1. I was riding my bike to school. I had only just left the house and was riding down a street called Henderson. I hear the rattling of metal against metal. Is another biker coming from behind? I turn and look an see a beautiful pit bull running full speed. Beautiful light brown dog. Oh wait, he's heading straight toward me. I turn forward to concentrate on pedaling faster. THWACK! I turn around where the dog had been a car just sped by. The dog was in a lump on the side of the road. It usually takes me 30 minutes to ride to campus. Today, it only took me 20. Sad sad puppy, why were you chasing me.
2. Riding home. I am annoyed. I have already had to stop twice to fix my bag which for some reason keeps sliding off my bike. I am riding, riding. I look down and notice my shoelace is caught in the gear and get wrapped around and around the pedal. Pull onto the sidewalk and slow down because I can't remove my foot from the pedal and I also can not turn the pedal because there is no more slack in my shoelace. Foot stuck to pedal I begin to lean on the that side. I know there is no where to go but down. Luckily there is grass and I fall onto my right side and my bike falls on me. Unluckily, there were cars stopped at the red light, cars in the gas station. Many many Hoosiers, saw this girl fall down.
Lesson: some days are not good for riding bikes, always tie your shoe laces very well, life is very temporary, enjoy it, but don't run into oncoming traffic.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
2 dreams and a meditations
1. I was sitting on the grass with Joyful Joyful who happened to be accepted to IU as a fiction writer. I asked if I could see her fiction and she said not yet. We looked up and these things that looked like birds but moved like helicopters were above us. lots of them. circling? flying? floating? Then a few began to fall. As they approached us they fell faster. It felt almost dangerous but they didnt land on us, only near us. It turned out they were gigantic dandelion seeds. (those little white puffs, but h-u-g-e).
2. Tomorrow was monday and I was supposed to ship out to Iraq. For some reason my and my sister had signed up to be in the army reserves earlier and now it was time. I was sad, anxious and mad. My sister had already left, but i needed to take care of a few things, including sending out a prayer request to all my friends. but i couldn't because first the computer keyboard was missing keys, then i only had a keyboard and no computer, then there was no internet. I was talking to some boy who was also shipping out. I was so angry that I had to go to Iraq, but then I said, why should angry, Hispanics and other minorities are already going to Iraq, why should i be any different. then i thought it was weird that i said the word hispanics instead of Latinos. But then I thought I just dont want to die. I need people to pray for me because it will be the only way to survive. As I was asking people to pray for me I was afraid they would not really pray for me, they way I had not really been praying about the Iraqi war because it had not been personal, it had not been my life until now.
3. Psalm 119. Not only is this the longest psalm, the writer seems genuinely desire to obey the Lords righteous Law which is peace-, life- and joy-giving. But he also asks the Lord to help him understand so he is able to follow the Lord's precepts. He also admits he is a sheep that has gone astray, that he has taken his life into his own hands. I really appreciate his desire to follow God, they way he knows it is the path of righteousness, joy, delight, life, and eternal life, but the way he also seems to be tripping over his enemies, tripping over his own wordly flaws. The one thing that never changes through-out the psalm is the face that he knows the law of Lord are his delight, his salvation, unchanging and wonderful. thank you psalm writer.
2. Tomorrow was monday and I was supposed to ship out to Iraq. For some reason my and my sister had signed up to be in the army reserves earlier and now it was time. I was sad, anxious and mad. My sister had already left, but i needed to take care of a few things, including sending out a prayer request to all my friends. but i couldn't because first the computer keyboard was missing keys, then i only had a keyboard and no computer, then there was no internet. I was talking to some boy who was also shipping out. I was so angry that I had to go to Iraq, but then I said, why should angry, Hispanics and other minorities are already going to Iraq, why should i be any different. then i thought it was weird that i said the word hispanics instead of Latinos. But then I thought I just dont want to die. I need people to pray for me because it will be the only way to survive. As I was asking people to pray for me I was afraid they would not really pray for me, they way I had not really been praying about the Iraqi war because it had not been personal, it had not been my life until now.
3. Psalm 119. Not only is this the longest psalm, the writer seems genuinely desire to obey the Lords righteous Law which is peace-, life- and joy-giving. But he also asks the Lord to help him understand so he is able to follow the Lord's precepts. He also admits he is a sheep that has gone astray, that he has taken his life into his own hands. I really appreciate his desire to follow God, they way he knows it is the path of righteousness, joy, delight, life, and eternal life, but the way he also seems to be tripping over his enemies, tripping over his own wordly flaws. The one thing that never changes through-out the psalm is the face that he knows the law of Lord are his delight, his salvation, unchanging and wonderful. thank you psalm writer.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Ode to the City
Ode to the City
In the rear-view mirror
grey and brown smog
thickens.
The skyscrapers
are a breath,
exhaled.
I drive over
the tattooed concrete
of the River, before
I can turn
my head.
Brake lights
loosen
like un-
braiding hair.
The road,
daisy petals,
unfold.
I love you, I love you not
I belonged to you
Like a middle child
And you
Belonged to me
Like the worn soles
Of my tennis shoes.
I push you out the windows,
you will fall
because all I see are fields.
Sidewalks end
again and again
in green.
Traffic is a stop sign.
There are no gates,
no fences,
no walls cuffed with barbed wire.
I do not miss
your clenched-teeth
streetlight,
helicopter searchlight,
motion-censor garage light,
keys-between-my-knuckles
nights,
but the crowds,
voices overlap,
songs escape open car windows,
ice cream trucks meander,
flip-flops and high heels
cross the street at the intersection.
The weeds, the tree-roots smuggle
their way up
through the asphalt
to find the sun
to whisper to me, to trip
me into seeing myself.
You hold a certain shape,
held me in my place.
The outline of me
is still your silhouette like
the yellow peels of light
around the curtained
windows at night.
My skin no longer
smells of you,
my heartbeat out-of-sync with
your stop-and-go rhythm.
I am afraid
this Green Spaciousness,
the tap water
the streets dotted
with strangers’ smiles
have left me
shapeless.
Without your
brick, cinderblock, glass, concrete arms
I am pouring out the seams,
I am water
lost
in
the sky.
In the rear-view mirror
grey and brown smog
thickens.
The skyscrapers
are a breath,
exhaled.
I drive over
the tattooed concrete
of the River, before
I can turn
my head.
Brake lights
loosen
like un-
braiding hair.
The road,
daisy petals,
unfold.
I love you, I love you not
I belonged to you
Like a middle child
And you
Belonged to me
Like the worn soles
Of my tennis shoes.
I push you out the windows,
you will fall
because all I see are fields.
Sidewalks end
again and again
in green.
Traffic is a stop sign.
There are no gates,
no fences,
no walls cuffed with barbed wire.
I do not miss
your clenched-teeth
streetlight,
helicopter searchlight,
motion-censor garage light,
keys-between-my-knuckles
nights,
but the crowds,
voices overlap,
songs escape open car windows,
ice cream trucks meander,
flip-flops and high heels
cross the street at the intersection.
The weeds, the tree-roots smuggle
their way up
through the asphalt
to find the sun
to whisper to me, to trip
me into seeing myself.
You hold a certain shape,
held me in my place.
The outline of me
is still your silhouette like
the yellow peels of light
around the curtained
windows at night.
My skin no longer
smells of you,
my heartbeat out-of-sync with
your stop-and-go rhythm.
I am afraid
this Green Spaciousness,
the tap water
the streets dotted
with strangers’ smiles
have left me
shapeless.
Without your
brick, cinderblock, glass, concrete arms
I am pouring out the seams,
I am water
lost
in
the sky.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I am here to cultivate spaciousness
I toss used q-tips in the trash,
shirts that never did fit
and papers, papers, papers:
bank statements
to do lists, dusty birthday cards
never-been-opened yearbooks
broken clothes pins,
maps of the world where africa
and greenland are of equal size
banana peels, day old coffee and cardboard boxes.
I sweep up dust in the halls, wipe out
the microwave, set the dishes out on the
curb with a sign that says, FREE
i trash my skin that binds the heart
my eyes that close
my fear's shrill voice
i am driving across the country
leaving my mother in the pacific ocean
my sister singing jazz at Nic's Martini Lounge
my grandma with her kitchen all a mess
my brother on an airplane
my grandpa in 2 dimensions
my cousins stretched faces and long arms and legs
my friends in cubicles, on buses, on street corners
on freeways, on the 37th floor in the second tallest building,
on dates with people i haven't met
i bring with me two suitcases of books
a teddy bear, a seashell,
and 4 pairs of paints 3 skirts
and shirts i have not counted
my teeth and the cavities in them
and the memory of the man
black skin against
the sunrise above of building and clouds
and the streets littered with palm trees
the felt like a secret too beautiful
to even whisper
and as he pushed his shopping cart full of cans
and i neared my bus stop and I said good
morning and asked him how he was
and he said,
Blessed, blessed to be alive.
shirts that never did fit
and papers, papers, papers:
bank statements
to do lists, dusty birthday cards
never-been-opened yearbooks
broken clothes pins,
maps of the world where africa
and greenland are of equal size
banana peels, day old coffee and cardboard boxes.
I sweep up dust in the halls, wipe out
the microwave, set the dishes out on the
curb with a sign that says, FREE
i trash my skin that binds the heart
my eyes that close
my fear's shrill voice
i am driving across the country
leaving my mother in the pacific ocean
my sister singing jazz at Nic's Martini Lounge
my grandma with her kitchen all a mess
my brother on an airplane
my grandpa in 2 dimensions
my cousins stretched faces and long arms and legs
my friends in cubicles, on buses, on street corners
on freeways, on the 37th floor in the second tallest building,
on dates with people i haven't met
i bring with me two suitcases of books
a teddy bear, a seashell,
and 4 pairs of paints 3 skirts
and shirts i have not counted
my teeth and the cavities in them
and the memory of the man
black skin against
the sunrise above of building and clouds
and the streets littered with palm trees
the felt like a secret too beautiful
to even whisper
and as he pushed his shopping cart full of cans
and i neared my bus stop and I said good
morning and asked him how he was
and he said,
Blessed, blessed to be alive.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Some Pictures 2
Some Random Pics:
E is a poet who I went with around Bloomington to pick up cans for the Food Bank. She is taking a foto class and stopped to fotograph some fake dear.
Pickled Rope Bologna at the Supermarket. There is nothing more to say. (except no local, southerner, or foreigner I spoke to sounded enthused by such an invention).
Good Ice cream to be had at the Chocolate Moose.
Some of the cast on my Life in Indiana:
Josh and Jackson (the cat). One his favorite poses is rolling around on his back when people sit in the living room.
Doris and Josh are married. Doris is a nurse and a Grad Student (public health). Josh is an engineer who makes things not explode at a Navy Base. I didnt know they had Navy in IN, either.
Genese is on IV staff.
More of where I live:
Tree in the backyard
Bus stop across the street from my house
feet in the grass
flowers on the back porch
E is a poet who I went with around Bloomington to pick up cans for the Food Bank. She is taking a foto class and stopped to fotograph some fake dear.
Pickled Rope Bologna at the Supermarket. There is nothing more to say. (except no local, southerner, or foreigner I spoke to sounded enthused by such an invention).
Good Ice cream to be had at the Chocolate Moose.Some of the cast on my Life in Indiana:
Josh and Jackson (the cat). One his favorite poses is rolling around on his back when people sit in the living room.
Doris and Josh are married. Doris is a nurse and a Grad Student (public health). Josh is an engineer who makes things not explode at a Navy Base. I didnt know they had Navy in IN, either.
Genese is on IV staff.More of where I live:
Tree in the backyard
Bus stop across the street from my house
feet in the grass
flowers on the back porch
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Some PIctures
Where I live
IU Symbol (someone says, "it kinda looks like the devil's pitchfork?"
My first day of teaching. That light in the corner, that is the globe of knowledge I will pass on to my eager students.
IU Symbol (someone says, "it kinda looks like the devil's pitchfork?"
My first day of teaching. That light in the corner, that is the globe of knowledge I will pass on to my eager students.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
For the Soldier who was honored at the RNC
I have nothing to say for the Navy Seal
who threw his body on a grenade
and with the words, "Roger, that."
exited this world with muscles and
bones on the outside of his flesh.
His buddies lived.
If he had lived he would have seen
his story on the big screen
at the republican nat'l convention.
If he could have just saved an ear
to hear the music that narrated his life,
the noble Chopin, the brooding Beethoven.
If he could have just saved an eye
to see all the Navy Seals decorating his coffin
with the gold bits from their uniform
before it was lowered into the dirt.
As the rectangle of red,
white and blue waved on the screen
all the wives cried and all the
ex-service men and women
nodded their heads in agreement.
Country first. Country first.
Oh soldier, you are not just propaganda.
Your name was deleted from cell phones
when your classmates could no longer bare to see your name.
Your clothes were boxed up and dropped
off at the salvation army.
The last grocery list you wrote before you
were deployed is in your wife's jewelry box.
Your mother still cries and not just at night
during the dreams where bits her boy's body
float through an unfamiliar heat,
& land in the sand and on the faces
of the ones who lived.
You who fought in this man's army
are a tally mark in this new century.
a another victim in another war. I am sorry,
but I don't believe in heroes.
who threw his body on a grenade
and with the words, "Roger, that."
exited this world with muscles and
bones on the outside of his flesh.
His buddies lived.
If he had lived he would have seen
his story on the big screen
at the republican nat'l convention.
If he could have just saved an ear
to hear the music that narrated his life,
the noble Chopin, the brooding Beethoven.
If he could have just saved an eye
to see all the Navy Seals decorating his coffin
with the gold bits from their uniform
before it was lowered into the dirt.
As the rectangle of red,
white and blue waved on the screen
all the wives cried and all the
ex-service men and women
nodded their heads in agreement.
Country first. Country first.
Oh soldier, you are not just propaganda.
Your name was deleted from cell phones
when your classmates could no longer bare to see your name.
Your clothes were boxed up and dropped
off at the salvation army.
The last grocery list you wrote before you
were deployed is in your wife's jewelry box.
Your mother still cries and not just at night
during the dreams where bits her boy's body
float through an unfamiliar heat,
& land in the sand and on the faces
of the ones who lived.
You who fought in this man's army
are a tally mark in this new century.
a another victim in another war. I am sorry,
but I don't believe in heroes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)