On Saturday night my husband I went out to a Greek place we'd never been before. The only thing that was really different about this night was that we had had to leave Adeline at home, and we were celebrating my bday because my mom wanted to babysit, and normally the kid pretty much goes everywhere with us. So what did this mean? Ouzo of of course! We each had one eensy beensy ouzo with dinner. It felt like we were being really wild. (sigh)
And Jeff said something I was so glad to hear him say. He was talking about goals in life and how if you pursue something you want to do and you never forget that that is something you want to do , you wil slowly set yourselfup to be able to realize that goal. And even the most impossible thing, the most impossible idea that you wish you could do, you can accomplish, just by all the little decisions you make in your life every day. The problem is that so many people give up, and me too, settle for less, don't even start because we write off our ultimate as something that could never be accomplished. We settle for less from the start. Or we maybe don't think we are capable of doing really cool amazing things in our lives. Or maybe we are worried, or scared. And sometimes, we try, and one or two failures in, we give up. But he set forth this challenge for us, knowing that we both have desires for our lives which right now seem almost totally impossible, that we should not give them up, not settle for less but hold out and look for that door. Make the little decisions everyday that will facilitate what we might some day be able to do. It's when Jeff says things like this that I fall in love with him all over again. Because I knew this, but somehow I forgot it, or maybe it was put on the back burner.
It might be winning an olympic gold metal, it might be serving in an orphanage in eastern europe, it might be taking your time to travel around the world, it might be moving to a new country, it might be getting an advanced degree, or becoming a musician who can do music or compose for a living, it might be being a writer or a photographer, or an artist or thespian, those jobs that seem impossible to support yourself in. It might be starting a program to teach skills to young men, it might be starting a community service involvement, it might be an activist thing, or becoming a linguist or an anthropologist...anything, it might be anything. But we all too soon give up those dreams when others discourage us, or when we run up against a failure or two.
I know I was told from time immemorial that I couldn't be in theater because it didn't pay the rent. And so I never even pursued it. Sigh, I can't believe that I believed that.
For my part I learned this in my 20's. I was 21 a college drop out and about all I had really done was hold an office job in seattle and date alot of really good looking young men, none of whom weren't really even a quarter of the man I married. I thought by "partying" looking good, being independent, I was basically supposed to be completely satisfied in life. I was so far from that. I was miserable, directionless and carried a suitcase of garbage that said "loser" on the side of it.
When I started college I was scared to death someone would find out I wasn't really that smart. I worked incredibly hard, I was motivated primarily by fear in this time. Since I chose a foreign language major, I knew that if I graduated and couldn't actually speak spanish comfortably, I'd be lost. So I practiced as much as possible and did the study abroad. A number of things happened there that focused me with a fury. My motivation came at this time more from a feeling of proving myself. I was incredibly self absorbed, but all I wanted to do was travel more. I completed my certification in ESL with high marks in all of the linguistics classes taught by professors who said things to me like "Maybe you just aren't cut out for this subject" They taught me more how not to teach than anything else.
By the time I graduated, it was a done deal, mentally I had practicllay already done half the living overseas I wanted to do...I was as good as there. Did I come from a rich home? Hardly, I was not sitting on a trust fund, nor was anyone there to bail me out when I couldn't pay car insurance or rent. From there I was offered a job in South America and one in Russia. Because of the human rights issues where I was going in SA I chose Russia. And just resisting the temptation to give up when everything and more went wrong there, when it was below 0 for 6 months with snow on the ground, spoke no Russian (but learned quickly), had no real work to do and huge amounts of time on my hands but no friends nor easy means to communicate with home...I thought "ok here I am and boy does this suck!"
But I stayed & worked for 2 years, I have a few friends from that time and lots of memories. And whats more, I left my loser suitcase there. I realized at least one part of my goals.
From there, I travelled plenty more. When I was done, I felt satisfied. I moved on to the next goal. But I will still travel...
And that is where I am today. I have for me conspicuously left God out of all of this, but he was there the whole time...making my car run a little bit more on an empty tank, giving me endurance and a sense that I could do and excel at every little thing that I was told I couldn't do. Giving me the whole time what it took to push through every little step. He is particularly responsible for Adeline and Jeff. But those are other stories on other days.
The only reason I spend all this time committing this to blog is because I don't think I am special for this stuff, I think every person needs to go through this. I think every person in their life at some point is told they can't do what they know they can, I think every person in either big ways or little ways settles for something less because they don't know how to get what they really want...for fear. Whether it's a girl, a house, an award, a degree, a profession...The thing is, what is there to be afraid of? From where I am sitting right now, the only thing to be afraid of is that I will have gone through life too afraid to go after what I knew I could or should or wanted to do.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Money to the homeless...
I have pondered so much about the homeless (we have alot int he Northwest), but at some point I decided I would no longer give them money, unless I really felt the urge to do so. I used to give food. Now I ONLY give money to musicians if their music is good, and to them, I give generously. This whole post is in response to J. Star's post Streetcorner
This is why I decided ...
Article one: Outside a movie theater, there was a man panhandling. I asked my husband for the change from our drinks once we got inside so I could go give it to him, because I felt bad that here we were enjoying a movie, and he was skinny and needed food. He in turn suggested we give it as a tip to the folks who just sold us our pizza and beer, since they were working for their money. This seemed so obvious, so I did so and the guy behind the counter gave us a pointed thankyou. I know what it's like to have a counter job, the tips were my grocery money and made a real difference.
Article two: My brother has been in law enforcement and is the kindest, fairest, most non jerk of a cop I have ever met. He has told me that 80 to 90 percent of homeless are struggling with substance abuse issues. He recommended that I make a check out to the local rescue mission every month and call that my donation to the poor. There they get fed and sleep in a bed and can go back there as much as they want and if they are interested in getting their stuff together, they can find help from many church or county run places designed to place them in a job and help them off the street.
Article three. We have folks who stand at on ramps where there are control lights before getting on the onramp to the freeway and they have signs begging for cash. Down the road there is a Labor Ready where they can get day labor. Many of these people who hold the signs are clean, well dressed and why they are there seems really odd. In fact, handing out dollars felt to me always felt like I was paying them to alleviate my conscience. And in addition, I was positively reinforcing begging, because once one guy learned he could make a bundle at the onramps, a gazillion of these beggars popped up.
Article 4 There are people in this world who are just permanently on the grift. They live off of generosity of others and can often avoid real work or life this way. I guess I don't want to advocate this way of life. I think we need to take care of the poor, but through rescue mission or a soup kitchen makes much more sense than handing out dollars here and there.
Suley, we were in Chengdu. it wasn't like I was on some tour bus going all over China with a bunch of other tourists (eeegh perish the thought), we went to teach, which we did for 6 hours a day in grueling tropical heat--hovering around 95 to 100 with daily rainstorms so the humidity alwyas lingered around 90 to 100 percent as well. We didn't have a grand choice of what we saw, but honestly, it was all so good. It's difficult to travel China without knowing Chinese, really, unless you have a translator (at least I wouldn't be excited about the prospect of doing so, though I am certain it has been done). I know we tried one weekend to go it on our own, we pulled through, but it tended to be touch and go and best, and everyone in the group were seasoned travellers. We almost died in a taxi crash. None of those that would complain about not having ice in their coke or start to cry because of a hair in their food (though one of the older ladies almost passed out while another person in our group dragged her all over looking for the Tibetan restaurant where we had the most exotic dish of potatoes and carrots). We saw the terra cotta warriors, went to Suzhou's garden Master of Nets, saw many taoist temples and the worlds oldest irrigation project, and the Giant Panda Breeding Center.
Writing about this makes me think I should put up some of the pictures I took.
can you tell I am getting nostalgic...there is so much we saw and did, and the kids were the best.
ahhh and it was all free, in exchange for a little teaching. I was in heaven.
This is why I decided ...
Article one: Outside a movie theater, there was a man panhandling. I asked my husband for the change from our drinks once we got inside so I could go give it to him, because I felt bad that here we were enjoying a movie, and he was skinny and needed food. He in turn suggested we give it as a tip to the folks who just sold us our pizza and beer, since they were working for their money. This seemed so obvious, so I did so and the guy behind the counter gave us a pointed thankyou. I know what it's like to have a counter job, the tips were my grocery money and made a real difference.
Article two: My brother has been in law enforcement and is the kindest, fairest, most non jerk of a cop I have ever met. He has told me that 80 to 90 percent of homeless are struggling with substance abuse issues. He recommended that I make a check out to the local rescue mission every month and call that my donation to the poor. There they get fed and sleep in a bed and can go back there as much as they want and if they are interested in getting their stuff together, they can find help from many church or county run places designed to place them in a job and help them off the street.
Article three. We have folks who stand at on ramps where there are control lights before getting on the onramp to the freeway and they have signs begging for cash. Down the road there is a Labor Ready where they can get day labor. Many of these people who hold the signs are clean, well dressed and why they are there seems really odd. In fact, handing out dollars felt to me always felt like I was paying them to alleviate my conscience. And in addition, I was positively reinforcing begging, because once one guy learned he could make a bundle at the onramps, a gazillion of these beggars popped up.
Article 4 There are people in this world who are just permanently on the grift. They live off of generosity of others and can often avoid real work or life this way. I guess I don't want to advocate this way of life. I think we need to take care of the poor, but through rescue mission or a soup kitchen makes much more sense than handing out dollars here and there.
Suley, we were in Chengdu. it wasn't like I was on some tour bus going all over China with a bunch of other tourists (eeegh perish the thought), we went to teach, which we did for 6 hours a day in grueling tropical heat--hovering around 95 to 100 with daily rainstorms so the humidity alwyas lingered around 90 to 100 percent as well. We didn't have a grand choice of what we saw, but honestly, it was all so good. It's difficult to travel China without knowing Chinese, really, unless you have a translator (at least I wouldn't be excited about the prospect of doing so, though I am certain it has been done). I know we tried one weekend to go it on our own, we pulled through, but it tended to be touch and go and best, and everyone in the group were seasoned travellers. We almost died in a taxi crash. None of those that would complain about not having ice in their coke or start to cry because of a hair in their food (though one of the older ladies almost passed out while another person in our group dragged her all over looking for the Tibetan restaurant where we had the most exotic dish of potatoes and carrots). We saw the terra cotta warriors, went to Suzhou's garden Master of Nets, saw many taoist temples and the worlds oldest irrigation project, and the Giant Panda Breeding Center.
Writing about this makes me think I should put up some of the pictures I took.
can you tell I am getting nostalgic...there is so much we saw and did, and the kids were the best.
ahhh and it was all free, in exchange for a little teaching. I was in heaven.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
School and food
I never get up at this time voluntarily. It is 7 am and this is prime sleep time, but what I am making my list for the day and here I are...
This picture was taken in Xi'an China in the the summer of 2003. My friend Judy Barr (Bahh with her aussie accent) is in pink, Rocky (our interpreter) is making little antennas on my head and I am on the far left. We are at a very old monument --crazy old like 800 years or something like that--it's actually tilted, but thats hard to tell. We were working there and every weekend we all piled into taxi cabs and went to a gazillion places. The trip was intense...between the teaching and the going around on the weekends, I slept for 5 days straight when I got home. Ok maybe not 5, maybe only 4. The best thing about the whole experience was that it didn't cost me a dime... in fact I came home 1000 richer. Mmmm that's how to travel.
I put a link to allrecipes up. I have been going to this site for umm 3 years at least? If I am going to make something not using a recipe, which is most of the time--for instance chili or spaghetti sauce-- I may print up 3 or 4 recipes to reference them to see what the realm of possibilities are for ingredients. Then I usually substitute half of them with what I have in the house. I also use allrecipes when there is something I want to make but have no recipe for it at all, like risotto or something. I will go take about 3 recipes for it and use all three in some combo. The area it is most conspicuously lacking is ethnic food. You will not find any recipe for like Roti or the things that are less well known.
Then to organize this whole mess I use a gigantic binder or two with sections and I just pop the recipes in sheet protectors and organize them into what meat or other main ingred. they contain.
The school I work at, David Douglas, is considered a school heavily affected by poverty. It is about 70 percent free and reduced lunches and while the ESL population is about 20 percent, if you were to include the kids who are not receiving direct ESL instruction and have been exited from that program, the number would go up more to like 50 or 60 percent.
Whenever I consider these numbers, I always feel proud of my school. The teachers care alot, the kids know it. I have heard horror stories about what happens in other high schools...and I can genuinely say I know our school is different. There are those moments, there always will be with the poverty level as it is here. I know there are lots of kids at our school grappling with totally unacceptable home circumstances, and that comes to school with them, plays out as clear as day in the class and halls. But overall, the kids know that the adults care at our school, and there is a good atmosphere to that end there.
I took the effortless top ten down becuase I too was a pain in the rear kid as a high schooler. I thin it sounds negative, even if it is true, and I guess that's not what I want to put out there, because I like my place of work. Rather than being guilty of the things I put up there, I was more of the sullen/goofy contrary non confrontational and poor attitude kid who dressed really strange.
Monday, September 26, 2005
warm and partly cloudy with icy gusts and nasty rain
This is my weather forecast. Kind of all over the place, though not much sunshine.
These days I can relate with this kitty.
I so need some frivolity, dancing around in my underpants and general shirking of the dust piled up on my head. I believe having this child of mine has made me far too empathetic, to the point that the troubles of my close friends really make me sad. I need to knock that off! A friend, a bit younger than I, recently learned she was pregnant and her husband is on and off making her life kind of miserable. There's more to that story but telling it will only make me sad.
And into everyone's life a little rain must fall, but it's feeling like a lot of flash deluges.
So I will make a top ten list, but I don't know what to make it of so I am going to make a top ten list of top ten lists.
10. top ten personal or household items that will remain in my car for longer than a month
9. top ten words that Barry White can say and make sound sexy
8. top ten reasons why I love food
7. top ten reasons why my husband rocks the casbah
6. top ten songs to do the funky chicken to in your underpants
5. top ten ways to forget about your misery
4. top ten coolest figures in history, based on my limited knowledge.
3. top ten pieces of useless advice that I too often feel inclined to share
2. top ten best cities I think to live in, even though I never visited most of them
1. top ten best deep thoughts from jack handy and me
Should I go back to talking about the weather?
Sunday, September 25, 2005
A friend wrote
about his son. His son is 1 year old thereabouts. This friend had not only a completely absent dad, but a terrible dad. A dad who got him into pornography at a young age. How could he do that, when he was absent? Well he would show up occasionally I guess, or the son would seek him out always in this vain hope that somehow he could make a peace with his dad. The son is a pastor. This pastor did alot for me to make me understand a few things some years back, he is a good pastor. He has since dealth with the porn issue, but it plagued him for awhile I guess.
Getting to the point, this friend said that raising his son, tenderly, with love and patience has in some ways helped him to reconcile this gaping hole where his own father should have been. And he said that when you do for others what you wish someone had done for you, it heals you.
So. This said, I am looking forward to the healing that bringing up Addy will hopefully afford. (No my mom isn't anywhere near his dad) Just the whole idea of being able to somehow rise above it, see it from afar, not struggle, just have a perspective change that makes it so that I am not touched by it, is a welcome thing.
Sunday we dedicated the cherub. She was mystified.
thanks for the comments to the last post, it was pretty nice to get those.
Getting to the point, this friend said that raising his son, tenderly, with love and patience has in some ways helped him to reconcile this gaping hole where his own father should have been. And he said that when you do for others what you wish someone had done for you, it heals you.
So. This said, I am looking forward to the healing that bringing up Addy will hopefully afford. (No my mom isn't anywhere near his dad) Just the whole idea of being able to somehow rise above it, see it from afar, not struggle, just have a perspective change that makes it so that I am not touched by it, is a welcome thing.
Sunday we dedicated the cherub. She was mystified.
thanks for the comments to the last post, it was pretty nice to get those.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Alcoholism
Tonight i learned that a very close person to me is a very bad alcoholic. I think I always knew it, he has been a functional alcoholic for a long time.
The ironic thing is this guy has a ton of money, a loving, beautiful and patient wife, great kids, grandkids and everything to live for, and yet will probably kill himself with the bottle if he doesn't pull his brain out of it.
He is in alcohol related depression now, has numerous alcohol related health problems but I am not sure yet he realizes completely his disease, and I guess I wonder if he will die first or if he will pull himself out of it.
The ironic thing is this guy has a ton of money, a loving, beautiful and patient wife, great kids, grandkids and everything to live for, and yet will probably kill himself with the bottle if he doesn't pull his brain out of it.
He is in alcohol related depression now, has numerous alcohol related health problems but I am not sure yet he realizes completely his disease, and I guess I wonder if he will die first or if he will pull himself out of it.
Leningrad
Well NPR took down the Zvezda rock and rolla song, but they have Ya Tak Liublu Tebya on their website --it is the first song on the list, which is written in Cyrillic. It's an early song, one they played when i went to see them. However Sergey Shnurov, the band's lead is different then when I saw them and it was Igor Vdovin, who is the guy on the left in this pic.
Here is their website. People are calling them punk/ska, which they have that style in a way, but its mixed with a heavy dose of that awful Russian oompah sound which makes it very crazed edgy sound. Lots of horns and well you just should listen to it, apparently after poking around a bit, they are really popular in Russia these days.
more on the Wright quote
Where did I hear this? It stuck with me...was it a blogworld person?
A conversation between a son and father and son asks father why squirrels don't ever learn to not run in front of cars. Father explains that it's just not in their squirrel brains this concept of a ton of metal on wheels moving at 35-50 mph and this level of deadly force...they just have no concept of it, it's out of their realm. This argument was then using (am I remembering this correctly?) to make an attack on evolution I think...but I would use it to back up the quote from NT Wright below which I keep reading. Our little human brains, for all their capability of technological wonders is not probably able to really wrap itself around the love that God has for us. The level of sacrifice and his grace and that he is love. We have nothing to connect it to that is familiar, so it is pretty much impossible to fathom.
A conversation between a son and father and son asks father why squirrels don't ever learn to not run in front of cars. Father explains that it's just not in their squirrel brains this concept of a ton of metal on wheels moving at 35-50 mph and this level of deadly force...they just have no concept of it, it's out of their realm. This argument was then using (am I remembering this correctly?) to make an attack on evolution I think...but I would use it to back up the quote from NT Wright below which I keep reading. Our little human brains, for all their capability of technological wonders is not probably able to really wrap itself around the love that God has for us. The level of sacrifice and his grace and that he is love. We have nothing to connect it to that is familiar, so it is pretty much impossible to fathom.
happy moment
in 1998, May, June something like that I was in St Petes. The son of my colleague was showing me around. He has purple hair and was a musician. He walked fast, spoke little and smoked. At first he tried to pretend like he was married to a woman he had divorced months previous becuase he suspected of his mom sending me on a recon mission. When he realized it wasn't so, he started taking me around st petes to meet his nutty friends and listen to the music he liked. He had very good taste in music, he particularly liked the Spearhead I had been listening to and the Soul Coughing. His music I enjoyed very much.
One band he took me to see was called Leningrad. The show they put on was one of the best I had ever seen to this day. And I had already spent almost 2 years in this mostly frozen country, hanging around with mostly older ladies who were my coworkers. For the first time I saw young people doing the same stuff I spent my teenage years in Seattle doing... in Russia. It was like someone turned on a light there. I figured it would forever be one of those bands that exist in some little special place and time, no matter how good they were, no one would appreciate their talent.
Well I heard them on the radio today. Since they didn't announce who the band was, I wasn't sure, but I knew the sound, the horns, the lyrics, the voice...only one band did what they did (especially singing in Russian). I smiled really big to have a little Leningrad in Portland....
BTW this band is on the Everything Is Illuminated Soundtrack, a new movie based on a book I read awhile ago...they sing the song Zvezda Rok and Rolla and a couple other tunes. The movie has Elijah Woods in it.
One band he took me to see was called Leningrad. The show they put on was one of the best I had ever seen to this day. And I had already spent almost 2 years in this mostly frozen country, hanging around with mostly older ladies who were my coworkers. For the first time I saw young people doing the same stuff I spent my teenage years in Seattle doing... in Russia. It was like someone turned on a light there. I figured it would forever be one of those bands that exist in some little special place and time, no matter how good they were, no one would appreciate their talent.
Well I heard them on the radio today. Since they didn't announce who the band was, I wasn't sure, but I knew the sound, the horns, the lyrics, the voice...only one band did what they did (especially singing in Russian). I smiled really big to have a little Leningrad in Portland....
BTW this band is on the Everything Is Illuminated Soundtrack, a new movie based on a book I read awhile ago...they sing the song Zvezda Rok and Rolla and a couple other tunes. The movie has Elijah Woods in it.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Looking back: Places I have lived
I live in Portland, OR. In the past 15 years I have lived all over this town.
Once I lived in a townhouse near campus with a young Asian chef and another Asian fella, my buddy S., an architect, who decided to never speak to me again after he found out I wasn't going to date him. At one point they both moved out so I had to find 2 new roomies. I had one cousin of my sister in law and we found another. She was 19 and would be sweet as could be except for once a month (gee what could it have been?) when she would turn in to a raving bee-yotch. She was pretty, blonde, young and athletic. And one night she decided to threaten to kick my arse if I didn't give her her rent money back so she could go buy a pair of Sorels. Wait, it gets better...the COPS came because she was knocking stuff over in my room and pushing me around and D. got scared (not me of course ha! I have all that mud wrestling experience behind me so I was oh so confident READ: I almost peed my pants--not quite but I was a little wierded out) So the cops come and tell the crazed roommate to move out, which she did that night and needed us to give her money for gas to do so. She said so many nice things to us while she moved out.
In the same place, there was a man who lived next door. Every morning about 8 AM while he was in the shower he would verbally denigrate himself while he bathed. "YOU JUST CAN'T SEEM TO GET YOUR S@#T TOGETHER! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? YOU ARE FOOLISH AND WORTHLESS!!" and that would go on for about 15 min a day every am, at the top of his lungs. It was kind of a bummer way to wake up, if it wasn't so bizarre.
In another place downtown Portland I was apartment sitting for like 2 months (long story there) in this terribly sketchy place in el centro. Taking my trash out at 3 am there would be these punk rock dudes in the elevator with knives, playing with the sharp edges, me with my bag of kitty litter to take to the dumpster just annoyed as all heck that they were just so odd in countenance. Never really occurred to me that I coulda been in genuine danger. Hm.
In Corvallis doing my teaching stuff, I moved in practically without knowing anything about this one house because the loser advisor in the office told me literally 2 weeks beore class started that it was starting. In those 2 weeks I had to quit my job, sever portland responsibilities, pack everything I owned and move an hour and a half away. I had precisely 2 days to find an apartment, a cheap one at that...I was broke. This place was 210 a month, huge, private and very close to campus. Little did I know that all our utilities would be turned off because the roommates refused to pay, there were daily potsmoking sessions, and just before I left a new roommate had been told he could move in (without any consultation on my part because I was rarely home) and proceeded to sell big bags of green organic stuff from the house and empty out the bar into his bedroom, where they had a really great time at 230 am, and me right next to him have to get up at 5 am. Oh I was so glad to be there. I thought I had died and gone to hell.
It was not without its moments...me kicking people off my couch who were watching south park and and smoking dubbage because my parents were due to arrive, trying to explain to a fellow student teacher why there were beer bottles all over our living room whenever he stopped by to see me but I wasn't there..."I just sleep there...honestly, I am never there because it kinda sucks" (he mr. milk toasty church boy who probably could remember the last sin he committed) not that it is important, but going in renting there my thought was "Well as long as they don't just sit around and smoke pot all the time and they pay their bills, I don't care, I will never be home" Why didn't I move? With what time and what money? Besides, after one extremely stressful year, it was all over.
And this is to say nothing about the roommates who dragged out the crucifix with cowbones nailed to it and placed on our porch (it was art), and when my small voice registered some level of displeasure with this, I was painted as a big ugly fundamentalist kook
Nor to mention the crazy house where after we decided to have a swing dancing party, one roommate (a marine rotc guy) nailed his bedroom door shut with him inside because he was wierded out by all my russian and spanish speaking friends. And the other roommates took his side and I had to send my friends home. (??) Had no previous inkling they were racist, promptly moved out.
Yes I moved out of all these places in short order.
But there were cool places too...the large gorgeous old house with all the architects with the snooker table and the bands that played in the living room...the house with the deck with the mannequin on it where we could sit out and watch the people from the pub all stumble over the same buckle in the sidewalk.
Okay nostalgia moment about the bad old days is over, I will resume to our irregularly programmed schedule.
Once I lived in a townhouse near campus with a young Asian chef and another Asian fella, my buddy S., an architect, who decided to never speak to me again after he found out I wasn't going to date him. At one point they both moved out so I had to find 2 new roomies. I had one cousin of my sister in law and we found another. She was 19 and would be sweet as could be except for once a month (gee what could it have been?) when she would turn in to a raving bee-yotch. She was pretty, blonde, young and athletic. And one night she decided to threaten to kick my arse if I didn't give her her rent money back so she could go buy a pair of Sorels. Wait, it gets better...the COPS came because she was knocking stuff over in my room and pushing me around and D. got scared (not me of course ha! I have all that mud wrestling experience behind me so I was oh so confident READ: I almost peed my pants--not quite but I was a little wierded out) So the cops come and tell the crazed roommate to move out, which she did that night and needed us to give her money for gas to do so. She said so many nice things to us while she moved out.
In the same place, there was a man who lived next door. Every morning about 8 AM while he was in the shower he would verbally denigrate himself while he bathed. "YOU JUST CAN'T SEEM TO GET YOUR S@#T TOGETHER! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? YOU ARE FOOLISH AND WORTHLESS!!" and that would go on for about 15 min a day every am, at the top of his lungs. It was kind of a bummer way to wake up, if it wasn't so bizarre.
In another place downtown Portland I was apartment sitting for like 2 months (long story there) in this terribly sketchy place in el centro. Taking my trash out at 3 am there would be these punk rock dudes in the elevator with knives, playing with the sharp edges, me with my bag of kitty litter to take to the dumpster just annoyed as all heck that they were just so odd in countenance. Never really occurred to me that I coulda been in genuine danger. Hm.
In Corvallis doing my teaching stuff, I moved in practically without knowing anything about this one house because the loser advisor in the office told me literally 2 weeks beore class started that it was starting. In those 2 weeks I had to quit my job, sever portland responsibilities, pack everything I owned and move an hour and a half away. I had precisely 2 days to find an apartment, a cheap one at that...I was broke. This place was 210 a month, huge, private and very close to campus. Little did I know that all our utilities would be turned off because the roommates refused to pay, there were daily potsmoking sessions, and just before I left a new roommate had been told he could move in (without any consultation on my part because I was rarely home) and proceeded to sell big bags of green organic stuff from the house and empty out the bar into his bedroom, where they had a really great time at 230 am, and me right next to him have to get up at 5 am. Oh I was so glad to be there. I thought I had died and gone to hell.
It was not without its moments...me kicking people off my couch who were watching south park and and smoking dubbage because my parents were due to arrive, trying to explain to a fellow student teacher why there were beer bottles all over our living room whenever he stopped by to see me but I wasn't there..."I just sleep there...honestly, I am never there because it kinda sucks" (he mr. milk toasty church boy who probably could remember the last sin he committed) not that it is important, but going in renting there my thought was "Well as long as they don't just sit around and smoke pot all the time and they pay their bills, I don't care, I will never be home" Why didn't I move? With what time and what money? Besides, after one extremely stressful year, it was all over.
And this is to say nothing about the roommates who dragged out the crucifix with cowbones nailed to it and placed on our porch (it was art), and when my small voice registered some level of displeasure with this, I was painted as a big ugly fundamentalist kook
Nor to mention the crazy house where after we decided to have a swing dancing party, one roommate (a marine rotc guy) nailed his bedroom door shut with him inside because he was wierded out by all my russian and spanish speaking friends. And the other roommates took his side and I had to send my friends home. (??) Had no previous inkling they were racist, promptly moved out.
Yes I moved out of all these places in short order.
But there were cool places too...the large gorgeous old house with all the architects with the snooker table and the bands that played in the living room...the house with the deck with the mannequin on it where we could sit out and watch the people from the pub all stumble over the same buckle in the sidewalk.
Okay nostalgia moment about the bad old days is over, I will resume to our irregularly programmed schedule.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Bok
This is what I found on the link Suley left --it is a very good, brief and to the point flash presentation about well not just Sudan, but slavery. Clicl where it says about the lifestory of Bok.
Don't pass it by...
Don't pass it by...
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
re rentanegro: un poco mas...
So this thing from Damali Ayo isn't really a joke. She has written a book.
And people are saying things like this...
"the generation of artists to which ayo belongs has begun to address not only the commodification of black people but also the marketing of blackness. (Ayo specifically acknowledges comedians Godfrey Cambridge and Dick Gregory, who told Rent-A-Negro jokes during their 1960s performances.)"
Maybe I should send her publisher a bill for promoting her. I could use the money.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Better in spanish maybe
I Like You When You Are Silent
from "20 Love Poems and a Song of Despair" collection - 1924
| | I like you when you are silent because you are as though absent, and you hear me from afar, and my voice does not touch you. It seems as though your eyes had flown away from you and it seems as though a kiss had shut your mouth. As all things are full of my soul I like you when you are silent and you are as though distant. Let me speak to you as well with your silence I like you when you are still because you are as though absent. This is the poem I attempted to post on old ChezWhat? that came out all messed up. I still like it in spanish better I think, because for me there is more mystery to spanish than english. |
shameless
The first time I heard her heart beating it was at 10 weeks. It sounded like little explosions going off rhythmically. After that, her heart sounded like little galloping horses. I imagined a little herd of galloping appaloosas inside her heart.
Rent-a-negro
Rent-a-negro.com is from a woman here in Portland who is an artist. She was on the radio a while back. Her website offers her services to be a friend to anyone who wants to appear chic, open minded or altogether a little more *exotic* or something because they have a friend who is African American. She started the website because apparently there were enough instances where people wanted to touch her hair or her skin, or just the general dearth of black folk here in honkyville Portland OR made her a sort of a, uh what? I don't know.
So she is an artist and she sells her presence to people who want I suppose to seem more, err, diverse? It's an interesting website, a social commentary --i think unique to the Northwest here in a way. It has to be seen to be believed...some outtakes
What Satisfied Customers Say About rent-a-negro©:
"I would like to know more... [her] speaking and writing voices are a surprise... I expected someone not so calm and endearing." - M.P., County Employee
"She keeps my life interesting!" - H.L., Artist
"I took her to the country club for lunch...all heads turned!" - T.M., Executive Director
Additional Services
• "Help! I need a Black Opinion!" $75 per call (30 minute duration) or email (24 hr response time)
• Touch Her Hair: $25 each time
• Touch Her Skin: $35 each touch
• Compare Your Skin Tone to Hers: $50
• Tell her"you look just like..." another black person: $100
• Call her "sister" "sista" "girlfriend" or "girl": $150 each time
• Dance Lessons for the Rhythm-Challenged: $250 hour
• Challenging Racist Family Members: add $500 per person
• Racist Guests at Event: add $500 per event (per racist)
• "Will You Tell Them I'm Not a Racist?": $1500 per vouch
Ok blogger world...send me your feedback on this I wanna make some buzz on this
So she is an artist and she sells her presence to people who want I suppose to seem more, err, diverse? It's an interesting website, a social commentary --i think unique to the Northwest here in a way. It has to be seen to be believed...some outtakes
What Satisfied Customers Say About rent-a-negro©:
"I would like to know more... [her] speaking and writing voices are a surprise... I expected someone not so calm and endearing." - M.P., County Employee
"She keeps my life interesting!" - H.L., Artist
"I took her to the country club for lunch...all heads turned!" - T.M., Executive Director
Additional Services
• "Help! I need a Black Opinion!" $75 per call (30 minute duration) or email (24 hr response time)
• Touch Her Hair: $25 each time
• Touch Her Skin: $35 each touch
• Compare Your Skin Tone to Hers: $50
• Tell her"you look just like..." another black person: $100
• Call her "sister" "sista" "girlfriend" or "girl": $150 each time
• Dance Lessons for the Rhythm-Challenged: $250 hour
• Challenging Racist Family Members: add $500 per person
• Racist Guests at Event: add $500 per event (per racist)
• "Will You Tell Them I'm Not a Racist?": $1500 per vouch
Ok blogger world...send me your feedback on this I wanna make some buzz on this
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Life and Death
This is a heavy subject I know.
I am at home. I turn on NPR and they are interviewing people who had to stay at the convention center. People are telling stories of carpets slick with sewage, stampedes at night, sick, dead and dying people among the living folk, attacks on others, women howling in the foyer from giving birth in this place **. That's a first. I turned it off. I couldn't listen anymore.
Later that night walking, reading a magazine from June of last year. There is a picture of Iraqi's howling and wailing next to a very small plywood coffin. Turn the page quickly, look back, yes it's what I thought it was. keep going.
Stories of meth addict moms, images of people being killed, small babies googling in grocery carts, little children analyzing small objects, BTK man...I never really saw these things before. I never really cared I guess. Now they hit me like a ton of bricks. So hard in fact, I can't even handle it. A thought will flash through my mind to go save these people...right. Shake my finger at them? Swoop down with my cape and save the kid with the crack mom and dad? Appear in the nick of time? What am I thinking?
Then again the radio. A story about a 14 year old girl who was raped and killed, telling a story from heaven. At this point it occurs to me. Death and life go together like peanut butter and jelly.
Adeline and I go visit elderly people. We listen to them, maybe bring a few tomatoes from the garden, whatever. We just started up from not doing it since last February. In the Paris Hilton world there is nothing *hot* about it. But it makes them happy. And it is so easy to do. And when there is nothing to say, she sits there and is cute and they enjoy playing with her.
Where am I going with all these random things. I can't say entirely, but I am realising the obvious: death is a part of life. Becoming a mom has changed the way I see human life considerably. I can't go into detail except that what was mundane violence or tragedy hurts much more now. I feel like such a pansy. But especially where children are concerned, I am especially bothered. I guess I don't feel too bad to admit this, because I have spoken to friends and they report the same thing. It's just too much to bear when I see a child in a dangerous situation, my instinct is strong--I want to take them out of danger. I guess those are mom hormones, huh?
When I go visit old people, I want everyone to care about them. I want people to see them how I see them, with all the life they lived and all the intelligence they have accumulated. They are so vulnerable now. Forgotten, left. M.R. a lady I visit, she just tries to be happy with whatever God gives her, no matter how many hours and days she sits alone in her little room. B.T., she lived in Africa most her life, she died of tuberculosis before I could go visit her, just this morning in fact. So I will go see B. on Wednesday...I guess I just feel honored in a way to be able to do something these people appreciate.
I am at home. I turn on NPR and they are interviewing people who had to stay at the convention center. People are telling stories of carpets slick with sewage, stampedes at night, sick, dead and dying people among the living folk, attacks on others, women howling in the foyer from giving birth in this place *
Later that night walking, reading a magazine from June of last year. There is a picture of Iraqi's howling and wailing next to a very small plywood coffin. Turn the page quickly, look back, yes it's what I thought it was. keep going.
Stories of meth addict moms, images of people being killed, small babies googling in grocery carts, little children analyzing small objects, BTK man...I never really saw these things before. I never really cared I guess. Now they hit me like a ton of bricks. So hard in fact, I can't even handle it. A thought will flash through my mind to go save these people...right. Shake my finger at them? Swoop down with my cape and save the kid with the crack mom and dad? Appear in the nick of time? What am I thinking?
Then again the radio. A story about a 14 year old girl who was raped and killed, telling a story from heaven. At this point it occurs to me. Death and life go together like peanut butter and jelly.
Adeline and I go visit elderly people. We listen to them, maybe bring a few tomatoes from the garden, whatever. We just started up from not doing it since last February. In the Paris Hilton world there is nothing *hot* about it. But it makes them happy. And it is so easy to do. And when there is nothing to say, she sits there and is cute and they enjoy playing with her.
Where am I going with all these random things. I can't say entirely, but I am realising the obvious: death is a part of life. Becoming a mom has changed the way I see human life considerably. I can't go into detail except that what was mundane violence or tragedy hurts much more now. I feel like such a pansy. But especially where children are concerned, I am especially bothered. I guess I don't feel too bad to admit this, because I have spoken to friends and they report the same thing. It's just too much to bear when I see a child in a dangerous situation, my instinct is strong--I want to take them out of danger. I guess those are mom hormones, huh?
When I go visit old people, I want everyone to care about them. I want people to see them how I see them, with all the life they lived and all the intelligence they have accumulated. They are so vulnerable now. Forgotten, left. M.R. a lady I visit, she just tries to be happy with whatever God gives her, no matter how many hours and days she sits alone in her little room. B.T., she lived in Africa most her life, she died of tuberculosis before I could go visit her, just this morning in fact. So I will go see B. on Wednesday...I guess I just feel honored in a way to be able to do something these people appreciate.
Check out da new me!
1. How many cds, tapes, records, eight tracks, reel-to-reels, etc. do you own?
I own about 140 cassettes that I never listen to, and 240 cd's, though some of those are mp3 cd's (about 10 of them) I Used to own about 80 albums but left them in the care of someone, forgot who exactly had them and never got them back. So does size matter? Have never owned an 8 track.
2. Last musical recording you bought (itunes count, too).
Pink Martini "Hang on Little Tomato", Bebel Gilberto "Bebel Gilberto" & John Coltrane "Lush Life" all purchased at the same time.
3. Last album I listened to from beginning to end.
Pink Martini "Hang on Little Tomato"
4. Six songs that mean a lot to me. Not album oriented? This one's for you.
South Central Rain by REM--Back before they turned into what they are now, REM made great music for that day. This is kinda a dirge of my youth. Jangly, a little sad, perhaps a little whiny, but I didn't think so at the time I liked it. I got Michael Stipe's autograph in 86 outside of the Paramount Theater for the Fables of the Reconstruction tour, that's a fun little memory. I wore the tshirt to threadbare nothingness.
Anything by Roger Miller or Jonathon Richman--I know I am stretching the question here a little bit, but how can you say Do Wacka Do is better than You can't talk to the Dude? This is music that occupies a special spot in life, no not a spot where they wear white coats either. A place of genuinely not caring too much.
Sorry I am adding in this as a 7th--Ramones (Sheena is a Punk & Now I wanna be your dog) & The Clash (London Calling and Combat Rock). Guilty Listening of a 9th grader back in what was it--'84? My brother's influence. I can make no list that doesn't acknowledge that if it wasn't for these bands I might still be listening to Hall and Oates. eek!
The Pixies (and the Breeders)--Impossible to choose 1 song. They are also that kinda music that occupies a place in the past. I would say Trompe Le Monde - Subbacultcha, d=rt... From Surfer Rosa-- River Euphrates, Broken Face, Vamos--anything, it's all driving to the beach offa work for the weekend music.
Cubanismo & Jose Arroyo -- from my salsa days, or rather salsa nights.
Baden Powell--Okay he has a vast music selection, but anyone who knows his stuff knows he has pretty much created his own style of playing the guitar. This musician exists always in Santa Maria Costa Rica on a rainy thundery night on the back covered porch of a hostel where the walls didn't go all the way to the ceiling and tastes like rum and cokes with no ice.
Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto -- The girl from Ipanema, heard while working at a popular coffee chain that will remain nameless but caused me to wake up more than once saying "double tall nonfat latte! I got it!!" This song single handedly radically altered my whole idea of music really, I went from being a listener of alternative wall of sound nascent mudhoney, janes addiction and velvet underground & subsequently stereolab and pizzicato 5 stuff to being all about caetano and moreno veloso, bebel gilberto, and a whole mess of other brazilian artists that pretty much all I want to listen to now, with a little from other parts of the world to0...
5. Songs or Albums I would consider my "guilty pleasure." These are the recordings you love but are afraid to admit it...
Charlie Daniels "Devil went down to Georgia"
Do I confess that I joke with Jeff that our song is "Fooled around and Fell in Love"?
Detroit Rock City by KISS
Van Halen "You really Got Me" & all that album
Shakira Donde Estan los Ladrones and Pies Descalzos
Thalia Piel Morena and Amor a la Mexicana
Herbaliser Freestylin
Michael Jackson--Billie Jean
I have no shame, if it's a good little jam, why not?
6. Who are the bloggers you are passing this on to?
Umm well I do not have a long list of fellow bloggers, I am kinda an antisocial newbie. Natalie?
I own about 140 cassettes that I never listen to, and 240 cd's, though some of those are mp3 cd's (about 10 of them) I Used to own about 80 albums but left them in the care of someone, forgot who exactly had them and never got them back. So does size matter? Have never owned an 8 track.
2. Last musical recording you bought (itunes count, too).
Pink Martini "Hang on Little Tomato", Bebel Gilberto "Bebel Gilberto" & John Coltrane "Lush Life" all purchased at the same time.
3. Last album I listened to from beginning to end.
Pink Martini "Hang on Little Tomato"
4. Six songs that mean a lot to me. Not album oriented? This one's for you.
South Central Rain by REM--Back before they turned into what they are now, REM made great music for that day. This is kinda a dirge of my youth. Jangly, a little sad, perhaps a little whiny, but I didn't think so at the time I liked it. I got Michael Stipe's autograph in 86 outside of the Paramount Theater for the Fables of the Reconstruction tour, that's a fun little memory. I wore the tshirt to threadbare nothingness.
Anything by Roger Miller or Jonathon Richman--I know I am stretching the question here a little bit, but how can you say Do Wacka Do is better than You can't talk to the Dude? This is music that occupies a special spot in life, no not a spot where they wear white coats either. A place of genuinely not caring too much.
Sorry I am adding in this as a 7th--Ramones (Sheena is a Punk & Now I wanna be your dog) & The Clash (London Calling and Combat Rock). Guilty Listening of a 9th grader back in what was it--'84? My brother's influence. I can make no list that doesn't acknowledge that if it wasn't for these bands I might still be listening to Hall and Oates. eek!
The Pixies (and the Breeders)--Impossible to choose 1 song. They are also that kinda music that occupies a place in the past. I would say Trompe Le Monde - Subbacultcha, d=rt... From Surfer Rosa-- River Euphrates, Broken Face, Vamos--anything, it's all driving to the beach offa work for the weekend music.
Cubanismo & Jose Arroyo -- from my salsa days, or rather salsa nights.
Baden Powell--Okay he has a vast music selection, but anyone who knows his stuff knows he has pretty much created his own style of playing the guitar. This musician exists always in Santa Maria Costa Rica on a rainy thundery night on the back covered porch of a hostel where the walls didn't go all the way to the ceiling and tastes like rum and cokes with no ice.
Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto -- The girl from Ipanema, heard while working at a popular coffee chain that will remain nameless but caused me to wake up more than once saying "double tall nonfat latte! I got it!!" This song single handedly radically altered my whole idea of music really, I went from being a listener of alternative wall of sound nascent mudhoney, janes addiction and velvet underground & subsequently stereolab and pizzicato 5 stuff to being all about caetano and moreno veloso, bebel gilberto, and a whole mess of other brazilian artists that pretty much all I want to listen to now, with a little from other parts of the world to0...
5. Songs or Albums I would consider my "guilty pleasure." These are the recordings you love but are afraid to admit it...
Charlie Daniels "Devil went down to Georgia"
Do I confess that I joke with Jeff that our song is "Fooled around and Fell in Love"?
Detroit Rock City by KISS
Van Halen "You really Got Me" & all that album
Shakira Donde Estan los Ladrones and Pies Descalzos
Thalia Piel Morena and Amor a la Mexicana
Herbaliser Freestylin
Michael Jackson--Billie Jean
I have no shame, if it's a good little jam, why not?
6. Who are the bloggers you are passing this on to?
Umm well I do not have a long list of fellow bloggers, I am kinda an antisocial newbie. Natalie?
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