I've managed to pack up my few summer clothes and household goods and vacate the summerhouse the Bookstore Maven so graciously lent me. A bit sooner than I'd anticipated, but it's all good. My new digs at Miz Amy's feel like home -- a very good feeling, considering the nomad I have been and am about to become.
So in the next 10 days, all I have to do is:
* Haul more boxes to storage.
* Pack for two years in Morocco, adhering to the two-bag, 107-linear-inch, 80-pound limit.
* Get upstate for a couple of days with my parents.
* Hang out with the niece and nephews.
* Last-minute shopping (long underwear – ugh!; some electronics and toiletries, and absolutely no more books or iTunes)
* Hopefully another night on the town (Miz Amy and I planning to see Chris Duarte at The Zoo on Saturday night ... anyone with us?)
* Visit and photograph all the places and people (and food!) I love here in L-Town.
* Hoping for at least one more long bike ride.
* Get serious about studying the beginner’s Darija (Moroccan Arabic) lessons before takeoff.
* Archive all of my photos, documents, music from my hard drive.
* Create a photo album to show my American life to my new Moroccan host families.
* Buy overseas property insurance; pay off credit cards; order enough prescriptions to cover my first three months of training.
* Launch new Morocco-specific blog.
* Family dinner the day before Labor Day.
* Farewell party with las chicas (muchas gracias to Miz Amy for hosting).
* Hitch a tear-filled ride to the airport the morning of Sept. 5!
Blegh. Feeling more than a bit stressed about all I have to do in such a short time. Mostly because I’m so unsure about what comes next, and I’m pretty much not in control. But I also know all that must be done will get done, and it’ll be over before I know it.
Next up: Staging.
My Peace Corps adventure begins with orientation Sept. 6-7 in Philadelphia. This is known as “staging,” when I’ll gather with the other new trainees, in Youth Development and Small Business Development, get a basic lowdown on Peace Corps policies and fill out paperwork.
From Philly, we take a bus to New York, then board a direct, eight-hour flight to Casablanca. (Hard to believe my world can change so quickly.) Next, another bus to Rabat, for a few days in a hotel while we get inoculations (hoping I’m already good on that front!), begin to learn about our program sectors and maybe even see a bit of the capital city.
From there, the intensive 11-week training program begins. My Youth Development colleagues and I will move to Azrou, a small city 2.5 hours east of Rabat. At our seminar site we’ll be immersed in language lessons, develop skills for our new jobs, and learn about cultural adaptability, safety and staying healthy. I’ll be living with a host family in order to further practice my language and cultural skills.
But we’ll also spend a certain amount of time in “community-based training,” traveling in small groups to villages where we can start practicing our job skills. That means we’ll be practicing our ability to work in established “dar chababs,” or youth centers. It also means a second host family and a lot of back-and-forth travel.
Throughout the three months of training, I’ll face regular evaluations on my language and technical progress. Sometime in October, I’ll learn my permanent site for the next two years, and I’ll be sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer on Nov. 20 – two days after my 41st birthday.
Currently reading: "Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books," Azar Nafisi
Currently hearing: "What I Be," Michael Franti
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
On the Trigger.
Last night was such fun. Korb and I went to see Triggertown at Box Awesome. My darling friend Joellen's darling daughter Terry is the fiddler. And despite having seen them several times now, I only just made the connection between Brad the awesome Community CROPS guy and Brad the badass washtub bass player. They make bluegrass cool. They'll be at the Zoo with the Bellflowers on Aug. 21. Go see 'em ... and buy me a beer!
(photo by proud mama Joellen)
Down on the farm.
Worked my ass off yesterday (when stupid Blogger wouldn't accept my post), volunteering for Community CROPS. No, wait, my ass is still there ... but I did work the skin off my fingers in several places. And it felt great.
Killing myself that I didn't bring my camera. This was my first visit to the farm out west of town. What a cool setup!
For some serendipitous reason, they were awash in volunteers -- five of us. We did a lot of weeding (a LOT of weeding, my favorite activity) ... fixed some drip lines ... put up a snow fence for cucumbers to climb up ... planted a new crop of carrots ... and cleaned up a bunch of miscellaneous junk. I helped an Iraqi newcomer harvest cucumbers and yellow squash. He couldn't speak English, but he gave me an Armenian cucumber -- yellow-green, soft and sweet. No conversation, but we each gnawed on a cucumber, smiling at each other, admiring his rows of bounty. Came home with two yellow squash and a handful of beets. Should be home roasting veggies right now.
Getting closer to Peace (Corps)
Finally got information on my Peace Corps staging, the two-day orientation session before we leave the country. Sept. 6-7 in Philadelphia. I leave Lincoln at 10:55 a.m. on Sept. 5. Seems it's really happening.
We'll be arriving in Morocco just a few days after the beginning of Ramadan. Won't be expected to fast, although it may be difficult to find food during the day. I might give it a try, just to better understand people's sensibilities during this time.
I did a practice pack earlier this week. It's not going to be nearly as difficult as I'd thought to meet the luggage size/weight requirements (two checked bags for a combined total of 107 linear inches and 70 pounds). I still have to cut back some of the toiletries that take up too much space and weight.
It's so funny ...much of the reason I was attracted to Peace Corps was the idea of learning to live with less -- a lot less. To better understand how most of the world lives. But when it comes down to it, I'm having a hard time giving up some silly luxuries: "But I need my facial exfoliant!" The packing guidelines will make some of the decisions for me. And, as my summer is already proving to me, the less I learn to live with, the easier it becomes.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The gang.
Lot of family time this weekend. On Saturday, we all went to Emma's recital for strings day camp. After only five days on the half-bass, she can bow and pick like a pro. Well, a half-pro, at least. Seriously, it was impressive.
On Sunday, I drove with her mom to drop Emma off for her second year at Camp Kitaki. Mama was emotional. Emma was not (see above).
Then we careened back to Lincoln to watch Chip's last t-ball game. Nothing better than sitting in the late-afternoon, 102-degree sun, watching little boys who don't quite get the concept of being tagged out, or of throwing to any base but first.
Afterward, we got ice cream. Ryan goes for the full-immersion style of indulgence.
-----------
Speaking of families, I'm reading the most interesting book. It's an oral history of multiple generations of a rural Moroccan family, told from two viewpoints -- that of a strongly religious Muslim man with extremely traditional views, and that of his cousin, a U.S. immigrant with a modern viewpoint, especially on the role of women in her country and her family.
The book is a quarter-century old (the local libraries have very little available on recent Moroccan history), but I imagine it's still quite useful and reflective of rural traditions and beliefs. The extent of the misogeny shouldn't shock me, I suppose, but it does. (So does the anti-Jewish and anti-"Christian" -- catchall for "western -- sentiment.)
Women are expected not to leave the home -- unless they are doing the marketing or are somehow ekeing out a living when their husbands will not; yet even for that -- for selling in a public marketplace, or working in a sweatshop for pennies, under a male boss -- they are criticized, often even ostracized, within their family and their village. Certainly a woman is never, ever, out in the evening unless she's a prostitute. Women measure their offspring with two numbers -- the number they've born, and the number (usually around half, but still easily six or more) that have survived past infancy. And for their decades of hard work to take care of their family, they're criticized for their wrinkles and paunch, referred to as "One whose face looks like a mule," etc.
I've been wondering how I'll handle the harassment that I'm assured I'll encounter in Morocco. Western-looking women have it worst, but it is common, apparently, for all women to be harassed on a daily, constant basis. Stares, tongue-clicking and muttering when walking by are the best of it; at worst, I can count on being groped (especially in crowded, anonymous places) and even having my hair stroked and pulled (blonde tresses being such an anomoly in rural areas).
My dear friend Meleeska and I have a new tradition of evening walks, after the worst heat of the day, up around the state Capitol. Walking through my new temporary 'hood, just south of downtown, is the only place in Lincoln where I've encountered anything like the harassment that is commonplace whenever I travel. Can't go a block, some days, without a whistle or catcall. This is not a compliment, for those of you who may be thinking it so. It's a misplaced expression of power by those who generally feel powerless. It's uncomfortable to walk on by without "educating" the offender (also known as giving a piece of my mind), but to engage is only to prolong.
Like much else I've been encountering this summer -- the oppressive heat, the bouts of loneliness, the general instability/uncertainty -- I can only take the optimistic view that this is very good training for what lies ahead. As one current volunteer in Morocco, pointed out, such experiences will give me perspective on and strong solidarity with the women I hope to serve.
Haven't heard about travel plans yet, but I expect to be leaving Lincoln a month from today or tomorrow!
-----------
Quote of the day: "When a woman has had a hard life it is said that she has been cursed by her parents or her husband because of some evil that she has done. When a man has had a hard life, it is said that he is unlucky."
-- Fatima Zohra, "The House of Si Abd Allah: The Oral History of a Moroccan Family
-----------
Currently listening to: "Meet Podington Bear"; Coffee Break French.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Intolerance unveiled.
Did you read about the Moroccan-born woman who was denied French citizenship because she chooses to veil her face?
Read it here: A veil closes France's door to citizenship
The idea of the veil stirs mixed emotions in me, of course. I detest the idea of a woman believing it is necessary to hide herself. And I try hard to believe that men are trustworthy enough creatures that we needn’t worry about fanning the flames of their lust as we simply go about our daily lives.
I don’t like the concept of the veil.
Yet it is not for a free, democratic society to tell a woman she CANNOT wear the veil. Certainly it can decree that no one else can force a woman under the veil. Certainly it may advocate the tossing aside of the veil along with other misogynistic concepts. But in telling this woman she cannot exercise her free will, France aligns itself with the very same strictures it seeks to outlaw.
Below the surface.
I’d not heard of Kay Ryan before she was named poet laureate last week. In browsing through some of her work, I felt this one particularly speaking to me:
Surfaces
By Kay Ryan
Surfaces serve
their own purposes,
strive to remain
constant (all lives
want that). There is
a skin, not just on
peaches but on oceans
(note the telltale
slough of foam on beaches).
Sometimes it’s loose,
as in the case
of cats: you feel how a
second life slides
under it. Sometimes it
fits. Take glass.
Sometimes it outlasts
its underside. Take reefs.
The private lives of surfaces
are innocent, not devious.
Take the one-dimensional
belief of enamel in itself,
the furious autonomy
of luster (crush a pearl —
it’s powder), the whole
curious seamlessness
of how we’re each surrounded
and what it doesn’t teach.
Mixing it up.
In one of the many time-sucking, space-filling, procrastination-aiding tasks I have set myself this summer, thus successfully avoiding such worthier pursuits as learning the language I’ll need for the next two years or losing 20 pounds through daily 40-mile bicycle rides, I’ve been entertaining myself with the creation of new mix lists. To wit:
Waiting for Peace (Corps): Becki’s Summer ’08 mix
(tunes I’m listening to lately – some new, some old, some relevant, some not)
Wake Up / The Arcade Fire
Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again) / Wilco
Play / Kate Nash
In Step / Girl Talk
I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You / Black Kids
When the Day Met the Night / Panic! At the Disco
Candy / The Self-Righteous Brothers
I Like It, I Love It / Lyrics Born
Ooh La La / Goldfrapp
L3t Teh Be34t C0ns013 Yov (Pewep Merix) / Tilly & The Wall
It's the Beat / Simian Mobile Disco
Bust a Move / Young MC
Think Afrika / Seun Kuti
The Electric Version / The New Pornographers
Natural's Not In It / Gang of Four
Dissolved Girl / Massive Attack
Ramblin' (Wo)man / Cat Power
Excursions / A Tribe Called Quest
Adventure / Be Your Own Pet
say i am / Tom Tom Club
I'm The Toughest Girl Alive / Candye Kane
The Future Freaks Me Out / Motion City Soundtrack
Noisy Summer mix
(fairly obvious, I think)
Noisy Summer / Raveonettes
sunshine and ecstasy / Tom Tom Club
Summer Daze / Luscious Jackson
Another Fine Day / Golden Smog
The Summer / Yo La Tengo
Blister in the Sun / Violent Femmes
Sunshine / The Meat Purveyors
Broken A/C Blues / Duane Jarvis
Ice Cream Cone / The Tijuana Gigolos
Machines of Summer / Drive-By Honky
Sun In My Mouth / Björk
Summer In The City / Regina Spektor
Asleep on a Sunbeam / Belle & Sebastian
Beneath The Blue Sky / The Go-Go's
Summer Teeth / Wilco
Sunshine / Floetry
Sunday Sun / Cinematics
Looking at the Sun / Matthew Sweet
It's Summertime / The Flaming Lips
Red Sun / Neil Young
Sunset / Kate Bush
Starlit / Erin McKeown
Under the Covers
(cover tunes you might not have expected)
Smells Like Teen Spirit / Tori Amos
Oops! ... I Did It Again / Richard Thompson
Yo vivire (I Will Survive) / Celia Cruz
Love Will Tear Us Apart / Nouvelle Vague
Stand by Your Man / Lyle Lovett
She's a Lady / The Self-Righteous Brothers
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction / Cat Power
Every Rose Has Its Thorn / Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys
Shine / Dolly Parton
Joy / Bettye LaVette
Comfortably Numb / Dar Williams w/Ani DiFranco
Rebel Rebel / Seu Jorge
Wooly Bully / Billy Bacon And The Forbidden Pigs
The Hokey Pokey / Brave Combo
Breathless / X
Good Lovin' / Grateful Dead
Ain't That Peculiar / Chocolate Genius
Let's Get It On / Jack Black
Gloria / Patti Smith
Baba O'Riley / The Waco Brothers
Quote of the day:
"I arise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." — E. B. White
Read it here: A veil closes France's door to citizenship
The idea of the veil stirs mixed emotions in me, of course. I detest the idea of a woman believing it is necessary to hide herself. And I try hard to believe that men are trustworthy enough creatures that we needn’t worry about fanning the flames of their lust as we simply go about our daily lives.
I don’t like the concept of the veil.
Yet it is not for a free, democratic society to tell a woman she CANNOT wear the veil. Certainly it can decree that no one else can force a woman under the veil. Certainly it may advocate the tossing aside of the veil along with other misogynistic concepts. But in telling this woman she cannot exercise her free will, France aligns itself with the very same strictures it seeks to outlaw.
Below the surface.
I’d not heard of Kay Ryan before she was named poet laureate last week. In browsing through some of her work, I felt this one particularly speaking to me:
Surfaces
By Kay Ryan
Surfaces serve
their own purposes,
strive to remain
constant (all lives
want that). There is
a skin, not just on
peaches but on oceans
(note the telltale
slough of foam on beaches).
Sometimes it’s loose,
as in the case
of cats: you feel how a
second life slides
under it. Sometimes it
fits. Take glass.
Sometimes it outlasts
its underside. Take reefs.
The private lives of surfaces
are innocent, not devious.
Take the one-dimensional
belief of enamel in itself,
the furious autonomy
of luster (crush a pearl —
it’s powder), the whole
curious seamlessness
of how we’re each surrounded
and what it doesn’t teach.
Mixing it up.
In one of the many time-sucking, space-filling, procrastination-aiding tasks I have set myself this summer, thus successfully avoiding such worthier pursuits as learning the language I’ll need for the next two years or losing 20 pounds through daily 40-mile bicycle rides, I’ve been entertaining myself with the creation of new mix lists. To wit:
Waiting for Peace (Corps): Becki’s Summer ’08 mix
(tunes I’m listening to lately – some new, some old, some relevant, some not)
Wake Up / The Arcade Fire
Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again) / Wilco
Play / Kate Nash
In Step / Girl Talk
I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You / Black Kids
When the Day Met the Night / Panic! At the Disco
Candy / The Self-Righteous Brothers
I Like It, I Love It / Lyrics Born
Ooh La La / Goldfrapp
L3t Teh Be34t C0ns013 Yov (Pewep Merix) / Tilly & The Wall
It's the Beat / Simian Mobile Disco
Bust a Move / Young MC
Think Afrika / Seun Kuti
The Electric Version / The New Pornographers
Natural's Not In It / Gang of Four
Dissolved Girl / Massive Attack
Ramblin' (Wo)man / Cat Power
Excursions / A Tribe Called Quest
Adventure / Be Your Own Pet
say i am / Tom Tom Club
I'm The Toughest Girl Alive / Candye Kane
The Future Freaks Me Out / Motion City Soundtrack
Noisy Summer mix
(fairly obvious, I think)
Noisy Summer / Raveonettes
sunshine and ecstasy / Tom Tom Club
Summer Daze / Luscious Jackson
Another Fine Day / Golden Smog
The Summer / Yo La Tengo
Blister in the Sun / Violent Femmes
Sunshine / The Meat Purveyors
Broken A/C Blues / Duane Jarvis
Ice Cream Cone / The Tijuana Gigolos
Machines of Summer / Drive-By Honky
Sun In My Mouth / Björk
Summer In The City / Regina Spektor
Asleep on a Sunbeam / Belle & Sebastian
Beneath The Blue Sky / The Go-Go's
Summer Teeth / Wilco
Sunshine / Floetry
Sunday Sun / Cinematics
Looking at the Sun / Matthew Sweet
It's Summertime / The Flaming Lips
Red Sun / Neil Young
Sunset / Kate Bush
Starlit / Erin McKeown
Under the Covers
(cover tunes you might not have expected)
Smells Like Teen Spirit / Tori Amos
Oops! ... I Did It Again / Richard Thompson
Yo vivire (I Will Survive) / Celia Cruz
Love Will Tear Us Apart / Nouvelle Vague
Stand by Your Man / Lyle Lovett
She's a Lady / The Self-Righteous Brothers
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction / Cat Power
Every Rose Has Its Thorn / Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys
Shine / Dolly Parton
Joy / Bettye LaVette
Comfortably Numb / Dar Williams w/Ani DiFranco
Rebel Rebel / Seu Jorge
Wooly Bully / Billy Bacon And The Forbidden Pigs
The Hokey Pokey / Brave Combo
Breathless / X
Good Lovin' / Grateful Dead
Ain't That Peculiar / Chocolate Genius
Let's Get It On / Jack Black
Gloria / Patti Smith
Baba O'Riley / The Waco Brothers
Quote of the day:
"I arise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." — E. B. White
Monday, July 14, 2008
Music, man.
Amy and I indulged in a bit of cultural whiplash on Saturday evening. First, we took her young’uns to “The Music Man” at Pinewood Bowl. I’m not a fan of the theater … especially local productions … most especially musicals … and “The Music Man” is right at the bottom of the genre, as far as I’m concerned.
But we had such a great time. In my 20 years in Lincoln, I’ve never done the Pinewood Bowl thing, so it was nice to cross that off my life list before I leave. It’s a gorgeous setting, everyone’s friendly and laid-back, and the company couldn’t be beat.
We ducked out as the actors were taking their bows, rushed the kids off to a sleepover, and Amy and I managed to get down to the Zoo Bar’s outdoor anniversary block party in time to hear half a dozen of the Self-Righteous Brothers’ greatest hits. They still put on a kick-ass show … their classic cover of “She’s a Lady,” the originals “Candy” and “Have Fun With Your Penis,” and a thumping version of “Billie Jean.” I want Mr. Righteous and Sonny Righteous to teach me how to dance. I want the band to get back together.
Books, not bombs.
Nicholas Kristof’s oped column Sunday referenced Greg Mortenson, subject of the book I just finished (see my Goodreads review), “Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations ... One School at a Time.” It’s a pretty startling juxtaposition: Bush promises $10 billion (so far) to Pakistan so its military will stay friends with our military, so we can keep bombing the hell out of families, schools and communities in the name of “fighting terror.” Mortenson hasn’t a fraction of the military complex budget, yet he’s well on his way to transforming society in rural Pakistan by building schools so everyone can get an education and not feel the need to resort to terror.
Who would you rather have in charge?
He's not really a girl, and he doesn't really talk. Well, he kind of raps.
My new summer soundtrack is “Feed the Animals” by Girl Talk, aka Gregg Gillis. He’s like the William Rice Burroughs of mixmasters, pouring out a plethora of pop favorites from the ‘60s through the aughts, cutting them up and mashing them back together into something brilliant. If you think Salt N’ Pepa, Deee-Lite, the Traveling Wilburys, Nirvana, Earth Wind and Fire and the Beach Boys (and more) can’t be combined into a brilliantly danceable new single, then you haven’t heard Girl Talk.
Quote of the week:
"Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter!"
-- "President" George Bush on leaving the G8 summit where next to no agreement was reached on the need to adapt to the climate change crisis.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/2277298/President-George-Bush-'Goodbye-from-the-world's-biggest-polluter'.html#continue
But we had such a great time. In my 20 years in Lincoln, I’ve never done the Pinewood Bowl thing, so it was nice to cross that off my life list before I leave. It’s a gorgeous setting, everyone’s friendly and laid-back, and the company couldn’t be beat.
We ducked out as the actors were taking their bows, rushed the kids off to a sleepover, and Amy and I managed to get down to the Zoo Bar’s outdoor anniversary block party in time to hear half a dozen of the Self-Righteous Brothers’ greatest hits. They still put on a kick-ass show … their classic cover of “She’s a Lady,” the originals “Candy” and “Have Fun With Your Penis,” and a thumping version of “Billie Jean.” I want Mr. Righteous and Sonny Righteous to teach me how to dance. I want the band to get back together.
Books, not bombs.
Nicholas Kristof’s oped column Sunday referenced Greg Mortenson, subject of the book I just finished (see my Goodreads review), “Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations ... One School at a Time.” It’s a pretty startling juxtaposition: Bush promises $10 billion (so far) to Pakistan so its military will stay friends with our military, so we can keep bombing the hell out of families, schools and communities in the name of “fighting terror.” Mortenson hasn’t a fraction of the military complex budget, yet he’s well on his way to transforming society in rural Pakistan by building schools so everyone can get an education and not feel the need to resort to terror.
Who would you rather have in charge?
He's not really a girl, and he doesn't really talk. Well, he kind of raps.
My new summer soundtrack is “Feed the Animals” by Girl Talk, aka Gregg Gillis. He’s like the William Rice Burroughs of mixmasters, pouring out a plethora of pop favorites from the ‘60s through the aughts, cutting them up and mashing them back together into something brilliant. If you think Salt N’ Pepa, Deee-Lite, the Traveling Wilburys, Nirvana, Earth Wind and Fire and the Beach Boys (and more) can’t be combined into a brilliantly danceable new single, then you haven’t heard Girl Talk.
Quote of the week:
"Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter!"
-- "President" George Bush on leaving the G8 summit where next to no agreement was reached on the need to adapt to the climate change crisis.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/2277298/President-George-Bush-'Goodbye-from-the-world's-biggest-polluter'.html#continue
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Change is coming.
Now that I have my medical clearance, the Peace Corps wheels suddenly turn more quickly. Kind of mirrors how winter drags on, and then it seems so suddenly the tulip pips have burst out of the ground, the air smells of fresh earth and the sunshine makes all the difference in the world in warmth and morale.
My placement officer called Friday. I'm still being considered for an African placement, and the program she's looking at would leave in June. I should get my invitation in a week or so.
The biggest surprise: While my HIV volunteer work will come in handy wherever I land, she said, she's actually looking at me for a gardening/community agriculture placement. I'm thrilled ... and slightly intimidated. I know how to play at gardening in my back yard, yet even that never turns out nearly as well as I envision before I start planting. Who am I to teach anyone about cultivating an entirely different kind of earth, under a virtually different sun?
In hearing me go on about my fears of agricultural inadequacy, Miz Jill asked if I'd read Barbara Kingsolver's "The Poisonwood Bible," about a missionary family who spend a year in the Congo. Strangely, I'd never read it -- despite being a huge Kingsolver fan and this universally acknowledged as her best novel.
"Just remember," Jill said, "if they plant in mounds, follow their lead."
Good advice. If only the Rev. Price had been more willing to learn from those he'd sent himself to "save."
Started the book this weekend and hope to make it last it through the coming week's vacation. It may be a novel, I may not end up in the Congo, but I can already tell that gardening in mounds isn't the only tip I'll get out of this.
Speaking of books ...
Check out my Goodreads page. It's a cool site Miz K turned me on to. You can keep track of the books you've read, write reviews, and see what other people have to say about the books they're reading.
http://www.goodreads.com
It's not too loud, but apparently I'm too old.
If I were as hip as I like to think I am, instead of writing this I'd be dancing to X at Sokol Underground. Tickets $20, venue an hour away, on a Sunday night when I have to work in the morning ...
Back in the day this was one of my favorite bands, Exene my squeaky wailing heroine. I've never had the opportunity to see them.
Who have I become?
Well, I'd better become someone more focused on selling a house and tying up loose ends. I may have only a couple of months before my next big adventure. ...
My placement officer called Friday. I'm still being considered for an African placement, and the program she's looking at would leave in June. I should get my invitation in a week or so.
The biggest surprise: While my HIV volunteer work will come in handy wherever I land, she said, she's actually looking at me for a gardening/community agriculture placement. I'm thrilled ... and slightly intimidated. I know how to play at gardening in my back yard, yet even that never turns out nearly as well as I envision before I start planting. Who am I to teach anyone about cultivating an entirely different kind of earth, under a virtually different sun?
In hearing me go on about my fears of agricultural inadequacy, Miz Jill asked if I'd read Barbara Kingsolver's "The Poisonwood Bible," about a missionary family who spend a year in the Congo. Strangely, I'd never read it -- despite being a huge Kingsolver fan and this universally acknowledged as her best novel.
"Just remember," Jill said, "if they plant in mounds, follow their lead."
Good advice. If only the Rev. Price had been more willing to learn from those he'd sent himself to "save."
Started the book this weekend and hope to make it last it through the coming week's vacation. It may be a novel, I may not end up in the Congo, but I can already tell that gardening in mounds isn't the only tip I'll get out of this.
Speaking of books ...
Check out my Goodreads page. It's a cool site Miz K turned me on to. You can keep track of the books you've read, write reviews, and see what other people have to say about the books they're reading.
http://www.goodreads.com
It's not too loud, but apparently I'm too old.
If I were as hip as I like to think I am, instead of writing this I'd be dancing to X at Sokol Underground. Tickets $20, venue an hour away, on a Sunday night when I have to work in the morning ...
Back in the day this was one of my favorite bands, Exene my squeaky wailing heroine. I've never had the opportunity to see them.
Who have I become?
Well, I'd better become someone more focused on selling a house and tying up loose ends. I may have only a couple of months before my next big adventure. ...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Now with soundtrack!
Spent an idle Sunday afternoon ... after another lovely Sher-E-Punjab brunch with Meleeska and the Bookstore Maven ... figuring out how to add music to my blog. Playlist/controls at the bottom of the page. Found a site that both makes it easy to upload a playlist and has many of the songs I was looking for. Let me know if anything seems to be misbehaving.
The significance of each:
1) Evolve -- This came out just as I was making a mental 180 and finally figuring out that my life could be what I wanted it to be, not what was expected of me.
2) Free -- From around the same time; the two songs go hand-in-hand for me, for obvious reasons.
3) Girls Like Me -- From the "Valley Girl" soundtrack, like, duh!
4) Bicycle, Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle -- If this doesn't get you in the mood to go tear up the trails, nothing will. "We're on two wheels, baby!"
4) Floorboard Blues -- for one of the best lyrics ever: "It's a fucked-up world but this ol' girl, well, she ain't givin' in."
5) At Last -- for another go-to lyric: "I own every bell that tolls me."
------------
Did you know there's an anti-torture act in Congress? It needs more support to get it to a vote. Can you believe we need to push for support on this?
From Common Dreams: Since the War on Terror began in 2001, detainees in the "care" of American forces have been urinated on, doused with phosphoric acid, sodomized with batons, had their lungs forcibly filled with water, shipped abroad to even more brutal regimes, and so much worse. That's not my America.
You can click the link below to send your representative a message on how you want her/him to vote:
Tell Congress: My America doesn't torture!
Wouldn't hurt to check out how your presidential candidate stands to vote as well.
------------
Rang Miz Amy's doorbell last evening. The inimicable Miz Grace answers the door, with huge fake black glasses, a cute little knit cardigan, floaty skirt, maryjanes.
"Nice hipster librarian look you've got going there," I told her.
"Thank you! That's exactly what I'm going for," she said. Turns out she's practicing her part in the school play.
She returned the compliment: "Did you cut your hair?" she asked.
In nearly a month, she's the third person to notice -- or at least to comment, unsolicited -- on the fact that I've gone darker and chopped a good 3-4 inches off.
It even came up recently at dinner with my family. "Either it's too subtle or it's really horrible," I said.
"Oh, I don't think it's too subtle," my brother shot back.
I love that man.
------------
From her place, Miz Amy and I ventured downtown, met up with Miz Shannon and headed over to Knickerbockers to see the Killigans.
I like Celtic music. I love punk music. I should like Celtic punk, no?
Maybe it was just that I was having one of those "I'm too old" days ... my back so tight and stiff I had trouble even swaying to the music ... and stupidly wearing heels that made my feet scream by night's end.
Even so, I managed to lure a charming gentleman, in full-on biker regalia, who swayed next to me for awhile, whispered an inappropriate compliment into my ear, then introduced himself as "Gascap."
Suddenly we three ladies all had babysitters to get home to -- even me. Plan A was to introduce him to my TWO lesbian lovers, but I was afraid that'd just lead him on.
Sadly, this is the most significant romantic assignation I've had of late.
And, in my hurry to escape, I apparently left my favorite scarf behind. Just a $5 Target knit scarf, an acessory I hope not to need again for a very long time ... but I really like it and am debating whether it's too geeky to call Knickerbockers tomorrow and see if they have it.
Shannon and Amy were grooving away, and that was lovely to see. These ladies deserve a good time!
------------
My evening:
Gym = Good.
(After Indian brunch, followed by an afternoon on the sofa with cookies, which = Bad, but also Good.)
Old men in tuxes singing doo-wop instead of Jane Austen on PBS = Very Bad. (This is how they're trying to solicit Begging Week donations??)
Scrabulous with Miz K = Very Good. My favorite way to end/start the week!
The significance of each:
1) Evolve -- This came out just as I was making a mental 180 and finally figuring out that my life could be what I wanted it to be, not what was expected of me.
2) Free -- From around the same time; the two songs go hand-in-hand for me, for obvious reasons.
3) Girls Like Me -- From the "Valley Girl" soundtrack, like, duh!
4) Bicycle, Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle -- If this doesn't get you in the mood to go tear up the trails, nothing will. "We're on two wheels, baby!"
4) Floorboard Blues -- for one of the best lyrics ever: "It's a fucked-up world but this ol' girl, well, she ain't givin' in."
5) At Last -- for another go-to lyric: "I own every bell that tolls me."
------------
Did you know there's an anti-torture act in Congress? It needs more support to get it to a vote. Can you believe we need to push for support on this?
From Common Dreams: Since the War on Terror began in 2001, detainees in the "care" of American forces have been urinated on, doused with phosphoric acid, sodomized with batons, had their lungs forcibly filled with water, shipped abroad to even more brutal regimes, and so much worse. That's not my America.
You can click the link below to send your representative a message on how you want her/him to vote:
Tell Congress: My America doesn't torture!
Wouldn't hurt to check out how your presidential candidate stands to vote as well.
------------
Rang Miz Amy's doorbell last evening. The inimicable Miz Grace answers the door, with huge fake black glasses, a cute little knit cardigan, floaty skirt, maryjanes.
"Nice hipster librarian look you've got going there," I told her.
"Thank you! That's exactly what I'm going for," she said. Turns out she's practicing her part in the school play.
She returned the compliment: "Did you cut your hair?" she asked.
In nearly a month, she's the third person to notice -- or at least to comment, unsolicited -- on the fact that I've gone darker and chopped a good 3-4 inches off.
It even came up recently at dinner with my family. "Either it's too subtle or it's really horrible," I said.
"Oh, I don't think it's too subtle," my brother shot back.
I love that man.
------------
From her place, Miz Amy and I ventured downtown, met up with Miz Shannon and headed over to Knickerbockers to see the Killigans.
I like Celtic music. I love punk music. I should like Celtic punk, no?
Maybe it was just that I was having one of those "I'm too old" days ... my back so tight and stiff I had trouble even swaying to the music ... and stupidly wearing heels that made my feet scream by night's end.
Even so, I managed to lure a charming gentleman, in full-on biker regalia, who swayed next to me for awhile, whispered an inappropriate compliment into my ear, then introduced himself as "Gascap."
Suddenly we three ladies all had babysitters to get home to -- even me. Plan A was to introduce him to my TWO lesbian lovers, but I was afraid that'd just lead him on.
Sadly, this is the most significant romantic assignation I've had of late.
And, in my hurry to escape, I apparently left my favorite scarf behind. Just a $5 Target knit scarf, an acessory I hope not to need again for a very long time ... but I really like it and am debating whether it's too geeky to call Knickerbockers tomorrow and see if they have it.
Shannon and Amy were grooving away, and that was lovely to see. These ladies deserve a good time!
------------
My evening:
Gym = Good.
(After Indian brunch, followed by an afternoon on the sofa with cookies, which = Bad, but also Good.)
Old men in tuxes singing doo-wop instead of Jane Austen on PBS = Very Bad. (This is how they're trying to solicit Begging Week donations??)
Scrabulous with Miz K = Very Good. My favorite way to end/start the week!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Back in contact.
Yes, I'm alive, and blogging about what I can manage to blog about ...
My top 13 must-sees if I were going to SXSW (in alphabetical order):
Airlane: Who knew there was a Gary Numan tribute band? Back in my techno-emo days I spent much time pondering: Are friends electric?
Body of War: Kimya Dawson's in it, which is all I know and all I need to know. Who's got the crack?
Sera Cahoone: Her first release is one of my favorite driving CDs ... an ethereally folksy voice, sadly complacent in her lulling.
Cockcleaner: List says they're punk. I just like the name. (May substitute Gangbang or The Dicks)
Alejandro Escavedo: Got to see him do the last song of his last set at Antone's last fall. A master songwriter.
The Evangelicals: Like a poppier M. Ward (see below).
Christine Fellows: If anyone makes an overdramatized movie version of my life, "Souvenirs" should be the music that swells over the montage scene just before the anticlimactic end.
Janeane Garofalo: She's listed under the genre "chanteuse." The iTunes store offers no proof. But I'd go just to hear her recite her grocery list. Do you think she has a grocery list? Does Janene do her own shopping? Know what -- I bet she does.
Dawn Landes: So I like folksy, yearny, singer-songwriter chicks. Sue me.
Carolyn Mark: She once partnered with Neko Case as The Corn Sisters. Her song "Not Another Other Woman" cracks me up.
The Sadies: Another former Neko collaborator. Think they were her backing band for her cover of Loretta Lynn's "Rated X," which is in my list of Top 10 Songs I Karaoke in the Privacy of My Own Home, Complete With Choreography And Costume Changes All Worked Out In My Head)
She and Him: Zooey Deschanel with M. Ward. Her floaty voice surprisingly substantial, and a great match for his lush orchestration
Yo La Tengo: They're amazingly diverse ... each CD so different from the last.
Not on the list:
Eagle Seagull: 'Cuz we're lucky enough to be able to see them right here at home.
Tilly and the Wall: Ditto. (Though seeing them at Sokol last summer, surrounded by, oh, I'd guess 13- to 14-year-olds, made me feel Too Damn Old To Do This Shit Anymore.)
Tia Carerra: Seeing her on the list summoned up that old "Sesame Street" song: "One of these things is not like the other ... which one doesn't belong?"
Sigh ... but you know, despite your friendly hometown newspaper dropping a load of money to send a certain over-the-hill reporter to Austin each year to cover this showcase for new bands, all we'll be fed in GZ is REM and Van Morrison and whatever other aging rockers Le K. can still manage to identify with. (See last year's story on Iggy Pop, 30-some years too late.) Bonus points if L.K. passed said rockers in a hotel lobby once so he can wax on and on about how they're such good ol' friends ...
And, if I hadn't publicly committed myself to buying no new music for two months, these would be mine:
Goldfrapp: I like the new CD, "Seventh Heaven," but think I need "Supernature" more.
She and Him: Volume One. Hm, think maybe it's not out yet, so I'm not yet missing out.
Can I cheat, just a little, and get these in time for the family roadtrip to Lake of the Ozarks at month's end? Think the folks would mind if I popped these in their CD player? You know, in between the barbershop and the Basie???
My top 13 must-sees if I were going to SXSW (in alphabetical order):
Airlane: Who knew there was a Gary Numan tribute band? Back in my techno-emo days I spent much time pondering: Are friends electric?
Body of War: Kimya Dawson's in it, which is all I know and all I need to know. Who's got the crack?
Sera Cahoone: Her first release is one of my favorite driving CDs ... an ethereally folksy voice, sadly complacent in her lulling.
Cockcleaner: List says they're punk. I just like the name. (May substitute Gangbang or The Dicks)
Alejandro Escavedo: Got to see him do the last song of his last set at Antone's last fall. A master songwriter.
The Evangelicals: Like a poppier M. Ward (see below).
Christine Fellows: If anyone makes an overdramatized movie version of my life, "Souvenirs" should be the music that swells over the montage scene just before the anticlimactic end.
Janeane Garofalo: She's listed under the genre "chanteuse." The iTunes store offers no proof. But I'd go just to hear her recite her grocery list. Do you think she has a grocery list? Does Janene do her own shopping? Know what -- I bet she does.
Dawn Landes: So I like folksy, yearny, singer-songwriter chicks. Sue me.
Carolyn Mark: She once partnered with Neko Case as The Corn Sisters. Her song "Not Another Other Woman" cracks me up.
The Sadies: Another former Neko collaborator. Think they were her backing band for her cover of Loretta Lynn's "Rated X," which is in my list of Top 10 Songs I Karaoke in the Privacy of My Own Home, Complete With Choreography And Costume Changes All Worked Out In My Head)
She and Him: Zooey Deschanel with M. Ward. Her floaty voice surprisingly substantial, and a great match for his lush orchestration
Yo La Tengo: They're amazingly diverse ... each CD so different from the last.
Not on the list:
Eagle Seagull: 'Cuz we're lucky enough to be able to see them right here at home.
Tilly and the Wall: Ditto. (Though seeing them at Sokol last summer, surrounded by, oh, I'd guess 13- to 14-year-olds, made me feel Too Damn Old To Do This Shit Anymore.)
Tia Carerra: Seeing her on the list summoned up that old "Sesame Street" song: "One of these things is not like the other ... which one doesn't belong?"
Sigh ... but you know, despite your friendly hometown newspaper dropping a load of money to send a certain over-the-hill reporter to Austin each year to cover this showcase for new bands, all we'll be fed in GZ is REM and Van Morrison and whatever other aging rockers Le K. can still manage to identify with. (See last year's story on Iggy Pop, 30-some years too late.) Bonus points if L.K. passed said rockers in a hotel lobby once so he can wax on and on about how they're such good ol' friends ...
And, if I hadn't publicly committed myself to buying no new music for two months, these would be mine:
Goldfrapp: I like the new CD, "Seventh Heaven," but think I need "Supernature" more.
She and Him: Volume One. Hm, think maybe it's not out yet, so I'm not yet missing out.
Can I cheat, just a little, and get these in time for the family roadtrip to Lake of the Ozarks at month's end? Think the folks would mind if I popped these in their CD player? You know, in between the barbershop and the Basie???
Friday, February 8, 2008
The price of sanity.
"Optimism is true moral courage." -- Ernest Shackleton
Well, most of y'all know the news by now. I am appealing my Peace Corps rejection -- based, apparently, on a long-ago incident in my battle with depression. (I try not to blame myself for telling the truth on my initial application.)
I'm light-years from where I was eight years ago, and I'm convinced I'll never go to such a dark place again. I know, now, how to veer off the path long before hitting that dead-end.
But hard to convince strangers of that, when I'm just a faceless name on a piece of paper, 1,500 miles away.
Tomorrow I have an appointment for a comprehensive psychological evaluation. If that doesn't prove my sanity, nothing will. And the price of proving it? The low, low one-time payment of $648.
I get one chance at an appeal. It may not be possible to get past the bureaucracy, but I intend to see this all the way through, know I've done everything I could. Turns out I really am committed to this. (Insert joke here).
Inspiration of the day:
“Don’t fuck with me, fellas — this ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”
— Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in "Mommie Dearest"
“You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your own wings on the way down.”
— Ray Bradbury (via Miz K)
Anthems of the day:
I Won’t Back Down / Tom Petty (actually, while I'm loving the sentiment, I hate the song)
I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got / Sinead O'Connor (beautiful message, beautiful song)
Well, most of y'all know the news by now. I am appealing my Peace Corps rejection -- based, apparently, on a long-ago incident in my battle with depression. (I try not to blame myself for telling the truth on my initial application.)
I'm light-years from where I was eight years ago, and I'm convinced I'll never go to such a dark place again. I know, now, how to veer off the path long before hitting that dead-end.
But hard to convince strangers of that, when I'm just a faceless name on a piece of paper, 1,500 miles away.
Tomorrow I have an appointment for a comprehensive psychological evaluation. If that doesn't prove my sanity, nothing will. And the price of proving it? The low, low one-time payment of $648.
I get one chance at an appeal. It may not be possible to get past the bureaucracy, but I intend to see this all the way through, know I've done everything I could. Turns out I really am committed to this. (Insert joke here).
Inspiration of the day:
“Don’t fuck with me, fellas — this ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”
— Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in "Mommie Dearest"
“You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your own wings on the way down.”
— Ray Bradbury (via Miz K)
Anthems of the day:
I Won’t Back Down / Tom Petty (actually, while I'm loving the sentiment, I hate the song)
I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got / Sinead O'Connor (beautiful message, beautiful song)
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Vow of celibacy.
Well, not that kind of celibacy. Don't really need to take a vow to avoid the unavailable. ;-)
No, I have decided to commit to two months without purchasing media in any form. No books, no magazines, no music -- not even a single iTunes download.
Inspired by a friend's pledge to formally forgo something in order to evolve beyond giving it so much emphasis in her life.
The thought occurred to me the other day that I have a difficult time simply enjoying music without acquiring it -- as if, by "owning" it, I can make it my own. (As a girl, I read that Louisa May Alcott started her writing career by copying, over and over, the words she admired by other writers, until her own style evolved. Didn't really happen for me. I wonder if a similar drive isn't at work here?)
So in part this is part of my attempt to stay in the moment ... to simply enjoy what I hear/read and not worry about whether/when I will want to hear/read it again.
Then there's the fact that despite all my whining about living in poverty, I easily drop $100 a month on books and music. Better spent on medical bills ... or -- think of it! -- dropped into my savings account.
Of course, there'll always be music and books that will speak to me strongly enough that I will indeed return to them again and again. A permanent moratorium this is not. In the meantime, I have plenty in my current collections to keep me occupied.
Next up: Can I possibly live without Internet at home? By dropping web/cable service, I'd save another $63 month ... and an infinite amount of free time, without the time-sucking addiction of looking up "just one more thing" ...
------------
Food for thought
That there's whatcha call a pun, people ...
New York Times: Rethinking the Meat Guzzler
An informative look at how consumption (our own over-, and our encouragement of it globally) is contributing substantially to climate change and other woes ...
------------
A weekend in quotes.
"Some people never go crazy,
What truly horrible lives they must live."
-- Charles Bukowski
"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey."
-- Kenji Miyazawa (via Miz K!)
"Every day above ground is good."
-- Shannon on facing up to troubled times
"If it's dangling, you can bitch about it."
-- Shannon on penises
No, I have decided to commit to two months without purchasing media in any form. No books, no magazines, no music -- not even a single iTunes download.
Inspired by a friend's pledge to formally forgo something in order to evolve beyond giving it so much emphasis in her life.
The thought occurred to me the other day that I have a difficult time simply enjoying music without acquiring it -- as if, by "owning" it, I can make it my own. (As a girl, I read that Louisa May Alcott started her writing career by copying, over and over, the words she admired by other writers, until her own style evolved. Didn't really happen for me. I wonder if a similar drive isn't at work here?)
So in part this is part of my attempt to stay in the moment ... to simply enjoy what I hear/read and not worry about whether/when I will want to hear/read it again.
Then there's the fact that despite all my whining about living in poverty, I easily drop $100 a month on books and music. Better spent on medical bills ... or -- think of it! -- dropped into my savings account.
Of course, there'll always be music and books that will speak to me strongly enough that I will indeed return to them again and again. A permanent moratorium this is not. In the meantime, I have plenty in my current collections to keep me occupied.
Next up: Can I possibly live without Internet at home? By dropping web/cable service, I'd save another $63 month ... and an infinite amount of free time, without the time-sucking addiction of looking up "just one more thing" ...
------------
Food for thought
That there's whatcha call a pun, people ...
New York Times: Rethinking the Meat Guzzler
An informative look at how consumption (our own over-, and our encouragement of it globally) is contributing substantially to climate change and other woes ...
------------
A weekend in quotes.
"Some people never go crazy,
What truly horrible lives they must live."
-- Charles Bukowski
"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey."
-- Kenji Miyazawa (via Miz K!)
"Every day above ground is good."
-- Shannon on facing up to troubled times
"If it's dangling, you can bitch about it."
-- Shannon on penises
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Hibernation now, harmattan later?
I am officially boycotting this wintry Nebraska day. Ten degrees out, up considerably from the 5 below when I ventured out to the gym this morning. Now I've decided this day can only be spent cocooning. Snuggled safely indoors, looking out ice-painted windows while reading of the dry harmattan heat of a Peace Corps life in Togo.
Krista, alternatively, has invited me down to Tucson for a hike in a 60-degree winter desert. Sounds lovely, but here is where I am, and here is not so bad.
More than likely, next year this time I'll be bemoaning the hot, dry season wherever I end up in Africa. So, much as I bitch about hating these Nebraska winters, today I am soaking up the good points while I can ... surrounded by afghans and books, pot of tea to hand, thinking chili for supper later and maybe even a starlight walk around the block just to shake my crazy life up a bit.
------------
So I'm comparing George Packer's PC experiences in Togo a quarter-century ago with Sarah Erdman's account of her PC service in Ghana in the late '90s. What's most depressing is that so little seems to have changed, development-wise, in the intervening years. Electricity and potable water far from the norm for the average village. Education only a nominal priority, and only involving memorization/repetition; comprehending the big picture is actually frowned upon. Any means of grasping one's way out of barely subsistence poverty constantly thwarted, whether by punishing climate or dictatorial government or jealous neighbors.
The haunting overall question, summoned by the stories I've read so far: Does the Peace Corps actually bring any concrete improvements? The next question, of course, has to be how one defines "improvement." These are the issues I'm preparing to grapple with ... on, now, to some new books on the AIDS crisis in Africa.
In related news, a new Lancet study suggests that funds earmarked for fighting the global AIDS crisis might be better spent on health basics such as malnutrition, family planning, clean water and malaria, which kill far more worldwide than AIDS. What's sad is that we think we have to choose which devastating health risks to battle.
-------------
Hmm. The only flaw in my hibernation plan is my failure to have picked up a video or two. Watched "Il Postino" last night for the first time, and fell in love (again) with Pablo Neruda. Terribly sweet, romantic movie.
Quote of the day: "Poetry doesn't belong to those who wrote it, but to those who need it." -- from "Il Postino"
Currently reading: Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, Pablo Neruda
Currently listening: Country for True Lovers, Eleni Mandell
Krista, alternatively, has invited me down to Tucson for a hike in a 60-degree winter desert. Sounds lovely, but here is where I am, and here is not so bad.
More than likely, next year this time I'll be bemoaning the hot, dry season wherever I end up in Africa. So, much as I bitch about hating these Nebraska winters, today I am soaking up the good points while I can ... surrounded by afghans and books, pot of tea to hand, thinking chili for supper later and maybe even a starlight walk around the block just to shake my crazy life up a bit.
------------
So I'm comparing George Packer's PC experiences in Togo a quarter-century ago with Sarah Erdman's account of her PC service in Ghana in the late '90s. What's most depressing is that so little seems to have changed, development-wise, in the intervening years. Electricity and potable water far from the norm for the average village. Education only a nominal priority, and only involving memorization/repetition; comprehending the big picture is actually frowned upon. Any means of grasping one's way out of barely subsistence poverty constantly thwarted, whether by punishing climate or dictatorial government or jealous neighbors.
The haunting overall question, summoned by the stories I've read so far: Does the Peace Corps actually bring any concrete improvements? The next question, of course, has to be how one defines "improvement." These are the issues I'm preparing to grapple with ... on, now, to some new books on the AIDS crisis in Africa.
In related news, a new Lancet study suggests that funds earmarked for fighting the global AIDS crisis might be better spent on health basics such as malnutrition, family planning, clean water and malaria, which kill far more worldwide than AIDS. What's sad is that we think we have to choose which devastating health risks to battle.
-------------
Hmm. The only flaw in my hibernation plan is my failure to have picked up a video or two. Watched "Il Postino" last night for the first time, and fell in love (again) with Pablo Neruda. Terribly sweet, romantic movie.
Quote of the day: "Poetry doesn't belong to those who wrote it, but to those who need it." -- from "Il Postino"
Currently reading: Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, Pablo Neruda
Currently listening: Country for True Lovers, Eleni Mandell
Thursday, January 3, 2008
The big sendoff.
"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." — Andre Gide
My doctor called today. The biopsy, as she expected, showed absolutely nothing. She faxed over the lab report -- the final missing piece of paper for my Peace Corps medical packet.
After all the rushing and cajoling and organizing and angstifying over the past couple of months, it felt a bit anticlimactic to seal the envelope and drop it in the mail this evening. Nothing to do now but wait a couple months or so.
Meanwhile, I'm immersed in books about AIDS in Africa and about the Peace Corps life in general, and so already I have a new topic to obsess over: Can I really do this? The bucket baths, the lack of electricity, the complete lack of privacy, the biting of tongue when cultures clash, the wondering whether I'm really making a difference ...
Do I really have any idea what I'm getting myself into?
I'm sure I don't ... but I'm naively looking forward to the adventure ...
------------
Obama in Iowa!
Things just started to get interesting ...
------------
Who, I wonder, is my new friend in Waukesha, Wisconsin???
------------
Currently reading: "Nine Hills to Nambonkaha: Two Years in the Heart of an African Village," Sarah Erdman
Currently hearing: "Pop-Pop!," Rickie Lee Jones
My doctor called today. The biopsy, as she expected, showed absolutely nothing. She faxed over the lab report -- the final missing piece of paper for my Peace Corps medical packet.
After all the rushing and cajoling and organizing and angstifying over the past couple of months, it felt a bit anticlimactic to seal the envelope and drop it in the mail this evening. Nothing to do now but wait a couple months or so.
Meanwhile, I'm immersed in books about AIDS in Africa and about the Peace Corps life in general, and so already I have a new topic to obsess over: Can I really do this? The bucket baths, the lack of electricity, the complete lack of privacy, the biting of tongue when cultures clash, the wondering whether I'm really making a difference ...
Do I really have any idea what I'm getting myself into?
I'm sure I don't ... but I'm naively looking forward to the adventure ...
------------
Obama in Iowa!
Things just started to get interesting ...
------------
Who, I wonder, is my new friend in Waukesha, Wisconsin???
------------
Currently reading: "Nine Hills to Nambonkaha: Two Years in the Heart of an African Village," Sarah Erdman
Currently hearing: "Pop-Pop!," Rickie Lee Jones
Saturday, December 22, 2007
It's all downhill from here.
The days will begin getting longer again.
I'm not a religious person, but I do make note of the solstices. I like to get up early and pay some conscious attention to the cycles of nature that get us through everything. It's a tradition I started on a beach in Mexico at a pivotal time in my life, and it seems to carry me through every season. To remember all that has been so good, and to remember that everything ebbs and flows.
The precise moment of solstice was 12:08 a.m. central time. So, without even realizing it, I passed solstice by talking on the phone with one of the sweetest souls I know. Good karma, I think. Looking forward to being in this time and place next weekend.
I'm awake early, and alert, but with the sweet luxury of being able to burrow back under the covers and roll back into sleep.
------------
Last night was my last chance to catch the Tijuana Gigolos. Managed to squeeze into the Zoo just in time to hear them finish their last set. Not a bit disappointed, though ... you know how you need to be in a certain mood to hear certain kinds of music, or to have a certain experience? I wasn't in a Zoo frame of mind anyway.
Instead, the mood I was in last night matched the people I caught up with ... some of my favorite people in the world. Discussing music and politics and scatology and Dueling Penguins and family dynamics and the future and everything else there is to discuss.
Happy birthday, Podunk! And happy holidays to my book-clubbing chicas ...
------------
Politically, I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton. I want an unapologetic progressive who doesn't equivocate on the need to get out of world conflicts. And is electable. Pipe dreams, and I don't even have a pipe.
But this Ellen Goodman column really pisses me off. Going off on Rush Limbaugh going off on how America can't handle a Miz Clinton presidency because she's getting older ... and no one wants to see a woman getting older.
She's a year younger than our current president. And only four years older than Limbaugh, who of course is such a treat to gaze upon.
Didn't hear him talking about Thompson's grizzled jowls or McCain's age spots.
How old was Reagan, again? And Bush I? And most of Congress?
Just some political ranting to start my day, get my own gray-haired, crow-footed juices flowing ...
I'm not a religious person, but I do make note of the solstices. I like to get up early and pay some conscious attention to the cycles of nature that get us through everything. It's a tradition I started on a beach in Mexico at a pivotal time in my life, and it seems to carry me through every season. To remember all that has been so good, and to remember that everything ebbs and flows.
The precise moment of solstice was 12:08 a.m. central time. So, without even realizing it, I passed solstice by talking on the phone with one of the sweetest souls I know. Good karma, I think. Looking forward to being in this time and place next weekend.
I'm awake early, and alert, but with the sweet luxury of being able to burrow back under the covers and roll back into sleep.
------------
Last night was my last chance to catch the Tijuana Gigolos. Managed to squeeze into the Zoo just in time to hear them finish their last set. Not a bit disappointed, though ... you know how you need to be in a certain mood to hear certain kinds of music, or to have a certain experience? I wasn't in a Zoo frame of mind anyway.
Instead, the mood I was in last night matched the people I caught up with ... some of my favorite people in the world. Discussing music and politics and scatology and Dueling Penguins and family dynamics and the future and everything else there is to discuss.
Happy birthday, Podunk! And happy holidays to my book-clubbing chicas ...
------------
Politically, I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton. I want an unapologetic progressive who doesn't equivocate on the need to get out of world conflicts. And is electable. Pipe dreams, and I don't even have a pipe.
But this Ellen Goodman column really pisses me off. Going off on Rush Limbaugh going off on how America can't handle a Miz Clinton presidency because she's getting older ... and no one wants to see a woman getting older.
She's a year younger than our current president. And only four years older than Limbaugh, who of course is such a treat to gaze upon.
Didn't hear him talking about Thompson's grizzled jowls or McCain's age spots.
How old was Reagan, again? And Bush I? And most of Congress?
Just some political ranting to start my day, get my own gray-haired, crow-footed juices flowing ...
Sunday, October 28, 2007
I have been assimilated.
An add to the Halloween mix below:
Bodysnatchers / Radiohead
Curse "All Songs Considered"! It always forces me to go buy new music. I resist listening to the podcasts for just this reason ... then I overindulge and listen to, like, five at a time.
I've never been much of a Radiohead fan, but hearing just a few clips from the online release of "In Rainbows" made me crave it. So lush and orchestral ... without the self-indulgent weirdness of "OK Computer." I can't listen to anything else.
Also "have to have" the new Jolie Holland, a Senegalese singer named Youssou N'Dour, and some Chinese punk compilation.
Quote of the day:
"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." -- Andre Gide
Annoyance of the day:
Have you ever finally, after much searching, found exactly the perfect product -- after trying many, rejecting each, finally happened upon the perfect solution to your problem -- and then been unable to find it, anywhere, ever again?
For me, it's a hair clip. It's so great. It has rubber grips so it really stays in place. It's big enough to hold my thick hair. It simply does not budge. And I cannot find another. Anywhere.
If you see such an awesome, rubber, hair-gripping, badass black hair clip, buy it -- I promise I'm good for it.
Also ISO ...
I need a new word. Not a mantra, exactly. I don't know what to call it. I have a word (a name, actually) that is the first thing in my head, on my lips even, in the morning, the last at night. It has absolutely no connection with my current life. Its meaning has long since transcended the person to whom the name is connected. I think it is just the word I put to my yearning for ... more. For what I want my life to be.
And so, entonces, I need to find a new word to associate with this feeling, a substitute I can use to retrain my thought pattern. Something positive; something forward-moving; something that puts me, mentally, in charge of my own destiny, instead of giving a smidgen of even symbolic power to someone long since gone from my life.
Ideas?
OK, off to bed -- up early for my tuberculosis test (for Peace Corps). Wish me luck! ;-)
Bodysnatchers / Radiohead
Curse "All Songs Considered"! It always forces me to go buy new music. I resist listening to the podcasts for just this reason ... then I overindulge and listen to, like, five at a time.
I've never been much of a Radiohead fan, but hearing just a few clips from the online release of "In Rainbows" made me crave it. So lush and orchestral ... without the self-indulgent weirdness of "OK Computer." I can't listen to anything else.
Also "have to have" the new Jolie Holland, a Senegalese singer named Youssou N'Dour, and some Chinese punk compilation.
Quote of the day:
"One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." -- Andre Gide
Annoyance of the day:
Have you ever finally, after much searching, found exactly the perfect product -- after trying many, rejecting each, finally happened upon the perfect solution to your problem -- and then been unable to find it, anywhere, ever again?
For me, it's a hair clip. It's so great. It has rubber grips so it really stays in place. It's big enough to hold my thick hair. It simply does not budge. And I cannot find another. Anywhere.
If you see such an awesome, rubber, hair-gripping, badass black hair clip, buy it -- I promise I'm good for it.
Also ISO ...
I need a new word. Not a mantra, exactly. I don't know what to call it. I have a word (a name, actually) that is the first thing in my head, on my lips even, in the morning, the last at night. It has absolutely no connection with my current life. Its meaning has long since transcended the person to whom the name is connected. I think it is just the word I put to my yearning for ... more. For what I want my life to be.
And so, entonces, I need to find a new word to associate with this feeling, a substitute I can use to retrain my thought pattern. Something positive; something forward-moving; something that puts me, mentally, in charge of my own destiny, instead of giving a smidgen of even symbolic power to someone long since gone from my life.
Ideas?
OK, off to bed -- up early for my tuberculosis test (for Peace Corps). Wish me luck! ;-)
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Giving up the ghost.
My darling friend Miz N sent me her annual Halloween mix CD this week. It rocks! If she posts her own playlist, I'll link to it. (and she has!)
I am lazy this year, so no mix for y'all. But here's what I'd do if I *were* to make a mix. Feel free to DIY.
The Devil Never Sleeps / Iron and Wine
Candy Everybody Wants / 10,000 Maniacs
Howl at the Moon / Tijuana Gigolos
Night of the Living Dead / Tilly & the Wall
People Who Died / Jim Carroll Band
Witches / Cowboy Junkies
Deathly / Aimee Mann
Ghost Ranch / Beck
Happy Phantom / Tori Amos
The Hungry Wolf / X
The Devil Had a Hold on Me / Gillian Welch
The Moon Is Shining / Indigenous
I Wish I Was the Moon / Neko Case
Devil Boots / Mark Sandman
Wicked Ways / Garbage
This Devil's Workday / Modest Mouse
Devil in My Car / The B-52's
Moondance / Van Morrison
Ghost Of Yesterday / Billie Holiday
Dark as the Dungeon / Johnny Cash
Pink Moon / Nick Drake
Zombie / Fela Kuti
A bit too long for one CD, I s'pose ...
I am lazy this year, so no mix for y'all. But here's what I'd do if I *were* to make a mix. Feel free to DIY.
The Devil Never Sleeps / Iron and Wine
Candy Everybody Wants / 10,000 Maniacs
Howl at the Moon / Tijuana Gigolos
Night of the Living Dead / Tilly & the Wall
People Who Died / Jim Carroll Band
Witches / Cowboy Junkies
Deathly / Aimee Mann
Ghost Ranch / Beck
Happy Phantom / Tori Amos
The Hungry Wolf / X
The Devil Had a Hold on Me / Gillian Welch
The Moon Is Shining / Indigenous
I Wish I Was the Moon / Neko Case
Devil Boots / Mark Sandman
Wicked Ways / Garbage
This Devil's Workday / Modest Mouse
Devil in My Car / The B-52's
Moondance / Van Morrison
Ghost Of Yesterday / Billie Holiday
Dark as the Dungeon / Johnny Cash
Pink Moon / Nick Drake
Zombie / Fela Kuti
A bit too long for one CD, I s'pose ...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Exhaustin' Austin.
Back from the TX. A lovely, lazy, long weekend. Got to see my friend V play in some non-BSOJC groups -- Latin and country. An all-upright bass weekend, too. No cooler instrument exists.
What-all we did: Met Alejandro Escovedo at Antone's; chilled to some badass soul/dance at the Continental Club; lotsa motorcycle rides, crusing SoCo; played tourist (bats under the overpass, state capitol, O. Henry's house); watched a disturbing Fellini film ("Le Notti de Cabiria") and went to "Darjeeling Limited"; found out I'm surprisingly good at pinball, especially when the machine freaks out and sends out five-six balls at a time ...
What we didn't quite get around to this time around: Riding one of his antique tandem bikes; teaching me to play the cursed "Smoke on the Water" on bass; heading down to the surf.
Now to buckle down and get my medical info in order for PC service.
And looking forward to Tucson in November.
Song of the day: "To Live is to Fly," Cowboy Junkies
To live is to fly
Low and high
So shake the dust out of your wings
and the sleep out of your eyes ...
What-all we did: Met Alejandro Escovedo at Antone's; chilled to some badass soul/dance at the Continental Club; lotsa motorcycle rides, crusing SoCo; played tourist (bats under the overpass, state capitol, O. Henry's house); watched a disturbing Fellini film ("Le Notti de Cabiria") and went to "Darjeeling Limited"; found out I'm surprisingly good at pinball, especially when the machine freaks out and sends out five-six balls at a time ...
What we didn't quite get around to this time around: Riding one of his antique tandem bikes; teaching me to play the cursed "Smoke on the Water" on bass; heading down to the surf.
Now to buckle down and get my medical info in order for PC service.
And looking forward to Tucson in November.
Song of the day: "To Live is to Fly," Cowboy Junkies
To live is to fly
Low and high
So shake the dust out of your wings
and the sleep out of your eyes ...
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Uwei Bo Nua.
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. Write that song name down.
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Murder, Tonight, in the Trailer Park
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I'm Not Afraid to Die
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Ladyfingers
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Sour Times
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
When Flagships Collide
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Dash 7
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Half a Person
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Horse Racing
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I Think I'm Paranoid
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Jimmy
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Shining Star
WHAT SONG WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR WEDDING?
Into the Open
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Heart Full of Soul
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I Will Survive
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Crown of Love
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
All That Innocence
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
If You Were the Woman and I Was the Man
WHAT DOES YOUR WORK/SCHOOL EXPERIENCE ENTAIL?
Song for Innocents
WHAT IS YOUR ROMANTIC SIDE LIKE?
Pa' Todo el An~o
WHAT DOES THE FUTURE HOLD FOR YOU?
Untitled 7
WHAT WILL YOU REPOST THIS AS?
Uwei Bo Nua
Nicked from Miz Nealy ... hers came out eerily prescient ... mine not so much. Obviously, I didn't cheat and find the "perfect" song! A couple of funny ones, though ... what *do* I think of my friends?!?
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. Write that song name down.
HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Murder, Tonight, in the Trailer Park
WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
I'm Not Afraid to Die
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Ladyfingers
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Sour Times
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
When Flagships Collide
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Dash 7
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Half a Person
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Horse Racing
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I Think I'm Paranoid
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Jimmy
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Shining Star
WHAT SONG WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR WEDDING?
Into the Open
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Heart Full of Soul
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
I Will Survive
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
Crown of Love
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
All That Innocence
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
If You Were the Woman and I Was the Man
WHAT DOES YOUR WORK/SCHOOL EXPERIENCE ENTAIL?
Song for Innocents
WHAT IS YOUR ROMANTIC SIDE LIKE?
Pa' Todo el An~o
WHAT DOES THE FUTURE HOLD FOR YOU?
Untitled 7
WHAT WILL YOU REPOST THIS AS?
Uwei Bo Nua
Nicked from Miz Nealy ... hers came out eerily prescient ... mine not so much. Obviously, I didn't cheat and find the "perfect" song! A couple of funny ones, though ... what *do* I think of my friends?!?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Impatient? Me?
Suddenly the morning glories have taken to flowering after all. They're supposed to be solid summer bloomers, but whatever; take what you can get when you can get it, I always say. Nothing prettier than a blue flower.
Sensory overload
With all the money I don't have in my bank account, I went on a bit of a music binge this week. To wit:
"Breathing Under Water," Anoushka Shankar with Karsh Kale (daughter of Ravi, half-sis of Norah Jones, haunting Indian melodies/instruments with a distinct fusion flavor)
"Kala," M.I.A. (Sri Lankan female hiphop ... I'd meant to get this when it came out a couple years ago, but listening to her new disc just made me want this one even more ... a bit rougher around the edges)
"Betty Davis," Betty Davis ('70s funk that's like Macy Gray meets jazz meets disco ... thanks to Miz K for turning me on to her, but HOW could I never have heard of her before???)
"This is Trip-Bop," Fez Dispenser (globally ethereal trip-hop, thanks again to Miz K, but PLEASE stop introducing me to new music!! I can't afford it! "Rock on, girl!")
"Another Fine Day," Golden Smog (former side project of Jeff Tweedy and one of the Jayhawks)
"Please Panic," The Vulgar Boatmen (think I found them via NPR's "All Songs Considered" ... mid-'90s postgrunge, almost Wilco-y poplike, at least to my ear ...)
"The Very Best of The Last Poets," (so you thought the Sugar Hill Gang invented rap? Then you need to hear this spoken-word-over-bass-beat from the late '60s / early '70s. Afros and all. The revolution comes!")
"Mezzanine," Massive Attack (more older, layered, ethereal trip-hop ... what can I say? It's the mood I'm in lately...)
In my defense, most of these were used discs, so I'm just saving them from the landfill, right? Still, if my ears were my stomach, they'd be all bloaty right now ... must learn to pace myself ...
I "love" this "blog"!
The Associated Press had a story today on this blog devoted to "unnecessary" quotation "marks."
Which links to other bloggers obsessed with: misuse of the word "literally"; people who leave passive-aggressive notes; and signs in all caps except for the letter "L."
Sadly, the link to a blog about my own pet peeve, misused apostrophes, doesn't work.
Who knew so many could be so obsessed about such minutiae?
Copy editors of the world, untie!
And now, the news
Too lazy/chickenshit to blog politics, so I'll just link. If you haven't heard this shit already, then you're not paying enough attention ...
Student charged with wearing fake bomb (aka a T-SHIRT) to airport
No bail for Jena Six teen
Judge denies Planned Parenthood's request to open clinic
That number again is ...
As of this moment, I have 69 friends on MySpace ... heehee ...
The tables have turned
So it's 10 p.m., I'm nearly through my third High Life and waiting for my parents to come home. How's that for a 180? They're staying with me this weekend for my dad's 40th dental school reunion. I'm resisting the urge to shriek "And just WHERE have you BEEN?" when they come home ... meanwhile, after they leave, I'm going to have to fumigate to rid the place of my dad's aftershave and that just plain old-people smell. How sad ... my folks are old!
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Now it's on.
Bust the lock off the front door
Once you’re outside, you won’t wanna hide anymore
-- Grandaddy
------------
Bigger adventures to come, I hope (more on that below), but for today, at least, I am exactly where I want to be: On the patio, surveying my domain over a High Life. It's been a much-needed day of solitude -- a 20-mile ride this morning, followed by several productive hours in the garden ... clearing out weeds, clearing up the soul. Quiet, sunny but not hot, dirty fingernails ... perfect.
Here's another late-summer garden shot:
Seems like it looks more impressive in photos than it does in real life. Maybe that's true of many things? Good to remember.
------------
I've just sent off a resume and cover letter to the Cambodia Daily, an English-language daily in Phnom Penh. Have I mentioned this before? I applied on a whim just before I moved to New Hampshire; when they actually offered me the job, T and I discussed moving there together, but in the end I turned down the job and went not quite so far east. Always regretted it. A colleague on my Nigeria trip, it turns out, worked there a decade ago; he had high praise for the paper and said I likely hadn't burned any bridges. We'll see.
As for the Peace Corps application, it's ready to go as soon as I can make contact with my recruiter in Denver; I have some technical questions I need to get answered before I hit Send.
Found a copy-editing position in Abu Dhabi this week ... but I think that may be too repressive an environment for me. Can't really see myself wearing a hijab.
What might rise to the top? I have no idea yet. I'll miss this little life I've created for myself. But I'm ready for another, bigger one.
-------------
Though it's been mostly solitary (by choice), the weekend was punctuated by some charming get-togethers with friends. I finally met my online friend vmh (author of this lovely, poetic blog) in person on Friday afternoon; on Saturday I met Meleeska and mini-Meleeska at Jones Coffee; just got off the phone with my new buddy Vance in Austin, who'll be coming this way this week before leaving on a monthlong tour of Europe. Come see his badass band at the Zoo on Thursday, and I'll buy ya a drink!
------------
Oh, and I'm reviewing Edwidge Danticat's new memoir, "Brother, I'm Dying," which comes out next month. Left until age 12 in Haiti with her pastor uncle while her parents forged a new life in New York, she draws on much of her early life in her amazing first novel "Breath, Eyes, Memory." "Brother" recalls her early life, punctuating it with her father's fatal illness and her uncle's detention, in post-9/11 America, while visiting on a routine visa ... he dies without charges (as there are none to bring) and without the medication he desperately pleads for, in vain. I haven't read far enough yet for details, but that's enough to enrage me, once again, at how far we've come from the values we supposedly hold so dear.
And the second chapter's title a question we all should ask ourselves now, before it's too late: Have You Enjoyed Your Life?
Once you’re outside, you won’t wanna hide anymore
-- Grandaddy
------------
Bigger adventures to come, I hope (more on that below), but for today, at least, I am exactly where I want to be: On the patio, surveying my domain over a High Life. It's been a much-needed day of solitude -- a 20-mile ride this morning, followed by several productive hours in the garden ... clearing out weeds, clearing up the soul. Quiet, sunny but not hot, dirty fingernails ... perfect.
Here's another late-summer garden shot:
Seems like it looks more impressive in photos than it does in real life. Maybe that's true of many things? Good to remember.------------
I've just sent off a resume and cover letter to the Cambodia Daily, an English-language daily in Phnom Penh. Have I mentioned this before? I applied on a whim just before I moved to New Hampshire; when they actually offered me the job, T and I discussed moving there together, but in the end I turned down the job and went not quite so far east. Always regretted it. A colleague on my Nigeria trip, it turns out, worked there a decade ago; he had high praise for the paper and said I likely hadn't burned any bridges. We'll see.
As for the Peace Corps application, it's ready to go as soon as I can make contact with my recruiter in Denver; I have some technical questions I need to get answered before I hit Send.
Found a copy-editing position in Abu Dhabi this week ... but I think that may be too repressive an environment for me. Can't really see myself wearing a hijab.
What might rise to the top? I have no idea yet. I'll miss this little life I've created for myself. But I'm ready for another, bigger one.
-------------
Though it's been mostly solitary (by choice), the weekend was punctuated by some charming get-togethers with friends. I finally met my online friend vmh (author of this lovely, poetic blog) in person on Friday afternoon; on Saturday I met Meleeska and mini-Meleeska at Jones Coffee; just got off the phone with my new buddy Vance in Austin, who'll be coming this way this week before leaving on a monthlong tour of Europe. Come see his badass band at the Zoo on Thursday, and I'll buy ya a drink!
------------
Oh, and I'm reviewing Edwidge Danticat's new memoir, "Brother, I'm Dying," which comes out next month. Left until age 12 in Haiti with her pastor uncle while her parents forged a new life in New York, she draws on much of her early life in her amazing first novel "Breath, Eyes, Memory." "Brother" recalls her early life, punctuating it with her father's fatal illness and her uncle's detention, in post-9/11 America, while visiting on a routine visa ... he dies without charges (as there are none to bring) and without the medication he desperately pleads for, in vain. I haven't read far enough yet for details, but that's enough to enrage me, once again, at how far we've come from the values we supposedly hold so dear.
And the second chapter's title a question we all should ask ourselves now, before it's too late: Have You Enjoyed Your Life?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Welcome to the Lincolndome.
I am giggly like a schoolgirl. The legendary Chuck D is speaking in Lincoln next month! Besides having a huge crush on him back in the day (those guns for arms, that booming voice), I've always liked what he says in his music. If I want to feel pissed off or worked up, I listen to PE.
It's a free symposium, Wednesday, Sept. 12 at Wesleyan. Who's in?
------------
I'm no big Jim Carrey fan (except for "Spotless Mind"), but I'm a HUGE fan of Aung San Su Kyi, the Burmese rights activist who has been imprisoned for some 20 years now. So I'm glad to see some mass support being organized to try and finally secure her release.
I can't get the YouTube video to post properly, but here's a link.
------------
Andrew Sullivan has a good blog at The Atlantic on the Larry Craig brouhaha.
What makes me so angry about Craig is that here is someone who typecasts gays as The Other, instead of supporting equality. He has built a career on promoting "family values" -- unless, of course, you're gay, because then you don't have a right to marry or share benefits or, really, come out of the closet (or the bathroom stall, as the case may be).
If he and others had used their congressional power to support equal rights for all, then perhaps repeated generations of men wouldn't feel so ashamed of who they are that they feel forced to resort to anonymous bathroom sex. Instead, he's perpetuating the exact stereotype that got him into the hot water in which he now finds himself.
While I hurt for those who feel they have to hide their real selves, I can't dredge up much sympathy for someone who held the power to change that, for himself and for others, and failed to exercise it.
------------
Couldn't' sleep last night (second night in a row), so I popped "Stranger Than Fiction" into the DVD player. It didn't get good reviews when it came out, but I found it enchanting. (Maybe because I was in and out of sleep/dreams as I was watching?) Definitely a film that captures the short story form. And not your typical Will Ferrell flick, though I like those, too ...
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