In response to Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye--written for my poetry class
Have you ever thought of Benjamin Franklin as a kid? Maybe he went by Benny then. What did Benny’s 2nd grade teacher think the first time she saw his name, no longer Benny, in the news paper? What would she say now if she could see his legacy?
Have you ever thought about Karl Marx having sex? About the father of modern day communism having a girlfriend? What did she think of him? Was she surprised by his ideas or did she just think of him as the nut job who kept her warm at night?
How about Shakespeare’s next door neighbor or Amelia Earhart’s childhood friend? Did Malcom X have a stock broker? Was he black? Who was Lewis Carroll’s drug dealer—assuming he did just write about bad trips and didn’t just actually have an imagination? Did Margret Thatcher’s mom know who she was raising?
We don’t think about famous people having a life. Actually that’s not true. Apparently the only people we care more about in our lives than ourselves are the people who grace the silver screen. Stop the presses The Beibs just winked, killing an old woman with a heart condition. We are fascinated by the day to day lives of these celebrities, what they’re wearing or more accurately, “who” they are wearing, when they cut their hair, do they like Starbucks or Peets, what shampoo do they use, who walks their dog? Seemingly mundane parts of regular people’s lives are blown out of proportion as the paparazzi try to capture Orlando Bloom tying his shoes.
But Hollywood aside, who cares about famous people’s day to day activities? Who cares who the barber of Hitler was—even if he was responsible for the stache he made infamous? We want to know what they are famous for and move on. Let’s not dwell, people. Newton discovered gravity after an incident with an apple. That’s all you need to know. We are being rushed through the spark-notes version of these people’s lives.
I find one problem with all this—you forget that these people are just that: people. They aren’t gods; they are humans. And they had lives outside of making history.
The poem, Famous, I guess only broadly relates to this and its connection can be found in the last part about being famous because “it never forgot what it could do”. Okay, great, the overall message is: be known for your ability and excel in whatever you are good at—and don’t worry if it’s significant or not because it’s great whatever you do.
I don’t like it. I mean, it’s all touchy-feely accept yourself crap and I can respect that. I just don’t think it’s the right thing for me. I can’t just be an accountant, famous only to my clients, because I just happen to be a really good accountant. For the record, I would be a horrible accountant, purely based on my mathematical inabilities. But that aside, the principle of be good at something no matter its importance just doesn’t fly with me.
I want to be famous to the world. I want to be the woman heard round the world… or something. I want, years from now my name to be read by kids in school; I want them to resent me and respect me because the question on the midterm they didn’t know was all about me.
I want people to remember me fondly. Not just my kids or the people who knew me. I want people to say, I never met her, but I know her. I know what she stood for and she stood for greatness. So write it down. I want to be famous.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Reasons Why Men Suck: The Rebuttal
Kind of jokingly googled "why do men suck" just because it was the first thing that popped into my head, not because I particularly wanted an answer. I got some interesting results, let me tell you. You know there is a mensuck.com? Yeah. Seriously. Well, even though I hadn't been serious about finding what google had to say about the issue, I ended up spending quite a bit of time reading about it. Man, am I NOT bitter. I'm a cock-eyed optimist compared to some of these women out there. Yeah, some of the things--most of them are actually really cliche. But some of these women seem to truly believe these things deep into their core. And I just wanna say, "gurl, who did you in?"
Two sites intrigued me in particular. One was a bunch of one-liners, like jokes, that were pretty funny, I'll be honest. Things like "How do you keep a man from drowning? Take your foot off his head." Things that the cynic in everyone might appreciate, especially if you like the idea of an ex drowning. But, I think about it and really, you could change the line to anything. How do you keep a idiot/slut/bitch/enemy from drowning? It'd still be funny. Another was "What do you call an intelligent man in America? A tourist." This one, however funny on the surface is actually quite ignorant on two levels. One purely being that I know many, many intelligent American men, and the other being that there are plenty of dumb/sleazy guys in other parts of the world. I don't want to offend anyone, so I won't name any specific places but there are countries known for their cat-calls and the like. We didn't build America on a bunch of idiots. I know that. Plus, half the people here have only been here a couple generations back-- soo... could be reasonable to think that "American" is too loose a term. The last one I'll share with you is this: "Why did God create man? Because a vibrator can't mow the lawn." Which I just think is so great. But also... I think your average man can do more than mow the lawn. Like, say, clean the gutters. I believe men fulfill a fundamental role in women's lives-- both emotionally and... house-worky...
The other site, was kind of... disturbing. It was a list of 54 things that were wrong with men. I'm now going to rebut the most ridiculous ones that I don't believe in.
4. Male pattern baldness.
WHAT? They have no control over this!! And, women bald too! Not me of course, I'm far too attractive. Hey, I dated a guy with a receding hair line; I thought it was kinda cute... At the time...
7. Scratch "their stuff" every 15 minutes
Maybe it itches? I don't know if this really qualifies as... like a real reason.
13. They’re hairy
Girl, you were just complaining about their lack of hair! Get yo story straight!
21. They let what their friends have to say impact them so much, it influences the decisions they make about everything
What? And you don't? Friends are everything. They are the dating version of in-laws. You gotta groove with him, but you also gotta fit in his life. If you don't like his friends, or his friends don't like you, or your friends don't like you, how do you think your lives can mesh together? And family is the same way. I don't know if I could date a guy my parents didn't like. Or who my friends didn't like. If I'm going to spend time with a guy dating him, he has to get along with my friends. Everyone has to fit together.
22. When they make you cry they think its funny
This sounds like a preeeeetttyyyy specific situation. I don't know any guy who is sadistic enough just to make me cry for the sake of a laugh. Maybe in elementary school when boys would throw rocks at you and call you stupid. Then they'd laugh when you cried. But... No... Not anymore.
24. MENopause, MENstruation... etc.....
What are you trying to say here? That men are to be blamed for menopause? That menstruation is bad because the word men is in it? That they are called that because men suck? And what is this etc business? What other words that apply ONLY to women start with men? You've lost me.
25. Men think its never the right time to talk about the relationship
That's because they associate the relationship talk with a problem between you. They don't want to think about the problems, they want to think about the nice things, the uncomplicated things. Naive, maybe, but definitely optimistic!
27. Men dont know when you want them to lie
I'm sorry I don't want men to lie... ever... I thought that was a given. Girl, you are twisted if you are thinking men should be lying to you. If you are digging for compliments, then you need to work of some self confidence issues and stop asking your man to LIE. If you ask him if this dress makes your butt look big you should be asking because you actually want to know, and you should actually want an honest response.
28. Break up with you the day before your anniversary
Do they? Always? Huh, I never noticed that. This seems pretty specific to you sweetie.
30. Like making fun of you when you do something wrong, as if they do everything perfectly all the time
See number 22.
31. Think beer, partying, and girls are the best things on earth
Yes, and I think beer, partying, and BOYS are the best things on earth. Besides, ya know, good company, good art, and good food.
35. Believe that women belong in the kitchen
Yeah, if they're from 1954. Welcome to the 21 century ladies and gents! We got equal rights yo!
38. Most guys eat whatever they want and don't gain a pound, its so annoying
Alright, I'll admit that people with fast metabolisms make me jealous, but reason 38 why men suck? Really? There are plenty of fat men, and plenty of skinny women. Don't hate.
42. Their ebonics
...Yeah, if you live in the ghetto. African American English is like... not just a male thing... And it's also pretty specific.
43. Pants are 4 sizes too big
Except in Seattle. Where they are 4 sizes too small.
44. We must not forget their manly tales about stupid stuff they probably never did
You're right.
45. They think a smack on the butt and "you'll get 'em next time" is an appropriate way to end a four year relationship
Preeeetty specific....
46. They think unhooking a woman's bra with one hand is a talent
True. Not a talent. Kind of average. More impressed if they can HOOK a bra with both hands.
51. After making love, they get up and raid the fridge...and the cynics say romance is dead
LAWL. It's exhausting work being a man, I'm sure. Using all that energy lovin' you has GOT to be draining. They need a pick me up.
53. They're all looking for a "nice, funny, smart girl" who just happens to look like Pamela Anderson and has the libido of a rabbit
Yeahhhhh... Maybe..... But.... I don't know I think it'd be nice to have a "nice, funny, smart BOY" who just happens to look like Orlando Bloom and has the libido of a rabbit. It's a fantasy thing. Best of both worlds. No one, at least no one I know goes out as says, "I'm looking for someone really dumb, and boring and please oh please let them be uggglyy!" That would be a weird fantasy. They hope is you get someone who you are attracted to, and trust me, not everyone is attracted to the same people. Some people's ugly might be another's pretty, and visa versa. But you want have to have standards. I want someone funny and lowkey, who likes my energy and is attractive. I go from there, and see what it gets me. It's not shallow, it's just fantasy.
Suffice it to say I had some pretty specific criticisms of the website overall. I think that I am the type of person who is pretty realistic. I'm not in some crazy fantasyland where men wear shining armor and carry around bouquets of flowers to be thrown at pretty girls passing by. But I'm not drowning in cynicism. Romance is alive and well-- at lease I hope and pray it is. I believe in romance like a Catholic believes in the afterlife: It just has to exist. Otherwise... What's the point? Procreation? A flawed, flawed system where human kind continues to take over every crevice of the world? Lust? Where everyone just has meaningless sex all the time? Sounds like short lived pleasure, and a guaranteed way to spread STDs. No, love has to do with it. Love is why we are here. It's what makes us human and not animal. And I hate to remind y'all man-eaters out there, but you are only one half of the human race. You're angry, maybe, because they forgot about you once upon a time and left women on the wayside. Don't do the same to them. Give men the credit they deserve. They aren't bad. Some might be confused, or misguided, but you can't have love without them.
Two sites intrigued me in particular. One was a bunch of one-liners, like jokes, that were pretty funny, I'll be honest. Things like "How do you keep a man from drowning? Take your foot off his head." Things that the cynic in everyone might appreciate, especially if you like the idea of an ex drowning. But, I think about it and really, you could change the line to anything. How do you keep a idiot/slut/bitch/enemy from drowning? It'd still be funny. Another was "What do you call an intelligent man in America? A tourist." This one, however funny on the surface is actually quite ignorant on two levels. One purely being that I know many, many intelligent American men, and the other being that there are plenty of dumb/sleazy guys in other parts of the world. I don't want to offend anyone, so I won't name any specific places but there are countries known for their cat-calls and the like. We didn't build America on a bunch of idiots. I know that. Plus, half the people here have only been here a couple generations back-- soo... could be reasonable to think that "American" is too loose a term. The last one I'll share with you is this: "Why did God create man? Because a vibrator can't mow the lawn." Which I just think is so great. But also... I think your average man can do more than mow the lawn. Like, say, clean the gutters. I believe men fulfill a fundamental role in women's lives-- both emotionally and... house-worky...
The other site, was kind of... disturbing. It was a list of 54 things that were wrong with men. I'm now going to rebut the most ridiculous ones that I don't believe in.
4. Male pattern baldness.
WHAT? They have no control over this!! And, women bald too! Not me of course, I'm far too attractive. Hey, I dated a guy with a receding hair line; I thought it was kinda cute... At the time...
7. Scratch "their stuff" every 15 minutes
Maybe it itches? I don't know if this really qualifies as... like a real reason.
13. They’re hairy
Girl, you were just complaining about their lack of hair! Get yo story straight!
21. They let what their friends have to say impact them so much, it influences the decisions they make about everything
What? And you don't? Friends are everything. They are the dating version of in-laws. You gotta groove with him, but you also gotta fit in his life. If you don't like his friends, or his friends don't like you, or your friends don't like you, how do you think your lives can mesh together? And family is the same way. I don't know if I could date a guy my parents didn't like. Or who my friends didn't like. If I'm going to spend time with a guy dating him, he has to get along with my friends. Everyone has to fit together.
22. When they make you cry they think its funny
This sounds like a preeeeetttyyyy specific situation. I don't know any guy who is sadistic enough just to make me cry for the sake of a laugh. Maybe in elementary school when boys would throw rocks at you and call you stupid. Then they'd laugh when you cried. But... No... Not anymore.
24. MENopause, MENstruation... etc.....
What are you trying to say here? That men are to be blamed for menopause? That menstruation is bad because the word men is in it? That they are called that because men suck? And what is this etc business? What other words that apply ONLY to women start with men? You've lost me.
25. Men think its never the right time to talk about the relationship
That's because they associate the relationship talk with a problem between you. They don't want to think about the problems, they want to think about the nice things, the uncomplicated things. Naive, maybe, but definitely optimistic!
27. Men dont know when you want them to lie
I'm sorry I don't want men to lie... ever... I thought that was a given. Girl, you are twisted if you are thinking men should be lying to you. If you are digging for compliments, then you need to work of some self confidence issues and stop asking your man to LIE. If you ask him if this dress makes your butt look big you should be asking because you actually want to know, and you should actually want an honest response.
28. Break up with you the day before your anniversary
Do they? Always? Huh, I never noticed that. This seems pretty specific to you sweetie.
30. Like making fun of you when you do something wrong, as if they do everything perfectly all the time
See number 22.
31. Think beer, partying, and girls are the best things on earth
Yes, and I think beer, partying, and BOYS are the best things on earth. Besides, ya know, good company, good art, and good food.
35. Believe that women belong in the kitchen
Yeah, if they're from 1954. Welcome to the 21 century ladies and gents! We got equal rights yo!
38. Most guys eat whatever they want and don't gain a pound, its so annoying
Alright, I'll admit that people with fast metabolisms make me jealous, but reason 38 why men suck? Really? There are plenty of fat men, and plenty of skinny women. Don't hate.
42. Their ebonics
...Yeah, if you live in the ghetto. African American English is like... not just a male thing... And it's also pretty specific.
43. Pants are 4 sizes too big
Except in Seattle. Where they are 4 sizes too small.
44. We must not forget their manly tales about stupid stuff they probably never did
You're right.
45. They think a smack on the butt and "you'll get 'em next time" is an appropriate way to end a four year relationship
Preeeetty specific....
46. They think unhooking a woman's bra with one hand is a talent
True. Not a talent. Kind of average. More impressed if they can HOOK a bra with both hands.
51. After making love, they get up and raid the fridge...and the cynics say romance is dead
LAWL. It's exhausting work being a man, I'm sure. Using all that energy lovin' you has GOT to be draining. They need a pick me up.
53. They're all looking for a "nice, funny, smart girl" who just happens to look like Pamela Anderson and has the libido of a rabbit
Yeahhhhh... Maybe..... But.... I don't know I think it'd be nice to have a "nice, funny, smart BOY" who just happens to look like Orlando Bloom and has the libido of a rabbit. It's a fantasy thing. Best of both worlds. No one, at least no one I know goes out as says, "I'm looking for someone really dumb, and boring and please oh please let them be uggglyy!" That would be a weird fantasy. They hope is you get someone who you are attracted to, and trust me, not everyone is attracted to the same people. Some people's ugly might be another's pretty, and visa versa. But you want have to have standards. I want someone funny and lowkey, who likes my energy and is attractive. I go from there, and see what it gets me. It's not shallow, it's just fantasy.
Suffice it to say I had some pretty specific criticisms of the website overall. I think that I am the type of person who is pretty realistic. I'm not in some crazy fantasyland where men wear shining armor and carry around bouquets of flowers to be thrown at pretty girls passing by. But I'm not drowning in cynicism. Romance is alive and well-- at lease I hope and pray it is. I believe in romance like a Catholic believes in the afterlife: It just has to exist. Otherwise... What's the point? Procreation? A flawed, flawed system where human kind continues to take over every crevice of the world? Lust? Where everyone just has meaningless sex all the time? Sounds like short lived pleasure, and a guaranteed way to spread STDs. No, love has to do with it. Love is why we are here. It's what makes us human and not animal. And I hate to remind y'all man-eaters out there, but you are only one half of the human race. You're angry, maybe, because they forgot about you once upon a time and left women on the wayside. Don't do the same to them. Give men the credit they deserve. They aren't bad. Some might be confused, or misguided, but you can't have love without them.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Sunday Funday
Oh my gosh, I am afraid I may sound repetitive in the post, because just like Friday today was incredible. I woke up and just felt good. Did some laundry, listened to some music, generally normal Sunday morning activities. Then I called my friend Karen. This is where the day turned into something really spectacular.
We went to Sarducci's for lunch and had the most amazing sandwich ever created. Omigosh, seriously. I didn't just make love to my sandwich, it made love to me. Then we spent several hours literally running around downtown Seattle exploring. No map, no goal, no directions. Just us RUNNING around this city looking at things and laughing.
Really laughing. And really running. Running like the world would never end. On the water front just looking out into the water. Looking at statues (one living!) and cool things we'd never seen before. Seattle is an awesome place to just let loose. You can just wander for hours and not get bored. Between bumping into Pike's place and finding our way to the water front and going into art galleries. Just anything. Riding a carousel, or going into a photo both. Today was the perfect day for a movie music montage, me and Karen just running around looking sweet.
Why haven't I done this before? Gone down town a lot? I mean, of course I have gone down town before. But only a few times and to do pretty specific things. Now Karen and I have decided that Sunday is adventure day. Every Sunday, and any other day we can squeeze in for the rest of the quarter, we are going to explore Seattle--especially down town.
Tomorrow I'm going again. Maybe just to Capitol Hill. That sounds good.
So why DID I go today of all days you may ask. Well I'm just going to say it and then move on; I had a date. ^_^ For those who are curious, I think it went well. I hope it went well. But it was down town so it gave me an excuse to go down town and explore while I'm at it.
Seattle, when it is not raining, is really pretty. And even when it is raining, you get used to it, and learn to live with it. Now I'm making a promise to myself that I'm going to live each day in the beautiful city to the max. Because Sunday may be funday, but everyday is a gift! Live it up!
We went to Sarducci's for lunch and had the most amazing sandwich ever created. Omigosh, seriously. I didn't just make love to my sandwich, it made love to me. Then we spent several hours literally running around downtown Seattle exploring. No map, no goal, no directions. Just us RUNNING around this city looking at things and laughing.
Really laughing. And really running. Running like the world would never end. On the water front just looking out into the water. Looking at statues (one living!) and cool things we'd never seen before. Seattle is an awesome place to just let loose. You can just wander for hours and not get bored. Between bumping into Pike's place and finding our way to the water front and going into art galleries. Just anything. Riding a carousel, or going into a photo both. Today was the perfect day for a movie music montage, me and Karen just running around looking sweet.
Why haven't I done this before? Gone down town a lot? I mean, of course I have gone down town before. But only a few times and to do pretty specific things. Now Karen and I have decided that Sunday is adventure day. Every Sunday, and any other day we can squeeze in for the rest of the quarter, we are going to explore Seattle--especially down town.
Tomorrow I'm going again. Maybe just to Capitol Hill. That sounds good.
So why DID I go today of all days you may ask. Well I'm just going to say it and then move on; I had a date. ^_^ For those who are curious, I think it went well. I hope it went well. But it was down town so it gave me an excuse to go down town and explore while I'm at it.
Seattle, when it is not raining, is really pretty. And even when it is raining, you get used to it, and learn to live with it. Now I'm making a promise to myself that I'm going to live each day in the beautiful city to the max. Because Sunday may be funday, but everyday is a gift! Live it up!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Yesterday: AKA the Best Day of My Life
I know I have had a relatively short expanse of time on this often baffling world, but yesterday was really awesome. Often when people say that they had a really good day, they are talking about one element-- a great party, a great lunch, a great morning, a great conversation. It just made the whole day better, that one thing. Well I'm here to tell you, this ENTIRE DAY was awesome.
It started with me dressing in all black, because I was "mourning the death" of my friend "Kaylie" (names changed to maintain anonymity). She is not the type of person who parties a lot or goes crazy. She's a nice girl, a romantic, cutie pie to the max, wants to study law, writes poetry, crushes on professors.... But not someone who gets "fucked up". But my friend "Jerry" had convinced her to partake in some of her very first partaying. Some how that translated to her dying, which to say the least wasn't very encouraging for Kaylie-- but she's a good sport.
In any case, dressing for your friends death, when you know she is quite healthy and happy, is some what hilarious. Through out the day, I saw many of our mutual friends dressed in similar somber attire-- the news of her demise clearly had spread.
Then I went to my first class. Kind of an average class, and after I sat in the electrical engineering building to drink tea and study. I simultaneously discovered my love for the EE building and for tea yesterday. Tea is cheap. Cheaper than coffee, and a large is the same price as a small because you pay for the tea bag, not the amount of water, so it feels like a huge bargain. And, besides, I've had a cold for most of the week so tea i soothing. More soothing than coffee. Not that I have decided to, like, not drink coffee. That'd be like saying I'm going to stop breathing-- not possible and would kill me. I also discovered how much I love the EE building, because besides serving tea and coffee, it is also very very quiet in there. They have all these tables by nice windows near the coffee and tea place (cleverly named "Jolt Volt" because of it's home in the EE building) which is lovely. But also, the only people who go in there are nerds! Very very quiet, mild mannered EE nerds. Not at all like the coffee shop in the library which ironically is like the loudest place EVER. It's great for studying because no one is talking, everyone is just reading or doing math (bleh). There, I organized my entire quarters reading and homework, according to all my classes' syllabuses! That was AWESOME! I don't know if it's the OCD person in me, or what, but I love scheduling shit. In this case, my homework schedule. I now know exactly when everything is due, when everything should be started, and completed, in a way where I won't overload myself any one week or day. Everything is nice and neat, and written in my planner. And now I don't have to worry like "when is that do, etc?" because I WILL KNOW!!! YAY!!! That was a great contributor to my great day.
By the time I finished that I went to my second class. Another regular day. BUT AFTERRRRR....
I spent THREE hours in Red Square. I read my really interesting English book, people watched, talked to a man for an hour about UW, talked to my roommates best friend, Kaylie's roommate (who also knew about her imminent death), saw three people from my building, and two people from open mic, and ate maybe the best hot dog ever (and Kosher). Three hours. Three awesome hours just me myself and I watching the world. Sometimes joined by other people, but mostly just sitting alone having a grand old time. Seattle was SUNNY. SUNNY. In my black mourning garb, I was actually HOT. I was peeling off layers. I got tan! IN SEATTLE. WTF?? It was awesome. It was perfect weather. And I've been learning to be on my own, so being able to sit in one place by myself and not feel lonely or bored-- that's huge.
After THAT, I went to go get more tea, because I was thirsty and as I said before tea is great and cheep and soothing. So I'm in line, getting my tea when I hear a voice--near me-- yell my name. I turn around and to my surprise CHRISTOPHER from the Collective of Fall quarter (if you don't know what the collective is, it's just me, Christopher, and Winona, FIG friends who bonded and spent most of fall quarter together). I hadn't seen Christopher since fall quarter! For all I knew, he had DIED or merely fallen off the face of the world. We decided to sit and catch up, and we spent an hour just talking and it was so nice, I feel like crying just thinking about him. I don't think I realized how much I MISSED him. Well, after an hour we parted, both promising to keep in touch this quarter.
THEN, I found out that I had not one, but TWO care packages from home which was so cool. It contained a candy, the movie TANGLED (which I am SO TOTALLY WATCHING TONIGHT), a CUTE stuffed animal lady bug, etc. My mom is so sweet.
I finally got home to find my roommate and Jerry making jello and preparing for Kaylie's death later that night. We finished that, we watched an episode of Skins (UK), I read some of my book, and then my friend down the hall invited me to watch Sailor Moon with her. Which I totally did until dinner time. Then me, my Sailor Moon friend, and Kaylie ate at the BEST Thai place ever!
The night began after that, and lets just say, Kaylie didn't die, but we did have lots of fun.
What does this all mean? College is rad, as my friend Kellbow would say. It really is.
It started with me dressing in all black, because I was "mourning the death" of my friend "Kaylie" (names changed to maintain anonymity). She is not the type of person who parties a lot or goes crazy. She's a nice girl, a romantic, cutie pie to the max, wants to study law, writes poetry, crushes on professors.... But not someone who gets "fucked up". But my friend "Jerry" had convinced her to partake in some of her very first partaying. Some how that translated to her dying, which to say the least wasn't very encouraging for Kaylie-- but she's a good sport.
In any case, dressing for your friends death, when you know she is quite healthy and happy, is some what hilarious. Through out the day, I saw many of our mutual friends dressed in similar somber attire-- the news of her demise clearly had spread.
Then I went to my first class. Kind of an average class, and after I sat in the electrical engineering building to drink tea and study. I simultaneously discovered my love for the EE building and for tea yesterday. Tea is cheap. Cheaper than coffee, and a large is the same price as a small because you pay for the tea bag, not the amount of water, so it feels like a huge bargain. And, besides, I've had a cold for most of the week so tea i soothing. More soothing than coffee. Not that I have decided to, like, not drink coffee. That'd be like saying I'm going to stop breathing-- not possible and would kill me. I also discovered how much I love the EE building, because besides serving tea and coffee, it is also very very quiet in there. They have all these tables by nice windows near the coffee and tea place (cleverly named "Jolt Volt" because of it's home in the EE building) which is lovely. But also, the only people who go in there are nerds! Very very quiet, mild mannered EE nerds. Not at all like the coffee shop in the library which ironically is like the loudest place EVER. It's great for studying because no one is talking, everyone is just reading or doing math (bleh). There, I organized my entire quarters reading and homework, according to all my classes' syllabuses! That was AWESOME! I don't know if it's the OCD person in me, or what, but I love scheduling shit. In this case, my homework schedule. I now know exactly when everything is due, when everything should be started, and completed, in a way where I won't overload myself any one week or day. Everything is nice and neat, and written in my planner. And now I don't have to worry like "when is that do, etc?" because I WILL KNOW!!! YAY!!! That was a great contributor to my great day.
By the time I finished that I went to my second class. Another regular day. BUT AFTERRRRR....
I spent THREE hours in Red Square. I read my really interesting English book, people watched, talked to a man for an hour about UW, talked to my roommates best friend, Kaylie's roommate (who also knew about her imminent death), saw three people from my building, and two people from open mic, and ate maybe the best hot dog ever (and Kosher). Three hours. Three awesome hours just me myself and I watching the world. Sometimes joined by other people, but mostly just sitting alone having a grand old time. Seattle was SUNNY. SUNNY. In my black mourning garb, I was actually HOT. I was peeling off layers. I got tan! IN SEATTLE. WTF?? It was awesome. It was perfect weather. And I've been learning to be on my own, so being able to sit in one place by myself and not feel lonely or bored-- that's huge.
After THAT, I went to go get more tea, because I was thirsty and as I said before tea is great and cheep and soothing. So I'm in line, getting my tea when I hear a voice--near me-- yell my name. I turn around and to my surprise CHRISTOPHER from the Collective of Fall quarter (if you don't know what the collective is, it's just me, Christopher, and Winona, FIG friends who bonded and spent most of fall quarter together). I hadn't seen Christopher since fall quarter! For all I knew, he had DIED or merely fallen off the face of the world. We decided to sit and catch up, and we spent an hour just talking and it was so nice, I feel like crying just thinking about him. I don't think I realized how much I MISSED him. Well, after an hour we parted, both promising to keep in touch this quarter.
THEN, I found out that I had not one, but TWO care packages from home which was so cool. It contained a candy, the movie TANGLED (which I am SO TOTALLY WATCHING TONIGHT), a CUTE stuffed animal lady bug, etc. My mom is so sweet.
I finally got home to find my roommate and Jerry making jello and preparing for Kaylie's death later that night. We finished that, we watched an episode of Skins (UK), I read some of my book, and then my friend down the hall invited me to watch Sailor Moon with her. Which I totally did until dinner time. Then me, my Sailor Moon friend, and Kaylie ate at the BEST Thai place ever!
The night began after that, and lets just say, Kaylie didn't die, but we did have lots of fun.
What does this all mean? College is rad, as my friend Kellbow would say. It really is.
Two Short Stories
Barn Burning
This short (very very short) story I wrote in a writing circle. I know that lately I have done a lot of poetry and short stories. I promise the more bloggy posts haven’t totally disappeared. Part of it is a lack of time and energy to do a lot of writing, so mostly I am posting stuff that I’ve written recently, ie the last month.
It was an odd sort of summer, the summer of ’34. Hotter than most, and drier than any summer in remembrance. Inhospitable for most any living thing for a hundred miles. Except turtles. There were millions of those goddamn land turtles. People would try to knock the turtles of the road with their cars on their way into town. Not that town was much to talk about, especially during hot summers like these. Quiet; like a ghost town. Folks just didn’t want to haul their asses into town when every third person got heat stroke steppin’ outta the house. There was a barn in town. Probably the oldest building in the county. It had been out of commission for over 25 years, so the mayor deemed the barn to be used for storage. In the summer months they kept Fourth of July supplies in the decrepit barn. People for years to come never agreed what started the fire, some say it was ruffians playing a trick, others say it was just bad luck. But everyone agrees on one thing—it was the best display of fireworks the town had ever seen.
Window Seat
Dedicated to the man sitting next to me in the airplane going home from spring break.
Sitting on the plane, waiting for it to take off. People are shuffling around me, asking each other questions: “Is there room up there? Can you put my jacket up there? Isn’t that my seat? Can you help me? Where’s my book? Did you forget anything (too late now)? Have you turned off your cell phone?
I’m traveling alone. I have no one to ask me those questions. I’m shy so I don’t mind.
As people start to settle into their seats, a woman sits next to me. She smells sweet—like honeysuckle and lemon. I shift away from her in my seat and turn to face the window. I can feel her staring at the back of my head—I fell the heat her eyes must have, her soft breath against my neck. We are close. Too close. She’s not shy. But I’m shy and I scoot towards the window, my knees banging against the side of the plane. I hear sit back—perhaps giving up on introducing herself. I decidedly stay turned towards the window.
The plane takes off and the earth shrinks below us. I sit quietly, trying to make as little movement or noise as possible. It is an average plane ride. It smells like old upholstery and stale rolls, people’s hushed conversations can be heard all around, and of course, there is one kid who has to wail the entire flight, making us all miserable. Yup, pretty standard stuff.
I absent-mindedly grab for the in-flight magazine in the seat pocket in front of me and flip through a few pages, knowing it’s pointless but trying to act natural. Reading the in-flight magazine—or pretending to—was dumb. I shove it back and fold my arms close my eyes.
I shuffle my feet, trying to get comfortable but my leg just ends up brushing against the knee of the woman next to me. I pull away again and open my eyes impulsively. She shifts and I go back to facing the window.
What did I really care? The window didn’t mean anything to me. All that was there was… blue—what did blue matter to me? Nothing, that’s what.
I keep turned to the window the whole flight. When we start our decent, the woman next to me shifts my direction, looking out the window. Under her breath she muttered, “wow”. Quite the sight to see I guess.
After we land, the same bustling occurs as when people were boarding—asking questions like: “Did you get everything? Will you hand me that bag? Have you called your aunt to pick us up yet?” The woman next to me has a short conversation with her dad over the phone.
People are in all sorts of a hurry to get off the plane. I am in no rush. I am patient. Besides, I’d just get in peoples’ way. Such a nuisance. Once every one has left—after the last voice trailed away—I finally turn away from the window, stand up, unfold my cane and walk away. That’s what you get when you give a blind man a window seat.
This short (very very short) story I wrote in a writing circle. I know that lately I have done a lot of poetry and short stories. I promise the more bloggy posts haven’t totally disappeared. Part of it is a lack of time and energy to do a lot of writing, so mostly I am posting stuff that I’ve written recently, ie the last month.
It was an odd sort of summer, the summer of ’34. Hotter than most, and drier than any summer in remembrance. Inhospitable for most any living thing for a hundred miles. Except turtles. There were millions of those goddamn land turtles. People would try to knock the turtles of the road with their cars on their way into town. Not that town was much to talk about, especially during hot summers like these. Quiet; like a ghost town. Folks just didn’t want to haul their asses into town when every third person got heat stroke steppin’ outta the house. There was a barn in town. Probably the oldest building in the county. It had been out of commission for over 25 years, so the mayor deemed the barn to be used for storage. In the summer months they kept Fourth of July supplies in the decrepit barn. People for years to come never agreed what started the fire, some say it was ruffians playing a trick, others say it was just bad luck. But everyone agrees on one thing—it was the best display of fireworks the town had ever seen.
Window Seat
Dedicated to the man sitting next to me in the airplane going home from spring break.
Sitting on the plane, waiting for it to take off. People are shuffling around me, asking each other questions: “Is there room up there? Can you put my jacket up there? Isn’t that my seat? Can you help me? Where’s my book? Did you forget anything (too late now)? Have you turned off your cell phone?
I’m traveling alone. I have no one to ask me those questions. I’m shy so I don’t mind.
As people start to settle into their seats, a woman sits next to me. She smells sweet—like honeysuckle and lemon. I shift away from her in my seat and turn to face the window. I can feel her staring at the back of my head—I fell the heat her eyes must have, her soft breath against my neck. We are close. Too close. She’s not shy. But I’m shy and I scoot towards the window, my knees banging against the side of the plane. I hear sit back—perhaps giving up on introducing herself. I decidedly stay turned towards the window.
The plane takes off and the earth shrinks below us. I sit quietly, trying to make as little movement or noise as possible. It is an average plane ride. It smells like old upholstery and stale rolls, people’s hushed conversations can be heard all around, and of course, there is one kid who has to wail the entire flight, making us all miserable. Yup, pretty standard stuff.
I absent-mindedly grab for the in-flight magazine in the seat pocket in front of me and flip through a few pages, knowing it’s pointless but trying to act natural. Reading the in-flight magazine—or pretending to—was dumb. I shove it back and fold my arms close my eyes.
I shuffle my feet, trying to get comfortable but my leg just ends up brushing against the knee of the woman next to me. I pull away again and open my eyes impulsively. She shifts and I go back to facing the window.
What did I really care? The window didn’t mean anything to me. All that was there was… blue—what did blue matter to me? Nothing, that’s what.
I keep turned to the window the whole flight. When we start our decent, the woman next to me shifts my direction, looking out the window. Under her breath she muttered, “wow”. Quite the sight to see I guess.
After we land, the same bustling occurs as when people were boarding—asking questions like: “Did you get everything? Will you hand me that bag? Have you called your aunt to pick us up yet?” The woman next to me has a short conversation with her dad over the phone.
People are in all sorts of a hurry to get off the plane. I am in no rush. I am patient. Besides, I’d just get in peoples’ way. Such a nuisance. Once every one has left—after the last voice trailed away—I finally turn away from the window, stand up, unfold my cane and walk away. That’s what you get when you give a blind man a window seat.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Bucket List (Very In Progress)
1. Eat Key lime pie in Key West
2. Go to an Irish pub and drink Guinness
3. Get a tattoo
4. See The Bucket List
5. Get published
6. Play Aunt Tanya in Mamma Mia
7. Play Aunt Eller in Oklahoma (again)
8. Shave my head
9. Get married
10. Get scuba certified
11. Learn American Sign Language
12. Learn how to ride a motorcycle
13. Go to Brazil and party with Brazilians
14. Travel throughout Greece
15. Visit Australia and New Zealand
16. Live abroad
17. Be luxurious
18. Be a shmuck
19. Go on a cruise ship
20. Live in Italy
21. Be a maid of honor
22. Age into a really badass old lady
23. Learn “You don’t need to speak English, you just need to know the language of love” in every language
24. Fall in love
25. Go to grad school
26. Finish Bucket List
2. Go to an Irish pub and drink Guinness
3. Get a tattoo
4. See The Bucket List
5. Get published
6. Play Aunt Tanya in Mamma Mia
7. Play Aunt Eller in Oklahoma (again)
8. Shave my head
9. Get married
10. Get scuba certified
11. Learn American Sign Language
12. Learn how to ride a motorcycle
13. Go to Brazil and party with Brazilians
14. Travel throughout Greece
15. Visit Australia and New Zealand
16. Live abroad
17. Be luxurious
18. Be a shmuck
19. Go on a cruise ship
20. Live in Italy
21. Be a maid of honor
22. Age into a really badass old lady
23. Learn “You don’t need to speak English, you just need to know the language of love” in every language
24. Fall in love
25. Go to grad school
26. Finish Bucket List
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Glass Windows
I want a house with glass windows
And white walls
Clean white ceilings and floors
Everything white
And glass windows
On a hill with no neighbors
On a hill surrounded by meadows
Wet green growing meadows
So I can look out my glass windows
From my white house
Out at my wet green growing meadows
My clean glass windows
Single or double pain
It doesn't matter as long as there are big white window frames around the glass windows
Windows I can see my reflection in
And see the wet green growing grass
My white walled house has no one in it
Just me
No one in my white floored and white ceilinged house
Just me and the sounds of my feet on the white floors
White floors
White floors and white ceilings
White floors that shine
Clean white floors
White floors that have never seen
Never seen, those white floors,
The dirt of the world
The dirty dirty world
Full of dirt and mud and blood
And evil people
They are clean, protected by my wet green growing meadows
But No grass stains
To sully my white house
Only wet Green growing meadows to look at
From my clean white house with it's clean glass windows
Maybe the windows are bullet proof
But no one comes to test their strength
No one but me looks at the wet green growing growing green grass greener grass wet growing grass meadows
No one in this white walled house but me
No one to trample on my wet grass or my white floors
Look up at my white ceiling
No one up there
Just a roof
A white ceiling that leads to the roof
The glass windows have eyes
I look into them and they are mine
My eyes like glass reflected on the glass
Staring quietly out
Out out out
Out at the world, not the world
Just part of it
But all I see is the wet green growing growing growing up around me
No neighbors
No visitors
I look out at the world and all I see is green wet wet green growing wet green growing meadow
So my eyes stare back at me
From the reflective glass windows
They know more
More more
More than the silent ceiling that leads to the roof
They know more than the clean floors
The walls know less too
Less then those glassy eyes in the glass windows
They maybe bullet proof windows
No one tests their strength
Double or single
Single
Single alone
Alone in the white house
How can you stare out at the world if you only see wet green growing?
I want to be wet green growing
Out in the world but not the world
Wet green growing
But i don't feel wet
I feel dry in my white house
Dry like a desert
A dry white sand desert
My dry sand fills the white house
My poor sweet clean house
Covered in my sand
Not wet green growing
Green like a young girl
Green like the apple she bit
White like snow
Paler where she lay
White like snow am I
But not green like her apple
Pale in my pale house
But not green and not waiting
Not wet green growing
Not growing
Not here
No not growing
Stunted
My eyes know to much
And their reflection stares
They see what I do not out in the world
Not the whole world
Just the wet green growing
I want a house with glass windows
And white walls
Clean white ceilings and floors
Everything white
And glass windows
Maybe theyre bullet proof and maybe they're not
It doesn't matter
Because there's no one to test their strength
No one in my white walled white floored white ceilinged house with the single pained windows but me
And white walls
Clean white ceilings and floors
Everything white
And glass windows
On a hill with no neighbors
On a hill surrounded by meadows
Wet green growing meadows
So I can look out my glass windows
From my white house
Out at my wet green growing meadows
My clean glass windows
Single or double pain
It doesn't matter as long as there are big white window frames around the glass windows
Windows I can see my reflection in
And see the wet green growing grass
My white walled house has no one in it
Just me
No one in my white floored and white ceilinged house
Just me and the sounds of my feet on the white floors
White floors
White floors and white ceilings
White floors that shine
Clean white floors
White floors that have never seen
Never seen, those white floors,
The dirt of the world
The dirty dirty world
Full of dirt and mud and blood
And evil people
They are clean, protected by my wet green growing meadows
But No grass stains
To sully my white house
Only wet Green growing meadows to look at
From my clean white house with it's clean glass windows
Maybe the windows are bullet proof
But no one comes to test their strength
No one but me looks at the wet green growing growing green grass greener grass wet growing grass meadows
No one in this white walled house but me
No one to trample on my wet grass or my white floors
Look up at my white ceiling
No one up there
Just a roof
A white ceiling that leads to the roof
The glass windows have eyes
I look into them and they are mine
My eyes like glass reflected on the glass
Staring quietly out
Out out out
Out at the world, not the world
Just part of it
But all I see is the wet green growing growing growing up around me
No neighbors
No visitors
I look out at the world and all I see is green wet wet green growing wet green growing meadow
So my eyes stare back at me
From the reflective glass windows
They know more
More more
More than the silent ceiling that leads to the roof
They know more than the clean floors
The walls know less too
Less then those glassy eyes in the glass windows
They maybe bullet proof windows
No one tests their strength
Double or single
Single
Single alone
Alone in the white house
How can you stare out at the world if you only see wet green growing?
I want to be wet green growing
Out in the world but not the world
Wet green growing
But i don't feel wet
I feel dry in my white house
Dry like a desert
A dry white sand desert
My dry sand fills the white house
My poor sweet clean house
Covered in my sand
Not wet green growing
Green like a young girl
Green like the apple she bit
White like snow
Paler where she lay
White like snow am I
But not green like her apple
Pale in my pale house
But not green and not waiting
Not wet green growing
Not growing
Not here
No not growing
Stunted
My eyes know to much
And their reflection stares
They see what I do not out in the world
Not the whole world
Just the wet green growing
I want a house with glass windows
And white walls
Clean white ceilings and floors
Everything white
And glass windows
Maybe theyre bullet proof and maybe they're not
It doesn't matter
Because there's no one to test their strength
No one in my white walled white floored white ceilinged house with the single pained windows but me
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The Shortest Poems You'll Ever Read
"Four Little Girls"
We don't remember
Not because we can't
But because we won't
"Cafeteria Revelation"
I feel most existential when I eat at the cafeteria
This isn't real food
What happened to we are what we eat?
"The Fallen"
The farthest to fall
When the fallen have fell so far
The first to fail
When failing never seemed so folly
"The Land of Love"
The last to land
Finding a lost land
The Land of Lost Love
Lingering to the last
"Believe"
Bone tired
Bones breaking
Broken and tired
Bent and bleeding
And still believing
"The Fire in Passion"
After-fire ashes
Flaking like snow but hot
Hot and Heavy
But lacking heated Passion
"Words of the World"
You don't need the meaning of the word
The world is a word
Words make up the world
Would the wordy world could
"Yesteryear"
Gone are the days of yesteryear
Gone they have always been
Gone with the wind
Wind like water wash away
"Open-Minded"
Open your mind
Maybe your brain with fall out
And leave room for your mind
Reason never came so quickly
We don't remember
Not because we can't
But because we won't
"Cafeteria Revelation"
I feel most existential when I eat at the cafeteria
This isn't real food
What happened to we are what we eat?
"The Fallen"
The farthest to fall
When the fallen have fell so far
The first to fail
When failing never seemed so folly
"The Land of Love"
The last to land
Finding a lost land
The Land of Lost Love
Lingering to the last
"Believe"
Bone tired
Bones breaking
Broken and tired
Bent and bleeding
And still believing
"The Fire in Passion"
After-fire ashes
Flaking like snow but hot
Hot and Heavy
But lacking heated Passion
"Words of the World"
You don't need the meaning of the word
The world is a word
Words make up the world
Would the wordy world could
"Yesteryear"
Gone are the days of yesteryear
Gone they have always been
Gone with the wind
Wind like water wash away
"Open-Minded"
Open your mind
Maybe your brain with fall out
And leave room for your mind
Reason never came so quickly
You Don't Need to Speak English
So I decided that if I cannot be fluent in any language, I should at least learn a little bit of as many languages as possible. I pondered about what kinds of things I needed to learn. Then it hit me-- there is only one thing you need to know in EVERY language.
"You don't need to speak English, you just need the language of love."
Armenian:
Karik’ ch’i lini khosel angleren, parzapes anhrazhesht e lezvi siro
Chinese:
Nǐ bù xūyào shuō yīngyǔ, nǐ zhǐ xūyào ài de yǔyán
French:
Vous n'avez pas besoin de parler anglais, il vous suffit de la langue de l'amour
German:
Sie brauchen nicht Englisch zu sprechen, man muss nur die Sprache der Liebe
Greek:
Den chreiázetai na milí̱so̱ angliká, chreiázeste móno ti̱ gló̱ssa ti̱s agápi̱s
Irish:
Ní gá duit a labhairt Béarla, is gá duit ach an teanga an ghrá
Italian:
Non c'è bisogno di parlare inglese, è sufficiente il linguaggio dell'amore
Japanese:
Anata ga eigo o hanasu hitsuyō wa nai, anata dake no ai no gengo o hitsuyō to suru
Korean:
yeong-eo hal jul pil-yo eobs-eo, dangsin-eun danji salang-ui eon-eoga pil-yo
Latin (for good measure):
Non est dicendum Anglorum vos iustus postulo lingua amoris
Portuguese:
Você não precisa falar Inglês, você só precisa a linguagem do amor
Russian:
Vam ne nuzhno govoritʹ po-angliĭski, vam prosto nuzhno yazyk lyubvi
Spanish:
No es necesario hablar Inglés, sólo tiene el lenguaje del amor
Now go forth, an impress all your hot foreign friends!
"You don't need to speak English, you just need the language of love."
Armenian:
Karik’ ch’i lini khosel angleren, parzapes anhrazhesht e lezvi siro
Chinese:
Nǐ bù xūyào shuō yīngyǔ, nǐ zhǐ xūyào ài de yǔyán
French:
Vous n'avez pas besoin de parler anglais, il vous suffit de la langue de l'amour
German:
Sie brauchen nicht Englisch zu sprechen, man muss nur die Sprache der Liebe
Greek:
Den chreiázetai na milí̱so̱ angliká, chreiázeste móno ti̱ gló̱ssa ti̱s agápi̱s
Irish:
Ní gá duit a labhairt Béarla, is gá duit ach an teanga an ghrá
Italian:
Non c'è bisogno di parlare inglese, è sufficiente il linguaggio dell'amore
Japanese:
Anata ga eigo o hanasu hitsuyō wa nai, anata dake no ai no gengo o hitsuyō to suru
Korean:
yeong-eo hal jul pil-yo eobs-eo, dangsin-eun danji salang-ui eon-eoga pil-yo
Latin (for good measure):
Non est dicendum Anglorum vos iustus postulo lingua amoris
Portuguese:
Você não precisa falar Inglês, você só precisa a linguagem do amor
Russian:
Vam ne nuzhno govoritʹ po-angliĭski, vam prosto nuzhno yazyk lyubvi
Spanish:
No es necesario hablar Inglés, sólo tiene el lenguaje del amor
Now go forth, an impress all your hot foreign friends!
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