A Swiftly Tilting Planet

2) Looking out the window...

2008-07-06T14:56:00.000-05:00

It’s daylight right now. Just noon. That window in my parent’s room looks down into the side yard, an adjoined city lot, divided from the house by the driveway. It used to have a beautiful garden that was my dad’s joy. It was the shape of a digital ‘C’ around the perimeter of the yard. The West arm was barricaded by the thick stone wall of the garage, but mostly by the rhubarb that grew in front of it. The south faced the chain link fence we and the neighbors shared, and the East was where the peonies met the Vegetables. It was glorious. Now it’s all grassed over save the West section. The rhubarb will forever flourish in the territory we’ve allowed to take over and the tomatoes are still there too. They don’t go away. But it’s not lush like it used to be and it’s my mom’s garden now. She’s trying to hang on too. She has preserved it, but my dad was the one that cultivated it. He was an excellent gardener.

Being a gardener now myself I have an appreciation for his partnership with the earth. They worked together. My yard hasn’t quite been tamed yet and I don’t seem to manage the weeds very well. They often get the best of me. Or, rather, the best of my plants. The hit below the belt.

Gardening is an unspoken tradition in my family. I can only assume the great-grands gardened, but I know my dad’s dad did. In the town they lived in, Lily Dale, NY, he had a small plot in the community. No one’s yards were accommodating enough for anyone to plant at home, so there was a significant town plot. He grew things here.

I don’t know when my dad started, but as far as I’m concerned, about eternity ago. I entered into a cultivated earth life. We had fresh tomatoes all through the summer. I at cucumbers off the vine often leaving none for the salad my mom wanted them for. I didn’t like eggplant at the time, but I liked how it looked; rich purple with a vibrant green stem. A color combination I wasn’t so bold to yet place in my own art as I was in my dark charcoal stage, well, for most of my teen years.

We had mint along the fence in the SW corner of the ‘C’ garden and when the neighbor’s dog that I was afraid of wasn’t outside I would enjoy picking the leaves off the vine and eating a them.

My dad’s sisters also garden, and they create elaborate plans. Dad is the second from the bottom out of 4. The only boy. He’s the last male Swift, making me the very last of all Swift’s in our family. He would never be sorry he had a girl, but he wanted more children. My mom wanted a career. Thus… no siblings. I wanted an older brother. So I guess he and I wanted the same thing. I, as an adult, have that in my cousin. He’s the next oldest from me in the first generation of cousins and was just glad he missed being the youngest by 1.

Diane, the oldest and the assumed matriarch since Nana, my dad’s mom, passed on in ’94, has an exquisite garden. She also enjoys cooking a great deal, so the two go hand in hand for her. Cindy, the youngest of the siblings, lives out a ways from the city in an old farm house in Hamlin. She also has done a beautiful job with her earth. These two go to great lengths to create themes each year for their dirt. It’s the teacher in them; all things function in themes and units. Teaching and gardening: These are two things my family does exceptionally well.

I began a garden the first year I lived in my apartment in Illinois. I was fortunate to find the first floor of a house when I moved to Rock Island and the landlord was kind enough to give me the backyard and let me do what I wanted with it. I didn’t really even think much about it. It was summer… you plant things. And so the spirit continued.

1) What's come to mind... one thing to the next...

2008-07-06T00:17:00.001-05:00

I got to Rochester this past Wednesday and have been writing since the moment I walked in the door. For some reason, this trip has incited the need to just throw a stream of consciousness onto paper... so I have...

So far...

I walked in the door around noon on Wednesday to the most familiar place I’ve ever known my whole life. My parents bought the house directly from Fred Miller in 1974. He had built in 1917. Bill and Maggie were the second owners of the house. For the past 10 years I’ve wanted to be the third.

They’ve lived here 34 years. I realize now how very much, though I am always welcome here, this was never my house. This was their purchase together, saying “this will be our life.” There have been birthdays, endless cook outs, singing sessions in the kitchen, backyard and living room. Holidays including every Christmas Dinner for the past 30+ years that, for a long time, while there were still children, included an original choreographed version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” by Uncle Larry. I have missed the past 7.

I have wafted in and out of a variety of events and happenings, faces that frequent the kitchen counter having coffee or dinner, house projects and various other things… and I have always just drifted through these scenes without landing… because it’s someone else’s lives: my parents’.

All these things considered, I have roots here.

In the past few years, I can’t even say when it started, I have come to miss Rochester deeply. Even though it hasn’t been a permanent residence to me, really, since I left for College, it is home. And as I continue to learn more about who I am, who I’m growing to be, “home” has some different sounds to it. And it’s not where I am now. I live in the place I have an address… but it’s not home.

I remembered that when I walked in the door that I am never home in the summer anymore. I come home every Thanksgiving. I make it home once a year really. But I opened the door and was immediately back being the age of sometime when I lived there. We’ve never had central air in the house. So we just would open every ancient window that would budge and be propped up and let the air in. Mom set up box fans in the hallways and you did you best to stay cool. This was the scene that greeted me.

The front and back doors were open, and every window in between. Curtains lifted on the breezes and danced as far out into the room as the rods would allow. The scent in the house was indescribable by any words but I knew what it had mixed into it and it was right. I knew what seasons and memories and rooms were sent into the air together.

I went upstairs where my parents were, carrying the beast known as my bag up to the second floor and found my mom making my bed up. She loves doing this. I appreciate it. Mom’s are always moms.

Where I land when I’m home is not the room I grew up in. We have a basic 4 square style house. It’s set up in quadrants: Front hall with stairway up, living room, dining room, kitchen all going in a circle back to the front hall. Upstairs, you step up into a central hall with 6 doors. Bathroom is straight ahead. Two bedrooms to the left, two to the right. Attic door is next to the stairway entrance.

My room used to be the one that faces the street in the far left corner of the hallway. The street light shined in the window every night and I don’t know why I never got wise to the idea that I had shades. I was afraid of the dark, that’s probably why.

However, I relinquished my bedroom one summer, unknowingly forever, for the upstairs back porch. The room was never anything more than simply a trash collection site for anything we didn’t just carry the extra 12 steps to the attic. It was off of what we called the den (room off the hall to the right of the top of the stairs). The “den” really was also a collection site that mostly marauded around as a guest room. A very crowded guest room.

The back porch upstairs was really untouched from the very point my parents had moved in. Every now and then I would attempt some level of organization when I decided I needed a new hide-out. It was always a place to look at the stars. I once saw the Northern lights from the North corner. But I only moved stuff around and stacked it differently. It was never cleaned.

During the time I was living at home for a few months post college I did a number of projects around the house just trying to stay sane. The back porch was one of them. It was cleared, painted, carpeted and new windows were eventually put in. This became my favorite room in the house. It’s now my room when I’m home. It’s just 5’x12', but three sides are all windows and it’s magnificent during late fall when I’m home to fall asleep watching the snow fall or looking at the stars.

But sometimes I miss theroom that I slept in as a kid because it’s like saying goodbye to a section of my life… and I don’t handle that well. My mom calls it hers now. My parents, though they love each other, just don't sleep in the same room anymore... somehow snoring has something to do with it. I don't know.

My room had the front porch roof just out of the window that faces east. In Middle School or High School I realized how easy it was to take the screen out and began to frequent evenings out on ot, sitting, again, to look at the stars. Indigo Girls, the Sugarcubes, R.E.M., the Beatles, Kate Bush, Michael Hedges… all voices coming from the tape deck inside as I would sit and watch the cars go by.

I was hit by all these things walking through the house. Enough, at least, that when my parents emptied the second floor after all greetings has been established, I laid down on my dad’s spot on his bed where I used to sleep next to my mom when he was away on business or a boat trip, and propped my chin up on the window sill that was just at mattress level. I was reacting.

I used to do this and look out the window at the stars and feel the breeze feathering my face when I was younger. It hurt my teeth to have them clenched for so long as my neck stretched to rest on the sill, but I loved the feeling, and what it smelled like when I was young: the wood of the window frame, the screen of the window, the air. Especially when it rained. I loved laying there when it rained.

They’ve since bought a new bed and it’s taller so it didn't feel quite right, but when I laid down on it I buried my nose in the stripped wood and breathed in. My senses searched until I caught the bitter depth of the scent I was looking for. I almost cried.

Copenhagen

2008-02-27T12:35:00.005-06:00

This is where I'm going next. Anyone been there? What should I see?

I will at least be going here - Hamlet's castle - mr. Prince of Denmark. Maybe cross over to Sweden for the afternoon. I'm so addicted to traveling.

Of Course it Did... Again...

2008-02-13T12:48:00.001-06:00

It's one thing when my car traps me...

...It's entirely another when I go to pick up my car from the garage and the guy tells me it happened to him.

He was able to climb out the passenger side door.

Oh my gosh... my car habitually eats people.

Of Course it Did

2008-01-25T11:47:00.001-06:00

It's been cold. Really cold. I woke in a fog the other morning hearing the guy on the radio say that the windchill was -35. I watched something the other day about people in Antarctica that were taking core samples in -48. How was it that my life in Illinois resonated so closely with those so far south on the lattitude lines? Something wasn't right.

My car doesn't do well in the cold. It's about 11 years old. It's a lovely little Green Jetta. But it's so ornery around this time of year. It takes some time to start, the locks freeze shut... it takes some effort to coerce it into cooperation on days that are cold. It takes some particular coercion on days that are -35. It was the night before that announcement, when the temperatures were rapidly descending, that I had an incident.

A couple nights ago leaving one of my teen's plays my locks froze. I put the key in the door to turn the locks and, though the locks lifted, they didn't unlock. I have learned this also takes some persuasion so I persisted. I prevailed about 10 minutes later.

However, the night of falling temperatures... this was the night. This was the night I tried to unlock my car and there was no hope. This was the night that the cold was a bit too biting. This was the night that it was really late and I was just really tired. All of these factors would've just simply been annoying... had I not actually have been IN MY CAR when this was all happening.

My car was in my driveway. I could see the house. I knew my bed and warmth and a nice cup of tea were just feet from me... and I could not get to them.

My response started as a clipped, "No... this is unacceptable. No... I will have none of this." As it escalated over the next half hour, there were brief moments of colvulsiona and few "ARE YOU FRIKKIN KIDDING ME's!?!?!?!?!". More than a couple,
"JESUS! WHY AREN'T YOU HELPING ME!?!?!?!", and a various assortment of...
"Why am I seriously locked in my car? This is the most retarded thing EVER!!!"
"Jenn... you are actually locked in your car. Your car has chosen this night to eat you. How does this make you feel?"
"You are sitting in your own driveway... held hostage by your car."
"All I want is to be in bed"

This random stream of monologue could've continued for hours had it needed to have. I am an only child - I have often been the only one available to talk with regularly for the past 31 years. I do this.

It was about 1am... "I can't call anyone" I thought as I looked up at my sunroof, wondering if I'd fit.

I tried rolling down the window but realized that even if I did crawl out of it... how do I get the window back up?

I tried, at least, reaching through the window and pulling on the door handle from the outside. Nothing.

I tried all the doors thinking I'll just crawl out... except NONE of them were cooperating. In addition, my seat wouldn't lay back for me to climb over it cause the crank was, yes, frozen.

I tried driving around for a while hoping the door would warm up.

I tried...

Finally! one door became willing; the back passenger. Luckily I suck at putting things back where they belong because my front passenger seat was still fully horizontal due to needing to transport a keyboard for a few weeks two months ago. I crawled and contorted over the items that regularly reside in my vehicle and managed to land with two feet on the ground and standing fully upright as I exited the vehicle.

And just because I knew... just because I wanted the aggrivation... because this was, of course, how it was going to go... I went around to the front and grabbed the handle of the drivers side door... and effortlessly opened it.

2008-01-11T15:31:00.000-06:00

Oh, and since I last wrote in June, I've been introduced to Geocaching. Has anyone done this? I think this is the coolest thing ever and it's a game the WHOLE WORLD is playing. Fantastic.

If you have never done this, you need to check it out.

www.geocaching.com

2008-01-11T15:28:00.000-06:00

K. Not sure how I got it done... but I'm able to post. I have had a nasty relationship with blogger since... well... June I guess. I switched my sign in to a gmail... because they made me (I'm sure gun point was involved... it was traumatic I think) and then when I did... I couldn't access my blog because they treated my new sign in as a new account. BUT THEN!!! I couldn't sign in using my old sign in... which meant I couldn't access my blog...

I don't know if this makes sense, but even as I write this I'm shaking my head in exhaustion because it's been stupid. Stupid. It seems as though this mile is behind me now, however, and I can move on.

Here's to a new dawn.

I have done it...

2007-06-17T18:45:00.000-05:00

I have purchased my ticket...

...to see The Police.

I am a mess.

2007-06-03T00:00:00.000-05:00

Wow... somehow the "really" made a difference. Felt more personal. Like the sign was taking a particular interest in wishing ME a "really good day". I've never seen a sign so emphatically kind before. Thanks, sign. Thanks for that. I will have a really good day - just cause you said so.

2007-05-15T23:48:00.000-05:00

At 1:25am I woke up. I woke up with my house being shook hard, and there was a very loud noise... because three houses down and across the alley a house exploded. Weird.

I thought something had fallen... it was the only frame of reference I might have had. i walked around trying to figure it out, totally baffled. Awake, but confounded. I finally made my way to my back room and saw flames, huge, house-engulfing flames, out the window and down the alley just a few houses. I heard the sirens coming down the street as I was looking for my phone to call 911. A neighbor came and banged on my door wanting to make sure I was up if anything were to happen. The house down the street had totally exploded and was just lost to flames.

I went outside, with the rest of my neighborhood, and sat on a lawn across the street from the house, watching firefighters do their job. A Policeman came over and asked for my info, I spoke with some neighbors as we exchanged stories of the past half hour. He also told me which houses in front of us used to be crack houses. Good. Thanks. One person pointed down the street to an object in the road. It was the front door of the house, still stuck in its frame, that had been blown across the road. We were commenting on how glad we were the wind was blowing all smoke and ashes away from the neighborhood.

About 2:30am, I walked back across the street to home and went back to bed. No one had been hurt. The house was unocupied for quite some time. They suspected it was a gas leak.

I drove by the house today and obviously it's nothing. It was just so surreal to watch a house in my neighborhood go up in flames. I've always thought about what things I would try to take if threatened by a fire. I've made this plan for, like, ever. I never thought of a house just exploding, though.

Moral of this story - check all gas valves. I don't want to hear of anyone's house exploding.

What it came to...

2007-05-13T20:51:00.000-05:00

Oh man. This was sincerely the worst it had ever been... but I can't believe I let it get THIS FAR!!! After I mowed and mowed... and mowed at much the following pace - mow 2 ft, mower stops, unclog mower, mow 2 ft, mower stops, unclog mower, lather, rinse, repeat. Raise wheels, mow 5 feet, hear mower bogging down, pull back, mower regains strength, mow 5 feet, hear mower bogging down, pull back, begin again - I got the lawn completed to a reasonable, neighborly standard... but not completely before I could take this picture... just because, well, who would believe me. Probably most, actually, knowing how good I am at not worrying about it. "Eh, Whatever"

This particular patch was the largest of them all at about 2ft. 2 FT! There was a rabbit's nest in the middle. Squirrels were having trouble clearing the reeds and blades as they frolicked. I enjoyed watching this wildlife display. Made me laugh.

The reality is my lawn mower has been broken. Which is fine if it's winter. It is not winter any longer. A broken mower is no longer fine. I borrowed a friend's. They took it back.

So... the moral of this story... always fix a broken lawnmower because you never know how fast your grass will grow.

Death and...

2007-04-16T14:22:00.000-05:00

I'd rather choose death. But only today... and some of tomorrow... or maybe all of tomorrow... until midnight. After that there are 365 days, more or less, until I'm in this spot again.

I'm sitting here trying to finish my taxes... and by finish... I mean start.

I'm going back and forth between H&R Block and IRS' homepage trying to figure out which one will be a better choice when electronically filing my taxes... because these are the decisions I should be making today.

I've been sitting at Panera since 11am. It's 2:30 almost. I have counted receipts, added contributions, dispersed W-2's, pulled out my home mortgage folder... I have the tools. But I came in looking just as someone would imagine a creative, artsy - non-math, non-linear thinking person should look as they are preparing to embark on their nightmare while still awake. Replete with multiple folders, a ziploc bag of envelopes holding more envelopes with faded and highlighted receipts, a stack of loose printer paper that has everything from iTunes to amazon purchases itemized (which is seriously not a force to be reckoned with), and every tax document I could gather, I sat down at a small-ish table. I know others have spied me from across the room all day thinking, "now, there's a poor soul" Please let me take a moment to tell you it IS all organized... I keep this stuff together. I know exactly where everything is... but it does look to be a mess and it's not clean.

In the past this hasn't been such an issue. I've never liked doing taxes... but I've never been afraid of them. This year I have a bit more complicated situation on my hands. I'm self-employed in addition to being employed by two other employers - in two neighboring states, though. I bought a house. I have to depreciate all my depreciable assets such as piano, computer, and other business related componets. And I have a mess of receipts I've had to translate from German to English while using my currency converter to find out what the Eruo to Dollar ratio is right now.

Now, as you read this I'm sure many of you are thinking, "There are people out there to help individuals like you" - this I realize... however, I believe they will treat me much like my mom when bringing in my stack... late... I imagine a shaking of the head, a few tsk's and a lecture on the importance of being prepared... like I give my students... like I got in High School. I'm avoiding that... by bringing the mess of the American Economy upon myself. It seems like a decent trade off.

Some of the more clever of you are also noting the fact that I've been writing a blog entry about what I should be doing rather than actually doing what I should be doing... again, avoidance.

I'm very self-aware.

2007-04-12T22:57:00.000-05:00

One of the strangest signs I've ever seen. Not because it is weird. It's just... I really don't live in that world... but somebody does. A lot of people do... and this is as common as deer crossing and, well... I just can't relate.

Pumpkins & Cattle

2007-03-27T08:58:00.000-05:00

This is for everyone who has seen the pumpkin. I don't even have to qualify which pumpkin I am refering to... it is simply "the pumpkin"

This past Halloween one of the teens carved a pumpkin that said "Rachael and Jenn" and we put it on our front step. There were A LOT of tea lights in it. This was, as he said, so it would "glow brightly for all to see", or something like that. And there the pumpkin glowed. And then began to rot... and rot... and rot and snow fell on it... and I didn't want to touch it... and was going to wait until it froze to rid myself of it... then students thought it was funny... and began talking to it... and announcing "THE PUMPKIN" every time they got out of the car when they arrived... that I couldn't get rid of it... and it's still there... no longer rotten as much as... petrified. And will be, now, until nature has it's way with it and it becomes ashes to ashes... or something dramatic like that.

It has come in handy actually. Just yesterday I used a couple of its candles to throw at a beligerent squirrel that was digging up the bulbs I had planted the day before.

On another note, but holiday related and a focus on something this same pumpkin-carving teen said this past Christmas that had me laughing. I don't know why I haven't blogged about this yet, though I had promised to a while ago...

Anyway, I had the teens over early in December to help me put up my Christmas garland outside. Earlier in the day I was in my garage and SWORE I heard cows mooing... what? I definately went through the "am-I-crazy" mental check and landed on, "I am really hearing cows". I live right in the middle of a city. Not sky-scraper land, but busy streets, buisnesses, regular city siren noises, etc... and then among the regular din I heard... mooing. It was incredibly surreal. So that night the teens are over and I shh everyone and ask them what they hear... and of course it went silent at that moment. THEN! A loud chorus of cattle mooing rises up out of the cold night air! and everyone screamed... and dropped what they were doing to investigate. Two cars took off while a couple of us stayed behind (way too crowded in those cars) and they came back reporting that there was a cattle auction building down and across the street. A cattle auction.

So later on I'm outside putting more garland up and this pumpkin-carving teens comes outside and yells, "JENN! The Cattle are LOWING!"

2007-03-27T08:38:00.000-05:00

Spring has arrived. It has been in the 70's and 80's for the past few days. Spring rains, thunderstorms, warm breezes you could drink as well as many sunny days. I love Spring. Flowers are starting to come out and I planted some new things on Sunday. Just wonderful.

Last week, last Tuesday, was a gorgeous day. I went to the playground at a nearby park on my lunch. I was finishing a knitting project and an Eastern Indian woman sat down next to me. Nothing unfamiliar. I work with a lot of Eastern Indian families. There is a large population of families from India in the quad cities. This woman did not speak much English at all so we just sat next to each other; she was watching me knit. After a few minutes she reached out her hands to my knitting and I handed it to her. She began finishing what I was working on and she was quick! I held the yarn for her, feeding it when it got too tight. I eventually took out another project and worked on that for a while. So we were two ladies knitting in the park. It was really enjoyable. I'm not uncomfortable with non-verbal communication. Anytime I travel, this is bound to happen - that I run into someone that can't speak English - so I've become acustomed to finding ways to interact with people without necessarily speaking with them. So had this woman. She could probably understand more than she could speak, but her vocabulary was not wide. It was really enjoyable, though. I'm not a "women's place is in the home" type of girl, nor am I a raging feminist, but I do appreciate these sort of things that seem to fall most often into the category of "women's work" and it was really quite nice to be two ladies sitting on a park bench knitting.

It got me way farther with my hat project too.

Music Class

2007-03-09T09:29:00.000-06:00

Every music class from 3 - 6 that I teach does the same routine straight away when they come in the room. It takes up the first 5 minutes of class, more or less. They put their attendance stickers on the name chart, get a pencil, a clipboard (they don't really have desks) and they writing/drawing paper. The paper has half blank space and have lined space. At the top is a place to write composer, title and performer. It's called "Art of Listening" and I do it so that the students will gain exposure to a large volume of music, composers and styles that they would never choose to listen to on their own (yet) nor would know how to find. Most of the students are surprised to find out what music they actually like. Some are favorites - Beethoven's 5th, Beethoven's 9th (Ode to Joy), William Tell Overature, Bach Toccata and Fugue in Dm (the "Halloween Organ Song") - most of the jazz of Ella and Duke are over their heads, but they're getting familiar. We do a brief talk on the composer/performer, style and piece and then we're on to the days work.

They're job is to either write a story or draw a picture that's appropriate to the style of the music (you don't want to hear a lovely pastoral suite with a picture of vampires running around... I have to give this direction or this is what you'd get every time from the 4th and 5th grade boys) Also, they can't cop out and just draw the instrument they're hearing. They need to try to see a story in the mood of the music.

Some students have written some amazing short pieces during this time. Some have drawn some very insightful pictures. Some just draw princesses. The exposure's important.

Yesterday we listened to Chopin's Etude 12, also titled "Revolutionary". A wonderful solo piano piece in a heavy minor with gorgeous cascades of scales rushing up and down through the octave's behind dramatic chord stuctures wide with range and tone. If you know music, it's a relatively familiar work. Very dramatic... Chopin was good at this. An Eturde is simply an exercise, like a skill drill, in some particular area of technique, so when you listen to Chopin's you think "if these were just his 'exercises'... I have played Chopin many times and it is always challenging, but sublime.

Yesterday's song, though, was interesting in what it evoked in the students. Across the board with my 5th graders, probably 90 - 95% of the students wrote or drew a situation where someone was stuck... walking up stairs that never ended, getting swallowed in a whirlpool that never stopped spinning them, falling down an endless hill, running from something without escape. I was fascinated by this. They music really does, because of the endless roll of scales, have a sense of continuum for sure, but I was so impressed that the student's "felt" it... really felt it deeply enough that what they thought to say through their work echoed this perfectly. It was really perceptive and contigous class-wide. And it was something I never heard in the piece and I was wondering what maybe Chopin was trying to say himself. Like I said, the piece was written as an exercise, but he never passed up an opportunity to say something emotionally.

Later on that day I was speaking with another student, Older, about 17, who I had just had do some research on a couple composers earier this week of pieces he's playing. He was surprised by some of the things he discovered and we discussed how every composer, whether writing personally or for a commission, always brings themselve into the piece. Every thing they experience informs their work and they speak to us through their music. It's like reading their autobiography.

What resulted in the class was a wonderful moment where these young people realized that these songs aren't just random pieces of musical history - without point, without connection. But that they speak to us and create moods and worlds. That these composers are still reaching through time to tell us stories from their present and their past and even what they saw in the future; that it's a conversation with voices that still speak with us today. In fact that they aren't voices of ghosts but those still living among us, relating to us, pulling us and pushing us, sharing space with us... daring us to tell stories of our own.

and in today's weather news

2007-02-24T16:43:00.000-06:00

2007-02-18T20:54:00.000-06:00

Pulled my car into my driveway this evening and saw this. I guess the water dripped and froze off the front of my car, but never broke when I pulled away earlier in the day.

...has become fact

2007-02-12T23:19:00.000-06:00

Today, officially, The Police (it's a band if you're that young) will be going on tour this summer... and I am willing to go to any lengths to see this show... perhaps multiple times. I might lost any stable savings I have and I am entirely ok with this.

I love this band... and by "love" I mean, they have provided the most soundtrack music for my life than any other source... I have read books and dictionary's just to find out the inspiration and meanings of allusions and words used in their songs... I have rewound (because I owned the tapes first) "King of Pain" countless times just to hear the descending line of notes that follow "it's the same old thing as yesterday" that echo's the "It's my soul up there" melody... when I was 8 and taped it off the radio... seriously... I watched their videos on MTV after Synchronicity came out with wide eyes because they were the coolest thing on the planet. I LOVE this band... and they broke up before I was old enough to see them live.

But today I woke up in a new world. A world where a band called "The Police" exist... today... not in the past... and I just don't know what to do with myself. I, honestly (this is all so dramatic) feel like I'm living in a hazy dream.

It is such a good day.

Rumor...

2007-02-08T09:48:00.000-06:00

Well anyone that knows me know that this rumor might have resulted in one of the greatest days of my life... I'm leaving the door open for other candidates but, who are we kidding, it's probably not likely.

I heard this and spent a rather embarassing moment lying on the floor. I had to move to the lowest point in the room I was so overwhelmed.

Sunday's gonna be a great day. Don't miss the opening act.

Reprieve

2007-01-08T18:34:00.000-06:00

I was 14 when I was introduced to Ani DiFranco. I was a Freshman. She was a young, 19 year old independant artist from one city over to the West trying to make it. She was head-shaved like Sinead O'Connor in those days (1990). She was playing at Milestones, a jazz club downtown. And since we were all young aspiring artists at School of the Arts, making really randomly assorted mix tapes of XTC, and early REM, B52's and Indigo Girls (before people knew them) we were happy to support non mainstream musicians as often as we could. So Maika and I went. We paid $5 for the cover charge on a Wednesday evening and went in and found ourselves, 7 - 10 other people and Ani on a 6" raised platform stage backdropped by a brick wall with her guitar. She sung "Both Hands Now" and a few others from her first tape and recited some poetry and she was done about an hour and a half later. I was moved and loved her and didn't stop listening to that low-budget tape with her and her shaved-headed self on the front for all of High School.

I just got "Reprieve" and can't stop listening to it... again. I remember a lot of the music that I used to listen to in the dark with incense burning and 20 pages of journaling conquered in the early 90's had a lot of heavy, melodic bass line to it (Sting's early solo work and Michael Hedges particularly) and just so chill. I think that's why I'm connecting with this (now) CD (no more "tape") so much. It brings me back to a time I've been missing desperately in my life lately; a very creative time in school with freaks of creative people. People that were walking down the hall in costumes they were trying out for their student directed play, or tapping their way to the drinking fountain from dance class; with people that are now in movies and on broadway, and making incredible works of art... still... because they were, too, back then when we were in printmaking and photography. I really miss High School. I miss the life of creativity I lived in for 6 years (Middle School too).

Ani's got me thinking about it again. She's bringing me home to Western New York. It's almost more that I can handle sometimes. The midwest is difficult on days like this. Unfortunately, if I continue listening to Ani I can expect many more days like this.

2006-12-25T16:33:00.000-06:00

I just made it through airport security and am sitting in my terminal for a slightly delayed flight to LA via Atlanta. Slightly delayed is fantastic considering it's Christmas day. (Happy Christmas to you all btw) I'm in Moline which is fantastic to travel through. Esp on international flights because you can arrive and hour before your flight departs and you're good. I checked my one bag. (I feel I'm somewhat of a pro when it comes to packing now) and walked the hall to security checkpoint 1 and only 1 here. They did the routine check with your shoes off and my belt off and my jacket off and my scarf off and my pockets emptied and my 3.4 oz liquids claimed and made it through... with knitting needles.

I took up knitting during my time home for Thanksgiving and have enjoyed a new skill in my life. It might age me 50 years right off the bat but whatever. My aluminum, sharp, pointed knitting needles are permitted on an aircraft... and somehow, though I will enjoy my new hobby while I travel, I don't know that it makes me feel entirely safe in the friendly skies. I won't go into the list of things I've considered as possible harmful tactics using knitting needles because homeland security might censor my blog. It may just be that they assume all knitting-needle-toting travelers might be in their 80's and the air marshal could take them quite easily. Just perhaps.

We'll see what happen when Granny from Florida takes down an airline becausse she's threatened someone's Corotoid with a #9 gaged pink aluminun knitting needle.

My House's Antithesis

2006-12-18T17:07:00.000-06:00

These are pictures that were previously posted as the "Halloween House" pictures. As promised, I have pictures of their Christmas fiasco. Some people who were a part of my tastful and pleasant decorating endeavor went to see this house afterwards with me - Andrew and Staci, pictures coming and... and the cows story - we just stood in awe. We just don't understand. And the woman decorating was NOT in the Christmas Spirit. In fact, she seemed rather put out that we were speaking to her. She was busy festooning, however, and perhaps was just irked that we were distracting her from her inspired efforts.

Sadly you are unable to see it, but there is a Christmas tree nearly hidden by the telephone pole. Scooby-Doo is dressed in a santa hat riding a train around that tree.

A barrage of holiday inflatables adorns the top of the garage's roof.

The other houses on the street can only be jealous. What else can they do but wallow in their mild aura and mediocre electric bill.

The prettiest little house in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD!!!

2006-12-07T23:17:00.000-06:00

...this is what I dreamed of doing last Christmas... right up until I didn't have a house for Christmas. This year decorating was really great because of it. It was one surprise after another... "I have THIS?!" - "I forgot about that one!" My house is a dream! And every time I pull into my driveway I just sigh deeply and declare, "I have the prettiest house in all the world!"

2006-11-28T22:12:00.000-06:00

I was talking to someone tonight as I pulled into my driveway. I pulled into the spot my roommate usually parks in and she was in my spot (though this has never been contracted... it's just understood) And somehow we got thinking of territorial spaces in driveways and that maybe, perhaps, I should put up signs on metal posts that clarified the muddy areas of parking etiquette... it kind of went down a bunny trail after that and by the end of the conversation we had discussed some of the few parking signs available... "this spot reserved for employee of the month" - I decided I need to find one of those because I really ought to attach it to my garage... then everytime I come home... I am the employee of the month...

Incidentally, I am self-employed... so really... what is this saying? Do I really need this kind of validation?

2006-11-22T16:42:00.000-06:00

I guess I didn't realize there was such a specialized niche.

Substitue Chronicles #0932

2006-11-13T08:04:00.000-06:00

"And what is your name?" I asked the Kindergartner.

"My name used to be Samuel D. Adams... but I'm Superman."

And my question as I turned away was, "should I be more focused on the fact that he is named after a superhere... or a beer?"

Why I blog

2006-11-06T09:01:00.000-06:00

My whole reason for blogging started with the pictures below. A year ago this was going to be my very first post but I had to pack and move instead... that's for another post.

There are two houses on the same street in Moline, Illinois that are beyond anything I've ever seen. It begins around the beginning of October and doesn't stop until New Year's: Holiday Lawn Decor. The pictures are poor and you can't get the full effect, but it was worth posting what I do have, regardless. I hope it can give you an idea...

In my friend Dan's words, "they are trying to contact aliens!"

This house is the lesser of the two.

But this... this is the tour de force...

These pictures take you on a virtual tour from the front to the back. Unfortunatly no digital image can give the the full impact of viewing these wonders in person. But please, please try.

It begins in the front with the hedgerow of orange lights, smoke and electronic skeleton butler greeting you streetside. The yard is replete with cobwebs, various styrofoam grave stones, your choice of the typical ghoul and goblin and then various other creepy accoutrement.

Here we are rounding the corner to the side display.

From the side, the fiasco continues with the smoke and lights. My favorite item among this all is the 2-D Americana styled Uncle Sam cut-out. It is posted by the trellis... Apparently their July 4th decor hasn't really found its niche.

We've now made our way to the back of the property and the the roof decoration where, every year, a new inflatable finds it's way to the reaching heavenly realms of this hades. Here we have the surprised pumpkin and the every playful toppling pumpkin inflatables. Sadly you cannot see the veteren purple sprawling spider or the witches brewing in the cauldron. (too dark for the shot). You might also note the trio of emerging casper-like ghosts in the left background of one of the shots.

Yes, what good holiday fun.

Keep an eye open for the updated late-December edition of this neighborhood's holiday hijinx. Their displays of everything Hanukhak, Kwanza, and pagan and religious understandings of Christmas are something to behold and really get you into the air-filled spirit of fun.

'til then...

Deja Vous Part Deux

2006-10-29T17:11:00.000-06:00

So a bit of the difficulty of this teaching scenario is that there are a handful of elementary students that know me as Jenn… like my friends Darci and Paul’s son, Max, who is 5 and won’t do anything unless you give him good reason to believe this it really is the best idea ever. And there kind of has to be a little something in it for him too… like, perhaps, being in on a secret that NO ONE else has the privilege of knowing… which is the route I took when prepping him for his music class experience the next day… the one I would be subbing. I said, “Max, tomorrow I will be in your music class, but no one knows my name is Jenn, so my name tomorrow has to be ‘Miss Swift’ “ Because Max would be the kid that, because he knows my name is Jenn, would call me Jenn and not call me Miss Swift like the other kids should just because… and we'd have to have a discussion about it. So it was best to do the prep work necessary. Max also speaks “adult” very well and feels it is important to be on par with you, because, well, truth be told, kids his age are really beneath him. So Max played along the next day. He did very well, although every time he called me “Miss Swift” it was like an inside joke to him… Except, that’s all out the window this week because he got home from last Tuesday’s class and this was the conversation he had with his mom…

“Here’s the thing…” Max says. “I asked everyone and they all know her name is Jenn. They all knopw. We don’t have to keep it a secret!”

So, we’ll see how Kindergarten goes this week.

Deja Vous

2006-10-24T07:04:00.000-05:00

I don’t know how I ever thought I would escape this. I don’t know how I had the audacity to believe it wouldn’t be me… or perhaps I was just oblivious. I shouldn’t have been, though. My mom was a teacher. 2 Aunts were teachers. My uncle worked in education administration. My cousin went on to be a teacher. My other cousin is doing Master’s work in education. That cousin’s brother just married a teacher. Another Aunt now works post-retirement in a school as a resource aid. Her husband, my uncle, does admin work at a college… And I thought I’d do something different? When I moved to Rock Island I needed a job to support ministry… I became a Kindergarten teacher… apparently you don’t need training to do this. And somehow it all just fell into place. I was a teacher. After 2 years of that I decided I would step out of school setting full time. However, a music teacher job found me.

I made NO effort to pursue the position. Heard about it from 3 random people, the last was someone who actually took the job and then quit it and thought I should take it. Somehow it ended up finding me… and I taught it for three years. I quit that position in ’05 and went on to teach private lessons full time. And here I am at the door of a school again... that same school… same job.

I have an excellent relationship with the school. LOVE the students. LOVE the teachers. Outstanding atmosphere. I just didn’t know if I’d be in the area long and wanted to be fair to them, so I resigned my position a school year ago.

A week ago the current music teacher quit. So I told the principle I’d be happy to fill the position until someone was found. However, knowing that the Christmas program (oh yes, the Christmas program) was upon us, no one would walk into a job in the middle of that. I knew I would be helping indefinitely and have the ability to do so. However, the principle called this morning and said, “I’d like to talk to you about possibly taking the job.” And I’m back in school again.

I haven’t said yes. I will ask for a few weeks. I don’t love elementary. However, I have always loved the idea of having current experience with a wide range of ages. And what it comes down to is education in the arts and that is what I’m completely sold on.

I’m just surprised to find myself here… again… for a job I’ve tried not to have… twice.

My love/hate week with NPR

2006-10-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

If you love NPR, which... I have a small group of friends that really, truly love NPR (you liberals!) you hate this week and one just like it about 6 months from now. We are in the fall fund drive. EVERY YEAR it sneaks up on me! I feel so unprepared when I go to turn on Car Talk at 9am on the Saturday of the wretched week and hear the talking, the pleading, of Renee Montagne reminding me of their need this year. I am totally an NPR junkie. I am a listener no matter what. But I totally hate this week.

I was talking to a friend a few years ago during this time of year and we had the conversation... the one that discovered we were both die hard NPR-ers, but confessed that neither had ever pledged. (we sound like we're Greek's or something - Nu Pi Rho) We said so somewhat sheepishly because we both felt the guilt.

And that's the thing about NPR... I confess my undying adoration... but I hate right now... because I am so guilt ridden... Because Ira Glass... a voice I love, one I've welcomed into my home regularly, one that tells me great stories... and then during the fund drives turns on me. It's so manipulative... because he says, "If you've been enjoying the stories NPR has brought you but you don't contribute..." and they liken it to stealing. And then I have an inward battle with myself... "They have CHOSEN to publish themselves... It is my RIGHT to take and NOT give back! THIS is the system. THIS IS UNDERSTOOD!!! You should NOT be guilting me to support a service you have CHOSEN to provide out of good will!!!"

But Ira can't hear me and neither can Sylvia Pagioli or Veer Sing (I love him, he reports from New Delhi and has a wonderful accent). And that's the wonder of it all... they are so unaffected, but I am guilty. Hateful ones that I love. They even get David Sedaris involved... and that's just low. He was born with Greek guilt and could care less who it spills all over.

It's Tuesday... they will go until next Sunday and life will be back to normal programming... guilt free programming... for another 6 months... and then it will happen all over again, this abusive cycle. I'll apologize, tell them it was my fault. I've been listening for too long not to be a pledger and then I'll try to offer some sort of bargain of "maybe if I just convert more NPR listeners they won't make me feel so guilty..." but then it all start again. Who new NPR could be so unhealthy.

Holly, are you with me on this?

Irony

2006-10-16T01:00:00.000-05:00

At stores I find signs that say "simplicity" ironic when nestled in among various fauna and flora, signs and containers, vases and candles and other sundry home decor items.

I walked by the sign and had to turn back around and stare at it a second thinking, "now... that's certainly missing the point a bit, isn't it?"

Brilliant moment 2,405

2006-10-07T12:22:00.000-05:00

While locking a door don't try to flip your hair out of your eyes while holding a cup of water between your teeth.

I need to go dry off.

Hmmm... let's see what they're up to...

2006-09-30T08:21:00.000-05:00

I'm reading my friend's blogs right now. I'm doing this because I have other things to do. Of course I'm reading blogs. I do this rarely enough, like read blogs in one fell swoop, so I don't feel bad about making the rounds... however, of course I chose to do so when I've got other things to get done. Between 9am and 1:30pm all my students will be coming to my house to gleen from the awesome experiences of their most awesome music-and-cultural-brainwasher teacher... I admit it. I am totally an arts snob and I think people who aren't are stupid. They annoy me a bit. There, I said it. I'll still be your friend, but now you know the truth behind my relationship with you. It will always linger in the background. The thing is I just don't ever want any of the young people I come in contact with the EVER have the option of saying, "I don't like it because I don't understand it." Unacceptable.

Anyway, I have work to get done for them... and I'm reading blogs. And now I'M blogging. In true fashion of the ridiculous creative lives of people I know and love... we procrastinate something fierce (and of course it's fierce because we're creative and it must be dramatic - did I spell fierce wrong? I have never fully taken hold of the "i before e" thing)

It will be a good day because I have a lot in my head and great stories to tell and I think I do that ok. But preparation... mm... this is why I won't ever function in a classroom (and why it was hard... and why I won't go back... at least today) preparation... yeah, it's good to have your own studio.

Ok... I've got 40 min before the little people arrive.

Everywhere and In Between

2006-09-25T15:51:00.000-05:00

was where I felt like I was today. So I made a project for my piano and voice students to work on while I'm gone. They were given packets with stuff in them re: Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. Though three separate generations of composers, their lives overlapped quite a bit, specifically in Vienna. So the packets contained information on the three, a CD of key songs that my students are playing in level appropriate forms and sheet music to study. They were, then, supposed to go through the packets and e-mail me questions and assignments to find things based on their research. They've come up with great questions for me scavenge out of the city... but what a day.

It began with a visit to the Haus de Musik which is simply that - a building dedicated to sound and how sound works and it's connection with music. A complete interactive exhibit. Next, a bolt out to Zentralfriedhof (the cemetary where Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms are buried alongside a monument for Mozart), made it back into the city for a walking tour of Mozarts life in Vienna, a trip through Mozarts last remaining house in Vienna where he wrote Figaro and the Requiem and then to see a String quarted perform the Requiem in a lovely old church. Whew... made everything right on time with none to spare. I felt like superwoman.

Tomorrow, visiting Beethoven's homes (not all of them because in 30 years, or something like that, he lived in more places that one can count...) but I'll see some key places where he composed some very large works.

On another note I ended up drinking bitter lemon at the end of my day which I'm crazy about. Managed to walk a whole 12 hour day without losing my pullover that was flung over my bag... to some a minor issue... but I drop everything I touch. Oh, and had a coffee at Starbucks because it's really the only place to get a coffee to go... yeah, and oh-so-Austrian... whatever. I just about hated that I was there.

Pictures are in this order:
Beethoven's Grave
Mozart Memorial
Map of Zentralfriedhof
Mozart's last home in Vienna

A Paddleboat

2006-09-23T10:29:00.000-05:00

...is what myself and the teens rented this afternoon. I don't know that I explained what I've been doing while here this week, but I'm leading worship for a conference and then also hanging out with the teens for the week. Afternoons are free time. Today we went for a paddleboat ride. We probably paddled 3-4 Kilometers... In the middle of the ride a water skier came along and slammed water on us. It would've bothered me had it not have been done just so well. So I applauded instead. But we were very wet and still had quite a ways to go back to shore. When we DID get there, Eva and Josh grabbed the dock and pulled us in. However, Eva pulled one way from the back and the front of the boat went another. Josh, who was standing on the front of the boat and holding on to the dock started stretching out more and more until all of a sudden the things holding him up were too far spread apart and in the water he went. The picture you see is after this adventure, sans Eva - she was taking the picture. The others are just views from the lake.

2006-09-23T06:49:00.000-05:00

Slovenia

2006-09-22T17:40:00.000-05:00

Today I drove down to Slovenia. A friend and I borrowed a car and drove down for the afternoon to Bled (said "Blade") and just tripped around 'til about 10pm tonight. It took about 45 min to get there which just seems nuts. But it's true. I was a little disappointed at the border, though, when I handed the guy our passports and they just passed us on. I didn't get a stamp. It's EU's fault. Open borders.

It's a bit of a fairy-tale-esque sort of place with an island in the middle of a glacial lake in the middle of the Julian Alps with a grand castle way up high on a craggy cliff... just too much to handle. I'll post a web picture with an aerial view 'cause you'll get a better idea of it (the best one I could find has someone else's watermark on it).

There's a ton of history to this area as it the center of four main geological land formations. The castle in this town is also the oldest one in Slovenia.
View from the castle of the surrounding scenery.

View from the island looking towards the castle and St. Martens church.

2006-09-21T17:00:00.000-05:00

The inside of St. Stephen's at night. Vienna, Austria.

Flight Wonderings

2006-09-19T10:26:00.000-05:00

September 15 - flying from Vienna to Krakow. Flight time: 1hr.

"Last leg of our trip. Now in Vienna heading to Krakow. Moline - Chicago - Dullas - Vienna - Krakow... Not bad. All quick transfers. My body is in a tired place, though, where I'm hot, my breathing is tight and my mouth is dry.

I'm looking out the window at the surrounding Austrian Villages wondering if one of them is Rohrau. Little hamlets along the Danube. Each with their village church and tower that probably looked out for the Turk's at one point.

I'm right next to the prop of this plane and my butt is buzzing. I'm probably 5 feet from it... If it came off I'd be the first one dead. I wouldn't even make it to the crash.

So far this travel's been outstanding. Really not more than an ounce here or there of turbulence. Was so great.

I stole a blanket today from Austrian Airlines. it's a great green with red trim. Quite striking and fun. Does this make me a bad person?

Flying over England at early morning today was beautiful. I noticed in the darkness warm orange glows of light. Rarely have I had a chance to SEE England every time I fly over it.

It's been so interesting to look below me at the land thinking "this is Europe" - like, countless armies have marched these lands... The Moors, the Mongols, the Ottomans, the Hungarians, Alexander the Great... the Romans. How deep do footprints go in this soil. Plots of land that have remnants of life before lying ferral that perhaps were once Roman camps, battlefields, temporal town. It fascinates me endlessly.

All this below me was once the Eatern block, ruled by Communism... the U.S.S.R. I imagine we're over the Czech Republic right now.

Land formations also blow my mind... the general geology of places that you see from a plane. Rivers that used to flow here now flow there, but left a trace with a dry bed. Mounds in the ground. The natural shape of uncut forests. Even some of the man-made things like roads that followed the natural walking route of past people groups, in and out of hills, towns, forests... and the roads that took their place... before blasting away the earth was possible. The towns that developed around natural resources. Towns that never grew into each other so they really used to be able to say, "the woodsmythe three towns down the river..."

Pictures of Krakow and Vienna

2006-09-18T05:00:00.000-05:00

Church of the 12 Apostles in Krakow, Poland

Cafe light in Krakow's Market Square

Vienna: St. Stephens Cathedral at night

Charlie & Lola

2006-09-12T21:53:00.000-05:00

I am absolutely crazy about this show. I have been watching kids for a particular family a few days this week and they have two DVDs, 6 episodes each. I'm in. I love it.

It was introduced to me a bit ago and for some reason I never really got it. Shameful really. I should've. I should've really understood. I did not. Now I do.

Lola is small and very funny... and she loves pink milk. Charlie is the reasonable and ever caring, sometimes frustrated, older brother. Lotta is Lola's best friend. Marve is Charlie's (which, everytime they say it I think they're saying Mauve). Marv has a dachsund named Sizzles that Lotta and Lola love. Lola has an imaginary friend named Soren Lorenson. And they all have these lovely Brittish accents.

Aesthetically, the illustrating and writing is incredibly clever and witty and just so fabulous. And any show that could carry Badly Drawn Boy type music has got to be wonderful.

Clearly, I am enamored and I am ok with this. I may actually go rent the DVD's myself. "Do your kids enjoy this show ma'am?" they will ask me at the counter. I may lie or I may tell the truth... or I may just borrow the five kids I've been watching and take care of that completely; allay any question.

You may one day hear me speaking like a four year old Brittish child. At which point you may intervene. However, until then, I will be attempting to see as much of this show as possible. Carry on.

Odds'n'Ends... but mostly odds.

2006-09-05T23:55:00.000-05:00

I'm glad that last post's behind me. Staci... thanks for taking the "no one noticed" route for me. You're a good woman.

Steve Erwin died... yesterday? How 'bout it. Thanks NPR for bringing the sad news... however, TODAY they followed it up with this guy, John Hodgeman. He's the guy from the outstanding Mac commercials. Apparently he's written a book and he is funny regularly... and he has a blog... "Areas of my Expertise". He used to be a part of "This American Life" which is really about my favorite of my many NPR shows.

Please listen to the interview... not because I sound pathetic asking you to, but because you believe me when I tell you it's funny... and the radio host can't contain his laughter. That's enjoyable.

Click on THIS and
from here go "listen"... and then do so.

Two sets of super good friends moved town last week. Packed one friend up Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for her to leave and then packed another Thursday and Friday. Wow. Hate that. I spent a fair amount of time actually mourning those losses. Very good people. When good people leave it makes you wonder what you're still doing around. I know what I'm still doing around... but you still have to entertain the thought if just for a few days. It's healthy.

In other news I leave for Autria and Poland in... 8 days? Something like that. Next Thursday. I'll be better at posting next week.

Play it again... Jenn

2006-08-23T22:43:00.000-05:00

I have a regular gig of leading worship for the fine young people at our church every week. I love what I do. I love these teens. I love the band. It's an honor to do what I do. I mean it. However, I might be kicked out tonight.

It was a busy and somewhat rough night before our services began (plural because Middle School is first, High School is second so we play twice in a row) I had a run in with someone that left me unsettled, a few things weren't normal... it was just an odd night. So Middle School went well. No complaints. Was really proud of two newer students band peeps that were great on the fly. Good. Senior High moves right in immediately following. We open with the first song that one of my Jr. Highers lead - her first time. We play two more songs... and I flake. I tell our drummer to start song X... again... it was the song we began the night with... but in my head I had placed that first time in Jr. High's service... in my head we hadn't done it for Sr. High yet... except that we just had 10 minutes before.

My poor band of new people, so confused, not sure... looking at me like "are you sure" - so that made it more awkward... Everyone knew it. Everyone. The band. The teens. It was one of those moments and you just keep going because, well, because... But I just felt dumb. Not dumb like "I don't want to see anyone ever again. I quit!" but like... "Oh my gosh, I really just did that... that's funny.... and... dumb"

One of the band kids caught me afterwards and started opening his mouth with a question on his face and I just said, "I know... and no, it wasn't intentional" and we laughed and I said "It was just dumb"

I can't wait to go to bed.

ATM Madness - part II

2006-08-23T22:33:00.000-05:00

I went to the ATM the other day... again, since I had done such a fine job of sidling up to the machine so as not to be the person that has to open the car door, unbuckle their seat belt and play a modified game of twister to gain access to the machine,I - when I dropped my credit card onto the pavement beneath the car - I couldn't properly open the door to retreive it... So while I'm reliving my experience with the money tube and vaccum at the drive through a few months ago (see post from May 1st) I'm looking for whatever I can to reach for the card through a sliver of open door, appearing to be playing a modified game of twister. I find a mechanical pencil with the eraser NOT rubbed down to be flush with the writing instrument and try to move the card with that. It worked. I got the card. At this point, knowing my reocurring issues with banking facilities, I may opt for the first scenario instead of shimmying right up to the venue. However, I won't know until my next visit if my lesson's been learned.

In A Pink Room

2006-08-07T13:40:00.000-05:00

So from time to time I will paint murals or rooms for little kids. I'm working on one right now with sweet little whispy grasses and fun animals will make their addition soon.

I did a room about a year an a half ago and the request from the three year old was that the room be pink. I really liked how the room ended up and we were glad it would be one she'd stick with into her elementary years. Sadly the family just moved, though, and wanting the room to be preserved for posterity the following is a visual elegy for the pink room...

Just to explain... I used a gloss pink over the Satin pink walls which makes the swirls on the wall pop out if hit by the light just right. Head on, though, you can't tell they're there. There's a box window seat as well that I painted into a tree swing that hangs from a large branch painted on the wall under the tree canopy. Also, I love chalkboard paint... so the closet doors have a lemonade stands and an a-frame sign that the little girl could draw on. Every child will eventually draw on their walls... I just gave her a place to do so.

2006-08-07T13:38:00.000-05:00

2006-07-18T11:57:00.000-05:00

I cannot stop listening to this CD.

My first exposure to Imogen was in the group Frou Frou a couple years ago. Then I heard her song "Hide and Seek" and was sold. I can't pick up enough of her stuff. But this CD in particular is amazing. It's the kind of music you listen to that has you finding new things everytime you do. There are so many layers to her music. And it has a kind of magical charm to it... it glows. That's the best I can come up with. Somewhat cheesy, but there really is this sort of effervescent quality to it.

A guy at West Music (same home sort of feel as Dick Blick... if these guys go under, I'm through with it all) and I now speak of her everytime I go it. One day he said "You've got to have more of her stuff" so he gave me Frou Frou's "Details" CD. (Just like when Dick Blick offered me coffee). And now it's a cornucopia of Imogen.

I guess her shows are amazing. She reproduces all of herself solo. Amazing. So if you hear she's anywhere near you, let me know... I'll be taking a road trip.

Have you ever...

2006-07-02T13:03:00.000-05:00

...seen someone somewhere, and they go to give you a hug and as you are hugging you realize... and you know they must too, "we've never hugged each other before" and then it's kind of awkward. Someone just gave me an awkward hug.

Where am I gonna get paint now?

2006-06-25T08:51:00.000-05:00

This is a story about the first time I walked out of a store and cried... I was fairly emotional for a while. Dick Blick art store closed at 5:00 last Saturday for good. The thing about Blick was that I loved going in there because it ignited a certain response from me; a sense of familiarity from mixed smells of paper, brushes, paint, canvas, pastels. I also knew the staff there pretty well. Yesterday I turned a corner and Bruce, the store owner, turned from the opposite direction and all I could say was, "Bruce! I'm speechless". He's a very dry and thoughtful man with wonderfully crazy hair and he responded in his sort of whispery voice, "You need a hug" - seriously, he did.

The day things went poorly with my house around Christmastime, I went there because I needed to be around something that made me feel at home. Bruce offered me a cup of coffee... in a retail store... I was offered a cup of coffee.

They were so good at what they did and I always found what I needed. I got advice on pieces I was working on, good thoughts as they related to arts and life and always a very hearty welcome when walking through the door. It really was an extension of home for me. It is no longer there.

I know this all sounds just ridiculous, but I'm quite broken up about it. Someone saw me after my hour and a half final roam of the store and stock-up of 50% off meterials and asked how my day was. I said, "It sucked and I'm a little sad." And then I started tearing up, and then laughing because it was a ridiculous story to tell. And yet, quite a few who know me, who knew the store was to be no more, have seriously come up to me and with every depth of sincerity have said, "I'm sorry for your loss." - I know it's not a person, but it was a personal entitiy that really brought something specific to our community. *sigh*

Thanks for letting me get that out.

Great followed by great.

2006-06-24T01:12:00.000-05:00

What a good day. Gave a really good art lesson today… not as much as my teaching was out of this world, but rather a good lesson, good learner, good synthesis. Just good. Followed by a great night out. Got to extend my birthday out a month and had the pleasure of eating dinner with “homefolk” (a term penned by Sadie and Bessie – You must read “Having Our Say” by these two centarian sisters) and seeing “Cars” - what a surprise, loved it - lumbered over to Borders following the movie… was gifted the book I made mention of a few posts back – In the Belly of the Green Bird. Great. Just super enjoyable.

Got a call later this afternoon from a friend saying “Michael Buble’s band will be just gigging down at Hunter’s tonight. Matt (said friend’s husband, our media director and about the best gig/session pianists I’ve ever heard) will be sitting in with them.” So, went down around 11… what a great night. Michael Buble is in town tomorrow night and his musicians got here today, looked around for some places to jam I guess, Matt was called and then the angels sang because it was some of the best live music I’ve heard.

The Quad cities has a really good open-mic/live music thing going for it. I will frequent some places that I know have some good stuff from time to time, but tonight was just really good professional musicians doing their thing and just jamming everything from funk to fusion. I love watching music happen and take place and be given the space to be made in front of you. To watch the give and take, especially in jazz, where people get their moment to create music with these other people that are going to same direction, but have no idea, along with you, what will sound next. This is such an interesting thing to observe and be a witness to… this genuine moment where humanity says to each other “I don’t need to be in control right now because this is your moment and I want you to have it” – funny how music can help create a safe space to be vulnerable. It’s interesting to me.

Anyway, great followed by great. What a good night. I will be tapping my toes in my dreams.

One River Mississippi - weaving together art, ecology and community

2006-06-20T09:34:00.000-05:00

"To put your hands in a river is to feel the chords that bind the earth together." - B. Lopez, author

The "One Mississippi River" event will take place this Saturday, June 24 @ 7pm.

If you are in or live near any of the following 7 locations, try to make it to this event.

Itasca
Minneapolis / St. Paul
Quad Cities
St. Louis / E. St. Louis
Memphis
New Orleans
Plaquemines Parish

The event will unify cities from the mouth of the Mississippi all the way down to its Delta with participating communities. It is an event that will incorporate the arts community of each location with a sense of greater awareness for ecology. The arts culture of just about any community is almost always exclusively the community that walks hand in hand with issues of social and global concern.

The Mississippi has quite an amazing role in the history of America economically, politically, socially. I've only lived on it for about 5 years and have been amazed even at it's meteorological significance as well. It's amazing to watch storms come through this area and, on the new, see a large storm cell divide and roll around the Mississippi and the Quad Cities, only to reconvene on the Eastern side of the area.

I think this event will be cool and I'd love to have any of you who can attend try to and share your thoughts here afterwards.

Mississippi River Meander Belt

Follow-up

2006-06-20T09:33:00.000-05:00

Friends came by and confiscated my book.

A Cry For Help

2006-06-18T22:40:00.000-05:00

I can't stop playing this game. Someone needs to take my book away. I need an intervention.

New Music

2006-05-30T13:35:00.000-05:00

I've been ruminating the acquisition of two new CD's. Have heard great reviews. Have heard good live performances. The final say was when I walked into Borders last night and the wanted-CD-#1 was playing. Got to listen to a large portion of the songs on said CD. The joy settled, however, when the wanted-CD-#2 followed it. Both CD's have been downloaded and now I'm recommending.

Bruce Springsteen - We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions

EmmyLou Harris & Mark Knopfler - All The Roadrunning

Both are outstanding projects by such seasoned musicians. Both fall into the folk/country category. But if you enjoy good American roots music, both CD's will deliver.

In The Belly Of The Green Bird

2006-05-22T14:42:00.000-05:00

Heard a good interview today on "Here and Now" (I'm an NPR junkie, remember) with a young journalist, Nir Rosen, in reference to the current racial and political occurrences in Iraq. American born, but of middle eastern descent, this man has some current knowledge and insight we are unable to gain not living in Iraq. The interview's not long, so please take a few minutes to listen to it today. The interview with the journalist is at the front end of the program and only about 15 min.

Below is just the blurb NPR has on their site re: the journalist's book, "In the Belly of the Green Bird: The Triumph of the Martyrs in Iraq"

"President Bush says the United States has entered a new chapter in its relationship with Iraq. Speaking today in Chicago, the president said Saturday's inauguration of Iraq's new unity government is a victory for the cause of freedom in the Middle East.

Nonetheless, renewed violence in Iraq claimed seventeen lives today. Yet, President Bush and administration officials have expressed confidence in the past that a new government would help stop the growing number of killings and kidnappings in Iraq.

But, journalist Nir Rosen is not so optimistic after spending months gaining access to Sunni and Shi'a militia members, an experience which he describes in his new book, "In the Belly of the Green Bird, the Triumph of Martyrs in Iraq." Nir believes that Iraq is already in the middle of civil war."

I think when it comes to being more aware of what is happening in our world, event by event, the news media is helpful on a minor scale. People's first hand stories, those from a broad experience base, are one of, if not the, best source of information.

Would also love to hear your thoughts.

Habitat Restore

2006-05-19T21:35:00.000-05:00

I just made my umpteenth visit to our local Habitat for Humanity's Restore. We are friends. I make nearly weekly visits as a recent addition to the homeowner's club. I can find tons of things there as it relates to renovation, fixing, improvements, etc., while I'm helping local business, supporting Habitat for Humanity and keeping tons of junk out of landfills. These are all very good things. In addition, you can find some really beautiful pieces from old houses: doors, railings, windows. Tons of tile usually. Always paint for super cheap. Countertops. It's amazing.

I totally sound like an add. This bit will top it off... "to find a Habitat Restore Store near you, click here".

Hey Bethany, they even have them in Ottawa!
Juli, you guys have two!

This is why...

2006-05-16T23:01:00.000-05:00

...I like this season's finalists of American Idol... because this years peeps are not pop singers. They've got style. They're not generic. They're not boring. I would actually purchase their CD. They are not pop singers and I am thrilled about that. They've got real talent. It makes me wonder what they're going to do about the last song that the winner sings because it is not the genre that any of them do well. They're beyond that. I'm so glad to see this at the end of this competition. This is what has actually made me watch it this year... these three finalists have had my attention. Unfortunately Elliot's going to go home. But I will buy his CD, and Taylor's and Katharines... if they get companies that don't try to make them pop singers. That would suck. They're better than that.

Birthday's this week in my world.

2006-05-10T10:50:00.000-05:00

May 8 - Brennan Brave Hampton - my dearest friend Cyndi's boy. He is now 1 year old.
May 9 - Jessica Lee Bowman - my dearest friend from Rochester, she is 27.
May 10 - Brennan's mom, my dearest friend Cynthia Lisabeth Hampton, she is 24.
May 11 - Maxwell Anderson - my dearest friend Darci's little boy. He will be five and he would like a hat that has tubes for which to drink your drink from and a place to put your chocolate milk attached to the sides.
May 11 - Jennifer Lane Swift's birthday. I will be 30 y'all!

I have a lot of dearest friends and man, what a busy week.

Things said

2006-05-07T04:35:00.000-05:00

I was hanging out with a group of peeps tonight and got talking about "things said to students". One chica taught Spanish for a season and had a girl in her class that was "ditzy" and she said/did something mindless one day in class and my friend (after this being the most recent offense in a long line of "ditzy" episodes) responsed, in an ungaurded moment, "You make me want to douse myself with gasoline and set myself on fire." - she later apologized. This was a freshman I believe.

I had a student - a kindergarten student - my first year of teaching, who was working on his handwriting. I was circling the room overseeing this task. I came to this young child (I was in, not only, my first year, but my first few weeks of a job I walked into mid-year and had never been trained for - yes, kindergarten. really. I was the teacher) and I offered some suggestions as to how to make this activity perhaps go a bit smoother for him. I offered these suggestions because, I said, "this looks like crap" - and gasp as the words left my mouth. I tried to move on quickly, hoping to more get to the point rather than focus on the problem. It was a bad moment.

I didn't get a phone call. Nor did my friend who wanted to set herself on fire.

Perhaps i should practice kinder words.

Doin what I can to keep it all together

2006-05-01T15:06:00.000-05:00

I'm so all over that.

I was at the bank today. I needed it to be a quick trip, so obviously that's not how it was going to go.

It was really busy in the drive-though lanes. I waited back in the single feeder lane to see which one opened up first. I thought I was good when I moved ahead. This should've been an omen. I chose the worst lane. Remember the scene in "Office Space" where Peter's on the way to work and the lane he squeezes into stops. The lane next to him starts moving. He switches lanes and the reverse happens. I chose the worst lane. I watch the two cars that were behind me get through their respective lanes in no time. Again, this should've been an omen.

I finally get to my space age high efficiency vacuum tube that will take my money to the nice people behind the bullet-proof glass. I take the cartridge out. I put my mullah in. I try to set the carrier back into the tube... it flies out of my hand (as many things do) and lands in the next lane over and rolls under the mini-van next to me. I'm in shock. This doesn't happen... well, clearly it does, it did, but it shouldn't.

Of course I can't get out of my car because I have done such a fine job of getting right up close to my vacuum tube that I am trapped. I must move up. At that moment the "I hope no one saw that" idea changes to "crap, I hope the person behind me saw that or else when I move up they will too and then I have to wait in line again.. and I've lost my money." Seems they did. I moved, they didn't.

I get out of my car and after some random hand motions that probably looked as thought I were attempting to land a plane, the nice lady in the mini-van one lane over backs up just enough for me to see my yellow cartridge that is holding my money hostage. Well, I've interrupted her transaction, she can't back up any more and yet, I can't quite get to my cartridge. I had to get down on the ground and I felt like I was playing Twister. "Right hand, oil spot. Left foot, grime pile" But I got the container.

I rush back to my vacuum, throw the cartridge in, hit "send carrier", get in my car, back up, breathe. This was ridiculous. I can't believe I did this.

This is the story people were telling around the dinner table tonight.

"With a few flowers in my garden, half a dozen pictures and some books, I live without envy." - Lope de Vega

2006-04-23T12:12:00.000-05:00

So i kept trying to post photo's of my world in bloom and blogger was hating me... so instead, just click here and see Spring at 1001.

2006-04-18T23:46:00.000-05:00

"Will God or someone give me the power to breathe my sigh into my canvases, the sigh of prayer and sadness, the prayer of salvation, of rebirth?"

Marc Chagall

2006-04-14T11:44:00.000-05:00

I mowed my lawn yesterday. This was the first time I mowed MY lawn with MY lawnmower (bought Sunday - that felt odd). I love mowing the lawn. I love the smell of cut grass. I love what a cut lawn looks like. I love the work and being outside.

I'm so glad spring is here.

Utah State Fair

2006-04-12T13:46:00.000-05:00

If you liked Napoleon Dynamite, this will be worth the look. Two ads for the Utah State Fair.

Google Earth

2006-04-03T03:14:00.000-05:00

Google Earth is one of my favorite internet musings. You can go absolutely anywhere in the world. It's the next step from the Atlas, but truthfully by "next step" I really mean next Universe. Who would've thought the "next step" would be so outstanding. I have always loved maps. I've actually had people become fearful and desperately mindful of the time when the question falls from my lips, "Where's your Atlas"... Replies range from the innocent and polite "Um... you know, haven't seen it in ages" to the more aggressive and blatant, "No. We cannot do this right now!"

I just spent the last two hours with Google earth. I remember places well and my sense of direction is fairly strong so I can navigate myself pretty decently anywhere I go. I don't forget places very easily, either. I just spent a half hour in Munich (summer '03) retracing my steps from a walking tour a friend and I took of pertinent places in Hitler's rise to power. I visited the meeting place of our group's gathering and took a walk through some main streets to get to the main train station. Found the art store I liked there. Found the toy store I had the most random coversation with a woman in (we discovered we knew a mutual friend from New York - maybe I'll write about that tomorrow). I strolled to the BMW pavilion and took the above ground route to my host home in the more suburban area. I went to Munich tonight because of Google Earth.

I also went to Prague. I found the Jewish ghetto where Franz Kafka was born and revisited my hotel. I found Jan Hus' monument and took a walk over the Charles Bridge to the Cathedral overlooking town because of Google Earth.

I went to Moscow just for a bit and saw Red Square and St. Basil's. Jess, I have a funny picture of you in front of Lenin's tomb somewhere. I forgot to look for the IKEA I remember off the expressway leaving the city. I forgot to look for this on Google Earth.

I went to Split, Croatia and walked through Diocletian's palace . Tried to go to Livno, Bosnia but the image was bad. I went to Krakow, Poland. I went to Vladimir, Russia. I went to Vienna, Austria. I went to Sudan and Kenya because of the book I just finished. On a more local level, I went to the spring of the Mississippi river and followed it home. I would like to revisit London and Dublin, Victoria Fall and Durban. I may visit Tokyo tomorrow. I may not. But I can.

It takes seconds to cross and ocean and get somewhere other . My mind is gone in moments. It takes no time at all... thanks to Google Earth.

"They Poured Fire On Us From The Sky"

2006-03-31T10:52:00.000-05:00

I finished reading this book last night. I wept as I went to sleep. My mind couldn't stop.

I thought about flying over Africa in 1999. I thought about the fact that I flew 5 miles over Sudan. I didn't even think about it then.

Three boys, two brothers and a cousin, were separated when war found them in the late 80's. They escaped and traveled alone or with groups at 5 - 10 years old. I think about some of my sweet, small students and wonder, if put in the same position, how would their need to survive drive them to do unnatural things for their age. Every town they came to, though, it seemed like, was directly on the path of the next attack and they could never find a place to just stop. You wonder how anyone can survive what the people of Sudan (and numerous other countries) have survived. The capability of the human mind and body and spirit is astounding... both on good and bad levels.

I met a man a year ago at a concert of an African choir. We chatted and it was warm until I asked where he was from. it was clear from his accent that he was African in addition to the colored pattern and style of the clothes he and his family were wearing for such an occasion. His demeanor became cautious and said "Iowa". I asked "originally" and he said "Just because you look like the queen doesn't mean you are from England". Conversation done.

I was... I don't know. I'd never felt that way before. I was uncomfortable the whole concert and cautious not to say anything about the music to my students who were with me that sounded uneducated and "american" as it was something I brought them to as their teacher and the man and his family were sitting in the row in front of me.

After the concert, he touched my arm and apologized. He looked at me directly and said "I am from Rwanda" and I had to breathe deep not to cry in front of this man. I apologized too. This man just wanted to be somewhere else. He had been spit out from home and the continual sojourn of trying to find another was just stopped because once again he was reminded "You're not from here either".

I will never know. I will never be able to relate. In those moments I am speechless and awed that someone has outrun death.

Find this book. Read it.

Substitue Chronicles #2456

2006-03-24T01:11:00.000-05:00

Today I subbed for 1st grade.

Ben and I were having reading "group" today. Just he and I because %50 of the group was sick. The class was getting loud so I said...

“I don’t want to hear an ounce of talking.”

Ben replied...

“You can’t measure talking in ounces.”

He never looked up from his book.

"Oh the places you will go"

2006-03-16T12:35:00.000-05:00

I love airports. I love planes. I love everything about this atmosphere. People are going somewhere and they are going everywhere because they just can. And no place is out of reach or unthinkable here. And you can fly. I don’t mean the literal action a plane takes, but what it is… being here means I will fly. And the magic takes over again of rising above the clouds and watching the earth below. This is fascinating to me. I never loved science overall, but I LOVED earth science, land formations, continental sciences. I flew to Africa from Europe and we flew over the Alps. And they towered and hosted clouds and met you above the clouds. They were wonderful. And then moments later, really, the unnamable blue of the Mediterranean was below me and it was a gorgeous pond of elusive waters. I fell asleep over it and prayed to be wakened to see the coast of Africa and when I woke next I was. We were over Tripoli. Overwhelming. It took 8 hours to head south across this land mass. But what amazed me most was the Sahara. I was flying over the Sahara and it was a tawny haze until I made out mild definition: sand dunes. And next, the space below was black with forest. Mold blowing to see all of this in a few hours. Watching the land below will never cease to captivate me. I would gorge myself on this. And it happens because I can fly. It’s enchanting.

I love seeing people’s shoes in airports. I look at these. You can tell which one’s are from Europe.

Seinfeld does a whole bit on what people are willing to spend in airports. I just spent $11.43 on a sandwhich, banana and a bottled water. I have quite a layover, but there’s no way I’d step beyond the boundaries of airport security because it’s such a pain to get back in. Frankfurt’s the worst with this. Their airport has what would be comparable to checkpoints… lot’s of points of entry. And just when you think you’ve cleared all the levels you find out you just haven’t. But their benches are comfortable to sleep on because there are no arms. I took one of Lufthansa’s blanket’s once and enjoyed a nap (until I was told my nap was done by a gentleman in airport wear). I still have the blanket.

I love watching the airport staff interact with each other like neighbors. They stop by to chat on the veranda’s of the eateries and admire each other as they’re walking the concourses. But they know each other because they work in the same vicinity. “You work on Concourse C. Me too. We’ll be seeing each other, then.” And they do. I’m sure there’s neighborhood gossip among the airport spokes. There’s probably a lot of inter-business dating.

People watching is always fun. That guy’s pants are really short. Does he know that? Yes, that man clearly was on vacation. He looks like a raccoon… or his tanning didn’t go very well. She must be tired of her children lagging behind but, oh, what cute luggage they have. Is that a man or a woman? I didn’t realize NASCAR made such apparel. But they have it in men’s and women’s clearly because that couple are wearing it all. That woman’s hair is quite large and she’s wearing a very faux leopard print jacket. Those two must be in their 70’s and they’re holding hands and I love that. Oh, that girl definitely missed her flight. That sucks. (that happened to me this morning. My schedule’s 5 hours off now. I’ll make it to my speaking engagement moments before I’m introduced)

I love the international climate of airports. I love being where polyglotinous conglomerates abound (those words together are probably a bit much. My apologies).

I don’t understand how women prefer to travel in 3” heels. That never seems like a good idea when walking long distances through the world’s large airports.

I love the bookstores. I will pay a lot of money for books in these just because, well, these particular shops are so inviting. And they really do have the most eclectic selection.

The people movers are fun. I have a friend that is looking forward to taking his children on these for entertainment, when they are old enough, when they have children.

I love the bathrooms. The stalls have floor to ceiling doors and this is very good. I have often found refuge in these. They are the most private place in an airport and though I really do love airports, I am still an introvert and need some space… not a lot… just not shared. The bathroom stalls do this for me. I’ve napped in them seated on my backpacks with my head against the door. No one is going to interrupt your solitude here. This is true.

Stories. Thousands of stories pass through these establishments daily. Stories of greatness, stories of victims, people going home to unexpected funerals and difficult families, people heading home to their spouses, people heading off to their affairs, people insecure, people unaware, people waiting to begin, people waiting to end. This is just a gallery and we are just performance art.

I walked off of the jetway and had my iPod on. Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek” was my soundtrack. Now it’s “Homeward Bound” – Appalachian folk song. I’ll end with Death Cab For Cutie’s “Soul Meets Body” streaming through my ears. The best line… “there are roads left in both of our shoes” and I’m off to follow mine.

...and what I did with it.

2006-03-09T14:45:00.000-05:00

Some of the work done to the house over the course of the weekend before I moved in...

Props to Krista Gleason who, as far as I'm concerned, painted the whole house.

And for this great honor, I'd like to thank... Darci (who also painted a great deal), and her husband Paul who housed my belongings for 4 months and carried a great many things. Kate, Bekah, Aaron, Annie, Whitney, Patrick, Kate C. All of you are Tremendous. None of this would have been possible without your love and support! I'd also like to thank the academy (music begins to cut me off...)

The whole house got painted that weekend.

The House

2006-03-09T14:38:00.000-05:00

It's taken a bit to get these up. Here they are.

Living Room/Dining

Kitchen/Three Season's room

Second Floor

Bathroom

Substitute Chronicles #22985: Carolyn and Brandon forever... or at least until Monday.

2006-02-24T13:35:00.000-05:00

I subbed for a kindergarten class this week. Just mornings. When I taught kindergarten full time I would collect stories regularly and write them down on whatever I could find quickly because the moment would pass; paper plates, napkins, post-it notes, my hand. This week wasn't bearing much fruit in the "folklore" category and I was becoming a bit disappointed. Today was a good day, though.

I was sitting with Levi and Brandon working on a puzzle and Levi (quite a loquatious boy) begins talking to Brandon (not so much... more of a dullard. He stood for 10 min. before this chosen activity, in the middle of the room, trying to decide how he was going to spend his free time) Levi takes off talking and the conversation went a little like this...

Levi: (insert various "um" 's and "hey" 's, all the while neither boy is looking at each other but the puzzle) Hey Brandon while you were gone in Florida I started liking Carolyn and she and I hung out and so while you were gone I liked her is that ok? I wanted to ask if that's ok because you were gone in Florida and I liked her so I started liking her while you were gone and and now you're back from Florida so I have a deal that we can make can we make a deal because when you're gone I can like Carolyn and when you're back you can like Carolyn so that's my deal do you think it's a good deal do you want to make that deal?

Brandon: (pause) Sure

Good... glad to know the girl's that expendable to you, Brandon. This is where it all begins. Levi totally went in for Brandon's girl. This is not going to go so well for him in the future. Clearly Brandon doesn't feel that attached to her. Or... he's a push over, which may entirely be the case. Or... he may just know how to pick his battles and he's actually quite a clever boy because at the end of the day when the students were being asked what they were going to do over the weekend Carolyn said she'd be having a "tea party... with a REAL tea set". But when Brandon was asked what he'd be doing he said "having a tea party with Carolyn"... and that's where it is. Levi will be playing his X-box. Maybe Brandon just knew "fine... like her... but you're a dork because she's going to end up with me because I will play tea party with her while you're off running virtual cars off the road. Carolyn and I... what we have is something real." and a date.

The Table

2006-02-22T00:41:00.000-05:00

I have this written on my work table...

The Table

on the four legs of my table,
i unwind my odes.
i put out bread, wine, and the roast (black ship of dreams)

or i spread scissors, cup, nails,
carnations, hammers,
my faithful table
a four legged titan,
bears up both my dreams
and my life

- pablo neruda

"oh! I forgot I owned that!"

2006-02-19T02:47:00.000-05:00

2 1/2 hours... that's all it took to move; to load up my crap, eat a few bagels, and take off. Unload time, minimal. What a team.

I'd like to say it's because they love me so much, but it's more likely it was because it was 15 degrees.

Bless them anyway.

Now the unpacking. My things have been out of sight, so, out of mind, since November 1... It's like Christmas... but a nightmarish one because everything I boxed up to give away has just been regifted... back to myself. That kind of sucks.

Here's to the first time owning my own house (read: "here's to the first time I get to owe the bank more money for anything I've ever owned... ever... for the basic human, physical need of shelter")

I'll post pictures of this sweet little abode soon. Stay tuned.

Swift Move '06

2006-02-16T14:44:00.000-05:00

For those joining the partay tomorrow, here you go - Directions and Details

Things that are red...

2006-02-14T23:15:00.000-05:00

What a good, strong color.

Well, I actually began this post sometime mid-December and never finished it. But I just read Mandy Drury's post on her favorite things and then I remembered I had started a "my-favorite-RED-things" post... and never finished. So, it IS Valentine's Day and I wore red today because, well, I really love this color, so here's my in-honor-of-red post... and the things that I like that are so.

Begun 12.15.05
I have been mulling over the idea of painting my main room a form of red (Not like.. "RED" - but a hearty red... this isn't going anywhere, is it?) I met the house inspector this morning and we went in and I got to review the room I would like to paint red and I still think it's a good choice. But this red-liking isn't simply relegated only to the function of paint in my life... there are many other "red" loves

* Red Sweatpants... I have friends that say, "once you have started wearing these in public, it is clear you've given up." I'm not entirely sure. I bought these a week ago from Old Navy and I am finding I would like to wear these everywhere. I have even thought about them during the day. I am loving them.
* Poppies - I'm kind of tweaking this because more often than not, people see the orangish ones. I like the red. I am not taking drugs... but might fail a drug test if I'm with these beauties of the yard a bit too long.
* Red Glass- My dad collects kerosene lanterns. A small group of them have these brilliant red glass globes and they're sitting in a ground level window in the corner of my parent's basement. I have a few candle holders that are red. One's a star from Seattle a friend brought home. It hangs from my ceiling.
* Red Sweatshirt- worn separately from the red sweatpants because, 1. THAT'S when I'll have given up. 2. They're two different shades of red. But this garment was a quest. I had begun on a journey with the red sweatshirt a while ago. Fellow journey-ers, chime in here. Quick version... a red sweatshirt was left at a friend's house during a meeting. No one claimed it, so the owner of the house did. She washed the sweatshirt one day. The sweatshirt changed hands to the people sharing space in their home... well, people... a person of the people sharing space in their home. This person had the sweatshirt (that the owner of the house had been in petition for) When the people sharing space with the homeowner's moved, the sweatshirt moved with them. I was at their house one day and cold. I got to borrow the sweatshirt with the mandate that it must be returned and I guess I don't understand because the sweatshirt didn't really have an owner in the beginning... shouldn't it just pass into my care? Apparently that was not the reasoning of the overpowering lender. Anyway, I finally found a great one at Marshall's. I love this red sweatshirt.
* Tomatoes - you either love them or you hate them. I love them. I have always loved them. My dad is an expert at growing them. Nothing better than one from the garden. This is one of my favorite things about summer.
* Simply Red - I liked this band in the 80's. And they contributed "Don't forget about me" from The Breakfast Club. Thanks.
* Stop signs - well, because they help keep us safe. They're likable enough for that reason. We should offer props for all they give to society.
* Red Osier Dogwood branches - Last Thanksgiving my cousin and I made an impromptu garland out of the stuff. A little Martha Stewart-ish, but I've liked the stuff ever since. I think I have one of these trees in my new yard.
* Pomegranates - I love these. They're gorgeous pieces of fruit.

Now after all this on red... I'll probably paint the rooms yellow.

Post Script... I actually painted the room brown... -ish.

Cut and...

2006-02-03T22:00:00.000-05:00

Paste magazine: Just in case you have not been made aware... this is a good idea.

Celebrations: The Pocket-in-a-pocket employed - a guest post.

2006-01-21T01:14:00.000-05:00

Well, due to such a fine turn-out on the previous post, I thought it befitting to ask a one Kate Zuccarello to further her thoughts on the pocket-in-a-pocket piece, et al following that ensued. Please welcome to the platform... Kate. She'll be here all week.

“There’s a Pocket in my Pocket” or rather “A People’s History of the Pocket in a Pocket” By Kate Zuccarello

[a guest post for a swiftly tilting planet of people]

The Pocket in a Pocket has become quite the trend these days. Some might surmise that this was another of those fabulously American phenomenon from the same people who brought us the concept of “supersizing”, the Flowbee vacuum powered home barbershop, and “inspected by number 17” tags [these aforementioned ideas all falling into my own category of “what is the need for that?”] It has been rumored as well that the Pocket in a Pocket is the handiwork of Steve Jobs as just another place you can store your gumstick size Ipod Shuffle. This is also not the case. Might I suggest that said Pocket in a Pocket might have a longer tale to relate; a tale that spans the ages and speaks of history, mystery, and wonder? For all practical purposes, we will call this the tale of the Pocket in a Pocket, an evolving and practical societal trend.

The first Pocket in a Pocket dates back to the ages of Yesteryear and Yore, actually with its first recorded sighting in the time of Christ and the Caesar’s. Though there were no Levis to be spotted then, there were plenty of togas and tunics to have the occasional Pocket in a Pocket innovation. Yes, Julius Caesar, paranoid that he had no hair, started the lovely “wreath of greenery” headband trend to cover up his balding problem. But while he was at it, he had to invent a place to store the extra ivy leaves should his wreath grow sparse when a wind might pick up throughout the day. Thus, you need a hidden pocket, and we see the birth of the Pocket in a Pocket. Jesus picked up on this trend storing the occasional parable cliff notes, should he forget the clever tale he was relaying, and even that doubting Thomas [still a doubter in the early years] kept a few hidden fish and loaves in his [increasingly smelly I might add] Pocket in a Pocket, should the promised feast not deliver.

As we walk toward the middle ages, we are greeted by Martin Luther, who used his Pocket in a Pocket to store the occasional, nails, tacks, and post-it notes, because he never really knew when he would have a thesis that he might have to post on the doors of many. Napoleon felt that his Pocket in a Pocket made him look taller. All of Charles V’s wives kept a list of his other wives in their Pocket in a Pocket so holiday gatherings wouldn’t be awkward when you forgot the other wives names. Science and the Arts didn’t skirt the Pocket in a Pocket either. Before “David” lost his clothes, you can bet they contained the Pocket in a Pocket. And Jonas Salk – Penicillin wasn’t discovered in a Petri dish, but instead in the mold growing inside of Salk’s Pocket in a Pocket on his lab coat. The Wright Brothers kept the occasional wingnut and bolt stored in their Pockets in a Pcoket, and unfortunately Amelia Earheart’s fifth pocket was on her other set of flight pants, because in it she usually kept her compass.

Which brings us up to modern times. The Pocket in a Pocket has stored the name of the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa, the guitar pick of Elvis Presley, Nixon’s Watergate Hotel key, the missing bullets from the Kennedy assassination, Monica Lewinsky’s dry cleaning bill, the lipstick of Tammy Faye, and the Sweet n Low of Cher. It truly has a plethora of handy uses. Think on such things the next time you need to store your Celebrations candy. You are in a long line of users…

Celebrations?

2006-01-18T14:51:00.000-05:00

I'd like to know what, exactly, it is that I am to be celebrating AND if the size of of these treats is an indicator... just how long am I supposed to celebrate?

I don't know if these are such a good idea for our society.

Johnny Cash makes me want to be a better person

2006-01-15T23:54:00.000-05:00

There, I said it.

First off, public thanks to Derek for the book. Derek read my poorly written bit about the movie "Walk The Line" where I stated I wanted to read as much as I could on the guy. Derek said, "I can do something about that. I work at Borders. Christmas is coming." And he did, in fact, do something about that. He bough "Cash: autobiography", and now I love this dead man.

The book is just a really good, earthy read. Good storytelling. Good American music history. But overall, this guy was just a really good guy and I'm reading about his sense of family, and his love for his friends and his value of people and it's saying a lot to me about how to live a good life. And I don't mean it in a "well we just all live a good life and the world will be nice" sort of way, but I mean "good" like, just really saturated with the concept of good as "goodness" was meant to be back when things really were. Like, way back to the garden, before we tripped and fell.

I don't know. I'm not good at book reports, and if your read my post on the movie, clearly not good at movie reviews either, but I'm just really loving this book. I read the Bible for a lot of reasons because I think the Bible is a lot of things, but one of the things it is is an anthology of lives and biographies that are important to read - people's lives that have things to hear about and emulate, or chalk up, understatedly, as a bunch of really bad ideas of "things I should not try at home" for valuable reasons as well. But as that stands, then stories that carry on the faith thread through people's lives and legacy's should continue to be read for those reasons too. I think I put this book in that category.

It's just a really good story about a person's life and I've been moved to be something more which is ok. I didn't expect that when I picked it up. I didn't expect to want to read it again. I didn't expect to walk away thinking, "I hope I can be that... kind, loving, generous, open, hospitable, wise, able...", etc. I just didn't. But I do.

So, there's my attempt to "sell" the book to you. I would recommend that you read it. You can tell me what you think. See if your attempts are as riveting as mine.

Hung Up

2006-01-08T16:02:00.000-05:00

I think I just lost a battle with a pile of hangers.

I moved out of my house the first of November and have been living somewhat nomadically since then (In pursuits of buying a house... not because I thought I'd like to wear on people's good graces for a while). I have been in one place for a month now and just decided to set up one of those temporary curtain rods that expands. I hung up my clothes. This instead of continually placing them back in the rubbermaids they were stored in, once again negating the nice dryer-fresh scent they had acquired from a nice wash and taking on that warm and cozy smell of... rubber. mmm. nice.

My hangers were at the Anderson's, who I'd like to give a congenial shout to for storing my crap longer than they had planned. I went to get them and there it began. Hangers, unlike no other thing on this earth, i think, can challenge one's mental stability. AND no other entity understands solidarity like our main character, the hanger. These devils stick together. Sometimes just in two's or three's. Most often in large packs. They do not like to go silently... or alone...

I managed to get my clothes hung up, but not without a fight. I had reached for one and just when I thought it was emerging without tether, I discovered a nasty web of metal maze that needed acute attention. They're very needy, these hangers. I tried reaching for some of my larger plastic ones and the necks broke under the burden and strain of tugging at them. They can hold my wet wool winter coat, but they cannot withstand a slight pull out of their lair... That's not bad design, that's intentional belligerence.

When I was hanging up my pants, I reached for strong metal ones that have clips on them. They're open ended at the length of the triangle. This posed a whole other issue adding a new dimension to the tangled. This variety could attach itself to any of the others and unite, not only because they had more open ended lines of metal but also because they could now inadvertantly become clipped to the other hangers.

Granted, these things are trying to be freed from a box, but it's the same business in the closet. They get caught in some intimate overlapping position which makes you wonder what's really going on in the closet. Or they clip on to one another getting clips caught because one hanger swung wrong as you pulled the garment off. Also, maybe a hanger began to fall and got caught grabbing on for dear life to another hanger (they're all very frightened of the undusted abyss that lies below... as we all are).

Of course, shaking them doesn't work. Oh sometimes you might get a weak one that wasn't prepared, but overall, they know what you're trying to do and most often, I think, this makes them angry and so they hold on tighter.

But they know you need them and they know your clothes would just stay on the floor, in the chair, on the dresser, or wherever else they fall, clean or dirty, if you didn't have them at your disposal. I know most of you do that with your clothes anyway but I don't think you do it with the excuse of "I'm just a clothes thrower..." No... I think you simply lost a battle with hangers once, too, and just aren't ready to admit that, perhaps, a nasty row with an inanimate object is something you lost. You'll feel better when you come to terms with this I think.

I'm a bit spent from that encounter. There's still a box of the hangers left over, taunting me, in the hall. They're still in a rather messy state. They know what they're doing and that annoys me. I had to walk away. I have to tell myself I'm not alone in this because, well, I don't believe I am. This is comforting. But does anyone have a better design in mind or does the ugliness just continue?

Oh The Places You Will Go

2005-12-20T17:49:00.000-05:00

I just found out last night that a friend of mine is moving to the South Pole... I think he's going to live in the U.S. Biodome for eight months. So in honor of that Scott...

"Keep cool, but do not freeze." — From a mayonnaise jar, but also makes a good winterover life rule.

"You want a real 'Survivor' show ? Oh, we'll give you the real thing. But sometimes we do wish we could vote people off the island." — Grant about wintering over at McMurdo.

Also, about a month or so ago I found out my cousin and his wife and 2 kids moved to a 5-square mile island in the Dutch Antilles... you can't really find it by looking it up as much as locating it latitudinally and longitudinally... It's called Saba. There are no numbers in their address... just a general idea which part of the volcano they live on.

I'm just wondering to myself, "how do I know these people?".

Here's to iTunes...

2005-12-15T01:48:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to Kate Bush right now. Kate Bush's CD (well... I had the tape) "Hounds Of Love" was one of my favorite recordings... ever. Also around the time this made its way into my life, Peter Gabriel's "Last Temptation of Christ" was in the deck. I had dubbed a friend's recording. High speed dub. I was listening to Erasure, Indigo Girls' "Closer to Fine", a bit of early R.E.M - any of the "Document", "Eponymous", "Green" or, especially "Out of Time" tapes. I had a beginning affinity for 19 year old Ani Difranco that I had seen at a small club downtown for $5 around that time in winter, some very early Sara Mclaughlan, Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians. Always the Beatles. And on the harder side for those days there was "Living Color"... the list goes on. It was the late eighties, I was between the ages of 12 and 14 and, by clear evaluation of my music choices, also a bit schizo.

At some point from the transition of "I will never own CD's. They're too expensive" to the "I never listen to tapes anymore" stages, I lost touch with these friends.

Then we moved to digital music and i have found that I cannot function a healthy life without iTunes nearby.

I had one of Kate Bush's song's in my head the other day and satiated that broken record by getting the CD... and then it began... I had to get all this music again. Because one song reminded me of another and so on. To iTunes I went and they were so helpful... those people that make my memories so accessable now. I am reliving these years... which could be good or bad, i suppose, but they had a great soundtrack.

So, I'm wondering, what was your soundtrack around these Jr. high years? I'm interested.

How did I get here?

2005-12-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

Being a grown-up is just surreal sometimes. I just bought a house.

2005-11-30T17:55:00.000-05:00

I just read my post from 10/17... turns out, I'm liar.

In addition, I just wanted to see if I could write a post less than three paragraphs. Clearly brevity and I are not friends.

It takes a village

2005-11-27T23:15:00.000-05:00

I really suck at this blogging thing.

Aside from that, today was a great Sabbath. My great friends, Gregg and Cyndi, had their baby dedicated today so I went to their church and enjoyed so much being a part of the intention of raising this kid we call Brennan Brave Hampton. I'm a big supporter of the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. And we felt like one, too, as we gathered on the left side of the church behind Gregg and Cyn - us people asked to "sponsor" and love and grow Brennan up to be a good boy and a better man. The church should've tipped a bit. We were a heavy village.

This past week I went home to NY to spend Thanksgiving with the fam. I joined up with an old and very good friend. We've known each other since we were 3 and our parents collectively raised us. We went to the hospital Wednesday night to visit her father-in-law in ICU. He passed the moment she arrived at his door. The family was called and we waited for them to arrive. The wife came with her two foster children, 4 and 6. Why could she think she would be good and qualified to raise them at her grand and respectable age of 80 something? Becuase she wouldn't be the only one offering direction and care... it would be the whole community.

As this family gathering was playing itself out, the wife and her daughter needed to step out. The two boys and their pepsi's were placed in one office-furniture chair next to me with the instructions, directed at me... "You yell at them if you need to", "Boys, you listen to this lady if she speaks to you." I'm an adult, somehow connected in some way - clearly I'm trustworthy and at that point in time, was a member of the village - therefore, I was to be heeded if I spoke.

The teacher in me whipped out a packet of colored pens and drawing paper from my magic satchel and we set off to create monsters and creatures not yet discovered. After Shaka had traced his sweet little hand and learned how to write his name he enjoyed expending his energy on large and fast strokes of the pens. The other was much more meticulous and clearly, and honestly, was quite creative with what he had.

People came in and out. A large community came and I noticed that when someone was not occupied with a family member, offering condolences or discussing, they were offering words of instruction to the children because, well, that's what you do. Children need not go too long without hearing the voice of some elder in their lives.

After the the evening was over, at least in the hospital, and many hugs were offered, "God bless you" was shared in abundance, and we moved like a tribe to the elevator, I said to my friend, "This is one of the things I love about the Black Community, they know what it means to be a family, even when they're not. They know how to take care of each other and they know how to be a "village", as it were." I remember thinking when one of the other adults spoke up to one of the boys about what they're were doing "We don't see much of this among us white folk" because white folk don't do this... and if they do, people get offended. We tend to be isolated and independent, to a fault. When another adult speaks to a child, offense is taken and often a "this is my territory" look is given. Ridiculous.

I liked today for so many reasons, but today was so good to see these friends of mine say, "we realize we can't do this alone. We need all of you behind not only us, but we need each one of you to be committed to our kid because we don't have everthing he needs... but hopefully one of us in this group does. And if we're lucky and blessed, you'll all be around at some stage of this precious kid's life and we give you permission to help shape him as you see fit." I just think that's cool. I think it's reflective of Jesus' kingdom, the one I hope to see happen here on earth.

So, Good Sabbath, good thoughts for my heart today.

Thanks Gregg and Cyndi and Brennan for letting me be a part of today.

Walk The Line

2005-11-27T23:00:00.000-05:00

Today's going to be a good day for the Jenn Swift blog. I'm posting twice because I saw "Walk The Line" today - the movie about Johnny and June Carter Cash - and I was... well, I loved it.

I've been excited about this movie for a few months. I'm not a die-hard Cash fan. I know those guys. Troy Yeager is a die-hard Cash fan. I saw him at homecoming shortly after The Man In Black died and I asked how he was doing with all the sincerity I would ask if a parent had died for him because it really was epic. So me, not die-hard, but I really like the guy. That atleast put me in the the-movie- was-being-looked-forward-to-greatly. Finally got to see it today.

It was the kind of movie that had me feeling a lot of a lot at the end. I couldn't even tell you what the "a lot" was, but it was deeplpy visceral (is that a bit redundant?) and I felt a bit like liquid when it ended 2 1/2 hours later. I haven't seen a movie fully be worth it's ticket cost in a while. This one was... probably twice. I would probably see this again. I would even own the movie and that's just not something I do. I don't buy movies. I would buy this one.

It was so worth it on many technical levels... great acting, good music, good scene work, good script... but beyond that, I left feeling something when the credits were playing. I say all that as an amateur - but I want to read eveything I can about this man, and June Carter for that matter. I want to own all their music. I want to dive in. I may become die-hard... atleast as much so as you can be after a musician dies. But I'm interested. This week I might become immersed. We'll see. But I'll see the movie again and I would recommend it to anyone I can, such as yourself. If you haven't yet, go see it.

Jenn's a duster

2005-11-11T16:44:00.000-05:00

I need a break. I should probably use a mask. I've been spray painting for the past hour. I am fascinated with spray paint and tagging. I really want to learn how to do this. A few years ago was when I started wanting to explore the hazy realm of graffiti. Two weeks after this new want I found myself in Russia next to some teenager and he was showing me how (not on public property... nice record that would've been - "American Pastor found desecrating public property in urban square with local band of taggers" - though, I'm sure, a great story that would be) He was working on a board. He let me spray a couple of lines and then gave me a cardboard box and some chalk. Not a very glamorous beginning. I apparently did not have the makings to start at "great".

I've messed around with the stuff a lot, feeling a little defensive everytime I show up at the walmart counter with 10 new cans. "Ma'am, can I see your ID?" "I promise, nice Walmart lady, I'm not huffin the stuff" - it looks a little suspicious. Clearly nothing good can come from that many cans of spray paint. None-the-less, spray I do.

In May a friend in Minneapolis asked if I would make some banners for a series their church was doing. I did two banners, 9 and 6 feet, gathered my arsenal of aeresols and went to it. Perhaps it was the fumes and the fact they were finished at 6am on a sleepless night, but I felt good about how they turned out. A week later I was in Australia at Juggler's Cafe feeling a bit more like, "why do I bother?"

Peter opened the garage door and we entered a long corridor that would be an alley between buildings if it weren't a passage made for them. The walls were completely covered and layered with images that were like nothing I'd ever seen. The smell of paint cans and brick wall (yes, that is a specific smell) was enchanting. After about 40 feet the corridor opened into a courtyard with walls maybe 15ft high and I was hit with sensory overload and it was great. Taggers had been invited over and over again to make these huge walls their playground. I felt like I was gorging myself on images and I would soon have to purge.

When I was in high school I found out about the Egyptian's philosophy of images and heard about something called horror vacui - fear of space - which is why there's no space left unfilled in their pyramid art. This experience left me feeling very much like what I imagined the Egyptians feeling. Every space was covered with something. I have a bit of affinity towards this philosophy myself which may have been why I had something of an emotional response to this all as I entered. It felt like a sanctuary.

I'm wheezing a little bit while I'm breathing right now. Lungs repair themselves, right? I grew up living in a house of smokers, left fairly unscathed, but I'm sure I'll die of lung cancer do to my artistic pursuits. Is that ironic?

Somebody just walked into the room and said, "it smells like spray paint in here". I'm a good football field away from where I'm working on the piece, but it's all over my hands, my jeans and the smell has seeped into my jacket simply by association. "It's me" I confessed, and slowly raised my hand.

I think my head's a bit heavier now, I'm probably coming down a bit from any impairing fume inhalation... time to get back to it.

3//THREE//AUSTRALIA - First Australians

2005-10-21T05:49:00.000-05:00

Part of this post is taken from a June 16 letter.

**********

First Australians is an organization in Brisbane that provides consulting and resources for Aboriginal people that are wanting to start their own businesses or be further represented in the community. The Aboriginal people groups of Australia are a group that face many of the same difficulties that Native Americans encounter as displaced people groups. The thing you may find surprising, however, is that aboriginal people here in Australia did not gain citizenship until 1972. For about 100 years prior to that, the Australian government was trying to assimilate this race into the Caucasian one, literally diluting the aboriginal coloring and features out of their race. It only takes four generations to do this as the aboriginal coloring and features are extremely recessive.

Monique is a woman that works with First Australians. She is a white woman in appearance. Bridget is also an aboriginal woman, however, she is quite dark. Both of these women come from backgrounds where only one parent is aboriginal. It is a startling reality that there are almost no full-race aboriginals anymore due to this governmental process that has occurred in Australia's history. (I want to encourage you to read any information you might find by google searching "The Stolen Generation". Also, "Rabbit Proof Fence" is an excellent movie to get a better picture of what this policy did to a people)

The meeting with Bridget and Monique was arranged because our team was interested learning more about the art of the aboriginal people. The organization works closely with aboriginal artists and so they agreed to meet with a team of American's interested in cultural arts. The team today spent about an hour and a half with these two women learning about specific elements relating to art of the aboriginal cultures but we dove deeply into the history and struggles of this people group. The conversation and time spent were exceedingly meaningful and insightful.

Leanne joined us. As she is very intent on the realities of a social gospel, we spoke about racial reconciliation and how to further pursue that. Bridget invited Leanne into thinking about this together which was very cool for Leanne. Today's meeting with these two women was extremely significant to starting a relationship with them. But we just went to talk to them about art, right?

Today was just an example to us of what the arts in a context could potentially be. As a team, we were pretty excited we were able to be a part of connecting these two groups together in a very safe and non-threatening way. We were also just really overwhelmed with the gift of speaking with these two women who gave us some thoroughly insightful pieces of information with which to understand the culture we're in and the place that produced these works of art which are the stories of people that Jesus loves.

After that meeting, Bridget invited us to come to an opening the next evening of 5 aboriginal men who had worked with large canvases to create native images valuable to each "tribe" represented. Great exhibit.

Also, we found out one of the women who had been in my bookmaking class that week was actually quite a well known aboriginal artist and was featured in the catalogue of National Aboriginal artists Bridget had at the organization.

Bridget has a great vision for a traveling exhibit that would combine pieces both from the Aboriginal people group and the African American people group that focus on responses to their respective oppression both currently and historically. It would be a very powerful exhibit.

Derek (one of the team mates) works at a the new fine art facility here and has begun looking into the possibility of bringing that here to start it's tour. There are numerous galleries in America that would be thrilled about hosting such an exhibit. We loved the vision and as she was explaining it, I started crying. It really moved me. We'd love to see this happen. And I'd love to work with Bridget.

Our time with Bridget and Monique was really good from a creative standpoint. But it was extremely valuable from a personal one as well.

pictures from the exhibit.

2//TWO//AUSTRALIA - Traffic Boxes

2005-10-20T11:03:00.000-05:00

One of the coolest things about Brisbane is this thing they do with Traffic Boxes. You know the metal boxes that are at every stop light in the world. Anthony Lister is an Australian artist that cares, I think at least, about community art. I love community art. Just stuff out in the community that people can sit on, lean on, touch. The stuff that's a part of life and gets worn away like we do. Art that's not on a wall somewhere with a security guard looking over your shoulder, "I'm sorry. You're too close. The painting can feel you breathing on it and it doesn't care for that too much. The paintings here, they would prefer not to be breathed on" Community art doesn't care - "come you poor, weak and weary. Sleep on me tonight. Spit and pee on me if you have to, but I'm here and, well, I can't go anywhere"

So Anthony Lister pushed for this. I got to meet Anthony on Friday night. He rents studio space at a place called Juggler's Cafe and Peter Breen was kind enough to show us around. Peter is a guy who, I don't know, just like him a lot. He has a passion for artists and the arts and I just love what he's doing with that. I would encourage you to visit his site. Next year the team hopes to spend some more time with him. The space they have is incredible. Anyway, Anthony was working late, preparing for a show in NYC.

Back to the traffic boxes... I tried to take pictures of every traffic box I could. Tons of local artists attacked these things and made them amazing. I'll also include some other public art I found around.

2005-10-18T11:01:00.000-05:00

2005-10-18T11:00:00.000-05:00

1//ONE//AUSTRALIA - "I Come From A Land Down Under"

2005-10-18T09:43:00.000-05:00

If you never got into "Men At Work" - that's too bad. They had one of the best songs of the 80's and it has staying power (They were also not a one-hit-wonder as some might think.

In June I took a small team to Australia in partnership with a missional church in Brisbane. It was the first of what will be many trips and partnerships in conjuction with an organization I started last summer. The organization was started out of my heart for the arts, the realization that there is a disconnect between Jesus' family and society overall in this area and my desire simply to be with creative people, creating places for them to serve, because generally there just aren't any when it comes to faith communities.

Ken and Leanne Baker said "Come! We'll help you see if this works or not" - what wonderful people. And so we came.

For the first few days we trapsed. Trapsed to galleries, trapsed around town, trapsed to the neighborhood center where Ken and Leanne should start paying rent ( http://www.newfarmneighbourhood.org/ ). Good thing it's a community center. And it is a wonderful place. Many of the people that come in and out are people who come in and out of a lot of places. But it always seems to be a hub and it's where we found ourselves a lot.

We taught art classes for a week and were just really glad to see the response. Why this was so cool was because Ken and Leanne (please visit their link to the right) have developed such a great friendship with the center that it was a welcome exchange on both parts. We were able to provide classes for a center that wouldn't have the resources to focus into art instruction, but could certainly find it beneficial for the people that use the center. In addition it connected Ken and Leanne and the center to more people.

Ken and Leanne are extraordinary people and as long as I've known them have been purveyors of a social gospel. The reality that Jesus' Kingdom isn't completely about where you're going when you die, but it's the renewal of life while we're still here that goes beyond the thinking that we're in this just so we can all achieve personal holiness. They have no church building, they live in their community, and function as though they really believe that "church" is more what happens outside of the typical Sunday gathering time than in it. I think you might get an idea of what this looks like in theory, but I feel very few really understand how that functions. (Read "Shaping of Things to Come" to get an idea). Also Adam and Christy Lipscomb spent three months of a summer with the Bakers before planting their church in Grand Rapids, Michigan and are pursuing community in a very similar manner (City Life Wesleyan Church). So this providing of classes and exchange of resources and exploring creativity as a relational connecting was very much in tune with the life of City Wesleyan Church.

I certainly can't cover it all, but following are excerptsand randoms from letters I sent to my prayer teams this summer.

For image sake

2005-10-17T17:22:00.000-05:00

Wanderlust

2005-10-17T09:52:00.000-05:00

...is one of my favorite words. I think it might be a clinical assessment of what I've got. The condition is growing and, well, I have no intention of curbing this. Over the next few days you'll find posts relating to my travels this summer and into the fall. I'm writing first about Australia. I'll write about Croatia and Bosnia next. I'll end with Austria, Italy and Poland.

Here we go...

2005-10-17T02:43:00.000-05:00

I don't know why I'm doing this. I generally have a specific disdain for blogs. People really think other people want to know about stuff... just stuff... and it gives anyone a forum and I think it's a big break in the levy... "Hey everyone, come on in! Publish WHATEVER YOU WANT!!!!" I don't like the lack of filtration. And people who really don't have good ideas at all are gaining a following. People become addicted to posting. They do things specifically to post them later on. They create pretend lives. And then it makes people think they have relationships with people that they don't really have.

It also stresses me out. "Can I keep up with my friend's blogs!?", "Can I post frequently enough? When do I know if I'm posting too much!?" I couldn't even handle the "creating a blog" pressure. I couldn't seem to come up with, at least, an adequate sign-in name that wasn't already occupied. I felt like my mom trying to program our first VCR. It took 15 minutes to come up with something very un-creative. But I'm here.

But this is peer pressure in the early part of this century. This is what "everybody's doing it" looks like at this point in time; it's blogging. This is what "everyone" is doing... atleast the everyone I know... which are largely my college friends.

Actually, I thought a pre-requisite for having a blog was having a kid and I don't, so I didn't think I would have anything pertinent to blog about amongst this group. I've been told not to worry about. I've been advised to blog anyway.

So, all things considered, here we go.