From Jan 27: "25 Random Things"
1 - I abhor these kinds of excercizes, as they always leave me contemplating the mysteries of my Self. Some little idiosyncracy gets glaringly revealed, and then I have to grapple with that, in public.
2 - Poetry is feeling a tenderness toward this existence named life, and having to write it out to understand why it is.
3 - The older I become, the more I realize that family is the only thing that really matters. Being in a family provides one with lessons in love, forgiveness and humor. I'm grateful for mine.
4 - I also believe that my friends are the best people I know. They are the good people who provide me the high mark against which I measure myself. Thank you.
5 - I am not a kind person, but I'm honest. I won't give you praise for a mediocre performance that leaves me feeling unfulfilled; however, I will wait in line until the cows come home to let you know when your genius has inspired me.
6 - I like Emily Dickinson because we both have felt the need to hide; I adore e.e. cummings because we both laugh with all the energy we can muster; I revere Gerard Manley Hopkins because we both are in a beautiful struggle to understand the "WHY" of God.
7 - The best jokes are dirty. They're even funnier when someone in the room just doesn't get it.
8 - I want to wake up, some warm, lazy Sunday, and read Pablo Neruda's sonnets to the one I love as light cascades inside from the windows.
9 - If I ever have children, I will fingerpaint with them. We will search for spiders' webs and toadstools and all the secret things Nature keeps until you find them, and fill with wonder. I will teach them to love the freedom of their voices by letting them sing. And I will most definitely make them sit beside me, watching Cinderella, The Fox and the Hound, Finding Nemo, Wall-E and every movie starring Audrey Hepburn.
10 - I love the feeling of having mud caked on my body! My favorite YM/YW activites were on fall nights when we would soak a big field and play mud football. I absolutely relish how the squishiness between your toes and on your legs and under your shirt and in your hair becomes a crust you flake off in little pieces. Possibly, this is why I crave facials when I am at the beauty college.
11 - I think "Tickle My Fingers" is the most brilliant expression I have ever come up with.
12 - I say I'm afraid of rabbits (I am!), but I really fear other people. And being alone in a house at night. And trust.
13 - I really, really would like to gain 30 lbs. Really.
14 - When I feel morose, I bake. The Eccles boys really liked it when I was having a bad day.
15 - I hate carrying spare change because it jingles. I usually put any change I get from the cashier into the spare change jar. Don't ask me for pennies, because I don't keep them. But don't be surprised if I ask you for a couple.
16 - Indoor plumbing is miraculous, but public restrooms are banal.
17 - I absolutely delight in certain curse words. Sometime, when you're playing the Wii, and you think you get a brake from dancing with those damn rabbits, and the dancing keeps going, you must yell, "What?!? I can't quit? I've been moving like a bitch on crack!" That just tastes good.
18 - On the other hand, there are words I detest. Any time a person uses their words to degrade another, to dehumanize--this is evil.
19 - I may have forgotten what the Pythagorean theorem is, but at least I can spell Pythagorean!
20 - My soul longs for Tuscany. I will live there for two years when I have completed my doctoral degree, and then rent a summer villa every year thereafter.
21 - Looking at the stars reminds me of the way I felt as a little boy when Mom would make us waffles or pancakes in the morning: small, and wonderfully content.
22 - Post-it notes irritate me. Annotations do not.
23 - I grew up with poor grammar. Some things can be overcome.
24 - I don't enjoy texting -- I would rather speak with you on the phone, and I don't enjoy speaking on the phone, either.
25 - I'm finished!
All of it still rings true. :D
Showing posts with label just because. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just because. Show all posts
Saturday, June 12, 2010
First Posts
I love finding new blogs of interest (or returning to my favorite old clicks), scrolling down the right side of the screen, perusing the blog archives and post titles as I search for the very first post of the blog I'm currently reading. It's so fun for me to see the reason, the motivation, the seed which flowered and became your blog. Blogs aren't ever completed works and it's so fascinating to read the progressive snippets of writers' lives, to speculate about why you chose to write about this post or upload this photo, to guess at the before and the after of the events you share. I heartily enjoy comparing whatever post I'm reading to your initial post, trying to decide how or if this post fits into the picture of what you wrote your blog might be. I love reading your blogs--so much!
So, today I went back and read my first post, trying to decide if I've kept on track with what I thought my blog would become. I'm not sure that I quite knew what I was going to write about when I wrote it. I had an inchoate idea that I'd be writing big thoughts about poetry and philosophy and music and literature and how these things help me understand and love and accept divinity in my life--that my blog would be my shrine to the arts and why they are so needed in making the lives of any human being more related to the sacred, maybe. It's not though; I think it's become a place where I describe small moments of revelation and beauty and love and anger and peace, times when I'm surprised by joy, those moments which unveil the confusion and beauty and clarity of this being that is me.
I look more sharply for those kinds of every day epiphanies than I did before deciding to keep a blog. I don't write about them every day, but I do find them: a funny joke lightening up a heavy rehearsal; a wobbly roan-colored foal nuzzling its mother on HWY 89; civiche at the Sonora Grill; watering the rosebushes in the front yard. These moments are the petals on the flower of my life, those beautiful times where I'm unafraid to pick myself, to revel in the glee of living, to thank God for reminding me that small holinesses are, more often than not, so much more moving than excessive pageantries.
So, today I went back and read my first post, trying to decide if I've kept on track with what I thought my blog would become. I'm not sure that I quite knew what I was going to write about when I wrote it. I had an inchoate idea that I'd be writing big thoughts about poetry and philosophy and music and literature and how these things help me understand and love and accept divinity in my life--that my blog would be my shrine to the arts and why they are so needed in making the lives of any human being more related to the sacred, maybe. It's not though; I think it's become a place where I describe small moments of revelation and beauty and love and anger and peace, times when I'm surprised by joy, those moments which unveil the confusion and beauty and clarity of this being that is me.
I look more sharply for those kinds of every day epiphanies than I did before deciding to keep a blog. I don't write about them every day, but I do find them: a funny joke lightening up a heavy rehearsal; a wobbly roan-colored foal nuzzling its mother on HWY 89; civiche at the Sonora Grill; watering the rosebushes in the front yard. These moments are the petals on the flower of my life, those beautiful times where I'm unafraid to pick myself, to revel in the glee of living, to thank God for reminding me that small holinesses are, more often than not, so much more moving than excessive pageantries.
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