might be a discussion afterwards.
There might be a confused frown.
A laughing smile.
I never know what reaction I will get from these notes.
A lot of times they have a theme, even though I never mean for them to. Sometimes there's three or four quotes on determination, and inspiration. Sometimes, they're about finding peace and proclaim a gentle reassurance.
The ones I've just put up a few moments ago were all uttered by female intuition. I guess that's the theme for this rotation.
Two of the quotes I discovered through my reading, the last, I researched specifically.
"Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there." -Annie Dillard, from her Walden, "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek."
"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting inbetween." -Sylvia Plath, from her posthumously published diaries, "The Journals of Sylvia Plath."
"We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop."- Mother Teresa
I guess my secret desire with these quotes is that someday, somebody will respond to them. Someone will take the time to find their own favorite quote and stick it right up there, right next to mine. Giving me some unforeseen food for thought. A new sticky quote on the fridge friend.
Wouldn't that just be the cat's pajamas?
Ever since December, I've been putting quotes on my fridge rather religiously. I rotate them based on an internal clock that rings the alarm whenever the time has come to change them. I can't tell you how often I rotate them, there's no set schedule. Some stay on the fridge longer than others. All I know is that suddenly, I'll walk past them and the alarm will go off. I take them down and spend a few moments deciding which new ones to put up.
The last ones I had were for St. Patty's day.
A poem, a blessing, a quote.
These new ones are based somewhat on my current reading agenda, and also on a few of the thoughts that have been running through my head the past few weeks. Probably ever since Lent started.
These quotes that I've been putting on my fridge make me happy. I don't know why. it's a secret little thrill I get inside everytime I open the fridge door and the words fly into my face. A little tickle in my brain. A loving, little nudge in a new direction. A little whisper of peacefulness.
Perhaps the greatest part, however, is noticing the effect they have on others. Sticky quotes have a marvelously captivating presence about them. Individuals can't walk into the kitchen without taking a side glance at them on the shiny black exterior of the refridgerator. And then they can't help pausing to stand and read them all, letting them soak in to their cognitive processing. There's always a little bit of a flutter when I put new ones up. Sometimes I don't say anything, instead I watch and wait for everyone to notice the subtle change of pattern and color in front of them. Sometimes I announce, "New quotes on the fridge!" To which I usually recieve the reply of someone getting up from their chair and traveling into the kitchen to benefit from a different sort of bodily nutrition, of food for thought.
There might be a discussion afterwards.
There might be a confused frown.
A laughing smile.
I never know what reaction I will get from these notes.
A lot of times they have a theme, even though I never mean for them to. Sometimes there's three or four quotes on determination, and inspiration. Sometimes, they're about finding peace and proclaim a gentle reassurance.
The ones I've just put up a few moments ago were all uttered by female intuition. I guess that's the theme for this rotation.
Two of the quotes I discovered through my reading, the last, I researched specifically.
"Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there." -Annie Dillard, from her Walden, "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek."
"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting inbetween." -Sylvia Plath, from her posthumously published diaries, "The Journals of Sylvia Plath."
"We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop."- Mother Teresa
I guess my secret desire with these quotes is that someday, somebody will respond to them. Someone will take the time to find their own favorite quote and stick it right up there, right next to mine. Giving me some unforeseen food for thought. A new sticky quote on the fridge friend.
Wouldn't that just be the cat's pajamas?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)