The Challenge:
Write a "slice of life" blog entry every day for the month of March.
Why?:
Why not?
Tomorrow it begins.
That is all.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Lessons from Oz
Getting it write.
not getting it right
not getting it easy.
getting a hat
but not a real hat
just a fake one
for now
until the real one comes
I bought it on ebay.
not getting it right
not getting it easy.
getting a hat
but not a real hat
just a fake one
for now
until the real one comes
I bought it on ebay.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
My Cell by the Sea.
Have you ever been trapped under a wave?
You're standing in the foam, trying to transcend, because oceans are sublime. You listen to the sea gulls, hear the waves grating their heavy weight on the sand, and you close your eyes. The feeling of the wild ocean wind is different, isn't it? It's not like the old woman wind that sweeps your face with a wiry broom in the winter, or the shy wind that comes sometimes at night on the hills. It's wet, and wild, and sad. You're standing there, letting the ocean lull you into subliminality, and then the salty wall hits your head, and you're a klutz already, so you tumble into the wave, trying:
(1) not to breath,
(2) to keep your eyes closed because you are wearing contacts,
(3) to sense the direction that is up, and
(4) to get your head up enough to no longer be under water,
and those are too many items to perform all at once, so you fail a couple of times until suddenly you are standing, gasping, drenched, and surprised by what just happened and by your relative okay-ness. Every inhalation is divine, every exhalation is a prayer. You are safe. You look around. You see the ocean, as it was, before the mad scramble under water, and it is the same. You are different. You see it as you never could have, not before. Now, you know the power of the ocean a little better. You feel the danger seething from its ripples, and that is when you transcend.
You feel it vibrate across your skin, down into the tips of your hairs, and it is electric. Perhaps you are bound by the laws of the universe to remain in the Earth, but perhaps you are part of the greater universe in a more intrinsic way, and perhaps your geographical location seems suddenly to be without meaning. Perhaps time becomes as tangible as it is constant.
Meanings become clear. Paths become straight. The proximity of Life to Danger is a sweet contrast, and you begin to wonder:
What more could there possibly be?
You're standing in the foam, trying to transcend, because oceans are sublime. You listen to the sea gulls, hear the waves grating their heavy weight on the sand, and you close your eyes. The feeling of the wild ocean wind is different, isn't it? It's not like the old woman wind that sweeps your face with a wiry broom in the winter, or the shy wind that comes sometimes at night on the hills. It's wet, and wild, and sad. You're standing there, letting the ocean lull you into subliminality, and then the salty wall hits your head, and you're a klutz already, so you tumble into the wave, trying:
(1) not to breath,
(2) to keep your eyes closed because you are wearing contacts,
(3) to sense the direction that is up, and
(4) to get your head up enough to no longer be under water,
and those are too many items to perform all at once, so you fail a couple of times until suddenly you are standing, gasping, drenched, and surprised by what just happened and by your relative okay-ness. Every inhalation is divine, every exhalation is a prayer. You are safe. You look around. You see the ocean, as it was, before the mad scramble under water, and it is the same. You are different. You see it as you never could have, not before. Now, you know the power of the ocean a little better. You feel the danger seething from its ripples, and that is when you transcend.
You feel it vibrate across your skin, down into the tips of your hairs, and it is electric. Perhaps you are bound by the laws of the universe to remain in the Earth, but perhaps you are part of the greater universe in a more intrinsic way, and perhaps your geographical location seems suddenly to be without meaning. Perhaps time becomes as tangible as it is constant.
Meanings become clear. Paths become straight. The proximity of Life to Danger is a sweet contrast, and you begin to wonder:
What more could there possibly be?
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Letter to Billy Collins
Dear Billy Collins,
You are pretty cool. Remember that one time, back in 2001-2003, when you were the United States Poet Laureate? I must say, you've written some pretty fine poems in your day. I'm usually the kind of girl who professes that "No! Lyricists are the Walt Whitmans of now! People who call themselves poets are so pretentious!" But you, for some reason, were an exception. You were better than the inaccessible, nebulous, unengaging "poets" of now. How could you disappoint me so wholly?
I looked forward to your poetry reading for two whole weeks! I was ecstatic with anticipation. My friends and I drove an hour and a half from our city in order just to hear you speak! A whole hour and then another half of an hour, and then all that to go back later, too, and that was our entire purpose, friend! The only reason for that long, mid-week trip into nowhere! YOU!
So happy were we, as we burst through the door into the building that looked like a rubrics cube, or a box, depending on who you are when you look at it, only to be slapped in the face by a sign that said:
"Billy Collins poetry reading: CANCELED."
Canceled? Canceled! CANCELED?!
Good grief! You couldn't send out a memo or something about this whole cancellation business?
Next time, please consider others, and either refrain from promising your presence when it obviously is not going to occur, or just show up and read your crummy poems. That's all we wanted, anyway.
Your ex-friend,
Adelheid
You are pretty cool. Remember that one time, back in 2001-2003, when you were the United States Poet Laureate? I must say, you've written some pretty fine poems in your day. I'm usually the kind of girl who professes that "No! Lyricists are the Walt Whitmans of now! People who call themselves poets are so pretentious!" But you, for some reason, were an exception. You were better than the inaccessible, nebulous, unengaging "poets" of now. How could you disappoint me so wholly?
I looked forward to your poetry reading for two whole weeks! I was ecstatic with anticipation. My friends and I drove an hour and a half from our city in order just to hear you speak! A whole hour and then another half of an hour, and then all that to go back later, too, and that was our entire purpose, friend! The only reason for that long, mid-week trip into nowhere! YOU!
So happy were we, as we burst through the door into the building that looked like a rubrics cube, or a box, depending on who you are when you look at it, only to be slapped in the face by a sign that said:
"Billy Collins poetry reading: CANCELED."
Canceled? Canceled! CANCELED?!
Good grief! You couldn't send out a memo or something about this whole cancellation business?
Next time, please consider others, and either refrain from promising your presence when it obviously is not going to occur, or just show up and read your crummy poems. That's all we wanted, anyway.
Your ex-friend,
Adelheid
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
10 Things I Will Not Miss When I Am No Longer a Student
- Phenomenal academic power . . . itty, bitty living space.
- 80 hour weeks, split 17 different ways.
- Reading thousands of pages per week. At gunpoint.
- Oh, you want to go somewhere? Forget about it. You can't afford a car, fool!
- Feeling guilty for not doing homework after 11pm.
- Forgetting to eat.
- Ten different teachers with ten slightly different policies about class.
- "You must write an academic paper about something to do with this class. You also must feel passionately about it. If you do not feel passionately about your thesis, which must be completely unique and your own (despite the fact that yes, Shakespeare has been studied for centuries, and no, there is no possible way you can look at Shakespeare in a unique, passionate way, but I do require that, so if you can't, you fail, and yes, you absolutely can't, because like I said, it has literally (HA!) all been done before), then you must allow yourself to be publicly ridiculed at least eight times, preferably at the beginning of class, so we can make it last all two hours."
- Your body is not your own. You have surrendered it to academia. You may think you can eat well and exercise all semester long, but the truth is, there is no freaking way you can manage that. So get used to the fluff, peach. And the gross feeling of being habitually sedentary, because that is not changing. No, ma'am.
- WHAT DOES "MLA" EVEN STAND FOR?!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
How to Get Ready for the Day in 17 Minutes or Less
For those of us who hate waking up, getting ready for the day in the morning can be a real chore. Personally, I hate it, especially if it happens before 8AM.
Getting enough sleep can be very difficult for busy people. I value sleep above personal appearance, though not hygiene. You're about to see how:
The Night Before
Step 1: Hygiene. Shower at night, because showering in the morning takes massively more time (I am so slow in the morning. Every motion is a dramatic, slow dream sequence, except that I'm awake, not sleeping still), and it also makes you wet/cold first thing in the morning. Ick. Also, this way you don't get your bed all gross with the day's sweat. And! This way your hair will dry over night, and not only will you save time by skipping the hair dryer, you also will cause less damage to your hair. (Split ends are ugly. They also lower my self esteem).
Also, apply deodorant at night. This way, it has time to clog your armpit-pores and keep them from getting smelly. I'm serious, that's how it works!
Step 2: Decide what to wear the night before. It takes longer to make simple decisions in the morning, so deciding the night before means you take a lower absolute value of time deciding altogether, and no time whatsoever in the morning.
Step 3: Pack your backpack, including lunch, before going to bed. But not dairy products. They belong in the refrigerator. I'm very serious, that's so gross.
Step 4: Set alarm. What a pity not to wake up in the morning, now that you don't have to wake up until much later!
The Morning
Step 5: Wake up when your alarm goes off. Don't set it for fifteen minutes, or half an hour, or especially an hour or two hours before you actually intend to wake up (Can you believe that people do that?!). Why would you do that? To feel like you slept in? Don't be ridiculous! You just robbed yourself of that much more sleep you could have enjoyed! Interrupted sleep is more tiring than being awake, so just grow up and convince yourself that when your alarm goes off, you wake up. It's as simple as that. Just a little adult-like resolve, and BAM. More sleep.
Step 6: Hygiene. The most important thing to do before leaving in the morning is to brush your teeth, so do that first. Don't wait until after you've eaten breakfast, because then you might forget. Also, your mouth is disgusting, why would you want to swallow that? Wash your face and style your hair, and you are hygienically prepared to step out that door.
Step 7: Put on the clothes you set out. Don't change your mind about what you're wearing, just wear it, okay?
Step 8: Put dairy products from fridge for lunch into bag.
Step 9: If your 17 minutes are up, leave.
Step 10: If they aren't, eat something.
Step 11: Then leave already! You're done!
Step 12: Seriously, what are you doing still in your apartment? There is not reason to stay here! Out there is where the world is, go meet it!
Step 13: Carpe diem!
Step 14: I can't have 13 steps to get ready, that's just wrong.
That is all.
Getting enough sleep can be very difficult for busy people. I value sleep above personal appearance, though not hygiene. You're about to see how:
The Night Before
Step 1: Hygiene. Shower at night, because showering in the morning takes massively more time (I am so slow in the morning. Every motion is a dramatic, slow dream sequence, except that I'm awake, not sleeping still), and it also makes you wet/cold first thing in the morning. Ick. Also, this way you don't get your bed all gross with the day's sweat. And! This way your hair will dry over night, and not only will you save time by skipping the hair dryer, you also will cause less damage to your hair. (Split ends are ugly. They also lower my self esteem).
Also, apply deodorant at night. This way, it has time to clog your armpit-pores and keep them from getting smelly. I'm serious, that's how it works!
Step 2: Decide what to wear the night before. It takes longer to make simple decisions in the morning, so deciding the night before means you take a lower absolute value of time deciding altogether, and no time whatsoever in the morning.
Step 3: Pack your backpack, including lunch, before going to bed. But not dairy products. They belong in the refrigerator. I'm very serious, that's so gross.
Step 4: Set alarm. What a pity not to wake up in the morning, now that you don't have to wake up until much later!
The Morning
Step 5: Wake up when your alarm goes off. Don't set it for fifteen minutes, or half an hour, or especially an hour or two hours before you actually intend to wake up (Can you believe that people do that?!). Why would you do that? To feel like you slept in? Don't be ridiculous! You just robbed yourself of that much more sleep you could have enjoyed! Interrupted sleep is more tiring than being awake, so just grow up and convince yourself that when your alarm goes off, you wake up. It's as simple as that. Just a little adult-like resolve, and BAM. More sleep.
Step 6: Hygiene. The most important thing to do before leaving in the morning is to brush your teeth, so do that first. Don't wait until after you've eaten breakfast, because then you might forget. Also, your mouth is disgusting, why would you want to swallow that? Wash your face and style your hair, and you are hygienically prepared to step out that door.
Step 7: Put on the clothes you set out. Don't change your mind about what you're wearing, just wear it, okay?
Step 8: Put dairy products from fridge for lunch into bag.
Step 9: If your 17 minutes are up, leave.
Step 10: If they aren't, eat something.
Step 11: Then leave already! You're done!
Step 12: Seriously, what are you doing still in your apartment? There is not reason to stay here! Out there is where the world is, go meet it!
Step 13: Carpe diem!
Step 14: I can't have 13 steps to get ready, that's just wrong.
That is all.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
It's Picnik Time!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Why Does My Life Feel Like "Waiting for Godot?"
What am I waiting for?
I have this feeling of waiting. Do you feel it? Waiting for life to finally happen. Am I not alive? Why do I feel like I am waiting?
I had a dream.
I dreamed that I was in between two brick walls, parallel, on either side of me, and very close together. There was barely enough room to walk through without brushing both shoulders on either wall. I was boxing a woman, and the woman was me. We were backing down the alley made by the walls, and her hands were bleeding from the blows she gave me, because they were scraping the walls. I asked her if we should stop, because of the blood, and she said, "No, we must continue!" and threw another punch. I wanted to stop: She was bleeding; I was tired.
When the walls stopped, I turned. The sparing was finished. We were standing in a pool of water that opened into a wide tunnel. There were two lions: tall, golden, and they had human eyes. The woman, myself, turned to me, and said with serenity in her face and voice, "you know what to do," as she turned her palms out and walked toward the lions, and into the tunnel.
I knew that I needed to be brave, because she had been brave. The lions would sense my fear, fear they could not detect when she had passed, because she had no fear. I knew that I needed to get past them and into the tunnel, so I turned my palms out and tried to be serene. I walked toward the lions, and when I was six feet away from the closest one, he began to growl at me. I backed away. How could I pass? I was afraid.
1. I already know what to do.
2. I must acquire serenity.
3. Fear is the opposite of faith.
What a shame it would be, to always be standing on the cusp of something so epic, which you would enter, were you as you wish you would be, but never do, because of anxiety, doubt, fear. Let tragedy befall those who will, but not me. I cannot abide the taste of it.
I have this feeling of waiting. Do you feel it? Waiting for life to finally happen. Am I not alive? Why do I feel like I am waiting?
I had a dream.
I dreamed that I was in between two brick walls, parallel, on either side of me, and very close together. There was barely enough room to walk through without brushing both shoulders on either wall. I was boxing a woman, and the woman was me. We were backing down the alley made by the walls, and her hands were bleeding from the blows she gave me, because they were scraping the walls. I asked her if we should stop, because of the blood, and she said, "No, we must continue!" and threw another punch. I wanted to stop: She was bleeding; I was tired.
When the walls stopped, I turned. The sparing was finished. We were standing in a pool of water that opened into a wide tunnel. There were two lions: tall, golden, and they had human eyes. The woman, myself, turned to me, and said with serenity in her face and voice, "you know what to do," as she turned her palms out and walked toward the lions, and into the tunnel.
I knew that I needed to be brave, because she had been brave. The lions would sense my fear, fear they could not detect when she had passed, because she had no fear. I knew that I needed to get past them and into the tunnel, so I turned my palms out and tried to be serene. I walked toward the lions, and when I was six feet away from the closest one, he began to growl at me. I backed away. How could I pass? I was afraid.
1. I already know what to do.
2. I must acquire serenity.
3. Fear is the opposite of faith.
What a shame it would be, to always be standing on the cusp of something so epic, which you would enter, were you as you wish you would be, but never do, because of anxiety, doubt, fear. Let tragedy befall those who will, but not me. I cannot abide the taste of it.
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