- protest for something I feel passionate about (going to DC on Sunday, actually!) - make a kite and fly it - see the play The Cherry Orchard by Chekhov - read the Brother's Karamazov by Dostoevsky - write a short story - go to Greece - go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter - find a hobbit hole - complete an ethnography - eat an entire meal of home-grown food - ride my bike across at least one state (the 1979 Schwinn Le Tour pictured above) - hike the AT all at once - consistently write letters to my friends - do an oral history project of my family and spend at least one week with every member of the family - say something someone will never forget - complete a community art project that inspires thought
I was looking through some old family heirlooms and I stumbled across an illustrated book of poetry from 1909 called "Two Lovers." It first belonged to my great, great grandma then my great grandma Julia or Great Mommer, as we used to call her. The book was given to her as a wedding present and then to my parents for the same occasion. In Great Mommer's inscription to my parents she writes,
"Howard Chandler Christy was a famous illustrator and he painted only beautiful people and they all looked alike."
it seems that the last few months have been an extended mental block. either that or by the time i get back to my computer all i want to do is glaze my eyes, listen to music, and let my mind wander. during these times i visit places of memory, places that have become a bit like grainy rolls of film. it seems that, after every use, some of the pixels fade away leave the pictures a little more out of focus.
the blurred pictures i project now are of an overflowing pot of rice, othello on the top bunk, pita and city bookstores, drawing posters on the back of ones we ripped off the wall, passing brownies on a wooden cutting board, and so many words read aloud. "well said forehead."
some of the rolls of film are pushed to the back of the file cabinet. i revisit them only when forced. like the other day when faced with a hymn whose proclamation i sang once with ignorant gusto. i sing it now as a balm for a cracked and dried spirit.
...but now film in projection is vivid. the colors of today are bright and warm, as if painted in the light of the golden hour. the colors are the rich golds, soft purples, and subtle yellows of love. the love of my family. the love of my dad who said today that he wants more than anything to be known as a good father. the love of my friends who minister to me and renew my passion daily. and the love of God who is so faithful and so loving that i don't know how i ever see past it to anything else. this love is so overwhelming and gives the pictures life. sometimes all i can do is sit and soak it all up through my pores.
With the first snow comes the onset of my annual Bob Dylan marathon. His music is perfect with frosted windows and a cup of English breakfast tea with soy milk. If you are a Bob Dylan rookie, then allow me to make a few suggestions:
1. Mr. Tambourine Man- such a classic and has that quality of never getting old, no matter how many times you listen to it
2. Hurricane- Lyrics are about a true story (wahoo for the intersection of the arts and social justice!)... and it has a great fiddle section. All around it is a true masterpiece of a song.
3. Saved- a lesser known song from his gospel/blues days. This one has some great back up vocals.
4. I shall be free No. 10- So funny! It's a bunch of rambling but it is very Bob Dylan.
5. Forever Young- A good song that brings back good memories.
Also- This time of year always has me listening to Joni Mitchell's song, River. A beautiful song. A good cover was done by Herbie Hancock and Corinne Bailey Rae (not as good as the original, but done by two very talented musicians).
Here is a bit of mental processing from my sociology journal that I have to keep during my internship. Oh yes, I might not have mentioned that yet but I am a sociology student. It is my job to study groups of people and their kinks and quirks. Anyway, I figured I haven't written in a while and since I have been writing a journal for class I thought that a little copy and paste action might be just what this blog needs. Take a look:
Everyday I walk from the green station at Kedzie to the Breakthrough building. I walk a total of three blocks and in these blocks my mind is over-stimulated with new sights and sounds. I step off the train and try to avoid the inquisitive looks as I exit and try to walk with some air of confidence as if getting off at this stop is completely normal for a young, white girl. As I attempt to avoid the stares something catches my eye. It is the refracted light bouncing off the shards of broken glass that liter the sidewalks and streets. It vaguely reminds me of sunlight on water, but with a crude twist that speaks of the pain and addiction.
The landscape is stifled by an overwhelming amount of garbage. I can see Queen Anne’s lace peaking through the debris of fiery hot cheetoes wrappers, McDonald’s cups, and ubiquitous black bags. Someone needs to adopt this highway. I understand that someone can’t be expected to care about issues of environmentalism when they are constantly surrounded by cement and asphalt. We paved paradise and put up a garbage dump. I came to care about issues of conservation and environmental responsibility through my experiences camping and being immersed in the beauty of God’s creation. It’s no wonder no one feels responsibility to take care of the natural resources. The only resources they see come pre-packaged.
There is a convenience store on the corner, which strikes me as ironic. Sure it is a convenience until the food that can be purchased there causes you to get Diabetes or have a heart attack. Grocery stores have found it inconvenient to stay in an area where consumers cannot afford fresh produce that is shipped in from the Dominican Republic and California. I’ve read about this before, but never seen it so plainly evidenced as it is even in the trash that covers the ground.
This is the part of a college education that so many people miss. When you walk by drug deals everyday the causes that we idealistic college students sign petitions for, vote for, and get in arguments for take on a whole new meaning. They cease to be just causes and they finally become personal. They finally become a matter of keeping Marsean out of the local gang and about helping Cierra get to college and less about abstracts. Indeed, they give life to the abstracts such as welfare and socialized health care. Because as Meg Ryan’s character says on one of my favorite movies, You’ve Got Mail, “Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.”
I have been listening to the Beatles for many years now and I feel I am qualified to talk about them with some authority. Ahead of the rest of my friends, I became a fan back in 6th grade when my cool older brother started growing his hair out and wearing tie dye. I always had a certain affinity for the songs, Here Comes the Sun and Blackbird and they can often be seen on the top of my iTunes playlists. Lately though, I have been realizing how much I love the song Across the Universe. The original will always be my favorite but I also enjoy Rufus Wainwright's version, having always been a fan of his Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk.
I think this verse from Across the Universe is particularly applicable to my current phase in life: "Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my open mind possessing and caressing me"
It resonates well with my inability to think through many of the things that I experience on an everyday basis. I have an internship with an inner city ministry and everyday I experience such a mix of unprocessed emotion. There are kids that come in who can barely pass a class that isn't even up to average public school standards. But then I see the intensity of these kids and the joy they get from someone who is willing to invest time into their lives and the wave comes crashing down on me again. The good thing is the wave is always enough to disturb the stillness of the pool. For that I am thankful.
Following the form of a dear friend who has decided to walk on earth I have been inspired to create a list of things that are currently making me happy:
- bringing a grapefruit to work for lunch (and feeling like a child with jam hands afterward) - finding an over-sized magazine in the trash that is perfect for envelope making - hand-clap games - paper crane mobiles - re-visiting letters from dear friends - hearing the life story of a complete stranger - falafel with my fellow basement dweller - finally figuring out which flower is my favorite (i firmly believe that queen anne's lace puts all other flowers to shame) - sitting crisscross applesauce - running with scissors and feeling like a rebel - pondering a tattoo and really feeling like a rebel - worm farms - landscapes, skyscrapes, and escapes
