friend barry informed me that one of our theatre cats, ginger, affectionately known as Big G, also passed away on december 26th. so while the english working class was celebrating boxing day, our pets were somewhere celebrating their own obscure anniversary.
i sometimes imagine the afterlife.
once, when i heard about one of my college teachers dying, i imagined him in an afterworld standing in a cool stream, feet anchored in the water and arms slowly, joyfully, soulfully dancing.
i have imagined roadkill coming back to life on a tropical island with clear glittering air and peaceful ocean waves lapping at the shore, surrounded by white sands and other unfortunate animals who have come there to rest.
it's been said that the dead who are not properly buried will not fully take leave of their mortal bodies until burial is rectified, and it's been said that some people don't realize they're dead or are too attached to life, so they become ghosts who live among us.
sometimes i imagine that all time is occurring now, so in this moment i can talk to myself when i was eight and i can also talk to myself who has already passed away, both at the same time if i want to.
on a completely unrelated note, i am having trouble wrenching the headphones off my head. this iPod is addictive. dangerously so. i think iPods are fantastic -- but when they begin to supplant valuable social interaction and/or important daily tasks (such as morning ablutions), the danger meter begins to wiggle.
are our current desires ever influenced by our past or our future selves? does my eight year-old self want to listen to broken social scene? and is it my afterlife self who craves the gentle trembling voice of iris dement?
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Monday, December 26, 2005
dog days
those of you who were with me during the days of THE FORLORN HOPE may remember stories of my amazing magical dog, loudini-- how he overcame the lackadaisical effects of clomicalm, invaded a skunk den, and escaped a chain-link fence in a single bound. loudini finally met his demise on december 26, 2003-- exactly two years ago today.
strangely enough, my brother and sister-in-law have a dog who died today too. they always bring their dogs to our christmas gatherings, and old mr. skruggs, who was 15, passed away sometime early this morning. he is now buried next to luie.
it was strange how everything came flooding back to me as i walked out to the burial spots-- the bright blue sky and crisp air, and my dad and brother hacking at the ground with a shovel and a flat-edged pick. everything is fine and manly until we lay the dog's heavy body in the hole, then the tears start to flow. we circle around the grave and have a short prayer, then we sit around for a few more minutes gazing at the dirt and rocks and listening to reminiscences of mr. skruggs, who carried with him since youth a certain existential angst, getting afraid at night and shivering in the arms of his owners.
the young, new dog, dixie, sniffs at the grave and digs tentatively, till she is reprimanded.
strangely enough, my brother and sister-in-law have a dog who died today too. they always bring their dogs to our christmas gatherings, and old mr. skruggs, who was 15, passed away sometime early this morning. he is now buried next to luie.
it was strange how everything came flooding back to me as i walked out to the burial spots-- the bright blue sky and crisp air, and my dad and brother hacking at the ground with a shovel and a flat-edged pick. everything is fine and manly until we lay the dog's heavy body in the hole, then the tears start to flow. we circle around the grave and have a short prayer, then we sit around for a few more minutes gazing at the dirt and rocks and listening to reminiscences of mr. skruggs, who carried with him since youth a certain existential angst, getting afraid at night and shivering in the arms of his owners.
the young, new dog, dixie, sniffs at the grave and digs tentatively, till she is reprimanded.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
multitudes
"Here she went to the window, and in spite of the cold could not help unlatching it. She leant out into the damp night air. She heard a fox bark in the woods, and the clutter of a pheasant trailing through the branches. She heard the snow slither and flop from the roof to the ground. 'By my life,' she exclaimed, 'this is a thousand times better than Turkey. Rustum... you were wrong. This is better than Turkey. Hair, pastry, tobacco-- of what odds and ends are we compounded,' she said (thinking of Queen Mary's prayer book). 'What a phantasmagoria the mind is and meeting-place of dissemblables. At one moment we deplore our birth and state and aspire to an ascetic exaltation; the next we are overcome by the smell of some old garden path and weep to hear the thrushes sing.' And so bewildered as usual by the multitude of things which call for explanation and imprint their message without leaving any hint as to their meaning upon the mind, she threw her cheroot out of the window and went to bed."
-Orlando, Virginia Woolf
virginia woolf, guide to the soul-weary, friend of the non-sequitur hyper-sensitive monologue-mongering emotional disaster inspired genius obnoxious introvert.
i'm feeling better, thanks to the fabulous french homeopathic remedy by the name of oscillococcinum, first purveyed to me by fran (thanks f).
took my cat freda to the vet yesterday. the vet was impressed by how calm and sweet she was. i postulated that she was probably in shock and was therefore only exhibiting a facade of sweetness. which i think is partially true. but it's also true that she's a sweet cat. they took her stitches out and gave her two immunizations.
later, i went to the doctor myself. i like my doctor and we had a good session. i got a flu shot and talked to her about orlando (see above). while i was waiting i listened to my iPod.
after the appointment i came home and fell into one of those black-hole sleeps.
i woke up a little before six, feeling really weak, and drove to my brother's house for a holiday party. it was nice, and as the evening wore on, i started to feel better. at some point toward the end of the evening i stood by my sister and she started telling me about an ambulance that came to her neighborhood that day. apparently two gay men, who have been together for 19 years, live across the street from my sister. one of them passed away after suffering a heart attack. he was 59. my sister was sorry she hadn't been more in touch with them. but from what she said, they didn't particularly want to be in touch with anyone. i'm sure they just wanted to keep to themselves.
but-- enough of this hackneyed old concept of wanting to do something after it's too late, feeling bad about a lost cause, suddenly loving someone because they're no longer around. do it now! as for me, i'm going to throw my cheroot out the window and maybe go for a walk.
-Orlando, Virginia Woolf
virginia woolf, guide to the soul-weary, friend of the non-sequitur hyper-sensitive monologue-mongering emotional disaster inspired genius obnoxious introvert.
i'm feeling better, thanks to the fabulous french homeopathic remedy by the name of oscillococcinum, first purveyed to me by fran (thanks f).
took my cat freda to the vet yesterday. the vet was impressed by how calm and sweet she was. i postulated that she was probably in shock and was therefore only exhibiting a facade of sweetness. which i think is partially true. but it's also true that she's a sweet cat. they took her stitches out and gave her two immunizations.
later, i went to the doctor myself. i like my doctor and we had a good session. i got a flu shot and talked to her about orlando (see above). while i was waiting i listened to my iPod.
after the appointment i came home and fell into one of those black-hole sleeps.
i woke up a little before six, feeling really weak, and drove to my brother's house for a holiday party. it was nice, and as the evening wore on, i started to feel better. at some point toward the end of the evening i stood by my sister and she started telling me about an ambulance that came to her neighborhood that day. apparently two gay men, who have been together for 19 years, live across the street from my sister. one of them passed away after suffering a heart attack. he was 59. my sister was sorry she hadn't been more in touch with them. but from what she said, they didn't particularly want to be in touch with anyone. i'm sure they just wanted to keep to themselves.
but-- enough of this hackneyed old concept of wanting to do something after it's too late, feeling bad about a lost cause, suddenly loving someone because they're no longer around. do it now! as for me, i'm going to throw my cheroot out the window and maybe go for a walk.
Monday, December 19, 2005
fever
annoyingly, my body is trying to get sick again. chills and fever. i'm slamming echinacea.
the nutcracker was pretty good. my students were excellent. as fran commented, the show was full of eye candy-- bright colors and fast-paced dances. listening to the music, i couldn't help thinking about tchaikovsky. after reading that biography of him a few years ago (which i can't seem to locate on google), my view of pyotr ilyich was a little different, even though i don't think the author was particularly insightful about the composer's apparent homosexuality.
geez, i hope i caught this illness in time and can stop it before it takes over.
the nutcracker was pretty good. my students were excellent. as fran commented, the show was full of eye candy-- bright colors and fast-paced dances. listening to the music, i couldn't help thinking about tchaikovsky. after reading that biography of him a few years ago (which i can't seem to locate on google), my view of pyotr ilyich was a little different, even though i don't think the author was particularly insightful about the composer's apparent homosexuality.
geez, i hope i caught this illness in time and can stop it before it takes over.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
the holidays
a few things.
1. it seems nic won't be around much longer, is leaving the university and going back to taiwan in january.
ironically, this song by sparks plays next in my iPod:
"i married myself
i'm very happy together
long long walks on the beach
lovely times...
this time it's gonna last
this time it's gonna last
forever, forever, forever..."
a hilarious song striking a sadly true note.
but i'm not in the dumps about it. what would be the use of that? life can be sad, disappointing. i've accepted that. everything's for a reason. just keep going and observing and absorbing everything around me.
2. friend marc from delaware, by way of north carolina, has moved to san antonio. he is a cohort from the theatre company and is seeking a life of quiet employment and music study and art making. yesterday i took him to my favorite mexican food place in town and then we drove around to various places. it's nice to have him around again.
3. the teenager in me (who is still very much alive, on certain levels) was gratified today at lyricsfreak.com (thanks catherine) when i found out what the hell that bjork girl is saying in one of her early hits: "the hardcore and gentle big time sensuality." it was the "hardcore" part i never understood. does that mean something?
4. last night i made christmas cookies with friend fran and her daughter zoe. while mushing my hands in the cranberry-orange cookie dough i had a flashback of past holiday meal preparations and at first thought, "i'm starting to feel christmas a little;" then i got a little sad, as the memory traveled from my senses into my thoughts. i began to realize the christmas memory i was having was a bittersweet one. at the same time i felt grateful to have a strong sense memory, grateful that my body has the incredible ability to remember things before my mind does. it was also cool that i didn't have to keep it in, but could talk about it with fran, discuss relationships and exactly what happened in them.
5. today fran, zoe and i will go see the nutcracker. a couple of my students are in it.
6. my holiday break has begun!
1. it seems nic won't be around much longer, is leaving the university and going back to taiwan in january.
ironically, this song by sparks plays next in my iPod:
"i married myself
i'm very happy together
long long walks on the beach
lovely times...
this time it's gonna last
this time it's gonna last
forever, forever, forever..."
a hilarious song striking a sadly true note.
but i'm not in the dumps about it. what would be the use of that? life can be sad, disappointing. i've accepted that. everything's for a reason. just keep going and observing and absorbing everything around me.
2. friend marc from delaware, by way of north carolina, has moved to san antonio. he is a cohort from the theatre company and is seeking a life of quiet employment and music study and art making. yesterday i took him to my favorite mexican food place in town and then we drove around to various places. it's nice to have him around again.
3. the teenager in me (who is still very much alive, on certain levels) was gratified today at lyricsfreak.com (thanks catherine) when i found out what the hell that bjork girl is saying in one of her early hits: "the hardcore and gentle big time sensuality." it was the "hardcore" part i never understood. does that mean something?
4. last night i made christmas cookies with friend fran and her daughter zoe. while mushing my hands in the cranberry-orange cookie dough i had a flashback of past holiday meal preparations and at first thought, "i'm starting to feel christmas a little;" then i got a little sad, as the memory traveled from my senses into my thoughts. i began to realize the christmas memory i was having was a bittersweet one. at the same time i felt grateful to have a strong sense memory, grateful that my body has the incredible ability to remember things before my mind does. it was also cool that i didn't have to keep it in, but could talk about it with fran, discuss relationships and exactly what happened in them.
5. today fran, zoe and i will go see the nutcracker. a couple of my students are in it.
6. my holiday break has begun!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
love and technology
i remember the first sony walkman my mom got us for christmas, must have been around 1981. it was a little cassette player with metal headphones and orange spongy pads on the ear parts. it was cool and compact, and though we used it till we wore it out, i don't remember anyone being particularly impressed by it.
several years later, i saved up enough to buy a more streamlined version-- hardly larger than a cassette, with the added coolness of an auto-reverse function, so that you'd never have to take the tape out in order to listen to the other side. this was a cool development, along with the puzzling yet high-tech dolby noise reduction feature.
the first cd i remember seeing, around '82 or '83, was owned by a brainy kid named dwight who came from another school and sat near me in band. i resisted the technology, happy with my tapes. in college i finally broke down and purchased a cd player at circuit city, on sale for something like sixty dollars. the first cds i bought were prokofiev's piano concerto number three and a clannad album called macalla. my friend beth sat with me in my house listening to the sparkling sounds, and later our friend stephen brought some of his cds over-- kate bush's the dreaming sounded so clear and sharp, and my appreciation for cds grew from there, evidenced by a fast-accumulating collection.
the first car cd player i had was bought in reno, nevada in 1998. later that year i got a gateway computer with a cd burner on it. making compilation cds made my collection of tapes almost obsolete. i remember burning iris dement's "hotter than mojave in my heart" and thinking it was the coolest thing ever-- i could follow her up with "ham 'n' eggs" by a tribe called quest, and follow that with tom waits. the thought of burning cds burned a hole through my mind. it seemed like technology had come a long way in a short amount of time.
tonight i spent four hours downloading 115 songs onto an iPod shuffle. i am amazed that the voices of callas, cash, bjork, stipe and the orchestrations of mozart and so many others can all be contained inside this tiny piece of white plastic which has the most minimal dial on it, for volume and track control. there is something vaguely terrifying about how tiny and efficient it is, almost as if it reduces the importance of the hours of work that went into each song it contains to an infinitesimal megabyte. and i know there is a practical, technological reason that all these voices and instruments can fit inside this small piece of plastic... but it boggles my simple mind to think about it. it's nothing new-- i mean, how did they get voices to come out of vinyl? and tape? it's all amazing if you think about it. but this development, this lightweight, seemingly inconsequential plastic device seems excessively space-age to me.
i have hesitated to mention nic, my friend who gave me this iPod, who sold me his computer (the one that brought me back to blogging), and who has spent many fine hours with me.
why have i hesitated to mention him?
well, i suffer from the superstition that to acknowledge a joy in life allows for the possibility that the joy may soon depart. a few times in the past, when i have allowed myself to indulge in these joys, i have basked in bliss only to be let down by its eventual absence. but i don't believe that we should live our lives in suspension from joy simply in order to avoid future pain. and so i mention nic now.
he's originally from taiwan and is a student at the university here. we met 5 or 6 weeks ago and hit it off right away. he went to thanksgiving with me at my sister's, where he dealt well with my family, as far as i could tell.
a few specifics: though he doesn't care for mexican food, it's not that he actually dislikes it; he is a gadget person who loves new toys; when i told him i liked chet baker's "i fall in love too easily" he gasped ecstatically and began to sing it. we saw the wallace and gromit movie together, and then a couple weeks later, the harry potter movie. i really like spending time with him.
everything in life's temporary, ephemeral. sometimes our joy or agony can make things seem permanent... but nothing is. so why not mention your joys, in order to enjoy them more fully, while they last? that's what i'm doing.
i want to take this opportunity to thank nic, whose birthday is coming up, for his generosity, his childlike enthusiasm, his wisdom, and for bringing me some relished and ephemeral joys.
in regards to technology, i am amazed. in regards to affection, in all its forms, no matter how permanent, i am quietly, appreciatively astounded.
several years later, i saved up enough to buy a more streamlined version-- hardly larger than a cassette, with the added coolness of an auto-reverse function, so that you'd never have to take the tape out in order to listen to the other side. this was a cool development, along with the puzzling yet high-tech dolby noise reduction feature.
the first cd i remember seeing, around '82 or '83, was owned by a brainy kid named dwight who came from another school and sat near me in band. i resisted the technology, happy with my tapes. in college i finally broke down and purchased a cd player at circuit city, on sale for something like sixty dollars. the first cds i bought were prokofiev's piano concerto number three and a clannad album called macalla. my friend beth sat with me in my house listening to the sparkling sounds, and later our friend stephen brought some of his cds over-- kate bush's the dreaming sounded so clear and sharp, and my appreciation for cds grew from there, evidenced by a fast-accumulating collection.
the first car cd player i had was bought in reno, nevada in 1998. later that year i got a gateway computer with a cd burner on it. making compilation cds made my collection of tapes almost obsolete. i remember burning iris dement's "hotter than mojave in my heart" and thinking it was the coolest thing ever-- i could follow her up with "ham 'n' eggs" by a tribe called quest, and follow that with tom waits. the thought of burning cds burned a hole through my mind. it seemed like technology had come a long way in a short amount of time.
tonight i spent four hours downloading 115 songs onto an iPod shuffle. i am amazed that the voices of callas, cash, bjork, stipe and the orchestrations of mozart and so many others can all be contained inside this tiny piece of white plastic which has the most minimal dial on it, for volume and track control. there is something vaguely terrifying about how tiny and efficient it is, almost as if it reduces the importance of the hours of work that went into each song it contains to an infinitesimal megabyte. and i know there is a practical, technological reason that all these voices and instruments can fit inside this small piece of plastic... but it boggles my simple mind to think about it. it's nothing new-- i mean, how did they get voices to come out of vinyl? and tape? it's all amazing if you think about it. but this development, this lightweight, seemingly inconsequential plastic device seems excessively space-age to me.
i have hesitated to mention nic, my friend who gave me this iPod, who sold me his computer (the one that brought me back to blogging), and who has spent many fine hours with me.
why have i hesitated to mention him?
well, i suffer from the superstition that to acknowledge a joy in life allows for the possibility that the joy may soon depart. a few times in the past, when i have allowed myself to indulge in these joys, i have basked in bliss only to be let down by its eventual absence. but i don't believe that we should live our lives in suspension from joy simply in order to avoid future pain. and so i mention nic now.
he's originally from taiwan and is a student at the university here. we met 5 or 6 weeks ago and hit it off right away. he went to thanksgiving with me at my sister's, where he dealt well with my family, as far as i could tell.
a few specifics: though he doesn't care for mexican food, it's not that he actually dislikes it; he is a gadget person who loves new toys; when i told him i liked chet baker's "i fall in love too easily" he gasped ecstatically and began to sing it. we saw the wallace and gromit movie together, and then a couple weeks later, the harry potter movie. i really like spending time with him.
everything in life's temporary, ephemeral. sometimes our joy or agony can make things seem permanent... but nothing is. so why not mention your joys, in order to enjoy them more fully, while they last? that's what i'm doing.
i want to take this opportunity to thank nic, whose birthday is coming up, for his generosity, his childlike enthusiasm, his wisdom, and for bringing me some relished and ephemeral joys.
in regards to technology, i am amazed. in regards to affection, in all its forms, no matter how permanent, i am quietly, appreciatively astounded.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
sleep
i got seven and a half hours of sleep but i am still so sleepy this morning. i think i need an extended hibernation period. i'll get a nice cave somewhere in the austin area. i'll decorate it with pillows and blankets and faux fur rugs. i'll wrap myself up in a chenille coccoon and i won't come out till i'm good and rested. munchkins will beat on the stone door: "let us in! let us eeeeen!"
but i'll be snoring so deeply that no sound will penetrate the slumber. witches will fly around the cave in an attempt to find a craggy nook through which to slither. but none will they find; all crevices will have been stopped up with the density of my sleepiness. wizards will cast incantations against the rock walls to try to get in. "ha!" i'll say in my dreams. "i care not!" i'll say. words like that will be common in my dreams: "i care not!"
once my sleep card is full, i'll awaken, slowly and completely. i'll stay in my bed for days, awake, calmly looking at the walls of the cave, before finally rising out of bed with a new and rejuvenated sense of self. by that time the munchkins, witches and wizards will have given up, moved on to easier targets. i'll cook me a good cave breakfast, brew me some good cave coffee, maybe watch me some good cave movies and read me some good cave books. and i won't take off my pajamas till i'm good 'n' cave ready.
when i finally emerge, the sunlight will be like gold and silver pouring over me and illuminating my path of blessedness. the creatures will watch from green nooks. i'll place my feet one after the other on my path to my destination, breathing the deep fresh air. nothing will obstruct my view.
but i'll be snoring so deeply that no sound will penetrate the slumber. witches will fly around the cave in an attempt to find a craggy nook through which to slither. but none will they find; all crevices will have been stopped up with the density of my sleepiness. wizards will cast incantations against the rock walls to try to get in. "ha!" i'll say in my dreams. "i care not!" i'll say. words like that will be common in my dreams: "i care not!"
once my sleep card is full, i'll awaken, slowly and completely. i'll stay in my bed for days, awake, calmly looking at the walls of the cave, before finally rising out of bed with a new and rejuvenated sense of self. by that time the munchkins, witches and wizards will have given up, moved on to easier targets. i'll cook me a good cave breakfast, brew me some good cave coffee, maybe watch me some good cave movies and read me some good cave books. and i won't take off my pajamas till i'm good 'n' cave ready.
when i finally emerge, the sunlight will be like gold and silver pouring over me and illuminating my path of blessedness. the creatures will watch from green nooks. i'll place my feet one after the other on my path to my destination, breathing the deep fresh air. nothing will obstruct my view.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
church
i am probably stating the obvious, but that's never stopped me before: there is no paucity of churches in san antonio, texas. driving east on loop 1604 this morning i passed at least eight churches, at least four of which had huge tall signs, easily visible from the highway, with those electronic scrolling words on them. i wondered what the leaders of the churches were thinking when they purchased those scrolling words signs.
i thought of a few possibilities:
PASTOR 1. a scrolling words sign will catch the attention of drivers by. even if they don't come in, they'll know we're here because our sign will have made an impression.
PASTOR 2. it will make our church seem more modern, up-to-date, encourage a younger crowd.
PASTOR 3. the scrolling words sign is an evangelical move. mark my words, some heathen is going to be driving down loop 1604 and he is going to see the scrolling words sign and he will suddenly want to pull into the parking lot.
just some ideas.
it had been a while since i went to church. last time i went was to my parents' church, a conservative baptist church in a small town, to hear their new pastor talk about his recent mission trip to russia. being something of a russophile myself, i decided to go hear what he had to say. he mostly talked about how communism had crushed religion and the spirit of the people and how they don't have hot water and how their toilets aren't clean. he talked about what they didn't have. he didn't mention the spiritual richness, the overwhelming generosity of russians, the resilience, the avid conversation, the intense day-to-day zest for life. he only talked about what we can give them (cleaning products, cheetos, burgers), not what they can give us (a deeper way of living and looking at life).
so i went to this other baptist church today. my sister-in-law wanted to go to this church since she read this book and gave me a copy. this minister has a widely-admired website. the service was informal, quite simple, and i felt it chipping away at the stone in my heart. the children were loud, the accompaniment cd skipped, there were a lot of prayer requests, and i verged on tears a couple of times. this happens to me increasingly often in church-- i find part of myself melting away (usually through my eyes) and another part of myself, a deeper, more intractable part, being chipped away at. there's a hardness inside me that is cynical, stubborn, judgemental.
but my heart is also soft, and fills up and overflows, and i see someone precious across the worship room nodding at something the minister said, and the way he stuttered on that word made me notice how human he is, and the girl sitting next to me is biting her nails and dropping them on the floor, and that's great too. i'm getting older and it's nice to be in church again, noticing.
the minister talked about the way christians need to avoid smugness, especially in their conception of who jesus is. he will usually surprise you, as he surprised so many people in those stories in the bible. and if he came back today, who would recognize him? perhaps more importantly, who would he recognize as his?
something in me has grown immune to the old vocabulary of jesus, the talking about his dying for me, the cross, the "he is worthy" ten-minute hymn by sandi patti. discussions of jesus leave me nowhere, especially when the discussions involve the word "if" and "when." maybe i'm fooling myself, but i've been around jesus for a while, and my faith is increasingly integrated into here and now. i don't talk about christianity, i don't bring up jesus, but i believe the spirit i perceive as jesus (and some of the lessons jesus lived) is currently being learned, or grappled with, or applied, in me. that is my version of faith.
you will never see me post a scrolling words sign outside my door. if i had one i wouldn't know what to put on it (COME IN FOR EARLY MORNING ANGST ... PRAISE THE CAT ... ?). but if you come in you will find avid conversation, generosity, and a unique, if quiet, zest for life.
i thought of a few possibilities:
PASTOR 1. a scrolling words sign will catch the attention of drivers by. even if they don't come in, they'll know we're here because our sign will have made an impression.
PASTOR 2. it will make our church seem more modern, up-to-date, encourage a younger crowd.
PASTOR 3. the scrolling words sign is an evangelical move. mark my words, some heathen is going to be driving down loop 1604 and he is going to see the scrolling words sign and he will suddenly want to pull into the parking lot.
just some ideas.
it had been a while since i went to church. last time i went was to my parents' church, a conservative baptist church in a small town, to hear their new pastor talk about his recent mission trip to russia. being something of a russophile myself, i decided to go hear what he had to say. he mostly talked about how communism had crushed religion and the spirit of the people and how they don't have hot water and how their toilets aren't clean. he talked about what they didn't have. he didn't mention the spiritual richness, the overwhelming generosity of russians, the resilience, the avid conversation, the intense day-to-day zest for life. he only talked about what we can give them (cleaning products, cheetos, burgers), not what they can give us (a deeper way of living and looking at life).
so i went to this other baptist church today. my sister-in-law wanted to go to this church since she read this book and gave me a copy. this minister has a widely-admired website. the service was informal, quite simple, and i felt it chipping away at the stone in my heart. the children were loud, the accompaniment cd skipped, there were a lot of prayer requests, and i verged on tears a couple of times. this happens to me increasingly often in church-- i find part of myself melting away (usually through my eyes) and another part of myself, a deeper, more intractable part, being chipped away at. there's a hardness inside me that is cynical, stubborn, judgemental.
but my heart is also soft, and fills up and overflows, and i see someone precious across the worship room nodding at something the minister said, and the way he stuttered on that word made me notice how human he is, and the girl sitting next to me is biting her nails and dropping them on the floor, and that's great too. i'm getting older and it's nice to be in church again, noticing.
the minister talked about the way christians need to avoid smugness, especially in their conception of who jesus is. he will usually surprise you, as he surprised so many people in those stories in the bible. and if he came back today, who would recognize him? perhaps more importantly, who would he recognize as his?
something in me has grown immune to the old vocabulary of jesus, the talking about his dying for me, the cross, the "he is worthy" ten-minute hymn by sandi patti. discussions of jesus leave me nowhere, especially when the discussions involve the word "if" and "when." maybe i'm fooling myself, but i've been around jesus for a while, and my faith is increasingly integrated into here and now. i don't talk about christianity, i don't bring up jesus, but i believe the spirit i perceive as jesus (and some of the lessons jesus lived) is currently being learned, or grappled with, or applied, in me. that is my version of faith.
you will never see me post a scrolling words sign outside my door. if i had one i wouldn't know what to put on it (COME IN FOR EARLY MORNING ANGST ... PRAISE THE CAT ... ?). but if you come in you will find avid conversation, generosity, and a unique, if quiet, zest for life.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
every little thing
while visiting monalisa's blog, i read a speech given by harold pinter on the occasion of his being awarded the nobel prize in literature. i'm sure monalisa won't mind if i also include a link to it in my weblog; in the interests of having as many people read it as possible, here it is.
my sister-in-law is visiting so i slept on the couch last night. it was remarkably comfortable, reminiscent of childhood times when sleeping in a different part of your house, setting up your bed, getting sheets and blankets and putting them where they didn't normally go, using couch pillows instead of bed pillows, was a really exciting, cozy activity which changed the quality of your dreams. in this case i don't remember any of my dreams last night. but make no mistake: there were dreams.
last night when i told my sister-in-law the title of my new blog, she said, "what's a life-changing event?" and i said, "every little thing." and she said, "i had one of those yesterday."
she was driving from waco to san antonio and decided to stop off at the illustrious snake farm which is located on I-35 somewhere south of new braunfels. she wanted to get a t-shirt for her husband (my brother) for christmas. she went in and saw that all the t-shirts were kind of nice; they didn't have ugly ones anymore. she bought one anyway, striking up a conversation with the guy at the counter. she said, "i remember coming here when i was eight, and i had bought a new camera, but all of the pictures came out as just flashes because they reflected off the windows the snakes were behind... i remember there was a buffalo."
the guy said, "oh yeah. there was a buffalo... and a lion... and a bear... he had all kinds of animals here."
the guy went on to tell her that next door, where the man who started the snake farm lived, there was a graveyard out back, with gravestones, and all the animals who had ever lived at the snake farm were buried there.
the guy said, "i guess all those animals were sort of like his only family."
and as my sister-in-law told me, she was a little melancholy about it, which means it was sad but beautiful at the same time: some old guy, living out in the middle of the texas nothingness, with his rinky-dink snake farm, burying his family in his back yard. a little bit of a life-changing event.
my sister-in-law is visiting so i slept on the couch last night. it was remarkably comfortable, reminiscent of childhood times when sleeping in a different part of your house, setting up your bed, getting sheets and blankets and putting them where they didn't normally go, using couch pillows instead of bed pillows, was a really exciting, cozy activity which changed the quality of your dreams. in this case i don't remember any of my dreams last night. but make no mistake: there were dreams.
last night when i told my sister-in-law the title of my new blog, she said, "what's a life-changing event?" and i said, "every little thing." and she said, "i had one of those yesterday."
she was driving from waco to san antonio and decided to stop off at the illustrious snake farm which is located on I-35 somewhere south of new braunfels. she wanted to get a t-shirt for her husband (my brother) for christmas. she went in and saw that all the t-shirts were kind of nice; they didn't have ugly ones anymore. she bought one anyway, striking up a conversation with the guy at the counter. she said, "i remember coming here when i was eight, and i had bought a new camera, but all of the pictures came out as just flashes because they reflected off the windows the snakes were behind... i remember there was a buffalo."
the guy said, "oh yeah. there was a buffalo... and a lion... and a bear... he had all kinds of animals here."
the guy went on to tell her that next door, where the man who started the snake farm lived, there was a graveyard out back, with gravestones, and all the animals who had ever lived at the snake farm were buried there.
the guy said, "i guess all those animals were sort of like his only family."
and as my sister-in-law told me, she was a little melancholy about it, which means it was sad but beautiful at the same time: some old guy, living out in the middle of the texas nothingness, with his rinky-dink snake farm, burying his family in his back yard. a little bit of a life-changing event.
Friday, December 09, 2005
semester finals
i haven't been able to get online for five days. on sunday evening i found that the wireless connection i'd been pirating was no longer accessible. each day i came home hoping it would be back. but it never was. so i broke down and called road runner and got internet service and cable tv. with any luck i'll cancel the cable tv after a month and continue to pay low-ish rates on the internet service.
the week was full of final performance exams in my theatre arts I classes. the quality of these performances ranged from excellent to non-existent. the exam is relatively simple -- choose two of the following to perform for the class: 1) a song, 2) a movement piece, 3) a comedy piece, 4) a published monologue.
there's one young man who has never done anything in my class. he sits mute, immobile in his chair and shrugs every time i call on him. i have trouble understanding this. i have trouble empathizing. no effort, no attempt, nothing. it doesn't seem that he's nervous or insecure; it's like this completely airtight, expressionless apathy with no trace of guilt or reflection. the same held true when i called on him to do his final performance exam: zip.
on the other hand, i've seen some good dances, heard a nice scottish ballad, and yesterday two short white freshman boys sat in a blue spotlight wearing sunglasses and singing the blues. one of them played the "bad to the bone" bassline on his bass while the other played really bad harmonica and sang. and today i saw an incredible dance number done with humor and chutzpah. so it's not a waste to have high expectations -- sometimes they actually do come through for you.
when they disappoint you it's painful. it's painful to care, and that's probably why you find those teachers who seem like walking calluses. but God Help Me to keep caring, and to understand how to let go when i need to, so that i don't become a walking callus but can keep caring when it's important.
the week was full of final performance exams in my theatre arts I classes. the quality of these performances ranged from excellent to non-existent. the exam is relatively simple -- choose two of the following to perform for the class: 1) a song, 2) a movement piece, 3) a comedy piece, 4) a published monologue.
there's one young man who has never done anything in my class. he sits mute, immobile in his chair and shrugs every time i call on him. i have trouble understanding this. i have trouble empathizing. no effort, no attempt, nothing. it doesn't seem that he's nervous or insecure; it's like this completely airtight, expressionless apathy with no trace of guilt or reflection. the same held true when i called on him to do his final performance exam: zip.
on the other hand, i've seen some good dances, heard a nice scottish ballad, and yesterday two short white freshman boys sat in a blue spotlight wearing sunglasses and singing the blues. one of them played the "bad to the bone" bassline on his bass while the other played really bad harmonica and sang. and today i saw an incredible dance number done with humor and chutzpah. so it's not a waste to have high expectations -- sometimes they actually do come through for you.
when they disappoint you it's painful. it's painful to care, and that's probably why you find those teachers who seem like walking calluses. but God Help Me to keep caring, and to understand how to let go when i need to, so that i don't become a walking callus but can keep caring when it's important.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
closing night
my parents were there. and my high school speech teacher's widow. and my friends john and laurie, with whom i had not spoken in several months. and my friends justin and alyssa and their friends. and my teacher friend fran, who brought a friend.
i sat next to my sweet mom and put my arm around the back of her chair. my dad sat next to her, and she massaged his hand during the performance.
my high school speech teacher was one of the major influences of my young adulthood. he encouraged me to be an actor, believed in me, set an example of someone who committed his life to his art. he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage at an early age and passed away sometime around 1998. the theatre at the high school i graduated from and now work in is named after him.
the kids did a wonderful job. it was their final performance of the play, so they were all very focused and emotional. i was reminded of sydney, an acting teacher from college, who once told us that we should think of every performance as our last. this improves our commitment to the finality of the moments we play, makes our performance more vital and alive.
we struck the entire set after the play, with help from many dads and moms. we took apart all the platforms, doors, flats. we stored the lumber. we dragged things. we deconstructed. it was satisfying.
tomorrow i will see a touring company production of EVITA at the majestic theatre. it will be a nice way to end the week and to begin the upcoming week.
i sat next to my sweet mom and put my arm around the back of her chair. my dad sat next to her, and she massaged his hand during the performance.
my high school speech teacher was one of the major influences of my young adulthood. he encouraged me to be an actor, believed in me, set an example of someone who committed his life to his art. he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage at an early age and passed away sometime around 1998. the theatre at the high school i graduated from and now work in is named after him.
the kids did a wonderful job. it was their final performance of the play, so they were all very focused and emotional. i was reminded of sydney, an acting teacher from college, who once told us that we should think of every performance as our last. this improves our commitment to the finality of the moments we play, makes our performance more vital and alive.
we struck the entire set after the play, with help from many dads and moms. we took apart all the platforms, doors, flats. we stored the lumber. we dragged things. we deconstructed. it was satisfying.
tomorrow i will see a touring company production of EVITA at the majestic theatre. it will be a nice way to end the week and to begin the upcoming week.
the problem with being nice
once during my twenties in wisconsin i had a late evening/early morning of lucidity in which i could not escape the inevitability of my essential goodness.
in the early morning hours i sat in a field and looked at a huge willow moving in slow motion. awed by its beauty, i was surprised when my friends expressed concern because i hadn't realized i was weeping.
my little tiny heart overflowed with unconditional love for my companions and for my friends in my thoughts.
my body felt like a natural extension of the earth, like a tree. when i stepped on the ground my feet felt like roots. when i raised my arms-- well, branches.
and though i would not change anything, sometimes the all-encompassing goodness became horrible. it became horrible in the way that greeting cards are horrible. there was something sterile, functional and predictable about it. my sentiments were predictably empathetic. my expression was unfailingly gentle and kind. it became a kind of trap.
these moments of panic still strike me, when a friend calls me "nice," or when i feel neglected because of my apparent contentedness. but they are only moments of panic, and soon they are unimportant.
good. horrifying. good. good. good. horrifying. good. good. good. good. good.
in the early morning hours i sat in a field and looked at a huge willow moving in slow motion. awed by its beauty, i was surprised when my friends expressed concern because i hadn't realized i was weeping.
my little tiny heart overflowed with unconditional love for my companions and for my friends in my thoughts.
my body felt like a natural extension of the earth, like a tree. when i stepped on the ground my feet felt like roots. when i raised my arms-- well, branches.
and though i would not change anything, sometimes the all-encompassing goodness became horrible. it became horrible in the way that greeting cards are horrible. there was something sterile, functional and predictable about it. my sentiments were predictably empathetic. my expression was unfailingly gentle and kind. it became a kind of trap.
these moments of panic still strike me, when a friend calls me "nice," or when i feel neglected because of my apparent contentedness. but they are only moments of panic, and soon they are unimportant.
good. horrifying. good. good. good. horrifying. good. good. good. good. good.
Friday, December 02, 2005
sudden doubts
a strange paranoia? it puts nervous springs in my heart:
as if, without a conscious effort, i am distancing myself from everything that loves me.
during a phone conversation i stick my hand in my coat pocket and crumple up what feels like a brittle old piece of paper. dropping it on the ground, seeing it blow away, i see it's a dried purple orchid i'd saved.
students don't approach me; there's something in my demeanor-- the negative side of a magnet. i repel approachers.
tonight i watched the play from the catwalk, above the actors' heads. i admired the little details you can't see from the audience-- one actress playing with a stuffed animal on the bed, an intimate moment between estranged spouses, an actor having a private moment with an empty bottle in the dark.
in the lobby during intermission i am surprisingly candid with a parent. i tell him i'm insecure and that i never feel proud for very long, but i'm working on that. then i walk away without further comment, as if i had something important to accomplish.
i look forward to being alone in my apartment, and as i drive into the complex i see colored christmas lights on the trees. as i drive nearer i see that none of them are colored-- they're all white lights.
how did i see that?
what did i expect?
when do we ever really see what's happening?
as if, without a conscious effort, i am distancing myself from everything that loves me.
during a phone conversation i stick my hand in my coat pocket and crumple up what feels like a brittle old piece of paper. dropping it on the ground, seeing it blow away, i see it's a dried purple orchid i'd saved.
students don't approach me; there's something in my demeanor-- the negative side of a magnet. i repel approachers.
tonight i watched the play from the catwalk, above the actors' heads. i admired the little details you can't see from the audience-- one actress playing with a stuffed animal on the bed, an intimate moment between estranged spouses, an actor having a private moment with an empty bottle in the dark.
in the lobby during intermission i am surprisingly candid with a parent. i tell him i'm insecure and that i never feel proud for very long, but i'm working on that. then i walk away without further comment, as if i had something important to accomplish.
i look forward to being alone in my apartment, and as i drive into the complex i see colored christmas lights on the trees. as i drive nearer i see that none of them are colored-- they're all white lights.
how did i see that?
what did i expect?
when do we ever really see what's happening?
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