Here's a little poem I wrote (you might want to read it note by note..)
This little bit of poesy came to me last summer. It reminds me of my Grandma Cherie, who died a couple years ago. Although I miss her terribly, I can't complain because just knowing her added a richness to my life that not everybody gets to begin with-- it's like complaining about having to go home after a day at Disneyland. Anyway, here it is.
Poem:
7-10-2008
Her garden is a hidden bowl of sunlight.
Raucous colors dance around her as she grubs.
There are no barbs, no weapons, no defenses.
She doesn't know how beautiful she is.
I didn't say it was going to be a long poem (and yes, I know it doesn't rhyme. I sound like Dr. Suess when I try to rhyme). Just think of it as a little verbal sketch.
"As drawn by a true an' lovin' hand"*
If you don't like it, I don't want to know.
Happy March.
*yet another movie line. No fair using google this time!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Why I think Captain Kirk is cute:
You can stop making those faces (Adrienne!) because I don't mean I think he's cute in the paste-his-face-inside-my-locker sense. It's a different kind of cute, almost the diminutive sense of the word.
I was thinking about this a couple days ago (when I was avoiding homework, which is also what I'm doing right now, by the way). I am often quite embarassed to admit how much I enjoy watching Classic Trek. I can't even stand to have other people in the room while I watch because it's so very ridiculous and full of cheese. I mean even if Kirk didn't tromp around with his gut sucked in, populating his lines with those famously erratic pauses as he alternates between looking bemused, attractive/ed, and heroically angry, there are still the outrageously costumed aliens (shiny fabric+tons of eyeshadow=alien, with the optional misshapen head every now and then-just to spice things up), the ship that sounds like the inside of an old fashioned submarine and looks like someone had a wild night with a bedazzler, and all those poor women officers who stoicly carry on doing whatever it is they do do even though starfleet cruelly refuses to issue them anything in the way of pants. These things are ridiculous and wrong and laughably crude...and I am 99% sure that this is why I like the show so very much.
It's probably the artist in me, gleefully lording it over the disciples of Science that their first majorly popular (at least in America--sorry Dr. Who) science fiction show should be so very silly. I mean, if the modern scientist of the '60s' conception of the greater universe is one in which all the really smart aliens sit around all day waiting for unsuspecting humanoids to wander by and get pulled into some character-testing experiment or other (only to be outwitted/won over by Kirk's raw manliness and cunning), then maybe the scientists of today are not the "god-like smarty-pants"* everyone seems to think they are. (OK- I don't mean to sound harsh or anything, but does anyone else get the feeling that we're all just hoping that unspecified amounts of science will eventually provide the answers to all our problems?)
Also, I think, from a more philosophical standpoint, I am intrigued by the show as a representative of what people in the past imagined the future to be. Like in the 1960 version of "the Time Machine," when the guy made a stop in the 1980s and everyone was walking around in orange jumpsuits and hardhats. It's interesting how, no matter how hard you try, you can never really get a handle on how things are going to turn out. Clearly, the writers of Classic Star Trek figured we'd be zipping around the galaxy before we ever developed a communicator smaller than a credit card, or information storage devices the size of our thumbs.
And then there's the characters and the plot. They're all so simple and broad-stroked and so unashamedly earnest. I can't help liking them. I get the same feeling when a first grader solemnly informs me that if he had two wishes, he would ask for a motorcycle and one hundred cats. In some ways, you can see what's coming a mile away (and feel smart) and then you suddenly get broadsided by some totally outlandish development (and are entertained). Other attempts have been made to expand the Start Trek universe, as it were, but something of that initial ridiculous "naked and unashamed" innocence is lost.
And that is why, no matter how authoritatively Captain Picard commands his Number One to "Make it so," I will always prefer the company of Kirk, Spock, and the rest of the gang.
Well, now I'd better get back to some more serious thinking.
happy Thursday, everyone!
*What movie is that line from?
I was thinking about this a couple days ago (when I was avoiding homework, which is also what I'm doing right now, by the way). I am often quite embarassed to admit how much I enjoy watching Classic Trek. I can't even stand to have other people in the room while I watch because it's so very ridiculous and full of cheese. I mean even if Kirk didn't tromp around with his gut sucked in, populating his lines with those famously erratic pauses as he alternates between looking bemused, attractive/ed, and heroically angry, there are still the outrageously costumed aliens (shiny fabric+tons of eyeshadow=alien, with the optional misshapen head every now and then-just to spice things up), the ship that sounds like the inside of an old fashioned submarine and looks like someone had a wild night with a bedazzler, and all those poor women officers who stoicly carry on doing whatever it is they do do even though starfleet cruelly refuses to issue them anything in the way of pants. These things are ridiculous and wrong and laughably crude...and I am 99% sure that this is why I like the show so very much.
It's probably the artist in me, gleefully lording it over the disciples of Science that their first majorly popular (at least in America--sorry Dr. Who) science fiction show should be so very silly. I mean, if the modern scientist of the '60s' conception of the greater universe is one in which all the really smart aliens sit around all day waiting for unsuspecting humanoids to wander by and get pulled into some character-testing experiment or other (only to be outwitted/won over by Kirk's raw manliness and cunning), then maybe the scientists of today are not the "god-like smarty-pants"* everyone seems to think they are. (OK- I don't mean to sound harsh or anything, but does anyone else get the feeling that we're all just hoping that unspecified amounts of science will eventually provide the answers to all our problems?)
Also, I think, from a more philosophical standpoint, I am intrigued by the show as a representative of what people in the past imagined the future to be. Like in the 1960 version of "the Time Machine," when the guy made a stop in the 1980s and everyone was walking around in orange jumpsuits and hardhats. It's interesting how, no matter how hard you try, you can never really get a handle on how things are going to turn out. Clearly, the writers of Classic Star Trek figured we'd be zipping around the galaxy before we ever developed a communicator smaller than a credit card, or information storage devices the size of our thumbs.
And then there's the characters and the plot. They're all so simple and broad-stroked and so unashamedly earnest. I can't help liking them. I get the same feeling when a first grader solemnly informs me that if he had two wishes, he would ask for a motorcycle and one hundred cats. In some ways, you can see what's coming a mile away (and feel smart) and then you suddenly get broadsided by some totally outlandish development (and are entertained). Other attempts have been made to expand the Start Trek universe, as it were, but something of that initial ridiculous "naked and unashamed" innocence is lost.
And that is why, no matter how authoritatively Captain Picard commands his Number One to "Make it so," I will always prefer the company of Kirk, Spock, and the rest of the gang.
Well, now I'd better get back to some more serious thinking.
happy Thursday, everyone!
*What movie is that line from?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A new thought
Hello friends!
I should be working hard on my homework, but it's not happening tonight. Instead, I'm going to talk to you.
I've decided to stop being afraid of people. It's crazy, I know, but I've been doing alot of thinking and that's what I have decided. See, I am not an intimidating personage (at least, I don't think I am- I'm certainly not intimidated by me.) As Piglet says, "It's hard to be brave when your such a small animal." I've generally viewed strangers, and even some acquaintances, as dangerous and, as a sort of defense, given them a wide berth and generally tiptoed around them, avoiding eye contact if possible. But now I think that was a silly plan. Sooner or later, even the smallest creatures get noticed, and it's the scared and lonely ones at the edge of the pack who get eaten first anyway. Plus (and this is a major plus) every time a person encounters another person, it is an opportunity for that person to be treated like a decent human being (whether they feel like a member of the human race or not). How ridiculous would I be if I kept waiting around to be called to some far off mission field when all this time God has been bringing the mission field to me in the form of that punk kid on the skateboard at Wal-Mart whose baggy clothes and black eyeliner are just daring me to treat him like the leper he thinks he is? Should I pass up the opportunity to treat him like he's a valuable person with a future? Heck no! If everyone just treats the kid like he's a menace, sooner or later he's going to act like one (if he hasn't already), but if I can with a simple smile and friendly greeting plant a little seed of doubt in his 'nobody gives a ___ about me, so ___ you all' persona, maybe he'll begin to see things just a little bit differently.
Besides, what is the good of saying I believe in an omnipotent God who loves me, who is the ultimate definition of love, if I'm not going to act like it? If all that is true, and God's Holy Spirit really does live in me, then every place that belongs to me belongs to Him, and everywhere I step is a part of His domain, and in His domain I am priceless...and so is everybody else.
Don't worry, I'm not going to go passing my phone number out to every ne'er-do-well that crosses my path. Being kind to people does not mean being careless, it means seeing (or trying to see) them the way God sees them, and acting accordingly.
Well, sorry if that got a little preachy. It wanted to come, so I let it (which is, according to Pooh Bear, the best way to write).
I should be working hard on my homework, but it's not happening tonight. Instead, I'm going to talk to you.
I've decided to stop being afraid of people. It's crazy, I know, but I've been doing alot of thinking and that's what I have decided. See, I am not an intimidating personage (at least, I don't think I am- I'm certainly not intimidated by me.) As Piglet says, "It's hard to be brave when your such a small animal." I've generally viewed strangers, and even some acquaintances, as dangerous and, as a sort of defense, given them a wide berth and generally tiptoed around them, avoiding eye contact if possible. But now I think that was a silly plan. Sooner or later, even the smallest creatures get noticed, and it's the scared and lonely ones at the edge of the pack who get eaten first anyway. Plus (and this is a major plus) every time a person encounters another person, it is an opportunity for that person to be treated like a decent human being (whether they feel like a member of the human race or not). How ridiculous would I be if I kept waiting around to be called to some far off mission field when all this time God has been bringing the mission field to me in the form of that punk kid on the skateboard at Wal-Mart whose baggy clothes and black eyeliner are just daring me to treat him like the leper he thinks he is? Should I pass up the opportunity to treat him like he's a valuable person with a future? Heck no! If everyone just treats the kid like he's a menace, sooner or later he's going to act like one (if he hasn't already), but if I can with a simple smile and friendly greeting plant a little seed of doubt in his 'nobody gives a ___ about me, so ___ you all' persona, maybe he'll begin to see things just a little bit differently.
Besides, what is the good of saying I believe in an omnipotent God who loves me, who is the ultimate definition of love, if I'm not going to act like it? If all that is true, and God's Holy Spirit really does live in me, then every place that belongs to me belongs to Him, and everywhere I step is a part of His domain, and in His domain I am priceless...and so is everybody else.
Don't worry, I'm not going to go passing my phone number out to every ne'er-do-well that crosses my path. Being kind to people does not mean being careless, it means seeing (or trying to see) them the way God sees them, and acting accordingly.
Well, sorry if that got a little preachy. It wanted to come, so I let it (which is, according to Pooh Bear, the best way to write).
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Someday, I won't be spending my Saturdays by myself. As fun as it may sound, doing whatever you want whenever you want to is not all it's cracked up to be. Someday, I will be surrounded by people-- husband, kids, the works. Probably I will be very busy arranging things, providing things, disciplining when necessary, enjoying and being enjoyed. And in the midst of all that action and interaction, I hope that I remember what it was like to be alone. I hope that I can appreciate this season that I'm in right now so that when things are different this time will not have been wasted. Because you can really only live one moment at a time, and when I am living this future life that I hope for, I won't be enjoying my own uninterrupted thoughts in my secret room in Mount Vernon where everything I want is within arm's reach and the dishes are done in two minutes.
It has taken me a while to realize that just because things aren't what I planned them to be, it is not a sign of cosmic failure. It just means that, apparently, my plans weren't big enough.
It has taken me a while to realize that just because things aren't what I planned them to be, it is not a sign of cosmic failure. It just means that, apparently, my plans weren't big enough.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Guess where I am right now!
Give up?
I'm in my new digs, my secret room in that big ole house up on the hill in Mount Vernon, listening to Paul Simon, sipping a caramel macchiato (sp?) and siphoning off my downstairs neighbor's internets while it rains like the end of the world outside. I heave a great sigh of contentment. (Seriously, I really did just sigh. I'm that pleased!)
For those of you not in the know, I recently moved. Actually, my family helped me move (an adventure worthy of its own post. Sometime when I'm not so relaxed I shall relate the harrowing affair in its entirety. It involves a ton of junk that Sarah hasn't the heart to get rid of, a "one-wheel drive" U-haul, a hotel room, and lots and lots of snow.)
I just had one of those Christmas breaks that are so good for the soul that they leave you feeling ready to take on the world. My mom and dad and brother and I basically got snowed in at my grandpa's house in Port Angeles (the promised land--flowing with creamy soups and prime rib). We consumed a scandalous amount of food (four Costco pumpkin pies!), slid down the hill on giant garbage bags (snow in the face, but still delicious fun!), played card games, figured out the chord changes for a couple of Christmas Carols, watched movies, and snoozed. But the best part, the very best part of it all, was the time we spent just sitting around and talking. It was sweet and rich like expensive dark chocolate. And, to top it off, I got to hold the long awaited Barley* (a.k.a. Greta) on two separate pilgrimages to Walterland!
Well, that's about all I can write right now. Mr. Simon has fallen silent, my frothy caramel-flavored coffee has been sipped to its whipped cream and syrup dregs, and laundry beckons.
"Farewell, old friend[s]...until our next meeting."
(Who says that line, Adrienne? Mine is an evil laugh...)
* 'The Barley' is an affectionate family nickname for my cousin's new baby. Her real name is Greta Cherie Walter. She was just born two and a half weeks ago.
Give up?
I'm in my new digs, my secret room in that big ole house up on the hill in Mount Vernon, listening to Paul Simon, sipping a caramel macchiato (sp?) and siphoning off my downstairs neighbor's internets while it rains like the end of the world outside. I heave a great sigh of contentment. (Seriously, I really did just sigh. I'm that pleased!)
For those of you not in the know, I recently moved. Actually, my family helped me move (an adventure worthy of its own post. Sometime when I'm not so relaxed I shall relate the harrowing affair in its entirety. It involves a ton of junk that Sarah hasn't the heart to get rid of, a "one-wheel drive" U-haul, a hotel room, and lots and lots of snow.)
I just had one of those Christmas breaks that are so good for the soul that they leave you feeling ready to take on the world. My mom and dad and brother and I basically got snowed in at my grandpa's house in Port Angeles (the promised land--flowing with creamy soups and prime rib). We consumed a scandalous amount of food (four Costco pumpkin pies!), slid down the hill on giant garbage bags (snow in the face, but still delicious fun!), played card games, figured out the chord changes for a couple of Christmas Carols, watched movies, and snoozed. But the best part, the very best part of it all, was the time we spent just sitting around and talking. It was sweet and rich like expensive dark chocolate. And, to top it off, I got to hold the long awaited Barley* (a.k.a. Greta) on two separate pilgrimages to Walterland!
Well, that's about all I can write right now. Mr. Simon has fallen silent, my frothy caramel-flavored coffee has been sipped to its whipped cream and syrup dregs, and laundry beckons.
"Farewell, old friend[s]...until our next meeting."
(Who says that line, Adrienne? Mine is an evil laugh...)
* 'The Barley' is an affectionate family nickname for my cousin's new baby. Her real name is Greta Cherie Walter. She was just born two and a half weeks ago.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wow, these blogs are not easy to keep up!
OK, so maybe they are, and I'm just lazy. Oh well. We're not getting graded for this, right?
So lately, I've been thinking about words and how silly they are. More specifically, I've been trying to think of a list of words that make me laugh...and then I realized that it's the context that makes them funny, so what good is a list? Nevertheless, in an attempt to put something on my blog for the month of December, here are some words that make me smirk whenever I hear them.
The first is the word "Abyss." Now, I know there's not anything inherently funny about a huge gaping hole that never ends, full of darkness and doom and all that. But whenever I hear someone say the word "abyss," I like to pretend that they really said "abbess." And then it's hilarious. I mean, who doesn't laugh at the thought of an enormous and malicious balrog (to take an example from the Fellowship of the Ring) being sent back to some equally enormous matriarchal nun, to suffer a stern lecture and have his knuckles rapped for terrorizing those poor hobbits?
And while we're on the subject of movies, the entire "Chronicles of Riddick" series wins the prize for most ridiculous word usage. If the movies weren't so full of grisly violence and naked ladies, I would watch them more often, just to laugh at their (apparently serious) choice of names, like "furions" (those people get really angry all the time) and "underverse" (every time I hear it, I think of underwear, and I can't take any of them seriously).
I have to watch myself when I go to the movies, because otherwise I'll snigger at the most inopportune times. My friend Alisha likes this, because then she feels safe to smirk when the evil villain, in all seriousness, dons his preposterous spiky metal hat (decorated with the grimaces of the tortured souls he has vanquished, no doubt) before grandstanding about world domination, etc., just long enough for our hero to prevent him from pushing the button that will destroy the universe...or underverse as the case may be.
OK, so there it is, your December post. I hope you like it.
And if I don't write again until January, Merry Christmas to everyone!
Sarah
PS- If you want to have some more fun with movies, try watching the Three Musketeers and substituting the word "mouseketeers" every time someone refers to "musketeers."
OK, so maybe they are, and I'm just lazy. Oh well. We're not getting graded for this, right?
So lately, I've been thinking about words and how silly they are. More specifically, I've been trying to think of a list of words that make me laugh...and then I realized that it's the context that makes them funny, so what good is a list? Nevertheless, in an attempt to put something on my blog for the month of December, here are some words that make me smirk whenever I hear them.
The first is the word "Abyss." Now, I know there's not anything inherently funny about a huge gaping hole that never ends, full of darkness and doom and all that. But whenever I hear someone say the word "abyss," I like to pretend that they really said "abbess." And then it's hilarious. I mean, who doesn't laugh at the thought of an enormous and malicious balrog (to take an example from the Fellowship of the Ring) being sent back to some equally enormous matriarchal nun, to suffer a stern lecture and have his knuckles rapped for terrorizing those poor hobbits?
And while we're on the subject of movies, the entire "Chronicles of Riddick" series wins the prize for most ridiculous word usage. If the movies weren't so full of grisly violence and naked ladies, I would watch them more often, just to laugh at their (apparently serious) choice of names, like "furions" (those people get really angry all the time) and "underverse" (every time I hear it, I think of underwear, and I can't take any of them seriously).
I have to watch myself when I go to the movies, because otherwise I'll snigger at the most inopportune times. My friend Alisha likes this, because then she feels safe to smirk when the evil villain, in all seriousness, dons his preposterous spiky metal hat (decorated with the grimaces of the tortured souls he has vanquished, no doubt) before grandstanding about world domination, etc., just long enough for our hero to prevent him from pushing the button that will destroy the universe...or underverse as the case may be.
OK, so there it is, your December post. I hope you like it.
And if I don't write again until January, Merry Christmas to everyone!
Sarah
PS- If you want to have some more fun with movies, try watching the Three Musketeers and substituting the word "mouseketeers" every time someone refers to "musketeers."
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Happy Post
I realize that my last post was a bit of a downer, and then I didn't write for weeks afterward. Do not concern yourself, devoted reader, with the thought that I have been miserable this whole time. I haven't. I'm just not always as eloquent when I'm busy and happy. Lots of writers are that way. How many poems do you know of that go: "Life is swell. I like myself. Yay!"? Isn't it far more common to read something along these lines: "I feel like an orange that's been run over with all my dried up guts sticking out. Oh yeah, and nobody understands me."?
So, in order to bring balance to the Force (or, at least, to this blog) I have composed an open list of things that make me happy. This is a technique stolen from my friend Alisha (writer and grammarian), and I stole the idea of stealing it from my other friend Adrienne (librarian extraordinaire)...or else it was the other way around. Anyway, here it is:
My Open List of Happiness*
1. kids
2. hugs from kids
3. when kids are kind to other kids
4. chicken dinner
5. my brother's "interested face"
6. my mom's tattoo
7. when my dad preaches
8. sweaters
9. music (if I got more specific, this list would never end)
10. the gospel of John
11. CS Lewis and GK Chesterton
12. classic Trek
13. when the sidekick saves the day
14. car trips
15. family gatherings
16. early mornings on vacation
17. the sound of people sleeping
18. a good conversation
19. when I can help someone
20. the smell of trees
21. sunset in the desert
22...
Ah, that feels better!
*This is an "open" list. That means you can add things to the list if you want. Simply post a reply and start with the next number on the list. Interactive art!
So, in order to bring balance to the Force (or, at least, to this blog) I have composed an open list of things that make me happy. This is a technique stolen from my friend Alisha (writer and grammarian), and I stole the idea of stealing it from my other friend Adrienne (librarian extraordinaire)...or else it was the other way around. Anyway, here it is:
My Open List of Happiness*
1. kids
2. hugs from kids
3. when kids are kind to other kids
4. chicken dinner
5. my brother's "interested face"
6. my mom's tattoo
7. when my dad preaches
8. sweaters
9. music (if I got more specific, this list would never end)
10. the gospel of John
11. CS Lewis and GK Chesterton
12. classic Trek
13. when the sidekick saves the day
14. car trips
15. family gatherings
16. early mornings on vacation
17. the sound of people sleeping
18. a good conversation
19. when I can help someone
20. the smell of trees
21. sunset in the desert
22...
Ah, that feels better!
*This is an "open" list. That means you can add things to the list if you want. Simply post a reply and start with the next number on the list. Interactive art!
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