This is my fave Glee moment!!!
lyrics to Forget You / Cee-Lo
(Chorus)
I see you driving 'round town
With the girl I love and I'm like,
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
I guess the change in my pocket
Wasn't enough, I'm like,
Forget you!
And forget her too!
Said, if I was richer, I'd still be with ya
ha , aint that some shit?
ain't that some shit
And although there's pain in my chest
I still wish you the best with a...
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
Yeah I'm sorry, I can't afford a ferrari,
But that don't mean I can't get you there.
I guess he's an xbox and I'm more atari,
But the way you play your game ain't fair.
I pity the fooool that falls in love with you oh
(oh shit she's a gold digger)
Well
(just thought you should know n*!$&)
Ooooooh
I've got some news for you
Yeah go run and tell your little boyfriend
I see you driving 'round town
With the girl I love and I'm like,
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
I guess the change in my pocket
Wasn't enough, I'm like,
Forget you!
And forget her too!
Said, if I was richer, I'd still be with ya
ha , aint that some shh?
And although there's pain in my chest
I still wish you the best with a...
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
Now I know, that I had to borrow,
Beg and steal and lie and cheat.
Trying to keep ya, trying to please ya.
'Cause being in love with you ain't cheap.
now, I pity the fool that falls in love with you ohh
(oh shh she's a gold digger)
Well
(just thought you should know n*&$!)
Ooooooh
I've got some news for you
uh! I really hate your friend right now!
I see you driving 'round town
With the girl I love and I'm like,
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
I guess the change in my pocket
Wasn't enough, I'm like,
Forget you!
And forget her too!
Said, if I was richer, I'd still be with ya
ha , aint that some shh?
And although there's pain in my chest
I still wish you the best with a...
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
Now baby, baby, baby, why d'you wanna wanna hurt me so bad?
(so bad, so bad, so bad)
I tried to tell my mamma but she told me
"this is one for your dad"
(your dad, your dad, your dad)
Uh! Whhhy? Uh! Whhhy? Uh!
Whhhy lady? Oh! I love you
I still Love you!! Ohhhh...
I see you driving 'round town
With the girl I love and I'm like,
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
I guess the change in my pocket
Wasn't enough, I'm like,
Forget you!
And forget her too!
Said, if I was richer, I'd still be with ya
ha , aint that some shit?
And although there's pain in my chest
I still wish you the best with a...
Forget you!
Oo, oo, oooo
By Cee-Lo Green
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Why I hate STUPID white men
So although I am going through this nasty divorce (of sorts) process, my life still goes on. I mean it has to. In doing this I have been having some family drama since late last night and all day today. I won't get much into it except to say that in the end there were several e-mails exchanged between my uncle and me. Now, for anyone who knows anything about my family, I find them to be awesome and most accepting of me and the fact that I am a queer lesbian. While I am sure they take it in stride sometimes, I know that my mother and my brother love me very very much and are very cool about my life and the way I choose to go about living it. This is not to say being queer/lesbian is a choice, but I believe in a comprehensive view on the formation of sexuality (physiology, language, environment, performance) etc. This is not to air out my dirty family laundry, but I do think it is an important thing to write about, because it is about families, it is about communication, and the communication in itself could definitely be a place for further study in my life.
So the last e-mail I received from attempted to harangue me, saying that what I do in school isn't "real" because it isn't math or science. He also made sure to tell me that he doesn't hate me because I am a lesbian but because I am a mean person (which he also attributes to genetics-weird because we are related?) And then in the last paragraph proceeded to tell me that at least he has a son and that the dildos I use have no semen coming out of them, so I couldn't be a mother anyway. WTF?!? REALLY?!? GROSS! And last time I checked queers were still allowed in various ways to have children. Wow-low blows for sure.
This is why I hate STUPID white men. Now to clarify, not all white men are stupid, far from it. In fact my best friend and my roommate are both straight white men and I love them both very much. What I dislike are white men who try to define my life for me and tell me what I am and what I am not. I am also not a big fan of white men who refuse to acknowledge their power and privilege in this world (of course I am annoyed by anyone who cannot do this!) I am also super annoyed that my school, my job, my life were dismissed so incredibly hard. I mean really, really, math and science are the only real things? I would like to suggest that without communication we couldn't teach those things-in fact we could teach nothing-so really I am pretty sure communication research and study is important.
I proceeded to e-mail this letter which I will include here and then blocked all of his incoming e-mails. I apologize for the profanity and warn now that if it offends you-DO NOT READ IT!
My name is Kathryn-not Kathy-but you wouldn't know that about me,
because you know absolutely nothing about me.
You are a despicable, ignorant asshole. I don't hate all white men,
what I hate are STUPID white men who use things like sexual orientation
as fodder to hit a person below the belt (YOU!) I am in fact a very
nice person, except when assholes like you decide to engage in this
behavior simply out of sport and ignorance. In which case no I am not
the subservient little woman you appreciate. I speak my mind loudly,
and don't abide by the female codes of civility expected by you or
society. If that makes me mean, then I'm glad. I am not angry, nor
spiteful, unless it comes to people like you who refuse to acknowledge
their power and privilege in this world because they are simply too
ignorant to recognize it.
As for what I am getting a degree in, you have no idea what I am doing
or what I value-again in your ignorance you assume you can speak for
and at me, which is exactly why I do the work I do. To keep ignorant
douchebags like yourself from gaining any more power than you already
do. I'm also pretty sure you maybe have a B.A. and did nothing with
it or with your life-you are a loser-plain and simple. So when it
comes to doing REAL things, I am pretty sure you don't do them either,
in fact you do nothing but drugs and being in pain and wanting to die.
Yeah, that's a very decent life and role model you are setting for
your son.
You may actually be the worst parent I have ever seen. Kicking your
child while on family vacation-wow it's a wonder why they let people
like yourself procreate-this is where forced sterilization might
actually come in handy. It's honestly a shame, because your son is
suffering at your own hands and you fail to recognize that. But
again, being anything other than a loser is not your strong point-you
always have been and as far as I am concerned you always will be.
My sexuality is not up for debate or your insults you fucking asshole.
Fuck you.
the end.
To not end in this extremely negative way, I feel like at least I am strong enough to write something like this. I am a passionate person and I love what I do and I am good at it. And I don't abide by the codes of white female civility that says I need to be quite, and subservient to a man, I don't think that makes me mean. It makes me a strong, independent, fierce, and fabulous feminist, of which, I am very proud. So take that douchey white men of the world and for all you white men out there who are doing good work around your identity, power and privilege, I salute you. You are allies not foe and I have so much respect for that!
the end.
Love Kathyn
So the last e-mail I received from attempted to harangue me, saying that what I do in school isn't "real" because it isn't math or science. He also made sure to tell me that he doesn't hate me because I am a lesbian but because I am a mean person (which he also attributes to genetics-weird because we are related?) And then in the last paragraph proceeded to tell me that at least he has a son and that the dildos I use have no semen coming out of them, so I couldn't be a mother anyway. WTF?!? REALLY?!? GROSS! And last time I checked queers were still allowed in various ways to have children. Wow-low blows for sure.
This is why I hate STUPID white men. Now to clarify, not all white men are stupid, far from it. In fact my best friend and my roommate are both straight white men and I love them both very much. What I dislike are white men who try to define my life for me and tell me what I am and what I am not. I am also not a big fan of white men who refuse to acknowledge their power and privilege in this world (of course I am annoyed by anyone who cannot do this!) I am also super annoyed that my school, my job, my life were dismissed so incredibly hard. I mean really, really, math and science are the only real things? I would like to suggest that without communication we couldn't teach those things-in fact we could teach nothing-so really I am pretty sure communication research and study is important.
I proceeded to e-mail this letter which I will include here and then blocked all of his incoming e-mails. I apologize for the profanity and warn now that if it offends you-DO NOT READ IT!
My name is Kathryn-not Kathy-but you wouldn't know that about me,
because you know absolutely nothing about me.
You are a despicable, ignorant asshole. I don't hate all white men,
what I hate are STUPID white men who use things like sexual orientation
as fodder to hit a person below the belt (YOU!) I am in fact a very
nice person, except when assholes like you decide to engage in this
behavior simply out of sport and ignorance. In which case no I am not
the subservient little woman you appreciate. I speak my mind loudly,
and don't abide by the female codes of civility expected by you or
society. If that makes me mean, then I'm glad. I am not angry, nor
spiteful, unless it comes to people like you who refuse to acknowledge
their power and privilege in this world because they are simply too
ignorant to recognize it.
As for what I am getting a degree in, you have no idea what I am doing
or what I value-again in your ignorance you assume you can speak for
and at me, which is exactly why I do the work I do. To keep ignorant
douchebags like yourself from gaining any more power than you already
do. I'm also pretty sure you maybe have a B.A. and did nothing with
it or with your life-you are a loser-plain and simple. So when it
comes to doing REAL things, I am pretty sure you don't do them either,
in fact you do nothing but drugs and being in pain and wanting to die.
Yeah, that's a very decent life and role model you are setting for
your son.
You may actually be the worst parent I have ever seen. Kicking your
child while on family vacation-wow it's a wonder why they let people
like yourself procreate-this is where forced sterilization might
actually come in handy. It's honestly a shame, because your son is
suffering at your own hands and you fail to recognize that. But
again, being anything other than a loser is not your strong point-you
always have been and as far as I am concerned you always will be.
My sexuality is not up for debate or your insults you fucking asshole.
Fuck you.
the end.
To not end in this extremely negative way, I feel like at least I am strong enough to write something like this. I am a passionate person and I love what I do and I am good at it. And I don't abide by the codes of white female civility that says I need to be quite, and subservient to a man, I don't think that makes me mean. It makes me a strong, independent, fierce, and fabulous feminist, of which, I am very proud. So take that douchey white men of the world and for all you white men out there who are doing good work around your identity, power and privilege, I salute you. You are allies not foe and I have so much respect for that!
the end.
Love Kathyn
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
6 weeks and breathing--and music
At six weeks, I feel re-punched in the stomach and that the break-up is finally real. So much of me was waiting to make it through Christmas, because well, I just had to. But Christmas was so hard having to see her, every time anything happened, I almost burst into tears. I held it in to the last possible moment. Then after sobbing a good while on my mother's bed, I felt the need to return to my home in the City, and just debrief with myself. Since then it has been a matter of days (3) since cutting off all contact with my ex-something everyone has encouraged me to do in order to move on. I congratulate myself with every hour, because that is how hard it is to deal with. "You can only control yourself." "Doing this will make you feel empowered." I have to admit with every minute that passes without a call, text, or e-mail, I do feel better. And the other thing that makes it better is knowing that I have the power to do this indefinitely. I could never make contact again, which, at this point is an appealing option.
But since this post is about breathing--and music. I have been getting ragged on for my sad country song posts on the fb (nothing like some sad country music to mend a mangled heart.) In fact I received a list of music, "to change things up a bit." ;-) So I included them into my "Breaking Up is Hard to Do" playlist. And as an Ani DiFranco lover, the first one on the list, "Rock, Paper, Scissors" has really got me because of the amazing lyrics, which, are posted at the bottom. Portions highlighted for emphasis.
But, it is at this moment, as I lay in freshly washed sheets, pondering a shower, I know I will be ok. But part of my being o.k. is continuing to be really hurt, angry, and frustrated for the way I was and continue to be treated. And the only solution I have is cutting someone off. I am open to other suggestions, but I tried the let's be friends right away" and I just don't think it is possible. It's like the line at the end of "Twenty-Something Girls vs. Thirty-Something Women" (and yes, I see the irony as being a person who is only 27!!!) Carrie ends the episode saying, "And then I realised something, twenty-something girls are just fabulous, until you see one with the [wo]man who broke your heart." And that is the trouble, if I didn't feel like a washed a worn piece of someone's midlife crisis, maybe it would be different! I would love to hear anyone's suggestions for A.) How to handle the post-breakup and B.) Good breakup songs that are encapsulating of both sadness and empowering. Get on it!
So here's my first song for myself in this series.
Ani DiFranco, Rock, Paper, Scissors
it's rock paper scissors as to whether i will get over you at all. it's
hand against hand and both hands are mine. it's standing in a circular line,
which is not to say that i'm not also happy. a happy meal with a surprise
inside. surprise, surprise is another bright light in my eyes, exposing all
the stuff i'm not calculating enough to hide. this melancholy that i carry
makes me feel so grown up at the kitchen table doing shots of resignation. i
never thought i'd see the day when i would i say i give up and tame the
stallions of my wildest expectations. but i do not want to know you this way,
surrounded by so much pain. but how am i supposed to let go of you this way,
like a bird into the sky of my brain? i think i could accept all these dark
colors as just part of some bigger color scheme if it wasn't for that drippy
string quartet of sadness underscoring each smiling scene. yeah desire drags
me right out of myself like a gas soaked rope tied to a piece of coal. and i'm
getting pretty good at looking at the bright side while the flames ripple on
the sand and swallow me whole. but this melancholy that i carry makes me feel
so grown up at my kitchen table doing shots of resignation. i never thought
i'd see the day when i would say i give up and break the stallions of my
wildest expectations. but i do not want to know you this way surrounded by so
much pain/ but how am i supposed to let go of you this way like a bird into
the sky of my brain.
here's a video, which, I think was created by the same person who sent me the list of songs. I could be wrong, but I am thinking not so much.
But since this post is about breathing--and music. I have been getting ragged on for my sad country song posts on the fb (nothing like some sad country music to mend a mangled heart.) In fact I received a list of music, "to change things up a bit." ;-) So I included them into my "Breaking Up is Hard to Do" playlist. And as an Ani DiFranco lover, the first one on the list, "Rock, Paper, Scissors" has really got me because of the amazing lyrics, which, are posted at the bottom. Portions highlighted for emphasis.
But, it is at this moment, as I lay in freshly washed sheets, pondering a shower, I know I will be ok. But part of my being o.k. is continuing to be really hurt, angry, and frustrated for the way I was and continue to be treated. And the only solution I have is cutting someone off. I am open to other suggestions, but I tried the let's be friends right away" and I just don't think it is possible. It's like the line at the end of "Twenty-Something Girls vs. Thirty-Something Women" (and yes, I see the irony as being a person who is only 27!!!) Carrie ends the episode saying, "And then I realised something, twenty-something girls are just fabulous, until you see one with the [wo]man who broke your heart." And that is the trouble, if I didn't feel like a washed a worn piece of someone's midlife crisis, maybe it would be different! I would love to hear anyone's suggestions for A.) How to handle the post-breakup and B.) Good breakup songs that are encapsulating of both sadness and empowering. Get on it!
So here's my first song for myself in this series.
Ani DiFranco, Rock, Paper, Scissors
it's rock paper scissors as to whether i will get over you at all. it's
hand against hand and both hands are mine. it's standing in a circular line,
which is not to say that i'm not also happy. a happy meal with a surprise
inside. surprise, surprise is another bright light in my eyes, exposing all
the stuff i'm not calculating enough to hide. this melancholy that i carry
makes me feel so grown up at the kitchen table doing shots of resignation. i
never thought i'd see the day when i would i say i give up and tame the
stallions of my wildest expectations. but i do not want to know you this way,
surrounded by so much pain. but how am i supposed to let go of you this way,
like a bird into the sky of my brain? i think i could accept all these dark
colors as just part of some bigger color scheme if it wasn't for that drippy
string quartet of sadness underscoring each smiling scene. yeah desire drags
me right out of myself like a gas soaked rope tied to a piece of coal. and i'm
getting pretty good at looking at the bright side while the flames ripple on
the sand and swallow me whole. but this melancholy that i carry makes me feel
so grown up at my kitchen table doing shots of resignation. i never thought
i'd see the day when i would say i give up and break the stallions of my
wildest expectations. but i do not want to know you this way surrounded by so
much pain/ but how am i supposed to let go of you this way like a bird into
the sky of my brain.
here's a video, which, I think was created by the same person who sent me the list of songs. I could be wrong, but I am thinking not so much.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Those Old Songs
I am trying to learn to love those songs when you aren't singing them to me.
"Peaches in the summer
Apples in the fall
If I can't have you all the time
I won't have none at all"*
I can't listen.
Was going to put it on a cd
for someone else
Threw the whole thing off,
so I didn't.
And I am trying to decide if taking other people on our date is ethical.
Snow falling.
Short drive over mountain road.
Pancakes and Bacon
Coffee
Keep it coming
Stopping for water.
Fill tin bottles.
Have you already taken her there?
I am trying to figure out how to listen to those old songs?
The ones we danced to in our living room.
Old 45's scratching through.
I am trying to understand how I could ever go back there?
It's your place too.
"I know this bar..."**
But it isn't.
I first heard that song with you.
I am trying to decide where it went so wrong?
You couldn't function,
making it so I can't function now.
You said maybe it would be you someday.
Our paths separated.
I never noticed.
Wound so soon with someone new.
Wounded so soon with someone new.
*The lovely words of Gillian Welch
**Ani DiFranco
"Peaches in the summer
Apples in the fall
If I can't have you all the time
I won't have none at all"*
I can't listen.
Was going to put it on a cd
for someone else
Threw the whole thing off,
so I didn't.
And I am trying to decide if taking other people on our date is ethical.
Snow falling.
Short drive over mountain road.
Pancakes and Bacon
Coffee
Keep it coming
Stopping for water.
Fill tin bottles.
Have you already taken her there?
I am trying to figure out how to listen to those old songs?
The ones we danced to in our living room.
Old 45's scratching through.
I am trying to understand how I could ever go back there?
It's your place too.
"I know this bar..."**
But it isn't.
I first heard that song with you.
I am trying to decide where it went so wrong?
You couldn't function,
making it so I can't function now.
You said maybe it would be you someday.
Our paths separated.
I never noticed.
Wound so soon with someone new.
Wounded so soon with someone new.
*The lovely words of Gillian Welch
**Ani DiFranco
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Indigo Girls Holly Happy Days
I am loving the new Indigo Girls, "Holly Happy Days" so here is a little tribute to it!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Post-breakup-Pick-Me-Up
Ah I think I am at five weeks today. Still plugging along. But I have been having lots of thoughts about a post from a couple weeks ago about being friends with an ex.
A while ago, three years-ish, I had an ex, who similar to me now was dumped for someone else (by me). I could sugar coat it in some Starbuck's white chocolate flavoring, but in the end, yes, it was for someone else. As my former ex did to me. Anyway this ex of mine said,(and it seemed cold-hearted at the time, but now I think it is brilliant!), "I cannot be friends with you until you have had your heart broken like this." Meaning, until your ass has been left somewhere in the cold for someone else you will NOT get it.
Now, I think she was/is right on! Because you cannot know what it feels like to be dumped and left until it has happened to you. Of course, it sucks! In fact, I think that without this other person, my breakup would be entirely different than what it is. I think I would be able to accept it in an entirely different way. How can I be expected to be friends with the person who left me for someone else and how effing crazy do you have to be to think that somewhere, five weeks later, that anyone (me specifically) could be friends with the person that I was left for? Yeah, maybe is Sunshine, Lollipops, and Daisy Land (which, is often confused for Estes Park, I admit), but I'm sorry not five weeks later, not even five and a half weeks. This is not a throw everything in the pot, add alcohol (and other intoxicants) and see how it turns out in the end. The sight will not be pretty, that I guarantee. It is not because I am not evolved or enlightened enough, it is because I got fucked over and I don't really want that rubbed in my face, especially on Christmas.
The fact is, when I see a Mini Cooper (especially red and in Estes Park, but that isn't even a necessity) I want to smash it. Metaphorically most of the time, but physically at other times. And I am not a violent person but this situation makes me want to, well, smash things. I can rationalize the break up in so many ways. We were going different directions, we have different values, we live in different places, but in the end, it comes down to the fact that she has a Post-breakup-Pick-Me-Up. This is something I do not have. And yes, it make me have irrational bursts of anger, plotting the destruction of this other human. In the end the couple of times I have seen her, I have ignored her, or simply done nothing, because really? What is the point? In the end neither one of them is worth that kind of anger. But yes, I am angry. Still. Five weeks later.
In the end I know it is good that I have no Post-breakup-Pick-Me-Up. I am going to be the person to grow, to be able to rely on myself, to figure out what I want in my relationships, not simply fill in a void that exists because of my previous relationship's demise. But, for right now, trying to breathe through this is somewhat excruciating, which, my therapist assures me is a good thing. Wallow in your misery, he tells me, or at least experience your feelings without putting judgement on them. Like, I feel lonely, versus, feeling lonely sucks.
So, can you be friends with an ex? "Not until they have had their heart broken like this."
A while ago, three years-ish, I had an ex, who similar to me now was dumped for someone else (by me). I could sugar coat it in some Starbuck's white chocolate flavoring, but in the end, yes, it was for someone else. As my former ex did to me. Anyway this ex of mine said,(and it seemed cold-hearted at the time, but now I think it is brilliant!), "I cannot be friends with you until you have had your heart broken like this." Meaning, until your ass has been left somewhere in the cold for someone else you will NOT get it.
Now, I think she was/is right on! Because you cannot know what it feels like to be dumped and left until it has happened to you. Of course, it sucks! In fact, I think that without this other person, my breakup would be entirely different than what it is. I think I would be able to accept it in an entirely different way. How can I be expected to be friends with the person who left me for someone else and how effing crazy do you have to be to think that somewhere, five weeks later, that anyone (me specifically) could be friends with the person that I was left for? Yeah, maybe is Sunshine, Lollipops, and Daisy Land (which, is often confused for Estes Park, I admit), but I'm sorry not five weeks later, not even five and a half weeks. This is not a throw everything in the pot, add alcohol (and other intoxicants) and see how it turns out in the end. The sight will not be pretty, that I guarantee. It is not because I am not evolved or enlightened enough, it is because I got fucked over and I don't really want that rubbed in my face, especially on Christmas.
The fact is, when I see a Mini Cooper (especially red and in Estes Park, but that isn't even a necessity) I want to smash it. Metaphorically most of the time, but physically at other times. And I am not a violent person but this situation makes me want to, well, smash things. I can rationalize the break up in so many ways. We were going different directions, we have different values, we live in different places, but in the end, it comes down to the fact that she has a Post-breakup-Pick-Me-Up. This is something I do not have. And yes, it make me have irrational bursts of anger, plotting the destruction of this other human. In the end the couple of times I have seen her, I have ignored her, or simply done nothing, because really? What is the point? In the end neither one of them is worth that kind of anger. But yes, I am angry. Still. Five weeks later.
In the end I know it is good that I have no Post-breakup-Pick-Me-Up. I am going to be the person to grow, to be able to rely on myself, to figure out what I want in my relationships, not simply fill in a void that exists because of my previous relationship's demise. But, for right now, trying to breathe through this is somewhat excruciating, which, my therapist assures me is a good thing. Wallow in your misery, he tells me, or at least experience your feelings without putting judgement on them. Like, I feel lonely, versus, feeling lonely sucks.
So, can you be friends with an ex? "Not until they have had their heart broken like this."
Monday, December 13, 2010
One month down...
Well...it is almost one month into single-dom. Everyone keeps asking if it is getting easier and parts of it definitely are getting easier. However, there are other pieces that are just setting in...mainly being lonely and not just having someone to talk to everyday. I think that is the hardest-this learning to be alone stuff. While I am ok with being alone most of the time...it is well...lonely. Yet, I am never really that alone, I have a roommate/s, and a slew of friends, just had a great birthday/party and have been getting to know a million new people. Unfortunately, just being around people doesn't always make me feel so un-lonely but the constant movement does seem to help relieve my mind and angst a bit. It has been 9-10 years that I haven't been single, so learning to trust myself, and mostly trust myself to be o.k. being alone, is the greatest challenge.
What is getting easier: my love affair with the city. While I miss the mountains terribly and my life there, I realize how many great things Denver has to offer. Great people, restaurants, music, vintage shopping, sexy workshops/crafts, even church that doesn't completely scare me. This city has beauty to offer a girl like me. So I'm learning to try to breathe through this new reinvention of myself, mainly because I have to. However, I am getting better at it by now. It seems that I am some sort of nomad who changes her life every three years: and it isn't like a new haircut reinvention, it's more of a life overhaul. So I am learning to love this about myself; I am adaptable wherever I go. Despite this I Still Miss Someone. And that's where this blog leaves off...thinking of how the past shapes my present and with the lyrics of the Joy Kill Sorrow song not available, I am simply posting the chorus and a link to hear the song. This is a band I heard at Rocky Mountain Folks Fest this year and the voice of the lead singer both haunts and uplifts me. I am pretty much obsessed with them right now.
I Still Miss Someone, Joy Kill Sorrow
Well, I'll never forget those blue eyes
That follow me wherever I go
And miss those arms that held me
And all other love
That was there*
*I think this is what she is saying; it sort of trails off towards the end.
What is getting easier: my love affair with the city. While I miss the mountains terribly and my life there, I realize how many great things Denver has to offer. Great people, restaurants, music, vintage shopping, sexy workshops/crafts, even church that doesn't completely scare me. This city has beauty to offer a girl like me. So I'm learning to try to breathe through this new reinvention of myself, mainly because I have to. However, I am getting better at it by now. It seems that I am some sort of nomad who changes her life every three years: and it isn't like a new haircut reinvention, it's more of a life overhaul. So I am learning to love this about myself; I am adaptable wherever I go. Despite this I Still Miss Someone. And that's where this blog leaves off...thinking of how the past shapes my present and with the lyrics of the Joy Kill Sorrow song not available, I am simply posting the chorus and a link to hear the song. This is a band I heard at Rocky Mountain Folks Fest this year and the voice of the lead singer both haunts and uplifts me. I am pretty much obsessed with them right now.
I Still Miss Someone, Joy Kill Sorrow
Well, I'll never forget those blue eyes
That follow me wherever I go
And miss those arms that held me
And all other love
That was there*
*I think this is what she is saying; it sort of trails off towards the end.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Can you be friends with an ex?
It is amazing that as a single gal, I now appreciate Sex and the City in a very different way. This is not to say I glorify, or idealize it, more or less, it is still problematically white, upperclass, post-feminst, feminism, surrounded by the potential for some female empowerment. Potential mind you.
What I notice most now, is how the break up story lines play out. In some situations, people who are dating just stop calling and it's over-poof. Other relationships like Carrie/Big or Carrie/Aidan have a bit more in depth look into the break up. I don't necessarily look for advice or the word of God or anything-but there are some parallels especially between my break up and the second break-up of Carrie and Big. It's apropos really.
In the final ep of season 2, Carrie poses the question: Can you be friends with an ex? And since I am currently in that state of affairs (trying to say friends, while still feeling emotionally exhausted from the relationship) I have to wonder something similar. I feel like I want to be the cool chick who gets it (it's best for both of us blah blah blah) but, how can a friendship happen, when the pain hasn't even subsided? And how can you let something go that is so ever-present in your life? If one person is set on releasing, while the other wants accountability and acknowledgement for the hurt that has been caused, is it possible to continue along with any sort of relationship? At 3 weeks and a day post- break-up, is it too soon to move from Romantic Love-ville to Friend City U.S.A.?
No answers yet, but I am posting this videos which I love from both SatC and The Way We Were
What I notice most now, is how the break up story lines play out. In some situations, people who are dating just stop calling and it's over-poof. Other relationships like Carrie/Big or Carrie/Aidan have a bit more in depth look into the break up. I don't necessarily look for advice or the word of God or anything-but there are some parallels especially between my break up and the second break-up of Carrie and Big. It's apropos really.
In the final ep of season 2, Carrie poses the question: Can you be friends with an ex? And since I am currently in that state of affairs (trying to say friends, while still feeling emotionally exhausted from the relationship) I have to wonder something similar. I feel like I want to be the cool chick who gets it (it's best for both of us blah blah blah) but, how can a friendship happen, when the pain hasn't even subsided? And how can you let something go that is so ever-present in your life? If one person is set on releasing, while the other wants accountability and acknowledgement for the hurt that has been caused, is it possible to continue along with any sort of relationship? At 3 weeks and a day post- break-up, is it too soon to move from Romantic Love-ville to Friend City U.S.A.?
No answers yet, but I am posting this videos which I love from both SatC and The Way We Were
Friday, December 3, 2010
Tips for a successful breakup
Here's to being alone but not lonely
and
Treating friends like lovers and lovers like friends (I don't know who wrote this, but a friend articulated it to me the other night).
So, again, working through my break up I have decided to post some tips for a successful parting that keeps things more than civil and potentially amicable:
1.) The sooner the better. Don't drag the bandaid, rip it and have it remain ripped. This means sticking to what you say. While this is going to suck, it is the only way to breathe and get your message across, and eventually become friends (if you even want that). I would recommend at least starting to talk about the breakup prior to the actual parting-simply because if you love the person and have respect for them, it is wise to be fair and honest.
2.) In a similar vein, don't totally surprise the pants off of the person by breaking the news with no hints of feeling this way prior. See number one for reason why.
3.) Do it before there is a possibility of being someone else (that is more than a crush/make out). I say this because if you are unhappy and become tempted, the other person can be a good catalyst for a breakup, but in the end makes you look like a jerk to the other person and probably feel like a jerk to yourself because you know the "real" reasons why you broke up, but the other person has a nasty taste in their mouth from the cheat (or even potential cheat.)
4.) Do it in person, not via phone, e-mail, or text. If you can sleep with someone, you can break up with them face-to-face.
5.) Do not drop the "It's not you it's me" line because it doesn't work in the end. Instead, propose it as something that just isn't working out, that you are not ready for a committed relationship, or that it is circumstantial (meaning if circumstances were different, your relationship might also be different. Also, it always helps to reassure that person that they were really good to you (if they were), that you love (or have strong like) for them. The person will still feel inadequate, but being authentic and not dropping a cheesy one-liner is the respectful thing to do.
6.) In the end remember it is about you and not the other person. If you are unhappy and cannot get out of that slump, then you should definitely do this and save yourself the painful, explosion that will happen should you wait too long. I will say that this is an extremely hard realization, but in the end you have learned about yourself and what you want in your life.
7.) So it is not bad to do this to someone, it is bad to do this to someone you care about in the wrong way. It is important to be generous when doing this breaking up stuff so that you do not regret your words/actions/behaviors down the road.
8.) Even in the end, there are going to be hurt feelings and expect to get a letter like the link.
and
Treating friends like lovers and lovers like friends (I don't know who wrote this, but a friend articulated it to me the other night).
So, again, working through my break up I have decided to post some tips for a successful parting that keeps things more than civil and potentially amicable:
1.) The sooner the better. Don't drag the bandaid, rip it and have it remain ripped. This means sticking to what you say. While this is going to suck, it is the only way to breathe and get your message across, and eventually become friends (if you even want that). I would recommend at least starting to talk about the breakup prior to the actual parting-simply because if you love the person and have respect for them, it is wise to be fair and honest.
2.) In a similar vein, don't totally surprise the pants off of the person by breaking the news with no hints of feeling this way prior. See number one for reason why.
3.) Do it before there is a possibility of being someone else (that is more than a crush/make out). I say this because if you are unhappy and become tempted, the other person can be a good catalyst for a breakup, but in the end makes you look like a jerk to the other person and probably feel like a jerk to yourself because you know the "real" reasons why you broke up, but the other person has a nasty taste in their mouth from the cheat (or even potential cheat.)
4.) Do it in person, not via phone, e-mail, or text. If you can sleep with someone, you can break up with them face-to-face.
5.) Do not drop the "It's not you it's me" line because it doesn't work in the end. Instead, propose it as something that just isn't working out, that you are not ready for a committed relationship, or that it is circumstantial (meaning if circumstances were different, your relationship might also be different. Also, it always helps to reassure that person that they were really good to you (if they were), that you love (or have strong like) for them. The person will still feel inadequate, but being authentic and not dropping a cheesy one-liner is the respectful thing to do.
6.) In the end remember it is about you and not the other person. If you are unhappy and cannot get out of that slump, then you should definitely do this and save yourself the painful, explosion that will happen should you wait too long. I will say that this is an extremely hard realization, but in the end you have learned about yourself and what you want in your life.
7.) So it is not bad to do this to someone, it is bad to do this to someone you care about in the wrong way. It is important to be generous when doing this breaking up stuff so that you do not regret your words/actions/behaviors down the road.
8.) Even in the end, there are going to be hurt feelings and expect to get a letter like the link.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Keeping it on the up and up
So, yes, after two weeks to the day+1, I am writing about break ups. This is not to defame ANYONE, really it isn't. But I feel like I have had this conversation with people a lot over the past two weeks, and I want to write about it. In a Carrie Bradshaw-esque moment (and yes, I have been religiously watching season 2) I ask: when is it the friends' responsibility to tell you what the fuck your significant other may or may not be doing with someone else when you are not around? I preface this with a caveat, which is, not all relationships are monogamous(2 people in a loving committed hetero/homo normative relationship), I don't even pretend to think that this is a norm for everyone, but if you have established monogamous norms, for your relationship, and especially if mutual friends are involved, do they have a responsibility to divulge when a little "sunthin sunthin" is happening to your unsuspecting mind?
When having these conversations, I have received varied response: some people not wanting to get involved in the private relationships of others; others feel a sense of gratitude when someone told them; while others do not tell out of more loyalty to one person over the other; while yet another feels the need to tell out of necessity for authentic community building. These are just a few of the responses, and honestly, I cannot say I have ever officially been put in a situation, although I tend to make my speculations about these things known. But why do I do this?
Because to me, no matter how hard you try to keep your relationship private, relationships are always public. Your friends/family/strangers on the street help build and maintain healthy functioning relationships. So these folks know many of the interworkings (although not all, and many would deny their involvement), especially if and when you fight in front of them, but relationships are public for many reasons. To me this is because relationships build off of affective ties to one another, impulses of relationality that drive people together or apart. So this complicates things right? I mean if relationships are public, then when you begin to form new relationships with people, the energy-the chemistry-the affective impulse becomes recognizable, even if you are pretending it is not there. Now, this is something people who are closer to the relationship, like friends and family can pretend not to detect, but affect is PUBLIC, so it is there. To me this also means, that the relationship becomes open for some sort of public consumption/judgement and thus, it is free reign for people to talk about, especially to the other person who is in the relationship. So once these affective ties are noticed, is there any responsibility for these outside folks to intervene.
Traditional marriage values would say yes. At weddings they always ask the crowd/audience/churchy folks if they will support the relationship that is being sanctioned by the state and often the church. While, I am not for these rigid confines of religion, there is something to be said about making relationships public. There are also problematics with this, only some people are allowed to make the relations public while others are not, or because certain relationships are more valued than others. So I don't want to fall on this faulty logic outright but, it seems a smart way to go to have those around you who care about you, keeping your best interest at heart. And this shouldn't have to be achieved through a wedding or marriage either.
Of course, there are moral and ethical implications and no one really likes being the center of conflict or controversy. But I'm gonna go ahead and throw this out there. Even if there are mutual friends, PICK A SIDE! Of course this reinforces a binary of one or the other and isn't as transgressive as many of my queer political leanings would normally entail, but when a break-up happens, (and only temporarily perhaps) PICK A SIDE!
My advisor's signature line of her e-mail reads, "Refusal to take a moral stand is itself a powerful statement of one's moral position" (Dwight Conquergood). And in the sense of break-ups there should be no less commitment to taking a stand for one side or the other. I am not saying it needs to be that way forever, but the dumb thing is, people choose sides all the time and then say they are not choosing those sides. So just be honest: You knew the other person longer, you don't like the one who was a cheater pants, you are more loyal, whatever...but pick a side. It's ok, in this white civil world to sometimes take a stand and break those stupid norms. Plus, the person who was broken up with, probably needs some friends who hate the dumper-at least for a minute. Be that friend/family member and then let the dumpee decide when you can stop the hating and start the reloving. If you are the dumper, you should recognize that this is o.k. for the time being. Sometimes friendship isn't a free for all and you have to take one for the team. That's what a good friend would do...
When having these conversations, I have received varied response: some people not wanting to get involved in the private relationships of others; others feel a sense of gratitude when someone told them; while others do not tell out of more loyalty to one person over the other; while yet another feels the need to tell out of necessity for authentic community building. These are just a few of the responses, and honestly, I cannot say I have ever officially been put in a situation, although I tend to make my speculations about these things known. But why do I do this?
Because to me, no matter how hard you try to keep your relationship private, relationships are always public. Your friends/family/strangers on the street help build and maintain healthy functioning relationships. So these folks know many of the interworkings (although not all, and many would deny their involvement), especially if and when you fight in front of them, but relationships are public for many reasons. To me this is because relationships build off of affective ties to one another, impulses of relationality that drive people together or apart. So this complicates things right? I mean if relationships are public, then when you begin to form new relationships with people, the energy-the chemistry-the affective impulse becomes recognizable, even if you are pretending it is not there. Now, this is something people who are closer to the relationship, like friends and family can pretend not to detect, but affect is PUBLIC, so it is there. To me this also means, that the relationship becomes open for some sort of public consumption/judgement and thus, it is free reign for people to talk about, especially to the other person who is in the relationship. So once these affective ties are noticed, is there any responsibility for these outside folks to intervene.
Traditional marriage values would say yes. At weddings they always ask the crowd/audience/churchy folks if they will support the relationship that is being sanctioned by the state and often the church. While, I am not for these rigid confines of religion, there is something to be said about making relationships public. There are also problematics with this, only some people are allowed to make the relations public while others are not, or because certain relationships are more valued than others. So I don't want to fall on this faulty logic outright but, it seems a smart way to go to have those around you who care about you, keeping your best interest at heart. And this shouldn't have to be achieved through a wedding or marriage either.
Of course, there are moral and ethical implications and no one really likes being the center of conflict or controversy. But I'm gonna go ahead and throw this out there. Even if there are mutual friends, PICK A SIDE! Of course this reinforces a binary of one or the other and isn't as transgressive as many of my queer political leanings would normally entail, but when a break-up happens, (and only temporarily perhaps) PICK A SIDE!
My advisor's signature line of her e-mail reads, "Refusal to take a moral stand is itself a powerful statement of one's moral position" (Dwight Conquergood). And in the sense of break-ups there should be no less commitment to taking a stand for one side or the other. I am not saying it needs to be that way forever, but the dumb thing is, people choose sides all the time and then say they are not choosing those sides. So just be honest: You knew the other person longer, you don't like the one who was a cheater pants, you are more loyal, whatever...but pick a side. It's ok, in this white civil world to sometimes take a stand and break those stupid norms. Plus, the person who was broken up with, probably needs some friends who hate the dumper-at least for a minute. Be that friend/family member and then let the dumpee decide when you can stop the hating and start the reloving. If you are the dumper, you should recognize that this is o.k. for the time being. Sometimes friendship isn't a free for all and you have to take one for the team. That's what a good friend would do...
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Holcomb County
2:13. Alarm set. Magistrate from Holcomb county. Always odd. Piece of you that lingers. Pressing, strung so tight. Nothing slips. Aromatage. Should be a word. Dry smells that stay. Yellow in you.
I stopped tonight to look at the moon. Bright, fresh night, wound up. I want to be wound with that darkness, but light occludes my desire, and rising, I am swept, a rush of breath. Flesh dances cold, prickling. Falling back, landing so softly in this, my place, my home. Looks like the robbers have been there, frames leaving sections of discolored wall. I am the robber.
Magistrate from Holcomb county is coming. Baptize me, performing a rich seance to rid me of spirits, that look like someone else's face. Her hands laid upon you, with humility, almost beautiful. To see you happy and excited. I press my palm into your stomach, flesh already indented, imprinted. Rest hands on my belly, place above the pubic bone, filling it, expand with night.
I stop and look at the moon. Magistrate from Holcomb county is coming.
Blessings upon you. And also with you.
I stopped tonight to look at the moon. Bright, fresh night, wound up. I want to be wound with that darkness, but light occludes my desire, and rising, I am swept, a rush of breath. Flesh dances cold, prickling. Falling back, landing so softly in this, my place, my home. Looks like the robbers have been there, frames leaving sections of discolored wall. I am the robber.
Magistrate from Holcomb county is coming. Baptize me, performing a rich seance to rid me of spirits, that look like someone else's face. Her hands laid upon you, with humility, almost beautiful. To see you happy and excited. I press my palm into your stomach, flesh already indented, imprinted. Rest hands on my belly, place above the pubic bone, filling it, expand with night.
I stop and look at the moon. Magistrate from Holcomb county is coming.
Blessings upon you. And also with you.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Teaching...the most challenging thing I have even done
I am writing this. I should be working. My jobs in very particular order:
1.) Research-I am here to be a researcher and a student
2.) Teaching-I am supposed to be helping to co-construct knowledge with a whole bunch of 18-23 year olds about intercultural communication
There are probably jobs 3 and 4, but I want to focus on my negotiation with 1 and 2.
I should be working. I have two short papers due next week. I should be doing job one, 70% of the time and job two, 25%-30% of the time. Let alone making time for myself. I won't even talk about that negotiation.
I should be researching. But I am reading to teach tomorrow. When you have others relying on you it is much harder to only allow them 25% of your life. Especially when reading, grading, and discussing their shit seems to be much more important in my everyday than does my research.
I should be, but I'm not.
Tuesday, a conversation broke out in my classroom about ideologies about gender and sports culture. "Women's sports are just not as entertaining. They are not full-body contact." "Women's bodies just happen to be more frail than men's bodies so they could get really hurt playing a full contact sport." "Well women get their hair done and nails done and those things don't go with playing sports."
I look around the room. I see her, my one white lesbian student looking stunned, my two female students of color, and my one white female student, their faces hanging low. Silenced again.
Rapid-fire memories of my own place in classes like this. Classes where I felt silenced, when women feel silenced, devalued. I remember professors who have allowed this to continue and my favorite professors who have called those students out.
Red flush rises.
"I have to be really honest, Sam, That was really offensive. In fact you really offended me."
Some relief on stark faces. Those faces curl in a smile.
A teachable moment, maybe not handled in the best way. Not a long-term solution. That's ok. I stand by my choice. Stand as an ally to my female students.
"I think that when you say that it reinforces ideologies of gender that say men are stronger, and women are weak," Clea speaks quietly.
A teachable moment.
Maybe it got through to someone.
How can I not take this into my everyday? Where else can I put it, but in my heart, head, body. Consume flesh with flesh. An eros of teaching/teacher/taught. As in little separation of student and teacher, because I am always being taught by teachers who are my students.
I should get back to my number one job. To be a researcher, a student. But how can I be a researcher without thinking about teaching tomorrow? More on culture, power, and identity.
Triage.
1.) Research-I am here to be a researcher and a student
2.) Teaching-I am supposed to be helping to co-construct knowledge with a whole bunch of 18-23 year olds about intercultural communication
There are probably jobs 3 and 4, but I want to focus on my negotiation with 1 and 2.
I should be working. I have two short papers due next week. I should be doing job one, 70% of the time and job two, 25%-30% of the time. Let alone making time for myself. I won't even talk about that negotiation.
I should be researching. But I am reading to teach tomorrow. When you have others relying on you it is much harder to only allow them 25% of your life. Especially when reading, grading, and discussing their shit seems to be much more important in my everyday than does my research.
I should be, but I'm not.
Tuesday, a conversation broke out in my classroom about ideologies about gender and sports culture. "Women's sports are just not as entertaining. They are not full-body contact." "Women's bodies just happen to be more frail than men's bodies so they could get really hurt playing a full contact sport." "Well women get their hair done and nails done and those things don't go with playing sports."
I look around the room. I see her, my one white lesbian student looking stunned, my two female students of color, and my one white female student, their faces hanging low. Silenced again.
Rapid-fire memories of my own place in classes like this. Classes where I felt silenced, when women feel silenced, devalued. I remember professors who have allowed this to continue and my favorite professors who have called those students out.
Red flush rises.
"I have to be really honest, Sam, That was really offensive. In fact you really offended me."
Some relief on stark faces. Those faces curl in a smile.
A teachable moment, maybe not handled in the best way. Not a long-term solution. That's ok. I stand by my choice. Stand as an ally to my female students.
"I think that when you say that it reinforces ideologies of gender that say men are stronger, and women are weak," Clea speaks quietly.
A teachable moment.
Maybe it got through to someone.
How can I not take this into my everyday? Where else can I put it, but in my heart, head, body. Consume flesh with flesh. An eros of teaching/teacher/taught. As in little separation of student and teacher, because I am always being taught by teachers who are my students.
I should get back to my number one job. To be a researcher, a student. But how can I be a researcher without thinking about teaching tomorrow? More on culture, power, and identity.
Triage.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Degrassi:The Boiling Point:
Yeah! Degrassi has finally gotten back to well at least a place of pseudo-going there! Again yeah!
I am mainly writing because I think it is very interesting that Degrassi decided to choose a transgendered teenaged storyline. It is about time. There are always gay and lesbian characters on television and even teeny-bopper t.v. shows! But finally somebody went there portraying some of the realities of a transgendered teenager.
What I liked about the storyline the most is that in the beginning when we first meet Adam, he is not introduced as transgendered, but as just another dude trying to fit in at Degrassi. I would say that it is definitely somewhat obvious that Adam is the trans character, but at least they do not automatically assert his storyline in a one-dimensional way.
When they do finally do explore Adam's storyline I think they did a pretty decent job. In the episode, "My body is a Cage" they show Adam binding breasts, and the problems that arise in families trying to deal with this new "coming-out." I also like that they show Adam flirting with Bianca, because at some point he is going to need to date someone, so as to not be asexualized, since none of the other characters are. Even the gay ones get dates and smooches! I however, detest Bianca's homophobic/transphobic attitude upon finding out that Adam is a transman.
The other thing I like about it, is Adam's extremely supportive brother, Drew. I didn't realize they were related until these episodes when upon finding out that Adam is harassed, Drew tries to fight the a-holes that did the beating. The rest of his family is also pretty supportive at the end with the whole burn situation at the end.
What I was not a big fan of-his mom's reaction to introducing Adam to grandma. Forcing him to choose to arrive at dinner with granny as Gracie was honestly something of cognitive dissonance. But at least the mom sort of comes around in the end.
Looking forward to seeing more of Adam's character development, which they started doing more of even just at the end of the season. The whole disaster with Fritz or whatever his name is at the end, the fight club stuff, all of that adding to the complexity of what it means to occupy the subject position of trans.
I am mainly writing because I think it is very interesting that Degrassi decided to choose a transgendered teenaged storyline. It is about time. There are always gay and lesbian characters on television and even teeny-bopper t.v. shows! But finally somebody went there portraying some of the realities of a transgendered teenager.
What I liked about the storyline the most is that in the beginning when we first meet Adam, he is not introduced as transgendered, but as just another dude trying to fit in at Degrassi. I would say that it is definitely somewhat obvious that Adam is the trans character, but at least they do not automatically assert his storyline in a one-dimensional way.
When they do finally do explore Adam's storyline I think they did a pretty decent job. In the episode, "My body is a Cage" they show Adam binding breasts, and the problems that arise in families trying to deal with this new "coming-out." I also like that they show Adam flirting with Bianca, because at some point he is going to need to date someone, so as to not be asexualized, since none of the other characters are. Even the gay ones get dates and smooches! I however, detest Bianca's homophobic/transphobic attitude upon finding out that Adam is a transman.
The other thing I like about it, is Adam's extremely supportive brother, Drew. I didn't realize they were related until these episodes when upon finding out that Adam is harassed, Drew tries to fight the a-holes that did the beating. The rest of his family is also pretty supportive at the end with the whole burn situation at the end.
What I was not a big fan of-his mom's reaction to introducing Adam to grandma. Forcing him to choose to arrive at dinner with granny as Gracie was honestly something of cognitive dissonance. But at least the mom sort of comes around in the end.
Looking forward to seeing more of Adam's character development, which they started doing more of even just at the end of the season. The whole disaster with Fritz or whatever his name is at the end, the fight club stuff, all of that adding to the complexity of what it means to occupy the subject position of trans.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
August 27: The day that does not exist
Drinking seven chakra tea. Hoping to press flesh into earth, wrap arms around ugly. Smell of horse shit and dandelions. I lock my mouth to dirt, bite a chunk. Move my hand between stomach and ground feeling rhythmic pulsations, while try to spit mud through the small space in front teeth. In the past month I have been called both an Empath and a Wordsmith. They are not mutually exclusive but indicative of one another.
--
Two years ago a bug infested couch by ashen fire pit, tears soaking chrysanthemums bright red. Dust drizzles spiked peaks, floating softly above purpling night.
Screaming at that bitch who tells me Obama is going to let Russians invade. Her hands, my hands, my grandmother's hands are a blur. Held it tight. "It's ok to leave grandma. We'll be fine." "I love you grandma." "Fuck you!" "Get away from me!" Ran up the street to my house. "Just don't leave me. Do not leave me. Ever." "Ok," she said. We sat and talked about dust forever that night. How I can see it. How I talk to animals, birds and dogs mostly. I wanted her hands inked on my body, never found the right spot. Sat for hours while she held me, into cold that turns hot with exhale.
One year ago to the day. His toxic-waste dump of a body slumped over in the bed. "He went to keep your grandmother company." "She was telling him to come to her." Daydreams of adults who need to hear childlike fantasies in order to feel better. I talked with her the night before asked her to keep him safe so he wouldn't be scared. He didn't want to die. Wasn't ready for the mess he left. The basement shakes with my mother's sobs. What the fuck are we gonna do now? Funerals, eulogies, to honor a memory. Someone loved. Someone despised. Doesn't matter now. We just honor.
A year later and the money is gone. Not a penny left. Another failed investment. Spent every last penny of the IRA, throwing it at a wing joint. Maybe the building was cursed, or maybe the slumlord was a 75 year-old lady, who refused to fix the broken sewer line. Now they had a beautifully remodeled building they didn’t own, and a backed up grease trap, from raw sewage left to rot pipes. He had left them a mess.
--
Some reflections that I may have written before but feel necessary to repost again.
My great grandmother and step-father died the same day a year apart exactly. August 27. I pretend this day does not exist, cross it off calendars with black permanent pen. I was asked to both write and deliver eulogies at both funerals, the last pieces of significance for me. I didn’t want to unveil anything else, afraid of being haunted by memories. It is recommended I create an alter, acquire a marigold skull, light candles, burn incense, work through loss. I wonder what doing all of this in combination with writing could reveal. A divinatory moment about profound loss I suppose.
I have been thinking a lot about witnessing the death of the other and not witnessing one’s
own death. Laying in bed, encouraging last breaths, holding bruised hands, it is hard to separate myself from the isolation of death. Death of language. I witness the demise of the other, am forced into writing and performing it in various ways, simultaneously feeling as though I am staging my mortality. In writing life I always feel I am writing death, writing without witnessing the ultimate mystery.
“What kind of seer do you want to be?” The kind who sees ugliness and beauty, who sees both the expected and unexpected, desiring to bridge them on a page and a stage. I have been perplexed by the interaction with “the leaf” and the “photo of the leaf.” It comes down to hermeneutics, the brain as part of the body still interprets even if faced with “the physical leaf.” As we see a “physical leaf,” as language users L-E-A-F enters the mind as a representative. This is mediated also. Skin wraps muscles, blood, and tissue still implicated, interpretation still exercised. Differently, with no less validity. They provide different experiences, but no less authentic. My writing has become a process of seeing and interpreting in varying ways, but never able to leave my body behind.
I have been told to put anger and emotion into writing. When trauma occurs writing ceases. Maybe that is my greatest weakness. I have not been able to write when distressed. Retreating, I do not write, not even my blog, let alone something critical or creative. I need ways to exist with ghosts and scars. I am not sure how to do this yet?
--
Postlude
I have been trying to write my emotion. This is just a taste. I wish I had something more significant than an attempt. But for now it is what I have. I will continue to struggle and process ways of dealing with the deaths of two people I loved very very much. I think writing at all is my attempt to be closer to where they are. To deal with death, instead of run from it. For now I have chakra tea, beads, and a stone. I pray that tomorrow comes and goes and that all I need is Shiraz and roses to survive.
--
Two years ago a bug infested couch by ashen fire pit, tears soaking chrysanthemums bright red. Dust drizzles spiked peaks, floating softly above purpling night.
Screaming at that bitch who tells me Obama is going to let Russians invade. Her hands, my hands, my grandmother's hands are a blur. Held it tight. "It's ok to leave grandma. We'll be fine." "I love you grandma." "Fuck you!" "Get away from me!" Ran up the street to my house. "Just don't leave me. Do not leave me. Ever." "Ok," she said. We sat and talked about dust forever that night. How I can see it. How I talk to animals, birds and dogs mostly. I wanted her hands inked on my body, never found the right spot. Sat for hours while she held me, into cold that turns hot with exhale.
One year ago to the day. His toxic-waste dump of a body slumped over in the bed. "He went to keep your grandmother company." "She was telling him to come to her." Daydreams of adults who need to hear childlike fantasies in order to feel better. I talked with her the night before asked her to keep him safe so he wouldn't be scared. He didn't want to die. Wasn't ready for the mess he left. The basement shakes with my mother's sobs. What the fuck are we gonna do now? Funerals, eulogies, to honor a memory. Someone loved. Someone despised. Doesn't matter now. We just honor.
A year later and the money is gone. Not a penny left. Another failed investment. Spent every last penny of the IRA, throwing it at a wing joint. Maybe the building was cursed, or maybe the slumlord was a 75 year-old lady, who refused to fix the broken sewer line. Now they had a beautifully remodeled building they didn’t own, and a backed up grease trap, from raw sewage left to rot pipes. He had left them a mess.
--
Some reflections that I may have written before but feel necessary to repost again.
My great grandmother and step-father died the same day a year apart exactly. August 27. I pretend this day does not exist, cross it off calendars with black permanent pen. I was asked to both write and deliver eulogies at both funerals, the last pieces of significance for me. I didn’t want to unveil anything else, afraid of being haunted by memories. It is recommended I create an alter, acquire a marigold skull, light candles, burn incense, work through loss. I wonder what doing all of this in combination with writing could reveal. A divinatory moment about profound loss I suppose.
I have been thinking a lot about witnessing the death of the other and not witnessing one’s
own death. Laying in bed, encouraging last breaths, holding bruised hands, it is hard to separate myself from the isolation of death. Death of language. I witness the demise of the other, am forced into writing and performing it in various ways, simultaneously feeling as though I am staging my mortality. In writing life I always feel I am writing death, writing without witnessing the ultimate mystery.
“What kind of seer do you want to be?” The kind who sees ugliness and beauty, who sees both the expected and unexpected, desiring to bridge them on a page and a stage. I have been perplexed by the interaction with “the leaf” and the “photo of the leaf.” It comes down to hermeneutics, the brain as part of the body still interprets even if faced with “the physical leaf.” As we see a “physical leaf,” as language users L-E-A-F enters the mind as a representative. This is mediated also. Skin wraps muscles, blood, and tissue still implicated, interpretation still exercised. Differently, with no less validity. They provide different experiences, but no less authentic. My writing has become a process of seeing and interpreting in varying ways, but never able to leave my body behind.
I have been told to put anger and emotion into writing. When trauma occurs writing ceases. Maybe that is my greatest weakness. I have not been able to write when distressed. Retreating, I do not write, not even my blog, let alone something critical or creative. I need ways to exist with ghosts and scars. I am not sure how to do this yet?
--
Postlude
I have been trying to write my emotion. This is just a taste. I wish I had something more significant than an attempt. But for now it is what I have. I will continue to struggle and process ways of dealing with the deaths of two people I loved very very much. I think writing at all is my attempt to be closer to where they are. To deal with death, instead of run from it. For now I have chakra tea, beads, and a stone. I pray that tomorrow comes and goes and that all I need is Shiraz and roses to survive.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Summer of Books: Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Ah the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo this summer's Harry Potter, but with "dark subject matter." I think I am quoting the evening news on this. I wasn't going to read it simply because it is popular, and I have an aversion to most popular things at first. But after seeing the book on the news I decided maybe I should read it.
I am not going to write what the book is about too much, it is an International Best-Seller. Read the NYT review for goodness sake. But for people who were wondering, I thought that for a mystery novel, it was pretty good. A more intense, articulate, social commentary, type of mystery, crime novel. It is well thought-out, although, admittedly I guessed the ending. Well, not all of it. It is well-written and at almost six hundred pages, there's a lot of pretty good writing to read. It isn't a fast-mover, but it gets page-turnery as it moves along.
My favorite this is that the main anti/protagonist, Lisbeth Salander, well, she kicks ass. And she sleeps with women. At least she slept with one woman briefly in the first book, but does not consider herself bi-sexual as media outlets have portrayed her.
If you are not a big thriller, mystery, best-sellery, type person, then this will probably not be your cup of tea.
I did not find it too horrifying or graphic? Not really. But I watch Dexter, and Bones, and Law and Order, and have read a bunch of pretty cheesy mystery novels, with content that is more haunting. I hear that the series gets darker, and I have purchased the second book, and having read the preface/first chapter from the end of GWtDT it appears a bit creepier. But as a friend told me, "Kathryn, you are de-sensitized." So don't take my word on the creepy/dark factor.
I am not going to write what the book is about too much, it is an International Best-Seller. Read the NYT review for goodness sake. But for people who were wondering, I thought that for a mystery novel, it was pretty good. A more intense, articulate, social commentary, type of mystery, crime novel. It is well thought-out, although, admittedly I guessed the ending. Well, not all of it. It is well-written and at almost six hundred pages, there's a lot of pretty good writing to read. It isn't a fast-mover, but it gets page-turnery as it moves along.
My favorite this is that the main anti/protagonist, Lisbeth Salander, well, she kicks ass. And she sleeps with women. At least she slept with one woman briefly in the first book, but does not consider herself bi-sexual as media outlets have portrayed her.
If you are not a big thriller, mystery, best-sellery, type person, then this will probably not be your cup of tea.
I did not find it too horrifying or graphic? Not really. But I watch Dexter, and Bones, and Law and Order, and have read a bunch of pretty cheesy mystery novels, with content that is more haunting. I hear that the series gets darker, and I have purchased the second book, and having read the preface/first chapter from the end of GWtDT it appears a bit creepier. But as a friend told me, "Kathryn, you are de-sensitized." So don't take my word on the creepy/dark factor.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Not-So-Guilty-Pleasure: Bones: Making it Look Super Cool to have a PhD
So I am not going to write a ton about this show. It has been on for five seasons now, but I just recently started watching it because it was recommended to me by...Netflix! This is based on my preferences for crime drama shows. While composing my syllabus, I find it necessary to keep myself entertained by putting this on for background noise. What I love about this show: It makes getting a PhD seem so so so cool!!
The main character Dr. Temperance Brennen is a forensic anthropologist who works for the Jeffersonian in Washington D.C., helping the FBI, specifically agent Seeley Booth, solve crime through analysis of you guessed it: Bones! Bones serves as a double entendre, as it also serves as a pet name for Brennan by Booth. In this show they use state-of-the-art technology to recreate faces of fragmented skulls, bug/environmental analysis to determine time of death/burial/site of remains, and cause of death through specific weapons/objects etc. I mean it seems so far-fetched, but even Brennan's nerdy team of squints seem to be pretty neat-o! The squints have these totally unreal jobs (although supposedly the show is based on series creator Kathy Reichs' life) and Brennan gets to go out solving cases kicking some @$$ with her taekwondo or whatever..something she probably learned traveling and living with various indigenous groups throughout the world. Oh if getting a PhD was only so glamorous...
I must admit, I do not buy into all of the science i.e. Dr. Temperance Brennan and her team can tell someone's ethnic/racial origins based on their skeletal remains. For example Brennen can often make the distinction between someone of African decent from someone of one of the many white European decendants' ethnicity/race. Sounds like an updated version of racist Phrenology. At least she is not in charge of discerning who is smarter based on skull size, bumps, and brains. Brennen has learned so much about "others" by identifying their remains, as she says, "It's like I know them." Uh huh? I want to think it is that cool, but I must admit I think human life is more than abstractions made from various skeletal remains. I do think Brennen is coming to terms with this throughout the show.
The other thing I am not a huge fan of: Making Emily Deschanel appear socially awkward and only understanding of human contact and interaction as a means of biological drives and positivistic science. I feel that someone who went through graduate school with an anthropology degree, even physical anthropology, would probably not be quite this dense. And Deschanel doesn't play this well. Every once and awhile her misunderstanding of a certain colloquial or pop cultural icon/moment/saying seems faked. For example, she questions what the expression, "What's up buttercup" means? Her socially awkward (and poorly portrayed social awkwardness at that) Zack, must explain to her what this means. While I understand this is a.) supposed to make her seem out of touch with reality b.) appear more intelligent than everyone else c.) not concerned with trivialities like such expression it makes the character look like she must have been living under a rock for her ENTIRE life. And I do believe at some point she was a child (we see flashbacks of this) and probably did not always have her PhD and may have been exposed to life outside academia for say 18 years or so of life. Even without a PhD, someone could probably discern what such a statement would mean, or give it an educated guess. So far I like season two's lack of this incredibly stereotypical representation of "Dr."
Below I offer a really horrible you tube clip of the show. I recommend just watching it on the ol' Netflix watch it now if that is a choice for you.
The main character Dr. Temperance Brennen is a forensic anthropologist who works for the Jeffersonian in Washington D.C., helping the FBI, specifically agent Seeley Booth, solve crime through analysis of you guessed it: Bones! Bones serves as a double entendre, as it also serves as a pet name for Brennan by Booth. In this show they use state-of-the-art technology to recreate faces of fragmented skulls, bug/environmental analysis to determine time of death/burial/site of remains, and cause of death through specific weapons/objects etc. I mean it seems so far-fetched, but even Brennan's nerdy team of squints seem to be pretty neat-o! The squints have these totally unreal jobs (although supposedly the show is based on series creator Kathy Reichs' life) and Brennan gets to go out solving cases kicking some @$$ with her taekwondo or whatever..something she probably learned traveling and living with various indigenous groups throughout the world. Oh if getting a PhD was only so glamorous...
I must admit, I do not buy into all of the science i.e. Dr. Temperance Brennan and her team can tell someone's ethnic/racial origins based on their skeletal remains. For example Brennen can often make the distinction between someone of African decent from someone of one of the many white European decendants' ethnicity/race. Sounds like an updated version of racist Phrenology. At least she is not in charge of discerning who is smarter based on skull size, bumps, and brains. Brennen has learned so much about "others" by identifying their remains, as she says, "It's like I know them." Uh huh? I want to think it is that cool, but I must admit I think human life is more than abstractions made from various skeletal remains. I do think Brennen is coming to terms with this throughout the show.
The other thing I am not a huge fan of: Making Emily Deschanel appear socially awkward and only understanding of human contact and interaction as a means of biological drives and positivistic science. I feel that someone who went through graduate school with an anthropology degree, even physical anthropology, would probably not be quite this dense. And Deschanel doesn't play this well. Every once and awhile her misunderstanding of a certain colloquial or pop cultural icon/moment/saying seems faked. For example, she questions what the expression, "What's up buttercup" means? Her socially awkward (and poorly portrayed social awkwardness at that) Zack, must explain to her what this means. While I understand this is a.) supposed to make her seem out of touch with reality b.) appear more intelligent than everyone else c.) not concerned with trivialities like such expression it makes the character look like she must have been living under a rock for her ENTIRE life. And I do believe at some point she was a child (we see flashbacks of this) and probably did not always have her PhD and may have been exposed to life outside academia for say 18 years or so of life. Even without a PhD, someone could probably discern what such a statement would mean, or give it an educated guess. So far I like season two's lack of this incredibly stereotypical representation of "Dr."
Below I offer a really horrible you tube clip of the show. I recommend just watching it on the ol' Netflix watch it now if that is a choice for you.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Summer Television self-indulgences: The Real L Word
On top of reading, I have been watching a significant amount of not-so-guilty, yet pleasurable (sort of) television.
The Real L Word
Like the fake L Word, the Real L Word is poorly scripted, flat, full of drama (although lesbian), reifying of heteronormativity, and I JUST CAN'T NOT WATCH IT. Sunday nights, I am drawn to this Lesbian themed reality television like I am to my Crackberry. Little red light flashing=previews for that night's episode. Then after seeing the opening credits, Jill and I discuss who we like and dislike, although, obviously I am more invested in this than she is. I realized most of them I hate but I keep coming back for more, hoping for some redeeming qualities. Always trying to find a point of (dis) identification, I am trying to find which character I belong to. In this, I see no hope. Of course the "fake" L Word left us all hanging with the "Who killed Jenny" fiasco. Redemption for Ilene Chaiken may be impossible.
Whitney
I like to describe her as smokin' hot with THE MOST annoying personality EVER!!! Her misnomer, "I don't like drama" is getting old. She is the epitome of LESBO drama. Oh I don't know why you piss off every girl you play with, maybe because you date all of them at once. I am fine with polyamory as long as everyone involved is open and aware of what is going on. Obviously this is not the case with all of Whitney's flings. At least this week Sara (why the fuck do they say her name like SADA?) gave her a taste of her own well-deserved medicine. Oh poor Whitney's getting her heart broken...ABOUT TIME!!! Quit trying to figure out if Whitney will commit and be ok with her commitment-phobic attitude and allow her to be free as long as she is respectful of the women she is free with.And for all the women in love with her...Get a freakin' clue. She's just not that into you!
Mikey
A total mysoginist, Mikey at least had a couple moments of shining. First when yelling at that modeling agent she really almost started crying, although I don't think she would ever honestly admit that. Second, offering her aunt that make-over, performed by one of Whitney's flings, Romi. This was a touching moment of the series where one of the bos actually appeared to have a soul. A rarity. Her mood shifts are pretty intense, from loving Raquel and wanting to marry her to hating her for playing a pretty harmless joke and pretending to not be at Mikey's beck and call.
Rose
Supposedly Papi is based on Rose's life of partying and womanizing. It's cool, I liked Papi, although short-lived and a highly stereotypical portrayal of the Latin lover. I hate Rose. Papi was likeable, she didn't treat the women she was with like little children but managed to at least appear on some level to love all of them. Afterellen.com sums up Rose best in their minicap Rose cares about Rose and treats her girlfriend Natalie like poo. Condescension and paternalism are just two of Rose's faults, amongst her lying (I'm just hanging out with my friends actually a "bromance" night with strippers rubbing boobies in her face), and all over rude demeanor. I am sick of Natalie being treated like a five-year-old little girl, with mama Rose protecting her. Please Nat, DO NOT work for Rose, you will regret it. Or maybe do it so the break-up will come faster.
Jik/Nill
It is annoying that in this couple the two individuals seem to have collapsed self-identities. They are no longer two seperate people but are defined by their primary pairing. Self-defined as the straightest gay people they or at least Nik knows, they are in the midst of planning some hideous glamarati wedding. Oh it is Betina all over again, one person has more money and power then the other and we all saw how well that worked out! I'm not saying don't celebrate your love but why does it need to be so extravagant? At least they vetoed the custom dresses-those were ridiculously expensive. There are few words to explain the ick-factor that these two embody. How is being straight-gay something to celebrate and exclaim from the television rooftops?
Tracy
Finally, the ONE character that does not constantly annoy me! In fact most of the time I feel bad for her, she's too young to be a mother of three. And I don't think she really wants that sort of responsibility yet. I am kind of waiting for her to realize this and for the other shoe to drop. On the other side, Stamie is funny, charming, and interested in helping Tracy with a modeling career. Well-worth it in my opinion. So I continue to root for them. Is there any way to kick the kids out of the picture? Just kidding. It's way gayer this way. Dogs and kids and keys oh my!
The one thing I liked about the "fake" L Word was that all the women were at least at various times all friends with one another. When are the Real L Word characters going to all meet up and become friends. I think Iw as hoping for something of a Real World (Watch what happens when six lesbians live in a house in Los Angeles stop being polite and start getting real!!) Like lets round up six lesbians, put them in a cage, and voyeuristically observe them in their unnatural habitat. Ok, so that isn't a good idea either, but I was hoping for some camaraderie amongst the cast, some relationships being formed, hot tub scenes being filmed, cat fights breaking out! You know the things that make for good reality television. Alas I will have to settle for the soft-core porn of Whitney effing SADA in the shower. I am not a big fan of this hypersexualized performance of lesbianism and I don't need to see the line-crossing sex scenes. I don't find them hot, but weird, and again ick factor. And I'm a lesbo. Not good when Real lesbians feel intrusive into these personal moments in a non-sexy way.
all in all middle to down thumb with hope for the future.
The Real L Word
Like the fake L Word, the Real L Word is poorly scripted, flat, full of drama (although lesbian), reifying of heteronormativity, and I JUST CAN'T NOT WATCH IT. Sunday nights, I am drawn to this Lesbian themed reality television like I am to my Crackberry. Little red light flashing=previews for that night's episode. Then after seeing the opening credits, Jill and I discuss who we like and dislike, although, obviously I am more invested in this than she is. I realized most of them I hate but I keep coming back for more, hoping for some redeeming qualities. Always trying to find a point of (dis) identification, I am trying to find which character I belong to. In this, I see no hope. Of course the "fake" L Word left us all hanging with the "Who killed Jenny" fiasco. Redemption for Ilene Chaiken may be impossible.
Whitney
I like to describe her as smokin' hot with THE MOST annoying personality EVER!!! Her misnomer, "I don't like drama" is getting old. She is the epitome of LESBO drama. Oh I don't know why you piss off every girl you play with, maybe because you date all of them at once. I am fine with polyamory as long as everyone involved is open and aware of what is going on. Obviously this is not the case with all of Whitney's flings. At least this week Sara (why the fuck do they say her name like SADA?) gave her a taste of her own well-deserved medicine. Oh poor Whitney's getting her heart broken...ABOUT TIME!!! Quit trying to figure out if Whitney will commit and be ok with her commitment-phobic attitude and allow her to be free as long as she is respectful of the women she is free with.And for all the women in love with her...Get a freakin' clue. She's just not that into you!
Mikey
A total mysoginist, Mikey at least had a couple moments of shining. First when yelling at that modeling agent she really almost started crying, although I don't think she would ever honestly admit that. Second, offering her aunt that make-over, performed by one of Whitney's flings, Romi. This was a touching moment of the series where one of the bos actually appeared to have a soul. A rarity. Her mood shifts are pretty intense, from loving Raquel and wanting to marry her to hating her for playing a pretty harmless joke and pretending to not be at Mikey's beck and call.
Rose
Supposedly Papi is based on Rose's life of partying and womanizing. It's cool, I liked Papi, although short-lived and a highly stereotypical portrayal of the Latin lover. I hate Rose. Papi was likeable, she didn't treat the women she was with like little children but managed to at least appear on some level to love all of them. Afterellen.com sums up Rose best in their minicap Rose cares about Rose and treats her girlfriend Natalie like poo. Condescension and paternalism are just two of Rose's faults, amongst her lying (I'm just hanging out with my friends actually a "bromance" night with strippers rubbing boobies in her face), and all over rude demeanor. I am sick of Natalie being treated like a five-year-old little girl, with mama Rose protecting her. Please Nat, DO NOT work for Rose, you will regret it. Or maybe do it so the break-up will come faster.
Jik/Nill
It is annoying that in this couple the two individuals seem to have collapsed self-identities. They are no longer two seperate people but are defined by their primary pairing. Self-defined as the straightest gay people they or at least Nik knows, they are in the midst of planning some hideous glamarati wedding. Oh it is Betina all over again, one person has more money and power then the other and we all saw how well that worked out! I'm not saying don't celebrate your love but why does it need to be so extravagant? At least they vetoed the custom dresses-those were ridiculously expensive. There are few words to explain the ick-factor that these two embody. How is being straight-gay something to celebrate and exclaim from the television rooftops?
Tracy
Finally, the ONE character that does not constantly annoy me! In fact most of the time I feel bad for her, she's too young to be a mother of three. And I don't think she really wants that sort of responsibility yet. I am kind of waiting for her to realize this and for the other shoe to drop. On the other side, Stamie is funny, charming, and interested in helping Tracy with a modeling career. Well-worth it in my opinion. So I continue to root for them. Is there any way to kick the kids out of the picture? Just kidding. It's way gayer this way. Dogs and kids and keys oh my!
The one thing I liked about the "fake" L Word was that all the women were at least at various times all friends with one another. When are the Real L Word characters going to all meet up and become friends. I think Iw as hoping for something of a Real World (Watch what happens when six lesbians live in a house in Los Angeles stop being polite and start getting real!!) Like lets round up six lesbians, put them in a cage, and voyeuristically observe them in their unnatural habitat. Ok, so that isn't a good idea either, but I was hoping for some camaraderie amongst the cast, some relationships being formed, hot tub scenes being filmed, cat fights breaking out! You know the things that make for good reality television. Alas I will have to settle for the soft-core porn of Whitney effing SADA in the shower. I am not a big fan of this hypersexualized performance of lesbianism and I don't need to see the line-crossing sex scenes. I don't find them hot, but weird, and again ick factor. And I'm a lesbo. Not good when Real lesbians feel intrusive into these personal moments in a non-sexy way.
all in all middle to down thumb with hope for the future.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Being and Vibration
So I recently finished reading Being and Vibration by Joseph Rael for my week-long workshop at Naropa with Julie Patton.
It was an amazing week and I should have written about it more at the time. Julie asked us to try and not write with our computers at all during the week and I have to say it was very liberating to not be tied to a machine. Of course here I am back to it. But at the time of the workshop the way I took my notes was through writing letters to two friends, sharing parts of my experience. I am tying to carry over this practice as much as possible by not tying myself down to computers, my cell phone, etc. It is summer time, not time to be in connection with everyone, because, it is the only time I get to connect with myself. THE WHOLE PURPOSE OF THIS BOOK READING, REVIEWING PROCESS.
Back to the book. I cannot say I understand. The combination of metaphysics, sound, tone, vibration, energy is not something I usually jive with on such an explicit level. For instance, Rael, a man of Ute (as combined with other American Indian) heritage, offers a variety of ways to chant various words both in solo and group meditation settings. He describes ways of focusing on vowel sounds, i.e. "PEACE" becomes "peeeez" stretching the "ee" sound for purposes of sound meditation. This is not necessarily a new idea for those people who practice various forms of sound meditation, including the "Om" at the end of yoga practice. Rael relates much of sound vibration to a sort of transcendent form of being, the medicine wheel, and directionaiy (NSEW) and identifications with directions.
I thought this was crazy and didn't get it. Just kind of blasted through reading it. Until I met Julie, who is a poet. Some might call her a sound poet, meaning she makes poetry through sounds, not always human language, but language none-the-less. But she calls herself a poet, and I respect her process of self-identification. She is this amazingly beautiful black woman, with huge greying dreds, and a penchant for being with nature, observing, and knowing how to survive without monetary gain. Pretty impressive. We spent one workshop observing a blue heron, and then blindfolded, translating the sounds we heard in the natural setting of the Boulder Creek into sounds humans can make. One person took dictation while the other person made noises (not words necessarily) creating a soundscape. The next day we read these "sound poems" out loud to dogs. Seems strange right? But dogs respond to sounds. Not words. Even those dogs that are very well trained are responding to various forms of vibrational patterns that words make coming out of a human's mouth. Often to train a dog it requires more then simply saying a word. It requires saying it in a certain way, raising or lowering pitch, tone, speed. That is what dogs respond to.
So why are humans so out of touch with these vibrations? Because we have been socialized that talking with animals (as many of us do as children) is something only crazy people do. As both Rael and Julie say we have lost our ability to listen often relying on sight as a primary sensing skill. If you think about it humans can see many things at once and even notice the amount of things they are seeing, while only able to focus on one sound at a time. This is of course not true for all humans, there are always cultural factors playing a role into one's ability to do anything as well as ability. Those who are blind often have very keen other senses out of necessity.
The point however, is that if we think of communication as vibration, we hear a lot more, and open ourselves up to the possibilities of communication in a new form of language, one not limited to words. And I LOVE words. But I am open to experiencing beyond the word too. And I am also a person who usually says we cannot exist outside of language and I believe that, but maybe we need to be more open to what language is and work on erasing the hierarchy of human language, not only the language of dominance (white, masculinist, heterosexist, upper class) languaging over those of "others," but also the hierarchy of human language over language of animals, nature, etc. Not unproblematic, or uncomplicated, but I am open to being in conversation with this idea. I may not get Rael on his own, but I get Julie's translation of him and the practical use of his book for performers who work with vibration and silence to create meaningful performances.
It was an amazing week and I should have written about it more at the time. Julie asked us to try and not write with our computers at all during the week and I have to say it was very liberating to not be tied to a machine. Of course here I am back to it. But at the time of the workshop the way I took my notes was through writing letters to two friends, sharing parts of my experience. I am tying to carry over this practice as much as possible by not tying myself down to computers, my cell phone, etc. It is summer time, not time to be in connection with everyone, because, it is the only time I get to connect with myself. THE WHOLE PURPOSE OF THIS BOOK READING, REVIEWING PROCESS.
Back to the book. I cannot say I understand. The combination of metaphysics, sound, tone, vibration, energy is not something I usually jive with on such an explicit level. For instance, Rael, a man of Ute (as combined with other American Indian) heritage, offers a variety of ways to chant various words both in solo and group meditation settings. He describes ways of focusing on vowel sounds, i.e. "PEACE" becomes "peeeez" stretching the "ee" sound for purposes of sound meditation. This is not necessarily a new idea for those people who practice various forms of sound meditation, including the "Om" at the end of yoga practice. Rael relates much of sound vibration to a sort of transcendent form of being, the medicine wheel, and directionaiy (NSEW) and identifications with directions.
I thought this was crazy and didn't get it. Just kind of blasted through reading it. Until I met Julie, who is a poet. Some might call her a sound poet, meaning she makes poetry through sounds, not always human language, but language none-the-less. But she calls herself a poet, and I respect her process of self-identification. She is this amazingly beautiful black woman, with huge greying dreds, and a penchant for being with nature, observing, and knowing how to survive without monetary gain. Pretty impressive. We spent one workshop observing a blue heron, and then blindfolded, translating the sounds we heard in the natural setting of the Boulder Creek into sounds humans can make. One person took dictation while the other person made noises (not words necessarily) creating a soundscape. The next day we read these "sound poems" out loud to dogs. Seems strange right? But dogs respond to sounds. Not words. Even those dogs that are very well trained are responding to various forms of vibrational patterns that words make coming out of a human's mouth. Often to train a dog it requires more then simply saying a word. It requires saying it in a certain way, raising or lowering pitch, tone, speed. That is what dogs respond to.
So why are humans so out of touch with these vibrations? Because we have been socialized that talking with animals (as many of us do as children) is something only crazy people do. As both Rael and Julie say we have lost our ability to listen often relying on sight as a primary sensing skill. If you think about it humans can see many things at once and even notice the amount of things they are seeing, while only able to focus on one sound at a time. This is of course not true for all humans, there are always cultural factors playing a role into one's ability to do anything as well as ability. Those who are blind often have very keen other senses out of necessity.
The point however, is that if we think of communication as vibration, we hear a lot more, and open ourselves up to the possibilities of communication in a new form of language, one not limited to words. And I LOVE words. But I am open to experiencing beyond the word too. And I am also a person who usually says we cannot exist outside of language and I believe that, but maybe we need to be more open to what language is and work on erasing the hierarchy of human language, not only the language of dominance (white, masculinist, heterosexist, upper class) languaging over those of "others," but also the hierarchy of human language over language of animals, nature, etc. Not unproblematic, or uncomplicated, but I am open to being in conversation with this idea. I may not get Rael on his own, but I get Julie's translation of him and the practical use of his book for performers who work with vibration and silence to create meaningful performances.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Rebecca Brown: Excerpts from a Family Medical Dictionary
My latest read took me to Rebecca Brown's, Excerpts from a Family Medical Dictionary an amazing book about a woman, the author's care-taking of her mother after she is diagnosed with cancer until her death. One thing about this book: You know how it is going to end. What I will say without giving it away too much, is that despite knowing the ending, it concludes itself in a beautiful and poetic way. In many ways I am jealous of the author's/character's ability to be so matter-of-fact about the dying process and to complete the anointing process.
The book is split into sections/chapters divided by different terms that the author follows with a narrative/explanation of her mother going through the experiences of these terms. A couple of my favorite sections are "Twilight Sleep," which Brown describes as anesthetized space where one is not put "completely under" as a patient may need to be awake during a surgery. My other favorite scene, "hydrotherapy," gives a lovely glimpse into how the history translates into the present of the narrative. It reminds me of my mother and how we only had a bath tub until I was in middle school, reading in the bathtub a favorite pastime for her as well.
I love this book because it is not a survivor story. It is a story about profound loss, not coated with roses and daydreams. While it is a representation of her story, it is also my story, I read my dealings with death into the narrative. I locate my white lesbian body within the body of Brown, also a white lesbian. And although she is writing about her mother's ordeal with cancer, I see my stepfather and my great-grandmother-two more stories about not overcoming disease. It is not a progress story, they are not progress stories.
And that is most of all where I find myself, straddling a line of coping with death and falling apart. Recently I have been attempting to write through the death of loved ones...to share an excerpt of this process:
My great grandmother and step-father died the same day a year apart exactly. August 27. I pretend this day does not exist, cross it off calendars with black permanent pen. I was asked to both write and deliver eulogies at both funerals, the last pieces of significance for me. I didn’t want to unveil anything else, afraid of being haunted by memories. It is recommended I create an alter, acquire a marigold skull, light candles, burn incense, work through loss. I wonder what doing all of this in combination with writing could reveal? A divinatory moment about profound loss I suppose.
Reading the work of Brown I am inspired to continue to work through the death of the other, being a good seer in the world, and trying to bear witness to what I can of my own death.
The Shoppe and Lovely Confections
With my recent move to the hipster-esque area of denver known as East Colfax/City Park area I now have two amazing cupcake bakeries at my disposal. Despite my avowal to limit my sugar intake, I have still managed to squeeze these little folks into my life.
The Shoppe located at 3103 E Colfax is my favorite cupcake place thus far for a multitude of reasons. They have several flavors every day and come in mini, regular, and jumbo size (unlike most stores which only have a few flavors each day.) The mini cupcakes are like a perfect amuse bush. I chose the strawberry-rhubarb as the tangy sweetness is one of my absolute favorite things of life. The whipped cream icing was delicious (this coming from a girl who hates whipped anything really!) And the woman working the counter was radical and helpful as well. She offered her favorites, and told us which ones she wasn't fond of also. They even have vegan cupcakes, not that I probably would or could eat one but I think stores' attempts at vegan and gluten-free baked goods is promising.
The atmosphere is pretty hipster-y, with eclectic or eccentric art on the walls, bright pink and white contrasts, and what appears to be a small boutique at the front of the store. What I do enjoy about this place is that it feels like the kind of place you can go and sit, with real plates and silverware.
Lovely Confections at 1489 Steele St. is also a tasty bakery with a cupcake selection and some other items as well. During the Sex and the City Two movie (which I still have not seen!) craze the owner made a couple of cupcakes dedicated to the show/ladies of SatC. My favorite at this place is the Strawberries and Cream and Red Velvet. Very traditional cupcakes, they are made with local and organic ingredients, which is to be appreciated! It appears they only come in regular size, with a huge layer of frosting. Tasty and pretty to look at too.
My beef with the place is that the first time I went in there they were sold out, which was fine, the sign on the door actually said the shop was closed but I saw people going in. So I eagerly entered the store too to be greeted by the owner who was sitting with a group of folks on the couches, an quickly told me she was sold out for the day. It looked like they were conducting some secretive cupcake baking mission to take over the world. It didn't feel like a warm and welcoming atmosphere. But I went back again, they were almost sold out this time, and had only a few left, so my fried and I took off for The Shoppe. I have heard from others that tey feel the place is a bit yuppy-ish and pretentious. I am however, willing to give it another chance.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Summer of Books: The Pink Institution
In light of my creative writing class and my overall need to feel human again (see PhD Culture for a brief overview of my life the past three years, although the intensity has increased within the last year, the first year of my actual PhD program) I am going to be reviewing books. Actual fiction books, some old, new, experimental, academic (maybe). In doing this I hope to revive my "soul" a little.
This also comes in light of some news that I have some sort of disc issues/boney growth in my back that may require surgery, but definitely will require taking it easy (thus, no hiking for awhile). Just until they figure out what is up and a long-term plan. So frustrating as I was just starting to feel better. In attempt to keep writing I am challenging myself to keep reading.
The first book I read was The Pink Institution by Selah Saterstrom
Saterstrom was my creative writing professor this past quarter and I find it to be important to know people's work, especially when working with them. So I bought this book in an attempt to be more familiar with creative work and the folks producing it.
I find this to be a fabulous book, not solely because I know her. Saterstrom's use of language paints a horrifying multi-generational tale of relationships between white women in the South and their relationships with men. In many ways it is a tale of epistemology and ways of the body knowing. How do white women and girls learn to deal with abuse, alcoholism, sexuality, and pass this knowledge on to their daughters? How do the women's bodies within the narrative learn to negotiate complicated and problematic relationships and historical legacies?
Saterstrom's syntax is revelatory of the ghosts that live in and between language. The gaps between words in the first section demonstrates the haunting of language, what is not said/written leaves a rich subtext that is as prolific as the words that grace the page. My greatest love, as with most great books, is no immediate or satisfactory resolution, except to read it again.
It is short yet complex, written in the style of vignettes for multiple sections, that start to unravel the density of the narrative, which is never completely undone or made transparent. This forces the reader to actively engage in the text not idle through it as mindless entertainment.
I am immediately drawn into the section when the narrator "I" becomes present, not because I am concerned with it being the author but because it allows me a place to enter the text. What parts of this "I" story are my own similar, yet different narrative. As a woman who has been alive as a part of a 4-5 female generation family myself what are family and personal stories we circulate, which ones do we keep hidden? Whether the text is semi-autobiographical or not isn't the point (although context is always important), the meaning drawn out is important.
The narrative is one of those stories that needs to be told, heard.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
"Complicated"
Digging on this song right now:
Complicated, Yonder Mountain String Band
There is fire
And there's light
The sense of something
Coming down this telephone wire
And there's wrong and there's right
That's the closest thing to clarity tonight
There are songs I've seen
That can make somebody feel
Like things are better than they seem
That there's time
Yes there's time tonight
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
You can say
Something
Wait until the people cheer
Then give them the refrain
And the band plays those blues away
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
Its a frame of mind
its a surfacing you notice
from the corner of your eye
You can see for miles
With an inner light that's guiding you home
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
This complicated
This complicated
This complicated
And there's light
The sense of something
Coming down this telephone wire
And there's wrong and there's right
That's the closest thing to clarity tonight
There are songs I've seen
That can make somebody feel
Like things are better than they seem
That there's time
Yes there's time tonight
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
You can say
Something
Wait until the people cheer
Then give them the refrain
And the band plays those blues away
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
Its a frame of mind
its a surfacing you notice
from the corner of your eye
You can see for miles
With an inner light that's guiding you home
In my own defense
I don't believe that I
Was born this complicated
This complicated
This complicated
This complicated
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Going to the Indigo Girls tonight is stirring up some shit for me. I am hoping that tonight goes better then the last time I saw them in Madison! In that vein I have posted Peace Tonight with the high hopes that there will be some peace tonight!!!
Honey pick the red corner shoes
The ones that hardly ever get used
I knelt in front of my whole collection
I'm picking you a special selection
On a no news is good news middle of mid-year day
I feel no ill with time to kill I wanna play
Let's make peace tonight
The moon is bare and shining bright
Let's make peace tonight in a good time
Callin' on my good friends today
You know the drive's about an hour away
We'll be pitching up a tent by the trees
We'll be wading in the river to our knees
Oh now love's been planted & we're checking out the yield
Two black dogs and a white one running in the field
Let's make peace tonight
The moon is bare and shining bright
Let's make peace tonight in a good time
We used to have some money but we spent it
So when we want to have it then we rent it
But we're cuttin' up the rug and I know you love me love me
And the best of everything here is free
Oh when things get messy then we tidy up the room
We'll be no stranger to the dustpan and the broom
Let's make peace tonight
The moon is bare & shining bright
Let's make peace tonight
The moon is bare & shining bright
Let's make peace tonight in a good time
here is a great vid of the song from the Rosie O'Donnell show:
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Ellis, Coffee song
This goes out to all of my lovely writing center folks:
Ellis, Coffee Song/Coffee Time
I spend all my money
I dress you up for fun
I’m not too proud to say
I’ll go that extra mile
I cool you down when it’s hot
I heat you up when it’s not
I treat you right- oh you know you’re the one
CH. I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
When I’ve had my cup of coffee
V2. You fit my every mood
With an uplifting feeling
It’s like a superhero
comes in every cup
And when I start to fade
You’re there to save the day
You make me feel like I am stronger than I was
CH. I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
when I’ve had two cups of coffee
BR. It’s not always bliss
I can have too much of you
I take time away and for a while
Decaf will have to do
V3. You are a politician
On a people- pleasing mission
So many faces to the simple bean you are
You are a caramel hi-rise
Or a simple latte small size
Or a cappuccino dry - Or coffee at the bar
CH:
I’ve tried the turtle mocha
I’ve tried the mint extreme
I’ve had the macchiato
I’ve had extra whip cream
I’m not ashamed to say it
I want you every day
Even at the gas station I’ll go out of my way
I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
when I’ve had three cups of coffee
So many kinds of coffee
I dress you up for fun
I’m not too proud to say
I’ll go that extra mile
I cool you down when it’s hot
I heat you up when it’s not
I treat you right- oh you know you’re the one
CH. I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
When I’ve had my cup of coffee
V2. You fit my every mood
With an uplifting feeling
It’s like a superhero
comes in every cup
And when I start to fade
You’re there to save the day
You make me feel like I am stronger than I was
CH. I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
when I’ve had two cups of coffee
BR. It’s not always bliss
I can have too much of you
I take time away and for a while
Decaf will have to do
V3. You are a politician
On a people- pleasing mission
So many faces to the simple bean you are
You are a caramel hi-rise
Or a simple latte small size
Or a cappuccino dry - Or coffee at the bar
CH:
I’ve tried the turtle mocha
I’ve tried the mint extreme
I’ve had the macchiato
I’ve had extra whip cream
I’m not ashamed to say it
I want you every day
Even at the gas station I’ll go out of my way
I’ve tried all kinds of teas
I’ve tried the yerba matte
It’s not the same even
If it looks like a latte
We’ve had some time apart
And I was less shaky
But I feel more alive
when I’ve had three cups of coffee
So many kinds of coffee
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
To whom it may concern,
I will say the definite challenge is feeling as though I may have done something wrong. That I have been unfaithful. When what I care about most is not hurting, anyone else and also myself. I am sick of hurting other people because in the end I am the one who ends up the most hurt. And so I try to reconcile how I might be hurting you, when I actually do not even know you. And more importantly you do not know me.
And I need you to understand that I am trying to get over this to find some sort of reclamation of this us-ness, that does not include you. Some place that I can find both ease and discomfort and a space between that feels right, although I do not know exactly how to get there. Only that it cannot be worse than it was before-nothing can be worse than the burden of bearing someone else's pain, someone's pain who you have no investment in hauling around. Yet it is there, nagging. and maybe there is something to this that is important. Everything has meaning.
And it pains me that you do not want to be included. I cannot say why, except that it feels like some sort of judgment towards me. And again you do not know me. You do not know what I value, and whom I hold most dear. Preciousness, my dear, preciousness. Maybe I want you to see me for the monster I am not. I want to know you because sometimes I think we are so alike you and I. And maybe that's why we would never get along, we are actually too similar. Funny to hear that. You can never be too different or too similar. Have to fit just exactly in the middle.
Maybe I want to know you so that I stop disliking you. Because what I know of you, I am not too fond of, although, I think for the most part I do a good job keeping that to myself. And maybe when I see you, I see a little bit of myself. And I think maybe we could know that about each other and it would all be o.k. Because actually I hold you in a very high regard. I was willing to give it all up for you-to make sure you wouldn't lose what you hold most dear. Preciousness, my dear, preciousness.
So to whom it may concern. Please do not judge what you do not know. Please do not judge me. This has never been my burden to bear, but I do it because I have to think it is worth it somehow. I know I won't actually have the chance to ease your mind, to come clean about my part in all of this. But that is just it. I am clean. Not always, not even usually. But this time I am clean.
I am hoping maybe somehow you could actually take this into consideration as you paint this really ugly portrait of me.
Sincerely yours,
me
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Sex and the City I Want Love
One of my favorite Carrie Bradshaw scenes and my favorite CB dress of all time:
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sweet Gypsy
Beautiful song...did they write this one or is it a cover?
Sweet Gypsy, Indigo Girls
And through my heart so full and empty
Well these days seem strange somehow
A billion years isn't what it appears to be
Now you tell me that you're losing hold of time
You can't seem to find your peace of mind
Well Im so far away and Im trying to see you through
I can't help but feel I may be losing you
Should I let you go
For your own sake
Should I hold you close
For mine
Anyway I love you and I couldnt be more sure
These tears cry out please don't let go
Oh but their words
They keep haunting me
You can't build your life around a dream
Well it's too late
Now my world is you
There's nothing they could say or do
Well I remember the first time that I fell
I swear I never thought I'd make it up again
Ive been flying on the wings of your love
And Im not getting down just to fall again
Don't it seem like the road is oh so long
Well everybodys moving out
And were staying on
In this absurdity
Now you don't let go of me
Im begging you
Now you don't let go of me
Anyway I love you
Thursday, April 1, 2010
2 great Indigo Girls Songs
This is an amazing song and can be found at the end of Faye Tucker on "Come on Now Social."
I highly recommend it.
Philosophy of Loss, Indigo Girls
Welcome to why the church has died
In the heart of the exiled in the kingdom of hate
Who owns the land & keeps the commands
And marries itself to the state
Modern scribes write in Jesus Christ
Everyone is free
And the doors open wide to all straight men & women
But they are not open to me
And who is teaching kids to be soldiers
To be marked by a plain white cross
And we kill just a little to save a lot more
The philosophy of loss
There are a few who would be true out of love
And love is hard
And don't think that our hands haven't shoveled the dirt
Over their central American graveyards
Doctors & witch hunters stripped you bare
Left you nothing for your earthly sins
Yeah but who made this noise just a bunch of boys
And the one with the most toys wins
Who is teaching kids to be gamblers
Life is a coin toss
And of course what you give up is what you gain
The philosophy of loss
Whatever has happened to anyone else
Could happen to you & to me
And the end of my youth was the possible truth
That it all happens randomly
Who is teaching kids to be leaders
and the way that it is meant to be
the philosophy of loss
Second is a song that I came by through a friend in my undergrad and grad program. It's called Life's So Strange and is another very interesting song that I think was on a cd burned from Kazzaa(sp?) or Napster. Oh remember those lovely days. I do...
Cold black coffee, incessant stream of cars
Cigarette ash lies sprinkled like a fistful of grey stars
Yesterday it rained silver rainbows on the ground
Today the rain's just water - it won't stop from falling down.
I get weary waiting for my muse
But in between the times she comes
I still have to tie my shoes
And get on with my day
There are mornings when I'm with (?)
And there are days I have to take the bus.
Life's so rich...
Life's so empty...
Secret rendezvous, long distance from a phone booth
Like two players in a mystery straight out of our youth
Well I'm finding that dramatics have lost their old appeal
I play the part of stoic lover, but I'm not sure how I feel
I get discouraged waiting for the world
To understand this love affair
To understand the girl
There are mornings when Amelia's right beside me
The next thing I know, I taste the salt of the sea.
Life's so rich...
Life's so empty...
Cold black coffee, incessant stream of cars
Cigarette ash lies sprinkled like a fistful of grey stars
Yesterday it rained silver rainbows on the ground
Today the rain's just water - it won't stop from falling down.
As I grow weary, I'm waiting for the world
To understand this love affair
To understand the girl
There are mornings when Amelia's right beside me
The next thing I know, I taste the salt of the sea.
Life's so rich...
Life's so empty...
Life's so strange
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Performance West
So I will be performing at Performance West's Microfringe Festival this April. Yay!!
Check it out
http://performancewest.wordpress.com/about/
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