I can't breathe

Sometimes I think that the entire world is watching itself in its own movie (in technicolor), and is therefore separated from itself by that day to day, hum-drum curtain that most of us call "suburban reality". For some reason the violence - especially that of person to person - in all of its color is gutting and entertaining at the same time. The red is ultra red like Betty Page's sensual lips, somehow completely innocent and breathlessly sexy at the same time; the blues and greens blur together and beg for 3D lenses, or at least squinting eyes so that the brain can form a picture and make sense of what is being projected; the black tends to bleed a little and smears the defining lines that tell us that you are you and I am me; and the white seems too bleached and therefore false in a way, like the soft light that makes wedding pictures surreal and halo-y.

This deliberate, false "color" horrifies me.

I can't stomach the notion that people turn tragedy into politic. And what politic isn't a response to a threat, a repression, or to violence? Politic would seem to be a good thing, something righteous, an agent of change (!) except for the motives lurking underneath these ideals. There's always a motive.

It horrifies me that there is so much talk. The talk suffocates me. The news suffocates me. I. can't. breathe for all of the oxygen intake for talk. And all of you have heard the cliche that talk is cheap, and it is.

But then again, it's very expensive for some.

Nevertheless, we'll continue to talk and talk and talk and talk. We'll talk again on the same topic a year from now, on the anniversary of whatever we're talking about today. We'll mourn, and be stoic, and measure (in some sort of rational, concrete political terms) "how far we've come" until tomorrow, when we'll talk about something else, something more horrifying.

This makes me tired, and sometimes I just want to yell "cut!" and stop the technicolor so that I can take comfort in the dusty static, so that I can breathe again.

Quoting Christine

The amazing Christine has just finished reading A History of God, and in true Christine form she is now going back through it and typing up the parts that are especially interesting to her. That means that I can get the Cliffs Notes version without having to actually read the book.. (I'm on page 13 and have been on page 13 for two weeks now.)

OK OK, I will read the book..eventually. I want to finish The Bell Jar first, and then if I haven't spiraled into a state of utter despair and hopelessness, I hope to read another David Sedaris book. If anything, that will jerk me out of any kind of Bell Jarish melancholy. Also, I want to read a Nick Hornby book soon. Rich thinks they're amazing. OH! and there are several Allende books on my list AND I'm dying to reread Jane Eyre. (such. a. nerd.)

Whatever.

The whole point of this blog is NOT to share my reading list but to share some excellent quotes from A History of God that Christine shared with me. (Did I mention she's amazing?) Enjoy these and feel free to respond to them if you want.

'Human beings are aware that something is wrong with their condition; they feel at odds with themselves and others, out of touch with their inner nature and disoriented. Conflict and a lack of simplicity seem to characterize our existence. Yet we are constantly seeking to unite the multiplicity of phenomena and reduce them to some ordered whole. When we glance at a person, we do not see a leg, an arm, another arm, and a head, but automatically organize these elements into an integrated human being. This drive for unity is fundamental to the way our minds work and must, Plotinus believed, also reflect the essence of things in general. To find the underlying truth of reality, the soul must refashion itself, undergo a period of purification (katharsis) and engage in contemplation (theoria), as Plato had advised. It will have to look beyond the cosmos, beyond the sensible world and even beyond the limitations of the intellect to see into the heart of reality. This will not be an ascent to a reality outside ourselves, however, but a descent into the deepest recesses of the mind. It is, so to speak, a climb inward.' (101-102)

and (the one she likes)

'It seems that when human beings contemplate the absolute, they have very similar ideas and experiences.' (104)

More reasons to love people...and enchiladas

I'm feeling much better today. It's amazing how healing an evening out with good friends and some EXCELLENT Mexican food are. We went to a little Tex/Mex hole in the wall called Rafa's where everything tasted AMAZING. The queso and margaritas alone were worth the trip to Dallas!

Also, because everything in Rafa's is very close together, I was practically sitting in the guy's lap next to me, which was not very enjoyable other than the conversation I was forced to "hear" was pretty amusing.

Here's the scene:
A Man sits next to me, his 4 year old mute child next to him, his mousy wife beside the four year old. At the head of the table is a high chair that holds another eerily silent child (who is old enough to eat pizza at a Mexican food restaurant, but young enough to sit in the high chair). Across from the man sits an elderly couple, the man's in-laws who obviously have never seen authentic Mexican food before and are horrified (as demonstrated by their facial expressions) that each food item is only a slightly different shade of yellowy brown and that all of it is touching.

Man: ...yeah it's supposed to look like that. Is it spicy?

In-Laws: (nod in unison)

Man: That's because they put jalapenos in it.

Children and wife: (blink, blink)

Man: In Spanish they say that hot food is caliente.

wife: (glances at husband)

Man: Oh. I mean calor. That's temperature hot. Like the weather. Caliente means... you know..

All: (blink, blink)

Man: You know... (gesturing loudly with arms)

All: (blink blink)

Man: Well, it means something sexual.

All: (look down at their plates)

Me: (biting the inside of my cheek, trying so so so so hard not to laugh out loud)

Man to in-laws: (in a flat, emotionless tone) Yeah. We are sure sad that you guys have to go back tomorrow... Yep. We sure are sad about that.

(and scene)

After dinner we "accidentally" ended up at Milwaukee Joe's for ice-cream, even though we were way too full for flan and sopapillas.

What?

I can't help it if we spotted it from the side of the road, pulled the fastest u-turn in the history of u-turns and HAD to go in since Milwaukee's has some of the BEST ice-cream on the planet. I can't help it that we needed to taste every single flavor before choosing one. I'm a productive member of society, folks. As a teacher, my ass is required to be double the size of my bust. It's the law. Besides, some things are just expected.

Anyway, we had a great night, and I went home to dreams of pastel tortillas and successful English train experiences, luggage and all.

Bridge to Terrible-sick-ia

This has been a really LONG week, especially since I've been under the weather. Seriously. The weather has been lying on top of me like some obese incubus, completely violating my body and rudely crushing me with all of its floundering and flip flopping.*

Observe: Sunday and Monday it flurried after a gorgeous previous week in the 80's. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were rainy and cold-fronty mixed with sunshine and butterflies. Friday was all about the SEVERE, super cell, form above your house and drop the scary tentacles of doom storms, complete with multiple "unconfirmed" tornadoes, uprooted trees (they were sucked out of the ground, roots and all), and (of-course) many trailer parks turned up-side-down and flung on top of each other. Trinity Good Shepherd of the Dunk-is-Better-than-Sprinkled Baptist Church's roof was torn off in Haltom City, and I'm sure there will be some up-lifting article written about how, "Yes, the roof was ripped off and the pews were scattered, but did you see that the pulpit was still perfectly untouched and the debris that slammed into the residence next door made a perfect cross on their living room floor? (without the naked Jesus!) Yes. This is God's sign. The devil tried to destroy us, but what a miracle."

As you can see, I'm feeling very gripey about it all, especially since this cold/flu I've contracted is dragging it's feet in my immune system. I've been having one symptom at a time: pink eye-bola, sore throat, sneezy-wheezy Kleenex pleasey, and spleen rattling choking cough. None of the symptoms alone merits missing a day of work, and each of the symptoms has me crawling home each day, curling up into the fetal position, and staring out the window until 8:00 when I can rationalize going to bed.

ANYWAY, there is a point amidst all of this rambling. The point is that I haven't read anything very interesting lately since reading seems like a task akin to Google's directions about swimming across the Atlantic (to France from NYC). I haven't been exercising for obvious reasons. I haven't had any intelligent/coherent conversations in the last few days, seeing as I cough up a lung every time I speak (which really puts people off). My mind, body, and spirit are decomposing as I type.

The worst part is I am a complete asshole for indulging in my own dramatic pity party because I am well aware that this little complaint is minuscule compared to some of the other things going on in the world.

So this is it. I've said my peace, and now I'm going to do what Mr. Lambrecht always snootily said to do whenever we griped about being completely exhausted, our feet and lips bleeding from too much exertion; I'm going to build a bridge and GET OVER IT. (Figuratively, though I think Mr. Lambrecht really expected us to break-out the 2x4's and hammers..)

*Dear Incubus, the least you can do is come in the form of David Beckham or the guy who plays the nerd-boy on Criminal Minds. What's with this George Kostanza in a mustard-stained wife-beater? Have some freakin' courtesy, man! I swear!

SNL - United Way

Peyton Manning is one of the nicest guys on the planet which is why this is FREAKIN' hilarious.

Friday Night Salon Topics

Moderated by Dr. Larry Allums

We are surrounded by language every day, but how often do we encounter real conversation? Although we read newspapers, screens, and books, engage in small talk or argument, the pace of our lives is such that the simple gestures of listening carefully and speaking prudently are amazingly rare. The Friday Night Salon aims at being an antidote to the urban pace that denies the civilizing graces of community. We begin with good food and drink, then take our places in a circle for discussion about a variety of topics. It's a welcome way to end the typical Dallas workweek. Topics for each Salon will be listed on the Institute website bulletin board.

Discussion topics for April 13, 2007:

1. The defining adjective of American culture is "excessive." True or False?
2. What is the future of work on planet Earth?
3. Are violence and religion inescapably linked?

Any input?

Happy Easter Memories

Enjoy this not-so-Easter song, "Shameless" by Ani DiFranco, as you read this post:

One of my favorite Easters of all time was the one when I went to Perry, Oklahoma with one of my favorite friends of all time, Carol B. This was another one of those goofy spur of the moment college trips that fit right in with the Roswell Alien Landing anniversary, and the moving sidewalk experience at the Shroud of the Virgin de Guadelupe(complete with twist top BVM head, the rest of her body filled with holy water). Several of us piled into a car and drove to Carol's parents house (which is actually two huge farm houses connected somehow) in the po-dunk, one horse town of Perry, OK.

Carol's family LOVES Easter, and every year her parents hide hundreds of plastic candy/prize filled eggs all over their very large farm. Everyone is then grouped by age and is sent out in waves for the hunt, littl'uns first, big'uns last. Also, there is one "grand prize" egg, which is HUGE (the size of a football) and is filled with extra goodies. You never know where the big egg will be! One time it was even buried!!

During this particular trip, I remember that Carol wanted us to attend the sunrise Easter service. She came running into the room at something like 4:00 AM and took a flying leap onto the bed I was sharing with my friend, Corrie. Carol was yelling, "He is risen! He is risen! The Lord is risen!!!" with arms and elbows and knees flailing. Too many bodies! Panic! Then came the steam-roller! Too many bodies! Choke, sputter, shock.

That has to be one of the worst ways to be woken up. Seriously, Carol!! Happy Easter, indeed!

Nevertheless we all threw on warm clothes and went to the outside sunrise service, my first and only, where we celebrated the miracle of the resurrection with whispered praise, all snuggled together in a moment that would always be remembered, and we were grateful to see the beauty of a sunrise with people we loved.

Also, from that trip, I remember eating at the famous Eskimo Joe's in Stillwater.

I remember playing the "heads on stomach laughing game", four of us laughing ourselves into content sleepiness and we actually did fall asleep. We took a long nap in our little dog pile outside on the grass in the warm sunshine.

I remember performing a Vaudeville song and dance routine for a cluster of cows who watched the whole number, paused, then turned all at the same moment and ran away in disgust! How rude! They should've been applauding. Really. When was the last time they actually had a vaudevillian act performed especially for them? Dude. Cows suck!

I remember four-wheelers, a trampoline, country breakfasts, and just being still. It was an AMAZING, restful trip!

Happy Easter, everyone!

Seven Songs

Lisa and Jen both shared the top seven songs that they've been listening to lately. Then Jen went and challenged me to pick my seven. This was really hard! I listen to all kinds of music, but I guess these get played on my MP3 more than the others:

Float On - Modest Mouse


Steady As She Goes - The Raconteurs


Six Underground - The Sneaker Pimps


Take Your Mama Out - The Scissor Sisters


Island in the Sun - Weezer


Say it Right - Nelly Furtado


The Remedy - Jason Mraz

Texas Bluebonnets

The Flower
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Once in a golden hour

I cast to earth a seed.

Up there came a flower,

The people said, a weed.

To and fro they went

Thro' my garden bower,

And muttering discontent

Cursed me and my flower.

Then it grew so tall

It wore a crown of light,

But thieves from o'er the wall

Stole the seed by night.

Sow'd it far and wide

By every town and tower,

Till all the people cried,

"Splendid is the flower!"

Read my little fable:

He that runs may read.

Most can raise the flowers now,

For all have got the seed.

And some are pretty enough,

And some are poor indeed;

And now again the people

Call it but a weed.

Mad World

First of all, I should begin by saying a few things in the name of disclaimer: 1. It's 3:45 in the morning. 2. I took cold medicine last night because I had a sore throat and I refuse to get whatever form of flu-bola is going around. 3. Because I took cold medicine my finger tips are numb - which happens to be a good thing because I shredded them all to ribbons yesterday while working with a particular piece of glass. So typing with numb, shredded fingers is proving a difficult task since it's like using the broad end of a "exposed nerve ending" spatula to hit each key. It's only sort of possible and thank God for the numb! Please excuse the typos. (I should use that excuse all of the time!)

Anyway. I woke up with an angry rage in my gut and needed to spill it here, right now, because I don't think (.) that I can go back to sleep until this bloody mosh pit of hodgepodge rant is out of me.

I realize that when a person is "doped-up" things may seem more circusy than usual, and in my world circusy is very familiar, but don't think I'm exaggerating when I suggest that the world has recently gone ape-shit bonkers. I've been to the dark side and back and very few things surprise me anymore, especially since I taught seventh grade (and I will totally bilk that for all it's worth). But here are some examples of sheer insanity that I ran across yesterday in the news:

1. An art exhibit called "Sweet Jesus"- which portrays a life size chocolate Jesus floating in the air, arms outstretched in the recognizable crucifix position- was not only canceled but was scoffed at, mercilessly put down, and heinously scandalized all because it was done in "bad taste."* The sculpture is naked, and it turns out that Jesus...how do I put this delicately... well, it turns out that Jesus had a PENIS! (gasp! hide the children!).

You would think that the patriarchy would be highlighting this fact and using it to their advantage (even making it bigger) in order to compensate for their own insecurities, or even better they could use that aggressive, "build it for total world domination" masculinity to um, I don't know, drop bombs on Iraq. Oh. Check. OK. Iran then..

But then again, maybe I'm off. Maybe ousting the nude Jesus has nothing to do with genitalia. Maybe the show was canceled because the sculpture was cast in dark chocolate, totally unacceptable for a sculpture of Jesus. After all, wasn't he more of a white chocolate Euro-American wall street republican? Oh wait. .

2. The world (and when I say the world, I mean Japan) is making a new beer out of a very unexpected agricultural product.
.
Got milk?
.
So as not to step on any one's toes, I'll simply give you this link, which will tell you all you need to know about Bilk (seriously, it's like "bile" mixed with "ick"). I'll simply say that I thought fermented milk was called cottage cheese..

Oh! and think of the marketing! Haley Joel Osment, Lindsey Lohan, or one of the Pitt-Jolie kids sporting a Bilk mustache... Brilliant!

3. Three words: Karl. Rove. Rap.
This has to be one of the scariest things I've ever seen in my entire life i think i'm going to die now because no run on sentence in the entire world could ever erase the picture that is now permanently seared in my brain and there is no comedian on the planet who could ever make it right by making fun of its abomination-ness more than its own abomination-ness so move over gloria estefan we have a new winner of the "things i cannot tolerate" award and now i must go shave my eyeballs and call a priest.

(feeling better..)

Before I woke-up to this post, I had a dream. I dreamed that heaven was surrounded by a salt-water moat filled with all kinds of scary creatures. I dreamed that I was supposed to lie on my back, look up at the irrational orange sky and float to get there. Just float. I was supposed to hope that the the current would get me there without me having to do anything but keep my feet up, so as not to be brought down and held under by the raging currents and creatures beneath the water's surface.

But. As usual, and since I'm me, I decided instead to tread water - to kick and fight and struggle and choke on the salty bilk.
.
I want to get there, I really do.
.
In the mean time, here is a message to the entire world:

World, unpack your white Nike tennis shoes, tie on that purple cape, and break out the "kool-aid". It's time. Here comes Hale Bop. Let's not miss it this time..

Madness!

And it's back to bed for me.

*Thanks to Christine for the link and for the pun