Some people get tougher living here: Harden the creases in the corners of their eyes, permanentize the frown to look natural, like we were all born squinting at each other as if there is no other--human,--but those that are Same. Am I another species because we are not?
As if, You, are Human only; the rest lesser specimens to pick apart with your teeth. Does my Achilles taste good in your molars?
I breathe Human too, even if the symbol around my throat is not Wiccan or Buddhist or Greek for Green Peace. My Cross you despise and you wear your scorn on your lips as if I am going to rub off on you, should you take a whiff.
Yes, I said Cross. Sometimes I even say Christ before I eat.
Your curse shifts in your seat as you stare, daring the contrary when you announce to your Humans that God is Dead.
And who am I to say your Otherwise? Your knuckles are white. I am not blind.
I don't want to get rough, living here. I want to keep getting softer, keep changing and shifting because I still have something left to Know: that I have nothing left to prove. My callous surrenders to pink skin. Maybe when I am thirty I will still have petals on my forehead from sticking my nose in the flowers at your feet.
You are my Human. You are my Someone else who is fascinating, is completely different, is sometimes angry and is all the time: Beautiful.
I have a Story like you: unfinished, in the preliminary drafts that is penciled over, crossed out, pages burned so I can pretend they never happened, only to re-write them later as my Self continues to soften out. Melting down.
Edges smooth over. The cracks split and I would Pour willingly, if you sit still enough to catch Me.
You, Creature, are my Human.
Our sigh is the Same.
Jan 28, 2010
Jan 26, 2010
Timeline of the 20th Century
In my Craft of Poetry class, we were asked to make a timeline of the 20th century, without referring to any resources other than our memories.
I keep track of history in relation to things that have happened to me. This may be egocentric but it’s really just because my world is a lot smaller than the world I'm in. What follows is my list of Twentieth-Century memories.
1. The start of WWII--no idea regarding the date (40s for certain)--but in 10th grade I reported on Weisel’s Night and developed a mini-obsession with learning the novel’s historical context.
2. If I'm going to mention WWII, I should make a note of Pearl Harbor, as well. Leave it to Hollywood to compress the tragedy into a three-hour film. I won't even touch Titanic, mostly because my parents wouldn't let me watch it. DiCaprio was the sole cause of my fifth grade social demise.
3. Y2K. I journalled it. & packed a huge suitcase of my most prized possessions in case our house computer decided to implode.
4. The 1994 earthquake in Northridge, CA. The first journal entry I ever wrote was from the day after the earthquake: "I thought Daddy was dead but he walked in the door today. I guess he is not”). That was before cell phones and television. Not for the world—just my family.
5. Years previous, there was an earthquake in San Francisco. Twice. I just learned about it last semester.
6. Wizard of Oz in Technicolor.
7. The Bay of Pigs. I know nothing about this incident, except that my dad was on the runway to take off for it and the President called the troops back. It exists because it touched my world.
8. Sidenote: I taught Social Studies for a semester to a bunch of jr/high school students and all I remember is Ellis Island. We learned about Pablo Neruda and Frida Kahlo, and Heinrich Himmler and the assassination of Kennedy. But if I get to pick and choose what goes on my time-line, only Ellis Island will make it.
9. “Man” landed on the moon. My mom remembers the word “astronaut" on her spelling list for the week.
10. We also discovered the world-wide-web without having to leave our desks. Now we can virtually tour the moon at a penny of the price.
11. Big Bang was silenced. So was Martin Luther King Jr — but not his Dream, because they still post it on the walls of elementary classrooms.
12. There was the Great Depression, and a mother was photographed in black-and-white with her children. I remember this event because Disney put the photograph in the California Adventure theme park.
13. The Pope died. Nine times.
14. Tom Cruise discovered Scientology. So did the rest of Hollywood.
15. The Berlin Wall rose and fell, along with women's bangs and disco balls.
16. The general world survived 1984 sans-Big Brother. London did not
17. Pink leggings and blue leg warmers.
18. My rabbit got eaten by an owl and my dad told me the Easter bunny took him on as hired help. This was two days after the Oklahoma City Bombing in ‘95.
19. Princess Diana died (‘97?). I distinctly remember: A. Not knowing who she was, B. Watching the funeral on television at my aunt’s, and C. Thinking they meant Shirley Temple.
20. By the end of the 20th century, I could fit a whole computer in my pocket.
It’s not that these things are only relevant as they're linked to me. They just make sense, when I put them in the context of me. The history of the world is too large to fit in the small space of my life; my existence barely wedges into a quarter of the history of the 20th century. What do you do with history that isn't yours? And what history/History is yours?
I am interested in WWII because it happened in 10th grade.
I keep track of history in relation to things that have happened to me. This may be egocentric but it’s really just because my world is a lot smaller than the world I'm in. What follows is my list of Twentieth-Century memories.
1. The start of WWII--no idea regarding the date (40s for certain)--but in 10th grade I reported on Weisel’s Night and developed a mini-obsession with learning the novel’s historical context.
2. If I'm going to mention WWII, I should make a note of Pearl Harbor, as well. Leave it to Hollywood to compress the tragedy into a three-hour film. I won't even touch Titanic, mostly because my parents wouldn't let me watch it. DiCaprio was the sole cause of my fifth grade social demise.
3. Y2K. I journalled it. & packed a huge suitcase of my most prized possessions in case our house computer decided to implode.
4. The 1994 earthquake in Northridge, CA. The first journal entry I ever wrote was from the day after the earthquake: "I thought Daddy was dead but he walked in the door today. I guess he is not”). That was before cell phones and television. Not for the world—just my family.
5. Years previous, there was an earthquake in San Francisco. Twice. I just learned about it last semester.
6. Wizard of Oz in Technicolor.
7. The Bay of Pigs. I know nothing about this incident, except that my dad was on the runway to take off for it and the President called the troops back. It exists because it touched my world.
8. Sidenote: I taught Social Studies for a semester to a bunch of jr/high school students and all I remember is Ellis Island. We learned about Pablo Neruda and Frida Kahlo, and Heinrich Himmler and the assassination of Kennedy. But if I get to pick and choose what goes on my time-line, only Ellis Island will make it.
9. “Man” landed on the moon. My mom remembers the word “astronaut" on her spelling list for the week.
10. We also discovered the world-wide-web without having to leave our desks. Now we can virtually tour the moon at a penny of the price.
11. Big Bang was silenced. So was Martin Luther King Jr — but not his Dream, because they still post it on the walls of elementary classrooms.
12. There was the Great Depression, and a mother was photographed in black-and-white with her children. I remember this event because Disney put the photograph in the California Adventure theme park.
13. The Pope died. Nine times.
14. Tom Cruise discovered Scientology. So did the rest of Hollywood.
15. The Berlin Wall rose and fell, along with women's bangs and disco balls.
16. The general world survived 1984 sans-Big Brother. London did not
17. Pink leggings and blue leg warmers.
18. My rabbit got eaten by an owl and my dad told me the Easter bunny took him on as hired help. This was two days after the Oklahoma City Bombing in ‘95.
19. Princess Diana died (‘97?). I distinctly remember: A. Not knowing who she was, B. Watching the funeral on television at my aunt’s, and C. Thinking they meant Shirley Temple.
20. By the end of the 20th century, I could fit a whole computer in my pocket.
It’s not that these things are only relevant as they're linked to me. They just make sense, when I put them in the context of me. The history of the world is too large to fit in the small space of my life; my existence barely wedges into a quarter of the history of the 20th century. What do you do with history that isn't yours? And what history/History is yours?
I am interested in WWII because it happened in 10th grade.
Jan 22, 2010
My Weeks' Todo
1. Send an email
2. Pay Lavender's Electric Bill
3. Deposit my paychecks
4. Laundry
5. YA Homework Reading
6. Find a poem about history
7. Free the spider.
2. Pay Lavender's Electric Bill
3. Deposit my paychecks
4. Laundry
5. YA Homework Reading
6. Find a poem about history
7. Free the spider.
Jan 21, 2010
Things 4
My calendar says school in one hour and I am hoping the rain outside the window will shut up before I have to go out in it.
Mills College is a black hole.
There are many dark haired lesbians and sideways artists with half-goatees. One man is lanky and towers over me like the crooked man who walked a crooked mile. I like to poke their papers with my fingertips and watch their words bleed into my skin. I wonder if he has a crooked cat.
In the hallway, I trapped a spider in a tupperware. It is an unhappy, fuzzy bug. I will free him later this evening.
Still raining and I've left my umbrella in the car.
Mills College is a black hole.
There are many dark haired lesbians and sideways artists with half-goatees. One man is lanky and towers over me like the crooked man who walked a crooked mile. I like to poke their papers with my fingertips and watch their words bleed into my skin. I wonder if he has a crooked cat.
In the hallway, I trapped a spider in a tupperware. It is an unhappy, fuzzy bug. I will free him later this evening.
Still raining and I've left my umbrella in the car.
Jan 19, 2010
Things 3
On Memory&Dreams
I don't remember the difference between you and me. I wish it was you and I because it would be good to end a sentence with sight. I am reading about other people's lives today, because nothing happened in my own.
Oakland. I dislike the gray city and long for City that is more real and alive than the streets where I can hear boom boom (a gun?) outside and I decide I am not going to Safeway for dinner tonight. My thoughts ramble. I rearranged my room.
Ladybugs keep getting in through the walls. This is not a metaphor.
I don't remember the difference between you and me. I wish it was you and I because it would be good to end a sentence with sight. I am reading about other people's lives today, because nothing happened in my own.
Oakland. I dislike the gray city and long for City that is more real and alive than the streets where I can hear boom boom (a gun?) outside and I decide I am not going to Safeway for dinner tonight. My thoughts ramble. I rearranged my room.
Ladybugs keep getting in through the walls. This is not a metaphor.
Here is a ladybug on my cow. I thought it was trying to lay eggs in MooCow's open throat.
But it is yellow. So I think it is a man.
This is a metaphor
My tomorrow is work and school. Today I am catching lady&manbugs and freeing them into the night.
Jan 18, 2010
Things 2
I drink a lot of caffeine because I like the electricity in my veins when I'm looking at the floor of my room and wondering if it will clean itself.
Imogen Heap and espresso pairs with the rain on my windowsill and I fight the urge to scream its good to be in love at the top of my lungs.
My clothing will not fold itself but it knows how to wrinkle all on its own.
Imogen Heap and espresso pairs with the rain on my windowsill and I fight the urge to scream its good to be in love at the top of my lungs.
My clothing will not fold itself but it knows how to wrinkle all on its own.
Jan 17, 2010
Things 1.
As I am now: two-pounds fat. I will request two honey sticks for breakfast.
They taste sweet (would say like honey but for once the simile isn't necessary).
I wish I was a bee.
My God laughs at me and I do not understand what He finds so funny.
There are ants between my toes.
The floor of my room is a complete mess, courtesy of my inability to get anything done these past few days.
My fingers are frozen.
They taste sweet (would say like honey but for once the simile isn't necessary).
I wish I was a bee.
My God laughs at me and I do not understand what He finds so funny.
There are ants between my toes.
The floor of my room is a complete mess, courtesy of my inability to get anything done these past few days.
My fingers are frozen.
Jan 10, 2010
As the pendulum swings
Well. Radio silence suits the buzzing brain.
I was in a total of four states this break.
First, California--
Break started with Jeff and my annual light-looking, in which we found a nativity scene where Jesus had been replaced by a turtle, and we shook our heads at the other scenes and their premature Christs. I missed Nelly Furtado.Christmas Day with the cousins is always a joy. We knew we were getting old when we stuffed our faces with the traditional cheesy potatoes, then sat around watching television until about 8:30 when someome finally said, "So, uh, ... should we open presents?"
The rest of California included Crumbs Cupcakes in Beverly Hills, a massive reorganization of my room which resulted in trashbins full of high school paraphrenilia, and some quality bonding time with my immediate family.
Second, Michigan--
It's been a while since I spent that semester long-ago in the snow. Michigan's white landscape served me a brisk reminder. Usually birds go south for the winter. I flew north.
In addition to taking above precious photos, we (Zak's family, anyway, I stared in horror) burned an innocent gingerbread house, completed a puzzle, and watched Avatar in 3D in the local IMAX. AMAZING. I also would like to note that, due to Zak's mother's magnificent cooking, I gained two pounds. No kidding. I am now fat.
Third State: Indiana--
Zak and I road tripped to Josh and Chelsea's wedding in Chicago, driving through Indiana on the way. We stopped at an overwhelming Antique Warehouse, I sang a theme from the Music Man at the sign for Gary, Indiana, and we clogged our arteries with Frozen Custard Double Butter Burgers at Culvers.Fourth State: Illinois--
More accurately, Chicago, for a visit with cherished friends from Westmont at and after Josh and Chelsea's lovely winter wedding. Shane and Sonja housed us in their charming apartment and we spent the first half of a day chatting and warming our hearts with feast and fellowship, then the second half of the day taking a drive-by tour of Chicago, courtesy of Sonja's extremely helpful directions.
The only time we got lost was when we failed to find the Sears Tower.
Ahem. Yes. Someone misplaced the tallest building and we had trouble tracking it down. I suppose it would have helped if A.) We'd been informed that the tower had been recently renamed and B.) We knew what it looked like to begin with.
---
My final days of break will be spent in my hometown, celebrating my dad and sister's birthdays, then making the long, lonely drive back north so I can get back to work and the real world.
This break was long talks with my mom, dreaming about pirate ships with my dad, snow covered cars through Hartford, snuggles with my sisters, building new relationships, and learning a lot more about the depth of love.
Happy 2010, everyone~
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