Louisa May Alcott, The Avett Brothers, Sisters, etc.

"Then as now, thirteen is a critical age for a girl.  It is at this age, as feminist writer Carol Gilligan among others has explained, that girls begin to lose their original voices.  They are mercilessly pressured by the world around them, the impossible models provided by society, their parents' expectations, and the landslide of feelings and opinions released by their emerging, delicious, and unconscious sexuality.  Under this onslaught of expectation, many young girls are pushed away from their original childhood selves and become silent hybrids, creatures molded so much by their environment that it is hard to recognize who they really are."

                                                       - Susan Cheever, Louisa May Alcott (publishing next month)


Ever wonder who you might have become if the rules & expectations surrounding you when growing up had been different?  Or even different now?

As for my mentioning not having free time because of a boy I liked... well, scratch that.

At the least, the end of a relationship does do amazing things for opening up your ears to fantastic "break-up" songs.  As if The Avett Brothers weren't cool enough already.  Speaking of, I get to review their new live album - just got my advance copy.  Can't say the week didn't go down as a win.

"I say it's not that simple - but then again it just may be."

Also - my step-sister Amy's birthday was this week - and I got to go out on the town with too many beautiful girls to handle at any given time.  I have pictorial proof.

My sisters!  The birthday girl is in stripes.  I am clearly checking out a hottie across the room.  We went to see the Josh Abbott band.  I had so much fun - wish these gatherings happened more often!

On soulmates:

Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

"And please don't laugh at me now, but I think the reason it's so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed David was my soul mate."

"He probably was.  Your problem is you don't understand what that word means.  People think a soul mate is a perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants.  But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.  A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.  But to live with a soul mate forever?  Nah.  Too painful.

Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.  And thank God for it.  Your problem is, you just can't let this one go.  It's over, Groceries.  David's purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it.  That was his job, and he did great, but now it's over.  Problem is, you can't accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life.  You're like a dog at a dump, baby - you're just lickin at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it.  And if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable.  So drop it."

"But I love him."

"So love him."

Are You There God?

Since living by myself, I've been trying to focus my projects, as I tend to be like one of those people on the four corners with one appendage in Utah, another in Arizona, another in New Mexico, and a leg in Colorado, with my neck probably craned towards the sea.  Except instead of states I've got my attention pulled between work, blogging, writing, Netflix, my new darkroom set and Pentax camera, poetry, reading blogs, running, first dates, cooking... so I've been trying to prioritize.  My focus has been predominately work, poetry, (Lennon and Keith just self-published chap books to sell while they go on tour, and I thought, why can't I do that with all my old poems?  It will clear space in my head to start new poetry projects), reading how to use my Pentax, and just reading in general.  I'm working on The Historian and Eat, Pray, Love, both difficult to put down unless sleep forces me.

Today in the grocery store, the best thing in a blogger's life could happen - someone recognized me!  At first I thought my cart was in her way, (the Hyde Park HEB is always a grocery cart demolition derby spectacle), but then I realized she was trying to get my attention.  It made my day!  It also made me realize that I have been neglecting my blog, partly from being too chicken to take my own pictures in public, and partly from being absurdly busy - recently from writing for Venus - which is awesome.  Although I dropped $20.00 on a digital camera remote control, and my dad gave me a tripod, so really I have no excuses.  I will swallow my fears and step up my game in the photography department, promises.

And while I get comments, (which I adore - thank you!), it still sometimes feels as though hitting "post" is publishing photos and thoughts into a great internet anonymous void, leaving my brain to quote the title of one of my favorite books, Are You There God?  It's Me, Margaret.  Are you there interwebz?  It's me, Amanda...

This summer I may need to collect my copy of that book from my grandmother's and re-read it, (for about the seventh time).  That, and Starring Sally J. Freedman As Herself.  Those were my two "it" books in adolescence.  Well, those and anything by Roald Dahl, which probably explains a lot about why I'm so weird.

 
I never did get around to reading Youth in Revolt, so I need to get on that ASAP too, before the movie comes out, (also why I'm reading Elizabeth Gilbert's first book before Julia Roberts' portrayal of her hits the screen -- I'll be front row).

What were your "it" books while growing up?

Meeting God

Because I am incapable of going to sleep before 2 a.m., regardless of what time I woke up this morning or when responsibility dictates I should wake up tomorrow (today?), I was possessed by the whim to scan a few of the vibrant photographs from one of my favorite college "text books," (being an English literature major with loads of elective courses in religious studies, I had very few actual text books). 

Meeting God almost looks like a coffee table book because of its full size, color photographs on every page, but it's so rich with information, text, explanations, stories, history, and new things to wonder about, that it most certainly earns a title over the waiting room status of "coffee table books."  The American Museum of Natural History stocks it, so surely it has some heft in the world of academia.  Regardless, the photos are the selling point.

My copy is filled with underlinings of purple pen from my notes when reading it for a world religions summer school class in college.  And for the sake of honesty: I'm one of those people who took summer school classes for fun.  Every year.  Religious studies, Mesopotamian history, civics, survey of international politics... whenever I'm interested in something, I devour it, (although civics and politics are two interests I really couldn't care less for now, which is terrible, yeahyeahyeah - so I hear we passed a health care bill?). 

I'm not sure if I'm simply hungering for some sort of visual inspiration, or a color feast, or if wanderlust is setting in and I'm craving anything I associate with travel.  Either way, I scanned a few of my favorite photos to share.

I really want an elephant to pat me on the head.  And to wake up early in the morning and pray in cold river water.  And to wear a sari and not look like a lame tourist, (I have no delusions about this ever happening).

Also for the sake of honesty : before anyone calls me an over idealizing romantic in terms of other cultures, all I have to say to you is this: salmonella, my old friend.

I check Lonely Planet for openings for writers almost monthly, but am yet to ever see a call for a position I could actually fill.  Although after reading Do Travel Writers Go To Hell? I may be tempted to one day say "forget the safety of sponsored travel," as "safety" was a loose term according to the author.  All I need is my camera, a writing utensil, and some gumption, right?  I have gumption.

Now back to my day dreaming.  Er, night dreaming.  It's really time for bed.

Julie Powell's Memoir "Cleaving"

Julie Powell

I finished Julie Powell's second book Cleaving while I was in Little Rock.  Like most of the people who have contributed to her success, I have an inexplicable fascination with her.  The obvious reason must be because I see myself as a near-thirty, semi-adrift, wanna-be writer with growing worries as to when the grandiose plans of my youth are planning to bear fruit... just like Julie in Julie and Julia. 

Perhaps I should be more worried by the fact that I enjoyed Cleaving because I also saw myself in this completely different version of Julie Powell: an attention craving, outside approval seeking, game playing manipulatress (yes I made that word up) with membrane-thin concentration on carefully chosen projects to try and distract from incessant wants, (wants damaging to both the wanter and the wanted[s]).

While the book was odd in that it goes from butcher shop to recipe to love affair to marriage to repeat to "oh, hey I'm in Buenos Aires!  And Nairobi!  Or some such place..." and back to butcher shop, I still found it intensely readable.  Proust it is not, but sometimes I don't want Proust, I want cake.  This was cake, and for that I congratulate her. 

My disappointment in the book  was the lack of revelation or epiphany at the end.  Another character calls her "zen-like" in her attitude towards herself, her husband, and their various infidelities, but the cause of that one-ness with the world wasn't spelled out for me beyond a single sentence where she says she is not bothered by her husband's lover, as she gives the girl props for having good taste in men.  Her lover issue is resolved in that the guy disappears, an apparent pattern.  Where's the catharsis!?  The take-home lesson!?  The applicable insight I can use to move past being like the Julie of the first few hundred pages of the book!?

Maybe she's saving it for the next memoir...

The guts and gore of the book, (it is about butchering, partially... I had to know what I was getting in to), were particularly uncomfortable for myself, a vegetarian, to read.  While she tried to describe the beauty and delicacy of meats, her descriptions of pulling apart animal muscles at the seam, cows hooked to ceilings, and depressed pigs being shot between the eyeballs and stabbed, really just affirmed my commitment to an avoidance of livestock. 

And possibly affairs.  If anything, she reminded me that nothing is worth the drama, the heart ache, the lying, the everything associated with betrayal.  

To counter-balance this book, I have started reading Elizabeth Gilbert's (of Eat, Pray, Love fame) new book Committed.

Three chapters in and I'm already questioning my OCD need for high-security protected personal space, my tendency to title my life-chapters by the names of the boys I dated at the time, and I can have a great laugh at people claiming that marriage is "biblical" and "holy."  I guess I need to read my new testament a little more closely.  Apparently, the apostles claimed God didn't like the marrieds with all their sex and babies!  Unclean!  Ha!

Ok, back to my book.

Austin Area Interreligious Ministries Book Club

Working until 8PM is not always conducive to participating in the range of events that occur between the 5 o'clock and 8 o'clock hours.  Events I typically miss include book signings, church dinners, early concerts, trivia night, and happy hour, .  So while I get to sleep in every day, I miss a lot of the good stuff that goes on in Austin, including the Austin Area Interreligious Ministries Spirituality Book Club that I have always wanted to go to, and finally got the chance this past Monday!

If you haven't heard of AAIM and believe in any sort of divine presence, whether as an abstract, theoretical concept, or a blue man with lots of faces, you should consider their mission statement and visiting their website: "Think globally, grow personally / AAIM unites faith and cultural communities to foster respect, partnership and transformation in service of the common good."  Congregations of all faiths and beliefs participate in AAIM events, lectures, and holiday celebrations, and the book club on Monday was a great example of that: thirty-seven people from a wide spectrum of religious backgrounds (some of them straight and narrow, others meandering, and everything in between), gathered on the top floor of Book People at 7PM to talk about the Bhagavad Gita with three representatives from the Austin Hindu Temple.

I've read the small book three times between high school and undergraduate school, but that was several years ago, so I was sadly rusty on my memories of the book's substance, aside from the notes I'd penciled in the margins of my copy during a professor's lecture.  The basic "plot" of the book is this: there is a Hindu warrior about to go into battle, when Krishna, the avatar of a Hindu god, appears beside him and gives him a semi-lengthy talking to about life and how to best live it.  Gandhi was a fan.  Most of the questions and discussion centered on the concept of Karma Yoga, or the result of a person's actions, and the necessity of balancing action, inaction, and knowledge.  I personally related this to my slothfulness/inaction at getting out of bed in the morning - a few good prostrations with gratitude to the Earth after the alarm sounds might get the blood flowing. 

The Gita scholar who led the discussion was Dr. Madhi P. Godsay, and if you have any questions about the Gita or Hinduism, I highly recommend contacting him.  His email is: mpgodsay@yahoo.com.  The pastor of my church, Greg McDonell, facilitates the book club and to reach him or get on the AAIM book club email list: greg@cpcaustin.org.


The next book club meeting will be February 8th, and the book selection is What's Right with Islam is What's Right for America.

Pastor Greg sent this clip from Karen Armstrong's forward:  "Imam Rauf's book has a positive message. It helps Muslims and Western peoples see a way out of the present impasse, in which atrocity leads to retaliation, attack to counterattack, to preemptive strike and a new spate of terror.  If we are to break out of this vicious cycle, we must learn not simply to tolerate but to appreciate one another........The blazing towers of the World Trade center symbolize, perhaps, our collective failure to pass this test.  This book shows that the only possible way forward is by the assiduous cultivation of mutual respect.  It should be read, but then - even more important - it should be acted upon."

Also, this just in from Pastor Greg: "I am so excited to report that good friend and founder of the Institute for Interfaith Dialog  (www.interfaithdialog.org), Gunar Arslan, Ph.D, will be joining us for our discussion on Feb. 8th.  I am also in hopes that some of our Muslim neighbors will join us as well."

I doubt I will have that Monday evening off, so please someone go and then report back to me on your thoughts and incites gained from the discussion!

Speaking of mutual respect and karma yoga and loving our neighbors, here is a list compiled by CNN of ways to help Haitians and all affected by yesterday's earthquake: Impact Your World.

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If you haven't entered the contest for my bird and jewelry lover's necklace giveaway and want to participate, do so by leaving a comment here! 

 

A Book A Week + Paper vs. Techy

For a recently-former high school English teacher, I have been a total slacker in my reading as of late.  This is made especially apparent when I read about guys like Inaki Escudero who had the diligence to read a book a week for a year, (only 52 books).  Michael Surtees interviewed Escudero, and asked him how he was motivated to set the goal of reading a book a week.  Escudero referenced a New York Times article where a reporter had been in a race with the president to read the most books, and the president read 28.  (George Bush - really??  Ok sorry...).  Escudero rationalized that if a man as busy as the president can accomplish 28, then surely he could up the ante on his own literary intake.

One of my goals for 2010 is to read more print material.  My default waiting-around reading material is twitter on my iphone, which is beyond sad, and embarrassing to admit.  This is partially why I've started debating the merits of an electronic reader.  As much as I love (love) printed books, I have a difficult time justifying the amount of paper they use, and the space they take up in my small apartment - not to mention how many heavy boxes they fill every time I move, (which let's remind myself, was four times last year).

The two I've heard the most about are the Amazon Kindle and the Barnes and Noble Nook.  Are there others on the market?  Does anyone own one?  The idea of being able to carry a chunk of my library is incredibly tempting, especially since I'm the type to read three books at once, and just keep each one in a different room of the house.  I also leave books out of my purse if they are heavy or thick, but I like being able to write in the margins.  Dilema.

I've got a huge wish list on Amazon, and my eye on a few books I'd like to get to this year:

Fever Chart by Austin author (and friend of Eirik) Bill Cotter

Tales of a Punk Rock Nothing, recommended by my favorite Kinkos Club president and friend Laney

Life Is A Verb by Patti Digh

The China Study, because I'm one of those weird healthy food obsessed people... except for Cheetos.  God, I love cheetos.

Jesus Wants to Save Christians by Rob Bell.  I also love Rob Bell.

Generations: The History of America's Future

It's Only Temporary: The Good News & Bad News About Being Alive

For wanting to be a fiction writer, I certainly snub fiction.  I'm always open to good book recommendations, though, so if anyone's got any they are itching to share, please send them my way.  I love any excuse to buy a new (or used) book.

Strawberry Fields Forever: John Lennon, Andrew Zuckerman's Wisdom, and Hug-a-Lennon

John Lennon

 9 October 1940 - 8 December 1980

We All Shine On

One of the books on my Christmas list this year is Wisdom by Andrew Zuckerman.    It features photographs and interviews with fifty writers, actors, artists, designers, politicians, musicians, religious and business leaders who are all over sixty-five years old.  People interviewed include the Dalai Lama, Ted Kennedy, Desomd Tutu, Nelson Mandela, Madeline Albright, and my personal favorite: Jane Goodall. 

I heard about this book from Jim Burke, the teacher every teacher aspires to be, when he mentioned it as supplemental reading for Herman Hesse's Sidhartha.  It seems an appropriate mention on the anniversary of John Lennon's death, as his ideas of peace permiate Zuckerman's book. 

If ordering a book isn't on your agenda, then you can always celebrate John Lennon's life the way I did: hug-a-living-Lennon.  Unless they're making scary faces like this.  Then wait till later. 

Motivational Monday: Lessons from Children's Literature on Bravery

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."    Christopher Robin to Pooh

I don't squeeze people's hands when I shake them.  I have never known if this is because I am uncomfortable with physical closeness towards people I don't know, if I don't squeeze hard because I don't like having mine crushed in turn, or if it's because of what I was accused of not long ago: being afraid to establish my presence.  

Like a lot of people, I've spent a large portion of my life trying to be inconspicuous and not get into other people's way by avoiding confrontations.  When younger, this manifested itself through the desire to have Airwalk tennis shoes, Jnco jeans, and a penchant for being well-behaved.  The most outlandish things I have ever done with my appearance are my all-black phase (which was more camouflage than a stand-out technique) and a partially-pink hair stint.  These are superficial manifestations, but there were more serious consequences to not wanting to be noticed, such as not participating in class discussions in college, not stating opinions in a public sphere, or seeking permission and approval for everything I want to do. 

It always makes me smile when I see the bumper sticker: "well behaved women rarely make history."  It's true, isn't it?  Since standards of "well-behaved" have shifted over the decades, and often enough the societal norm has been in the wrong - such as when it said certain people couldn't vote, or hold particular jobs, or speak freely. 

I finally finished Sidra Stone's book, The Shadow King.  The main point that I took away from it, is that now when I feel myself starting to get frustrated with myself, a situation, or another person, (especially my roommates), I stop and re-evaluate where my impulse behavior is really stemming from - is it a frustration that is actually my own, or something I've learned - like the idea that I should be demure, that other people should take care of me, that I should take care of the house, that I shouldn't act without the approval of male figures in my life?  When I was considering buying a new camera last week, I realized that I asked the advice of two boys and my father first, and didn't seek any female input or trust myself to make the decision independently.  Why?

At the end of the book, Stone writes "everyone 'knows' that it is feminine to be receptive and available, to be able to interact smoothly and pleasantly with other people and to blend our energies with theirs...as women, it is important for us to have some awareness of our own energy fields and to have real choice in whether or not they are open." She states that "the goal is mastery of your own domain."  It takes a high level of bravery and confidence to declare yourself master of your own domain, as it means you have to trust yourself.

And that's the whole point - you have to trust yourself and your true thoughts, not the ones that you hear in someone else's voice, no matter how closely it mimics your own.   

It seems fitting that Where the Wild Things Are has undergone a rebirth in popularity since the release of the film.  What better to model the balance between bravery, dominion of one's own terrain, as well as accepting (and respecting) the love given us to other people, than a small boy who declares himself king to avoid becoming the dinner of wild things, who at the end of the day boldly weathers a stormy sea to sail home so he can both show and receive love. 

What monsters are you scared of rising up in front of you, or tigers are you worried are waiting on the other side of the door?  Even something as simple as writing a blog post is a challenge for me, since it opens up my words and ideas to ridicule - a terrifying thought.  So this is me being brave, writing in a public sphere with all the possibility of looking silly looming around me.  But, I've decided I don't care, and here's the first step towards acting on courage as opposed to fear:

1) Remember that most monsters are imaginary, and many aren't nearly the threats that they may seem.

2) Let your curiosity be stronger than your fear.  If the door to where you go seems dark and hermetically sealed... find a drill, and start small. 

3) Believe you are the king, (or queen), and declare yourself as such.  Don't be arrogant, but confidant.  You have no reason not to be. 

4) Light your own path.  There is nothing in nature that says a negative force is stronger than a positive force.  Why should it be that way in your head?  Brighten your thoughts and everything around you.

5) Take the first step and trust yourself to know the way.  Getting lost is ok, sometimes that's the point of the trip.  The final destination isn't always what you expect it to be, and that makes the adventure all the more exciting.

With my lighting bolts a glowin' I can see where I am goin'

Little Rock Central High School's GSA Club

Last night I got in bed and curled up with the latest issue of NEA Today.  Even though I'm not teaching this year, I'm still a member of the National Education Association, and receive their magazine as a benefit.  The cover stories "Literature in the Digital Age" and "Religious Groups Reach Out to Schools" initially attracted me to the October/November issue, but reading through it, I turned the page and got very excited to see a photograph of a familiar sight - Little Rock Central High School.

Most people recognize Central High as the infamous sight of the Little Rock Nine, where Little Rock public schools attempted integration for the first time by enrolling nine students from the all-black high school across town.  One of the most famous images of this incident is that of Elizabeth Eckford attempting to enter the school while separated from the other eight.  The incident gained national press when the National Guard was called in, Little Rock's white population went crazy, and the following year all schools were closed to eliminate the possibility of integration.  I'm happy to say, as a Little Rock native, that this is not the climate in Little Rock any more.  When I was in eighth grade, the 40th anniversary of the incident rolled around and President Clinton came to speak to the huge, multi-ethnic crowd.  In fact, I'd venture a guess that Central High is now majority African-American.  There are also a lot more private schools in Little Rock with large white populations... but we won't get in to that now. 

The facade of Central is still just as grand as ever, but I remember visiting friends there when I had a day off from my private school, and some of the walls were crumbling in the classrooms.  Luckily, (prepare for a bad pun), walls aren't the only things that are still crumbling at Central, (and in all fairness, they might have repaired that problem since I was last there).

 

The article I turned to in NEA Today was called "The Power of One," and was written to encourage teachers to embrace students of the GLBTQ (gay, lesbian, bi, transgender, queer) community in order to prevent incidents ranging from bullying, to dropping out, to suicide.  The driving point of the article is to remind educators of the importance of "adults who will stand up for (the GLBTQ students)" being present in schools.

Aside from both loving the message and bitterly thinking about how my job might have been in jeopardy if I had ever proposed sponsoring a Gay Straight Alliance at the last school I worked in, I got excited to see that the curly haired youth on the far right is Devon Beardon, a student I had the pleasure of meeting at CAR - the Center for Artistic Revolution, in Little Rock when I visited their youth section - DYSC - Diverse Youth for Social Change.

Both CAR & DYSC are amazing programs headed up by Randi Romo, who is Devon's grandmother, and who I also had the extremely good fortune of accidentally meeting at a poetry reading at Sticky Fingerz, during the Arkansas Literary Festival that Lennon and I volunteered for last April.  When I told Randi about seeing the article, she said there was one false bit of information - that a former Central student profiled, Jeanie, had not been beaten up in front of teachers in the Central High parking lot, but that she had been bullied, and an administrator had threatened to expel her if she brought forth any more complaints about her treatment.  I hope whoever said that to her has since been fired.

The article also details the importance of teacher support for ALL students, establishing groups like the Gay Straight Alliance, which we had at my high school in northwest Arkansas when I was a senior in 2002, establishing policies against intolerable behavior - including my pet peeve - calling things "gay" - (ask any of my former students - my class was a no gay/retarded zone!), and participating in the Day of Silence, which students at my last school did do on their own.  The next one coming up is April 16, 2010.  I want to get one going at my current school through the Youth for Unity program!

Another element of the article was the suggestion of incorporating characters and literature into the high school canon of required reading.  I had the book Parrotfish by Ellen Wittlinger, about a transgender teen, on my classroom library shelf, and it was checked out multiple times, and the students who read it enjoyed it and recommended it to others without any raise of an eyebrow, (it was the administration and parts of the community that I saw as ultra-conservative).  It was also telling, to me, that a film like Milk came out (no pun this time) and met success in a city like Little Rock, that is often overlooked by the cosmopolitan crowd.

I hope that with the recent speech by Obama, as well as other advances in cultural dialogue, will encourage schools and students to catch up with the age of tolerance.  It would seem obvious that a society divided by prejudice and hate can not thrive, but then one hears the term "gay" slung around hallways as though it had no tangible affect on individuals, and it becomes clear that the collective empathy of American society still has a long way to go.

Even after teaching Elie Wiesel's Night and a holocaust unit, there was still a large disconnect in students between the lessons of history and their daily lives.  A unified front is necessary to quell the accepted intolerance practices that permeate modern speech and thought.  I'm happy to be a part of an organization like NEA that backs cultural acceptance of all people - old and young.

Sidra Stone and Snapping

I'm getting close to finishing The Shadow King by Sidra Stone, and I'm beginning to realize how much it's getting under my skin, in (I hope) a positive way.

This morning I had to get up early because the pastor of the church I have been attending was coming over to do introductions and discuss membership. I had asked my roommates to pick up their messes before morning arrived, because I don't like the idea of a guest walking into a dirty space. Especially a small dirty space, because that makes the gross ten times more prominent. And gross, by definition to me, includes plates with food stuck on them in the sink, magazines laying around, dog hair forming colonies on the couches and in corners, etc. So when I came down stairs this morning, I was immediately disgruntled when I found the sink full, copies of the Austin Chronicle on an arm of the love seat, the garbage can's contents literally spilling out onto the floor, and a few particles of dust strewn about.

My immediate reaction to such a state is to get resentful and upset - first, I don't like feeling as though keeping the apartment sanitary is my duty simply because I'm the only one who enjoys cleanliness a few degrees higher than everyone else present, and then I especially hate the idea of a guest walking in and judging me/us by a messy, dog-odor infused apartment. This merited me snapping at a roommate, words were exchanged, I got mad and stormed upstairs.

I started thinking about it, and realized that it's not just the guest being here that worried me about the apartment's state, because I always like it clean. And aside from preferring clean by character, I see the state of the apartment as a reflection of my own hygiene and level of responsibility, as though a messy apartment means that I am a lazy, negligent care taker who probably doesn't bathe. When I realized that I should not see the apartment as a reflection of my own ability to be a good, well-kept girl, I relaxed.

Then I heard the sound of running water and glass dishes clanking as someone scrubbed them in the kitchen, and I relaxed even more. An exterior mess is not indicative of an inner mess, nor does it demonstrate my inability to maintain feminine responsibilities, because cleaning is not solely feminine responsibility in a shared household. Perhaps next on my reading list should be a copy of The Second Shift.

Between Madness and Sanity

Today was free museum day in Austin, so I got to go and explore the Blanton Museum of Art for the easy price of a $3.00 parking pass. The featured artist is Francisco Matto, an exhibit tagged "The Modern and the Mythic." Being an avid fan of symbolism, I enjoyed his paintings and totem-pole type sculptures that incorporated a variety of symbols from all cultures across the hemispheres - including nautilus shells, Jesus fish, male and female symbols, etc. There were also very fauvist looking pieces with large areas of solid color and thick brush strokes that the placards described as the artists attempts to find the mystery in everyday objects - objects that seemed to include disjointed teacups, bulbous vases, and close-ups of cookie jars. Perhaps viewing them stirred the mysteries of my subconscious mind. I don't know yet.

It was interesting to then come home and find a large piece in the New York Times about Carl Jung's unpublished work, The Red Book. I've had Man and His Symbols close at hand since I found a hardcover full color copy at the Dickson Street Bookstore my senior year of high school while taking AP Psychology. On a side note - I loved that store and one of my favorite memories involves myself and one of my favorite friends - Mr. Moon - sitting in the cramped aisle of the poetry section, the floor to ceiling shelves creating a secret haven (or at least it felt that way) for us, reading Rilke from collections with yellow, worn pages while it rained and rained and rained outside. I have a handful of similar recollections, and they are sacred to me, as trite as they may seem. Days like that are, in my memory, strung together to create consecutive hours of book reading, eating ice cream in the gazebo of the mossed over Confederate cemetery, to marathon viewings of Ingbar Bergman films because Michael had a book that said every film buff should know his stuff, to waking up early in the morning to go sit on the patio at the Arsega's Block Street bakery drinking coffee and eating cinnamon rolls as big as my face.

the only scanned picture I have - I think I've posted it before, but oh well.
Off my tangent now - I can't wait to read The Red Book. Especially since I've begun reading Sidra Stone and started to try and process the influences I have collected the past 25 years that exert sway over my actions and decisions. I want to make sure that the decisions I make and the feelings I feel are my own, and often I have this uncomfortable feeling that what I feel has been given to me, and I am only acting out of a sense of duty or obligation. I plan on writing more about this when I finish a few more books I have on my list.

The universe just seemed to line up for me today in regards to sending Matto and Jung in my direction on the same afternoon. Sometimes I feel like a soda can shaken up. Not a graceful image, but fitting. I don't want to be afraid of explosions.

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."
Carl Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections

Change my mind, help me to try, I'm afraid I'm not satisfied. In this state I shall not remain - I don't want to go, but if I die young, fill my empty room with the sun.

Just Curious...

If anyone else enjoys reality/fiction plot parallels as much as I do:

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle alongside...

the Amanda Knox murder trial.

I keep reading about this trial obsessively because there's a large part of me that refuses to believe a twenty-something, pretty, normal by all standard accounts girl could be capable of something so heinous. If she is... (although I don't think she is), am I?

The Unlikely Disciple

When I find a book I really like, it doesn't take more than a maximum of five days to read it. If I'm struggling to enjoy a book then I usually don't get more than a quarter through, over the course of several months, before I abandon it forever. The Unlikely Disciple took me about a week to finish. I picked it up at Barnes & Noble after being intrigued by its premise as an undercover outsider's view of an evangelical university. Specifically, Jerry Falwell's evangelical university.

I fall into the spectrum, regretably, of people who are equally prejudiced against fundamentalists as some fundamentalists are against "liberals." I once read an article that said even the word "liberal" sounded like the biological name for a squirmy worm. Clearly there is animosity on both sides... anyway.

The author's task of humanizing a group of people that are often estranged socially as well as religiously and politically seemed like a good read. Having been a teacher in a small, white-flight bedroom community where I got asked at least once a week if and where I went to church, (I didn't), and working with students who wanted to insist that reading the bible, again, should count as outside reading (it did, but only for first-timers), as well as having factions of my family divided by the conservative/liberal split, I've had to do a lot of tongue biting and jaw clenching. The problem with myself, and a lot of people I'm sure, is that I/we tend to be drawn to reading and consuming material that only expounds upon things already believed. This must be old news to everyone else, as no one should be shocked by the fact that I'd be just as hard pressed to get some of my cousins to read Harry Potter as they would be to get me to crack open Left Behind, (although I hear there's a movie version coming out, which my curiosity may compel me to watch). Point being, reading this book was like baby stepping my way into getting the other side's perspective while still having it gently fed to me by someone of similar persuasion. And it was funny. Really funny. What could be banal about naked skateboarding? Nothing.

The author, Kevin Roose, spoke extensively about his concerns towards the possibility of conversion after being immersed in conservative, evangelical culture. Spoiler alert - he didn't convert, but he did expound upon his spiritual growth through incorporating prayer and fellowship into his life. This is one of the aspects of Judaism that drew me in so deeply that I even got up early on Saturdays to attend Torah study for a while... there IS something spiritually satisfying about making a place for God, (or what/whom ever) in your life daily. I have sort of let this knowledge slide over the past couple of years, and it's something I would like to rectify. Very few days go by that I don't remember Dr. Neralich hammering into his classes about the importance of meditation, and practice, but I never actually do it. Tomorrow, God and alarm-clock willing, I plan to try attending an Austin church, to try and bring back some of my wayward focus in life. Maybe the book is responsible for this, maybe the universe is, or maybe I've just exhausted my spiritual supply stores and feel compelled to replenish. Either way, great book. I'm glad it was serendipitously found while going to purchase something else... but then, (can't resist), isn't that a great metaphor for most things in life? (sorry)

I'd also like to note, just for posterity, how jealous I am that this guy researched and wrote a book at nineteen years old. At that age, I was still scribbling Bright Eyes lyrics into my journals every night. I have author envy, and it's dangerous. Although watching Texas Roller Derby tonight was a suitcase full of inspiration as far as character development is concerned... just a mental note.

Spring Fever

Something about May and Arkansas turning wet, lush, and green makes me want to read Henry Miller's novels or Anais Nin's journals. Charlotte gave me both Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn for my birthday several years ago, and I bought every book Anais Nin ever wrote, from her study of D.H. Lawrence to her last diary, in a used book store on Martha's Vineyard the summer after my freshman year in DC. I had to ship every one back to Arkansas in tightly packed, heavy boxes. Thank goodness for book post. I also have the diaries of Rilke I've been meaning to read, and while on Martha's Vineyard I poured over the drawings in the journal of Frida Kahlo, which wasn't mine and I've always wanted to order ever since I left and wrote "Alas Rotas" over all of the pages of my own diary from those months. I should just declare this the summer of journals and devote myself to devouring all of them.

Speaking of summer... it' can't possibly come fast enough.

Literary Love

I've spent the past 40 minutes browsing literary tattoos at Contrariwise. I want (almost) all of them. Maybe I can justify eating all the cookies in that it will give me more tattoo space. I couldn't choose a favorite, but this one, the infinite alphabet, seems to sum up everything:


I've already planned my next two tattoos. The first, on the side of my right wrist, will simply be "MD." Pure insider knowledge. The second will not, in fact, be "YEATS" even though that's technically what I said when I went to drop off the design, but it will be a Yeat's quote on my right hip. From "Who Will Go With Fergus Now," I want:

"All dishevelled wandering stars"

with a picture of the Amanda's Pennant (celithemas Amanda) dragonfly flanking the lettering. If only money were no object... although because it is, I save myself some skin for all the things I want permanently added in my 30's, 40's, etc. So, perhaps not a negative after all. I am still jealous of Stephanie's shoulder blade tattoo: "for life is not a paragraph / and death I think is no parenthesis." I gave that poem to my students earlier this year, and they were not nearly as receptive as I was when I first came across those lines in high school. They seem to find cummings "too confusing."
I remind myself to be patient.