Friday, October 27, 2006

Composting

So this is why I haven't posted for the last week...

'Life is compost.'

I blinked.

'You think that a strange thing to say, but it’s true. All my life and all my experience, the events that have befallen me, the people I have known, all my memories, dreams, fantasies, everything I have ever read, all of that has been chucked into the compost heap where over time it has rotted down to a dark, rich, organic mulch. The process of cellular breakdown makes it unrecognizable. Other people call it the imagination. I think of it as a compost heap. Every so often I take an idea, plant it in the compost, and wait. It feeds on that black stuff that used to be a life, takes its energy for its own. It germinates. Takes root. Produces shoots. And so on and so forth, until one fine day I have a story, or a novel.'

I nodded, liking the analogy.

'Readers,' continued Miss Winter, 'are fools. They believe all writing is autobiographical. And so it is, but not in the way they think. The writer’s life needs time to rot away before it can be used to nourish a work of fiction. It must be allowed to decay. That’s why I couldn’t have journalists and biographers rummaging around in my past, retrieving bits and pieces of it, preserving it in their words. To write my books I needed my past left in peace, for time to do its work.'

From Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

Friday, October 20, 2006

If Only

It is times like these when you realize just how awesome health care is. How nice it is to just pay $20 and hear 'the doctor will see you now.' They take care of you, pat your knee, and give you a prescription that, when filled, will make it all go away in 24-48 hours.

It would be so sweet if I had medical insurance.

Unfortunately, I am doomed to sit here with my stuffy nose and achy head in my sweaty, clammy skin.

I feel like poop.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

An Attempt

This poem sums up so much of what I haven't been able to put into words. When you say you're a Christian people put up their anti-ballistics shields. Personal security alerts are raised to red in anticipation of spiritual terrorism. And beyond that, expectations are unfounded and misguided. I'm not capable of living a perfect life, and my mistakes don't make me a hypocrite. I'm not going to try to explain anymore. Maya's got my back.

Christian

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."
I'm whispering "I was lost,"
Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say..."I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
but, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain,
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
who received God's good grace, somehow.

~Maya Angelou~

Haikus and Jicama

Saturday just feels different, doesn't it? I start every Saturday out the same way. Get up, turn on the iTunes, bop around while I mop, vacuum, dust, do dishes, pry boyfriend from couch, fluff couch, then light yummy smelly candles. All the while, the sun just streams through the windows differently. The sky looks a little bluer, or if it's raining, it's deliciously darker. Since I work such ridiculous hours, Saturday is my only day to clean. I teach Saturday mornings, so it's good that I always have that extra incentive to clean thoroughly. Company's coming! God forbid they should see last night's gooey pots and pans. I'm sure they wouldn't care, but I really, really do.

But oh, Saturday. Once the teaching's done, the day is wide open to do whatever I want. I spent today spending some time with a sweet girl that I usually teach on Wednesdays. She's got an audition coming up, so we're putting in some extra time. It feels good to be plugged in to the younger generation, even if I don't understand WHAT is SO GREAT about Good Charlotte, or whatever stuff they're listening to these days. Those whippersnappers, I tell you...

It's funny, even though the styles and the music and the circumstances change, 14 is 14 is 14. Parents still have the same complaints, girls are still kicking and biting for every inch of 'freedom' they can possess, and oh the boys boys boys. The he-said, she-said never changes and school perpetually sucks. The part that makes my heart ache the most is how MUCH these kids thirst for approval. The majority of my students are in middle school and high school, and oh, the lengths they'll go to, the things they'll do, the individuality they'll betray just to feel included, wanted, signficant. I suppose we all have to go through that, but at what cost? Isn't there some class they can take where we adults show them where all the wrong paths lead? Pregnancy, rape, drugs, complacency, apathy, misery. For crying out loud kids, just don't do it! I love 'em so. I do I do I do.

Anyway.

I went out last night. Like...OUT out. Yay! Man, that was the first time in I don't know when that I've been downtown (Atlanta). Grace and I went to a cool little tapas restaurant where we could write on the tables. Oh yeah. We left a sweet haiku for our waitress. ;) We had duck tostadas with mole sauce, and crab cakes on jicama salad. It was deLIcious. Then we went to uber-trendy Bazaar and sat on couches with moroccan lanterns and pillows in a room that could only have been darker if they had turned the lights completely out. The place was bumpin' though, and the music was great. The only bummer, I came out smelling like an ashtray. But, hey, it's a small price to pay for a night of freedom. Thank you, Grace, for dragging my sorry bee-hiney out even when I don't want to go.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Fiddle Dee Dee

So I am officially the last person in America to have a blog. I've never blogged. I've never really read blogs until lately. From what I gather they're just diaries that people can read. Which is weird. I spent years hiding my diary from prying eyes (read: snoops), and here we are just laying our souls bare for the world to see. Hmm.

Anyway, a little about me, if you're interested:

I am an adminstrative assistant at a church by day and a violin teacher by night. Which leaves approximately no time for anything else. I still try though! I'm a rabid reader/knitter/crocheter. More crochet than knitting these days, due to the excessive suck factor associated with my knitting skills. I am positively addicted to Bible Studies. I'm in two right now, Beth Moore's Daniel and Disciple III. Disciple runs August through April, so it's almost like being in school again, with nearly as much work! I love it, though. What can I say about Beth Moore? Her teaching has changed my life. She's amazing. I HIGHLY recommend her studies.

I could do a long list of likes and dislikes, but you guys (if there's anyone out there) probably don't give a rip, so I'll maybe just give you an idea...

* I had sushi for dinner (yay!)
* I spent half my day at the church this morning doing my very favorite part of my job, which is creating event advertising posters in MS Publisher
* The next 10 songs on shuffle on my iPod are:
Ice - Sarah McLachlan
Bigger Than My Body - John Mayer
Information Travels Faster - Death Cab for Cutie
Until the End of the World - U2
Nightingale - Norah Jones
String Quartet No. 8 - Shostakovich
Appalachia Waltz - O'Conner, Ma, Meyer
King of Glory - Third Day
The Rooster Moans - Iron & Wine
My Old Man - Joni Mitchell
* My best, best friend is my mom
* I'm addicted to chai tea
* My last vacation was to the mountains of West Virginia
* I HAVE to watch Lost every Wednesday. Don't call me on Wednesday. I won't answer. No.
* This is my new car! Unfortunately, I had to nearly be killed in my old car to get it.
* As far as I can tell MySpace sucks. Except that I found a friend there I haven't seen in 13 years. Yay! But I mean honestly...how many freaky deaky porn groups are going to 'invite' me in? Blech.

So that's me for now.

And her first blog is complete.

Peace Out.