tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28604946352874015412024-03-18T22:36:53.335-05:00a new leaf | living every minute of itKrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.comBlogger209125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-81871992533247441852010-06-22T02:51:00.035-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.089-05:00Of Vitality and VulnerabilityThis is such an odd way to return to this blog. I don't really want to go into all the business about what has kept me away except to say that my last post marked the beginning of a gradual withdrawal into a void out of which I have only recently emerged. (Cryptic, yes. But that's all you're gonna get -- for the time being, anyway.)<br />
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So what has brought me back?<br />
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Over the summer, my blogger friend <a href="http://off-the-deep-end.blogspot.com/">Wendy</a> died of a heart attack after the Flowers Sea Swim in Grand Cayman. She was 50. Sixteen years and two days older than I.<br />
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Strangely, I only really began to learn more about Wendy after her death It's just bits here and there that I could piece together from people's remembrances of her on her Facebook wall, but two things are clear. First, she loved swimming. Second, she was a consistently positive influence on everyone around her, no matter how close or casual the relationship. <br />
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It's such a cliché to contemplate one's mortality when a friend dies, often inspiring some sort of beat-the-clock flurry of activity or a commitment to living a better life, whatever that might mean. Something I have been contemplating for a while now has been what it means to live a vulnerable life.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-24360351394685874102010-02-28T16:30:00.002-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.975-05:00If You Like a Ukulele Lady<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0_JrDSLmpAix9a42bWxTJgWZV9s9WFakN86kjIW4WE3Ou8PvxjBWJTiuvmFmMQlPF4YvXluh_cJegmdNV0iMl8x5JlNYPx7PghiVgWKFV5ZCHVX0YDXZSnFOYR5jmX-l4AaNoGaxs7Y/s1600-h/uke+lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0_JrDSLmpAix9a42bWxTJgWZV9s9WFakN86kjIW4WE3Ou8PvxjBWJTiuvmFmMQlPF4YvXluh_cJegmdNV0iMl8x5JlNYPx7PghiVgWKFV5ZCHVX0YDXZSnFOYR5jmX-l4AaNoGaxs7Y/s200/uke+lady.jpg" width="165" /></a></div><div><div id="c_s013XBthi44DS2xQXB9N8z6Uw=="><div class="ilike_content"><ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style: none outside none;"><li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/The+Fabulous+Pink+Flamingos/track/Ukulele+Lady" title="Ukulele Lady">Ukulele Lady</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/The+Fabulous+Pink+Flamingos/The+Fabulous+Pink+Flamingos">The Fabulous Pink Flamingos</a></li>
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<div id="ilike_s013XBthi44DS2xQXB9N8z6Uw=="><div style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); font-size: smaller; padding-top: 5px;">More <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/The+Fabulous+Pink+Flamingos">The Fabulous Pink Flamingos</a> music on <a href="http://www.ilike.com/">iLike</a></div></div></div><br />
I don't know why I think this is a good idea, but I'm learning to play ukulele. My Tagalog tutor had a cheap one lying around that she wasn't playing, and she let me have it so I could see if I liked it before spending dough on one of my own. (A decent starter uke is about $50-80 bones; this one is probably in the $20 range.)<br />
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Actually, this was inspired by the poetry slam I went to the other night. They busted out a uke for one of the pieces and I jotted down in my notebook, "get a ukulele" -- a note I rediscovered the next day in class when I was talking about deciding whether to lobby for a creative performance as my dissertation project (the uke would be put to use in the performance). So I went home Friday and spent the rest of the night learning all I could about the ukulele and how difficult it would be to get started. Turns out it's not too bad. After an hour or so of tuning and tinkering around, I know four chords (though I can't quite change between them yet), and I'm getting the hang of strumming. I can already see the cheapness of the one I have, though. The tuning thingies (I could probably look this up, but I want to get this posted quickly) are made of plastic and don't stay in place when I tune. That's definitely a problem. Nevertheless, I think I'll see how I'm doing in another couple weeks before I decide if investing in an entry-level uke is wise.<br />
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But let me tell you, I've already got my eye on this little number:<br />
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Lanikai LU-21C Concert Ukulele<br />
Brand: LANIKAI<br />
Part #: 302530<br />
List Price: <s>$119.99</s><br />
Your Price: $79.00<br />
Inventory Status: Available<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And if I go through with this, it will take every fiber of my being not to get one of these (I think you know why):</div><br />
<a href="http://www.highlystrung.co.uk/acatalog/2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.highlystrung.co.uk/acatalog/2018.jpg" /></a>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-90131095053466466762010-02-25T22:43:00.002-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.108-05:00To Save 15 BonesThrough a series of mistakes and miscalculations, I ended up missing my bus and had to drive my car in to school this morning and park it on one of the university parking ramps. Thursdays are my crap days anyway -- I usually arrive on campus around 8am and have back-to-back-to-back obligations until after 6pm. And just so you know, it is nearly impossible to plan, pack, and lug around the amount of food a day of this length requires, since I don't stay in one place all day. <br />
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Today, however, would be even longer -- I caught a poetry slam that lasted until after 7. (It was AWESOME, by the way. I'm attending a free writing workshop they're putting on tomorrow at the library.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdH_zEUiRtAFY4ECK34vRk03_XYuD3B8HeU4PfZvNvicSG05UkAb0iJh9zd4xpE_VG0U0eJIrTTwfnzqjuRTqpB_b3bMJNQU6VVAxU5Q86JOZ4m1AFLIbK1MB2bbu2n0zC79AWxU8WB4/s1600-h/DSC00404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdH_zEUiRtAFY4ECK34vRk03_XYuD3B8HeU4PfZvNvicSG05UkAb0iJh9zd4xpE_VG0U0eJIrTTwfnzqjuRTqpB_b3bMJNQU6VVAxU5Q86JOZ4m1AFLIbK1MB2bbu2n0zC79AWxU8WB4/s320/DSC00404.JPG" /></a> I actually had a short break just before their performance, and I wanted to go home and get some dinner...except that it would cost me $15 duckets to get my car out of the ramp! Screw that! They stop monitoring the ramp at midnight -- then I can get the damn car out for free.<br />
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But to stay until midnight, I'd still need to go home to get the power pack for my laptop and workout clothes. So I took the bus home anyway, gathered up all my stuff, and then caught the next bus back to campus. Despite my ambitions to be productive, I am dead on my feet nonetheless. I have no desire to exercise, so I'm counting the 30-minute walk to and from the bus stop as my workout. Actually, being on foot in the cold night air was peacefully invigorating, if that's possible. Though it had "cold and lonely" written all over it, I really enjoyed waiting for the bus alone in the dark. <br />
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The walk across campus to the student union was also pretty fantastic -- though I nearly froze my fingers off to get a photo of the capitol building that even approached being in focus. Worth it, anyway.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZcAlJvP9gFLTYtqdhTuNpC_2gFf2kBa96RWdZyomoFC9gG4c6UFYebxuAvpROXcp7AgybRkZgIzFeEN1W815xtKR1ZOsYM5Iv99IQAhTzXb_NKv8LTbmQha7ThO6PdZyBFUE_veIfSI/s1600-h/DSC00413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZcAlJvP9gFLTYtqdhTuNpC_2gFf2kBa96RWdZyomoFC9gG4c6UFYebxuAvpROXcp7AgybRkZgIzFeEN1W815xtKR1ZOsYM5Iv99IQAhTzXb_NKv8LTbmQha7ThO6PdZyBFUE_veIfSI/s320/DSC00413.JPG" /></a>But now, despite drinking down a large coffee, I can barely keep my eyes open except to look longingly at my car, trapped on the third level of the parking ramp for another hour and a half.<br />
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I wanna go home and go to bed!KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-22804170272029173222010-02-24T08:52:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.954-05:00Riot Proof (Or, Scrappy Is As Scrappy Doo)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW73PeN2Q9lhtQ8ztHutUbQdwybwTqE_08df2qus_uRMiCAvK795zd52ev8M5ow0HeF5KInkAzgmQGHV_AwhIh42aX4Q6JcXxxNW2B9AVlkMFQUGlyLgXXfgeHjnBYh3FgOUpPagVRQU0/s1600-h/DSC00390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW73PeN2Q9lhtQ8ztHutUbQdwybwTqE_08df2qus_uRMiCAvK795zd52ev8M5ow0HeF5KInkAzgmQGHV_AwhIh42aX4Q6JcXxxNW2B9AVlkMFQUGlyLgXXfgeHjnBYh3FgOUpPagVRQU0/s640/DSC00390.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />This is a view from the steps of the Old Capitol building. Just beyond the trees, you can see two brick buildings. Actually, you can <b><i>see</i></b> the one brick building with all the windows, but the other -- the massive brick blob -- somehow manages to disappear behind the one tree in the foreground that doesn't have any leaves. This is the building that houses my department and my office. And it was designed to be riot proof.<br /><br />That's right.<br /><br />It was apparently built at the tail-end or right after that period in history when college students paid attention to the world around them, got pissed, and took potentially destructive action. With the exception of faculty offices, you can only see out if you stay near the doors. Every door in the building is a fire door, so leaving my office to go to the restroom is a workout. Similarly, the first floor is laid out in a such a pattern with oddly-angled turns such that one becomes disoriented in the building very easily. Students can almost never find their instructors' offices -- or even the department office at times! It took me the better part of a semester to match the specific portions of the inside to their outside-world counterparts, and correctly identify which of four unevenly placed exit doors connected them.<br /><br />During my first year, I don't know how many times I ended up walking 3/4 of the way around the building because I could never be sure which was the shortest path between the part of the building where I was standing and where I wanted to end up.<br /><br />A perfect physical representation of the problem I have with academia in general.<br /><br />I took this picture the same day that two emails went out over the grad student listserv "encouraging" more attendance at department seminar.<br /><br /><br />More concerned about being considered a "great thinker" than they are with doing the kind of thinking (or <i><b>ACTING</b></i>, for that matter) that might actually do someone any good.<br /><br /><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b> <span style="font-size: x-small;">by Walt Whitman</span></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I heard the learn’d astronomer;</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.</div><br /><br /><i><b>"I love you, Walt freakin' Whitman!"</b></i>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-73331782124227827082010-02-23T12:21:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.069-05:00Mornings with Dinah (Or, Serenity WOW!)<span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span><br />
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<div><div id="c_s01hjGBjAmu8q3VvnleT4vjtw=="><div class="ilike_content"><ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style-image: none; list-style-position: outside; list-style-type: none;"><li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Thelonious+Monk/track/Dinah" title="Dinah">Dinah</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Thelonious+Monk/Thelonious+Monk">Thelonious Monk</a></li>
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<div id="ilike_s01hjGBjAmu8q3VvnleT4vjtw=="><div style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); font-size: smaller; padding-top: 5px;">The song Dinah was named after -- it captures her little personality so well! </div></div></div><br />
I try to do yoga every morning, and these days it has turned into quiet time with Dinah. When I first started, toward the end of my time in New Mexico, I still had all three dogs. Even though I wanted them to hang out during yoga time, that proved an impossibility. I don't know if you've ever tried to lay on the floor when dogs are in the room, but they lose their shit. <i>"Oh my Gawd, she's on the floor! Let's go put our snoots in her face!"</i> Of course, this never happened when I wanted to <b>sleep</b> on the floor with them -- they'd trot off to their respective beds. But if I got on the floor with any sense of purpose (crunches, yoga), it was like feeding time at the koi pond. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8PXhDdqbD_n45b4FSG1NHnWjTYuYHHg61AfY7WtmhG_dbya-atdWsWf2vKlr57rRg8jvGL4Q6Z0sDta8FT9UptesEkDh4WCd2wcEqqYqnFXsxnEqwYv16zR64untKXal_6kUvhqhpFw/s1600-h/Dinah+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8PXhDdqbD_n45b4FSG1NHnWjTYuYHHg61AfY7WtmhG_dbya-atdWsWf2vKlr57rRg8jvGL4Q6Z0sDta8FT9UptesEkDh4WCd2wcEqqYqnFXsxnEqwYv16zR64untKXal_6kUvhqhpFw/s200/Dinah+bird.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Anyway, I can still hear Dinah's little paws on the yoga mat. They made this hollow sound that the other two dogs were too heavy to make. When I'm doing my morning yoga routine, my mind usually wanders off to New Mexico and Dinah's paws. It's a good way to start the day.<br />
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<a href="http://www.breadwig.com/uploads/illustration/lucky/dachshund_puppy_wiener_dog_race_breadwig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.breadwig.com/uploads/illustration/lucky/dachshund_puppy_wiener_dog_race_breadwig.jpg" width="320" /></a>As serene as that sounds, my mind usually ends up in the land of wiener dog races, and I can't help but laugh. You know how dogs get feisty sometimes and then sprint on an invented loop in the house for what seems like no reason? Well, when Dinah did it, she'd hunker her rear end down like a motorboat.<br />
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<div><div id="c_s01R1-lOGivMI3qMPSGSYNGyQ=="><div class="ilike_content"><ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style-image: none; list-style-position: outside; list-style-type: none;"><li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Yello/track/The+Race+%28Remastered+Club+Mix%29" title="The Race (Remastered Club Mix)">The Race (Remastered Club Mix)</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Yello/Yello">Yello</a></li>
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<div id="ilike_s01R1-lOGivMI3qMPSGSYNGyQ=="><div style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); font-size: smaller; padding-top: 5px;">If you know what's good for you, you'll press play while you read the next bit.</div></div></div><br />
One day I came home from work when she and Rocky were in mid-chase. Dinah came flying out of the hallway with the crazy-eye and her tongue flying, with Rocky right on her tail. As they crossed the living room, I thought they would turn around in front of the coffee table. BUT NO! Dinah leaped onto the table, over the bottom cushions of the couch, and then -- <b><i>turning her body in mid-air</i> </b>-- banked off the back cushions and ran back from whence she came! EGADS! And Rocky, being more potato-y than Dinah, followed suit only without the acrobatics -- his paws clobbered every. single. surface.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpmh_tP1BlAhmXlGXo7oTYKVJiui5WuHYrb0WeTqH84_fVozHbu6MCGr4IshPvaHb9h3lH-jB-s0pZ8TU8ld4Cxkzlx_lQRvV7OvfNrPmxuH2Mq46UB1KyY99hrZ572gBXMHKJ4oWCK4/s1600-h/Bootsie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpmh_tP1BlAhmXlGXo7oTYKVJiui5WuHYrb0WeTqH84_fVozHbu6MCGr4IshPvaHb9h3lH-jB-s0pZ8TU8ld4Cxkzlx_lQRvV7OvfNrPmxuH2Mq46UB1KyY99hrZ572gBXMHKJ4oWCK4/s320/Bootsie.jpg" /></a></div>Of course, Boots could see that this was lots of fun and wanted to join in. But she was even bigger and more lumbering than Rocky. All she could manage was to bounce her front paws a few times in the direction the other two just ran before they turned and were headed back toward her. This effectively turned her back half into a pivot, and she just hopped her front half back and forth barking her head off as the other two dogs whizzed by. <br />
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Suddenly, the claw marks on the coffee table made sense, and the mystery of how stacks of student papers ended up strewn all over the living room was solved. OH MY GAWD, those dogs were so damn funny together. They didn't do this very often when I was home -- I certainly never saw the ninja couch turn -- but they obviously spent a lot of their time alone entertaining themselves this way. I miss them all!KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-59224297128964824112010-02-22T11:07:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.039-05:00A Voice Like Buttah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://carrienewcomer.com/media/carrie/carrie-bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="http://carrienewcomer.com/media/carrie/carrie-bio.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: TIMES NEW ROMAN,TIMES; font-size: small;">“For singer/songwriter Carrie Newcomer, beauty is discovered in the midst of the ordinary. Life is experienced in the spaces between darkness and light. Truth is found in the bond between music and word. On one level, the listener experiences these types of connections through Newcomer’s lyrics, which explore life with a progressive spiritual sensibility. In a world that encourages us to move faster and think bigger, Newcomer invites the listener to slow down and reflect on the small things that make life worthwhile. For her, ‘songwriting is not about being clever, flashy or fancy—it is about telling a compelling story in language and music with elegance and clarity.’ The result is a resonant soundtrack for a world that is both sacred and ordinary.” </span><span style="font-family: ARIAL,HELVETICA; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: ARIAL,HELVETICA; font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span><br /><span style="font-family: ARIAL,HELVETICA; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><br /><span style="font-family: ARIAL,HELVETICA; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-38769209524664102022010-02-22T08:47:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.008-05:00Of Porn and Pants (Or, "The More We Change...")<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Wind%20and%20Water%20and%20Stone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Wind%20and%20Water%20and%20Stone.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I have been cracking up all morning. I've mentioned that I consult the <i>I Ching</i> every morning for some lesson to take with me through the day. Today's hexagram is K'an: The Abysmal, and the lesson is that in times of trouble we should flow like water. Accordingly, <i>The I Ching for Writers</i> advised me revise only lightly today as my writing might be headed for turbulent times. You'd think I'd forego the blogging today, but NOPE, it is my nature to push on (hence the need for taoism). Actually, today's lesson reminded me of another poem I wrote around the same time as <i><a href="http://everyday-tao.blogspot.com/2010/02/te-of-writing.html">Opus</a></i><i>.</i> Even though today's hexagram (The Abysmal) is really two water trigrams, I think you can see how this poem reflects the spirit of today's lesson. Oh, and that I was clearly a taoist before I even knew what that meant.<br />
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I wrote this in the spring of 1997. I was hormonal -- that's my only explanation -- and an inconsolable, disagreeable mess. The Cray and I were hiking in the Organ Mountains that preside over town. Even in the midst of my tantrum, we decided to drop our pants and just stand around for a little bit. Somehow, the feel of the open air on my undercarriage made me feel a little better. Then I went home and wrote this. Take note of the third stanza. That's the one that had me in stitches. I'll explain after.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Of Water and Wind</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">Thought of the wind like water today:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">a swirling flow</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">pooling in valleys,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">funneling through canyons. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">Not blowing to satisfy nominal expectations</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">like gravity or some other force,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">but an ocean:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">a constantly changing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">ebb of imagination pushed aside</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">by rocks and other hard things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">It <i>is</i> undertow: not caught up in itself,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">but taking in its path;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">not disappointed by this side of the rock</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">or wondering about the other.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">Inside: gentle color, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">and unseen lethal force,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">the more obvious bearing jags and razors</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">still not caring one way or the other, but moving</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">aside and going where it can.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">The earth fidgets in its restlessness:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">at first a breathy quiver,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">and then both explode</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">into a tsunami of tears and gasps</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">mixing two that should never have been assigned</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">separately in the first place</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">Until, in a spitting foam rage,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">they punish and mold land to their liking</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">to remain so for as long as Hs and Os desire.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">The oceans</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">of water and wind</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">can always go back to their gentle moves,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">but the land must remain until the others decide</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">to blow off the dust of old carvings for a new path.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">They continue to needle and thwart each other;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">each change making for new shapes and flows</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">that are still worth looking at</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">and noticing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">and listing</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">under beautiful things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think it's interesting that my efforts to recover my writer's voice has resulted in multiple returns to pieces I wrote the first time The Cray and I were together as undergrads in Las Cruces. Maybe I should take a moment to state for the record that I don't necessarily think my writing is spectacular, just that I did it regularly and that's what I'm trying to recover. Cases in point:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Breathy Quiver." This is my go-to porn star name. No, not for myself. But in conversation, when I needed a fictional porn star name, that's the one I'd go with. Okay, I don't know how to explain why I led such an existence that everyday conversation would require a go-to porn star name, but what are ya gonna do? But clearly, even in a fit of rage and despair, I will still crack jokes to myself and/or reference porn. Also, I'm almost 100% certain I didn't do this deliberately when I wrote it, but I'm amused by the vaguely pornographic imagery in that stanza too. Oy vey.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The other little nugget in there is the "punish and mold" line. Sometime around 2000, I found myself on the losing end (the stupid end) of an argument with The Cray about, of all things, Monica Lewinsky. Rather than simply ceding the point, I flew into yet another inexplicable rage. (Seriously, I don't know why he still talks to me.) Let's just say that the incident ended with me standing on the futon in our basement room in Seattle and tearfully accusing him of seeking out younger women (he's 6-1/2 years older than me) so he could "shape and mold" them. Even I couldn't keep a straight face through that one. And let me tell you, he <i><b>still </b></i>loves dropping that line on me when I'm acting a-fool. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A final note before I run off to school: in creating the "porn" label for this post, I realize that means that on some level, I anticipate future posts in which I reference porn -- at least enough to warrant a whole label for it. Of the eight people whom I've notified about the existence of this blog, my parents aren't among them. Jess, this means this is officially an F-bomb-friendly zone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bombs away!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-59963467583994130212010-02-21T20:16:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.046-05:0081 Days of Tao: Verse 2<div><div id="c_s01nDBJj6MZmWj0DudnStTsnA=="><div class="ilike_content"><ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style-image: none; list-style-position: outside; list-style-type: none;"><li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/No+Doubt/track/Staring+Problem" title="Staring Problem">Staring Problem</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/No+Doubt/No+Doubt">No Doubt</a></li></ul></div></div><script src="http://www.ilike.com/api/s?c=1&k=s01nDBJj6MZmWj0DudnStTsnA%3D%3D"></script><br /><div id="ilike_s01nDBJj6MZmWj0DudnStTsnA=="><div style="border-top: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); font-size: smaller; padding-top: 5px;">More <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/No+Doubt">No Doubt</a> music on <a href="http://www.ilike.com/">iLike</a></div></div></div><br /><a href="http://www.thebigview.com/download/tao-te-ching-illustrated.pdf"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Verse 2:</b></span></a><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Under heaven all can see beauty as</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">beauty only because there is ugliness.</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">All can know good as good only</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">because there is evil.</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Therefore having and not having arise together.</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Difficult and easy complement each other.</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Long and short contrast each other:</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">High and low rest upon each other;</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Voice and sound harmonize each other;</span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Front and back follow one another.</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Therefore the sage goes about doing<br />nothing, teaching no-talking.<br />The ten thousand things rise and fall without cease,<br />Creating, yet not possessing.<br />Working, yet not taking credit.<br />Work is done, then forgotten.<br />Therefore it lasts forever.</span>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-38129886391353493642010-02-21T08:35:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.998-05:00Going Public<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/194/472097903_b781a0f4f8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/194/472097903_b781a0f4f8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I wrestled with the decision to share my new blog with others for quite some time. On one hand, keeping it private gave me the freedom to write about anything I want -- warts and all. On the other, there are some things I wouldn't mind a little help and support with.<br />
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So here it is. I have shared the link with very few people. (Hi there. If you're reading this, it means you mean a lot to me. I'm glad you stopped by.)<br />
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It's become a little overrun with training log stuff, but I hope to get back to the earlier impulse to revel in all things <a href="http://everyday-tao.blogspot.com/search/label/Iowa">Iowa</a>, maybe more about music (just went to a concert last night, expect a full report on that soon), and generally holding myself accountable for my 2010 lifestyle change.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-34745271348303451782010-02-20T22:22:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.990-05:0081 Days of Tao: Verse 1With roughly 81 days left in the semester, I plan to ruminate on each of the 81 verses of the <a href="http://www.thebigview.com/download/tao-te-ching-illustrated.pdf"><i>Tao Te Ching</i></a> with the hope that I will emerge in May a more balanced, peaceful soul.<br />
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<div id="c_s01LO1-8xnyNk0denl7eDVwXw=="><div class="ilike_content"><ul class="song_list_preview" style="list-style-image: none; list-style-position: outside; list-style-type: none;"><li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Carrie+Newcomer/track/I+Do+Not+Know+Its+Name" title="I Do Not Know Its Name">I Do Not Know Its Name</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Carrie+Newcomer/Carrie+Newcomer">Carrie Newcomer</a></li>
</ul></div></div><script src="http://www.ilike.com/api/s?c=1&k=s01LO1-8xnyNk0denl7eDVwXw%3D%3D">
</script><br />
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<a href="http://www.thebigview.com/download/tao-te-ching-illustrated.pdf"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Verse 1:</span></span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Tao that can be told is not the</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>eternal Tao.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The name that can be named is not the</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>eternal name.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The nameless is the beginning of</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>heaven and Earth.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The named is the mother of the ten</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>thousand things.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Ever desireless, one can see the</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>mystery.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Ever desiring, one sees the</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>manifestations.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>These two spring from the same source</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>but differ in name; this appears as</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>darkness.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Darkness within darkness.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The gate to all mystery.</i></span><br />
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I realize the contradiction (and impossibility) of attempting to interpret the tao in words when it defies such definition. Rather than go stumbling into that futility, I will point to the moments that have held it for me. It is something between an endorphin rush and that moment just before sleep. It's looking out across the land, street, neighborhood, and seeing it for the first time after you've traversed it for years. It's the right turn onto Scott Blvd. from Muscatine when I could see the cornfields unfold in the distance and knew that Dinah was waiting for me to return home. It's when the perfect song comes on the radio -- one you've never heard before, but the one you needed to hear. <br />
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The song at the top of this post is just such a song. The lyric that touched me: "it must taste like peaches eaten by the road side."<br />
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On Superbowl Sunday, I stopped at Hy-Vee on my way home from the gym to pick up snack fixins for Laura's SB party. As I was pulling into the parking lot, three songs in a row came on and I just could not stop listening. The first one came to me and it was exactly what I needed to hear at that precise moment. Then two more followed right behind it. I sat in the car for 15 minutes, snow falling around me and temperature dropping, before I finally went inside to get snack fixins. Such a wonderful moment.<br />
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I think this song captures the essence of this first verse. The nature of the tao is that it defies definition. It cannot be expressed, but it can be known.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-18122572332097696262010-02-10T14:23:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.933-05:00"How Romantic!"...said my office mate when I told her I took my time walking back to our office after lecture so I could take some pictures down by the river. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe0X07RMRGs3j__PXba5-E4e68jHYzedD_z718aWg0N8tAcadvmSeOhMkFo2WE86Vl8HK8Y4h64OcgcNiwq0pOk31jAHME1aGI5Q1Xt8hYzhzeJOJoE8bk-6vKARtmXjQZbg-G8F2fUg/s1600-h/DSC00377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfe0X07RMRGs3j__PXba5-E4e68jHYzedD_z718aWg0N8tAcadvmSeOhMkFo2WE86Vl8HK8Y4h64OcgcNiwq0pOk31jAHME1aGI5Q1Xt8hYzhzeJOJoE8bk-6vKARtmXjQZbg-G8F2fUg/s320/DSC00377.JPG" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmYTvib4gHq10lSuKvVU0-1KaAThENYz6mceY2c88k_01PrsvRZlx1DrKVKIQnh8lFJAdbHi7rbsAZPbofuAADKgP7040NW6bUX8UiFQDx2yV3Yu0-NgvvDPu_I0DKBcWVExoN3cyI8M/s1600-h/DSC00379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCmYTvib4gHq10lSuKvVU0-1KaAThENYz6mceY2c88k_01PrsvRZlx1DrKVKIQnh8lFJAdbHi7rbsAZPbofuAADKgP7040NW6bUX8UiFQDx2yV3Yu0-NgvvDPu_I0DKBcWVExoN3cyI8M/s320/DSC00379.JPG" /></a> Bridge over the Iowa River<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn246mylYcNHkdWARccvHmZqLDJ4Mus4dKPrqpNilM3473LRWGgbZjKhSN3y2FqH43UVz8MjuP0lAx2d9BQaSfcWLIiO615FSXlzAl63EBjuOq1-FsEDWYcWPeSK8uxD4I2DV_my8pdpM/s1600-h/DSC00384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn246mylYcNHkdWARccvHmZqLDJ4Mus4dKPrqpNilM3473LRWGgbZjKhSN3y2FqH43UVz8MjuP0lAx2d9BQaSfcWLIiO615FSXlzAl63EBjuOq1-FsEDWYcWPeSK8uxD4I2DV_my8pdpM/s320/DSC00384.JPG" /></a> Danforth Chapel<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNI4DYde4JmKUSpdj-LZy6TlER8eGm7QlxnX6bSSXP8jogXlFPek4TSU9zykSkvAY0vDiABauKDAt1WvJ0hSzhP20mEHUcmnXai4q27_lxRmCGl9iEMTOQNJiFou8XSaGDilWyAABGXzw/s1600-h/DSC00385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNI4DYde4JmKUSpdj-LZy6TlER8eGm7QlxnX6bSSXP8jogXlFPek4TSU9zykSkvAY0vDiABauKDAt1WvJ0hSzhP20mEHUcmnXai4q27_lxRmCGl9iEMTOQNJiFou8XSaGDilWyAABGXzw/s320/DSC00385.JPG" /></a> Old State CapitolKrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-37890977248761094722010-02-09T14:46:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.994-05:00Iowa Winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrxnKiFul86Wkj6ccncW1qz3-GTAHOwBr_Lbzo1qiqq1GDlP-el_E40KyvDbFotwqBKxvQO5bTpa2DpZuXdKnav7VTpAKQa2YbsEtx64vjacR1a-5cTn453mu9GRukheM7NKysBZ1EJU/s1600-h/Iowa+City+Train+Station.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrxnKiFul86Wkj6ccncW1qz3-GTAHOwBr_Lbzo1qiqq1GDlP-el_E40KyvDbFotwqBKxvQO5bTpa2DpZuXdKnav7VTpAKQa2YbsEtx64vjacR1a-5cTn453mu9GRukheM7NKysBZ1EJU/s320/Iowa+City+Train+Station.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I think the best evidence that I can be happy anywhere is the fact that I love Iowa in the winter. So much, in fact, that I started wishing for snow at the end of September this season. The first winter I was here was apparently the worst in about a decade -- bitterly cold, lots of ice. I was fine. My definition of "cold" certainly got revised, but I adapted well. I learned how to strategize my snow removal -- mostly to suck it up and clear some away mid-storm so it would be a little easier the next time I'd have leave the house on a schedule. I also discovered the peculiar comfort that the sound of snow plows in the wee hours of night/morning brings.<br /><br />Right now a snow storm is dumping 5-9 inches of snow on us. I was leaving downtown this afternoon when it started coming down in big, fluffy flakes -- my favorite! The next thing I knew, I found myself down by the train station, so I fired off a few pictures.<span id="goog_1265747560235"></span><span id="goog_1265747560236"></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuusLUJIBlqR1rGhzxlcGdXCEtTB9PCTSG8j4T7ZYCxsmxKpwdpnbLynunPnuBTWDi9aRijFD6hm_C7fjYNhIpYGCOVDn0wbyuHPYHzsf4edJgq1cGmRLlnjq9PiNEGAsv0flOZE7O4w/s1600-h/Storm+Feb+2010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipuusLUJIBlqR1rGhzxlcGdXCEtTB9PCTSG8j4T7ZYCxsmxKpwdpnbLynunPnuBTWDi9aRijFD6hm_C7fjYNhIpYGCOVDn0wbyuHPYHzsf4edJgq1cGmRLlnjq9PiNEGAsv0flOZE7O4w/s320/Storm+Feb+2010.JPG" /></a></div>I thought the brick apartment building across the street from the station was especially pretty in the snow. I can only imagine those are also some fantastic sittin' porches in the summer, too. I'll miss those evenings sipping on tall, sweaty glasses of iced tea and air thick with humidity and fireflies. *sigh*<br /><br />I love Iowa.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-33259562820544661152010-02-08T09:45:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.986-05:00The Night I Leave Iowa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRtc7aJ1_52RpciBoQ_PPc_sHEQpQCU_CzfkGSIWLCTC9pCUHg_fdPpPph8MYwPQcdp66JhuwQHHSL9CYI3jKMlruPRPsqb7GNw5MSUO5GY43YNw4CfPEw_Nqhj9agnpTPkGi4wxyIwY/s1600-h/iowa_life_changing.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435903558662857650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRtc7aJ1_52RpciBoQ_PPc_sHEQpQCU_CzfkGSIWLCTC9pCUHg_fdPpPph8MYwPQcdp66JhuwQHHSL9CYI3jKMlruPRPsqb7GNw5MSUO5GY43YNw4CfPEw_Nqhj9agnpTPkGi4wxyIwY/s320/iowa_life_changing.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 101px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 209px;" /></a><br />
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<li style="overflow: hidden;"><a class="song_play_btn" href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Abi+Tapia/track/Iowa" title="Iowa">Iowa</a> by <a href="http://www.ilike.com/artist/Abi+Tapia/Abi+Tapia">Abi Tapia</a></li>
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<script src="http://www.ilike.com/api/s?c=1&k=s01uwuXIpBf_VKLSAco8usWuQ%3D%3D">
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<br />
As soon as I knew I would be coming to Iowa for grad school, I immediately went in search of any and all songs that mention Iowa in them. Turns out there are quite a few -- an entire CD's worth. Some are obviously better than others, this one by <a href="http://www.abitapia.com/index.html">Abi Tapia</a> being one of the better ones.<br />
<br />
I decided when I got here that I wanted to have the kind of experience here that would make me cry when it came time to leave. After three years, I've been doing more crying here than ever before (and not in a good way), and I'm itching to move away ASAP in May...it makes me sad. I don't want to go out like that. Maybe it would be better if I stay through the summer and do all the Iowa things I want to do before I go -- like <a href="http://ragbrai.com/">RAGBRAI</a>, for instance. Or an adventure race with Laura. Then again, I should really try to get a job. Wouldn't it be great to be a park ranger in Alaska or Yosemite? What an adventure either of those would be! Even better to have a tenure-track job waiting for me in the fall? Well, I have time to decide. And no job offers yet, so it's not productive to imagine an entire path with any of that on it or worry about decisions that haven't even been presented as choices yet.<br />
<br />
But what a wild blue yonder ahead of me, no?</div>
KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-57653059017768154602010-02-05T16:50:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.036-05:00The Te of WritingOne of the reasons I wanted to start this blog is to un-block my writer's block. This is another one of those things that I attribute to my dissatisfaction with the social aspects of this program and the entrenched structural inequities and epistemic violence that runs rampant in the academy and that it is loathe to acknowledge in any meaningful way. (I'll go into this more directly in another post.) In addition to unclogging my writing pipes, I also know that I want to develop my writing so that it is performative and embodied. That is, I need my writing itself to <i>do</i> something (this is political, related to my research, and the "beef" I have with the academy that I alluded to above), and I need the body to be present in my writing. This last part might be more difficult, but these two goals are what I am focusing on this semester.<br />
<br />
To this end (returning to the writer's life generally, embodied writing more specifically), I have done two things:<br />
1. Added links to journaling/writing prompts. I hope to spend 30 minutes each morning doing some kind of freewriting.<br />
2. Enrolled in a course on ethnographic writing that is something of a workshop, complete with guided writing activities. Today was our first meeting. It went well.<br />
<br />
She asked us to first brainstorm on different sheets of paper the forms of writing we do, the kinds of texts we produce, and the audiences for whom we write. After the brainstorm, we paired off and discussed out writing processes, issues, concerns. Then we returned to the room for a bit of freewriting. Here is mine:<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Writing is an embodied experience for me. Though I often think too fast for my handwriting to keep up, I love the way writing by hand </span>feels<span style="font-style: italic;"> in comparison to typing. For our brainstorming activity, I switched writing implements three times: from gel pen to pencil to thin pen before I finally settled on the pencil after all. It felt the best on the single sheet that separated it from the conference table. The gel pen always feels good, but today it scratched across the surface in a way that didn't allow the gel to flow freely. The black ink didn't trail behind in the thick lines the way I knew it could on the softness of multiple sheets. And the thin pen. Oy. No matter how many sheets of paper separate its ball point from the hard backing surface, its ultra fine point always seems to scrape across the paper violently – like one false stroke will tear the page. And I never use it to write in cursive. I always use it to print. My printing is something closer to angular than flowing. It's my Deliberate font. But anyway, I ended up back with the pencil. After years and years of strict loyalty to pens all through college, PhD school has returned the pencil to my hand. Even though it's erasable, pencil makes me feel like I'm </span>really<span style="font-style: italic;"> writing. Maybe because I can hear it. It's like I can hear and feel the lead being transferred to the paper in ways you just can't with ink. Ink just stains. It seeps. I guess I can hear the thin pen too, but that's the sound of the roller scraping against its housing and the metal against the page, not the actual transfer of ink. Yeah, those gel pens feel smooth and look great, but they don't sound like pencil. Even when you have filled both sides of a piece of paper, the penciled paper </span>sounds<span style="font-style: italic;"> (read that as an active verb) – it makes sound, the way it has been warped by the writing. Gel pages are just soaked. And silent.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;">I admit, I couldn't help but channel an old poem I wrote in the mid 1990s (1995, I think). It's not too difficult to see how these two pieces are connected:</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><b>Opus</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">I like the sound of crispy pages -- </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">ones that have been <b> </b> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">written on</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">glued on</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">spilled on.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">I saunter-jaunt</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">through states of mind</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">with the turn of each </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">wobbly-edged page.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">Until I find a hungry one.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">My blood warps the pulp</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">with every</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">letter comma word:</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">paper lapping lovingly </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">from my veins.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">Watching capillarity</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;"> caterpillar over fibers,</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: normal;">I forget how to spel</span></div><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span><br />
<br />
I think this is an interesting first step down the path back to my writing self. I'm tapping what it is about writing that nourishes me. It's not necessarily the turn of a phrase or brilliantly capturing/expressing an idea, but the very act of writing itself -- putting pen to paper, self on the page. This is probably why Gloria Anzaldua's writing resonates in me and gives me the courage to even attempt to "write the thing that scares me" as my advisor so wants me to do. (Don't worry, I'll take up Gloria and Aimee and all the rest in future posts.) For now, I'm pleased to have put words on the page (screen). It's such a comfort to know that my writer's voice hasn't been silenced forever.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-20690122078131097782010-01-24T07:57:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:03.947-05:00On the Subject of IntentIt is very tempting to try to say what I plan to do with this blog. I will just say that I intend to take about 30 minutes every morning to write in this space, if only to write <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> every day. <br />
<br />
But since hardly anything ever turns out exactly the way we envision, I will take a taoist approach to this as well. Taoism, like cultural studies and performance studies, resists definition and canonization. I suspect that is why I am drawn to all three. In my life I've found that some of the best things have been the result of having no plan. And so it will be with this blog. <br />
<br />
And now my 30 minutes is up, so I will get on with the rest of my day. I have to set a time limit because I have a tendency to burn a lot of time pondering pondering pondering. Perhaps a time limit will make me more productive on this blog and in my day. I sure don't have a lot of writing to show for these 30 minutes, but that stands as a testament to how clogged up my writing arteries are.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-57575794863374476972010-01-22T06:07:00.001-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.032-05:00Morning Tao<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11XcOsb9Ttxz9fgfboiGyiDW0qa_36ibX4pAa-CHPhwwjH8EfSDoVPORf1A0WGbiZ1NLq85HXt7oi8D69-uiolgSh-ZugCOsQoFwKLTd9LnzcP70I4Z_QIjt_fbyeF6vIe5yORm5FF_8/s1600-h/morning+yoga.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11XcOsb9Ttxz9fgfboiGyiDW0qa_36ibX4pAa-CHPhwwjH8EfSDoVPORf1A0WGbiZ1NLq85HXt7oi8D69-uiolgSh-ZugCOsQoFwKLTd9LnzcP70I4Z_QIjt_fbyeF6vIe5yORm5FF_8/s320/morning+yoga.JPG" /></a></div>The last time I practiced with any purpose was in my last year or so living in New Mexico. Those were some wonderful times -- I'd read a verse from the Tao Te Ching and then ponder it for a 3-5 mile run. Actually, they weren't totally wonderful times. I found myself banging my head against walls at home and at work, and taoist meditation was the only way I could find peace through it all. Running through the desert provided some of my favorite memories of my last year or so in the southwest.<br />
<br />
And so it is again.<br />
<br />
I've managed to dig myself into yet another rut, trying to run out the clock until I can move away. Worse, I've gotten away from the physical activity that is so important to me and have reverted to my emotional-baking soda ways. Just like in the fridge, I soak up all the nasty flavors and aromas of what's going on around me -- which is just a schmancy way of saying that I have this terrible tendency to get wrapped up in whatever junk plagues my social world. So back to the taoism I go.<br />
<br />
Tao Te Ching, a text upon which taoism is based, translates roughly to "The Book of the Virtuous Way." More on that a little later, but by way of introducing my relationship with taoism, I will just say that left to my own devices, I tend toward the exact opposite of the Tao. Perhaps at the end of (or more accurately, <span style="font-style: italic;">through</span>) writing on this blog, I will find my virtuous way.<br />
<br />
So the morning routine I'd like to establish is this:<br />
<ol><li>wake up early</li>
<li>AM yoga</li>
<li>put the kettle on</li>
<li>sip a cup of green tea while I consult the <i>I Ching </i>and meditate on the day's lesson </li>
<li>go about the rest of my day</li>
</ol>I hope that by establishing this as a ritual I can prepare my bodymindspirit to meet the day in balance.<br />
<ol></ol>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-42889975114925831642010-01-20T14:08:00.000-06:002016-07-29T12:40:04.012-05:00Finding My WayI don't know what it was about 2009. I didn't get anything written. I didn't train for anything. I did manage to travel and lay groundwork for some things that are important to me, but in terms of material gains for my effort, I have very little to show for 2009.<br />
<br />
I ended the year angry at the world; I decided to abandon academia altogether for some kind of career change. It would come with a $10K/year pay cut (though still double what I make now), and that seemed ill-advised. Still, it was important to me just to free myself mentally from the dysfunctional existence of what it means to be a "serious scholar." (I started several blogs with writings on why life in the academy isn't for me, but they were so angry they seemed a terrible way to begin.) Suffice to say, I have renewed my commitment to the community college mission and the contribution I think I can make there. I'll leave it at that for now as I'm sure the shape of this will only become apparent as I write.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-75199444209951610722009-05-23T10:07:00.001-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.072-05:00My Mama is "One of Those," Part One<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This is very much a work in progress, but here is the first installment...</span></span><br /><br />I met this Filipina woman once, when I was working in DC at the tail-end of the Clinton administration. When I told her how my parents met, she replied, "Oh, she's one of those." Never before or since has anyone implicated my mother in such a way right to my face, but the comment sticks with me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdaWVoj3uI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/JHT9qrAmBQ8/s1600-h/Baloy+1+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 203px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdaWVoj3uI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/JHT9qrAmBQ8/s400/Baloy+1+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338835223081901794" border="0" /></a>I am spending the next month on Baloy Beach, which is just at the northwest edge of Olongapo. The whole beach is about a mile long and portions have been sold to Westerners, primarily Australians, Germans, and Swedes, all of whom (Filipinos included) earn income from tourism. Altogether, it's a chaotic jumble of relatively schwanky joints, shanties, and stuff in between, which is just as easily said about the entire country. Where I am staying is literally the in-between: next door is an eight story hotel, the Wild Orchid, and the neighboring property is occupied by my uncle Pitong’s in-laws. Baloy Beach is mostly owned by descendants of Old Man Baloy (my mom couldn’t remember his name). My great-grandmother on my mom’s dad’s side was Martina Baloy, and this is how we came to posess our portion of the beachfront.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdZWXV0l1I/AAAAAAAAA_Q/5lRAxu_utpA/s1600-h/zambalesmap2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdZWXV0l1I/AAAAAAAAA_Q/5lRAxu_utpA/s400/zambalesmap2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338834124028548946" border="0" /></a><br />Olongapo sits just outside the perimeter of a former US Naval Base (now Subic Bay Freeport Zone), where my mom waitressed in her early 20s (I was born at the end of the Vietnam War, and now you get the basic plot of my parents’ story). So I suspect, in that woman’s eyes, my mom is one of those Filipinas who married an American and moved on up, Jeffersons-style, to the US. I can’t argue too much with that, except that the woman leveling the accusation was what my mom would call a “showy” Filipino – lots of jewelry, heavily made up, expensive-looking clothing, and the type of Filipina whose family in the PI would probably have a houseboy or maid. Think Imelda Marcos knock-off. In my eyes, <span style="font-style: italic;">she </span>was “one of those.”<br /><br />By contrast, my mom and her family were of a class likely to be <span style="font-style: italic;">hired</span> as houseboys and maids. But she married her American sailor and moved to the States. She came back in the late nineties, built several rooms to rent on the beach property allotted to her, and hired a series of caretakers over the years (Rony is the current one) to help with the business.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdbEkXbprI/AAAAAAAAA_g/2rMITXnEtvI/s1600-h/Baloy+1+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdbEkXbprI/AAAAAAAAA_g/2rMITXnEtvI/s200/Baloy+1+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338836017310574258" border="0" /></a>When we arrived, she made him clean my room – scrub the shower, kitchenette, mop – things I felt guilty for having him do when I could easily have done them myself. To me, the space isn’t a hotel room but my home, for the next month anyway. Despite being relatively moneyed in the Philippines, in the US we were still the kind of family who would have been hired as maids. My dad was a mechanic, and my mom worked a series of service jobs when I was growing up. When my mom’s siblings stayed with us as they immigrated to the US, there was a time in high school when I had at least one relative working in every McDonald's in town.<br /><br />Since Rony didn’t seem to have much else to do anyway, I quit objecting and Mama and I sat in two plastic chairs on her porch while he cleaned my room.<br /><br />“Hey, that’s what I’m paying him for – he needs to do something to earn it,” my mom told me. “You know, when I was younger, we wanted to do our job – these people just want to get paid.” She grew more agitated. “Because we were hungry. We would go to our aunts and uncles and say, ‘Auntie, let me do that for you, and you give us fruit’ or candy or whatever. Oh, sometimes she had the Baby Ruth. You know this Baby Ruth?” Her fingers indicated what looked to me to be the fun size. “Anyway, not this ‘gimme gimme gimme.’ Oh, like Krissy!” and she slapped my arm with her fan and cackled with laughter. I admit, I could see the comparison coming. “Yeah, sometimes we would steal fruit from the fields, we were so hungry…”<br /><br />Mama grew up in a small <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barangay">barangay</a> called Pamatawan, about three miles from Baloy Beach. They did their laundry in a nearby river, and were told never to leave their panties drying on the line overnight “because that’s how you get pregnant.” When I visited in 1982, they were still pumping their drinking and cooking water from a well. The second of ten children, my mom was responsible for contributing to the household income when she was old enough to work, and helping to care for her younger siblings long before – and after – that.<br /><br />“In Pamatawan, we had one bedroom, two living rooms, and one kitchen. All open; no privacy. We sleep on woven straw mats on the floor. All of us. Until we’re old enough to go to work ... I started waitressing on base when I was 17, and all my money went to my family. Then I thought, ‘how long do I have to keep doing this? I give them all my money and there’s nothing left for me!’ So yeah, I was looking for a husband.”<br /><br />The first world feminist in me – the one who had been told by this very woman not to depend on a man for anything – cringed. She had been one of those.<br /><br />She abruptly changed topics. “I think I might fire Rony and bring back Beth.” I was aghast at how casually she pondered it. “Well he doesn’t do anything!”<br /><br />In his defense, I didn’t see that there was all that much to be done. She had no guests besides me, and save the few odd jobs that crop up here and there, there doesn’t appear to be a steady stream of daily activity, so I'm not sure what her actual beef is with this guy. Plus, wasn’t he counting on this as income? And she was just going fire him willy nilly?<br /><br />“Besides, they hate Beth.” She motioned toward the shanty that stands about twenty feet from her porch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdcnOl62hI/AAAAAAAAA_o/xcznpAVhB0U/s1600-h/Baloy+1+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/ShdcnOl62hI/AAAAAAAAA_o/xcznpAVhB0U/s200/Baloy+1+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338837712272808466" border="0" /></a>“Who are they again?”<br /><br />“They’re your Uncle Pitong’s in-laws. They built that after his wife went to rehab. But she was crazy before that.”<br /><br />“What’s she in rehab for?”<br /><br />“Drugs. And then she went crazy over the drugs.”<br /><br />“What was she addicted to?”<br /><br />“Oh I don’t know. Cocaine? Or something…”<br /><br />By the look of that shanty, I couldn’t imagine that she could afford to even <span style="font-style: italic;">try</span> coke, much less support a full-fledged addiction.<br /><br />“Was it meth?”<br /><br />“No, I don’t think so…” she said, tentatively.<br /><br />“Crack? Heroine? Opium?” My mother’s face fell a little as I rattled off a stream of addictive drugs.<br /><br />“I watch a lot of <a href="http://www.aetv.com/intervention/index.jsp"><span style="font-style: italic;">Intervention</span></a>,” I assured her.<br /><br />She called Rony over and asked him in Tagalog about hardcore drugs.<br /><br />“Ah, shabu. Tama.” She turned back to me, “Shabu is the Tagalog word for it, but I don’t know what it is.”<br /><br />Hop, skip, and a Google later: meth.<br /><br />“There’s no way I could have found that out by myself,” I tell her. "People would think I was looking to get some."<br /><br />Just then, it began to downpour – we are transitioning into monsoon season, after all. Though Mama has a covered porch, summer rains are hard enough to produce spray that wets everything under the eaves, so we went inside and started dinner.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tune in tomorrow for more on the microeconomy of the beach, my Mama the Capitalist, the fate of Rony's employment, and my evolving first-world <s>guilt</s> perspective on the whole shebang. </span></span>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-18361992686062994022009-05-09T15:59:00.005-05:002016-07-29T12:40:03.940-05:00Blame it on This Guy...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SgXxKrVfgMI/AAAAAAAAA-k/hXzr-qR44qE/s1600-h/tat.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SgXxKrVfgMI/AAAAAAAAA-k/hXzr-qR44qE/s400/tat.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333934499424075970" border="0" /></a><br />I got this little Boogie Man on my lunch break yesterday. My friend says he's like my Jiminy Cricket. I say if <span style="font-style: italic;">this guy</span> is supposed to function as my conscience, then I am going to get into a LOT of trouble.KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-23817860137683079292009-04-30T08:41:00.003-05:002016-07-29T12:40:03.966-05:00Paper-Writing Season<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.savagechickens.com/images/chickencommunication.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.savagechickens.com/images/chickencommunication.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Can't I just turn this in for my final project?<br /></div>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-76937248692104018992009-04-16T10:10:00.006-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.082-05:00Some New Leaves<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SedKi0fIsyI/AAAAAAAAA9U/t02YDW9QYmo/s1600-h/DSC00196.JPG"><img style="border: 1px solid rgb(136, 187, 34); margin: 0px auto 10px; padding: 4px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SedKi0fIsyI/AAAAAAAAA9U/t02YDW9QYmo/s400/DSC00196.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325307046454145826" border="0" /></a>From my front yard. I love Iowa.<br /></div>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-89995191752309339752009-04-13T05:16:00.001-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.105-05:00I Break Like the What?I can't say for certain, but I think this might be the first song anyone ever dedicated to me. Unfortunately, I'm equally uncertain as to whether or not he's making fun of me.<br /><br />Thanks, Mike.<br /><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NIIGSdi_JUU&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NIIGSdi_JUU&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-38463954041221186562009-04-05T17:25:00.009-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.003-05:00Holy Crap, I Can't Believe This Exists<span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_amtPerServingLabel"><span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_amtPerServingLabel"><span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_amtPerServingLabel"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wikihow.com/images/b/bc/Freaked_out_cartoon_character.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 297px;" src="http://www.wikihow.com/images/b/bc/Freaked_out_cartoon_character.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></span>Chocolatey goodness AND fat-free?!<br />And a serving is TWO bars?!<br /><br />I'm freaking out!<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bluebunny.com/images/product/86990.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 206px;" src="http://www.bluebunny.com/images/product/86990.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a></div> <table id="nutritionTable" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td style="font-weight: bold;" colspan="1" id="nutFacts"><span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_nutritionFactsLabel" style="font-size:180%;">Nutrition Facts</span> </td> <td colspan="1" align="left"> <br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" class="ltValue"> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_servingSizeLabel2" >Serving Size </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_servingSizeLabel"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >2 bars </span>(101g)</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" class="ltValue"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_servingPerContainerLabel">Servings Per Container </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_servingsPerContainerLabel">6</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <img id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_Img3" alt="" src="http://www.bluebunny.com/images/global/hr/blackdot.gif" style="border-width: 0px; height: 5px; width: 273px;" /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <!--DAILY VALUES--> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_amtPerServingLabel"> <table style="width: 296px; height: 298px;" id="dailyValues" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> <tbody><tr> <td colspan="2"> <strong>Amount Per Serving</strong> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <!--<img src="../../../../../images/global/hr/blackdot.gif" width="245" height="1" />--><br /></td><td colspan="2"><br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td class="ltValue"> Calories <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_caloryLabel">70</span> </td> <td class="rtValue" nowrap="nowrap"> Calories from Fat <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_caloriesFromFatLabel">0</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <img src="http://www.bluebunny.com/images/global/hr/blackdot.gif" id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_Img1" width="273" height="2" /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2" align="right"> <strong>% Daily Values<sup>**</sup></strong> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <!--<img src="../../../../../images/global/hr/blackdot.gif" width="260" height="1" />--> <br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl00_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Total Fat</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl00_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl00_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">0.5g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl00_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">1%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl01_spacer"> </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl01_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">Saturated Fat</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl01_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: normal;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl01_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">0g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl01_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">0%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl02_spacer"> </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl02_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">Trans Fat</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl02_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: normal;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl02_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">0g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl02_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl03_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Cholesterol</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl03_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">less than</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl03_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">0mg</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl03_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">0%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl04_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Sodium</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl04_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl04_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">90mg</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl04_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">4%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl05_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Potassium</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl05_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl05_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">210mg</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl05_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">6%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl06_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Total Carbohydrate</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl06_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl06_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">17g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl06_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">6%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl07_spacer"> </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl07_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">Dietary Fiber</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl07_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: normal;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl07_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">6g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl07_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">24%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl08_spacer"> </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl08_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">Sugars</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl08_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: normal;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl08_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">7g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl08_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl09_spacer"> </span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl09_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">Sorbitol</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl09_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: normal;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl09_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: normal;">2g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl09_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td nowrap="nowrap"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl10_fdaTextLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">Protein</span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl10_fdaLessThanLabel" style="font-weight: bold;"></span> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl10_fdaValueLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">4g</span> </td> <td align="right"> <span id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_productFdaRepeater_ctl10_fdaPercentLabel" style="font-weight: bold;">8%</span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"> <img id="ctl00_body_CtrlPLI1_Img2" src="http://www.bluebunny.com/images/global/hr/blackdot.gif" style="border-width: 0px; height: 3px; width: 273px;" /> </td> </tr> </tbody></table></span></td></tr></tbody></table>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-75289662040999228272009-04-01T07:50:00.000-05:002016-07-29T12:40:04.076-05:00I've Got a Can Opener...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SdJJ9LZKCVI/AAAAAAAAA8g/jldbksHqbtc/s1600-h/DSC00181.JPG"><img style="border: 1px solid rgb(136, 187, 34); margin: 0px auto 10px; padding: 4px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 473px; height: 354px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SdJJ9LZKCVI/AAAAAAAAA8g/jldbksHqbtc/s400/DSC00181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319395425257130322" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:85%;" >Easy Soysage Omelet with Black Bean and Corn Salsa</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">...and I'm not afraid to use it.<br /><br />No foolin'.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2860494635287401541.post-21838441803631663142009-03-31T09:02:00.003-05:002016-07-29T12:40:03.950-05:00Why I WILL Finish this *$&(#! Degree<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SdIis_KNYsI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/eFOknpnYk1M/s1600-h/tenure+pants.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9lDSj0HpCW0/SdIis_KNYsI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/eFOknpnYk1M/s400/tenure+pants.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319352266141819586" border="0" /></a>KrissyGo!http://www.blogger.com/profile/10203111892322949643noreply@blogger.com3