beginnings and endings

Girl Sailor is one of my favorite songs from the new Shins album. I played it yesterday on the radio, and sat listening closely with headphones to the lyrics. Portland or not, this guy can write lyrics. Maybe its something about the sea air. Must give clarity. Here in the landlocked heartland, I feel less mutable. Way too condensed.

So, it is the last day of work for me for a few months. I always have trouble on this day. I think I write the same damn thing every year...
After 230 when I turn off the lights, lock the door and walk down the quiet hallway by myself to my car....what then? It is frightening. I am terrified for a few days-- certain that I am supposed to be somewhere. Yet, the possibilities are endless and I have trouble knowing which choice to make.

The gutter may profess its love,
Then follow it with hesitation,
But there are just so many of
You out there for rent

Sadly, I seem to keep making the wrong ones.

A stronger girl would shake this off in flight,
And never give it more than a frowning hour,
But you have let your heart decide,
Loss has conquered you,

You've won one too many fights,
Wearing many hats every time,
But you wont win here tonight,

So the house is bought, painted and moved in. Next week its health issues and surgery and the Living Will. Then continuing education stuff the week after. I need to start making some choices and stop dragging my feet. I am trying to give myself some credit for handling all of this solo--still isn't that what everyone does?

You've made it through the direst of straits alright,
Can you help it if plain love now seems less interesting?
You haven't changed an ounce in my eyes,
And I cannot lecture you,

And does anything I say seem relevant at all?
You've been at the helm since you were just five,
While I cannot claim to be more than a passenger,

I should be looking ahead with excitement to the Eurpoe trip. I just can't wrap my head around the idea yet. Perhaps when I am under the knife I will dream of it vividly. I suppose I am feeling jaded, unsatisfied, unchallenged and uncomfortable in my own skin. Not the best combination. I think I mask too many feelings with anger. It was an old Freud concept--using anger as a smoke screen for the real truth. What is my real inner truth?

ok--got to get back to grading...... then on to new beginnings--new faces and places. godspeed!

But, you've won one too many fights,
Wearing all of your clothes at the same time,
Let the good times end tonight,
Oh girl, sail her, don't sink her,
This time.

art and nature collide

enjoy!

mother-daughter

Jackson Brown

Jackson Brown is not given enough credit for his lyrics. While moving this weekend, I dug out a few of his old albums and found myself standing in the midst of a pile of memories while his steely voice echoed something from the other room.

I sobbed until the snot ran down into my mouth--and didn't even care.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my divorce being finalized. I remember taking that Friday off to do it. I guess it is appropriate that I chose yesterday to be the big move day. I will think about this day each year as a time of renewal, growth and change.


Between a life that we expected
And the way it's always been
I can't walk back in again
After the way we fight
When just outside there are people laughing
Living lives we used to lead
Chasing down the love they need
Somewhere in the night

Tender is the night
And the benediction of the neon light
Tender are the hunters, tender is the night

You're gonna want me tonight
When you're ready to surrender
Forget about who's right
When you're ready to remember
It's another world at night
When you're ready to be tender

And in the hard light of an angry sun
No one remembers what was said or done
Tender are the words they choose
You win, I win, we lose

Tender
Tender is the night
Tender
The benediction of the neon light
Tender
Tender are the hunters
Tender is the night
When they hold each other tight
Tender
Tender are the undercover
Tender
The stranger and the secret lover
Tender
Tender are the motions
Tender is the night
When you hold your baby tight

"Impossible Germany"

Impossible Germany
Unlikely Japan
Wherever you go
Wherever you land

I'll say what this means to me
I'll do what I can
Impossible Germany
Unlikely Japan

Fundamental problem
All need to face
This is important
But I know you're not listening
No I know you're not listening

This was still new to me
I wouldn't understand
Impossible Germany
Unlikely Japan
This is what love is for
To be out of place
Gorgeous and alone
Face to face

With no larger problems
That need to be erased
Nothing more important
Than to know someone's listening
Now I know you'll be listening

Great song off the new Wilco Blue Sky Blue
album comes out May 15.


she reminds me of me at age 4. Mom used to say she wanted to put me in a bottle and keep me when I was that age. That has always bothered me. Still, I understand her sentiment. Lilly is amazing.

As is the rest of my life--amazing and private and wonderful. Today was the best day off I have spent in years.
If you are part of my life, you know how delicious and beautiful and full it is.

Thank you --thank you for being part of it.

reckless abandon

Young Folks - Peter, Bjorn & John

if i told you things i did before
told you how i used to be
would you go along with someone like me
if you knew my story word for word
had all of my history
would you go along with someone like me

i did before and had my share
it didn't lead nowhere
i would go along with someone like you
it doesn't matter what you did
who you were hanging with
we could stick around and see this night through

and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about our own folks
talkin' 'bout our own stuff
all we care about is talking
talking only me and you





usually when things has gone this far
people tend to disappear
no one would surprise me unless you do

i can tell there's something goin' on
hours seem to disappear
everyone is leaving i'm still with you

it doesn't matter what we do
where we are going to
we can stick around and see this night through

and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about our own folks
talkin' 'bout our own stuff
all we care about is talking
talking only me and you

Been spending great times in great locales in great company.
Life is Beautiful.

the art of thinking

I am writing about thinking because I have had little time to do it. And that doesn't sit well. The questions is, am I willing to take time to think?
After all, thinking is the place where intelligent action begins. I find myself caught up in a flurry of constant, thoughtless activity. I give myself time to think while running, showering or driving. That's about it. How insane.

I must resolve to do more deliberate thinking.

on to other items of interest:

taken today at Oliver Winery 4-29-07

The condo is mine. I close on the place this Thursday. Talk about a HUGE production. I suppose it is necessary to make things like getting a college degree, buying a house or getting a divorce major hoop-jumping AND major cash-dropping. If not, everyone would be doing it. Frightening.

I have a few other pressing matters that demand my immediate attention--one being the tumor on my left pinky finger. Strange how I used to wonder what it must be like to have a cancer growing inside myself. I would cringe to think how horrific it must feel like to have a foreign body basically taking over various organs inhouse. Now, here I am, dealing with it is a less obtrusive way. Still the surgery is scheduled for the day school lets out. Maybe I can start playing banjo again.


Now that the production is up and on its feet, I can enjoy free time again. The run today was delightful--as if wading through luke warm waters until I was lost in the rhythmic trance..I will have to take you on that trail some time.

Well, must close. My back is killing me from hunching over this machine. Plus, I gots to get outside before the sun sets.
ciao, c

4 years ago, april 17

6:37 pm

lillian ruth


I love my girl!

I have been too busy to write, much less think the past few weeks. Between show, buying the condo, (3107 Westminster Way) school and Lilly there is little free time.

So much to say, but will have to wait for a better time. Hope you are well...

grace by faith

"To have faith is to believe unconditionally.."
fm. Don Miguel Ruiz The Four Agreements

On the rare occasions that I have time alone, I find myself almost overwhelmed by the possibilities that free time offer. Most days I am trapped in the spinning wheel--from the wee early hours up until nightfall. I drive home feeling cheated out of, again, another day spent dutifully performing my roles.

On days that I give in to the luxury of free time, I bask in the feeling and the moment. Today, I enjoyed touring an abandoned brick conservatory located on the far east side of town. Turkey Vultures flew skyward as we ventured closer, giving my daring friend time to investigate the inside.

We sat curbside afterwards, watching the sun set, discussing the possibility of refurbishing the run-down structure.
And although the idea seemed completely absurd, my friend's enthusiasm for the project was heartfelt.

I have yet to know where I will be living a month from now, but I have faith that somehow, whether living in this run-down conservatory or in the back of my rav-4, I will be happy.

I certainly hope so....

april is (still) the hardest time

A circumstance beyond our control, oh oh oh oh
The phone, the tv and the news of the world
Got in the house like a pigeon from hell, oh oh oh oh
Threw sand in our eyes and descended like flies
Put us back on the train
Oh, back on the chain gang

The powers that be
That force us to live like we do
Bring me to my knees
When I see what theyve done to you
But Ill die as I stand here today
Knowing that deep in my heart
Theyll fall to ruin one day
For making us part

I found a picture of you, oh oh oh oh
Those were the happiest days of my life
Like a break in the battle was your part, oh oh oh oh
In the wretched life of a lonely heart
Now were back on the train
Oh, back on the chain gang

(Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders)
****

I have been wanting to write for some time.
Now is not a good time-but I can't wait to put this out there.

While my girl sat by me, I broke out the instruments for the first time in years--practically when she was in the womb was the last time I played. My left hand almost completely crippled by scar tissue, it makes playing painful and almost impossible now.
Still, I tuned up the banjo and guitars and resorted back to memory to what I could do.

I fell into my usual songs I learned by ear by playing the records in my upstairs bedroom. This was the way I spent most of my weekend and evening time growing up--escaping the isolation and loneliness I felt even at 15.

I started in on the above song, one I have not played, uttered or heard in over 4 years. It came naturally, the way most kinesthetic things do to me--the words a little harder to come by. I remember the text the first time I read it written out on scrap paper-his spider-like scribble--black ink.

I was lost in a wonderful-terrible memory and singing full voice. I was gone for an instant, back to that Saturday in April, in the garage off of Clear Creek... and she brought me back--telling me my song hurt her ears.

Well, she had heard it before. Too bad Brie Cheese never was able to make its formal debut.
C

why I am who I am

iStock International Inc.

I want to do to you what springtime does to the cherry blossoms -PN

me.
I teach.
high school.
We started the new term today. I am exhausted--completely spent. Yet, I am way behind in grading and planning. Auditions are tomorrow-- I shouldn't be writing now.
But honestly after my first day of grammar and comp., emphasizing the importance of writing, I have to take pause and exhail.

People who don't work in the field of education don't have a clue as to what we do.
I find it frustrating that the general public is oblivious to the workload, the insane amount of energy and skill it takes to successfully teach teenagers and the pride we take in our life's work.

I suppose I should join the ranks of the mediocre; those who don't put heart into their work. After all, I am JUST a high school teacher. Grrr...
You try connecting to kids; giving them purpose, knowledge, modeling, a safe place to take risks, freedom to dream, to trust, to love something bigger than themselves.


OK, done with that. Now, on to kaisen...

Stuff I am currently listening to:
M. Ward 2003 Transfiguration of Vincent
Kaki King 2004 Legs to make us longer
Shins wincing the night away
Dean and Britta back numbers

new stuff soon to pick up:
Andrew Bird
Wilco
Arcade Fire

Reading:
The Diviners, Jim Leonard, Jr.
Picasso at the Lapin Agile, Steve Martin

Spring is rapidly approaching and I am terrified.

OK, back to werk.

SOMA, according to urban dictionary

1. soma
90 up, 22 down


A drug used in Huxley's futuristic utopian novel "Brave New World." The substance is supposed to have the affect of modern drugs, yet no side-effects. Could describe bliss, oblivion, pure love, or pure utopia.

Peace is my soma.

I have been thinking about the place I call SOMA lately. It's the place we all meet to commune, to partake. And when we are all gathered, I have this overwhelming sense of togetherness. I say, "we've all come home for Christmas,"
or "who let that guy into my kitchen?'

Soma is the place that starts my day. And it's not about the coffee.
It's the people. Thanks SOMA. You do in a small way offer me bliss, pure love and pure utopia.

Undertaker and other thoughts

Oh, love is so good when you're treated like you should be
The sky goes on forever in a symphony of song
And how water can flow like it's streaming out of fountains
And all you gotta do is find a sword and a stone

And how it takes on the night like birds of paradise
Like way down in pollyanna where the race runs wild

Oh, but if you're gonna leave, better call the undertaker
Take me under, undertaker
Take me home

Oh, just place me in a box and fasten all the locks
and with a one-two throw me over the bay side bridge


And so it goes.... and now mine:

I saw newly paved streets of deep, perfect black outlined with white on all sides,
the houses neatly framed in brick,
pristine in line and form.
I thought that
for an instant they had been designed
for the blizzard
the newly fallen snow.

It is always nice to leave your usual place to see something that changes your perspective on things.


This was one of those weekends for me.



Take back the lack of depth,

immerse oneself in the waters of snow or baptism

I'm glad to be alone.

I wrap the down blanket around my shoulders

and smile myself to sleep.


Monday morning.
My back aches from the constant lifting and moving
she kills me and doesn't know it.
I woke with black clouds and they linger at the temples and between my eyebrows.

It was the weekend that did it to me. Again, trying to play a role set out at birth--this girl, this woman, this daughter, this mother, this sister, this lover, this friend.. this person isn't me.

Not sure if it is the rejection, or the constant unablilty to match up with the expectations. I overheard my father boast about the couples getaway, talking in twos to married members. I, to the Catholic others--even my MS Lutheran parents, am cast out. I see them judging me--their eyes booring through me.

Our conversations are so banal. Nothing is ever said that means anything.
How I long for a real conversation. Ho I long to meet a real person that isn't hiding something or judging or has a hidden agenda. I stare blankly as the hours pass. Waiting for escape.
How freeing it would be to explore the depths of someone, to be vulnerable with another knowing they wouldn't disappear. But they always do.
Go back to that place again and again.
And every time it is the same. I hate myself for going back.

I visualize
myself in a pool of water flowing
a shallow ceiling allows for the echos and sounds of splashing in distant corners

the water is soothing and warm
like blood flowing

I close my eyes and inhail
the murky smells
slip under the water
my hair standing out around my face

slipping further under
I am free