Here is a lovely and interesting poem that my friend Mark sent. It was written by his friend, Leon Felipe. Thank you, good friend Jamie, for helping to translate!


Y esa es la exégesis heroica,
la exégesis prometeica, la exégesis revolucionaria. Escuchad:
Hay que salvar al rico, hay que salvarle de la dictadurade su riqueza,
porque debajo de su riqueza hay un hombre que tiene
que entrar en el reino de los cielos,en el reino de los héroes.
Pero también hay que salvar al pobreporque debajo de la tiranía de su pobreza hay otro hombreque ha nacido para héroe también.
Hay que salvar al rico y al pobre ...
Hay que matar al rico y al pobre, para que nazca elHombre.
El Hombre, el Hombre es lo que importa.
Ni el riconi el pobre importan nada...
Ni el proletario
ni el diplomático
ni el industrial
ni el arzobispo
ni el comerciante
ni el soldado
ni el artista
ni el poeta en su sentido ordinario y domésticoimportan nada.
Nuestro oficio no es nuestro Destino.
"No hay otro oficio ni empleo que aquel que enseñaal hombre a ser un Hombre".
El Hombre es lo que importa.
El Hombre ahí, desnudo bajo la noche y frente al misterio,
con su tragedia a cuestas,
con su verdadera tragedia,
con su única tragedia...
la que surge, la que se alza cuando preguntamos,cuando gritamos en el viento.
¿Quién soy yo?
Y el viento no responde... Y no responde nadie.
¿Quién es el Hombre?...
Tal vez sea Cristo...
Por que el Cristo no ha muerto...
Y el Cristo no es el Rey, como quieren los cristerosy los católicos políticos y tramposos...
El Cristo es ‚el Hombre...
La sangre del Hombre...
de cualquier Hombre.
Esto lo afirmo. No lo pregunto.
¿No puedo yo afirmar?...



And that is the heroic exegesis,
The promised exegesis, the revolutionary exegesis. Listen:
You have to save the rich, save them from the dictatorship of their riches
because under their riches there is a man that has to enter into the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of heroes.
But also you have to save the poor because under the tyranny of their poverty there is another man that was born to be a hero also.
You have to save the rich and the poor…
You have to kill the rich and the poor in order to give birth to Man
Mankind, Mankind is what matters.
Neither the rich nor the poor matter at all.
Nor the proletarian.
Nor the diplomat
Nor the industrialist
Nor the archbishop
Nor the merchant
Nor the soldier
Nor the artist
Nor the poet in his [ordinary and domestic feeling] matters not
Our profession is not our Destiny.
“There is not another profession or job than this that can teach man to be a Mankind”
Mankind is what matters.
Mankind there, naked under the night and facing the mystery.
with its tragic tendencies
with its tragic truth
with its unified tragedy
That which surges, that which buzzes when we ask, when we call into the wind
Who am I?
And the wind doesn’t respond. It doesn’t respond at all.
Who is Mankind?
Sometimes he is Christ…
Because Christ is not dead…
And Christ is not the King, like the Christians, political Catholics, and liars want.
Christ is Mankind…
The blood of Mankind
Of any Mankind
This I believe. I do not question it.
Can I not believe?

Maybe this will start a thread of discussion.(?) :)

"Obedience by fear is not obedience." - Richard Haag

We actually got to spend some time outside today! Here are some pictures from our picnic at the lake!

What's that blue stuff called again?

This is how I play football.

This is how Rich plays football.

Rich was the actual model for this sign.

Look Christine! A tree! (and some blinding white legs!)

I will now follow suit and add to the interesting confessions and quirk telling lists that my friends have created on their blogs , thus furthering the idea that we are all INSANE (hysterical laughter....Because we like the insanity!) Thanks to Lisa for this awesome idea!!!
Here is a list of a few of my many quirks/confessions:

• I have an unusual, illogically angry reaction to any song by Gloria Estefan. I can't stomach anything that she says or sings. It's like Pavlov ringing a bell for the dog to salivate, only he wired me for tense anger and nausea at the sound of Estefan's voice.
• I can smell fall. I know when it is coming, just like people can forecast rain by the creaking of their joints. Fall is my absolute favorite season which is why it's stupid that I live where I live-in this autumnless city!
• I love to travel, especially to different countries where I can absorb new cultures. I try to go out of country every year, or at least every other year, but I am terrified of flying! It doesn't help that one of my friends is an engineer who does flight testing at Lockheed and he is also terrified of flying. After all, he knows the "idiots" who patch up planes. Still, I either put myself to sleep with medication or I drink wine before and during the flight in an effort to sedate myself; traveling is THAT important to me. I have held hands with complete strangers when flying solo, when the other two options are not available.
• I do not like cold, smelly lunch meat which makes sandwich eating difficult at my house. I say peanut butter or bust! If I do get snookered into eating a cold cut sandwich, I have to carefully dissect it - all extras have to be eaten separately, on the side. This is true for hamburgers, too, only I will eat cheese on a hamburger, whereas cheese on a cold sandwich must be removed immediately. Rich proudly orders, "a cheeseburger with not a damn thing on it" for me at the drive-through. (true love, sigh) I will only eat pizza if it is plain cheese, otherwise snap on the dissecting gloves.
• My favorite food is toast.
• I am shy about contributing my opinions in a collegiate setting or forum(which is why it's ironic and brave that I've joined a salon group), but I love to speak in front of and interact with students in a similar educational venue. In my defense, kids are a lot more forgiving...
• I love the dictionary, but I'm horrible at spelling and at retaining vocabulary.
• I am more devoted to my state than to my country (is that treason?), and my Texas flag is bigger than the US one in my classroom (I think that is against the law). I did not actively participate in the flag selection process, so this is simply a coincidence... Big Brother is watching! :) Oh, and don't tell anyone that I was actually born in New Mexico (sorry Annie...).
• I taste dirt in my mouth when I read American literature - I taste vomit when I read Faulkner. (Sorry to Christine for signing us up for a class where the pre-reading is Faulkner... I swear I didn't know!)
• I am long winded and have said "I" way too many times here... Better wrap this up.

Our LitMag class holds poetry readings during lunch sometimes. We sell Easy-Mac and popcorn, and enthusiastically read poetry with all who want to spend their free time with us. Sometimes people read their own, some read from books, and others choose to improvise. We sometimes create a group poem (all add a line), which can be hysterical, sometimes there is music, and of course, we end with a rousing receipt reading (any receipt will do, as long as it is read with gusto!); it's tradition! Anyway, today we had a poetry reading and I wanted to share with you a poem by Jorge Luis Borges. This was read by Kristen, one of my LitMaggers, and it was stunning! Enjoy!

Happiness

Whoever embraces a woman is Adam. The woman is Eve.
Everything happens for the first time.
I saw something white in the sky. They tell me it's the moon, but
What can I do with a word and a mythology.
Trees frighten me a little. They are so beautiful.
The calm animals come closer so that I may tell them their names.
The books in the libraries have no letters. They spring forth when I open them.
Leafing through the atlas I project the shape of Sumatra.
Whoever lights a match in the dark is inventing fire.
Inside the mirror an Other waits in ambush.
Whoever looks at the ocean sees England.
Whoever utters a line of Liliencron has entered into battle.
I have dreamed of Carthage and the legions that destroyed Catharge.
I have dreamed the sword and the scale.
Praised be the love wherein there is no possessor and no possessed, but both surrender.
Praised be the nightmare, which reveals to us that we have the power to create hell.
Whoever goes down to a river goes down to the Ganges.
Whoever looks at an hourglass sees the dissolution of an empire.
Whoever plays with a dagger foretells the death of Caesar.
Whoever dreams is every human being.
In the desert I saw the young Sphinx, which has just been sculpted.
There is nothing else so ancient under the sun.
Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal.
Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

As I sip my coffee, sift through miles and miles of meaningless and some meaningful information on the web, and as I think about all of the chores I need to do today before the work week begins, I find myself becoming tense in the shoulders, a little nauseated and ridiculously overwhelmed. What I am doing now (blogging and surfing) could probably be defined as stalling. I know I need to get up and grade, mow the grass, and wash some laundry, yet here I sit, worrying about what I need to do but haven't. Add in the guilt associated with my "laziness" and the guilt associated with the fact that I get to live in a suburban house in a prosperous country where I get to eat as much as I want, whenever I want, what you get is one miserable, sick, fretting girl... who is still idly sitting here. While I mentally flog myself for my lethargy, I get increasingly (and conflictingly) angry; I worked most of the day yesterday! I cleaned the house, graded some papers, and washed part 1 of the laundry! Where was my week-end? This is typical for me. I spend seven days a week actively working from 7:00 in the morning when I get to school, to sometimes 9:00 at night grading and planning for the next day. Still, I need the week-end for catch-up! No wonder I'm cranky(! )and how dare I feel this way when there are people on the planet who are starving, those who are homeless and those who are struggling from day to day! Then again, what's wrong with wasting some time on a Sunday morning, a day usually labeled "the day of rest"? I'm rambling, yes, but as I entertain, no, nurse my anxiety attack, I am reminded of the Gross National Happiness Index.
The GNH, according to Wikipedia is, "an attempt to define quality of life in more holistic and psychological terms than Gross National Product... The concept of GNH is based on the premise that true development of human society takes place when material and spiritual development occur side by side to complement and reinforce each other. The four pillars of GNH are the promotion of equitable and sustainable socio-economic development, preservation and promotion of cultural values, conservation of the natural environment, and establishment of good governance."
With this in mind, I took a survey given by the NEH, the New Economics Foundation, which is an index "dedicated to human well-being and environmental impact," and found that though I live in a prosperous nation, in a comfortable household, I may not be as happy with life as I ought to be. I work all of the time, waste, eat conveniently and have an overall low life satisfaction as a result. Maybe it's time to re-mold my ecological footprint (really, my ecological land fill), and maybe it's time for a personal reform! I can change the way I eat; I can conserve more energy; I can recycle and spend less money! I can enjoy life more and help my community, thus uplifting my spirit! Yes, this is exactly what I need to help me feel more happy and valuable! It's a private revolution, baby!!!!
And yet I sit, pop-tart in hand, knowing that I need to be grading.

Amy and me at Standard and Pours
Me getting ready for a night out...yep, those are stilletoes (thanks to Dutch's Sarah and our wild, Georgian shopping spree at Target)... I'm finally embracing my feminine side, as opposed to my skinned knee, tree climbing, hockey loving side.

Finally! It's the week-end. I wasn't sure I would make it what with research library day, grades due, and litmag submission DEADlines. Thank God for nights out on the town. I love to get a little sassy and head to Dallas or Ft. Worth so that I can pretend that I have lifestyle (flip phone and sun glasses required), and that is exactly what we did last night. Only last night was extremely special because I got to reconnect with some folks who are very, very dear to me, friends Amy and Neal! The evening started with a tour of nations at Trinity Hall, one of my favorite places to hang out. When I say tour of nations, I mean there were dueling musicians; outside of the Angelica there was an awesome samba/salsa/combo group and inside of Trinity, we had the typical Irish music, complete with River Dancing. (Which reminds me of the time my 7th graders were getting up too often and I made them River Dance when they did get up to sharpen their pencils or ask for a bathroom pass. This was an effort to keep them seated (because who would really River Dance in real life, right?), but instead I spent most of my day laughing at/with the little guys who took the instruction seriously and who really worked hard at dancing with their arms straight and furrowed brow over to the pencil sharpener. 7th graders don't always get sarcasm...) This would have been pretty fun, except the place was so packed that you pretty much had to stand over people while they were eating (literally get in their personal space)to make them uncomfortable enough to hurry so that you could get a table. How rude and, again, could be fun. Actually, this is how I sometimes meet people, but this evening was special and we had plans that involved timing. So, we ended up at Campisi's, Dallas's oldest pizza parlor for dinner. It rocked, as did the conversation and reconnection! After dinner we headed to a place called Standard and Pours where we heard one of Amy's college friends, Becky Middleton, sing. She was amazing!! I so enjoyed getting to hang out with Amy who actually is the friend I've known the longest. We often joked that she is 30 days older than me and those are the only sad, dark 30 days we haven't known each other. I want to kick my own ass for not keeping in touch better (has it really been 8 years?), but maybe now we can continue to hang out. So, we had a night out on the town... Mostly we had a night of reconnection. If I truly buy into the idea that the most valuable thing about this life is the human connection, then I need to be a better friend. That involves making more time for people (as opposed to the job!) and writing statements like, "I am too busy to talk now," less!
Amy and Neal, thanks for a fun night! I look forward to many more!

"Tell me baby what's your story
Where you come from
And where you wanna go this time
Tell me lover
Are you lonely
The thing we need is
Never all that hard to find
Tell me baby what's your story
Where do you come from
And where you wanna go this time
You're so lovely are you lonely
Giving up the innocence you left behind...

Three fingers in the honeycomb
You ring just like a xylophone
Devoted to the chromosome
The day that you left home"
Tell Me Baby
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Mars: Stadium Arcadium

I love to dance! I've always loved it! I remember as a little girl taking dance (ballet for 10 years, jazz and moden dance), teaching dance in the garage of my house to the neighborhood kids for a dollar a lesson (remember Jen?), and just dancing randomly in random places. Obviously, when I went to college, we went out dancing (I even met Rich dancing to Mysterious Ways by U2 at a street dance)at places called the Library (ha!) so that when parents called, we could honestly tell them that we were at the library... the club, that is. As an "adult" we continued the trend until we started running into students in Deep Ellum. So, now I have to resort to dancing at weddings and in my living room...by myself... OK, this is sounding a little pathetic, but I assure you it isn't. Music moves me. Dancing is an escape for me and I love the enegy, the sensuality, the fun!!! (Especially when I hear great music like the new Peppers album: Stadium Arcadium... GO BUY IT! and I am totally into the new Timberlake "Sexy Back" which is hilarious...I'm not usually THAT girl, but it's a fun album).

Vote for Kinky!!
Check out Kinky Friedman's website and his newest Kinkytoon (#3). Let's "de-wussify" Texas! Why the hell not!

A tribute to Just Don:
Any one who knows me knows that I have a little bit of country in me. The salt of the earth live in the flatlands of Texas and remind me that life is not about philosophy. It's not about politics. It's not about poetry or enlightenment or art or anything else that is grasping at air. Life is about people and the human connection that we can't take with us when we die.
On Wednesday I lost my Uncle Don. I am sad. He wasn't the typical uncle as far as uncles go, and some referred to him as a mix between Grizzly Adams and Willie Nelson. In fact, truth be told, I was a little scared of him sometimes (he seriously chased me numerous times with everything from weed-wackers, to dead snakes, to deer entrails, not to really get me, but to make fun of his "city-slicker" niece). He was a gun carryin', rattle snake killin', Harley ridin', rough around the edges good-ole-boy.
Don was a character and could tell a story like none other. Often he would get to talkin' over some cheap beer in Mimi's kitchen and those with names like Junior, Chief, Redneck, Clabber, Digger, Rebel, and Corney, would all join in. If we were lucky, Just Don (he wouldn't let me call him uncle... I was supposed to call him just Don...) would fry some sort of animal (don't ask, don't tell), bread and fry some "oakry" and make the best(!)white gravy on the planet! He was a comfort food culinary genius, though he would never let you near the stove when he was cooking! Don would even cook especially for me and my college friends at Tech, and for them, it was like stepping into another world. One time, I was told to de-feather the pheasant the boys had hunted that morning. I was supposed to wash the birds, stuff a jalapeno in the breast and wrap the whole thing in bacon. I got in trouble for making the birds too clean and I was the butt of several jokes that evening. It sounds really harsh, but if you made it into one of Don's stories, it meant that he really loved you, and to be loved by Don was awesome.
Don was the type of man who was there every time you needed him. This is a quality that VERY FEW have and I've only realized that recently. He was in the volunteer fire department in Crosbyton and people counted on him for so many things, too numerous to list. He was a rock of a man, physically and emotionally. His "Aw Hell", depending on the inflection, was his standard reaction to any bit of news, positive or negative. Don lit up the room with his presence. I realize I sound overly sentimental, but there is no embellishment here. To see rough-neck cowboys, motor cycle rebels, and people of all walks of life unable to hold back tears because of Don's death is proof of the kind of man Don was. He never met a stranger. We gave him the best send off we knew how: the fire whistle sounded all over town to assemble the funeral procession which consisted of flashing fire engines, Harleys, and pick-ups. We were surrounded by the whole town who came to stand in ankle deep mud and cold rain to wish him farewell.
I am having a difficult time assembling the right words here. There aren't any that would illustrate Don's character and his value. He was too young to go. He worked harder than his body would allow. He will be sorely missed. I loved him very, very much.