While observing a writing workshop-the kids had several tasks to choose from. One was to write a poem by comparing a feeling to an object. In the classroom, I saw a box marked, "Investigation" so I decided to put that word into a poem.
Stellar Investigations: Lava Lamp
Blobs and bubbles continually
breaking off from the larger mass
going predictably up.
Though various in size and speed
they go
to a predicatable top.
Despite all this
if you keep the lamp
plugged in too long
it will burn out.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Another day in paradise
I'm back on facebook, and my motives were unpure. I will not discuss them publicly. We will just agree that I am working on all that.
It's fun though. Like many of us who are a product of a twitter based social system, I know that every thought I have is completely fascinating. I also know enough that every thought I have should not be let out of my head, or chaos will ensue. So between my engaging thoughts and questionable social filter, I find some ways to enjoy the facebook.
It gives me something to do when I'm not texting.
This morning, on Yahoo, I read an article about a teacher who got suspended with pay because though she did not give the name of her school, basically dogged at least a few of her students on her blog. (Note: My students are awesome! I love my job! Thank you State of Idaho!) Of course we have heard of such things happening before. It's something to think about as I begin to explore these public kinds of writing, like this blog.
My mother once told me not to write anything down unless I wanted the whole world to read it. This was before computers, where the only real danger was that my note might get into the hands of the principal.
Now it might end up in the Japaneese Embassy for all I know.
There's something to be said for integrity here, maybe if I am cool with how I am and how I live, then things will end up okay. Sounds awesome. I have learned that is not true actually, and the person with a lie more appropriate than the truth sometimes wins. Or do they? What's winning?
I have not completed my coffee ritutal, which has affected my ability to compose complete sentences.
Onward.
It's fun though. Like many of us who are a product of a twitter based social system, I know that every thought I have is completely fascinating. I also know enough that every thought I have should not be let out of my head, or chaos will ensue. So between my engaging thoughts and questionable social filter, I find some ways to enjoy the facebook.
It gives me something to do when I'm not texting.
This morning, on Yahoo, I read an article about a teacher who got suspended with pay because though she did not give the name of her school, basically dogged at least a few of her students on her blog. (Note: My students are awesome! I love my job! Thank you State of Idaho!) Of course we have heard of such things happening before. It's something to think about as I begin to explore these public kinds of writing, like this blog.
My mother once told me not to write anything down unless I wanted the whole world to read it. This was before computers, where the only real danger was that my note might get into the hands of the principal.
Now it might end up in the Japaneese Embassy for all I know.
There's something to be said for integrity here, maybe if I am cool with how I am and how I live, then things will end up okay. Sounds awesome. I have learned that is not true actually, and the person with a lie more appropriate than the truth sometimes wins. Or do they? What's winning?
I have not completed my coffee ritutal, which has affected my ability to compose complete sentences.
Onward.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Happened and happening
First of all, go to www.missingpiecegroup.com and listen to Waylon Jennings: The music inside. It's a tribute album to Waylon Jennings with various artists and you can listen to the whole thing for free. Shooter Jennings does an inspiring and poignant rendition of Belle of the Ball.
Since I am the media vein, the best radio station in the world is 91.9 WNRN. You can also listen to it online, but it's back East and therefore 3 hours earlier on all the programming than it says in their programming schedule. I highly suggest the Grateful Dead and Friends, which is Saturday morning from 9-11 EST, the Boombox, weeknights from 7-11 EST, and Bluegrass Sunday morning, which is sublime radio, on Sundays from 7-11 EST. I was going to give you the showtimes as Pacific time, but was totally overwhelmed by the math. So you can and should figure it out. Something for everyone, I assure you. I also enjoy the Modern Rock program.
Can you tell I love music, (I play no instruments, and sing like a drunken, overly hair sprayed, highlighted with an at home kit woman in a matching white denim vest and tight jeans at a country bar karaoke extravaganza singing Stand by Your Man for the 7th time in the same night. If you are one of the unfortunates who has not actually witnessed this, it's horrible.) and since moving to Lewiston, the musical part of my soul is crying and withered like a raisin being burned with a magnifying glass by an angry 8 year old boy. The biggest musical event here in the last year has been Rick Springfield, and though I will belt out Jesse's Girl while I'm in the car and it comes on, his work doesn't exactly feed me.
I am still reading Just Kids by Patti Smith, feeling sorry for myself that I don't know anyone who would read it, much less read it slow like I am because I don't want it to end. I can't help but feel that I went completely wrong in not moving into a loft next door to the Chelsea with a closeted homosexual artist, like she did. I'm sure I could have made that happen if I'd taken the chance. It's too late though, such a look does not flatter a 40 year old woman. It would be a tad Mrs. Haversham to me.
At least I've convinced myself I could have been a Rock n Roll poet, had I applied myself.
Since I am the media vein, the best radio station in the world is 91.9 WNRN. You can also listen to it online, but it's back East and therefore 3 hours earlier on all the programming than it says in their programming schedule. I highly suggest the Grateful Dead and Friends, which is Saturday morning from 9-11 EST, the Boombox, weeknights from 7-11 EST, and Bluegrass Sunday morning, which is sublime radio, on Sundays from 7-11 EST. I was going to give you the showtimes as Pacific time, but was totally overwhelmed by the math. So you can and should figure it out. Something for everyone, I assure you. I also enjoy the Modern Rock program.
Can you tell I love music, (I play no instruments, and sing like a drunken, overly hair sprayed, highlighted with an at home kit woman in a matching white denim vest and tight jeans at a country bar karaoke extravaganza singing Stand by Your Man for the 7th time in the same night. If you are one of the unfortunates who has not actually witnessed this, it's horrible.) and since moving to Lewiston, the musical part of my soul is crying and withered like a raisin being burned with a magnifying glass by an angry 8 year old boy. The biggest musical event here in the last year has been Rick Springfield, and though I will belt out Jesse's Girl while I'm in the car and it comes on, his work doesn't exactly feed me.
I am still reading Just Kids by Patti Smith, feeling sorry for myself that I don't know anyone who would read it, much less read it slow like I am because I don't want it to end. I can't help but feel that I went completely wrong in not moving into a loft next door to the Chelsea with a closeted homosexual artist, like she did. I'm sure I could have made that happen if I'd taken the chance. It's too late though, such a look does not flatter a 40 year old woman. It would be a tad Mrs. Haversham to me.
At least I've convinced myself I could have been a Rock n Roll poet, had I applied myself.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Listening to Zepplin on a cloudy day
Tangerine. My favorite Led Zepplin song, and they are my favorite band of all time, a no brainer because they are the solid best. I do not remember life without Zepplin, and like the Piaget kid for whom things that not can be seen do not exist, I am pretty secure that Led Zepplin has been a part of human culture since the beginning of time. Check out the cave drawings.
So why was I listening to Tangerine when my ex husband popped into my head? (EEEW! Yuck! Douse it smash it!!!EWWW!) I have creeped out myself in my own mind, open skull, add Zepplin, shake in a side of clouds, stir.
"Thinking how it used to be/Does she still remember days like these?" The song just breaks your heart. Today I wonder if my ex husband, who's life I destroyed after he nearly destroyed mine, ever thinks of me with the longing and sadness that can be heard in the song.
(Does he even listen to Zepplin anymore? Do people who drive mini vans listen to Zepplin?)
It's not because I'm mean, and that I want people to suffer, (actually, there is a handful of people I would like to suffer somewhat and maybe after a while I could graciously end their suffering because I am so compassionate and adult, but I'm really not) it's because I want to be that princess in a tower, that woman that is forever pined for, wanted and adored no matter what by some noble, well read, extremely good looking, shirtless man. My ex husband was none of those things. The current man regularly has me confounded in one way or another.
The problem with having choices in your life is that you have choices. If you don't figure that out until you are in your mid thirties, you not only have the choices you have yet to make to deal with, you have all the ones you let slip away and all of your wrong turns behind you. You are stuck with the promise to yourself that you won't waste the next twenty years of your life not having the life you want.
And compromise becomes the double edged sword.
So why was I listening to Tangerine when my ex husband popped into my head? (EEEW! Yuck! Douse it smash it!!!EWWW!) I have creeped out myself in my own mind, open skull, add Zepplin, shake in a side of clouds, stir.
"Thinking how it used to be/Does she still remember days like these?" The song just breaks your heart. Today I wonder if my ex husband, who's life I destroyed after he nearly destroyed mine, ever thinks of me with the longing and sadness that can be heard in the song.
(Does he even listen to Zepplin anymore? Do people who drive mini vans listen to Zepplin?)
It's not because I'm mean, and that I want people to suffer, (actually, there is a handful of people I would like to suffer somewhat and maybe after a while I could graciously end their suffering because I am so compassionate and adult, but I'm really not) it's because I want to be that princess in a tower, that woman that is forever pined for, wanted and adored no matter what by some noble, well read, extremely good looking, shirtless man. My ex husband was none of those things. The current man regularly has me confounded in one way or another.
The problem with having choices in your life is that you have choices. If you don't figure that out until you are in your mid thirties, you not only have the choices you have yet to make to deal with, you have all the ones you let slip away and all of your wrong turns behind you. You are stuck with the promise to yourself that you won't waste the next twenty years of your life not having the life you want.
And compromise becomes the double edged sword.
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