You guys know THE MAN right? THE MAN. The one who gets you down. Well THE MAN gets me down too. I also happen to know where THE MAN lives. He lives on a compound in Northern Virginia. About 25 minutes from our nation's capitol. I know this because I have been there. THE MAN sucks in human beings and turns them into drones. THE MAN sucks out your soul and leaves you black and vacant on the inside.
I know all these things because I took a contract position with THE MAN and he pays a pretty good hourly rate for my soul. Now, so far, I have been able to retain said soul by working from home. Yes, I am still telecommuting (hallelujah) and it looks like most of December will be the same. I had a close call yesterday. I went to see THE MAN, and parked in his 2000 car garage. But when I waded through the land of cubes and got to to my designated 'box of boredom' there was coffee percolating there and the desktop was full of creamer and sugar and such. There was no phone, no PC cables - nada. So I said 'later' to THE MAN and came back home. Immediately jumped out of my slacks and into sweats and thanked the bureaucracy of THE MAN for keeping me from THE MAN's house a little longer.
Phew.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
the angst, love it
Black Petal
by Li-Young Lee
I never claimed night fathered me.
that was my dead brother talking in his sleep.
I keep him under my pillow, a dear wish
that colors my laughing and crying.
I never said the wind, remembering nothing,
leaves so many rooms unaccounted for,
continual farewell must ransom
the unmistakable fragrance
our human days afford.
It was my brother, little candle in the pulpit,
reading out loud to all of earth
from the book of night.
He died too young to learn his name.
Now he answers to Vacant Boat,
Burning Wing, My Black Petal.
Ask him who his mother is. He'll declare the birds
have eaten the path home, but each of us
joins night's ongoing story
wherever night overtakes him,
the heart astonished to find belonging
and thanks answering thanks.
Ask if he's hungry or thirsty,
he'll say he's the bread come to pass
and draw you a map
to the twelve secret hips of honey.
Does someone want to know the way to spring?
He'll remind you
the flower was never meant to survive
the fruit's triumph.
He says an apple's most secret cargo
is the enduring odor of a human childhood,
our mother's linen pressed and stored, our father's voice
walking through the rooms.
He says he's forgiven our sister
for playing dead and making him cry
those afternoons we were left alone in the house.
And when clocks frighten me with their long hair,
and when I spy the wind's numerous hands
in the orchard unfastening
first the petals from the buds,
then the perfume from the flesh,
my dead brother ministers to me. His voice
weighs nothing
but the far years between
stars in their massive dying,
and I grow quiet hearing
how many of both of our tomorrows
lie waiting inside it to be born.
by Li-Young Lee
I never claimed night fathered me.
that was my dead brother talking in his sleep.
I keep him under my pillow, a dear wish
that colors my laughing and crying.
I never said the wind, remembering nothing,
leaves so many rooms unaccounted for,
continual farewell must ransom
the unmistakable fragrance
our human days afford.
It was my brother, little candle in the pulpit,
reading out loud to all of earth
from the book of night.
He died too young to learn his name.
Now he answers to Vacant Boat,
Burning Wing, My Black Petal.
Ask him who his mother is. He'll declare the birds
have eaten the path home, but each of us
joins night's ongoing story
wherever night overtakes him,
the heart astonished to find belonging
and thanks answering thanks.
Ask if he's hungry or thirsty,
he'll say he's the bread come to pass
and draw you a map
to the twelve secret hips of honey.
Does someone want to know the way to spring?
He'll remind you
the flower was never meant to survive
the fruit's triumph.
He says an apple's most secret cargo
is the enduring odor of a human childhood,
our mother's linen pressed and stored, our father's voice
walking through the rooms.
He says he's forgiven our sister
for playing dead and making him cry
those afternoons we were left alone in the house.
And when clocks frighten me with their long hair,
and when I spy the wind's numerous hands
in the orchard unfastening
first the petals from the buds,
then the perfume from the flesh,
my dead brother ministers to me. His voice
weighs nothing
but the far years between
stars in their massive dying,
and I grow quiet hearing
how many of both of our tomorrows
lie waiting inside it to be born.
Monday, November 26, 2007
i heard that
There are certain behaviors one should avoid in the auditioning room. Some, perhaps, are unavoidable. At my most recent audition one of the other women auditioning, farted. An audible fart. The auditor heard it. We all heard it. She was not embarrassed. She said a simple 'excuse me' and went on looking over her sides. I chalked it up to a natural occurrence. It is natural after all. These things do happen. But I thought how much I would hate being the auditor in that moment. Maybe it is because I have a tendency toward a 5 year old's humour. Maybe because fart jokes are a staple in my conversations with my smallers. But maybe it is because it is hard to forget any behavior in the auditioning room, that is not positive. It is hard to let go of a moment that does not reflect well on a person. Not that flatulence reflects poorly, but I dare say it is not stellar. It is easy to let it color the rest of the audition.
I hope she did really well and helped them forget.
I hope she did really well and helped them forget.
Friday, November 23, 2007
stuffed
Yesterday started off at something like 70 degrees. Incredible. I got up, prepped turkey and stuffing. Set up the house for the influx of 22 people, sent siblings for last minute trips to grocery stores and at around noon went for a run. My only solo moment of the day. Beautiful outside. Gorgeous leaves falling. Sweet, wonderful run. So perfect. I am so thankful for that short moment.
Thankfulness wants to be expressed to someone, something. Thank you cosmos. Thank you friends. Thank you family.
A couple days ago I was using the dust buster on the stairs and my mother, who was visiting, ran around the corner asking what was making that noise. I held up the dust buster. "Oh, that was eerie." she said "It sounded just like when the sirens go off (in Israel) telling us to get in the shelters."
Thank you for my loved ones being safe so far.
All of my siblings were together yesterday. All seven of us. That is extremely rare. Thank you for our family bond. We are tight and we are friends and we laugh and play together really well. Thank you for the smallers. There were eight of them here yesterday. Thank you for the 'show' they put on for us. Thank you for their inability to keep quiet 'backstage'. It was better than the show. Thank you for the peace that descended when they were finally asleep.
Thank you for it all.
I am a griper. I will go back to griping tomorrow. I do not enjoy Christmas. I, in fact, wish I could keep my blissful Thanksgiving and burrow with it underground until after the New Year.
That is not to be. But for today. Thank you, thank you.
Thankfulness wants to be expressed to someone, something. Thank you cosmos. Thank you friends. Thank you family.
A couple days ago I was using the dust buster on the stairs and my mother, who was visiting, ran around the corner asking what was making that noise. I held up the dust buster. "Oh, that was eerie." she said "It sounded just like when the sirens go off (in Israel) telling us to get in the shelters."
Thank you for my loved ones being safe so far.
All of my siblings were together yesterday. All seven of us. That is extremely rare. Thank you for our family bond. We are tight and we are friends and we laugh and play together really well. Thank you for the smallers. There were eight of them here yesterday. Thank you for the 'show' they put on for us. Thank you for their inability to keep quiet 'backstage'. It was better than the show. Thank you for the peace that descended when they were finally asleep.
Thank you for it all.
I am a griper. I will go back to griping tomorrow. I do not enjoy Christmas. I, in fact, wish I could keep my blissful Thanksgiving and burrow with it underground until after the New Year.
That is not to be. But for today. Thank you, thank you.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
slight drop
So pretty much everything I said would happen, did happen in the Caribbean. The card games were epic, the volleyball was legendary. Much, much mischief occurred. Oh right, and a beautiful wedding that was both laid back and intimate.
On the last leg of our flight back we had some pretty nasty turbulence. I thought of a couple of my friends who are extremely fearful of flying. One in particular. I grew up traveling internationally, but when I go through a patch like that I still turn to look at the flight attendants. If you see them worrying then something is really wrong. The first time I realized that, was coming into Heathrow airport when I was 10 years old. The entire flight had been smooth, and then about 15 minutes from London it got stormy. There was some major shaking and at one point it seemed like the plane free fell for a few seconds. When that happened I saw our flight attendant frantically scramble for her seat and her face was no longer placid, but decidedly strained. That was my most scary moment flying ever. Her face said it all.
Obviously we pulled through, and landed just fine. Then and now.
I actually laughed after the turbulence ended. Partially from relief I guess. Partially because of when it happened. At the end of the trip, three kids at home, me still in my strappy little summer dress with jeans underneath and a sweater over it. So close to Thanksgiving. Will they pull through? How very holiday movie reel. I know the comedy is a little black. But still funny to me.
Now on to turkey day, which I like, then to the dreaded Christmas, which I hate. I am never peaceful until after the New Year. I have a horde coming over on Thursday...so off I go.
On the last leg of our flight back we had some pretty nasty turbulence. I thought of a couple of my friends who are extremely fearful of flying. One in particular. I grew up traveling internationally, but when I go through a patch like that I still turn to look at the flight attendants. If you see them worrying then something is really wrong. The first time I realized that, was coming into Heathrow airport when I was 10 years old. The entire flight had been smooth, and then about 15 minutes from London it got stormy. There was some major shaking and at one point it seemed like the plane free fell for a few seconds. When that happened I saw our flight attendant frantically scramble for her seat and her face was no longer placid, but decidedly strained. That was my most scary moment flying ever. Her face said it all.
Obviously we pulled through, and landed just fine. Then and now.
I actually laughed after the turbulence ended. Partially from relief I guess. Partially because of when it happened. At the end of the trip, three kids at home, me still in my strappy little summer dress with jeans underneath and a sweater over it. So close to Thanksgiving. Will they pull through? How very holiday movie reel. I know the comedy is a little black. But still funny to me.
Now on to turkey day, which I like, then to the dreaded Christmas, which I hate. I am never peaceful until after the New Year. I have a horde coming over on Thursday...so off I go.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
neverending sense
Small sometimes torments Smaller with his big brother-ness. Smaller used to take it, but now has his own awesome, absurd way of dealing with it. This round was just rock and roll.
Small: What is 4oo plus 400?
Smaller: You know I have not learned that yet.
Small: Yeah, but you can figure it out.
Smaller: No I can't, Small, you know you don't learn that until the next grade.
Small: I figured it out.
Smaller: Fine. What is baseball plus star?
Small: That is not a math problem.
Smaller: Wrong! It is two.
Small: How is that two?
Smaller: What is car plus house.
Small: I am not answering.
Smaller: Wrong! It is pizza.
Small: Nevermind.
Smaller: What is heart plus heart?
Small: Zero.
Smaller: No.
Me: What is it?
Smaller: Infinity.
Now how about that?
Small: What is 4oo plus 400?
Smaller: You know I have not learned that yet.
Small: Yeah, but you can figure it out.
Smaller: No I can't, Small, you know you don't learn that until the next grade.
Small: I figured it out.
Smaller: Fine. What is baseball plus star?
Small: That is not a math problem.
Smaller: Wrong! It is two.
Small: How is that two?
Smaller: What is car plus house.
Small: I am not answering.
Smaller: Wrong! It is pizza.
Small: Nevermind.
Smaller: What is heart plus heart?
Small: Zero.
Smaller: No.
Me: What is it?
Smaller: Infinity.
Now how about that?
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
definately skinny dipping
Within the next week my family will slowly migrate here and then in one fell swoop we will all depart to the Caribbean for a destination wedding.
The beach. Mid 80's. I am literally pining for this time. Five days. No smallers. Myself and Mr. hpmelon and my family and friends and the wide open beach.
I will float in the big blue ocean. I love running on the beach. I will do that too. No ipod needed, just beach sounds. I will drink whenever I feel like it. Eat whatever I want. I will snorkel, and read, and hike, and play with my many siblings. We will be loud and funny and finish each others sentences, and get really competitive during beach volleyball, and get so silly while playing cards that our level of obnoxiousness will quickly remove any in-laws from the mix. We will start talking in funny voices that are hysterical only to us. We will speak in code as we always do when we are around each other for more than a day. We will probably fight. We always fight. We always make up. Quickly. And laugh about it. High tempers, high forgiveness. We will get drunk, very drunk. We will start daring each other, and we will all do the dares. The in-laws will return for this. They love this. Watching our bravado. When we feel like Titans. We are a fantastic show.
Or maybe we will just sleep and be boring a laze around on the beach. That could happen too. It would be a first, but you never know. Either way sounds perfectly great to me.
So soon, I can taste it.
The beach. Mid 80's. I am literally pining for this time. Five days. No smallers. Myself and Mr. hpmelon and my family and friends and the wide open beach.
I will float in the big blue ocean. I love running on the beach. I will do that too. No ipod needed, just beach sounds. I will drink whenever I feel like it. Eat whatever I want. I will snorkel, and read, and hike, and play with my many siblings. We will be loud and funny and finish each others sentences, and get really competitive during beach volleyball, and get so silly while playing cards that our level of obnoxiousness will quickly remove any in-laws from the mix. We will start talking in funny voices that are hysterical only to us. We will speak in code as we always do when we are around each other for more than a day. We will probably fight. We always fight. We always make up. Quickly. And laugh about it. High tempers, high forgiveness. We will get drunk, very drunk. We will start daring each other, and we will all do the dares. The in-laws will return for this. They love this. Watching our bravado. When we feel like Titans. We are a fantastic show.
Or maybe we will just sleep and be boring a laze around on the beach. That could happen too. It would be a first, but you never know. Either way sounds perfectly great to me.
So soon, I can taste it.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
hang my head low
It was all over before it began. This was in my email inbox...
We're sad to announce that the dance party with The Decemberists has been canceled due to a member of the band falling ill. Besides our show, The Decemberists have canceled the rest of their "Long and Short of It" tour, which included the four 9:30 Club dates next week. We wish them well and hope to have them back on the mountain soon.
Now I have to tell the Smallers. Yeesh.
We're sad to announce that the dance party with The Decemberists has been canceled due to a member of the band falling ill. Besides our show, The Decemberists have canceled the rest of their "Long and Short of It" tour, which included the four 9:30 Club dates next week. We wish them well and hope to have them back on the mountain soon.
Now I have to tell the Smallers. Yeesh.
bombazine doll
I think I did it. I am hoping they send some sort of confirmation email. But I got the page online that said we were in.
I elbowed my way in and got myself and the Smallers signed up for Pancake Mountain's Dance Party! The Decemberists! Holy shit!
I have wanted to take them to one of these dance parties since I found out about Pancake Mountain, but have always had a rehearsal or a show.
We have missed Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley, Arcade Fire, The Go! Team and many more. But I signed on at frickin' 8:30 am and got the 4 of us in.
The Smallers are going to freak. They love The Crane Wife. Smallest walks around singing 'Here are the bombs that fade away...' (repeat 100 times). I put The Crane Wife 3 and Red Right Ankle on Small and Smaller's night time mix CD.
When I was knocked up with Small, I was obsessed with listening to only classical music. I read all of the books...make your baby's brain grow...blah blah blah. With Smaller I played classical music, but listened to my ipod so I could let us both have our music. Smallest had to listen to whatever the hell I felt like listening to. In the end all three would rather listen to Led Zeppelin than Beethoven; and all three are smart enough to stage a coupe and take over this house, this country and bring down democracy as we know it. Little anarchists.
Now if I can just get them to use their powers for good...
I elbowed my way in and got myself and the Smallers signed up for Pancake Mountain's Dance Party! The Decemberists! Holy shit!
I have wanted to take them to one of these dance parties since I found out about Pancake Mountain, but have always had a rehearsal or a show.
We have missed Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley, Arcade Fire, The Go! Team and many more. But I signed on at frickin' 8:30 am and got the 4 of us in.
The Smallers are going to freak. They love The Crane Wife. Smallest walks around singing 'Here are the bombs that fade away...' (repeat 100 times). I put The Crane Wife 3 and Red Right Ankle on Small and Smaller's night time mix CD.
When I was knocked up with Small, I was obsessed with listening to only classical music. I read all of the books...make your baby's brain grow...blah blah blah. With Smaller I played classical music, but listened to my ipod so I could let us both have our music. Smallest had to listen to whatever the hell I felt like listening to. In the end all three would rather listen to Led Zeppelin than Beethoven; and all three are smart enough to stage a coupe and take over this house, this country and bring down democracy as we know it. Little anarchists.
Now if I can just get them to use their powers for good...
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