To Those About To Write . . .

This post is for those who are about to embark on this year's National Novel Writing Month. I salute all of you and wish you luck. This poem by Rumi I hope will suitably inspire us . . .

Fifty thousand words by November 30th? No problem!

Story Water

By Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

A story is like water

that you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire

and your skin. It lets them meet,

and it cleans you!

Very few can sit down

in the middle of the fire itself

like a salamander or Abraham.

we need intermediaries.

A feeling of fullness comes,

but it usually takes some bread

to bring it.

Beauty surrounds us,

but usually we need to be walking

in a garden to know it.

The body itself is a screen

to shield and partly reveal

the light that’s blazing

inside your presence.

Water, stories, the body,

all the things we do, are mediums

that hide and show what’s hidden.

Study them,

and enjoy this being washed

with a secret we sometimes know,

and then not.

Spending Saturday with Napoleon & Warhol

Mr. Random decided NOT to do the Marine Corps Marathon this year after all, and is going to definitely do it next year. He did go pick up his shirt and all, but on Friday night he was still having serious doubts, and felt like he would disappoint everyone if he didn’t do it. I reminded him that his well-being was much more important to me, and I didn’t want to get a call saying he had collapsed, just so he could make other people happy. He was depressed about it for a while, but he knows that he made the right decision – he wasn’t able to train as hard this year, and his overcompensating gave him back spasms. Besides, he’s already done four of them! That’s four more than 99 percent of the planet does . . . he should be proud of what he has accomplished so far, and I am certain that he will be ready for the race next year . . . he’s so competitive that he won’t want to miss another one.

On Saturday, Mr. Random just did some light running and puttered around the condo. On Sunday, he played soccer and actually scored a goal, so he was pretty pleased that even if he didn’t do the marathon, that he was able to score a goal for his team that day.

However, since it had been planned that Saturday was going to be Mr. Random’s “rest and relaxation” day, I had planned to be out doing stuff and not be in the way. So I spent my Saturday doing one of my favorite things . . . going to museums!

To begin my fabulous Saturday, I met my friends J & R at their house, and from there we went to the National Geographic building, where on the first floor is an extensive exhibit on Napoleon, with many artifacts from his life and the accompanying time period. (http://www.nationalgeographic.com/museum/exhibitions/napoleon.html) A very impressive show, and if you are in the DC area any time soon, I highly suggest that you go . . . like many exhibits in DC, admission is free. J was most impressed by seeing the large hat that Napoleon actually wore, and also that a painting the exhibit showcased of Napoleon on a horse was actually smaller in real life than thought. My favorite parts? I don’t know, maybe seeing the schoolbooks that young Napoleon scribbled margin notes in? Seeing the velvet portfolio that held Napoleon and Josephine’s annulment papers? Seeing his actual military camp bed set up, along with the box that it was carried around in? Tallyrand’s red velvet prayer chair? The plaid “do-rag” that N wore on St. Helena, because of the heat? The snuff box that he liked to fiddle around with when talking? The many little details that make up a life were all around, and I was in awe of each and every one of them.

After leaving National Geographic, we went to lunch and then decided that since it was still early, we could get in another museum . . . so we looked in the handy-dandy City paper and saw that there was an Andy Warhol exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art. http://www.corcoran.org/exhibitions/Warhol_index.asp) Off we went! The exhibit was fantastic, although not quite as extensive as I had hoped – I am sure that the Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh must be amazing, since most of the DC exhibit was on loan from there. I was especially drawn to his early and late graphite sketches, and was very intrigued by his 4 minute “screen test” films. The most disturbing (and effective, I guess) part of the exhibit was a room filled with his series of works on guns, knives and crosses. There was nothing gross or disgusting about the pictures, they were just silk screens of the pictures of the objects themselves, but something about the compositions of the pictures and the colors, just got to me . . . and stayed with me. This is another exhibit I highly recommend folks seeing if in the area. The Corcoran is not free, but charges $8 admission – very worth it, though!

So ended a wonderful afternoon with my friends! I was exhausted when I got home, and didn’t go to the Halloween party after all, but I was fine with that.

For my birthday, my friend J gave me a book of Margaret Bourke-White’s early photography from the years 1927-1936. It was the accompanying book for an exhibit I saw at the Phillips Collection in 2003, and at the time I had sorely wished that I had purchased the book for it. Does my friend know me or what?

Maureen Dowd’s piece in Sunday’s NYT Magazine just left me speechless – not in a good way, either. Whenever the NYT does a lifestyle piece, you just know that whatever it is only applies to the rarified circles of whoever the author is. However, their front page series on Class Matters a few months ago was quite top notch . . . and I found this week’s magazine article on pensions intriguing, if incomplete . . .

I found today’s poem in The New Yorker a while ago . . .

Everything
By Wislawa Szymborska
(translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baraczak and Clare Cavanaugh)

Everything —
a bumptious, stuck-up word.
It should be written in quotes.
It pretends to miss nothing,
to gather, hold, contain, and have.
While all the while it’s just
a shred of a gale.

That Blog in Northern Virginia

Last night, I added a lot more blog links and my 2005 National Novel Writing Month sticker. Gee, this is actually starting to look like a serious blog!

From the links you can see a lot of my random interests, a very mixed bag. Now that I have finally linked to the academic blogs that I lurk at often, I’m starting to feel slightly self-conscious about my writing. I hope the professors among them don’t take offense at my horrid prose. I am a work in progress and I am trying to get better at my writing . . . thus the reason for the blog.

In my real life, people think I am a very good editor/proofreader – I am constantly asked at work to edit other departments’ documents, and at home, all of my friends send me their cover letters and resumes to look at with a critical eye. I love making things sound better or more readable. I try to make people get to the point of what they are actually trying to say, and then have them put that down on the page. Since I have been teaching ESL, I have become so much more aware of the importance of clear, readable writing and I try to encourage within our organization to be mindful of literacy levels when they create information for the public.

As for MY writing . . . well, do as I say, not as I do. Besides, this blog is supposed to hold my random thoughts . . . if I took the time to actually edit it for clarity and grammar, you’d never see a word from me . . .

For my Trump Apprentice impressions, check out today’s Gypsy Thoughts for my comments on last night’s show . . .

This morning I found another interesting blog – A Photojournalist’s Story (http://danielpepper.com/blog/) . It seems that he just started it this month, and he is a photographer based in Lebanon at the moment. It is so interesting to hear from someone actually on the ground in the Middle East . . . I look forward to following more of his writings . . .

A local baker has a show on the Food Network! I haven’t seen it yet, but it seems that on the DCist Website at least, people aren’t quite feeling the love for Cakelove bakery or the baker himself. Has anyone seen the show or eaten at Cakelove?
(http://www.dcist.com/archives/2005/10/27/sugar_rush_needs_more_time_in_the_oven.php#comments) . . .

Also in food-related news, the Del Ray Dreamery is changing its name! Nasty corporate overseers of some other ice cream company were suing the tiny local shop for using the name "Dreamery," so from now on the shop will be known as "That Custard Shop in Del Ray." (http://www.delraydreamery.com/default.asp) I'm guessing that the Website name will change soon, but take a gander at the "Custard Cam" . . . I love that place and so you might see the back of my head there some weekend if you look carefully . . . If you are ever in Del Ray, do visit the shop - their frozen treats are scrumptious!

I’m getting very excited about doing National Novel Writing Month. My longer blog posts are over 500 words, and those posts are assembled over the course of a day. I think that if I devote an hour or two in the evening on weeknights to writing, I should be well on my way to 50,000 words over the course of the month . . . of course, I could be totally wrong about that, but I’m certainly going to try . . .

I’m looking forward to the weekend . . . I’m going to be out during the day on Saturday with my friend, J, and then I have a Halloween party that night. I think I’m going as a soccer player . . . basically just wearing Mr. Random’s soccer gear – cheap costume! Sunday is the Marine Corps Marathon, so I am going to be at the finish line to cheer Mr. Random on . . . he is still wavering, but he seems psyched about doing it, so I think he is going to go through with it. He picked up his shirt and bib this morning – this year, the shirts are purple. Everyone, please send happy vibes his way on Sunday!

The poem that I am going to leave you with this weekend just screams “FALL!” . . . and it should since it has “autumn” in the title.

Song for Autumn
Mary Oliver

In the deep fall
don't you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don't you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don't you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.

Is this thing on?

I'm working on the blog now - you may notice all of the new links - and I'm going to try to attach my snazzy NaNoWriMo logo . . . cause I'm pretty sure I'm going to do it this year! Hope this thing uploads correctly . . .

Thanks, Everyone!

I want to thank everyone for the lovely birthday wishes! Do you know that about 20 people have told me that I can run for President now? :-)

I want to say a happy welcome to all the new folks who have stopped by my meager blog the past few days.

I started to do a longer, more thoughtful post earlier this morning, but I’ve been horribly distracted all day and couldn’t coherently complete my thoughts. I think I am coming down with another cold . . . I just have that exhausted, stuffy, cloudy feeling that usually comes before I get fully sick.

But you will get a poem today from one of my favorite authors, Dorothy Parker - just because . . .

Observation

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again,
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much,
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

Looking Backward, Looking Forward

I am 35 years old today.

I have no idea what this means . . . does it really mean anything?

When you are little, you dream of how you will be when you are older . . . 30 looks so old, much less 35 . . .

Would me at 15 be OK with me at 35?

I had dreams of being a high powered career chick, either working in the halls of Congress, or at an investment bank, or at some publishing company. I also had dreams of being married and having 3 kids by now, being a loving mom who was way cool and took them everywhere . . . museums, parks, different cities and plays and concerts and libraries. The kids would have been sweet and inquisitive and loved to learn and try new things, just like their mom and dad. We’d live in a cool older house, an old Victorian or an arts and crafts bungalow with a nice yard where I’d have a garden and a nice space for us and the kids to play.

Well . . . I am married to a wonderful man whom I adore and who is almost my twin in a lot of ways. We own our tiny condo – no yard, but that’s for the best, I wouldn’t want to spend my weekends weeding anyway – yet. No high powered career, and working at non-profits does not make one rich or even all that comfortable . . . but in some small way, I am glad what I do has a small impact on things. No kids have come yet, and the deliberations still go on in my head and with my husband. I don’t get to see as many cool things as I would like, but I do try. I like having the time to volunteer and try new things occasionally. I like teaching and helping people. I like all of my friends, at least most of the time. I have come to appreciate my family more, even though there is still much to be worked out between us all.

So, would me at 15 be OK with me at 35?

At 15, I was still so timid and lonely and unsure of myself. Actually, that hasn’t much changed . . . and yet it has. If I would go back in time, I would tell me at 15 . . . not to worry so much . . . don’t get so stressed out about school . . . try all of the things you want to try and don’t worry about what your parents might think so much . . . try to have more fun . . . you will make friends who like you for who you really are . . . the future will be all right, just hold on and have faith . . .

I would give my 15 year old self a big hug . . .

And we would both be comforted . . .

And we would both cry . . .

Because the future is still scary and uncertain . . .

Maybe me at 55 could pay us a visit?

Not Written with an Erasable Pen!

When we were out on Saturday night, we stopped at Olsson’s (local book and record store chain) on the way home and I bought what I thought was the new Fiona Apple CD. It was late when we got back, and I was way busy on Sunday, so I didn’t get to open the package until last night. Would you know it was one of those combo DVD/CD things? Which says in teeny-weeny print on the label that it may not work in all CD players? What the heck? And of course it doesn’t work on my CD player and I refuse to sit at my computer at home to listen to this stupid thing. I didn’t think anything of it when I bought it because it was the only kind they had . . . but now I am way annoyed . . . I guess I should return it, but I feel kind of stupid because it does have a warning on the label, even though it was in tiny print . . .

Hope to be updating the sidebar with some new links soon, so you can fully see the breadth of randomness which my brain focuses on . . .

I only saw the last 15 minutes of VH-1’s “I Love the 80’s in 3D” but, darn, those stupid shows always suck me in. I don’t know, I guess seeing stuff from one’s childhood always makes one feel better. Remember erasable pens? They had those on the show, and I remembered instantly how much I hated them . . . remember how you would try to write with them and the ink would be real gloppy and smear all over the place, and when you’d try to erase the ink it would just leave a big stain on the paper . . . ick!

There seems to be eighty things going on at once . . . I must remember to breathe! I am sleeping better at night, thanks to my doctor, but the days are becoming quite overwhelmed with work. I do try to leave work at work, so I can try to fully decompress in the evenings . . . it is hard sometimes, though.

This weekend is the Marine Corps Marathon and Mr. Random is still deciding if he will do it or not. He really wants to . . . and he’s going to pick up his shirt and bib on Friday . . . but he feels really nervous, because he hasn’t trained as hard as he has in the past. I keep telling him that he doesn’t have to finish, but he says he knows that if he starts he will feel compelled to finish. Normally, I would tell him to just try again next year, but I know that if he doesn’t do it, I will hear about it from now until next October on how he SHOULD have run it . . .

I really like the imagery in today's poem . . . hope y’all like it, too:

The Pier Aspiring
Thomas Lux

See if you can see how far out it goes; see? You can't see the end!
I'd take you out there
but it's a six hour walk
and the work redundant: one board laid down after another.
When the sun is high
the boards are hot.
Splinters always pose a problem walking any other way but straight.
What keeps me working on it, driving piles,
hauling timber, what's kept my hand
on the hammer, the barnacle scraper,
what keeps me working through the thirst,
the nights when the waves' tops pound
the pier from beneath, what keeps me glad
for the work, the theory is, despite the ridicule
at the lumberyard, the treks with pails
of nails (my arms
2cm longer each trip), the theory
is this: it's my body's habit,
hand over foot, pay check to pay check,
it's in the grain of my bones,
lunch box to lunch bucket.
It's good to wear an X
on my back, to bend my back to the sky, it's right
to use the hammer and the saw,
it's good to sleep
out there — attached at one distant end
and tomorrow adding to that distance.
The theory
is: It will be a bridge.

Ever Had One of Those Days

I read this post in Making Light today, titled “To The Artist’s Eye Everything is Beautiful” (http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/006922.html#006922)
It talks about the art of assembling models – as in ships and houses and trains. I thought it was very poignant and makes you think a bit about how we really see the world in order to represent it. For example, is tree bark really brown in color?

This weekend, Mr. Random invited some friends of ours to come out to dinner with us on Saturday to help celebrate my upcoming birthday. We send out the e-mail invite a bit late, but figured that whoever could come, could come and we’d be happy with that. A few folks RSVP’d and said that they may be there, so we made plans accordingly.

Here’s the thing . . . Do you have friends that don’t get along with other friends? Or friends who you know from one venue, who don’t necessarily fit in in other venues? Well, that’s what happened on Saturday . . . and when these sorts of folks get together it is kind of awkward. Now I do have “bridge” friends – you know, the kind of folks who get along with everyone and can make fun conversation and get everyone involved and not feel weird. However, these friends weren’t able to show up, and I am lousy at doing the bridge thing, so there was one side of the table . . . and the other side of the table. One couple brought their 14 month old son - which normally I am totally cool with, and he was very well behaved, and I enjoyed making him laugh and smile – but it was a bit distracting and I had a hard time talking to the couple since they were trying to corral the boy and get him to eat. The problem was also that they did not have much to talk about with my friend, J, which made things a bit more awkward. And when another couple came a bit later, it improved things a bit, but it was still a little weird.

Another thing about the dinner is that the couple with the kid left before the check came and left some money with my husband for the check. However, when they check came, it turns out that they had HORRIBLY underpaid for what they ordered. We went to Jaleo, which is a very yummy Spanish Tapas chain in DC, and each little dish of Tapas costs at least 5 bucks a piece. They had ordered about eight dishes – and I do not exaggerate, I counted – including dishes of scallops and salmon and other fancy stuff, and we split 2 pitchers of Sangria. They left only $40, which including tax and tip, even if they got the cheapest stuff on the menu was totally not enough. I felt so bad that everyone had to make up the difference. Well, I know not to invite them next time! I really hate the “money game” anyway . . . the whole splitting up the check and getting the money together because someone always puts in much too little and everyone else has to make up for it because you don’t know exactly who was the one who stiffed us. We should probably do separate checks, but that’s usually a pain for the waiters to keep track of, especially when there’s a large party.

I want to state for the record that I really like kids and enjoy having them come to our events, so I’m not just piling on this couple just because they brought their kid. B was actually the highlight of my evening . . . he had the best laugh, and I could just look at him and he’d give me the BEST smile . . .

Has anyone else had a similar experience with odd sorts of friends or being stiffed atthe end of a dinner? Do share!

Not much time to find a poem today, but does anyone else have a poem to share? Would love to see what other folks are interested in . . .

Sleepy Autumn Day

I was going to watch the rerun of Martha’s Apprentice last night, but I missed the first half hour because I am addicted to HGTV’s “Small Spaces, Big Style.” Anyone else watch this show? The host of the show is this cute guy with ZERO personality, but I do enjoy seeing what people do with their 450 sq ft apartments – especially since our condo is so small . . .

Today has been very drizzly and foggy here in Northern VA, the kind of day you just want to lay down and take a long nap under a big, warm comforter. Then when you wake up, you want a nice bowl of soup with some warm, crusty bread and a good cup of tea. Then you curl up on your comfy couch and read, read, read . . .

But no, . . . instead you’re sitting at a fluorescently lit desk, staring at the glowing screen, sucking on a Twizzler . . . counting down the hours until you can put your vision into practice . . .

I hope everyone is going to have a good weekend . . . I think we all deserve one . . .

This poem just said “Fall” to me – I don’t know why . . .

White Heron Pond
David Baker

Either the cicadas hushed,
or I fell asleep
as they kept on.
But I go on
hearing them

in willows, in wild ancient oaks,
in the slow orbit
of my sleep or waking,
where I lie beside
White Heron Pond.

Wind whirls through the marsh grasses.
And the slender,
glass wings
of ten thousand
insects flare

in the shadows and circulating air,
the throb and ebb
of their song.
Who says poetry must
stick to the theme?

asks Su Shih when he looks again
at the painting
he loves —
branches of
flowering plum.

Burrowing out of
soft ground,
up to the highest limbs,
the cicadas
mate and sing,

then bear their young, who fall
to earth
to nest, asleep,
for seventeen
years.

Over algae and moss
of the pond's
still surface,
over fields of beans
and sweet fescue,

this song wavers and floats —
so Su Shih, after years
migrating
the provinces, a minor
official, turns

into Su Tung-p’o, the poet —
or as now, like
the swirl of stars,
as in my dream
or waking,

over sun-tipped blooms, over new pipes
poking through
rye grasses,
over paved
curbs

running wild into the woods,
the sure, slow
orbit of things
becoming
the next thing.

Finding a New Beat

I was out at an off-site meeting yesterday, so sorry for not posting. There were very good speakers at this event, and I learned a lot about the topic presented, but it was also very discouraging hearing about all of the problems that still exist and are being made worse by policymakers who had pledged to actually try to HELP these people . . . good grief! I can’t say too much more without giving away the nitty gritty of what I do, but man, could I go off . . .

Missed Martha’s Apprentice again last night . . . will just have to catch it on the CNBC rerun tonight, before Trump’s.

This week has been very frustrating in a number of ways, but I am trying to stay as positive as I can and not overthink things. I am now trying to be all about managing expectations, but it is difficult when other people keep adding to the pile. Thank goodness that it is Thursday . . . I do enjoy my weekends!

Also, if it wasn’t for my ESL teaching and my choir practices, I would probably have gone bonkers long ago. My class this week was just too funny – we were working on how to give street directions and how to read a street map Tuesday night, and I gave them lots of examples and exercises to work on in groups, and they just find all kinds of ways to make me crack up. At choir practice last night, we went over some pretty decent songs for Sunday – my soprano parts are pretty complicated this time though, so I hope I can remember them properly during the service or it will be really, really noticeable . . .

A columnist in the Washington Post yesterday seconded my wish that the Panda should have been called “Butterstick.” I did not know this, but there was a blogger-led write in campaign for submitting that name to the Zoo. I’m glad I’m not the only warped mind that liked the name . . .

I found a big hole in the elbow of one of my favorite button down sweaters today . . . So bummed! It is not easily mended either . . . I guess now it gets relegated to just “around the house” wearing . . .

You know how you have those clothes that you just love and wear to death? That sweater was one of them. Actually, since I hate shopping so much, most of my clothes fit in that category, which isn’t good – if I wear them to death, they wear out faster, which means that I have to go shopping more frequently to replace them. I wish I had the bucks to do what the fashion editors say, which is when you see something you like, buy two or three of them. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to find anything like it ever again when you go to look for it . . .

Halloween candy abounds at my office this week, and it will only get worse in the coming weeks. Willpower! Willpower! No, I will not eat those Tootsie Rolls or mini-candy bars. They are dead to me! . . . Wait . . . are those Twizzlers? OK, maybe just one or two . . . That’s it, though . . . no more!

Today, I found a new poet – Bob Kaufman. Learn all about him here: (http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/g_l/kaufman/about.htm). I had not known anything about this African American member of the Beat scene, and I hope to seek out more of his work in the future. Here are just two of his poems:

Jazz Chick

Music from her breast, vibrating
Soundseared into burnished velvet.
Silent hips deceiving fools.
Rivulets of trickling ecstacy
From the alabaster pools of Jazz
Where music cools hot souls.
Eyes more articulately silent
Than Medusa's thousand tongues.
A bridge of eyes, consenting smiles
reveal her presence singing
Of cool remembrance, happy balls
Wrapped in swinging
Jazz
Her music...
Jazz.

I Have Folded My Sorrows

I have folded my sorrows into the mantle of summer night,
Assigning each brief storm its alloted space in time,
Quietly pursuing catastrophic histories buried in my eyes.
And yes, the world is not some unplayed Cosmic Game,
And the sun is still ninety-three million miles from me,
And in the imaginary forest, the shingles hippo becomes the gay unicorn.
No, my traffic is not addled keepers of yesterday's disasters,
Seekers of manifest disembowelment on shafts of yesterday's pains.
Blues come dressed like introspective echoes of a journey.
And yes, I have searched the rooms of the moon on cold summer nights.
And yes, I have refought those unfinished encounters. Still, they remain unfinished.
And yes, I have at times wished myself something different.

The tragedies are sung nightly at the funerals of the poet;
The revisited soul is wrapped in the aura of familiarity.

Tuesday's Reflective Poem

Was wicked busy today and am teaching tonight, but I will leave you with this Daniel Hoffman poem to mull over . . .

Old Age
Daniel Hoffman

When it began he was already losing
Interest in the new work by the young.
His own, like X-rays probing, undismayed,
The self whose image brands each dread decade
In lines to which the culture's climbers clung,
Had of a sudden ceased, without his choosing,
To be novel.
Less and less inclined
Down darkness at the ends of roads to thrust
His curious, illuminating mind,
For Reality he'd take what he could trust:
The impulse of an art he couldn't stop
Reached back toward all he once by will outgrew
— Nothing so fine now, since his growing up,
No truth as telling as his youth was true.

48 Hours of Non-Stop Action

The 100 day old Panda cub at the Washington National Zoo finally has a name: Tai Shan – which means “Peaceful Mountain.” More info at: (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/17/AR2005101700397.html)

I, myself, was rather partial to “Butterstick,” which is how everyone described what the panda looked like when he was born. It seemed kinda catchy . . . Maybe it would be a good name for a cat?

Weekend Antics: Our weekend started Friday night, when we went to downtown D.C. to meet my friend, L, for drinks at [Local DC Cigar & Martini Bar] before heading out to [Semi-Upscale Pizza Chain]. Mr. Random and I got downtown at 6:30 PM, where L and her friends were already well on their way, drink-wise. It was Happy Hour, and there was a promotion by Absolut Vodka with promo girls giving out free drink tickets. I’m not much of a drinker (especially on an empty stomach) so I mostly stood around and people watched. You couldn’t really have a conversation, it was so loud, and we got there too late to get a table so we were standing at the bar. The bartender knew L, though, and although we all had about 12 drinks, he only charged us 12 bucks for the night when we left at 8:30. (We need get L to come back to DC to hang out more often!)

As much as I enjoyed Happy Hours when I was younger, I’m glad I don’t have to do the “meet market” part of the scene anymore . . . that’s for sure!

Went to the Clarendon Day festival on Saturday and caught up with some friends of ours who just moved down to the Southeastern Virginia area. The wife just got a job as an Art History Professor at a public college, and the husband telecommuntes for his job up here in D.C. They were able to buy a nice 4 bedroom house with a yard, but they miss the urban environment and all of their friends. It was really good to see them and hear how they are adjusting. It was also a really beautiful day just to be walking around.

Since we were in the neighborhood, we went to see our friend, C, and take her out to dinner. We hadn’t talked to her in a couple of weeks and wanted to see how she was doing. C did get a couple of freelance jobs, but one is intermittent and the other one she does not seem to be getting along with the project manager. She is still not making enough money to cover her rent and bills, but somehow, while we were with her managed to spend $50 on doggie treats for her ailing dog. I could understand buying treats for the poor thing, but NOT $50 worth. Then at dinner she ordered the most expensive special on the menu, so Mr. Random and I let her pay for her own food . . . we were kind of annoyed. When we got home, I told Mr. Random that I am entirely stumped . . . every time I see this woman now, I get really annoyed, even though I am trying to be a friend and all while not trying to enable her destructive habits, but where is the line? I would feel horrible abandoning someone who is obviously spiraling downward with few friends, but I don’t know if my psychic energy can take her anymore . . .

On Sunday, we went to the Bethesda Row Art Festival, and there actually was a lot of quality art there. Mr. Random and I actually bought a poster sized photograph for our bedroom, by the photographer John Stine. He took at lot of pictures of a Shaker Village in Kentucky, and all of his photos have a peaceful, spare, simple and elegant quality that is associated with shaker design and architecture. He is about to go the New Zealand for two years so he was selling a lot of his work for 50% off. I only wish I had more money, because there were two other framed photos that I would have loved to take home. I had him sign the picture on the back of the frame, and he personalized it for us “To [Random Kath and Mr. Random], 10-26-05, John Stine.” Awesome!

Wow, the day has flown by! I have no poems for today, not enough time to look for one.

I hope you all had good weekends! What did you guys do?

Lite n’ Easy . . .

Yesterday, I had a bunch of heavy-duty thoughts . . . today will be the easy, breezy “weekend’s coming” edition . . .

Martha Apprentice: I only saw the last half hour, but am bummed that Dawn got fired. However, I’m not too sad because I thought that Dawn was one of the few actual sane peple on the team, and was probably thought of as a huge threat to everyone, therefore they had to get her off. She will probably do much better without the stupid show anyway . . .she seems to have her stuff together.

Trump Apprentice: I was so happy to see Toral gone. She didn’t even try to be a team player, and Rebecca was right that she should have stepped up to be the project manager after last week’s fiasco. It also really annoyed me that she pulled the excuse that she didn’t want to get into the costume for religious reasons way after the task was over. Now, if she had stated that up front, it wouldn’t have been as big a deal as her just saying that she didn’t want to do it for “personal reasons.” I got the feeling that she thought that wearing a costume was beneath her Wharton-educated self. Meanwhile, on the guys’ team, one of the biggest, macho-est guys didn’t mind dressing up as a woman to get the task done. I wonder what Toral thought of that? (I also thought it was funny when they suggested that he wear “duct tape.” I would have given him a poufy skirt so that skin tight would not be so much of a problem.

Towards the end, the girls did sound a bit intolerant of Toral’s religion excuse, but I don’t think it was as much intolerance (although, I do think it played a role) as that Toral seemed to be fishing for excuses, and didn’t seem to want to step up on the task to contribute to a team win . . . which was doubly annoying since she sucked on the previous week’s task . . .

Today’s poem I picked because the Random household did have plums in the fridge this week, and yes, I did just eat the last one this morning . . . and it was yummy, too!

This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Have a great weekend, everyone!

All Over the Map

Thanks for the music suggestions! I feel so behind the times . . . I don’t have an iPod and Mr. Random really wants one. That might make it easier to sample music if I can just download it, but then at the thought of it I start feeling like a grumpy old man . . . “In my day, we used to just make cheap mixed tapes! And I used to listen to the college radio stations and hear all sorts of cool stuff! Now you have to pay big money to get what you used to get for cheap or free . . .” Cranky, cheap old me . . .

I get Rolling Stone Magazine every month . . . it lets me pretend to know what’s going on in the music world and with youth pop culture in general. That and MTV. However, those aren’t as good as good as they used to be in keeping up with the trends, since to see any interesting videos on MTV, you have to be up at 3:30 in the morning (and I’m trying not to do that any more . . .)

G, I’d love the directions on how to make up a banner, but there’s no rush. It will be quite a while before I can implement. If I’m lucky, I’ll have some downtime some random weekend afternoon and will get to play with it some. Many thanks for thinking of me!

Missed Martha’s Apprentice last night, so I’ll have to catch the rerun on CNBC this week. Trump is on tonight, and I hope to have my usual rant tomorrow. Gee, I missed Laguna Beach this week, too. This “being busy and having a life” stuff is seriously cutting into my TV watching . . .

Wonk-speak alert: On Crooked Timber today, there is a discussion about Game Theory and what the original poster thinks is wrong with it: (http://crookedtimber.org/2005/10/13/whats-wrong-with-game-theory/#more-3912 ). Game theory has been “Topic A” for a few days, since the Nobel Prize in Economics was just awarded to two game theorists, Robert Aumann and Thomas Schelling.

My interpretation of game theory, as applied to economics, was that rather than relying on just the standbys of supply and demand to determine the rational behavior of consumers, game theory takes into account that not all consumer decisions that are made are entirely rational, and are dependent on the decisions of others. Game theory takes these irrational decisions into account in determining economic behavior, using lovely mathematical formulas which would take me ages to try to understand, (unless I took calculus again, which is always an option.)

So this CT poster seems to be complaining that game theory is a lousy predictor of behavior because it is not consistent. However, I was under the impression that the inconsistency of consumers was the entire point of game theory – we aren’t rational, so we do irrational things according to what we think others are going to do, and while game theory isn’t perfect in determining outcomes, it is as close as you can get for now.

For a more thorough definition of game theory than I could ever provide, and references to other (more scholarly) documents describing the theory and its implications, go to (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Game_theory ). After reading this stuff, you may have a better handle on it than I do, so you can explain to me the flaws in my perception . . . I really do welcome it, because I may be misinterpreting this stuff due to my own biases. . . .

Last night was practice for my church choir. Our new Music Director has been there a year, and was telling us the results of a congregational survey of the music program – it seems that everyone loves the music and the choir and wants to hear more from us, but they don’t necessarily want to sing more with us. That’s cool, and everyone was happy that the church members really like what we are doing. We also figure that if people wanted to sing more, they would join the choir anyway. However, someone made the comment that “You know, if there isn’t choir, you don’t see [Random Kath} anywhere near here!” To which we all chuckled and I said that that was true, and then we went on about our business.

Now, why am I writing about this random incident? Well, . . . because I have been thinking a lot about faith and religion lately, and pretty much coming to the decision that I’m, at best, an agnostic. [Definition: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnostic ] However, I love music and I love to sing . . . experiencing music to its fullest is the most spiritual experience that I can think of . . . if there is a God, in that moment is when him/her is felt most keenly. There is some really crappy religious music out there, (and I’m hoping there’s a purgatory for those folks who created the cheesy religious pop that is advertised in TV in those lovely CDs and they are forced to listen to it for eternity), but when done well and with full engagement, someone like J.S. Bach can totally transport you to a higher plane.

I go to church because that is where I can sing the songs and hear the music and feel the feelings I need to feel to help get me through. I couldn’t give a rat’s behind about the readings, or the sermons, which nine times out of ten rather suck. The most moving sermon I ever heard was done by one of the women in our congregation who was filling in while our pastor was away, and she talked about her experiences in a way that was so real, and relevant and personal that it just blew everyone away. Otherwise, I am sitting there being highly disturbed by the fallacies of simple logic that are going on, and feeling bad because . . . well, in a church, most folks are told that you need to believe this and if you don’t believe this well then you are highly misguided and need to get with the program. And I go to a VERY liberal church.

But then I think about my friends who follow other religions . . . and those who don’t follow any religion . . . and how many religions have been born and died since the beginning of universe . . . And I wonder, is there really one right way? I think there is not. There are so many similarities between faiths . . . so much about human nature that carries across cultures and centuries . . . so much random bad that happens in the world . . . and so many moments of unrestrained joy and wonder . . .

Having faith is very comforting to people – this I cannot deny. But so is having optimism that tomorrow is another day, and each of us has many opportunities to make it better for ourselves and others . . .

. . . I will have to revisit this train of thought another time. I am basically trying to work all this out in my mind and I keep getting interrupted. (What? I actually have to do some WORK here? The nerve!)

I’m sorry if none of this makes sense . . . remember the sign does say “random thoughts” at the top of the screen . . .

I’ve thought of a title for my 2005 National Novel Writing Month story – Managing Expectations. I would say more, but I need to save it for my story. I’m not sure yet if I will put the work in progress up on this blog yet, but I know I will put some stuff up. If you are interested and haven’t signed up yet, there’s still time . . . you only have to write 50,000 words in the month of November! Come do it with me! (http://www.nanowrimo.org/)

Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” just came on the radio. Did anyone else beside me think when it came out that she purposefully made it a song that would be copied by high school marching bands around the country? I can see it being played at a lot of Homecoming games, along with the synchronized Color Guard flag movements. It’s bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S! That stupid song is going to be in my head all day now . . .

Today, I will end with an e.e. cummings poem:

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Fawning about Fall . . .

I'm loving the Fall temperatures, but hating the dreariness. Yay, sweaters! Boots! Turtlenecks! Clothes that I love! Clothes that are forgiving of a little extra poundage . . . although, I am working on that . . .

Haven’t had a chance to get my allergy medicine yet, so of course I have spent the day being as sneezy and wheezy as a girl can be . . .

This weekend is shaping up to be a good one – The Bethesda Row Arts Festival is this weekend, which means an opportunity to get a few Christmas presents bought early. Saturday is also Clarendon Day, in which a friend of mine’s band is playing that afternoon. And, on top of all this, my friend, L, is coming into town this weekend from NYC, and Mr. Random and I can’t wait to see her.

Speaking of Christmas, I’m starting to get catalogues in the mail. Eeeek! However, I’m not one of those people who complain about seeing Christmas stuff up in July – as I learned in my former foray into retail, (worked in a Hallmark store for 1 year during college – I am the queen of gift-wrapping!) there are a whole lot of people who shop early and get their lists out of the way really early. Shopping early allows you to actually take time and think of what people want, instead of grabbing that last Chia Head for Dad just because you waited until 5 PM December 24 to do all of your shopping. Also, as I get older, months seem to pass by with lightening fast speed so while it seems like it is only mid-October, early December will be here in a blink of an eye . . .

ESL Class last night went much better . . . to teach about prepositions, I used a big, yellow stress ball to show the students “The ball is on the table . . . The ball is in the corner . . . the ball is under the book . . . etc.) They got it really well, although I couldn’t stop throwing the stupid ball around and it eventually got away from me and rolled into the class next to us. Chastened, I put the ball away on the table, but the class got a big kick out of my fumbleness . . .

I guess that’s why I love teaching . . . I can be the big ham that I usually am not in my real life, all in the name of getting information across.

I wish I knew how to do a cool banner like some other blogs I visit. Maybe one with a collage of photos with “Snapshots from an Ordinary Life” in a cool (but readable) font imposed over the top. But, seeing as I can barely update this blog with cool links half the time, I’ll just put that on the huge to do list that I have stashed in the bottom of my closet . . .

What are you guys listening to these days? I’m looking to try some new music and I’m stumped as to who I should have on my radar screen. I know that Fiona Apple just released her new album (finally!), but other than that, can you all recommend some artists that you are enjoying these days? Links greatly appreciated . . .

Today’s poem is one that I found and was drawn to . . . something in the rhythm and imagery, I think . . .

[state of emergency]
by Barbara Jane Reyes

To honor movement in crescendos of text, combing through ashes for fragments of human bone, studying maps drawn for the absurdity of navigation — what may be so edgy about this state of emergency is my lack of apology for what I am bound to do. For instance, if I dream the wetness of your mouth an oyster my tongue searches for the taste of ocean, if I crave the secret corners of your city on another continent, in another time, in series of circular coils extending outward, then it is only because I continue to harbor the swirls of galaxies in the musculature and viscera of my body. You will appear because I have mouthed your name in half-wish, reluctant to bring myself to you. You will appear for me, because you always do, with earthen skin outside the possibility of human causation.

Swamped!

Hey, eveyone!

I'm swamped with work today and am now getting ready for my class tonight, so no random musings today . . .

However, I will leave you with a poem to mull over:

Backward Miracle
Kay Ryan

Every once in a while
we need a
backward miracle
that will strip language,
make it hold for
a minute: just the
vessel with the
wine in it —
a sacramental
refusal to multiply,
reclaiming the
single loaf
and the single
fish thereby.

A Quick One

Short post today . . . have today off and am running a ton of errands that I don't normally get to. I hope everyone had a great weekend, even if it was a bit soggy!

Saw most of the Kaine/Kilgore VA governor debate last night. All I will say for now is . . . is this the best we can do? These two guys are the best that Virginia could come up with to run for Governor? EEWWWWWWWW! What's up with this? A friend of mine asked me who I was for, and I honestly said "They both rather suck, but the lesser of two evils is Kaine." and then I went into a diatribe on how I'm getting really sick of supporting sucky, middling candidates, just because the other candidate is more sucky. I really wish that one of my friends will finally decide to run for local office again . . . at least I'd feel better working for someone I already know and care about, even if we do lose in the end.

"To Have and Have Not" is one of the best movies ever. And the fact that Lauren Bacall was only NINETEEN when she starred beside Humphrey Bogart in this film, just makes my jaw drop in amazement. I only wish I was so classy at nineteen . . .

Went to the doctor today. Told her about my allergies, sleeping problems and depression. She's giving me pills for the allergies, and suggested some short term sleeping pills for the sleep problems . . . which may help the depression. She also wants me to bump up the exercise a bit, which I have been falling down on. I was very nervous before going to see her and felt a little better afterwards, but will wait and see how things go for a while. I really need to find a new job, but it is so hard for me to decide what to do next . . . I don't want to go from a lousy situation to a lousy situation. (Unless it pays more, of course. I can put up with anything for a little bit if it pays more. Then I can get rid of some debts and save up a cushion so then I can quit for a while . . .)

Talk to you all tomorrow!

Off the Script

Trump’s Apprentice: The event planner girl just HAD to go . . . that was just the worst event planning I’ve seen . . . didn’t even advertise or do a banner or anything. I do think the Toral (?) thinks much too highly of herself and needs to go too. The project manager was just way to loyal to her on this task, and I don’t think it was that warranted. Markus seems to have redeemed himself in the eyes of the team, which shows that he must have finally learned something . . . although I get the feeling that he may shoot himself in the foot again. Gary has taken up the mantle of being the obvious jerk on the team.

Schools - Testing and Scripting: Over at Crooked Timber there is a small discussion going on about the PBS program “Making Schools Work,” that I am finding a bit interesting. There is a bit of disagreement about whether it is a good idea for teachers to have to be scripted in the classroom, and whether standardized testing is a good idea.

Now, I am not, nor have I ever been, a public school teacher . . . or any type of paid teacher for that matter. My whole teaching experience consists of the whole year that I have been teaching ESL to adults one night a week as a volunteer. But even armed with this little bit of knowledge, I think I can make a few knowledgeable statements.

I think scripting IS a good idea . . . especially for new teachers, but with the caveat that they need good initial training to know why they are doing what it says to be doing, and can be quite helpful for more experienced teachers. And standardized testing is NOT a bad thing, if done correctly and for the right reasons.

When I first volunteered for the Literacy Council, they needed new teachers right away and so I didn’t get the “official” training that new teachers are supposed to get. They gave me at teachers manual and sent me on my merry way. Let’s just say that my first semester was quite an unfocused mess. I tried to follow the directions in the teacher’s manual, but it wasn’t translating well to the students. So I started making up my own stuff to meet the objectives, which worked, maybe not better, but differently. Then, towards the end of the semester, a neighboring county did an ESL teacher training workshop and I immediately signed up. There I learned so much about lesson planning and how adults learn and how to incorporate this knowledge into our own lesson plans.

When I was finished with the workshop, I only had 3 weeks left in the semester, but things finally clicked for me. I looked at the lessons constructed in the Teacher’s manual and now understood how they were supposed to be conducted. (Thus my caveat about “having proper training.”) I also by now had enough experience to know what things to add to improve the experience for my students. The “script” - so to speak - made things easier so that I didn’t have to spend as much time on the lesson plan. And time that I did spend on the lesson plan was usually in finding supplemental information and conversational points that would be of interest to my particular class.

As for testing, for our program we test all of our students when they enter the program and then we test all of the students on a similar test at the end of the semester. They cannot study for this test and we (the teachers) are not allowed to let them know when they are going to be tested. (Since if they know, some of the students would not show up on the test day.) This allows us to see how much progress each student has made, and lets us know where to place them for the next semester. If this was they type of testing that they did in public schools, I would have no problem with it at all. However, the high-stakes testing that is going on now does not seem to be there to really help the students, rather seems like it is there to assign blame or glory to schools and districts. That is my assessment, but if anyone knows differently, please let me know.

Some of you guys watched the program . . . so I’m guessing you are interested in this subject too . . . so what do you think?

Have a great weekend, everyone! I’ll leave you with this poem:

Like Most Revelations
by Richard Howard
after Morris Louis

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture – yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity. And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention – we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Pink Icing on the Cake

Watched the PBS program, “Making Schools Work,” last night. If you get a chance to see it when it re-runs again, please do . . . well, if you are a policy junky like me, who is interested in education theories. There was a Post Online discussion with the creator of the show, Hedrick Smith, today at (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/discussion/2005/09/20/DI2005092001163.html).

Martha’s Apprentice notes: They didn’t make Jim look as much like a jerk last night, I guess because his wife had their baby girl, and I guess it would be bad form to make him look like a snot, while trying to give him props for being a new dad. I do fear for this child, having such a slimy dad . . . Also, was glad to see Shawn go – open mouth, insert foot! I thought Martha would have gotten rid of the Project Manager guy (whose name just never stuck in my head – he didn’t have that huge a personality to remember him by) for being a dork and bringing in two people who had nothing to do with the loss. (See last week’s Trump Apprentice note for how that SHOULD work.) They keep bringing Dawn in, I guess just for spite, although it should be plain to the judges that for some reason everyone is threatened by her. I wish Martha’s Apprentice would do like the Trump one and show the losers doing their “rant of shame” in the cab on the way out. The letter thing is kind of lame . . .

ESL class on Tuesday: Maybe I’m just having an off semester, but things are still quite a mess at the class site. We did finally get books for the students. The lead teacher was having a bit of personal trauma, so I was trying to comfort her and make sure she was OK. She is working four different jobs and internships, trying to get into a Ph.D. program, and has NO money, and her uncle just died and she can’t afford to go to the funeral. She is always quite exhausted and the added stress of mourning and not being able to go, just got to her. She was able to pull herself together for the rest of her class and thanked me at the end for being an ear, but I still felt bad.

I will be so glad when this week is over . . . we just found out that we will have Monday off from work. YAY! I have a doctor’s appointment that day, so I won’t have to worry about trying to sneak back to work in time.

Another busy day at the salt mines, so fewer random things to say. However, I’m happy that I still got to post today, because I love to see your comments – yes, I admit it . . . you guys brighten up my day! Hope all is going well for you . . .

Short Random Thoughts

Busy day today . . . didn’t have time to write much Randomness.

May I interest you in a Website? One of the Websites I amble to every so often is Toycamera.com (http://www.toycamera.com/). This amazing site shows you the fun that can be had, and the amazing pictures that you can take, using a cheap toy film camera. The cameras of choice are Dianas and Holgas. (For more info about the types of cameras, read http://www.toycamera.com/about.cfm) I actually own a Holga – it only cost $20 – and it takes fairly passable medium format pictures. (Which, if you know anything about medium format cameras, is an absolute BARGAIN for the size.) Good, old fashioned, playing-around-with-the-camera-and-seeing-what-comes-out . . . almost pinhole-like in its simplicity. And the best part is that the cameras are so cheap that you don’t mind toting them anywhere and doing wacky things with them. The film is a pain-in-the-rear to load, but I think that is because I’m not quite used to it yet.

It’s almost that time of year. November 1-30, 2005 is National Novel Writing Month. (Also known as NaNoWriMo.) You have 30 days to write 50,000 words. Anyone who blogs should definitely try this contest. I always want to do it every year, and then just don’t. I may try this year though . . . who wants to do this with me? More info: (http://www.nanowrimo.org/)

Another W.S. Merwin poem: I actually Googled him and looked up some more of his work –I do like his writing, I must seek out some of his books. He is an older gentleman, born 1927, and one of his volumes, The Carrier of Ladders, won a Pulitzer Prize. I will end with him again today:

ANY TIME

How long ago the day is
when at last I look at it
with the time it has taken
to be there still in it
now in the transparent light
with the flight in the voices
the beginning in the leaves
everything I remember
and before it before me
present at the speed of light
in the distance that I am
who keep reaching out to it
seeing all the time faster
where it has never stirred from
before there is anything
the darkness thinking the light

Fine As Wine

R.I.P. Playwright August Wilson (1945-2005): All ten plays in his cycle on the African American experience in America may not stand the test of time, but certainly some of them will. Some amazing actors starred in his plays – Charles S. Dutton, James Earl Jones, Brian Stokes Mitchell. I also heard a program on a local radio station about Mr. Wilson about a month or so ago when the news of his illness came out, that talked about how giving and helpful he was to young playwrights and writers. It is so tragic that he has died so young, but it must have put him at great peace to know that his goal was completed. (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/03/theater/newsandfeatures/03wilson.html)

Ramadan and High Holy Days: This is a very holy time of year for two major religions – Islam and Judaism. If you don’t know about what’s going on this time of year, do check out these sites for a bit of an overview.

(http://www.holidays.net/ramadan/)
(http://www.holidays.net/highholydays/)

Many blessings to all of my friends in these two faiths!

Yesterday’s poem seemed to strike a chord with everyone. Are we happy with the people we are now? What is it that we want to become that we aren’t already? You know, I actually do like the type of person I have turned out to be . . . I just want to put that energy toward something . . . more meaningful? Something that lasts outside of me and will endure? Something that adds to the amount of good done in the world? It can be argued that my ESL and non-profit work do that . . . is it a matter of scale? Unrealistic expectations?

Can I be alone with myself? For a while, I could not. I was distracted and needed distractions. Couldn’t sit still long enough to read more than a paragraph or two. Could stare at the TV for hours, glad for not having to be able to think. Now I am starting back reading a bit more, enjoying the quiet, able to concentrate again. Does this mean good things? Am I getting happier with being with myself? I don’t know . . .

Watched “Laguna Beach” last night. I caught up on the episode I missed last week. It is such fluff, and I feel so embarrassed watching it, but it is mindless fun. I don’t really like any of the girl characters . . . they just seem to use all of the guys (with the exception of Jason, who is also clued in on the using game) and not have any feelings for any of them . . . just sort of leading them on in a detached sort of “gee this is fun, but it doesn’t mean anything to me” kind of way. The previous sentence probably makes no sense unless you watch the show, and can tell what I’m trying to get at . . .

I promised a review of The Image, but didn’t finish it last night. It seems to be belaboring the same points over and over and over in the chapter I am on now. I’m just going to skip the rest and read the last chapters tonight. It was a great premise, it is just going on a little too long . . .

I am still trying to figure out how to take an unpaid leave of absence. I’m thinking this is going to be quite beneficial to me, but there is not time to do it, there is so much going on. I’m starting to get a kernel of clarity about things and could use a breather, otherwise, I’m just going to turn into another sobbing mess in the next few months.

Today, I’ll end with some Langston Hughes. My poetry selections come and go . . . sometimes I have the time and am able to find poems that fit or that I like, other times I either can’t find a poem or I don’t have time to even look. As we go through our separate bouts of reflection and changes, always remember that basically, life IS fine . . .


Life is Fine
by Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!
I came up twice and cried!
If that water hadn't a-been so cold
I might've sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator
Sixteen floors above the ground.
I thought about my baby
And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!
I stood there and I cried!
If it hadn't a-been so high
I might've jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',
I guess I will live on.
I could've died for love--
But for livin' I was born

Though you may hear me holler,
And you may see me cry--
I'll be dogged, sweet baby,
If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

So the Week Begins . . .

Didn’t run in the Army Ten Miler this year – I had toyed with the idea of just starting and then seeing how much I could do, but I had a bout of insomnia Saturday night and didn’t fall asleep until after 2 AM – not enough sleep to run 10 miles on. Mr. Random did run though, and was involved with the big snafu this year . . . they rerouted the race an extra mile longer because of a suspicious package found under the DC 14th Street Bridge. Because the race was rerouted at the last minute, it became an “unofficial race” (considered a “recreational run”) and therefore they were not counting anyone’s completion times. Mr. Random didn’t mind – he just runs to run – but some folks who were competing for money or to register a personal best were quite upset about it. Mr. Random said that it was a small price to pay though, I mean, would you rather have been blown up on the bridge?

Reading of the week: Daniel J. Boorstin’s The Image: A Guide to Psuedo-Events in America. This book was written in 1961 and is incredibly contemporary. I started it on Sunday morning and am already halfway through. Explains how a lot of what we consider “news,” isn’t – rather it is stuff made up to seem important and fill space & time in newspapers and on newscasts. Makes some interesting points, although not all that I agree with, but it does get your mind working. I will give a full review when I am finished.

Went to Art on the Avenue on Saturday. Talked to several B&W photographers who had booths and whose work I was very interested in. All of them use film, have their own darkrooms at home, develop their own negatives and create their own prints. One guy was saying that the equipment is pretty cheap now that most people are moving to digital and getting rid of their darkroom stuff. I would LOVE to have my own darkroom at home, and when we were house hunting I was trying to find a place that would allow me to do so, but the only place I could have a darkroom is in the half bath, and the fan doesn’t work in there at this point. Maybe if I got it fixed I could set something up in there, but I think the room is still much too small to have an enlarger in there.

The art was really blah – more crafts than art, and yes I do make a distinction – and nothing stood out to me, besides the photos. However, a vintage clothing store on the Avenue was having a sidewalk sale and I think I fell in love with a few of the things in there. There was a black velvet cape with a hood which would have gone lovely with the black and white Audrey Hepburn-type 60’s dress I saw inside. There was also a velvet hat that would have gone lovely with the cape, too. Everything was very reasonably priced for the styles and condition they were in, but still a little too pricey for me right now . . . although I still have them on my mind. What are the odds that those items will still be there a month from now?

I also had about 5 cokes with lunch. I rarely do that, but the Mexican restaurant we went to didn’t have any of my alternatives, and I didn’t feel like water. The waiter refilled my glass a ton of times, and I just kept on drinking . . . so with all the caffeine and sugar, I was pretty wired for the rest of the day. And THEN we got frozen custard at the Dreamery. I was fairly spinning in a sugar haze that afternoon . . . but I did have a very good afternoon, overall!

There goes the neighborhood: This article caught my attention in the WP on Sunday - Chevy Chase's Conflict of Size and Sensibilities: 'Mansionization' Pits Old vs. New
(http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/01/AR2005100101470.html)

Now, I’m kind of torn about this type of thing. It always makes me very sad to see little bungalows torn down and made into those monstrosities, because (a) it means that the character of the neighborhood is changed (b) it means that someone else will not be able to buy what should be a starter size type home (c) it gets rid of an architectural type of housing that no one is building anymore, and that there IS a demand for . . . it’s just that those of us who would want those type of houses can’t quite afford them yet. However, I understand people wanting more space than these houses can provide, while still wanting to live in a really close in neighborhood . . .

That lady is blocking the sun of two of her neighbors, though. That’s kind of rude. There are ways to add on the space you want without towering over the entire neighborhood – you just have to work with the architect to get the desired result. To build something SO out of the character to the neighborhood takes a bit of ignorant willfulness on the homeowners part. I know enough about design, architecture and renovation to know that making updates and expansions to houses in the character of the present neighborhood has been successfully done in the past. Some people DO just want to show off their wealth . . .

Today’s Poem: Seems to fit so well, I just had to share.

To Waiting
by W. S. Merwin

You spend so much of your time
expecting to become
someone else
always someone
who will be different
someone to whom a moment
whatever moment it may be
at last has come
and who has been
met and transformed
into no longer being you
and so has forgotten you

meanwhile in your life
you hardly notice
the world around you
lights changing
sirens dying along the buildings
your eyes intent
on a sight you do not see yet
not yet there
as long as you
are only yourself

with whom as you
recall you were
never happy
to be left alone for long

A Family-Friendly, Heartwarming Film . . .

Today, as I was updating the links on my blog, I found these gems on "Making Light."

It seems that there was a competition where assistant movie editors "re-cut" old trailers for famous movies and try to make them seem like totally different movies. If you can watch movies on your computer I do say check these out . . .

Especially The Shining (A feel good family film) - (http://waxy.org/random/view.php?type=video&filename=shining_redux.mov)

West Side Story (as a zombie movie) - (http://www.ps260.com/Trailer/westsidestorytrailer_small.mov)

Full Story and more links here: (http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/006895.html#006895)

Have fun! Happy Saturday!