Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Either Side of the Jordan River

Either side of the Jordan River
I would look to the right or to the left
Distracted by the every day
From the miraculous.

In the Promised Land
Lots drawn; living in a city I did not build.
Harvesting the fruit
Of vines I did not plant
You have chosen me
Not by the merits of my lineage
Far from the righteousness that true love for You creates
You have chosen me
To do the work.
Your victory is certain.

The young man mocks the old
Disparaging the laws he wears around his wrist
And on his forehead.
The young man praises folly as wisdom
The fool as enviable.
I will not follow, I will repent.

My rebelling flesh
Falling further, weakening with each generation
Though I do not have the strength
To bear a spear as heroes of old
Pitiable is the fate of my foes
Your victory is certain.

Though fleas bite me
Diseases plague me
Though I turn from You
You have drawn me near
The sweet scent drifing on smoke
A pleasant odor I have not deserved
Your victory is certain.

Here comes the smolder.

Pretty provocative title. I can't deliver on the promise.

It was my birthday weekend. It was fun. Went out with friends downtown on Friday. Went to Lucy's 4th birthday party on Saturday and then went to the opera with my classmate/friend on Saturday and spent time in with Bob and the kids and my parents on Sunday. Now I'm 28. It's fine.

Saturday morning Winslows.

Super Solly reading Super Hero Squad.

Friend Hannah and I studying for our "Listening Quiz".

Pre-opera Selfie.

Walked in and found Solomon conducting with a plumbing part and singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes."

Dining at Metropole.

Marley and Solomon cuddling in their sleep.

My little Hobbits are inspired too hurry by the promise of second breakfast at school. They came a little late on this day but they snuck muffins in the hallway.

Marley is all-lady.

Monday, February 25, 2013

RIP Snarfer

Solomon just wandered into our room. Hair mussed, eyes blinking against the light. Something in each of his hands.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
He holds up the somethings and says, "Snarfer broken."
He had chewed through the end of his last snarfer (pacifier). He seemed disturbed and bemused. He wandered over next to my bed and climbed into my lap. I was trying to figure out some type of recovery move that wouldn't involve tears or therapy bills. He repeated, "Snarfer broken."

Then he tried to put the two jagged chewed rubber ends together, trying to get them to stick together. Making little sounds of exertion. I decided to take an observer approach, instead of a director approach. "Oh that is sad. Your snarfer is broken but it can't be fixed."

He just held the two ends in his hand and then made a little ah-ha noise and said, "Marley! Be right back." He ran back into their room to see if she could fix it but she was asleep. He came back and got into my lap again and I held him while he (seemed to) contemplate his situation. He thrust the pieces at me and I took them, putting them discreetly in my pocket, hidden from view.

Then I carried him back to his racecar bed and tucked him in with his yellow bear and he said "Love you too Mommy." (He always adds the "too" no matter who says it first).

To which I replied, "I love you too Solomon. Night night."

Friday, February 22, 2013


I don't know if I only listen to music with lyrics (in English) when I am restless or if listening to music with lyrics in English is what causes me to be restlessness in the first place. 

I have read everything on the internet.

I get in these moody, prepossessed rhythms and I cannot navigate from them except to bide my time. Keeping myself from causing myself or other people permanent psychiatric damage. It is days like this when I need a holocaust cloak.

It really bothers me to get scores below what I expected to receive. I got a 90% on a written assignment and  on a test given back to me today and on both occasions... I got a little mad. Sure, it's an A, but it isn't an ego-stroking, value-defining, smug-smile-validating A. It's a teacher-was-nice A. Buh.

Buh. First world problems.

This blog is a little misleading. My life is going great right now if you don't include 2:50-3:20 today. Which I don't. I've blocked it out.
Enter Stage Life

Romantically, invariably
Again. Again. Again.
Rinse, repeat if desired.
Again. Again. Again.

Ten feet tall and outspoken.
Five feet six and wide-eyed
(Always smiling).

Again. Again. Again.
A recycled fascination (it just works!)
When the faraway fairy tale
Goes round charmingly
Familiar, reassuring
Keep it at arm's length
Again. Again. Again.

Living in the city you did not build
Stand proud upon the battlements
Jeering cleverly at the foe
(Admiring his tenacity)
But at arm's length.

Monday, February 18, 2013

The uniform.

With the amount of absolute filth they put in movies it really is amazing that the world isn't now completely overrun by pedophiles and rapists. How much more are we going to up the ante in mainstream media before we draw the line about what we will allow to be put before us, what we will pay for? How many preteens can we dress like whores and then follow wantonly after their social lives, screaming against them when they end up acting, like whores?

"The girl says “Oh uh-uh, wait a minute! Wait a minute! Just because I’m dressed this way does not make me a whore!” Which is true. Gentlemen, that is true. Just because they dress a certain way doesn't mean they are a certain way. Don’t ever forget it. But ladies, you must understand that is f***ing confusing. It just is. Now that would be like me, Dave Chappelle, the comedian, walking down the street in a cop uniform. Somebody might run up on me, saying, “Oh, thank God. Officer, help us! Come on. They’re over here. Help us!” “Oh-hoh! Just because I’m dressed this way does not make me a police officer!” See what I mean? All right, ladies, fine. You are not a whore. But you are wearing a whore’s uniform." -Dave Chapelle

Saturday, February 16, 2013


Does it require a psychological disorder to have one of those days when you are on high alert? Just waiting for something that would definitely make the local news because of its rating on the creepy terrible scale?

If it does, I never have those days. *cough*
If it doesn't, I have been having one of those days for two weeks.

Imagine me, if you will, meerkat style. I have managed to find a neutral spine but only to facilitate the full range of motion for a paranoid head swivel.

I keep praying for feelings of security to no avail. Possibly due to the head swiveling.

I have written about 1000 words in my book this month. I will never meet my self-imposed deadline unless I do something drastic. Like... stop being such a dumbass and just work on it.

I have been incredibly fortunate in my classes these last two semesters. Many helpful, bright and interested teachers... and those professors who fail to contribute academically to my success, find other unintentional ways of inspiring me. Like providing assignments that more or less correspond with personal projects I had been meaning to do anyway.

Working in the Veterans' Affairs office teaches one that "Hurry up and wait" really ought to be the saying that made it onto US currency. It certainly shouldn't be "In God we trust." Because those veterans I serve don't trust anybody. They remind me of meerkats actually.

This may be the first time in ten years of blogging that I have mentioned meerkats three times in a single blog.

Jan Dussek

"There was ... something magical about the way in which Dussek with all his

charming grace of manner, through his wonderful touch, extorted from the

instrument delicious and at the same time emphatic tones. His fingers were like

a company of ten singers, endowed with equal executive powers and able to

produce with the utmost perfection whatever their director could require.”

Jan Vaclav Tomasek (Autobiography, 1802)

Failed student. Failed businessman. Failed lover. Brilliant musician. Jan Ladislav Dussek’s ability and range contributed inspiration to innovations in the very workings of the pianoforte and the way music was performed. Dussek traveled all around the world, changing lives for better or worse as he went. Accused of plotting against Catherine the Great, becoming a darling of Marie Antoinette, abandoning his business partner to debtor’s prison, and granting his wife the separation she longed for only upon his death. A visionary of romantic works who lived during the Classical period.

While demonstrating a range in compositional styles, Dussek clearly favored the piano and harp. A prolific body of work and much of it either prominently featuring or exclusively for the pianoforte, or in later years, the 6 foot piano. It is the romantic style of his piano works that interest me most. Hailed as a genius wherever he went despite composing music that was not yet in fashion; breaking with tradition before culture was ready. Few artists will receive acclaim for their natural or hard-won talents, so to achieve recognition (even celebration in Dussek’s case) while composing and performing in an avant-garde way (in relation to the style of the time).

“Elegie Harmonique” was the first song that led to my interest in Dussek, morose delicacy in a plaintiff minor key only to pick up speed, lending to a feeling of a changeable mood. The larger part of his body of his work fell more in line with the zeitgeist of the Classical period; that thick-textured, building polyphony that demonstrates so artfully the abilities of both orchestra and instrument. Listening to it several times through, I was able to reinterpret each time. That is something I deeply appreciate in  music. Not being forcibly lead but left to draw my own conclusions about the meaning and emotion of the work. “The Farewell” was the second of his works that drew my interest. It has the feeling of driving forward, as does much of classical music I have heard but it still leaves to the imagination, reinvention.

In modern times Dussek has become a lesser known composer, though certainly not forgotten. His works are purported to have influenced Beethoven, his range to have led to the addition to chords in the pianoforte, and not least of his contributions and perhaps the most far-reaching, was his performing for audiences so that they were presented with his profile and a side-view of the piano.

Compared to other composers and musicians of the medieval, Baroque and Classical periods, Dussek had little to do with Catholic or Protestant churches. Though he performed as organist and choir boy, he did not receive any significant assistance or advancement in his field from his compositions for the church. Secular pieces and his gentlemanly behavior gained favor with royals and gave him the necessary propulsion to maintain a brilliant career with successful receptions all over Europe. This too would become less unusual as time passed but he was one of the first to have been blessed with such fame (in his day) without the direct promotion of the church.

            I found studying Dussek’s body of work entertaining, making efforts to notice the “romantic” elements within the otherwise Classical music. Though sadly, few of his works are available online, free to the public and many can only be accessed through extraordinary efforts, proving only to be worth it after closer inspection.



















Monday, February 4, 2013


Human Diversity Assignment (which was a college assignment which closely ressembled a kindergarten assignment).
On the outside of my folder I put a picture of what people see when they look at me. I presented it in the standard format of the day. Self-inflicted camera phone picture in the bathroom mirror; facebook style. Wearing my favorite chunky sweater in full make-up regalia, hair mostly ignored. That is my exterior. Uninteresting; not extraordinary in any way.
On the tab I put my student ID number; the unerring largely unchangeable 7 number sequence which describes my college career at Cincinnati State Community and Technical College. Digits representing the storied and terrifying permanent record. No frills, no fun, identifying only.
Inside: A demonstration of my propensity for wordiness. A practice in assignment-bending to suit the solution that I formed in my head when I mind-mapped ideas. Possessing only Bon Appetit magazines, I felt that I could not be fairly summed up by seasonal ingredients and new recipe takes on old favorites. So rather than outsourcing to the internet and stealing other people’s intellectual property I used words… lots and lots of words. They’re what I am good at, what I love. Why say less, when you can say more?
I put the words that seemed the most pertinent and relevant in current times in the largest print. Artist, honest, mother, writer, impatient, Christian, yogini. Words I encounter in my every day, almost my every thought. Other words, pertinent but less insistent filling in the spaces around my primary descriptions. Some of them are directly contradictory. Simple; complicated, because I am both of these things. They have not created a word complex enough to summate my personality. Nor have they photographed it in magazines.
I’m not being egocentric. Though you will find vain in my descriptive words. People are complicated and you cannot reasonably expect to know anyone in a glance or from a brief summary. So I included some of the pictures featuring myself that make me happy. I think that you can hope to know a little bit about someone by knowing what it is, that makes them happy. The photos include a picture of my children Marley and Solomon, my husband, and I just being together in the warm weather enjoying our first family vacation. A photo of my husband and I celebrating my 27th birthday (the money is fake). A photo of myself working to finish painting our kitchen in our new house, tasks unfinished are still tasks, tasks completed are satisfaction. A photo of me and two of my close friends being goofier and louder than the situation really calls for.
What did I learn about myself? For the last ten years I have been extremely focused (almost to a preoccupying extent) with self-reflection. I would dare say many women my age are. So I didn’t learn anything new about myself. Just enjoyed the opportunity to speak at length on a subject which I know nearly everything and yet, next to nothing about.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

What you do to the least of these..

Deuteronomy 1:17
When you judge them, treat everyone the same. Listen to those who are important and those who are not. Don't be afraid of any man. God is the highest judge. Bring me any case that is too hard for you. I'll listen to it."

If American law permits a parent to end the life of their unborn child then what does it matter if American law permits two people of the same sex to get married?
American law has proven to be nothing sincerely related to Christianity, no matter what the mythes about the founding fathers claim. People will answer as individuals to God when they die, perhaps before. So as individuals we have to observe the precepts of Jesus Christ. When we remove individual accountability by putting political and secular laws in place, we remove the heart of a personal relationship with God. We alienate those people, reserving their sin as something altogether different from our own. But all sin is the same.

You cannot have two masters. I will not serve a country. I will follow God. I do not have to choose what is right and what is wrong for other people. He has already done that. All I can do is speak what I know to be true in the circumstances God provides me.

I'm tired of seeing the rage and disgust that same sex relationships cause in Christians. You must not condone it but don't embrace the single mother with one arm while pushing out against homosexuals with the other. All sin is the same. Her promiscuity, their homosexuality, your tendency to gossip or complain. The only thing seperating the lost and the saved is God's grace. We didn't do for ourselves, He did for us. Humble yourself before Him. I will try to do the same.


Solomon doign yoga.
Me enjoying an installation by Ebony Patterson. AMAZING.
Casual dining.
Headstand fever.
My beautiful little girl.
The Ice Queen builds a minion.
Ninja practice in the elevator.

Songs about rainbows.

What is the most we ever gain from saying something mean? A laugh maybe. But that type of laughter isn't the kind that heals.