Just So You Know, I'm Totally Kidding

Another obsession: telling cute kids under the age of 3 and my dog that I want to "eat them" and pretending their limbs are corn on the cob.

Bon Appetite: mon Bleu de chien! (Who, apparently would be quite tasty!)

Why on earth would one want to eat their children and/or dog?

For now, I (among others) speculate it may have something to do with the only way to truly consume something is to eat it, ingest it, let it become part of our own bodies. Or maybe those scary European bedtime stories are to blame; you know the ones where two kids are plumped up with candy and then shoved into an oven for a witch's dindin? Or maybe it's because we watch too much FoodTV, which tells that food equals love?

I'm determined to get to the bottom of this sometime soon.

I need to for my own mental and legal safety and the safety of my dog as well as all the cute children in the world with chubby, edible cheeks, legs, and arms.

Guess Who's Visiting BGSU today?

If only it was the Tina Fey version of Palin...

Then I'd be excited, not fearful.












Picture courtesy of FoxNews.

A New Hope (*MAYBE* It's As Cool As Star Wars)

When I said I needed some hope I wasn't lying.

And when the Wick Poetry Center delivered, I became a true believer.

For the first time in probably years, I actually feel like a worthwhile writer & contributor to the Creative Writing community.

And I must say it feels pretty good.

Don't get me wrong, I've been doing readings & loving every minute of them, but something about being back in Kent & coming full circle from the kid who went to the readings to being the kid reading meant the world to me. And it motivated me in ways I'm not ready to articulate.

Apart from the fact that I got to spend time with some of my favorite kids who made me feel "oh-so-ready-to-pop-one-out."

Now that I'm home do I still feel that way?

No...Yes...Maybe...No...

But what I feel like is writing. Which can be like having a baby. Good enough for now.

I'm not doing my trip any justice...Just know that the readings were phenomenal. The panel was lively & rigorous at times. And I was always my usual freak-show self.

Once more links become available I'll be posting.

Until & between then I'll be writing.

I really wish I had some pics...

My new fav heros: Tony, Arlan, Carly, & Katherine.

Confession: I cried so HARD when Katherine & I said our good-byes I looked like an idiot.

Two (or More) for Tuesday

A homecoming is in my horizon.

Tomorrow I visit Kent State to celebrate the Wick Poetry Center 25th Anniversary by reading with past scholarship winners/some dear friends I haven't seen in a while as well as reading as part of the Why & Later anthology with benefit yoga classes.

If you can make it out Wednesday the 17th at 7:30 in the Honors College (Johnson Hall) is the Why & Later reading. Thursday the 18th from 11-12:15 p.m. is the benefit yoga class at the KSU Student Rec Center. Thursday the 18th at 8:00 p.m. in the Kiva is the Past Scholarship Winner Reading.

I'm beyond excited. In fact, I'm so excited I can't decide on what to wear.

Looks like I'll have to study the wardrobe binder intently tonight.

~

In other news, I've offended almost all of my friends by declaring my presence a politics-free zone. I care. But, more so, I don't. Usually during this time every 4 years I'm all fired up and ready to talk shop with propaganda pins neatly attached to my denim jacket and stickers attached to my bike helmet. Not this time. Really what difference would be had if I did care? Every candidate declares change, but there never is one. I don't have the emotional energy to deal with another loss or the brain occupancy to deal with bickering about something that will be over in two months. I easily could turn this blog into a rant about both sides. But being that I declared this a politics-free zone, that would go against the whole idea. I will say, though, my dream is to see Nader or Perot on the ballot. Again.

~

In more uplifting (or not) news, the Big Bang Experiment seems to be going well.

~

Thank God I'm going to Kent. Looks like a reunion is just what my spirit needs.

The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
While I want to buy this book I'm scared to.



Pollan's _The Omnivore's Dilemma_ is an informative and thoughtful reflection on food and where it comes from in our modern culture. Pollan splices journalistic accounts of his own experiences buying food, working on a farm, hunting and gathering and buying a cow with countless other sources to help credit his arguments and with historical information about food to inform us of the four meals possible in our culture: the processed, organic, grass-fed, and hunted/gathered.



Even though I thoroughly enjoyed the processed, organic, and grass-fed sections, I wasn't as much of a fan of the hunted/gathered section. This particular section seemed a bit over the top for me, especially as a wife of a hunter and fisherman. I've become accustomed to seeing my meal in its dead form as well as in the necessary butchering stage so it can be eaten and discussing it during the meal in terms of the exact hunt, location, weather, circumstances related to the specific day that meal was caught. So when Pollan talks about hunting it's a little over-sensationalized for me. However, I appreciate his newly found respect for hunting.



Some of my fav passages which I'm putting in the review because I couldn't mark up the library book:



page 215 Arthur Koestler's definition of "holon": "an entity that from one perspective appears self-contained whole, and from another a different part."



page 248 The Weston Price Foundation



page 254 "A protest of what exactly is harder to pin down...expense to opt out...distrusting Walmart...wanting to keep their food dollars in town..."



page 257 "Local food, as opposed to organic, implies a new economy as well as a new agriculture--new social and economic relationships as well as ecological ones. It's a lot more complicated."



page 264 descriptions of the grass-fed meal.



page 281 description of his food journey in the simplest of terms "...to look into the food chains that support us as I could look, and recover the fundamental biological realities that the complexities of modern industrialized eating keep from our view."



page 285 "'Nature,' as Woody Allen character says in _Love and Death_, 'is like an enormous restaurant."



By far the most hopeful and mind-blowing part of the book hands-down belongs to the Grass-fed section. I can't explain how I would irrationally move to Virginia just to be near to Polyface Farms even though I have found my own quite fabulous grass-farmer here in Ohio--Luginbill Farms.



Why would I be scared to own this book? Because it's made me so much in-the-know that I can't go to the grocery store without being hyper-sensitive and critical about what I'm putting in my cart, emotionally, politically, and psychologically, which then led me to become obsessed with the food I eat at the wide variety of restaurants we patron. The only time I feel content eating now is after we visit the Farmers Market and return with our local fruits and veggies or at Revolver Restaurant where they tell patrons on the menu which farms the food came from. While I'm not sure all the food we buy at the Farmers Markets grows on sustainable farms, I do feel better about buying food straight from our local farmers.



My recommendation is this: If you sincerely want to know what is happening in America's food culture, read this book. You'll be forever changed.



If you want to be able to happily eat whatever you wish without thinking about it, don't read this book. You'll be in the dark, and that will be a happy, easy place to remain.



As much as I sometimes wish I was in the dark, especially so I could enjoy restaurant eating again, I'm happy I'm in-the-know.






View all my reviews.

"Weird" followed by *Silence*

FD & I have a tradition of talking before we hit the hay.

Last night I told him I don't have anything to say when he asked about my blog and writing.

Because I'm the new secretary for Alicia's Voice, I've been working on projects the help the cause. But this past weekend E., our president, asked if I wanted to read the police report for Alicia's murder. Of course, I knew the story, but I didn't know the story as recorded for public record. The report has been haunting my sleep and keeping me quiet with many inarticulate thoughts--usually how I get before I start writing.

While in Utah this past October FD, Nate, and I had dinner with Tung-Hui Hu (aka Hui Hui) who said a lot of the writers he knows don't like blogging because it takes away from their "writing" time. For me blogging has always helped my writing. But I feel a change in the tide coming. Blogging is great for my essay writing, but I fear it's not-so great for my poetry writing.

While I would like my poems to work as non-fiction and my non-fiction to work like poems, which I always imagined them to be, I'm discovering they are quite different processes. More to explore.

Anyways I may be slower between posts while I'm digesting things and working out a few new poems in the process. It's nice to be at this point again. I kinda missed writing poetry...

Off-topic, in food news, I found a grass-fed organic animal farm. Monday FD & I are going to pick up some "meats" (said in an orch voice). Today we're going to look at deep freezers. I want to damn all those food books I'm reading as well as hug their authors, tightly, very tightly.

On-topic, The Center for Access to Safety and Justice, a collaboration of Wood County agencies working together in one location to assist those affected by domestic violence, will have its Grand Opening on July 1. The ceremony will be held at Stone Ridge Golf Club in Bowling Green. Please RSVP at aliciasvoice@yahoo.com by Friday, June 27. Together we can!

Right On.

This past year was all about Rehab (think: LL & BS), so it seems fitting that "Rehab" was song of the year...

Waiting...For News

Mama Katherine and Daddy Ben

(dear friends from my days in Kent who are beyond amazing peeps!),

I'm waiting for the baby news.

C'mon, baby, make a break for it. Your mama is tired and needs her body back.

Plus, I'm dying to hear what it's like to be a mama. Well, a baby mama, not puppy mama.

Love you guys.

ps There's another mother-to-be I'm thinking of.

Oh, all these mamas gets me thinkin' about mamas...

Pilgrimage

Happy New Year from us to you!

And God bless Revolver Restaurant in Findlay, Ohio.

FD and I made the pilgrimage (a very quick 25 minute drive) down there for a very special New Year's Eve dinner. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Seriously, I'm going through Revolver withdrawal as I write this.

Some of you may remember my review of Revolver and its fantastic bathroom when FD and I went there for our 2nd wedding anniversary.

We loved it so much we HAD TO go back for New Year's Eve. Like I called the week before Thanksgiving to make reservations and they had to call me back because they hadn't figured out the NYE dinner services yet. Now that's LOVE!

The whole experience was heavenly. I recently wrote a Facebook friend, "A Revolver meal is love in food form."

First, it was Beatles night, which meant that we heard the Beatles the entire 3 hours we were dining. If you were raised on the Beatles and heart the Beatles like I do, then you can imagine how rad it was to eat such delicious food while listening to "Here Comes the Sun," "Something," "Two of Us," "I've Got A Feeling," and many, many other rad hits.

FD started the meal with a Barrel House Brewing Co. "Red Legg" Ale, a home-run from a Cincinnati brewing company.

One of the boatload of things I adore about Revolver: They use local products--produce and meats from local farms and beers brewed in Ohio. See what I mean when I say God Bless them?!

I started the night with the tastiest Cosmo ever made. Yum.

We spent quite a few moments talking to Debi, co-owner of Revolver. She knew who I was because she came across my review of Revolver and my post declaring my undying love for Revolver's bathroom. Which, may I mention, Debi and her staff sterilized and wiped down SEVERAL times WHILE we were there on NYE. Seriously, can I get another God Bless?!

The food on New Year's Eve was even better than our summer visit. I trust restaurants where they out-do themselves consistently, not just blow your mind the first time--like, sadly, Cohen and Cooke when they were on Main Street in Bowling Green.

For a complete photo journal of the eight course New Year's Eve Dinner, visit Flickr. But I'll give you a little teaser.

Amuse Bouche: American Sturgeon caviar with banana, avocado, cucumber, and creme fraiche. Imagine a small salty, sweet fruity party in your mouth, then multiply it by a billion of fun. That's this dish.

Course 1: Fois gras with golden raisins, currants, grapes, and toasted brioche. It was my first time tasting fois gras. I was scared. I am no longer scared. Instead I am addicted.

Course 2: Sea scallop with braised oxtail and orange-ginger reduction. OK, I'm totally allergic-will-die-from-shelled-seafood, so Chef Micheal made me special truffle-butter raviolis with braised oxtail. I'm special and very lucky. This was purely winter comfort food. Think pot roast but waywayway tastier.

Course 3: Duck consomme with sage and rutabega noodles. So delectable we used our rolls to help lick our bowls clean. Without our rolls, I think we would have for-real licked our bowls with our tongues. Gorgeous presentation too.

Course 4: Roasted monkfish with veal sweetbreads and celery root-apple puree. Monkfish is my new favorite fish--so moist and mild but completely perfect with the sweetbreads, which tasted like a crispy, juicy chicken wing pumped with crack. I was scared of sweetbreads before too. Right now I'm totally craving them. Most people are really scared of these delicacies like sweetbreads, but I firmly believe that's because they haven't had them served correctly. My philosophy is if I'm going to go big and eat at sweet restaurants like Revolver, I must be willing to try new things. Otherwise, I should be eating at Applebee's or the wretched Reverend Chico's. (Yuck.) (Sidenote: I wasn't really crazy about the puree. It just didn't seem like part of the dish like all the components in the other dishes. It seemed more like an after-thought. But I'm no Gordon Ramsay...)

Course 5: Lamb with homemade merguez sausage, calypso beans and roasted red peppers. This dish was my favorite. The absolute perfect winter comfort food. The lamb was cooked perfectly, and with the sausage, beans, and pepper, it had all the seasoning it needed. (Yes, I loved it so much I forgot to take a picture of it before I started eating. Ooops...)

Course 6: Fiddlehead tomme with pancetta and apple crumble. Imagine a rich salty and sweet almost dessert with the tang of Swiss cheese. Mmmmmm....

Course 7: Angel food bread pudding with tangerine ice cream and eggnog served warm. Exactly what I imagine the food in heaven tasting like. Absolutely perfect.

If after reading the menu, you're still not convinced, then I guess you're just going to have to go to Revolver and taste it for yourself. Seriously, if you live in Northwestern Ohio or anywhere in the vicinity (hell, if you would travel anywhere for food), you MUST go to Revolver. The prices are beyond affordable for the priceless food and the phenomenal customer service. At least experience a meal there once on a really special occasion. I know for sure if you do, you'll go back again and again. And if you go, tell them "the girl who wrote a blog post about the bathroom" sent you.

One last thing I just can't overlook:

Dear Jack-ass-Who-Sat-At-The-4-Top-Next-to-Us, next time you go to a "nice" restaurant act your age, not a fool, and drink some water in-between your one-too-many beers. You were grossly rude to the staff and inconsiderate of the diners around you as well as your obviously-embarrassed girlfriend, who should dump your f'-ing ass ASAP.

Love, Revolver's-#1-Fans.

A Year In Review

I've always loved lists.

Especially lists that involve the word "Top."

Being as inspired as I am by E, VH1, and other "Top 2007" lists, I've decided I need my own.

Welcome to the first annual A Skirt Around The Issues Top 5 Blog Posts of 2007.

#5: "And So The Skeptic Begins Her Work." Seriously, how could my first blog post EVER not make the Top 5 list?!

#4: "So Totally Real It's Unreal." Meeting up with my childhood best friend was such an awesome experience of 2007--maybe the most awesome. The blog post for this reunion doesn't do it justice, but it's the thought that counts.

#3: "Something Nice to Say. (And Some Silence.)" Of all my blog posts of 2007, this one is the most important one to me because it really helped me rethink my writing life and forced me to start writing seriously again--nonetheless in a new genre, creative nonfiction. Bonus: it mentions Paris and her release from jail--one of the every lists "Top" moments of 2007.

#2: "Sea Bands Suck. (aka I Broke Up with Taco Bell (aka When Things Went Terribly Wrong (aka Beware: This Post Contains Gross Accounts of Vomit.)" I'm a sucker for any story that involves vomit, but this one really takes the cake. Fact: I have not eaten Taco Bell or any other fast food since summer. Honestly, I stopped craving it when I stopped eating it.

Drum roll, please.

And #1...Did you guess it?

"In Adulthood You Don't Always Get What You Want, You Get What's Do-able."

All I can say about #1 is that I still think about and want those sunglasses every day.

~

Stay tuned for a post tomorrow regarding our fantastic meal tonight and my 2008 New Year's Resolutions.

I Suppose...

it's best to not post when you have nothing to say.

I have nothing to say.

But I'm posting anyway.

Ha!

~

Now that's I've started writing, I thought of a few things:

1.) I'm so excited to pick up Bleu I can hardly stand it. Normally around Christmas all I can think about and dream about are the gifts I'm going to get (I told you I was greedy!), but this year I'm only dreaming about my boy Bleu.

2.) As I write, my childhood best friend (who I haven't seen in 15 years!) and I are making plans to get together next week. It was so awesomely weird to hear her voice on my cell phone. I sincerely can't wait to see her. I'm so excited. But a little nervous too...15 YEARS! C'mon, wouldn't you be a little nervous too?

3.) Who wants to watch a Robots marathon on FX all day Christmas Eve & Christmas Day! TBS has it right with A Christmas Story. Hopefully, TNT and USA will bust out some L&O marathons--that would rock.

On that note, I have nothing more to say.

Ha!

Who Am I To Brag About My Relationship with Jesus?

Yesterday I started our Christmas decorating.

And this is one treasure I'd like to share:

our new Playmobil Nativity Set.

Seriously, how could I not brag about a Playmobil Baby Jesus and a gorgeous Mary sporting some lovely eyelashes as well as the awesome assortment of animal and three kings who look like pimps?!?


As I kid I envied those other kids with Playmobil.

Seriously, the Playmobil dollhouse kicks Barbie's manison's ass any day of the week.

I'm thankful now we own our own BOSS Playmobil toys.

Just look how happy Jesus is for us!

And so begins the Christmas season in the McRz household.

The Last Town on Earth: A Book Review

I read The Last Town on Earth by Thomas Mullen for the BGSU Common Reading Experience Book Selection Committee. Well, actually I read it twice: first, a very quick skim and hated, then again very closely and realized it actually could be a pretty good CRE choice. As for a "fun" read, if you like historical fiction, it's worth it. If you don't, you could skip this one and not really miss out on anything. Based on how it's written, I bet there will be a movie soon.

In terms of exploring values, which is one of the criterion for the CRE, this book is perfect. Virtually all the main characters and some of the secondary characters are confronted by values choices at some point in this book, and the author writes the book in a clear enough way that even reader who weren't experienced at picking up on undertones could see how the characters' values were being challenged. From Philip to Graham to Mr. Worthy to Frank to Rebecca, each character struggles between what is right and what is wrong in terms of war time choices and choices regarding an epidemic. I've read many possible CRE books, but this one is by far the most direct about clearly exploring values.

Also, The Last Town on Earth is extremely interdisciplinary. Not only could I see academic in the humanities being able to connect to this book but also the hard sciences (there is a lot of medical references, which also explore the different values decisions people in the medical field face in times of need), the social sciences (based on how character interact with one another and themselves), historians (the 1918 setting makes this a perfect lead into discussions on World War 1), folks in business and business administration (there is a lot of discussion about running a mill, which could lead to discussion on entrepreneurship and doing "what's right" for a company), and many more. This book is a strong choice in order to satisfy almost all disciplines.

I wonder, too, if it would be easy to get the author to visit and if he wouldn't cost too much because this book was published in 2006 and it's the author's first book...Does anyone know how this writer is with students?

The one main drawback for me was the last part of this four-part book. I found Part 4 to be over-dramatic in way novels that are written intentionally for the purpose of striking a movie deal are. The author doesn't tie up the loose threads neatly, but some of the action is a little over the top and feels a bit "untrue" to the characters, especially Philip, the main character.

Generally, I'm really skeptical of endings to novels anyways, but this one really fuels my skepticism's fire, which was one reason why I hated the book so much on my first read.

After a closer read, though, I really feel that this book merits the CRE's serious consideration. It is a easy read--few "big" words and really strong images and scenes that most readers can easily visual and understand--in addition to it being values-based, interdisciplinary, and contemporary.

Based on this criteria, I think someone looking for something to read would find this book a quick read. Honestly, it's not really my cup of tea, but I feel like I'm a better person for reading it because it got me thinking about our current war on terror, our troops, and how history does repeat itself.

3 out of 5 fearful-of-epidemics Hello Kittys.

Kick Me Silly

To say I LOVE Paul Feig's Kick Me is an understatement.

I LOVE this book so much it's one of the main reasons I was procrastinating on grading. Or I should say it kept me from grading.

In other words, I had to finish it before I could do my job.

That's pretty darn good, huh?

Remember all the stupid shit that happened to you in school? I once walked around with toilet paper on my shoe for three periods before anyone told me to look at my shoe. And don't even get me started on the time I puked up Snapple Green Tea because I had three BEFORE homeroom. Or the time I peed in a McDonald's cup. Or the many times I started my period during some pointless class and prayed I wouldn't bleed through because teachers back then never let anyone go to the bathroom.

That's this book. Only Paul Feig's writing style is WAY funnier than mine.

God bless him.

And he is the creator of the best show EVER: Freaks and Geeks.

Seriously, readers, you MUST read this book. Read it when you need a pick-me-up. Read it when you need to feel like someone finally understands your dorkiness. Read it when you want to feel like a kid again. Read it just for some old-fashioned giggles.

READ IT FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD!!! Especially, you, Stokes! You would hug this book like it was your preppy, popped collar dog.

Five out of five proud-to-still-be-an-embarrassed-geek Hello Kittys.

I'd like a side of self-absorbed with that...

Hundreds of people in Findlay, 30 miles south of us, are homeless because of the flooding.

It's the worst flood Findlay has seen in 100 years.

So bad, in fact, Findlay, OH made it on "Your World Today," CNN's International News program.

And I have several students from Findlay...

But here I am obsessing over some flippin' shoes.

I'm a schmuck.

I and "I"

I cannot relate everything I want to say in language.

I did not learn medical terms in medical school that diagnosis "retardation."

I did not hear the sound of my sister sliding out of my mom's vagina.

I did not see the sterile forceps that grasped my sister's infant skull.

I did not witness the slam of a doctor's door, the stubbing my father's toe.

I cannot name a person to blame.

I cannot know the pressure of a baby who "frequently regurgitated her formula."

I cannot feel for my sister.

I cannot describe why.

I did not "tell" like my sister.

I cannot identify the meaning of every noise my sister makes.

I cannot recount my sister during the years I spent sister-less.

I cannot narrate the experience of being brain-damaged and non-verbal.

I cannot voice my sister's thoughts.

I cannot relate every emotion I feel to a word.

I cannot recall every memory accurately.

I is "from my point of view, first person."

"Bad" Words Gone Wild

One scenario: On the phone with Pops today:

Me: Yeah, I'm fucking pissed. Our fucking basement flooded again. I’m so sick of that fucking asshole plumber acting like it’s our fucking fault. Whata fucking prick. That shit-ass. Seriously, if he would just fucking call the city like we fucking tell him every time maybe we would never have to call his stupid-bastard-ass again.

Pops: Why don’t you kids get a sump pump?

Me: Who’s going to put it in? That fucking crazy mofo? No way!

Pops: How about the next time I come down I’ll look at the foundation and see what’s going on?

~

Scenario 2: On the phone with Pops at age six:

Pops: How’s school going?

Me: Good, but I hate the bus. They guys on there act like retards.

Pops: Act like what?

Me: Retards.

Pops: Put your mother on the phone. Immediately.

~

When I tell my friends that I drop the f-bomb in front of my parents, they don't believe me. Until they witness an account first-hand.

Most families' forbidden words are fuck, shit, Jesus, goddamn, and/or for Christ sake. And there are taboo words like nigger, dyke, fag, chink.

All of these words were punished with a grounding in my childhood.

However, in my parents' houses the worst "bad" word, the one that to this day that still makes me thing spanking, is "retard" as well as all of its variants: retarded, retardation, retard-o...

You get the point!

I have gotten away with saying fuck in the presence of my parents since I was 16.

I have never gotten away with saying "retarded." I even tried recently with my dad. I was 29 & 11/12. After saying it I heard nothing but a dial tone.

That word is just pure evil.

That word is a personal insult.

~

Function: verb

1 : to slow up especially by preventing or hindering advance or accomplishment.
If not for my sister, I probably wouldn't love language as much as I do, I wouldn't have started writing, I wouldn't have earned a Master's Degree in Creative Writing.

2 : to delay academic progress by failure to promote.
Once my sister was enrolled in "quality" special-ed programs, her teachers told my parents she was a joy; each year my sister "passed."

~

Function: adjective

3: sometimes offensive : slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress.
My sister won the "Yes I Can" award in 1994 and she's the first to get a tissue when someone starts crying and she choose not to learn sign language.

~

Function: noun

4: subaverage intellectual ability equivalent to or less than an IQ of 70 that is accompanied by significant deficits in abilities (as in communication or self-care) necessary for independent daily functioning, is present from birth or infancy, and is manifested especially by delayed or abnormal development, by learning difficulties, and by problems in social adjustment.
My sister waves at people, tells them she is "Fi-ne." She doesn't see the point in money, in counting. She stubbornly refuses to do anything she wants doesn't want to do like learning sign language. She gives hugs when she's ready to go to bed. She brings me nail polish and points to her toes when I visit. She lets us brush her teeth, wash and comb her hair, and bleach her mustache because, I'm convinced, she likes feeling cared for. Isn't that the same reason women go to salons and spas?

~

One summer when my brother and sister were visiting from Florida while we were playing with the neighborhood kids, a boy called my sister "retarded." I punched him square in the nose. He bled. I cried. My sister held my arm and cried. I held back my brother's writhing torso, his fisted hands flailing.

I never played with the boy again. Even after my sister and brother left for Florida.

It used to be anyone mentioned that word and I fought, I cried, or I did both at the same time.

I used to be so angry.

I used to think people who said that word were ignorant.

Then something happened.

I stopped punching people when they used it.

I don't like it, but I realized fighting would never explain why I hate the word.

It would only beget more hate.

~

I've been sitting here wondering what that something was.

Did I grow up?

Did I just get accustomed to the word? You'd be surprised how often people say it.

I counted one day. I heard it over 100 times. And I didn't got to mall.

I can't tell you what that something was.

But I think it was my sister.

It was her showing me she wasn't "retarded."

~

Or it might have been me actually saying the word without actually attaching my sister to it.

Perhaps The Most Clear Narrative Ever...

Rachel Zucker's The Last Clear Narrative is the bomb! Exclamation point!

Her second collection of poems, probably, has been the most influential collection I've read this summer. It's in a close tie with Spahr's Response. It definitely has informed my non-fiction writing the most.

The Last Clear Narrative is an intellectual autobiography of Zucker's experiences with herself knowledge, marriage, pregnancies, childbirth, death, and motherhood. These aren't just your straight-forward confessional poems, though. Zucker meshes memory with fragmented narrative and continually comments on narrative (or lack thereof) in order to craft brilliant and accurate poems. Much like Carly's book steam sequence, Zucker draws on second (or third generation) memory--as defined by my friend KK--the memory of children of survivors of trauma, essentially--in this case, of the Holocaust. In fact, as I was reading Zucker's book, I kept thinking to myself that I should have read it right after I read Carly's book. They would have made quite a pair.

Of course, I'm fascinated with Zucker's notions of memory and narrative b/c I'm obsessing about both of those things as I work on my sister essays.

There are many other glowing attributes in this collection: the sarcastic humor, the unpretentious language, the gorgeous music, the visceral honesty, the thoughtful logic, the control of white space and lack of punctuation, the dead-on pacing, the kick-ass punch of so many single lines...

Normally, I devour books, but this one I savored for a few days. It tastes so good.

I feel like there is so much I'm leaving out. I talked with KA about it last night, and I think I was more articulate then. (Don't you hate it when that happens?)

Here are a few of my fav lines:

"...I tend to doubt
his hazy reportage." (page 2)

"You happened
and happen to be here--
where I am
which changes and is always,
from my point of view, first person." (page 5)

"...I'd like to describe myself as she
but am only myself and you--not separate
or symbiotic..." (page 43)

" The essay is too easy
to dissemble. The sentence
sickens, then dismisses:" (page 45)

"when will I measure my life
by the by or sentence again" (page 50)

" ....to express self or not self
to unimagine the house it-self is no new idea" (page 70)

(Of course, I'm biased to these line for my own selfish reasons.)

My fav poems:
"Endnotes for What the Living Look Like"
"I Cannot Write Essays, Will Not Be Famous"
"What I Want You to See Is She When Not Here As In Now"

One of my new favorite poets:
Rachel Zucker

5 out of 5 fragmented Hello Kittys

OMG, I so HAVE TO BUY her new collection when it comes out in October!

Several Things...And Then Some

OK, so I've been silent lately.

Because I have nothing nice to say. About myself, that is.

This "bridge incident" in MN has me kinda messed up. Since when do major bridges collapse without a earthquake, without a hurricane?

And then I couldn't stop imagining myself on the bridge. Maybe I would die. Maybe I would survive. If I did survive, I would be f***ed up. I already hate tunnels, am convinced they will collapse sooner or later from the pressure of mountain or, worse yet, water. I think about having bridge problems (which I sometimes do) on top of my tunnel anxiety and then mixed with surviving a bridge collapse on top of all of that, I would be in definite need for therapy. And we haven't even gotten to seeing the pictures my husband showed me that his brother sent him of a polar bear attack and the HOLE (for real) in the guy's leg.

Also, there's still my OCD problem with cleaning and straightening towels and obsessively watching CNN.

So why, when the world is so screwed up, can't I find anything nice to say about myself?

Instead of praying for people and sending them good karma and volunteering my time, what do I do? I hide in bed under the covers and obsess over how I would react to all this trauma. That's really sad and selfish. I'm sorry. It's just why I can't be "political."

And I haven't even mentioned all the jealousy I feel when someone wins a writing contest I don't...

I just wish I could be like Melissa. And I appreciate her gracious review.

I just turned 30. I suppose I have even more time to grow and mature. God willing.

Then again, I dragged FD to the pool today. I sat in the shallow part of the pool for hours and felt happy. I didn't go down the slide b/c I was kinda scared of getting vertigo again, but I did forgot about the bridge, the hole the in the foot, my jealousy, my selfishness. All was right in my world.

Then I got home.

If Britney's Going to Church...

There are only three things that Britney Spears going to church could mean:

1.) Publicity--she has had publicist problems in the past, trusting the Big Man is a good move;

2.) Armageddon is here and she's pregnant with Satan's spawn, so she's going to church to recruit all the church-goers who are nice in church but give you the middle finger as they cut you off and speed like hell out of the parking lot; or

3.) Desperate times call for desperate measures--maybe it was God who chose Britney...

Really, this is a toss up.

1.) Seems logical; 2.) Seems even more logical; and 3.) Is just so crazy it might be the most logical.

~

One of my favorite sayings is that "everything happens for a reason." But really, if you believe in some kind of creator, isn't that creator the one who makes everything happen for a reason?

I don't mean it to sound like the creator is the puppet-master.

I just think maybe we should credit the person who makes "everything happen for a reason."

I'd definitely want credit for that.

~

One of my other favorite sayings is that "God only gives us what we can handle."

Here's where things between some Christians and I get a little tense.

I hear a lot of Christians say that God's love is amazing and that people should come to God because of his grace, all-loving nature, and goodness, which I believe all is true. Unfortunately, that's the bait and hook for the sad bastards who are lonely and looking for love--of any kind.

God is good and great, loving and all-forgiving. But let's not forget about the dark side of God. The God who "only gives us what we can handle." That's the Man I feel some Christians neglect to mention during the selling pitch.

Yes, God will love you. He will forgive you.

And sometimes you'll have to forgive Him. That's the hardest part of this deal, in my opinion.

Following the 10 Commandments isn't necessarily a cake walk, but dealing with the fact that God has a plan that includes war, murder, miscarriages, "accidents," etc. isn't easy at all to understand. Mix the two and it's as if God is saying, "Do what I say, not what I do." That's a true mind-f***.

In other words, I better understand Britney shaving her head, attacking the paparazzi with an umbrella, and going to church with her new "manny" and children than I understand God.

Granted both of them make no sense, but I'll take my chances on Britney. I mean, she did write an apology note to X17, which clarified why she attacked them with an umbrella.

I realize some would argue the Bible is God's explanation.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. As a English/lit/book person and creative writer, I just can't take the Bible literally. At least all of the time. Think of all the translations it's gone through, all the different interpretations. Also, consider the state of mind of some its readers--no offense.

Fables were a popular form of story-telling back in the day.

Even Jesus liked to tell stories. That in itself is a very helpful clue for me.

~

God's plan: Britney goes to church; the war in Iraq continues; season 8 of Big Brother starts; a couple miscarriages; a tulip opens; a eighteen year-old hits a guard rail going down a hill, is throw through his windshield, and decapitated; two lovers snuggle; a couple breaks up; the glass stillness of a pool shimmers; a baby is born mentally disabled with no medical explanation.

All of this is just one millisecond.

~

Story: Once upon a time there was a girl. Her name is Question Mark or ?. Her parents named her ? because when she was born her face was furled like someone thinking in questions. As ? grew up, she began to notice her sister wasn't like the other kids she knew. The other kids were punctuations marks--some round, some straight, some a little curvy--like her. Her sister was hard angles and a line, a tepee with a little window. A. Other kids stared at her, which made ? defensive of her sister and a bit of a hard question mark, one of anger than a soft one like a joke.

One day ? decided to ask questions about her sister, to find out why she was different. While asking questions about her sister, she came across other questions about family, friendships, humanity, God. ? furrowed her brow like when she was born. She was learning there are no easy answers to most questions.

But she believed asking questions showed faith, showed hope, created closure, proved she was living her life to its fullest extinct.

~

The same story translated: Once upon a time there was a girl named Amanda. Her parents named her Amanda because it meant "Beloved" and because it was a popular name in the 70s.
As Amanda grew up, she began to notice her sister wasn't like the other kids she knew. The other kids could talk, had straight teeth, didn't drool, went to "normal" school. Her sister couldn't talk, didn't have straight teeth, drooled, and went to a school for the "retarded." Other kids (and adults) stared at her sister, which made Amanda defensive and angry for a very long time.

One day Amanda decided to ask questions about her sister, to find out why she was different. While asking questions about her sister, she came across other questions about family, friendships, humanity, God. Amanda was afraid people would view her questions as hurtful when really she was just trying to live her life to the fullest. She really wasn't trying to hurt people's feelings by asking questions. She was trying to learn that there was no easy way to ask questions and that there are no easy answers to most questions.

But she believed asking questions that couldn't be answered easily was essential to being human.

~

What's lost between these two stories, their different translations?

What's gained?

~

This morning during yoga class, I felt the closest I have to God in a long while.

I'm in Warrior 2, for the first time on my right side, and I'm trying to sit down with my sit bones, keep my front knee over my front ankle, sit back into the back leg on the outside of the foot, breathe, lift up my sacrum, sit down into my sit bones, breathe. My whole body is shaking. My yoga instructor, God bless her, is shaking her head. The left side is the same struggle.

During the second time, I feel things starting to click. I know I'm not doing the pose perfectly, but I feel myself opening up in all the tight places and I'm breathing freely, not holding my breathe. I'm aware of my body in that moment and only that moment. My breath, my opening, my awareness--I feel God in me, even in my shaking thighs and hamstrings.

For me to see the blessing of his presence in my body, I have to be aware of the struggle in my body at the exact same time.

I don't know how else to explain it. A literal translation would ruin the whole mystery, the core meaning.

~

Oh, Britney, I think to myself in the car on the way home from yoga class.

We're not too different, are we? We're both just trying to find answers.

Maybe it seems easier or more justified for me because I don't have cameras following my every step. I don't have shitloads of money to further complicate things.

~

When I first started taking yoga, I looked around the room at all the participants instead of watching the instructor. I wanted to compare myself to everyone else. I wanted to know I was more flexible, a better listener, etc. By doing this I was cheating myself.

Now I only watch the instructor or I keep my eyes closed. I can't compare myself with others. I can only do my best. It's the instructor's job to help everyone else do their best, and comparing myself to them only proved I was insecure about my own practice.

It took me years to learn this. If I'm right about ten.

~

God only judges us individually, right? He doesn't compare us, right? And He gave me my life for a reason, right?

So then my life is the exact one He wants me to live, right? If he's judging me as me, based only on me as person, why do I think I'm living a less Christian life than others? Or why would others think that way?

If we use this comparison (or lack-thereof) model, then Britney stands a chance at getting into the pearly gates, right? And she should try, right? Without judgment. Why not?

But isn't faith usually comparable? Isn't it possible a priest ask parishioners to compare themselves with John the Baptist? Then what?

What of God's plan, his design, his intentions we sometimes can't see, the answers we sometimes never get? How do we know we are living in His image, if we're all being compared to people we aren't?

~

Why would it worry me if anyone compared me to my sister? Wouldn't that be a blessing?


This post was inspired by Britney Spears, Rock This Life, and many, many other things that fascinate me and that I appreciate whole-heartedly.