HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I am now 25 years old. I feel... happier than I did yesterday when I was 24! Perhaps there is something to this aging thing. :)

And Katie's right, I think this comic is fantastic.

Cultivation

I'm experiencing that feeling. That feeling of dread and doom and fear, where each new event of the day seems unbearably full of chances to fail.

It goes right down the middle of me, and then runs around to all the tips of my body like static. Pins and needles.

I'm looking for something to redirect my attention and my feelings, but not in the frantic or lethargic way of most procrastination. I've been into lists lately, so here then is a list of the beautiful things in my day thus far:

*Sunlight and brilliant blue sky
*I think my professor for Hinduism and the Epics is more genuinely and passionately in love with what she studies and teaches than anybody I have ever met, ever.
*She also has a beautiful wrap-thing... like a shawl, but with sleeves, very thin and see through and flowy, in a sort of deep pink.
*While I was sitting outside to eat my lunch, my TF came by just as I had gotten some bleu cheese dressing on my mouth and was realizing I had no napkins, and he was like, "Do you need napkins?" because he had grabbed extras.
*Meeting a really exciting person who LOVES William Finn and is coming to my birthday party.
*A hot shower.
*A moment in writing my response when it really clicked in and took off, all at once.
*Having the thought "fuck everyone; I don't have time," and then thinking about the implications of that statement and laughing to myself.
*Saying no.
*These ridiculous little things serving as zipper pulls on my purse, which are eggs and circus people and have two alternate faces all at the same time! Really!
*The knowledge that people (you, at this time) will come by and read my list.

Creating the Survey I Want to Take

Book Word Association Game:

Just what it sounds like. Put down the first book or work of literature that comes to mind with whatever word is given. Feel free, though not obligated, to explain. I have written my answers in cream, so you can reply without influence if you so desire, and then highlight to see what I said.

Green: O Beautiful by Jesse Green

Red: The First Man in Rome by Colleen McCullough

Spring: "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot (poem)

Death: On a Pale Horse by Piers Anthony

Wings: Skellig by David Almond

Maze: If on a Winter's Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino

Crowbar: ...All I can think of is Clue. Which is not a book. How about "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe (poem)
Hyacinth: When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed by Walt Whitman (poem)

Astronomical: A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

Blessed: Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson

Birth: Still Life by A.S. Byatt

Fate: The Mahabharata, especially the Book of the Assembly Hall and the Battle Books

Mumble: The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

Chimera: Angels in America: Millennium Approaches by Tony Kushner (play)

Terror: The Haunting at Hill House by Shirley Jackson

Bear: The Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving

Bunny: The Bunny Book by Richard Scarry

Lion: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

Song: Cattail Moon by Jean Thesman

Robin: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Blue: Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry

Pink: The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson

Sky: Enchantress from the Stars by Sylvia Louise Engdahl

Underneath: A Solitary Blue by Cynthia Voight

Volcanic: Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden

Remnant: Winter of Fire by Sheryl Jordan

Fury: When Rabbit Howls by Truddi Chase

Undulate: Many Waters by Madeleine L'Engle

Dodo: The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Nose: Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery

Assent: Servant of the Bones by Anne Rice

Jumping: "Paul's Case" by Willa Cather (story)

Skate: Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott

Gold: The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes by Marjorie Flack and Dubose Hayward

Monster: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Elephant: The Night Listener by Armistead Maupin

Magic: Half Magic by Edward Eager

Statue: Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pierce

Dervish: House of Stairs by William Sleator

Singularity: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Food: Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery

Adoration: Sonnet 74: "Batter my heart, three personed God" by John Donne

Pleasant: The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew by Margaret Sidney

Pogo stick: The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

Popcorn: Cinema Nirvana by Dean Sluyter

Umbrella: Down Came the Rain by Brooke Shields

Wow, what a strange and random list! Including at least one book I know I've never read, and a number of others I haven't finished... Anyway, I hope you have fun with this! Sorry about "crowbar."

Calling in the Night

Since I last dropped in, my Rumiesque guest house self has entertained many garden variety fears and anxieties, nasty cramps, and recursive thought loops, but also a very beautiful moment of understanding.

The latter is due to a sort of coming together of insights offered by Krsna, Charlotte, Roz's mix cd, and Christ crucified.

Holy Week, here I am. In the midst of the teeth-grinding what comes next day to day terror.

I should sleep. Goodnight.

Twenty-Four Things I Have Experienced in the Past Twenty-Four Hours

I have...

1. talked theology until 3 AM
2. seen a visual representation of Krsna as ultimate transcendent divinity
3. skinned my knee
4. walked in stocking feet on the wet, cold ground chanting "walk walk walk" to keep myself going
5. had a moment of complete understanding and connection with what my professor was saying
6. heard a description of what it was like to be in Iraq with a rocket zooming overhead from a classmate sitting next to me, directed only to me
7. received an adorable stuffed chick dressed in bunny ears that chirps when you press its middle
8. been invited to two parties
9. eaten soup
10. been walked in on in the bathroom
11. thrown my books on the floor both to get them out of my hands and to hear them bang
12. not attended a rehearsal I was (somewhat surprisingly) looking forward to
13. counted out almost my last non-penny, non-foreign change for a bag of m&ms and a bottle of ginger ale
14. worn a new skirt for the first time
15. given a present
16. fallen asleep while reading the Gospel of John
17. made my bed
18. mentally compared the discourse of a divine being to the way I try to introduce bizarre statements to my friends, and then attempted to explain this out loud
19. forgotten (again) to take my sleeping bag up from the dryer
20. touched a very fuzzy sweater
21. seen Rachel for the first time in over a week
22. photocopied almost 100 pages
23. Learned that Thessalonians come from Thessalonica.
24. Been almost too tired to finish my list.

Spam Poetics and Prophecy?

Today, they got me with an email from "Katrina," subject line, "tell me again." Since I'd just been to a meeting about the Gulf Coast trip I'm going on in two weeks to do some relief work connected to Katrina, I opened it.

It was erectile drugs again.

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It's kind of beautiful! I love the dialogue. "Whether purring soft I physical am in my senses or not." I think maybe I should start interpreting bizarre Spam emails, or proposing them as some kind of special code.

Some Books + How to Seduce Me With Spam

Today I got an email from "Prodigal G. Wrongheadedness." And I'm looking at it thinking, "Right, that's gonna get me to open the email." But of course... it did. I wasn't expecting much, but sometimes I just can't resist the charmingly ridiculous names. It was an advertisement for some sort of erectile drug. Which... not to say that there's no place for that kind of drug, but I do not think that the place it currently occupies is ideal, to put it mildly. Or, at any rate, it highlights the gross inequities of the pharmaceutical system. So, perhaps Prodigal G. Wrongheadedness is not the wrong name...

Jesus H. Christ, but I can't see anything without analyzing it anymore, can I?

I intended to come on in here and let you all know what fine things I've been reading lately:

*Paradiso by Dante Alighieri
**Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
**In the Theater of Consciousness: The Workspace of the Mind by Bernard J. Baars
The Country Parson by George Herbert
*The Temple by George Herbert
*The Book of Revelations
The First Letter to the Thessalonians
The Second Letter to the Thessalonians
*The Second Letter of Peter
**The Gospel of Mark (as implied in the previous post about it)

I think there might be a couple more, but I'll fill those in as I remember them.

Not Quite Paradise

Before going to bed last night (which was weird enough anyway, since I had a sudden mild illness that has now disappeared, happily), I read a few pages of Toni Morrison's Paradise, which I have to read and write a response paper on for class next week. I find that reading novels before bed is way more successful than reading books about say, brain chemistry, or legal definitions of race.

I have read Paradise before, but, probably because we were going through all of Morrison's novels at breakneck speed, I remember almost nothing about it. The first few pages, in which women at a convent (but not nuns, I don't think) were being pursued and shot by men, reminded me a little. And then I fell asleep.

After a brief dream in which I went back to my old high school for a class with all my old classmates, I segued into a dream that was explicitly about the book. That is, in my dream, I was re-reading the book as I had been in real life, but my re-reading took the form of explicitly experiencing the things in the book, with a sort of fuzzy consciousness reminding me that I knew what would happen and that it will be all right.

In my dream, I was simultaneously a little girl and a grown woman caring for the little girl, and most of the time we were black. I remember looking at my skin with some fascination. But I think other times we might have briefly been white, almost like my brain forgot to make the switch. Anyway, there was this man coming after us, also mostly black, and he had seen a flyer that offered a reward if you killed women and children that were unaccompanied by men. He was someone we knew, but the woman knew he was going to try to kill them, and the little girl didn't. So the woman had to quiet the little girl and get her to hide. In my memory of the book, I had an image of the man sort of beating the top of a tree with a baseball bat while the woman and the girl hid below. This translated into us hiding in a sort of wooden structure below the floor of the the house we were in, and hearing the man crashing around with his bat. I think he was drunk, too. It was terrifying.

Then my perspective switched and I was outside, looking at the house and the man, although part of my consciousness was still with the girl and the woman. And I saw in an upper window that there was a doll house, and that the woman had convinced the girl to reach up through the floor of the doll house and manipulate the dolls inside, so the man would think we were playing there and come attack it. And I was shocked by this plan, even though I knew it had to work. The man saw the dolls moving and started to head for that part of the house. I knew he was going to smash up the doll house, but I didn't know how we were going to escape after that. I had images of us crawling out the bottom of the house somehow while he was occupied on top, but it was just such a terrifying idea, that we would have to lie there while he broke everything around us, that I guess I couldn't stay in it anymore, because I woke up.

Bizarre and scary, and I will be somewhat curious to see what it has to do with Paradise in reality. Hopefully not too much, but the novel already seems chilling and bleak.

Editor's Note

I got excited about posting links to other people's blogs on my blog, since it seems to be all the rage these days, and also will mean I can navigate conveniently from my own blog, instead of going all the way to Rachel's. ;) BUT... maybe your blog is on my list and you don't want all my random visitors wandering over to your private meanderings. Or, maybe you really are looking to dramatically increase the traffic to your blog, but somehow I have neglected to include you.

If you want to either be taken off the list or added to it, please leave me a comment, and I will comply with your desires. Unless they are unreasonable or unrelated to this matter, in which case I make no promises.

I'm Not Sure if This Dream was Sexy or Sad...

So, I dreamed that I was a male servant in this well-to-do household in some unspecified older-seeming time... I want to say maybe Victorian or just-post-Victorian, which time might also have a name, but I don't know it. I also think it's interesting that it seems like English queens are more likely to have time periods named after them than English kings. And be sort of fetishized and venerated in general. Not that kings don't/aren't, but... well, this has nothing to do with my dream.

Even though this household just seemed like an ordinary very wealthy household, as opposed to a palace or something, I called the youngest son of the family, and perhaps the older one as well, prince. I'm not sure about the older one. I also feel like this was a real title and not something I concocted out of affection, but I'm a little unclear.

You see, I was in love with the younger prince (who was of an age where this was appropriate, or at least not creepy), and I hated the older prince (huh, I guess he was a prince) because he tended to humiliate his brother and perhaps even manipulated him sexually, I'm not positive. Though I think in the dream I was sure this was going on. So I tried to do what I could to make life easier for the younger prince, and generally pined and watched him mature and kind of shake off the control of his older brother at last.

Then one day he came to my room (I think it was my room, though the bed seemed rather big and nice for a servant's bed), and he was sitting on my bed and talking to me, and I was just sort of smoldering with desire for him, and then he suddenly did initiate some kind of sexual contact. I'm not sure if he kissed me or what. It was the sort of thing where it moved so quickly from my desires to my reality in a way I didn't think was possible, so it was hard to pinpoint the initial details exactly. And he lay me down on the bed and lay over me... and this was funny, because I actually remember the part of my brain that still knew I was not a male servant about to have sex with another man trying to figure out if the exact position we were in was appropriate for sex between men. And then deciding that in any case it would be very pleasurable (as my male servant self awareness was indicating) and that we could move around later if necessary.

Anyway, that was probably more detail than you wanted, especially those of you dropping in from other countries, but we commenced this sexual relationship, and after that I was lying there next to him and he was sort of holding me from behind, and I said, "I love you, but you don't (or can't, I'm not sure which I said) love me." I remember saying this very calmly, because I guess I wanted to get it out of the way and not make a scene, and I wanted to say it myself so I didn't have to hear him saying it. And of course part of me was hoping that he would contradict me instead of agreeing, but he sort of kept me very close in his arms and put his cheek against my shoulder and nodded, so that I could feel it but not see it. And then I think we had sex again.

This relationship continued for some time, and although I thought I was happy about it, I think I was actually getting more and more upset about the not being loved thing, but I didn't want to give up sleeping with him, so I didn't know what to do. And I still had so much desire for him. But at some point when we were in bed together I just started crying, and he was upset/sympathetic in this way that reminded me that I had always been the one to take care of him emotionally, and in a sense I ended up doing that again, even though he was trying to be comforting to me. And of course the idea that he was comforting me because he couldn't love me was not pleasant, either. So at that point I think I started to get fairly depressed, because I couldn't seem to end the relationship or stop having feelings for him, but there was always the reminder of his superior status and the fact that I didn't mean to him what he meant to me, and probably never would. And I managed to go about my duties in the household normally, but fairly often when we were together I would quietly fall apart.

Wow, this dream is sounding more maudlin as I write it out... but anyway, finally, he came to tell me he was in love with someone else, who I think was also a man, like maybe some guy he was training with in the army (not sure when the army came into it) or something, and maybe also that he was going to have to get married soon. But he was very excited and happy, even though he was trying to break this to me gently, and his youthful exuberance was impossible to conceal, as well as the fact that he moved so quickly from one thing to the next. It was like he had come to thank me for being a part of his life, and his sexual development, or whatever, and move on. And this was just so horrible that I really lost it, even though I hadn't been rationally expecting anything else. But I started yelling at him, and crying, and I was really bothered at the same time by the fact that I was getting so out of control, but I was also somewhat pleased to actually confront him instead of just trying to suffer as quietly as possible under his well-intended horribleness. I think he was very surprised, and maybe started to yell back, but it was around then that I woke up.

Hmm. Now that dream just sounds bizarre, but it was very compelling at the time. I hope you enjoyed reading about it.

There is No Earthly Reason Why I'm Not Asleep Right Now

10 out of 10! I knew there was a point to all that reading...

http://www.slangcity.com/quiz/vintage_sex_slang_quiz.htm

In less pleasant news, I have again managed to split my phone in half, this time by falling on my face, outside, in very cold weather.

The curse lives on. Call my apartment phone if you want me. And now that you've seen my score on the vintage sex slang quiz, I'm expecting a lot of calls.

Stupid Morning

I'm having an out-of-proportion "Oh no, I can't handle my life" moment. I set my alarm wrong and woke nearly a quarter into my first class, which is only once a week and for which I had stayed up quite late reading... and so I got dressed really quickly, and then hesitated about whether it was rude to go so late, and then remembered I only have a dollar in cash, which is not enough to buy lunch, and I only have an hour between classes, so I can't really come home or go anywhere to get cash. So I guess I'm staying to do my reading for the next class and eat.

I feel so incompetent, and it's frustrating because I know that in reality, none of this is actually a big deal.

In other, much more important news, my grandma is doing pretty well, and is probably going home soon, if she hasn't already. Thanks for your messages, etc.

Get Well, Grandma

I found out today that my Grandma had a mini-stroke. She's doing much better now, apparently, but it really scared her and everybody else. Not much to say about it right now, but I just wanted to solicit some thoughts and prayers for her and my family, if you would be so kind.

Random people from other continents, that goes double for you.

I'm gonna give her a call tomorrow... I hope everything is still on an up-swing. I love you, Grandma.

Tart and Startling and Strange

Who am I talking about? Jesus, in the Gospel of Mark. I read it today for Intro to New Testament, and it was so bizarre and interesting... very quick, action-packed, this happened then this happened in style, and Jesus was sort of... brisk and unpredictable and hard to read, but a very compelling presence, at least to me. I am so curious about what the experience of reading this would be if you had no background in the story, and also concretely realizing how much I know the Gospel stories in the chunks they are told in in church, and how little I know the actual Gospels straight through.

I'm also a little confused about all the methods of New Testament criticism. Some of them seem kind of problematic, but maybe I just don't completely comprehend them yet.

Bracing, that's another good word for Jesus-of-Mark. Has anybody else read it? What are your thoughts?

One More Obsessive Post About the Map

So, I noticed that suddenly I was getting only one visitor, ever, listed on my map, and that visitor was clearly me. Then I realized that was because my map was now on another page, and, while I may have dedicated readers, that dedication does not extend to reading everything I have ever written in the blog every day. So, I decided to put the map, or, to be perfectly accurate, a new map, down at the bottom of my blog. See? There it is. Now you can breathe easily... or panic as your cover is blown... because your visits will be duly recorded.

What the Hell?

So, I finally finished putting labels on all my posts, and when I went to view my blog after, my map had exploded! Suddenly I have had visitors from more than 20 places, including Argentina, Canada, Spain, New Mexico, Puerto Rico, and three separate places in China.

Why? Why in the last hour or so? Who are you? Again, I assume it's just some random marketing thing, but... weird.

Oh Sick, Sick

Silly, silly cold. Please go away. I'll sacrifice my classes to you if you give me the weekend. And can we start the weekend on Thursday? What do you say?

A Little Bundle of Books

It's kind of sad, because lately I read so many parts of books, but it seems wrong to count those. So, the complete books I have read recently:


*The Heart of Whiteness by Robert Jensen
*The First R: How Children Learn Race and Racism by Debra Van Ausdale and Joe R. Feagin
The Book of Jude (books of the Bible count, right? I think they should.)
The Second Letter of Peter (I wish I could recommend this one, since I love Peter so much, but at least he didn't really write it. Not that it was awful, it just wasn't that compelling.)

My Valentine, In Fact, Is In All Ways Better Than The Aforementioned.

I was taught, never brag or shout,
still it's hot, just like how you read about,
and also caring, and never too uncouth,
that's the simple truth.

Can you tell, I have been revised?
It's so swell, dammit, even I'm surprised.
We laugh, we fumble, we take it day by day...
What more can I say?

--William Finn


Happy Valentine's Day, darling.

George W. Bush is Not My Valentine

He talks to us as though we are five, and about people in other countries as though they are infants. Unfortunately, he also handles incredibly dangerous situations as though he is a slightly older playground vigilante fighting to be king of the hill.

In what universe are people going to listen when we say "we can have nuclear weapons, but not you, because we know best and we say so"?

Good Lord, this money restriction thing is going to be a problem.

He does look tired, and gets so irate so easily. He's like someone being called onto the carpet and grasping at defensive straws. His arguments do not make sense, but he presents them as though to disagree is a basic failure in intelligence and understanding. Wow, he's totally going off. Do presidents usually get so snippy?

I wish I understood more about this Iran thing. Does anyone have any insight into the situation there beyond what I am hearing in this conference?