S.O.S. – An open letter to my mother November 26, 2009

Dear Mom,

I really wish you didn’t know so much… I wish you couldn’t read me with a single glance, sum up my feelings, and talk to me like I already know how I feel.

I don’t. Or I didn’t…

But, thanks to your offhand confusing statement, I’m even more confused, and now I’m worried about being confused! What do I do now?

I, of course, sit worried, wringing my hands and paying way too much attention to my feelings.

So seriously, you should help me out. Cuz it wasn’t so helpful when you laughed off “love” like it was nothing. It most certainly is… I think. Clearly, you know more about it and you’re able to identify it. Help?

Love,

Your girl.

“S.O.S.” by Abba:

So when you’re near me, darling can’t you hear me
S. O. S.
The love you gave me, nothing else can save me
S. O. S.
When you’re gone
How can I even try to go on?
When you’re gone
Though I try how can I carry on?

Make it better. November 18, 2009

So True November 16, 2009

Play. Laugh. Grow. November 15, 2009

Lately, I’ve had this near-constant feeling of wanting to GET UP AND GO. Maybe you know it: where your butt starts tingling after sitting in a chair for longer than a half hour, and your feet keep twitching, and you look at pictures of Paris and nearly cry.

I know I’m going abroad in the spring, and I’m having lots of fun in Oly and at my apartment and with my friends. And honestly, even though I have the drive, I don’t really have the energy to do much other than just watch other people do amazing things. Eventually I will get to do them, too.

I have a bunch of friends who aren’t in college, and I read a bunch of websites about internships and jobs at all the places I would like to eventually be, like NYTimes, magazines, Pandora.com, and lots of others. In some ways I feel cooped up being in college, in one apartment, one town, one state… with still the same life goals. I don’t have any regrets about getting an education now, but because it’s so expensive and because I hate my class so much, I do wonder if there are many other things I could be working at. I really value the experience I’m getting with the paper (and the advisor talked to me again the other day about becoming editor-in-chief, which is insanely exciting), but I can’t help thinking all the time about the fact that I don’t actually want to work at a paper!

Earlier in the quarter I was telling my parents that usually at college, it’s so easy to just take random classes and get tons of credits and lose sight of where exactly you’re going in an education. You have to plan for what credits to get, but other than that, you’re just taking a bunch of unrelated classes that eventually are supposed to come together and sync up with what you’re interested in. But at Evergreen, it’s harder to not think about your eventual life and academic goals all the time during a program and during the year. If you can’t see where you’re going, why are you in that program? If you’re not connecting to your more broad (or more specific) academic focus, what are you doing?!

That’s why it’s so frustrating that I’m in this program and I’m being restricted to not involve my long-term interests.

So maybe I just feel antsy because of my academic frustrations. That would make a lot of sense. Also, Thanksgiving break is coming up, so hopefully I will get my kicks out then.

Love? Love. Live. November 12, 2009

Ok, so there are some songs that make you cry, right? “Let It Be” is one of those for me, as is “Imagine.” That’s why, even though I love love love those songs, I don’t listen to them very often.

But, have you ever just loved the experience of listening to music so much that it just made you want to cry? Maybe I’m just overly emotional, but that’s what The Mountain Goats are doing to me.

Two nights ago, I liked tMG a lot. I’d listened to probably 30-40 songs of theirs, and I definitely had a few favorites memorized. I definitely liked them enough to spend $20 on their concert in Seattle, but was unfamiliar with them enough that I would have second-guessed getting that ticket if I knew that it would really turn out to be over $30.

I didn’t think John Darnielle was particularly attractive.

I even have to confess that I didn’t like his voice all that much most of the time.

Also, one of my two favorite songs was pretty much their most famous single, which always makes me feel like a bad fan, because I always feel like I should know more obscure material, especially if I like the band enough to go to one of their concerts. It’s like how die-hard Jason Mraz fans (such as myself) hate it when people who only know “I’m Yours” go to his concerts. I want to tell them to sit down, shut up, and listen to Curbside Prophet.

Anyway, there’s also a ton of tMG history that I am still not familiar with. Like John Darnielle’s time in rehab… or even his age. I don’t know if it’s weird that I don’t want to go to someone’s concert without knowing this stuff first, but it’s true. I felt especially bad going with someone who knew everything and was just about as mesmerized as a person could be.

I’m not really sure whether to make this long story short or not.

There’s so much that I could say… about the openers, the crowd, the songs, the performance, John Darnielle, my friend’s bordering-on-religious experience (he’s probably so euphoric that he won’t eat for days…), about how they played my absolute favorite tMG song, “Love Love Love.” And actually, he played my other favorite song also, “This Year.”

Here’s the setlist:

[band]
1. 1 samuel 15:23
2. letter from belgium
3. isaiah 45:23
4. cotton
5. romans 10:9
6. love love love
[john]
7. orange ball of peace
8. sign of the crow
9. woke up new
10. thank you mario, but our princess is in another castle
11. 1 john 4:16 [w/ final fantasy]
12. going to fucking bristol [w/ owen pallett on violin and john on vocals; no guitar]
[band]
13. hebrews 11:40
14. hast thou considered the tetrapod
15. psalms 40:2
16. against pollution
17. this year
[break]
18. ezekiel 7 and the permanent efficacy of grace
19. no children
20. the best ever death metal band in denton
[break]
21. see america right

And ever since I saw this concert, I don’t really know what to do with myself. Granted, it’s only been about 24 hours, and I’ve kept very busy, but still. It was an amazing show… and I don’t really know whether to laugh, or cry, or just listen to their music continuously, or hold off on listening to it to savor the memory, or what.

Some moments last forever, and some flare up with love, love, love.

Observing Ghostland November 10, 2009

I don’t think it’s possible to describe a laser light show to someone who has never seen one, but I’m going to try anyway.

Saturday night was the first time I’d gone to a concert where I had no idea who the headliners were or even really their genre. I didn’t pay for the ticket, which is a plus, but it would have been worth it even if I had. I was a little bored waiting for the show to start, but there was a DJ and it was a woman, which was cool to experience.

For …various reasons, I was pretty apprehensive once the show was about to start. We were right in the middle of the crowd, and I was terrified that the scene was going to turn into a mosh pit and we were going to get trompled and stepped on, and I was going to get sick and hot and miserable. My friends said, “it’s not that kind of show.”

Then the music started, and it became a little more clear that the crowd wasn’t going to be such a problem… but was the music going to be too loud? I was a little afraid that it was going to be a little too intense. My friends didn’t say anything– they were pretty wrapped up in the show, being the ones who actually knew what they were hearing.

Then… the laser light show started. My breath caught momentarily and I got nervous about getting sick again, but then it was too cool to miss by being sick, so I decided not to be sick, and instead to immensely enjoy this new experience.

Ghostland Observatory played for maybe an hour and a half, and it was the fastest hour and a half concert I think I’ve ever been to. I don’t remember being at a concert where I liked the music less, but wanted it to go on more.

It’s not my favorite genre, I must admit. It’s sort of electronica/rock/experimental, which I generally have very little patience with. I’m not sure whether the light show is what made it amazing, or just my state of mind, or what. I got home and tried to listen to the band on eMusic, and I could barely get through one song.

I don’t care. From now on, I have a resolution to broaden my horizons, even if it pegs me as a hipster (which, actually, I take a forbidden pleasure in–and I think that means I don’t really stand a chance of being a hipster anyway).

Re-gathering November 10, 2009

I finally cut the cord on that awful freelance writing project that was hanging over my head for 6+ weeks. I feel pretty liberated– then again, I probably technically let go of the idea a couple weeks ago. At least now I can go on Skype without being terrified that the guy is going to confront me about the project. I really do feel awful about quitting on him, but it’s also true that I’ve been completely overwhelmed lately.

Overwhelmed by music.

People you knew. November 9, 2009

It’s sad when people you know become people you knew.

Are You Onboard? November 7, 2009

I just discovered a great new artist, Eric Bibb. His style is a right-on mix of folk, blues, and gospel, without being boring, too roots-y, or too preachy. I came across his website by way of StumbleUpon, which is another newfound joy that may just deserve its own post later. So the first song I heard, which came up instantly on the website, was “New Beale Street Blues.” It was such a great introduction. It reminded me a little of New Orleans (even though it’s about Memphis).

Besides having a great style, his songs and the album I downloaded (and frankly, the only one I have listened to) are very smooth. Not in a lame “smooth jazz” kind of way, but in a way that flows extremely well. He has a beautiful voice and his guitar work compliments it perfectly.

iTunes categorizes Bibb as Blues, which I would say is correct. I was a little worried that he would be pegged as gospel or Christian, and I don’t think his style exemplifies that slant all the time. Even if this isn’t the sort of thing you’d normally check out, I would look him up on eMusic or just at his website.

I have downloaded “Get Onboard” and “Natural Light,” along with only 9 tracks of “A Ship Called Love,” because I ran out of credits at eMusic (and already bought a booster pack today for the first album. sigh), and I highly recommend all of them so far. I will say that “A Ship Called Love” seems to have a little weird drumwork… a sort of monotonous, Stevie-Wonder-esque new age-y-ness. But other than that, I am very much enjoying it all. Plus, all the song titles are great, and in my book that goes a long way.

Momentary Bitch. Please tune back in after these messages. November 7, 2009

You know those bad surprises? The ones you discover and then feel like you got punched in the stomach, maybe multiple times?

Yeah. Just experienced one of those–in conjunction with about 3 solid doses of irony.

I’m not going to mince words–I feel like shit. Haven’t started crying yet, but maybe that’s an even worse sign.

(In other news, I just typoed and wrote “song” instead of “sign.” So let’s move on to that.)

Talking shouldn’t be this complicated. November 5, 2009

Sometimes I forget I’m talking to people. Like, I finish talking to them and then realize that I wasn’t really talking to them like they’re real people; I’m talking to them like I’m in a video game and the sentence I have to say to them is my challenge. I feel like I cheat them out of my real thoughts, but I don’t know if they can tell.

I don’t remember which school of thought states that maybe there aren’t actually multiple people in the world–maybe there’s just me, and God (or some external force) puts other people and situations on earth just to test me and teach me. It’s an interesting-if a little narcissistic-idea.

It also helps me think of things more linearly … as in, it helps me be more diplomatic in my approach to people. I don’t worry so much about figuring out how to please each person individually, because they exist as a learning experience for me.

But then, one has to wonder, what if they think the same thing? What if I’m simply a learning experience for them? Clearly, then, life is not this existential illusion. But that, too, is a learning experience.

Put a smile in your voice. November 4, 2009

Have you ever seen someone looking around, arranged your face into a pleasant half-smile (just in case they look at you, you want to look friendly) and looked away, then looked back at them and they’re smiling because they saw your smile and it was contagious? It’s a really good feeling :) And it takes almost no energy at all–just a little presence of mind. Try it!

By the way, I have very little patience with myself when I hold off on blogging for the “right time” or until I have a good idea, or until I can elaborate on a thought. So I think I’m just going to treat it like it’s a Twitter account with a more lengthy character limit and write thoughts as they come up. Especially because most of the time I’m sitting in the most boring and annoying class in the world. Leave me comments!

The News That Matters November 4, 2009

“EMI and Apple Corps have announced they will be releasing a limited edition apple-shaped USB drive containing all 14 of the remastered Beatles albums as well as artwork, documentaries and other extras.

On 7 December, 30,000 of the drives will go on sale for £200 each.”

 

 

http://digg.com/d3196aj

Wizard Rock Festival in MO November 4, 2009

If you go to wizard rock festivals, you never know when shallow wizard rock may turn into something genuinely inspired. If you don’t go, you don’t even know if it’s possible. For that reason, I wish I was going to this weekend festival in Potosi, Missouri. I’d love to be there to support the Harry Potter nerdiness.

www.wrockstock.com

Insanely Short Untitled Poem #2 November 3, 2009

I don’t belieeeeeeve you.

Can you state it from a throne?

Would you take it into battle?

Would it make it on its own?

I don’t believe you.

Untitled Poem #1 November 3, 2009

I think this is the first original poem I’ve posted. I don’t really like writing poetry, and there’s very little poetry I actually appreciate (sorry, everyone)… so don’t go easy on it!

::::::::::::::

thread in, thread through.

needle in, heart through.

eyes open, staring round,

mind rough, full of sound.

soul search, listen up.

spoken word, shooting up.

say enough, sing away.

lead it on, catch a ray.

lips moving, ears racing.

final count, thoughts abating.

Mama said there wouldn’t be days like this. October 23, 2009

If you’re at Evergreen:

and a teacher says “fair effort,” something is wrong.

and a teacher says, “you’ll want to know this, if for no other reason than that it will be on the test.”

and a teacher says, “you can’t do that project; that’s not what we’re studying in this class” or “that’s not what we’re interested in.”

and you don’t feel creative

or you feel restricted

or you’re not sure where you’re going

or you don’t feel like you can talk to your faculty…

I say, GET OUT NOW. Problem is, that would be hypocritical, because I’m stuck in that situation and CAN’T get out. At least, not without dropping 12 credits, which is extremely problematic.

Some Goals October 19, 2009

1) Wrap up my old freelance writing job that has been hanging over my head. I can’t keep up with it, don’t want to, and it’s just making me feel guilty all the time.

2) Buy some food with which I can efficiently make meals and have leftovers for lunch the next day.

3) Start reading some stuff for fun.

4) Write reviews on here about what I’ve read.

5) Review music, like I’ve always said I would do.

6) GET OVER BEING HOMESICK ALL THE TIME.

7) Write write write. For fun. Submit an article to the newspaper (it shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, we ARE the newspaper.)

8) Make an appointment with my teacher to talk about her class, which I have recently come to despise.

9) Catch up on French. Pouvez-vous practiquer le francais avec moi?

10) Sleep.

11) Clean room.

12) Watch movies that enlighten and inform.

13) Light more candles.

14) Figure out what I want. What do I want? I know what I don’t want. Isn’t that helpful enough?

15) Call my poor grandmother who worries about me all the time.

16) Love love love.

One of Many Odes to a best friend. September 27, 2009

This is a manipulated song about just wanting to mean the world to that friend who means the world to you. You have a lot of history, but somehow those times seem to get lost or forgotten, and before long you start to fear you can’t remember what that bond was in the beginning. You want everyone to know all that you’ve shared. Wanting a soulmate is not selfish.

Hello, tell me you know. Yeah, you’ve figured me out? Something gave it away…
It would be such a beautiful moment to see the look on your face, to know that I know that you know now.

I guess that’s a case of my wishful thinking: You know nothing. You and I, we can carry on for hours on end. We get along much better than you and that person you’re interested in.

Well, all I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use.
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.

Well, how long can I go on like this, wishing to be your everything, before I rightly explode?
And this double life I lead isn’t healthy for me; in fact, it makes me nervous. If you find out, I could be risking it all… There’s a lot that I’d miss in case…

All I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use,
But I still cant say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me

If I should be so bold, I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand, and tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your friend. But I never said a word– I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again.

Well, all I really want to do is love you
The kind that the closest of friends use
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.

[Song thanks to Jason Mraz, of course. Speaking of soulmates...]

Friends in high and unlikely places September 22, 2009

So sometimes, I tend to get extremely overwhelmed by barbershop. Mostly, this is because i have no idea how to convey to people how much I love it and how much it means to me. Also, it seems a little strange that it’s so specific. Like, I could be just in love with singing in general, or by karaoke or something, but no, I have to be utterly obsessed with barbershop. It’s just weird.

However, in the barbershop community, it is completely normal. I challenge you to find someone in this organization who is just sort of so-so about barbershop. Someone who can say “eh, I can live with or without it. It’s just sort of a hobby.” No. That’s not the way it works. You may not be obsessed with it when you enter the org, but you sure as hell are after two months, if not after one visit.

So, here is my absolutely fantastic barbershop story for the day.

About a year ago, this woman in my chorus said something like, “oh, you’re going to Evergreen? You should look for this police officer who sings barbershop, Tom or Tim or something… I can’t remember his last name.” Of course I thought, “well, gee, isn’t that specific,” and I didn’t try too hard to find him. Plus, their uniforms just say their last names, so I didn’t have much to go on, and I didn’t want to go to Police Services and ask for some guy who sang barbershop. ha.

So today I was sitting at the Student Activities fair with my roommate. I was representing the CPJ and the Police Services booth was right next to ours. She pointed at the officer who was at that table, and said that she’s heard him sing at this drug and alcohol presentation thing she’d gone to, and that he was quite good. Then I heard the EIC and biz manager of the CPJ talking to him and calling him Tim.

Long story short, once everyone left, I said to him, “so, I hear you sing,” and he said, “yeah,” and I said, “do you sing barbershop, by any chance?”

He said, “Barbershop is my life.”

And with stars in my eyes, I’m sure, I said, “meee toooo!”

Thus began a long conversation during which we discovered that we know many of the same people, but it turns out that he’s actually WAYYYY high up in the organization and so is his wife, so he’s, like, friends with the lead of OC Times and stuff, and coaches by ex-director’s quartet and stuff.

MY GOD am I excited. I never want to talk to people at Evergreen about Sweet Adelines, because let’s face it, it’s just weird. Sequins and energetic faces? Definitely not Evergreen-ish. So I cannot tell you how amazing it is to have this resource and be familiar with this guy. Unfortunately, it’s led to a bit of a stalking tangent on my part, so I found this video of his quartet (two of the members are former Kings, which means that they have won International before. Five times, in fact. SO amazing). Enjoy :)

… and I just read back over that post, and it’s awful. I think the more excited I get about something, the less articulate I am. So, I’m sorry about that. But I’m not going to change it because you all deserve to see my blunders.

A poem by Rumi: “An Awkward Comparison” September 19, 2009

[The formatting doesn't hold. I'll try to figure that out later. Also, I chose it randomly from a book of Rumi's poems that I have. I might decode it later in another post. Enjoy]

———-

“An Awkward Comparison”

This physical world has no two things alike.

Every comparison is awkwardly rough.

You can put a lion next to a man,

but the placing is hazardous to both.

Say the body is like this lamp.

It has to have a wick and oil. Sleep and food.

If it doesn’t get those, it will die,

and it’s always burning those up, trying to die.

But where is the sun in this comparison?

It rises, and the lamp’s light

mixes with the day.

Oneness,

which is the reality, cannot be understood

with lamp and sun images. The blurring

of a plural into a unity is wrong.

No image can describe

what of our fathers and mothers,

our grandfathers and grandmothers, remains.

Language does not touch the one

who lives in each of us.

There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,

as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts

from books and from what the teacher says,

collecting information from the traditional sciences

as well as from the new sciences.

With such intelligence you rise in the world.

You get ranked ahead or behind others

in regard to your competence in retaining

information. You stroll with this intelligence

in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more

marks on your preserving tablets.

There is another kind of tablet, one

already completed and preserved inside you.

A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness

in the center of the chest. This other intelligence

does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid,

and it doesn’t move from outside to inside

through the conduits of plumbing-learning.

This second knowing is a fountainhead

from within you, moving out.

The past can be the future. Why go back? September 18, 2009

Introducing the first thing I have posted on my wall (REAL wall, that is–NOT Facebook) since I have moved into my apartment:

The very first issue of the Cooper Point Journal (CPJ), the paper for which I am the print managing editor (there is a web managing editor for, obviously, the web edition). The CPJ is a weekly publication put out by the CPJ student group, but more broadly, it is a paper by and for the students, which is most important. The CPJ accepts any type of content from anyone enrolled as a student at the Evergreen State College, which is very cool. We have two advisors, but they don’t have any say over what goes in the paper (nor does any other faculty member). The student group is comprised entirely of students who put out the web and print publication, as well as students to manage and maintain the business side of things. We only receive a certain amount of funding from the Student Activities department of the school, and the student activities funds come directly from students through tuition, so the paper is quite literally BY the students, in all senses. Students in positions of responsibility receive a learning allotment most weeks of the quarter, which enables them to spend the time that they do at the CPJ.

The CPJ is not a “job,” and we do not get “paid.” We don’t even “work.” We have responsibilities, and are held accountable for those responsibilities by the mere fact that we are members of the organization. We don’t need to know a certain amount before coming into a position at the CPJ (seriously, I am a managing editor after only 3 years of being involved in journalism of any sort; that tells you something), but we are encouraged to learn while we’re at the CPJ–hence the designation of the CPJ being a “learning laboratory.”

Anyway, as my position indicates, I am responsible for the print edition of the paper, which is weekly. The first paper came off the presses today, and I got to watch it happen. I was given a copy right then and there, with that picture on the cover that I took and the cover design that I did. I was (and am) so proud of that thing.

So… why do I feel guilty? The thing about the CPJ is that, since we don’t “work,” we don’t have hours, so technically we are at liberty to leave whenever we want. But since we are responsible and accountable for certain tasks, they should be priority. Plus, there is always the chance that more may come up, or tasks may be delegated, and there is the real looming responsibility of the actual publication. So “leadership” (the business manager, associate business manager, editor in chief, associate editor, web managing editor, and print managing editor) are usually under the impression that other members will be (or should be) as dedicated to producing the overall result as we are. Well, frankly, sometimes they just aren’t.

That should be fine with us. I mean, technically their position has certain responsibilities assigned to it, and if they take care of those they are free to lead a life. The problem is that we get so caught up in what has to be done, and usually we are so short-staffed, that we feel the need to delegate tasks to these people that somehow have gotten done with their section early.

…Ok, I’m tired of explaining this, so the short version is that there is A TON of guilt-tripping in the CPJ. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I felt the guilt pressure almost all of last year in my various positions, as well as this past summer when I was at home having a normal life when everyone else was at the office having responsibilities in which I was expected to take part or share.

So though I never told anyone when I came back this year, my ultimate goal is to never guilt trip someone. If someone is done and says something like “…so…I think I’ll head out now,” I can respond with no more than, “all right. If you find you have more time, let us know if you’re free and we can give you something to do.” That’s it. Because I am so fed up with these people being presented with that situation of someone wanting to leave and saying, “well… ok… it would be great if you could stay a while longer, because there’s a lot left to do…”

What BS. Suck it up and do some work yourself. Last night was production night, and I felt like I did a ton because we were short-staffed and people left. And I was fine with it. I am at the CPJ because I have an extreme passion for journalism. And I want that passion to show through my drive and motivation to put out a quality paper without too much perfectionism. Actually, I can’t imagine what it would be like if we had a full staff. What would I do?!

Our advisor once said, when we were anticipating the switch to our primarily online medium, that “Jo can put out a print paper by herself. So what you guys need to focus on is the website.” And, though that probably wouldn’t be something I’d prefer in the heat of the moment, it sounds a little daringly awesome.

It won’t happen. The CPJ is a students’ paper, not a student’s paper. [If you don't understand that line, please leave this blog. Now.]

And I don’t want it to happen. I am so caught up in the awesomeness of the ‘voice of the students thing’ that I never want to give that up. Why would a publication function any differently?

It seems like every time I find something new about Evergreen, I react to it like I did when I got my Mac: Why would ever go back to how it/I was before? In fact, that happens with many facets of my life.

Why would I ever go back to a school that gave grades and pushed a competitive learning environment?

Why would I ever go back to a life without barbershop music?

Why would I ever go back to being involved in a newspaper that wasn’t by and for the people?

It’s so important. I realized this when the EIC was working on launching the website today. Before, I had been rather caught up in how the site would look, and how it would function, blah blah blah, just so that people would want to look at it and come back to it and become a member of the site, etc. But now, I want it to look very rustic and work-in-progress-like, so that people will instead come up to us and say something like, “btw, that website of yours… uh… sucks.” Then, I will be able to tell them [quite honestly, mind you], “I’m so glad you think so! We would love to have your expertise, or at least some input about it!”

Does that sound dorky? Because I think it sounds really exciting.

[Something]’s Gonna Change My World September 11, 2009

I have about ten saved drafts of other posts I’ve started over the past couple weeks… but on this day, I feel more like starting anew.

You know how they tell you in high school that once you get into “the real world, then blah blah blah”? I never knew whether the Real World started after college, or before, or during, or at the moment of graduation from high school, or right when you became financially independent, or what. Who knows whether any of us are in the Real World at all. (I know that statement is a little too Matrix-y, but whether it’s a metaphor or not, sometimes there IS a world (or many other worlds) out there to which we are blind or deaf).

Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the world in my head. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in a fantasy world created by the media. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the Real World.

This is what the real world is like: In college, they don’t hold a moment of silence for the lives lost during 9/11/01. I remember in middle and high school (gawd, I’m old) when we would stand with bowed heads, and I’m sure it happens still. But I’m not in an environment where that’s done, and I don’t know why. It’s not that I want that moment of silence…

I think I just want to comprehend the suffering of others. Or maybe I don’t, but I feel like I should. For instance, I have a friend who is in Ghana right now (her blog is at http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/. She updates often and her insight is really great–check it out). She’s sort of a participant observer in the third world/developing country scheme there, and she witnesses first hand the conditions in which the natives live.

It seems like things like that are really valued in our society, because we like to think we’re pretty privileged (when it’s put in perspective). On the other hand, being able to step back and have an honest, solid empathy for those who are suffering is “good.” When Hurricane Katrina happened, the rest of the United States felt sympathetic toward the victims and their loss.

When 9/11 happened, people all over the United States empathized and mourned (partly because it was a threat to everyone, not just those in NYC and the Pentagon).

But what if I can’t comprehend that?

I end up feeling completely heartless simply because I don’t understand suffering. I know what it is, of course, and I’ve experienced a tiny bit myself on a very small scale, but I just haven’t been able to look at suffering in terms of feelings. In other words, I can listen to specific stories of people’s losses around 9/11 and genuinely feel bad for them, but I can’t share their sorrow.

I look at Katrina as a mass loss of homes, pets, belongings, finances, loved ones… but not as a loss of hope or a loss of esteem.

I look at 9/11 as a mass loss of lives and loss of assets (buildings, money). I know it is symbolic, but I have some sort of emotional block from knowing what that really means for our country and for the people more directly affected by the attack.

And I won’t lie; I feel quite awful about all of this. It’s not like I’m apathetic toward everything. It’s just that I guess I have no way of translating that sorrow, so far removed from me, to something closer to home.

But how important is it, to share that burden of sorrow? I feel like it’s a duty for me as an American citizen to feel personally hurt and scared by the events of 9/11. I don’t. But is that something around which the United States really needs to rally?! Do we really need to take on some more pain, and remember it every year?

I may not be very adept [yet?] at feeling empathetic toward others’ pain, but I can sure as hell share their joy.

Heidi, my friend in Ghana, said that she witnessed a funeral procession in one Ghanian village where one of the elderly men in the town had just died. She says, “It was strange to see the way they celebrated the life of the 85-year-old man who had died instead of mourning the fact that he was gone. Even the signs posted around town announced the ‘Celebration of Life,’ not the ‘Funeral ‘or ‘Ceremony.’” (http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/2009/09/830-first-little-big-adventure.html).

I think joy is more universal than sorrow. Even with all the famine, disease, poverty, and other misfortunes ailing many parts of the world, those trials only make small things easier to appreciate, therefore creating more joy. Why don’t we rally around hope? Didn’t Barack Obama’s campaign prove that hope is a much more effective tool?

For a while, I remember plans being laid for an “uplifting” memorial to 9/11 at Ground Zero. While I do think it’s important to keep such an event in our history, I remember a line from one of my favorite movies saying something like, “the best way to forget something is by commemorating it.” Are we afraid of seeming heartless if we just move on? Are we not saving the victims still suffering from the effects of the attacks from enduring further strife?

In a way, it’s not so bad to not comprehend suffering. In fact, I think it’s pretty normal. I think confusion is a more natural and positive response than anger and hatred (but that’s not saying much).

How long did the people who started blaming others for the attacks stop to ruminate on what had actually happened? Life should not be a grand “whodunnit?” setup. Some things are mysteries, including the human brain, heart, and soul, as well as their feelings and functions.

I am not saying that we wouldn’t need to find out who was responsible for something like 9/11. I’m also not saying that anger is not part of the grieving process (i.e., anger IS part of the grieving process). But what do we need to do (personally and on a larger scale) to ensure that compassion is ALSO part of the process, enough to the point where we realize that anger and hatred are only bred from not understanding. We don’t understand death; it has always been mysterious. But we also know that to every time, there is a season. In the heat of the moment, it’s impossible to recognize something like that. I just wonder when blame has solved a problem, and whether it’s reliable enough to keep trying.

Though I may live in a bubble, and only venture into the Real World occasionally, my bubble does facilitate some self reflection. If I’m honest with myself in admitting that I don’t understand suffering and I don’t understand death, I can also realize that I share more common ground with people in joy than in sorrow. Rather than using ignorance in a way that is harmful to myself and others, I would like to exploit the similarity of joy, and breed compassion, hope, and love. Love can penetrate any personal bubble.

“Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the universe.” -The Beatles.

That Old Feeling. September 8, 2009

You know how people always say that the most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, but for some reason you just can’t?

Well, I disagree.

The most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, and being completely willing and able to do so, but too busy to actually let yourself cry.

Some would just “get it over with,” but that’s impossible when you know it could last for at least a good half hour (and that’s a LOT of time essentially wasted when you have a ton to do), plus it will give you a raging headache/migraine afterwards, which will be a complete handicap when it comes to getting things done. At the same time, all the thoughts that made you feel like crying in the first place buzz around your head while you’re trying to accomplish things, and that’s pretty much all you can think about.

Is this too depressing? I’m trying to keep it real. I mean, I think most people have had this experience. Am I right? Can I hear an amen?

Progress for Progress’ Sake September 8, 2009

This is from almost a week ago, yikes.

By day two, not only have I unpacked almost everything except my clothes (which, really, I should have unpacked first), but I have also had company over. And not just my dad! My friend Emily (from Oly, not Cd’A) came over with her sister, and then a former floormate, Ian, dropped by. He had other motives, however; he was convinced that a menage a trois was going to take place.

Anyway, I cooked rice in one of the AMAZING pots Haley got (I doubt she knows just how great they are, since she never cooks, but maybe this year she’ll start) and besides that, all I could offer was apple juice and milk… But it was so fun! I definitely want to do that more, as well as having potlucks and just general cooking parties. We could make sushi one day, except that Haley hates sushi…

By the way, I’m not sure I added this in my last post, but I have a few tips on moving (now that I’m just such a seasoned pro, ha ha).

1. This is passed down from at least my grandmother, and it may go back farther. When everything is in your new place, the absolute first thing you should do is locate your sheets and make your bed. It sounds odd, but it means that when the day ends and you’re positively exhausted, you won’t have to do one more thing before you crawl into bed. Nice, huh?

2. I maintain that if you keep things clean from the beginning, it will be easier to do it later on, because you know what clean looks like. In the coming months days, we’ll see if this is true.

3. On your first or second day, scope out a walking path or trail around your house, or a route that you’ll be motivated to follow. Then, when you don’t want to leave the house, get outside, and walk somewhere, you won’t have the excuse, “well, I don’t know where to go!”

…That’s all I have so far. Anyone want to suggest some more?

Room With A View September 1, 2009

Today I moved into my own apartment. It is an epic day and one which will live in infamy.

It’s not exactly mine; my roommate moves in in two weeks. But for now, it’s all mine…

And it is the most glorious feeling in the world.

The things from my storage space came in, the things from home came in, we went shopping (and among the first things I bought, of course, was butter. Just like Julia Child had suggested!), the groceries came in, the dogs came in (my dad was helping me move, and he brought the dogs from home, YAY!), and I came in.

I don’t know why it’s so good, or how to explain it, but it’s just the best thing ever. I’m pretty sure I felt very similar to this when I moved into my dorm, but not exactly. This is completely different. I have bills to pay, mouths to feed (well, not really… just mine), and it’s amazing.

Like every apartment, it has its drawbacks, but for the most part, it is perfect, right down to the chipped molding and weird drawer system. I have a walk-in closet, my own bathroom, and at least as much room as I had in my bedroom at home.

As I’m writing this, cars are speeding by on the road that lies RIGHT next to our building, but it’s all good. Actually, even that is quite amazing. I live next to a ROAD!!!!

I’ll continue to update “you” about how this is all working. So far, I moved everything into the kitchen first, just because I was so excited that I HAD one.

The things I need to buy:

Tupperware, a set of knives, a standing light (because there’s no overhead light in my room), some more groceries, a shower curtain, and probably some more hangers.

Does anyone know a cheap place to look for these things? Especially the knives and shower curtain. The other things can come from Goodwill or Safeway or Costco. I’m thinking Ikea for the lamp thing…

Going to bed now, to rest for a full day of journalism training tomorrow. Wild Life!!!

Trees and Post Offices August 30, 2009

OK, so just to prove that I really *did* have something to say this whole time, I’m posting this, which I wrote between Colorado and New Mexico. Enjoy!

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It was as if vertical didn’t exist. The whole landscape consisted of horizontal levels of different elements: a straight, flat road, flat sagebrush land, and in the distance, a layer of blue or brown depending on the direction. These were mountains, but you couldn’t tell they were mountains because the clouds hung so low.

It was as if we were in an orb; the clouds seemed high enough above us, but on the horizon they sunk lower and lower, and land might not have even existed beyond them.

We had left the land of color, and it was becoming obvious that we might not see much color for a while, especially if the clouds didn’t lift

I’ve never seen the clouds so low. If I stood on top of the car, I might even be able to touch them. Full and dark and reducing to wisps the lower they got, but remaining ominous. Yellow daisies lined the road, and the sky seemed to be blue beyond the clouds, but it was quickly dimming as the sun went down.

A few children were crouching at the horizon, holding paper cutouts of clouds at different heights in the sky. As we moved, they became two dimensional and looked like individual pieces of gray instead of an indistinguishable colorless blue.

Every once in a while, things would become a little more green or blue or yellow, but most of the time they were steadily getting less colored. Mom would point and say, “treeee!” and I would point at a truck with straw flying off of it and say, “hay!” because that’s what she used to do with me. And whenever we saw a sign, mom would read it. Just in case I hadn’t seen it, even though writing would be hard to miss in this area.

The time of day would be best described as twilight, which is a little sad to admit. The moon was a little sliver to our left, against a background of, if you have your crayon set handy, a very light sky blue crossed with cerulean.

“Post office,” mom said as we passed that sign and rolled into a sad little town that was mostly boarded up and had one flashing yellow light, just like in Radiator Springs, from Cars.

La-la-la-la-lovely August 15, 2009

I just finished making a batch of delectable wheat-free almond spice cookies. They’re positively amazing, not to brag or anything. They’re better than any of the wheat-free cookies I’ve ever had, and better than any of the cookies I’ve had made with rice flour, which is very heavy and leaves a questionable aftertaste. I found the recipe in one of my mom’s Yoga Journals and made them with millet flour, tapioca flour, and potato flour starch, along with many spices and sugar and yumminess.

Turns out, they’re not as good the next day. But I remain impressed with myself that I actually got off my ass and made something that I’m proud of. yay me!

I’ve been so extremely lazy lately. I’m housesitting and don’t have internet at the house, so all I can do is walk the dog and play with her, read, and watch tv, and I can write articles if I happen to get an assignment.

Ew. I’m sitting in a coffee shop and all these people are around me with whom I went to school for various years are talking and they’re loud and sigggghhhhhhh. I’m pretty sure they all go to U of I now. And this girl is dressed like she’s a freshman in high school, yet she just announced that she’s “technically a junior” in college. She dropped one of her majors and moved up, apparently. I am SO glad I don’t have to worry about all that crap. People give me funny looks when I tell them I don’t have majors or grades or anything, but it is a complete blessing.

You know that science class you took in high school, with that science teacher you didn’t particularly care for, in which you had to memorize all those chemicals and then get tested on them, where you have to pass in order to receive a very meaningless letter grade that is your ticket to the next dull, tedious class that you may or may not have any interest in? And then, to your horror, it continues in college! College, where you are supposed to be able to choose whichever classes you like, and you are guaranteed to like them since they fit your major! But noooo, you have to go through more and more meaninglessness with those stupid required classes that may or may not have anything to do with your desired path of study and subsequent career, but you are assured that “at some point” they will be relevant, just like many teachers in high school told you that “one day” that math would come in handy. ha.

I love my school.

Look it up. August 5, 2009

Ok, yes, I’ve been away. And the next week isn’t going to be any better. But in the meantime, FIND THIS SONG. I think it’s a cover of a Johnny Cash song and (curse my hypocrisy) I haven’t heard the original, but this one is sooo crazy awesome. It might just be based on the Cash song, because it’s quite similar, but very different. ha.

I found it. It’s by Moby and it’s called “Afterlife,” though Cash’s version was called “God’ll Cut You Down.” Doesn’t sound too uplifting, but WOW. Look it up.

*****CORRECTION*****

The song is “Run On For A Long Time,” and it was originally done by the Blind Boys of Alabama. I’m pretty sure the group that covers it is Bill Landford and the Landfordaires. I must say, though, that the lyrics are extremely similar to the ones in the Johnny Cash song. Maybe Johnny Cash changed some words, made it more monotonous, and retitled it. ha.

Abruptishnessment July 30, 2009

Nearly all of my books on spirituality (especially Eastern philosophy and spirituality) have orange on their covers. Bear with me while I decode that…

Sorry for the obnoxiously short post; I’m barely at home before leaving to the cabin again :) Have an excellent day!