romance.

I seem be having one of those "cry during Hallmark commercials" kind of weeks. I am sure this will culminate in a very messy viewing of either The Notebook, Steel Magnolias, or Beaches.

Which is why I want to share these two great moments I had reading the internet lately. I don't usually think about romance because I am such a pragmatist, and maybe a little emotionally closed off, and most obviously, singggllle, but this stuff is making me verklempt.

From my beloved Sunday Routine:

"The evening, after a movie, is a short evening because the next day is a school day, so we try to go to bed not too late. I like to go to bed 10, 10:30. My wife likes to go much later to bed, so we have to compromise. If she has to do some work, I wait for her, reading or doing e-mails. We don’t like to go to bed separately, so that one of us already sleeps and the other comes later. It’s not beautiful."

From xkcd:

I need a minute. TAWK AMONGST YOURSELVES.

america, america.

Jon Contino continues his amazing guestbloggery at my favorite blog Friends of Type.

I love America.  I love that the Fourth of July is the day I get to wave my nationalist freak flag, let my patriotic cup overflow with stars and stripes and eagles, and permit tears come right to the surface when I hear "America, The Beautiful."


I love that I've lived in so many parts of this great nation.  From my earliest years in the heartland of Oklahoma to growing up amidst Washington's evergreens, to my collegiate journey amongst the arid mountain vistas of Utah to the gritty urbanity of Philadelphia.  These places and the people I've known in them have made me who I am--O beautiful for spacious skies / For amber waves of grain / For purple mountain majesties /Above the fruited plain!
America! America! / God shed His grace on thee / And crown thy good with brotherhood /From sea to shining sea!

I love that America was a place my ancestors wanted to come to- from the minister who came to Virginia's red soil in the 1740s from Ireland to my great-grandfather who came from Denmark as a young man, working in dairies as he made his way west-- O beautiful for pilgrim feet / whose stern impassion'd stress / thoroughfare for freedom beat / Across the wilderness.


I love that the history of America is my life's work.  I love it for all its flaws and missteps, in spite of its shameful inequalities and slow progress towards change.  I love getting a sense of what mattered to Americans, understanding how their dreams and vision shaped the world we live in today.  I love that our Constitution provides us with freedom of expression, equal protection, and the opportunity to vote and elect representatives-- America! America! / God mend thine ev'ry flaw / Confirm thy soul in self-control / Thy liberty in law.


I love that America is a country that people in my family have fought for.  From the Revolutionary War to the right and wrong sides of the Civil War to Korea, Vietnam, and Iraq, my people have been there, giving all.  I am so proud of my mom, a courageous servicewoman who sacrifices every single day to contribute to the cause of freedom-- O beautiful for heroes prov'd in liberating strife / who more than self their country loved / and mercy more than life.  


I love that this country gives me hope.  I love the sense that things are going to get better and brighter, that opportunity is just around the corner.  I love coming home after trips abroad.  I love our past, our present, our future, is proud, persistant, and promising because we are Americans.  I love that my dad put a seventeen foot flagpole in our front yard, I love seeing the flag hanging in my window, I love to see it waving from the back of my brother's bike. I love everything that America is to me-- America! America! / May God thy gold refine / Till all success be nobleness / And ev'ry gain divine.
O beautiful for patriot dream/ That sees beyond the years / Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!

(lyrics from here)

at the very least, a case for wearing a helmet.

Last night, a friend and I were headed home after a very long day.  He hit a deep pothole and crashed his bike.  I was riding slowly behind and don't really remember seeing him crash, just feeling like I was moving in slow motion as I rode up to him, and tried in vain to enable my kickstand.  Exasperated, I threw the bike down and slowly pieced things together.  He was not getting up. He was unconscious.  He was breathing heavily.  A stream of blood spilled out of his head onto the pavement.  I felt one hundred percent helpless, alone, yelling his name in the yellowy streetlight and wishing he had been wearing a helmet. 


A car stopped and the couple in it called 911.  A cop came instantly and my friend came to.  An ambulance came and efficiently took him away on a backboard, leaving me to make frantic phone calls.  They asked me if I wanted to go in the ambulance, but what would become of our bikes?  I was completely bewildered. The cop waited in his car while I sat out on the curb, waiting with the bikes until my roommate came by bike to wait for a friend with a car to come.  We huddled together and tried to process the horror of the incident, and then we crammed the bikes and three people into a Ford Focus hatchback.  My roommate rode off to the hospital and I was taken home to be managed and consoled because, as you can imagine, I was pretty out of it.


It is an awful and surreal thing to be covered in the blood of someone you love.  


Even though my coat has been washed and all the stains came out, I still see the blood smeared in bright red relief against the sublime light gray cotton.  I was wearing my terror, my fear, the feeling that the moment had somehow transformed me.  


Feeling like la pieta there in the street, I couldn't help but wonder what it means to be washed in the blood of The Lamb.  






(my friend has come out battered but alright- still at the hospital, he has been treated for a concussion and facial fractures. we are pooling our dollars to buy the man a helmet.)

all it requires is a little bravery. or a lot.

While I can't say I was as deliberately observant of Valentine's Day as I was in years past (heh), I can say that:

A. That pulled pork sandwich I woke up craving? It was delicious.  But I would've eaten it anyways.  In fact, I will probably find a way to eat one tomorrow. Because bitches treat themselves every day, not just on days when other people are going out to dinner.


B. It's blurry and teeny and obscured by a tree branch, but I can see a lit-up heart from my laundry room.  Awwww:

C. This bit from the NYT Modern Love section made me verklempt:

"What is love, anyway?

Ah, best for last. If I were Spock from “Star Trek,” I would explain that human love is a combination of three emotions or impulses: desire, vulnerability and bravery. Desire makes one feel vulnerable, which then requires one to be brave.

Since I’m not Spock, I will tell a story.

Say you decide to adopt a baby girl in China. You receive her photo, put it on your refrigerator and gaze at it as the months pass, until finally you’re halfway around the world, holding her in your arms, tears of joy streaming down your face.

But later in your hotel room, after undressing her, you discover worrisome physical signs, in particular a scar on her spine. You call the doctor, then head to the hospital for examinations and CT scans, where you are told the following: she suffered botched spinal surgery that caused nerve damage. Soon she will lose all bladder and bowel control. Oh, and she will be paralyzed for life. We’re so sorry.

But the adoption agency offers you a choice: keep this damaged baby, or trade her in for a healthier one.

You don’t even know about the trials yet to come, about the alarming diagnoses she’ll receive back home, the terrifying seizures you’ll witness. Nor do you know about the happy ending that is years off, when she comes through it all and is perfectly fine. You have to decide now. This is your test. What do you do?

If you’re Elizabeth Fitzsimons, who told this story here one Mother’s Day, you say: “We don’t want another baby. We want our baby, the one sleeping right over there. She’s our daughter.”

That’s love. Anyone can have it. All it requires is a little bravery. Or a lot."

D. This song popped up on the internet today.  I'm not usually such a sap, but I liked the sentiment:

Happy Valentine's Day from Philly!

the eyes of my eyes are opened.

 e.e. cummings' "i thank you god for this most amazing" popped into my head this morning.  To me it's the happiest, sunshiney-ist poem in the world, a sincere prayer of gratitude that I have oft repeated. It reads:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

This morning I considered sarcastically rewriting it, including the damnable heavy rain and the tribulations of being a graduate student as apart of my fascetious catalog of blessings. I decided against it for sake of time (being in such a hurry to leave the house to go to school to read a book that I forgot at home, in the rush) and went on my merry day.

At midday, I hit the wall, admitted defeat, and resigned myself to the misery brought upon me by my own forgetfulness, copiers, my eagerness to sign up for conferences I don't have time for, and even my own acid tongue.  

It was an off day, and when I got home I started to tweet that the only redeeming quality of the it was that I had realized that I had good hair this morning, and throughout the mess of my day had continually been able to say, "at least I have really great hair."

But.

I kept finding things to add on that had made the day better, and had vastly exceeded my number of allowed characters with all of my qualifications.  There were so many redeeming qualities in my day! So many good people that make my life better! So many that I had to name them, one by one:

-an in-depth discussion about gin with L.

-A letting me whine ad nauseum about my troubles, including particularly pathetic complaints about soap residue. What a saint.

-unexpected professional development in class, which included a professor memorably giving a student five dollars for a well timed comment.

-Realizing with R that we constitute a peanut gallery, and getting to liken us to these guys:

(I am the short one, naturally)

-In turn, getting to talk about muppets at school.

-Did I mention how fun it is to have a girl friend here? Finally!

-A very nice girl brought "Happy World Series & Halloween" candy to class that included my favorite, Reese's PB cups.

-Seeing a modest, incredibly smart professor get the accolades she deserves. There was so much love in the room! Why do we wait until funerals to tell people how great they are?

-Free wine. Free wine. Free wine.

-M (a man) talking in a very loud voice about douching (you had to be there).

-My roommate telling me I should make cookies for our party instead of getting candy because my baking is so much better.

-A dry, low traffic, twilight ride home, complete with plenty of yellow leaves on the ground to ride through.

I don't talk to god hardly at all anymore, but some days I just have to put it out into the universe how glad I am that somebody- and so many- make(s) my life as beautiful and wonderful as it is. 

Good hair is a start, but being apart of everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes is so much better.

(excuse the wonky formatting... evil Blogger....)

this one's making me verklempt today.

the best fifty-nine cents i spent this summer.

Some people have backseats and trunks. I have the Ikea tarp bag. I got it on my first shopping trip in the city and have used it again and again. I can get on the bus with loads of stuff (like pillows) and it looks (and indeed is) completely controlled and deliberate. Why use five bags when you only need one? This bag kicks the ass of every other bag I own.

balance.

The lesson of the past day has been balance. There's been so much yin and yang going on that I feel a little startled by it. Perspective is all.

For example:
Got rear-ended yesterday afternoon BUT I got to see my cousin and his team from my alma mater play a lacrosse game in my 'hood.

His team lost BUT he gets the knowledge that family comes to his games, no matter where they are. Even if your older cousin is kind of embarrassing, she cares.

I didn't feel good BUT a friend brought over some Ben & Jerry's, with all its healing properties. I love my Utah friends so much. A girl could never have better caretakers.

I had to spend three hours at urgent care (plus 30 minutes travel each way) BUT I don't have brain damage or a broken neck.

I missed classes today BUT only 28 days until graduation.

I got a big stack of "explanation of benefits" forms from the kidney stone debacle that said I'll probably have to lay out 500 bones BUT in the same batch of mail I got an awesome supportive card from my grandparents. Love is what really matters, it's forever.

My house reeks to high heavens of Chinese food BUT my classy mother arranged for a hotel room for us when she's here-- so really only 27 days left in this apartment! Yeah!

Who knows what my funding situation is for next year BUT at least I did get a form to set up my email account at Temple-- I'm really going there!

I'm feeling very "count my blessings"-y right now... but hey, it's impossible to ignore that my life is filled with wonderful people who make it worthwhile. Life is good, even when it's not.

the moral of the story.

So today the thing most on my mind is how our lives get tied up with those of others. It's hard to articulate how you might not even remember meeting someone and how, over time and experience, fun and games and joy and pain and all of it, it's like you walk in step, you breathe at the same time, you think the same way or at least know what to expect from how they think, and suddenly or not so suddenly, what they do is inextricably a part of you and who you are and who you will be. I don't exactly get how we become so interwoven with people, how they become so braided into our lives that we don't know where they stop and we begin. It happens with people that we remember meeting, and people who aren't as tightly apart of our fabric, and people we tried to get rid of at certain points, but for whatever reason they stick and you find yourself with ties all over the place, with people who meet the needs of a particular moment, who tell you the right thing and the right time, who having been gone along time suddenly reappear. It is amazing to me to think of the people in my life who I couldn't imagine living without yet never imagined knowing. People we don't like and people we can't stop liking become indispensable.

We are the sum of our parts. Completely randomly I found myself in the Bible today-- via my cousin-- how the tables have turned-- and I loved this--

"Only let us live up to that which we have already attained."*

It's not about what we have, or who we have or who we don't have-- it's about what we've got and treasuring it, being the best at what we are and being treasured.


Thank you for reading my blog and being who you are.

*Philippians 4:16

house parties and being filled with love and whatevs.

Ok, so I am filled with love right now as I have just seen some of my friend's wedding pictures-- said wedding which of course I missed because I am a prisoner of the Wasatch Front*** and my thesis and goals and shit. Glad I saved the wine for Sunday because Sunday is always the day that I wish I had some, because I am prone to loneliness and reading outside and watching movies and being alone and stuff. Wine helps in making it suck less, which gives me some insight into Jesus, who also drank wine. I mean, after being chased around and shit by the Romans and the Pharisees et. al I think you would need something for the nerves. Which I can relate to, of course, because I am filled WITH NERVES because my successful interview lady HAS NOT EMAILED ME WITH HER CONTACTS. Which is a PROBLEM because I HAVE DEADLINES, PEOPLE.

Ok, but for your sake, I am going to keep it positive, because I am now, yet again, filled with white wine, and MORE unusually, filled with love. So first, my gramma is awesome because she called me back, and I haven't talked to her in a while, and she reminded me of the eight thousand reasons why I loved living with her-- the woman is amazing, she takes care of everybody and is SO UPBEAT ABOUT IT. And we just talked, like we used to when I would come home from school or reffing and she would tell me everything she ate that day and the dish on all the family. If you find me plodding about really, really fast in a pair of Sketchers with my sweatshirt sleeves rolled up, trust that I am trying to emulate this awesome woman who is clearly assuming the role of matriarch since the actual matriarch has taking to Houdini-ism******* (Gram-E's words, not mine). :D

Anywho, I watched Better Off Dead. For its genre ('80s teen movie) I thought it was pretty good-- in some ways it completely kills (SKI CHOREOGRAPHY?!?! ON ONE FOOT?!?!) and in other ways it sucks ass (weird talking hamburgers). I suppose one could just obtain some Warren Miller to compensate for the skiing but you have to see this film because, and only because, JOHN CUSACK IS SUCH A CUTIE. So cute, in fact, that all of his subsequent films INSTANTANEOUSLY BECOME ANNOYING!*

Now that I am having some Hogue it reminds me of a recent wedding that I DID attend in which I consumed about as much Hogue as I've had now. And I am filled WITH EVEN MORE LOVE. Which reminds me of a post I was intending to do about HOW MUCH I LOVE HOUSE PARTIES*****. Seriously, I told my friend that House Parties**** are better than church. Sure, I mean there isn't the God factor (which I dig, but find ways to encounter in everyday life) but in terms of social contacting, it's like all the mingling without feeling forced too BECAUSE IT'S MY CALLING, AND OMG, LITERALLY, GOD WANTS ME TO KNOW AND LOVE EVERYONE! So it's way more comfortable, and at this particular HOUSE PARTY OF AWESOME-NESS, not only did I find awesome Mexican beer but many awesome APPROACHABLE PEOPLE which made me feel better about humanity in general. I mean, so many people just living and keeping it real in the SLC and that's what it's all about, right?! Right, Jim Hortis, regular reader and impending birthday extraordinaire??!?!? I mean hell, there was even a bit o' dancing and talk of LINDA KERBER.

It is my opinion that Librarian House Parties are WAY cooler than Skiier House Parties... though Skiier House Parties are of course cool in their own way, like that one time they threw Joe in the hottub with his clothes on. Obviously the Skiiers are a younger crowd, which is again a way in which the Librarians rock, because they are more my age and shit, or at least more my type because they drink like fish but are not so young and overt about DRINKiNG ALL THAT NATTY LITE****** (Librarians are smart and do the Hard A). Cheers to Librarian House Parties, and also cheers to Jim, because I never had any Jack Daniels before (and cheers to Big Brother for the recommendation) and now a bottle of my own is totes on my list** and also to Jim, because he was in a drunken state of elasticity that made me really, really look forward to my own birthday. In AUGUST. DON'T FORGET. THERE WILL BE A HUGE PARTY.

Anywho, the moral of the story is that the day of loneliness is much tempered by a call back from GRAM-E and an 80's teen flick and a bottle o' Hogue.

Frick.

Now I have to go back and link all of my meaningful references.



*sorry ABOUT THE CAPS LOCK but every time I do it IT MAKES MY EYES BUG OUT and I feel SO FULL OF EMPHASIS. Like I'm not yelling at you, BUT MY EYES ARE BUGGY, kind of JUST LIKE MY WHOLE FAMILY DOES. Ok. Inside joke, I APOLOGIZE. :P

**Because white wines is kind of expensive to go through a bottle each time, you know? Hard A is more of an investment or at least economical IN THESE TIMES of ECONOMIC HARDSHIP. Because I keep spending ALL MY MONEY on GAS to drive to the RIVAL SCHOOL AND HAVE AMAZING MILKSHAKES. But I digress, because my tongue is numb.

***I only feel that way on Sundays, when I am too not-busy to feel otherwise.

****Capitalized because House Parties are my third favorite thing, behind Nieces/Immediate-family-tasticness (including Sister in Law!!! she is so rad!!! and such a contributor to feisty nieces!!!! yeah!!!!!!!) and Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Frosting.

*****U know it's on my Netflix queue!

******which too my credit I only drink after skiing when it's been chillin in the snow all day and usually I go to bed after the Hard A and good beer is gone and as a personal policy, do not ever, ever drink canned aluminium tasting beers, except after skiing.

and p.s. if i am ever applying for a job, this blog will become way, way more anonymous in about eight thousand different ways. just so you aren't worried about me being screwed and even more poor after all this hard work (in relation to my career, not work posting-- believe you me i save all the emotional work for my journal, suckaz-- and perceived as a three times a week lush or something, which seems like a lot more than it is, really.

p.p.s it was not the whole bottle, there is still a glass left, suuuccckkkazzz.

*******Her career as an escape artist, since her removal to the Fijian old person's home of compassion, though she does not remember it, inspires me, if anything because she is in some way sticking it to THE MAN in a way that I know she'll be proud of when she gets to a place after this life in which she's in a place to appreciate it because she has ROCKED being old . I like to think she would've wanted it that way, back in the day when she was just bragging about subscribing to Mother Jones and being naturopathic and taking laughing classes and being 90 and living alone. Great-g truly set the example for aging in our family in a way that I look for me and my bro and all of my cuz-power to rock. Watch out, suburbs of Tacoma.

it was so good that i even cried a little.

So I was having this sort of lonely day. I spent most of it at Liberty Park reading The Golden Compass (which I am so enjoying) and bike-watching, and as I was leaving I realized that I was practically the only person there alone, and yah, that made me sad, which is sometimes the cost of living far away from one's family and pursuing one's dreams. So I got back to the apartment and ate some soup and was like, WHAT DO I DO FOR THE REST OF THE DAY? because I had designated today to be sabbath-like and free of work (at my job and on my thesis) because I know that keeps me in a good state of mental health so I can come out swinging on Monday. Pretty soon I had tossed on a sundress and filled my Nalgene and went running off to the Trax.

Admittedly, I had never been to the movies by myself alone before, but sometimes you have to do things to connect to people you miss. Like sometimes I plod around the apartment with really heavy steps because it reminds me of my Gram-E, and sometimes I watch The Royal Tenenbaums because it takes me back to the many times I've watched that movie with my bro & sis and it like, you know, some how, momentarily, fills in the gap between the miles. So I was missing my friends today so the only real natural thing for me to do was to go see the Sex and the City movie. Say what you will about that show and how it conflicts with my feminism-- fuck you, women's lives are too messy for ideology to really work _all_ the time-- I loved it. It was less about sex than any episode of the show ever was, I thought, and more about the journeys women take through adulthood and how everything works out in the end and somehow through everything, there are always the people who made you who you are to come back to. So suck it. I liked it! Kim Cattrall was quoted as saying that the four women are really just the different parts that make up one woman, and I totally concur.

Speaking of Kim Cattrall, I especially liked Samantha in this movie. I have never connected particularly much to that character (I don't want an STD) but I thought she had the best lines and ultimately emerged as the character who was most true to herself and she did it in the most elegant, least whiny manner of all the characters. I thought the Carrie parts of the movie were kind of annoying but Sarah Jessica Parker's acting was generally much better than it ever was on the show.

The part about the movie I loved the most (other than the fashion... OMG it was like another character) was that as I came out of the film, I called one of my BFFs who lives in another time zone (as they all do, duh) AND SHE HAD BEEN AT THE MOVIE AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. We had talked about doing that but never really got around to solidifying it, so I consider it truly serendipitous that that happened-- karma, on the same wave length, whatevs-- I totally take it AS A SIGN. I am clearly more connected than I realized. And then I ate Ranch Pringles at the Trax stop. It was awesome.

p.s. As I was riding home the u-bombers totally got on the same train as me. I didn't join them because I lack a tiny bike and was a little too much on the gintastic side of things (what else do you think I put in that Nalgene???).

loVe yourself day.

I love Valentine's Day. I admit, my love for it is primarily commercial-- I love the pink and red, the hearts, the focus on chocolate. And in recent history-beginning last year, anyways- I have turned it into a celebration of self-love that I find quite fulfilling (not that I don't like to spread the love-- I did send my fair share of Valentines). Last year I made myself an amazing steak dinner complete with ingredients from Pike Place Market:


And this year I showered myself with modest gifts:


and will soon be settling down with a lovely bottle of Columbia Crest Chardonnay (not the whole bottle, I do have a job to go to tomorrow) and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked ice cream. I tell you all this because it is, for better or for worse, an embodiment of my philosophy: that being single is not a limitation, and for whatever reason it is a gift that I've been given for this time in my life. I could ask why, I could reject it and settle (the linked article is not for the drunk or faint of heart-- it will make you cry) or I could even fail to acknowledge the holiday at all, but alas, the fact of the matter is, I know I have value, I know I have worth, I know I have something to contribute to society, and by golly (cheesy, I know), that's a good thing. I confess, my confidence has been bolstered by positive feedback from a professor and that this post would not have been possible earlier in the day, but let me tell you what I realized after I got that feedback (which Mom, meant that you are not the only one who likes my writing!) (though it wouldn't be a bad thing if you were the only one who did-- love ya Mom!).

I was sitting at the Trax station, freezing, waiting for the train to come because I have not had the energy to work the bike commute in my usual fashion. But, as I partook of the cold night air, sitting in quiet reverie of my own book review genius that I had miraculously and aptly demonstrated, I watched couple after couple get off the train headed downhill (I was headed up). As they made a promenade of love along the platform, I thought, "This should make me sad" and then I realized, as perhaps I could only in my beaten down (by the week) yet euphoric state (by the feedback) that I am married to my work! I have become one of those women whom I was warned against becoming! Ha! I realized almost all of my waking hours have been devoted to my field-- whether transcribing oral histories or going to class or reading book after book after article after article-- and I do.not.want for anything!* Glorious moment of fulfillment indeed! So the moral of the story is (other than don't drink and post): (in the epic paraphrased words of Thoreau):

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life that you've imagined. Build your castles in the air, and then build foundations under them!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch The Notebook.** <3

*except to see my family, but hey, that's only natural and I'm pretty used to it. And perhaps money, but hey, I work with what I've got and I do ok. Especially with the new jobbie-job!

**because despite all of this self-love and career driven effulgence of feminism, and whatever I may say, for all the cheese, that movie is damn sincere.