Happy....

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Snow Blanket!

I have long held tight to my theory that snow is nature's way of curling up in a blanket, that snow is God laying down a blanket and enouraging the world to slow down and savor the quiet. Maybe I can hold to this theory because my home doesn't get six feet of snow, maybe I hold on to this because at most a foot of snow and ice each winter, Welcome to the lower midwest... the weather kind of sucks. I think I've held to this theory the most because every animal pauses and hunkers down with friends and family or their favorite thing when it snows and waits for things to settle. Birds stop flying, squirrels settle in with their favorite nuts, dogs grab their favorite bones and cozy up by the fire or close to their master's feet. Everything stops. Everything cozy ups. Even wool blankets get softer.
All day long it has snowed soft clumps of cold cozy. I've had one of the best views of it all day long. It's a slow snow so it hasn't built up on streets but we've got a few inches built up on bushes and lawns. 
After the last two weeks, I've needed a good reason to curl up with a good book, some good jazz and my favorite pet and blanket.

I haven't listed a song in a while, so there's the song that's been stuck in my head as of late...
Georgia on My Mind - Ray Charles  (I kid you not, Ray Charles is a genius. If you somehow don't have this, go buy it on iTunes NOW. I'm serious.)

Georgia, Georgia,The whole day through,
Just an old sweet song,Keeps Georgia on my mind

Yeah, Georgia, Georgia,
A song of you, Comes as sweet and clear,
As moonlight through the pines
Other arms reach out to me, Other eyes smile tenderly,
Still in peaceful dreams I see, the road leads back to you
I said Georgia, Ooh Georgia, no peace I find
Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind

Other arms reach out to me, Other eyes smile tenderly
Still in peaceful dreams I see, The road leads back to you
Georgia, Georgia, No peace, no peace I find, Just this old, sweet song
Keeps Georgia on my mind
I said just an old sweet song,
Keeps Georgia on my mind

You're busy wasting life...

My iPod is on another Hanson kick... we're up to ten Hanson songs in a row. I would take this as a sign that I have too much Hanson for a healthy shuffle balance, but it's not true. I'll go for days where I wouldn't hear a Hanson song unless I qued it up. Maybe my shuffle just sucks... either way the play list sounds awesome: Believe, Tearing It Down, Leave the Light On, Strong Enough to Break, I've Been Down, Blue Sky, Go, Got a Hold on Me, I Am, Use Me Up, My Own Sweet Time... I'm scared to find out what's next...

Little Victories

All the more lately... I am reminded of the fact that the Lord will provide and that I am ok.

She's gone

That does it. My car is dead. She's dead and about to be gone. I'm not a fan. Now was not the time for her to die. Not at all.

Critic

Life threw me some curve balls and I promptly set about over analyzing everything. A song about the circus became a song about life. A poem about a sunset became a poem about how people screw you over; a picture of an island became an isolationist movement. I want nothing more at this point than to listen to a song and not try to dissect it. I don't know that I have any music that doesn't have enough depth to it that I can't tear into it... wait... I've got some Hello Goodbye... that should be superficial enough. That’s like trying to bite in to a concrete wall of nothing.

Ask Rudolph and he won't steer you wrong

I am decidedly not in the holiday mood.  I put on a really good front. There's garland and candy canes at my desk, there's a Christmas tree in my living room and a Christmas villiage burried in my parent's basement. Somehow, in all of the decoration, I didn't wind up listening to too much Christmas music and music can seriously change your mood.
Life threw some serious curve balls at me this weekend and I have to find some way to balance back out. Christmas is among the least of my concerns right now. Between my car falling apart and apartment leases running out, I just don't see a whole lot of time for Christmas. Still everyone in my office seems to be feeling at least some of the spirit. Hopefully that will rub off of them and on to me just enough to feel like I had a Christmas this year.
Maybe I wont need luck. Maybe, just a little Snowed In and a little Josh Groban and I'll be in the mood. Just keep the misletoe far far away from me.

Quiet

I left my headphones at home. The silence is deafening. Mostly because as much as I wish it were, it's not actually silent. There's enough ambient noise here to drive me insane. Oh where are my headphones!

Unproductive

Today was an unproductive day. However, I have decided that it's high time for me to start working out more often. I'm so sore from the workout yesterday, but it's a good feeling. I've realized that I miss this feeling. I used to get this feeling every day while I was walking home from school or hiking across campus. Ever since I've been back in town I can't say that I've really felt the burn of pushing myself. I'm looking forward to feeling the burn again.

Song for the day : Kings of Convenience -Boat Behind

Book stores and pens

After two hours and selecting 8 novels I realized I hadn't picked up a single gift for anyone at the book store last night. So I headed off to the journal corner to pick up one for a gift. The funny thing is the thing I am most excited about getting was the one thing I keep telling people I don't want; another journal. I think I figured out why I'm excited and why I don't want one from someone else.
Journals are supposed to suit the person who's writing them. Journals I've received from other people suit them or suit their idea of me but they don't quite hit the mark. The one I picked up last night, soft green leather, with an imprinted Celtic cross, is me to a tee. The modern art stained glass journal I received when I was 21 was too much of a mess, the flower print I received when I was 19 was too large and imposing.
The last time I bought a journal for my self was the summer after my senior year, I was 18. I stared at a copy of that exact journal -one journal I never thought I'd see again- and, although I was on the phone with a friend, I gasped, stopped, and lost myself in the emotion I poured into that book. I was faced with the worst question. Do I buy a copy of that journal (the original was filled and then destroyed -burned, I believe- at least three years ago) and rewrite the year I want so badly to forget? Do I rewrite it with renewed perspective? Or - possibly the healthiest alternative - do I leave the journal I loved for one that I'll love now and write myself away from the past and in to my future? I must have asked the question aloud because my friend answered. "Get a new one. Move on. I'm trying to move on too. We don't need to relive that... again."
So I've got a new green leather journal. It's nice, but approachable. It suits me. I got my friend a journal too. It's striped, and more casual. It suits her. Hopefully, it suits all of her and not just my perception of her, but chances are when she finds the journal section of her book store she'll find one better.
 
My Heart - Paramore
I am finding out that maybe I was wrong/ That I've fallen down and I can't do this alone/ Stay with me/ This is what I need please
Sing us a song and we'll sing it back to you/ We could sing our own but what would it be without you
I am nothing now/ and it's been so long/ since I've heard a sound, the sound of my only hope/ This time I will be listening.
Sing us a song and we'll sing it back to you/ We could sing our own but what would it be without you
This heart, it beats it beats for only you/ This heart it beats, beats for only you. /This heart it beats, beats for only you./ My heart is yours. /This heart it beats, beats for only you./ My heart is yours.

Ever since I put your picture in a frame

A friend sent me a few pictures yesterday and I was struck by just what makes a great photo. There are pictures that are fantastic -true works of art- and there are the pictures that we cling to and would run back into a burning building for - these pictures rarely are worthy of art galleries. 
We tend to forget the beauty of pictures and the value of letters and music thanks to the instant access over the internet. 
But nothing has made me feel more valued or more loved than to know that my friends have pictures of us all in a frame, that they've hung on to hand written letters and that they dance to the songs we've shared. The letters aren't well written, the pictures are pretty bad, the songs are corny.

Picture in a Frame - Tom Waits
Sun come up it was blue and gold
Sun come up it was blue and gold
Sun come up it was blue and gold
ever since I put your picture
in a frame.

I come calling in my Sunday best
I come calling in my Sunday best
I come calling in my Sunday best
ever since I put your picture
in a frame

I'm gonna love you
till the wheels come off
oh yea

I love you baby and I always will
I love you baby and I always will
I love you baby and I always will
ever since I put your picture
in a frame

Re-evaluating

It's the end of the year, and friends and I have been talking. This seems to be the best time to slough off the old skin and bad relationships. All year long we make excuses and we take a load of crap from "friends" just because. At a certain point you have to figure out if it's a trend for that person, and if it's worth it to take the excuse. Maybe it's in the spirit of a new years resolution; maybe it's in the spirit of not wasting money on a gift for a person you won't talk to in a week, maybe it's in the spirit of preserving your own sanity. Whatever the nature of actually evaluating your friendships if we all did it more often maybe we wouldn't wind up being so hurt so often, and maybe we'd be better friends ourselves.

In the spirit of that, and some pretty bitter slaps in the face yesterday, the song for the day...
On My Way - Ingram Hill
I don't want your old letters, I don't want to be friends
I've had enough to last a life time, and I don't want to go again,
I don't have to find a reason, and I don't have to answer why,
Doesn't matter who is wrong here, I just want to see you cry.
On my way, I'll take the sunshine, on my way I'll take your dreams
On my way I'll say I'm sorry to no one but me.
So let your family know I'm leaving, lie to your girlfriends that you're well
Call and leave a crying message, I want to know it hurts like hell
On my way I'll take the sunshine, on my way I'll take your dreams
On my way I'll say I'm sorry to no one but me.
On my way, I'll be my own man, and I'll only please myself,
On my way, my pride's the only feeling I've got left.

Disappointing.

Ok... so the walk was disappointing. Small. Cold. But it was a good day.
The Christmas tree went up. I cleaned most of the house. Drew did dishes and  Von was all around awesome. I have to say, it was a great day with Von. She's been a blessing. It's good to know she's got my back, even when the rest of the world seems to have abandoned me. She's awesome.

And we're walking...

*Deep breath*  The second walk I've hosted will be starting in just under 2 hours. I am pretty well prepared, and have a hope -with reason to believe- that it will be at least twice as good as the last one. I am still nervous as hell.  I'm winging the speech. I'm assuming everyone who's coming has done this before. I'm gonna wing it. I'm good with words and making it up on the spot. Still I can't help but think that this is a mistake.
It's too late for anything else now.

Well, here it goes. If you're in the St. Louis area... come on over to the arch at 2. We'll start walking at 2:30. We'll meet at the corner of Market and Memorial.

Nerd love

Last night on the way over to my parents house for a hockey game and the first night of Hanukkah, my brother commented on a rather strange train of thought "I love the juxtaposition of loquacious and bombastic" and proceeded to refer to the OED. I paused, it was a brief pause. And all I could say before I launched in to a monologue about how much I love the irony of the word bombastic was "You have no idea how much nerd love I have for you right now for assuming I would know what you mean by referring to the OED". Trust me, I knew what he was referring. OED = Oxford English Dictionary. The OED schools the Merriam-Webster dictionary. The OED is a book of words. It's the story of every word in the English language. It's the end all of dictionaries.  And I want one. I would all but die for one. I've wanted one since I heard of it, and craved one since I've seen one and held volumes of it in my hand. Nothing quite replaces the feel of the soft leather binding, the gold trimmed onion skin paper, and knowledge of generations. Everyone who's met me or talked to me in December for the last five years -at least- knows that what I really want for Christmas is an OED. I doubt I'll own one for a long long time. You see the OED costs about $1,000. No matter how you dice that, it's the down payment on a car, a large chunk of student loans, or funds to buy a new wardrobe. It's hard to justify a thousand dollars on a dictionary. But, if you ever feel like you want to get me the best Christmas / Hanukkah present ever, drop a few bucks on a OED.

Happy Hanukkah guys. Believe me if the chicken my brother made is any indication, the Lord will be providing some awesome this year.

Dry.

The only bad thing about winter is that heaters dry out the air.  Hard core. Static has never been this bad. Add to that the freezing temperatures, and as my boss put it today "it feels like your skin is bein pulled off".

Shelter - Sherwood
Years spent out in the rain,
Thrown in the mud, Come dry us again
We've got nothing to show,
No where to go, Give shelter again
Throats are dry, Let us sing
Bones are cold, Bring us heat
Mountains high, Let us dream
Call us homeward again.

Muggy.

Why is it everyone is willing to buy me or sell me a coffee mug but no coffee? This is not fair. Well, I mean... it's not unfair... but... come on.

Blustery Blues or Joyful Jazz?

So the cold front moved in to the country. We really have to do something about this weather immigration from Canada.
I started my annual game of "Is that ice?" this morning. It's a game where as you walk you have to decide if that section of concrete is covered with ice or not. Sometimes you can tell, sometimes you don't know until you've fallen flat on your butt. If you stay standing you win. Fall you lose. Easy enough. So far, I'm winning. My boss is losing. (HA!)
Winter seems to bring me into my more obscure passions in music. I've put aside the rock in favor of classical, jazz and blues and Gregorian chants. It always starts off so innocently, a Bing Crosby movie. The next thing you know I've got Nina Simone and Diana Krall singing in the morning, The Irish Tenors and Vivaldi in the afternoon, and Tom Waits and Louis Armstrong in the evening.
Somehow this transition makes it a lot easier to deal with the fact that I'm freezing and stressed... 
hmm all I hear when I hear "stressed" is the strained staccato of the trumpet in Tom Waits "Midnight Lullaby"
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.
You can burn the midnight oil with me
As long as you will
Stare out at the moon
Upon the windowsill, and dream...

Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Hush-a bye my baby, no need to be crying.
There's dew drops on the window sill,
Gumdrops in your head
Slipping into dream land,
You're nodding your head, so dream...

Dream of West Virginia, or of the British Isles
'Cause when you are dreaming,
You see for miles and miles.
When you are much older, remember when we sat
At midnight on the windowsill,
And had this little chat
And dream, come on and dream,
Come on and dream, and dream, and dream.

It's beginning to feel a lot like...

winter.
It's a blustery 30 degrees outside. WINDY.  and COLD.
I sit relatively warm, in my office with a giant freaking window and can watch the snow build up while I'm supposed to be working. It's quite the view. Grey sky over grey buildings and tiny white specs like the world's reception has gone fuzzy. I'm sure every other adult in the office is lamenting what traffic will be, and is complaining about the dismal sky. 
For me though, this is what I live for.

I am reminded of my years in college and the drive across the state to get up north to Northwest Missouri State. There are tons of nearly deserted two lane highways that take you through small towns, over hills and wind you around farms. I almost always found a way to make this drive at night. I could plan to leave home at 6 am and wouldn't wind up making it out the door until sunset. Countless times I managed to leave St. Louis just barely in time to make it to my first class the next day. My favorite drive was on a January evening. I was the only car on the road for miles and in the deep dark of a Missouri night it snowed heavy lumpy snow. 
There is a sense of quiet peace when it snows, as if the world collectively grabs the blankets and cuddles up with a cup of hot coco and a good book or turns on the radio for quiet session of the Prairie Home Companion.
Song for the day: At Christmas (you guessed it) Hanson.
"Snow's falling down as you step out of your car
Present in you arms and you've traveled far
Someone opens the door with a smile on their face
And you know you've come to the right place

Family nestled by the fire
Christmas hopes to inspire
Loved ones by your side
You know you'll kiss your babies goodnight..."

Is it January, yet?

There's a deep breath before the holidays. A moment where every thing rushes in on you and the whirlwind surrounds every tiny project that you need to complete before the end of the year. A deep breath in. And the world holds its breath.

That's where I am. I'm in the middle of running to prepare, running to figure out how to make it all work. And now I've done all I can and I just have to wait. I have to just pause and wait for the calendar to catch up with me and tell me if it will fall into place. I'm not sure how it will. The schedules are so busy. The deadlines at work and due dates on bills and Christmas presents just don't want to work together.

That is -I think - the magic of the holidays, the world starts breathing again. You get to exhale. And if it worked, fantastic! If it fell apart, well, you have a story to tell next year when it does work. But regardless, we're breathing.

There's so much going on that to start to tell the details of any one thing would invite the world of crazy in on me, but there's a line in Sherwood's song "Not Gonna Love" that goes "I am a favorite in a fight that I can't win, so every morning I take another on the chin, but I never know what round I'm in." And that is my theme for the week.

Jack Frost nipping at your nose

What is it about cold that actually hurts when it hits you? I'm sure there's a scientific rational for it. I'm sure.

My office is pretty much constantly cold. The front door doesn't seal all the way, so there is a draft in the foyer, and the only thing that seperates the foyer from me is a window... a sliding window with no insulation. It's drafty and cold. This I've grown accustomed to. I wear an extra jacket at pretty much all times. I have a blanket I curl up in, my boss is going to get  me space heater for Christmas, the matienance guys are looking at fixing the door (also a Christmas pressent?) This cold doesn't bother me that much any more. 
Walking into the hallway, though, there was a slight breeze of cool air and I felt every inch of my body twich in pain. The cold, the air, sent chills through me that literally hurt. I wanted to drop to the floor right then and curl into a ball to warm up.  That would have been completely pointless, because the breeze would continue to chill me.

I think that it has to do with the fact that cold is just the absence of heat.  Cold is the absence. And absence hurts.

Oh scientifically the pain is due to the contraction of blood vessals to control the flow of blood to your skin to maintain a constant central body heat... 

But the lingering feeling of loss that comes with that chill, that's from the absence.

My Own Sweet Time - Hanson (someday I'll pull out a song not Hanson... but my ipod has decided the first 16 songs of this "Shuffle All Songs" play list should be Hanson... well ok then.)

Hello, goodbye my friend
Feels like the start all over again
But I'd rather not pretend
There aren't things still left to mend
Somebody break my fall
I'm slipping down all over again

I'd do it all over
Taking my own sweet time
I may make it slower
But I'm taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet...

Tell me where I begin
You can't deny what's already been
I won't break but I can bend
Shaping the scars that I can't mend
Feel your fingers around my throat
There's nothing but bones beneath my skin
Somebody break my fall
I'm slipping down all over again

I'd do it all over
Taking my own sweet time
I may make it slower
But I'm taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet...

I'd do it all over
Taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet time
I'd do it all over again, my friend

Say my friend
You know I'd do it all over again...
Again

Hello, goodbye my friend
Until we start all over again
Somebody break my fall
I'm slipping down all over again

I'd do it all over
Taking my own sweet time
I may make it slower
But I'm taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet...

I'd do it all over
Taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet...
I may make it slower
But i'm taking my own sweet time
I'm taking my own sweet time
Over again
Ahhh do it all over
Hello goodbye my friend
Until we start all over...
Start all over again
Say do it all over again
Do it all over
Hello goodbye my friend
Until we start all over
Start all over
Oh i'll do it all over again
You know i'd do it all over again

Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do(until it fades)

In Memoriam

It's finally starting to feel like Christmas... and I'm loving that. It's snowing as I type this. I got wrapped up in the Gaither Vocal Band last night, and in Bing Crosby's "White Christmas". If this isn't Christmas I don't know what is. 
I'm headed back to my bed tonight and while not living with my parents is a boon, I'm not really looking forward to it. The parent's are back from Nebraska, and I'm headed by to my apartment after watching the dogs all week. It's been a blast and I really, really, (no seriously, I really mean it, really) like living by my self. I like being able to watch whatever I want with out comment from a roommate or to be able to make whatever I want for dinner, with no regard to anyone else, and I love not being aware of anyone else's bed time.

Someday I'll be on my own... someday...

In Memoriam - Everybody Else
Took a sip from a bottle of orange soda

Suddenly you were back
On my bike years ago
While sharing the camera
You passed by, so quickly

I remember you
So remember me
As i was back then
In my ripped blue jeans
Moments ago
It seems to me
That we were just kids
In a memory

I still see the blue, sunken barge
Down by the shore and i
Can taste the blackberry juice on our fingers
But there’s an echo of careless, callow footsteps
That run by so quickly

I remember you
So remember me
As i was back then
In my ripped blue jeans
Moments ago
It seems to me
That we were just kids in a memory
In a memory

It feels good to forget how wonderful it was
In the noise of a crowd
But sometimes cars in the night
Sound like the ocean and
Then i swear
I'm back there
Seems so real
It disappears

I remember you
So remember me
As i was back then
In my ripped blue jeans
Moments ago
It seems to me that we were just kids in a memory
Moments ago
It seems to me
That we were just kids
In a memory
Moments ago
It seems to me
That we were just kids in a memory
In a memory
In a memory

So I claim this post for Dec 5th. I haven't been to bed so I think it still counts although it's clearly the 6th.  I sit here at the computer surrounded by literature, published and not, medieval and modern, epic and brief. I can't think of anything more fitting for this day. It was a day I spent trying to avoid life at most any cost save a visit from my brother. The notion of sleeping, of crashing in bed for long after the time that I woke was one I wanted to savor. Now I find myself not wanting to find the bed because it will make this short week all the closer to ending. So I've surrounded myself in literature to keep my mind entertained as my body starts to cry for the bed.

It's a bittersweet balance.

Song of the day: Make It Through - Sherwood


I know exactly where you are
So I don't strain to see your light shine in the dark
But I didn't know, the winter cold would leave us moving so slow
And will summer bring the feeling back to our toes?
Until it does can I just make it through?

Cause I don't know where I've gone wrong
And I can't find where I belong without you
Make it through
Cause I don't know where I've gone wrong
And I can't find where I belong without you

I'll weave the roads on every map
Into a cord that wraps you up and pulls you back
Cause I didn't know, the winter cold would leave us moving so slow
And will summer bring the feeling back to our toes?
Until it does can I just make it through?

Cause I don't know where I've gone wrong
And I can't find where I belong without you
Make it through
Cause I don't know where I've gone wrong
And I can't find where I belong
Oh I can't find where I belong, without you

Unrequited Love...

So I've mentioned my writing to a few of my friends... and I've been able to dance around really sharing much so I thought today would be a pretty fitting day to throw a few more out there, so they can tell me I'm awesome and mean it... :) I mean... they can tell me what they think... this means you...honestly.

Unlucky Fates-
We sit at mahogany tables
gods and goddesses circle above
Chilled to the core
From the wind of their golden wings.
Whispers of wit and wine settle into our ears
Entertaining thoughts of fire places and knightly battles
Too close to Olympia yet dying in Hades
We lay in the cradle of demigods
with manure in our beds.

Hello - Goodbye
The thought crosses my mind that you're gone
But you infiltrated every thing
All the little things
Highways, songs, notebooks
Your voice, your name
Just the same as the last day,
Just the same as the first day
The moment you said hello
I was looking for goodbye.
People generally find what they're looking for
So I'll give you back your blanket
And give me back my games
Give me the goodbye I've wanted and end it.

Card Exchange
It's not that we're dying...
It's that you're not trying.

The Christmas card family is
Melting in the fireplace
While he sits there watching her
Kissing the lips on a strangers face.
Desperate to hear a word from the other side of the table
As if a breath could make her a happy wife
He leaps at the sound of her breathing and if he's able
He clings to her lips as she breathes her way out of his life.

Rain in Iowa
Rain drops fall slow but steady
Wise men say they'll fall all evening
That they're falling over you already
The world cries for you leaving.

Still I hold on to your jacket
As though you'll come for it
I curl up in our bed under heavy blankets
Smother out the pain forsaking comfort.

Friends bring over coffee cake
And summer sausage casseroles to feed no one.
So with Nature, I cry tears to fill your lake
I am left to mourn now to Avalon you've gone.

Otherside of the World...

It's been a while since I've cried.  Really cried, cried so hard I couldn't breathe.
It's been a while since I've laughed. Really laughed, laughed so hard I hurt.
It's been a while since I've relaxed. Really relaxed, relaxed so much I melted.
It's been a while since I've been mad. Really mad, mad enough to punch.

It's been a while since I've felt. I've been pretty wrapped up in a state of constant stress and annoyance for well over a month now. Thanksgiving (at work and at home) is always loaded down with expectations and stress. It is not my holiday. It is awkward and uncomfortable. It's a big giagantic Sunday dinner with added demands and family drama.
So I've been a bit numb to pretty much anything other than this stress until last night.
I got home to find my brother there. I had been looking forward to a night alone, to embrace my own dorkiness and an early bed time.  I went straight from agrivated to mad. 
We wound up watching the Muppets and I laughed on of those full body laughs.
He left and I wound up checking my voice mail and I stumbled on a concert call from a friend... and I cried. Blubbering waste of energy cry.
And then I took a deep breath and relaxed. Curled up on the bed and read Beowulf.

I haven't had a night that emotionally draining and fulfilling since October.

So todays song, is the song from the concert call, Song To Sing - Hanson.
Goodbye four leaf clovers
Hello gone awry
Don't cry the fight ain't over
Unless you let it pass you by

I'm looking for a song to sing
I'm looking for a friend to borrow
I'm looking for my radio
So I might find a heart to follow
I've never been just longing for your loving
I've never been just wearing down to nothing
I've never been just looking for a reason
So that maybe you'd be thinking of me

All that I have found in reason
Is reason just to not believe
When all that you're left is treason
It's treason just to let it be

I'm looking for a song to sing
I'm looking for a friend to borrow
I'm looking for my radio
So I might find a heart to follow
I've never been just longing for your loving
I've never been just wearing down to nothing
I've never been just looking for a reason
So that maybe you'd be thinking of me

Blue yonder dreams and second hand shoes
You're so far gone that you live to close
And it's too late to go home all alone
You're the tar in that old cigar
And the worn out cable on a cable car
And you're too tired to admit you've got to chose

I'm looking for a song to sing
I'm looking for a friend to borrow
I'm looking for my radio
So I might find a heart to follow
I've never been just longing for your loving
I've never been just wearing down to nothing
I've never been just looking for a reason
So that maybe you'd be thinking of me

Tiny pick me ups

Long and tough day... and it was all made better by a Werther's Orginal. Mmm a small moment to breathe and enjoy the tiny candy I forgot I had in my desk.

"You can't buy a can of spam with a metaphore"- SA

Even on World AIDS Day, I was finding the hope for and the encouragement for action to change the problems of AIDS and poverty in Africa hard to find. Oh, people were all about the talk, but not the walk. Disgruntled and a little discouraged (but not defeated, never defeated) I wandered into my living room and flipped on the Colbert Report. He had, as his guest, Sherman Alexie.
For those of you who aren't familiar, Sherman Alexie is a Native American (Spokane/Coeur d'Alene) writer who's written tons of awesome books. He gives glimpses into what it means to be a Native today, and how that culture struggles to survive in today’s technological fast paced world. He is the voice to the opportunity cost of progress.

I suggest taking a brief moment out of your day to check out either Alexie’s site or his appearance on Colbert. Never before have I seen Colbert bested, close, but never bested, until last night.

Last night, Alexie stood up for culture, the culture of story telling, specifically. I'm not talking about sitting around a fire and telling stories, we're talking about a community joining together to embrace a story, people stopping to savor a book, or a poem, or well written newspaper. There was a time where -believe it or not- people would get together with their friends and share poems and stories they'd written as a popular form of entertainment. There was a time when a poet was respected, when our culture might not have kept every writer fed but it was no disgrace to choose the written word for a life plan. That same culture demanded that the writers know how to write, that they be well read, that they stuck to some basic rules of grammar, that they didn't spell "car corner" "kar Korna". That culture which was a common thread between all cultures -all Native tribes, English, French, Chinese, Russian, German, Indian, Swahili- is in a state of decline and on the verge of being lost to a world of poorly written 140 character posts.

Tell me how much can be said in 140 characters and spaces or less. Tell me how long those words stay with you. Tell me everyone in your neighborhood identifies with those words. Tell me you discuss a blog over coffee. Tell me a zest for words and a flourish to a story can be loved and not mocked as melodramatic. Tell me English majors aren't the only ones who don't laugh a poetic venture. Tell me Alexie isn't fighting a losing battle.


Song for the day: Skywatcher by Xanadu
And the sun sets over the trees,
and the clouds roll in before dark
The skywatchers shows them all
as the darkness comes on in. Right on in.
The stars they fill the sky
The moons they fill his eyes
He is sitting in the medow
Watching the satelights
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
Watching the sky falling away
Watching the clouds move on for another day
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
The sky it turns its colors
For the night is setting in
Sky watcher takes his place
For his heart is lost in space
People never knew what he does
They never did
They just laugh and call him names
Until the sky began to rain
You see, he knew there was something more
He knew they wouldn't understand
Never had a normal life to love
Received his life from the sky above
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher
Watching the sky falling away
Watching the clouds move on for another day
He's the sky watcher
He's the sky watcher

World AIDS Day...

"To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world".




Ah! December first! My day to breathe! Yes, November is over! Now to settle in for Hanukah and Christmas and the winter solstice!

Wait... December first... isn't there something going on today?

*think think think*

World AIDS Day! Duh!



All year long -I can honestly say that- I have been walking for AIDS treatment. I was walking in Tulsa in May, in St. Louis in July, in Tulsa, St. Louis and Minneapolis in October. I've been buying shirts and trinkets and making donations across the board all year long and today the whole world is going to join this quest! How exciting! How hopeful!

*Sigh*

There's still more work to do.



I woke up this morning and after a brief fight with my alarm clock, I though "hmm...December 1st... AIDS Day... and I'm hosting a walk in two weeks... two weeks... CRAP!"

I hadn't sent in final information about location and times to takethewalk.net. I hadn't started telling ANYONE about the walk. Two weeks and I've done close to nothing. I'd been so wrapped up in Thanksgiving preparations for work and family and trying to breathe and stay sane that I completely forgot that I had something planned. "I'll get to it later" I kept thinking. No, I didn't.



I set straight away to sending out the information needed.

And, so long as the fates are with me, I'll be hosting a Walk under the St. Louis Arch Dec 13th at 2pm.

But the fear of yet another tiny ineffective walk is weighing on me. I've hosted a walk before... we had six walkers, myself included. Granted it was JULY, and it was HOT, and HUMID. But I vowed then that the next one would be better.

But I haven't set this up well at all.

While I was feeling a bit like a colossal let down, a friend had a round about way of picking me up. (Thanks Michelle.) Somewhere along her own laments, I was reminded of an old quote...so old I don't have the slightest clue who said it. "To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world".



I may, in fact, be on the path to yet another tiny walk, and I may yet again feel as though I've done virtually nothing for this cause, but even if there's only two walkers, we've helped some one else. We've impacted the life of someone else, we may even save. We may actually be the hope for life for someone. That's no small thing. Even if that's all that I can ever claim to have done, I've walked a mile, I've been the action of hope. I may never physically comfort a child dying of aids, or treat an ailing mother, but I've taken some action to change their fate.



To quote Taylor Hanson: "You just have to keep going. So there weren't hundreds of people. You still made a difference. You're still making a change: keep going, keep learning, keep fighting, keep walking. Then make the next mile better, and walk another."


So today's song as odd as it is...

Hope It Comes Soon - Hanson.
Well I hope it comes now, Well I hope it comes soon,
Well, I think it’s about time I stopped waiting for you.

You know, there’s no where else to pass the buck, this time.
We run every time it’s getting rough,
cause there’s no where to hide,
it’s hard just making it by,
but I’m tired of toeing the line.

Feels like a change is gonna come. Feels like a change is gonna come.
Well I hope it comes now,
Well I hope it comes soon,
Well, I think it’s about time I stopped waiting for you.
Well I hope it comes now,
Well I hope it comes soon,
Well, I think it’s about time feels like change is coming.
Well I hope it comes soon.

Step back look at where we’ve ended up this time.
Are you satisfied getting by with just enough
or are you ready to start trying?
Somehow we’ve been making it by,
but I’m tried of toeing the line.
Feels like a change is gonna come. Feels like a change is gonna come.
Well I hope it comes now,
Well I hope it comes soon,
Well, I think it’s about time I stopped waiting for you.
Well I hope it comes now,
Well I hope it comes soon,
Well, I think it’s about time.

Feels like change is coming soon.
Well I hope it comes soon.
I’m not waiting for you.
Feels like a change is gonna come.
Feels like a change is gonna come.
I hope a change is gonna come,
what you gonna do?
I hope it comes soon;
I’m not waiting for you.

It's how late?

It's past two am. I'm still up and I have to be at work in less than four hours. I did this yesterday too... I will burn out at some point right? Right...
But I'm up all night reading other people's writing and I've realized that I haven't touched my own. There in lies the problem with being a writer... I will eventually have to edit my own work.