Wreckage

Catalyst is almost done!! so happy!! The semester is almost over, and I can't wait to get home already! i just have to get stupid JYA shit together. That's my only worry at the moment. Maybe I should be paying more attention to the presentation I have to give tomorrow that I haven't started. ho hum.

Spent some alone time with the boy last night. It was nice to just be friends. I mean, it would be nicer if we were more but I'll accept what I can get because we do make good friends. again, ho hum.

wrote a poem today in faulkner lecture about this crazy feeling I had while I was at my dad's.

it's a sudden recognition-
the feeling of inertia pulling at your atoms
momentum shifting, waking you from a moving slumber.
waiting for impact,
I free my hands from my pockets,
grip my possessions thinking I could save them.
waiting for the crunch of metal,
the snapping and twisting of structure
like bumper cars and battering rams.
just beyond the bend I'll see the lights in my window
limbs flailing like ribbons in the wind.
but the vision was second handed
before me is wreckage and I am still moving.

yeah, I had this vision of a car hitting us broad side and it felt real. it was crazy, but then we turned around the bend in the road and there was a fairly fresh wreck at the intersection. weird!!

Frustration

I'm doing the layout for a magazine here at Vassar and it's taking forever. Why? because people are killing me. The editor of the magazine is not doing his job at all right now when I need him the most. Layout is due on Friday and I JUST got a submition that someone had sent him in October. ARGH. I guess I signed up for this... but I didn't sign up for the run around. I'm also a little worried about the lack of female submitions. The three we do have are photographs and a recipe. How's that for gender roles? Let the men tell you how it is and how it should be while the girls will take some pretty pictures and tell you how to make soup! it's vegan too!

Being at my dad's this weekend for thanksgiving was a real treat and break. I got to see so many people that I love- it was a real battery. It wasn't until today when I sat down to my computer and started thinking about the work I have ahead that I started to feel out of sorts again. But, I'm doing my best and not letting myself get down right now. If not getting down means being mad... then so be it for the moment.

I love my wife. I love my wife.

Un Dia de Gracias

Thanksgiving is such a hoax. Created by Lincoln about an event that never really occured. Even if the Native Americans did bring the pilgrims food to help them survive the next winter, what did they get in return? Do I even need to list the atrocities?

Maybe I've been indoctrinated by my Native American Studies courses and lectures over the past year and a half, but I feel as though days like today and Columbus day need to be reevaluated. I do not think that Thanksgiving needs to be abolished. I think it needs to be converted into a day where little children don't color in images of indian braves and stoic pilgrims. It should be based soley on being thankful for the outright spoils we, as Americans, take for granted. Just the fact that millions of people can afford to have a day off to over eat is a priviledge.

More importantly, we should be mindful that there are people in our own country of plenty that are without and cannot afford to splurge on a new centerpiece this year. This year for Thanksgiving, my mother and grandfather volunteered at the local Presbyterian church handing out meals. Tonight they are having a modest meal together, actually being thankful for the life they lead. Sadly, I could not be with them this year as I am spending the holiday with my father.

I guess the summation of this rant reduces down to two things:
1) The subjigation of the Native Americans is real. It is present. Do not celebrate acts of white supremecy and domination.
2) Be thankful that you are alive and well. You are reading this blog, so no matter how you want to look at your life, you are priviledged enough to have internet access and the free and idle time to read this.

peace, love and mindfullness,
M

Oppression Sucks

We had to do a free write in Psych today. I actually liked her today, but then again, we weren't really learning much as usual. This is what I wrote.

Speaking of Trivialities and social Constructs
as though we ought Not to be Caught up in their Presence
What would we Talk about if they Just Disappeared?
love? Stories of Childhood?
What builds us Up instead of Oppresses?
but they Exist
we Make them exist by Giving in
we must think Critically and lay It all out
for once we Desensitize the word
it Loses its Power.

i find myself in this limbo state of becoming so annoyed with people who are overly critical and constantly searching for the oppression in statements and actions yet becoming frustrated with people that completely overlook that there are statements of oppression in our lives. in the end, i realize that it's better to be overly critical than not critical at all because that way you'll at least be questioning the system and burgeoning change and growth.

above is a sketch I did in my Faulkner lecture.

In Blackness, Without Sound

step inside and shut the door.
sealed in darkness and in warmth.
floating independent of foundation and wall.
simply existing by the sense of touch-
terry nubs soft and thick,
linen and merino wool.
the softest skin against my skin
in blackness, without sound.


written after a trip in my closet. I was super preoccupied with the idea of losing existence when only you can sense yourself (hearing your own breath, feeling your own body) and how people only really exist because we can sense them. my closet can be pitch black once you shut the door, so if someone else is in there with you, you have to rely on touch, sound, and scent to manifest them. Also, there are of course tons of clothes in my closet that created an overload of a single sensory experience. I really do recommend this kind of personal sensory experiment. You never realize the pleasure of your senses until you isolate and appreciate them.

Synthetic/Organic

This is my first post, obviously. I've never been great at keeping blogs. I hope to use this for my musings, posting photos, poems, and whatever else hits the spot. Hopefully I'll learn how to post mp3s. Sharing is nice.

Here's a poem I wrote about a month ago.

induced to love all around,
spellbound by triplets and chords.
feeling of sparkles like medicine candy,
knowing the end is near and
welcoming me open armed.
simpleness divided by clutter and culture.
letting it all go to become one,
become one. become one.

wanting to love,
slick slippery love
like warm rolling hills
of misty morning bliss.
crimson fingertips of petally touch
blossoming natural love-
the essence of lust,
coupled with devotion.

I was rolling and had the urge to create. I was just so enamored with the world at the moment that even things like "clutter and culture" and "the end" that often haunt me and create disharmony in my life could not stop me from adoring every last bit of life. Clutter being assigned to all that clogs our minds and hearts and even literally space and keeps us from living to the fullest. The end of the first stanza, "become one", helps to illustrate my view that as people we should look for commonality and attempt to work together by accepting the "clutter and culture" rather than building walls and creating imaginary segments amongst ourselves. The last stanza calls attention to the synthetic aspect of my "love" in the first stanza (induced to love... medicine candy) and shifts to how I want to feel real organic love.

peace love and solidarity,
M