Song of the Minute: That’s What You Get by The Strangerspirits
I just wanted to share with everyone my new friend delilah. Seriously, it won’t take long, and you just have to trust me. You need real player, but otherwise, it’s super short. Really. :) Come on, it’s called "Prayer." What could go wrong? Sound helps but isn’t really necessary. Tell me if it wasn’t worth it.
love.
Song of the Hour: Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? Moby
Actually, I’ve been listening to "9th and Hennepin" by Tom Waits on repeat (yeah, yeah, I posted a song. how illegal is that?). This week has felt like that, days sliding by outside a train window,full of bitters and blue ruin. Really, I’m just writing until my Limewire downloads finish. Good to be honest.
Rather than bitching about school, or penguin-induced spiritual ennui; I think I’m going to take this moment to mommy out with a hopefully short, but poignant, Joss story.
I was putting him to bed last night, which is rare the last few months b/c I’m always off studying- but he took the opportunity to really catch up on every little video game discovery or overwhelming life question. Mostly he thought of inventive comparisons for how much he loves me (all the way to the sun and back, bigger than the milky way, etc. It’s this game we play. Anyway.) As you probably know, I hate spiders with adolescent passion. Joss is scared of werewolves. We go over this a few times a year. Our dialogue ran roughly as such:
"Mommy, what are you scared of?"
"I’m scared of you getting hurt. You getting lost. You getting upset–" he cuts me off.
"No, I mean, everyone’s scared of something. What are you scared of?"
"I just told you."
"No, like spiders…"
"Ok, I’m scared of you getting hurt, then I’m scared of spiders."
"You know what I’m scared of?"
"Yeah, you’re scared of werewolves."
"Yeah."
we pause for a moment, thinking. He continues.
"I know they’re not real, but sometimes when I’m alone upstairs I think there are monsters there."
"I know, sweetie. Lots of people are afraid of things that aren’t real."
"Like werewolves?"
"yeah, and other things. It’s okay."
another contemplative pause. I think of all the things I know I shouldn’t do. Most of all, treat his fears dismissively. I decide to take a different approach.
"Do you know what it means to be brave? To be courageous?"
"Yeah…"
"You know, like Harry Potter. He has to fight monsters sometimes, so he’s very brave?"
"Yeah…" He’s listening intently.
"Well being brave, and having courage, means you do things even though you’re afraid. So if you’re never afraid, you can never really be brave or courageous. right?"
"I guess…"
"Well, if you ever wanna be brave– you want to be brave, right?"
"Right."
"Well, you have to be scared first."
More moments of contemplation followed, before he changed the subject to my being adopted, and would I ever let him be adopted, and no, not for any of the enormous sums of moeny he hypothetically offered. The we played more of the "I love you more than ____" game.
He called me a little while ago. Our phone conversation ran as such:
"Hi sweety."
"Mom, I’m going to do it."
"Do what?"
"I’m going to do it. I’m going to be brave. Well, I’m going to try. I’m still scared, but I’m going to try to be brave and go upstairs. I wanted to tell you."
We talked for another minute or so, but my heart had so melted by that point I can’t really remember any of it. You know, I spend so much time trying to cram his little head full of morals and random factoids- it’s always in one ear and out the other, for the most part. But other times, little things like that happen that really blow my mind. He’s so amazing. That’s all, just amazing. I think I still have much to learn from the little padawan.
mommied out.
Song of the Minute: Hiroshima Mon Amour by The Church
I just wanted to take a moment to share with you my absolute love of Pandora. Pandora is a streaming radio site with bizarre "music genome project" hookups that make it relatively psychic. Just put in a couple of your favorite bands, and it finds similar music and plays it straight, free. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, check it out and see the beauty. If you do know, then email me your stations and keep me posted on what you’re listening to and like.
For the record, Nada Surf was awesome, and seeing Sara again was a breath of fresh air. Anne captured my baby girl nicely by saying "She’s so funny. She’s all neurotic and yet completely honest about it." Which is of course only a slice of my only love, but a good one.
I am so procrastinating right now… I have three books to read, and a midterm next week. What am I doing? writing to you people. That’s right. You. Because thoughts of you are a phantom distraction. Actually, I just read Suzy’s blog, and her overcapitalization is contagious. You are a Phantom Distraction. That’s better. You are far more interesting to me than Feminist Geography and Carmen Miranda. What can I say. Here’s the love.
Speaking of love, I offer you my sincerest happy VD, (Bonnie, I hate you. Look what I’m doing), and hope none of you spend a penny this week on anything red, shiny, floralistic, or chocolaty out of pure principle. My principles. Which should be your principles. Kerr Drug was putting candy and bears out like the day after Christmas. Don’t do it. Don’t succumb. Be strong. I don’t care how long you have or haven’t been together. Celebrate Love every day the other 364 days a year. Yeah, yeah, I’m done. Shut up.
"Beaches, Bananas, and Bases" is calling to me. If you’re ever interested in feminists stereotyping "men of power" circa 1989, this is the book for you. There are even pictures in it. God I wish I were kidding.
Enough. Open Pandora’s box. You won’t be disappointed.
Songs of the Hour: Leave the South by Nathan Asher and the Infantry
Where is my Mind, The Pixies
I stopped eating meat again today. My two month foray back into the world of the carniverous fizzled and died when I took a long look at the chinese takeout I was eating last night during Lost. Something about the collection of curried chicken, sauteed beef, and onioned pork all piled up in the styrofoam pushed me over the edge back into the greenery of the vegetarian plains. I suppose, nihilistic breakdown or no, that I’ll never really be able to eat meat again without thinking/smelling little Baldisarri Marx Ferlinghetti (aka little fetal piglet I dissected last semester. Something about entrails wrapped around a toothpick while dissecting a fetal testicle really left its mark on me. I smell him at the most random times…) So, here’s to my health.
For the record, thank you all for the fantastic gifts for the old birthday. I have a couple fantastic books I can’t wait to read (thank you andy, david) yet will have to wait unless I really want to commit myself to the previously refernced 2.0 GPA. The cell phone headset Brian gave me will maybe allow me to talk to Mr. Elvin while driving w/out him hanging up on me. Or maybe the rest of you without dying and crashing. one thing at a time.
You will also find, perhaps to your future dismay, that I got a digital camera from ‘martha’. I’ll warn you, for the next few months you’ll probably be bombarded with a ridiculous number of unimportant pictures, at least until the novelty of digitization wears off. Then I will be more selective. Until then, please feel free to peruse the bowling-with-Bonnie pics, and I think I’ll put up a couple of Joss for those of you who haven’t seen him in like 3-8 years. I think friendster has a no-kids-pix rule, so I’m only gonna leave them up for a few days. If any of your psychotic friends kidnap him because he’s so damn adorable, I’ll be finding you and payment will be extracted. In that Merchant of Venice kind of way. And FYI, he weighs like 82 pounds. So. Be warned.
You know, I’m in that phase where I really wish I had something important to say. But really, I don’t. I’m overwhelmed with school work, waaaayyyy behind, have ridiculous projects due, and am so sleep deprived I’ve started crying for no real reason while stuck in traffic. It doesn’t make sense, really. I don’t mind traffic. I get to sit still for a minute. What’s not to love about that? I don’t know… I don’t understand.
I have however managed to commit myself to fun social things. (UNC be damned. No, really, be damned.) Ms. Sara in the west tomorrow, Nada Surf tomorrow tonight, Nathan Asher next week, and I really want to catch "Salome" the opera sometime in the next month. Not to mention seeing Ms. Suzanne’s fabulous set work for "The Dead" in a couple weeks. I’m trying to see it as "finding my priorities" rather than "giving up on scholastic pursuits". Isn’t that what all the good stories are about? Finding out that loved ones are what’s important, not these superficial definitions of success like grades and money and careers? Can’t this be a good thing? Can’t I be that guy in the story? (seeking affirmation here, help me out.)
I need to cram in some Cognitive Science homework before The Office comes on. I have to say, Cognitive Science is one of the most fascinating classes I’ve ever taken. A lot of it is about artificial neural networks, AI’s and parallel processors vs sequential processors (like normal computers) as models for human thought patterns and calculations. Which is obviously way over my head. The rest is linguistics and psychology and lanuguage acquisition and logic which I’m ok with. But the cross-disciplinary approach to human thought is captivating, and kind of the field I’ve always dreamed of. I dunno. There might be a future in it. There’s something about Wittgenstein and symbolism and universal metaphors tucked in there in a way I can’t quite put my finger on… but when I do I’m going to be a happy fucking camper. I’ll take a picture of it and share. post. Screw the homework, I have to demonstrate Joss’ adorability now. Check the album if you’re interested, like I said, they’ll be gone in a few days.
till then,
love.
