I am not seeing the point of this blog any more. When I started it, I was unemployed and starting off on a road trip. It has spanned a lot of my life. But now I am employed and not on a road trip and I am fucking bored out of my mind. And riddled with angst and ennui.
Now I blog (aka write) about books I read, movies I see, random stuff. It has no point. Who cares, really?
This is a "heads up." I will continue to write here but I can't tell you how often or about what. When I read a good book or see a good movie or eat a good meal or have a good conversation, I might write about it. I might not.
This Friday there was a dedication at Westmoor High School in Daly City for some picnic benches. They, and the area in which they are situated, were dedicated to my friend Martha who was killed two years ago. She taught at Westmoor and was the Vice Principal there for more than 20 years before she went on to work at the Superintendent's Office. It was a lovely ceremony, thanks to her good friend Emily. People spoke, some students sang, there was a nice crowd of teachers and students gathered for it.
It made me cry, again, for the loss of Martha. It makes me cry right now. Why do some people get killed and some people get to live on and on, past their expiration date? (Rhetorical question, no answer required.) Grief just goes on and on. Ask my brother Steve about that. Ask anyone who has lost a friend, lover, sister, brother, child. Grief has no expiration date. It simply flows, like water, on and on. Into the blue again. "Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down."
Move on. Yes. Moving on. However, the level of impatience I feel about everything makes it, simultaneously, impossible to move on and imperative that I move on. But the level of angst (for lack of a better word) that I feel about everything right now holds me hostage. And that list, the "everything" seems too daunting to discuss right now.
I have nothing else to say right now.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Sunday, August 10, 2014
August 10: A Whirlwind is Born
After talking to John, I was tempted to retitle this post "The Birth of a Ferrari" but decided to leave it as it is.
Forty one years ago John and I welcomed, with trepidation, our daughter into the world. She came easily into this world, dark haired, squishy faced and she had a lusty, loud cry. A week or so into the world her squishy face turned beautiful and Jennifer was a beautiful baby and a beautiful girl. She is now a beautiful woman.
Jennifer was a bit "out of the box" from the beginning. At the age of 18 months she would take everything off her toy shelf and reorganize it. She started Montessori school when she was about 2 1/2 years old and was reading within a year. At her fourth birthday party, she read all her birthday cards out loud to the kids who were impatiently waiting for cake. When she was about six, John and I were a little nervous about her obvious intelligence. We had some intelligence tests done, just to reassure ourselves she wasn't THAT smart. She aced the tests.
Ups and downs. Highs and lows. Yin and yang. Good and bad. Contradictions defined Jennifer then and they define her now. After forty one years, little about her surprises me except her continuous stream of energy. And her incredible organizational skills. And her talents. And her kindness and her temper. And her love and loyalty. And so much more, now that I think about it. Never a dull moment with that girl, that's for sure. It's a whirlwind, all the time. (Well, except when we are sitting on the couch, dogs on our laps, watching some random TV show. Cool dullness, yes!)
Jennifer doesn't read this blog, but if she did she would read that I love her more today than ever and I admire her more than ever as well. She confounds me but she comforts me, too. She can make me swear and purr at the same time. How she does that, I do not know.
Forty one years. 41 is a prime number. I hope it's a prime year for her.
Happy Birthday, beautiful girl! Know your Momma loves you. And your Daddy does too. And so many more.....
LTBT.
.
Forty one years ago John and I welcomed, with trepidation, our daughter into the world. She came easily into this world, dark haired, squishy faced and she had a lusty, loud cry. A week or so into the world her squishy face turned beautiful and Jennifer was a beautiful baby and a beautiful girl. She is now a beautiful woman.
Jennifer was a bit "out of the box" from the beginning. At the age of 18 months she would take everything off her toy shelf and reorganize it. She started Montessori school when she was about 2 1/2 years old and was reading within a year. At her fourth birthday party, she read all her birthday cards out loud to the kids who were impatiently waiting for cake. When she was about six, John and I were a little nervous about her obvious intelligence. We had some intelligence tests done, just to reassure ourselves she wasn't THAT smart. She aced the tests.
Ups and downs. Highs and lows. Yin and yang. Good and bad. Contradictions defined Jennifer then and they define her now. After forty one years, little about her surprises me except her continuous stream of energy. And her incredible organizational skills. And her talents. And her kindness and her temper. And her love and loyalty. And so much more, now that I think about it. Never a dull moment with that girl, that's for sure. It's a whirlwind, all the time. (Well, except when we are sitting on the couch, dogs on our laps, watching some random TV show. Cool dullness, yes!)
Jennifer doesn't read this blog, but if she did she would read that I love her more today than ever and I admire her more than ever as well. She confounds me but she comforts me, too. She can make me swear and purr at the same time. How she does that, I do not know.
Forty one years. 41 is a prime number. I hope it's a prime year for her.
Happy Birthday, beautiful girl! Know your Momma loves you. And your Daddy does too. And so many more.....
LTBT.
.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
My Summer Reading List, So Far
Yes, I know a blog about books is a cop-out but it's all I got right now. Other than the huge angst that is my mind-set right now, the huge desire to just get in the car and keep driving, the huge need to plan a vacation that won't happen for at least four months, the huge longing for something other than this "how can I make you happy" job I currently have, this huge want that seems to thrum inside me all of the time. Other than all those things, it's all I got right now.
But books are my hiding place. Books demand nothing of me. They don't care if I read them or not. They do not ask where to eat or where to drink or crab at me about their credit card woes. Books just are. Books are my safety. Others have friends, exercise, diet, music, art, drugs. I have books. Like Mavis Staples says, to paraphrase: They take me there.
I come home, I strip off my work clothes, (which are jeans and a shirt,) and put on anything else so that I feel apart from my job. And then I either walk the dogs or simply sit down and read. Sometimes I fall asleep, napping, sitting up, for 15 minutes, but that's fine. I nap and I keep reading. The dogs sit on the couch with me and give me that space. I read and I am no longer working and no longer a tool for someones vacation enjoyment. I read and I learn or escape or just enjoy the writing. Enjoy the craft.
Here are some books I have read this summer. I have read many more that I haven't included, these are the best of the bunch. So far.
Books: Fourth of July Creek by Smith Henderson.
We Are Called To Rise by Laura McBride
Cuckoo's Calling and Silkworm by Robert Galbraith, a pseudonym of J. K. Rowling.
The Circle by Dave Eggers. (If you haven't read Zeitoun from a couple of years ago, shame on you.)
Shotgun Lovesongs by Nickolas Butler
Ordinary Grace by William Kent Krueger
The Possibilities by Kaui Hart Hemmings
Edge of Dark Water by Lansdale
OK, that should get you started. (More will follow.) All were really good or I would not have recommended them. I got all of them out of the library, although some might be a long wait. I read book reviews like many people read their emails so I get a 'heads up' about books before they are even in the NY Times book review section. Not that it makes me better, it just makes me quicker to read some new books. Thus my wait for these books was short. But still, they are all really good. Find them. They are all worth waiting for. I didn't include any synopsis, you can find that online if you want.
Without books, without the other world they provide, I don't know how I would think. My silly brain jumps all over the place all the time. Reading grounds me. It makes my mind sit still and think. For that fact alone, I am grateful to all those authors who labored over their words. I don't labor reading their words, I revel in their words. I am happy and my silly mind is happy and that's all that matters.
Think. Read.
Read. Think.
It's a good combo.
.
But books are my hiding place. Books demand nothing of me. They don't care if I read them or not. They do not ask where to eat or where to drink or crab at me about their credit card woes. Books just are. Books are my safety. Others have friends, exercise, diet, music, art, drugs. I have books. Like Mavis Staples says, to paraphrase: They take me there.
I come home, I strip off my work clothes, (which are jeans and a shirt,) and put on anything else so that I feel apart from my job. And then I either walk the dogs or simply sit down and read. Sometimes I fall asleep, napping, sitting up, for 15 minutes, but that's fine. I nap and I keep reading. The dogs sit on the couch with me and give me that space. I read and I am no longer working and no longer a tool for someones vacation enjoyment. I read and I learn or escape or just enjoy the writing. Enjoy the craft.
Here are some books I have read this summer. I have read many more that I haven't included, these are the best of the bunch. So far.
Books: Fourth of July Creek by Smith Henderson.
We Are Called To Rise by Laura McBride
Cuckoo's Calling and Silkworm by Robert Galbraith, a pseudonym of J. K. Rowling.
The Circle by Dave Eggers. (If you haven't read Zeitoun from a couple of years ago, shame on you.)
Shotgun Lovesongs by Nickolas Butler
Ordinary Grace by William Kent Krueger
The Possibilities by Kaui Hart Hemmings
Edge of Dark Water by Lansdale
OK, that should get you started. (More will follow.) All were really good or I would not have recommended them. I got all of them out of the library, although some might be a long wait. I read book reviews like many people read their emails so I get a 'heads up' about books before they are even in the NY Times book review section. Not that it makes me better, it just makes me quicker to read some new books. Thus my wait for these books was short. But still, they are all really good. Find them. They are all worth waiting for. I didn't include any synopsis, you can find that online if you want.
Without books, without the other world they provide, I don't know how I would think. My silly brain jumps all over the place all the time. Reading grounds me. It makes my mind sit still and think. For that fact alone, I am grateful to all those authors who labored over their words. I don't labor reading their words, I revel in their words. I am happy and my silly mind is happy and that's all that matters.
Think. Read.
Read. Think.
It's a good combo.
.
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