seven random shingly things

1. I always thought shingles was an old-lady disease, on account of the fact that the only person I ever knew who had it was my grandmother. Turns out LOTS of people I know have had it! And they're not old.

2. Because I have shingles, chemo has been postponed AGAIN!

3. Tomorrow should have been my last round, number 12, if all had gone as planned. But because of all the delays (neuropathy, liver functions, low WBC, and now shingles) I still have three left. That's six more weeks.

4. They hurt. Kind of like having a knife jabbed into your back.

5. I'm banned from hot springs and swimming pools, two of my most favorite places.

6. I don't really even care anymore about chemo being postponed, or not being able to soak at Mt. Princeton. I'm not sure if that means I'm less depressed, or more depressed.

7. I am learning to live beyond "should have" and "as planned".

number musings

A friend and I have made a pact to live until the year 2049.

In 2049, I will be 82.

I am 41 now, which is 50% of 82.

I am half-way through chemo. Six-twelfths. 50%.

My husband just celebrated his 50th birthday. One of his friends called it, in youngster-hip-speech, "Fiddy".

My mother-in-law's nickname is "Phiddy". She is 82 right now.

According to the computer-calculated data, I have an 82% chance of living 10 years.

Forty-two and seven-twelfths..... here I come!

song shuffle

I think this little game was invented by someone at least 20 years younger than me, but still, I think it's going to be fun. I first read Kate's answers many months ago, and at that time I thought to myself, "Hmm... I think I'd like to do that someday." Many things have come to pass between then and now, but the song shuffle has always been in the back of my mind. Now its time has come.

I love the way randomness often reveals truths. Or at least gives us another lense with which to see ourselves. Or makes absolutely no sense at all. Kind of like Tarot or Astrology or a Magic 8 Ball.

The way this works: Hit "shuffle" on your iPod, and the names of the songs as they fall in the random sequence are the answers to the questions. Here goes.......

1. How would you describe yourself?
Che Doce Simpatia.... Ecco Megl'orti Tuoi (Cecilia Bartolli)

Well, I guess what this means is that I don't really, even yet, understand myself! I'm still working on the translation.
Simpatia...... sympathy according to the translation site I just consulted. That makes sense. I seem to be sympathetic to the whole world.

2. What do you like in a guy / girl?
Vigilante Man (Burns Sisters)

Hmmmmmm...... perhaps I do like to be looked after much more than I would ever freely admit.

3. What is your motto?
Paper Kitten Nightmare (Margot & the Nuclear So and So's)

Now those are some absurdist words to live by. Perhaps I should make them my motto.

4. What do your friends think of you?
In the Garden (Dolores O'Riorden)

Not sure about this one. I keep thinking of biblical gardens (I can't help it, I was a religious studies major) ...... Eden....... Gethsemane...... they weren't exactly conducive to friendship now, were they? How about the garden in my backyard, then, where everyone is welcome.........

5. What do you think about often?
On a Freezing Chicago Street (Margot & the Nuclear So and So's)

Yeah, that's me..... just daydreaming away about being cold and lost in an unfamiliar city.

..... Actually, now that I think about it, being lost in unfamiliar places really IS something I daydream about. It's the cold part I can't quite handle.

6. What do your parents think of you?
Your Heart is an Empty Room (Death Cab for Cutie)

Well, my mom's dead, and I'm pretty sure she never would have said this about me. My dad, however, might very well try to enlighten me with some sort of wise saying that has this phrase in it.

7. What do you think of your best friend?
Cannonball (Damien Rice)

No idea.

8. What do you think of the person you like?
Different Names for the Same Thing (Death Cab for Cutie)

Hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!! Over and over and over again.

9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Sleep Don't Weep (Damien Rice)

A good night's sleep would be most welcome.

10. What do you think when you see a person you like?
Lascia La Spina, Cogli La Rosa (Cecilia Bartolli)

I will tell you that listening to this song will tear your heart into a million little pieces.....

11. What song will they play at your wedding?
What I Be (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

Well, my wedding is now nearly 13 years in the past. I will say, however, that what is quintessentially ME was all over that ceremony, from the juggling to the candlelighting to the vow writing and reading to the contradancing.

12. What will they play at your funeral?
Now That You're Gone (Ryan Adams)

That's what turned up. I swear.

13. What is your hobby / interest?
Tell Me You're Alive (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

Interesting............ I have this "pillow" hanging in my bedroom made by my friend Marina. Painted in neon yellow letters is the word "ALIVE". She left it on my porch before moving to Brooklyn. Alive is one of my favorite words. I look at it every morning when I wake up. Most times, Alive is enough. Sometimes Alive is even more than we can handle. How dare we demand more?

14. What is your biggest fear?
I Found It (Klayton Kendall)

We search our whole life for "It". If we actually found it, then what would be the purpose of life? And having no purpose in life is my greatest fear.

15. What is your biggest secret?
We Used to Vacation (Cold War Kids)

Now this is NO secret at all! Of course we used to vacation. Before we had kids and were poor and settled in jobs and had a mortgage and ..........

16. What do you think of your friends?
Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine (John Prine and another guy named Mac)

This sort of paints a picture of hanging out with folks on the patio, or in the backyard of a summer eve. Yeah.

17. What is your theme song?
Punch and Judy (Elliott Smith)

Yes! This is the best one so far. "Huzzah, huzzah! I killed the Devil!"

18. What do you think of your family?
Blossom (Cold Roses)

Corny. But, really, what do our children do but blossom right before our eyes?

19. What is your best friend's theme song?
Yes, I Will (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

My husband has said, I don't know how many times, that he will be here, for me, for the boys, no matter what. Yes, he will.

20. What is your mood right now?
Crow Waltz (The Be Good Tanyas)

Waltzing. I love waltzing! I've waltzed three times in the past week. It makes me all happy inside.

21. If your heart could talk, what would it say?
What Sarah Said (Death Cab for Cutie)

Sara (no h) knows my heart about as well as I.

22. What do your co-workers think of you?
God's Promise (Burns Sisters)

Depends on your idea of "God" I suppose.

23. What does your future look like?
Brothers on a Hotel Bed (Death Cab for Cutie)

Um.... sounds fun, but...... I don't think so. Let's try that one again, shall we?

Streetwalker (Delta Spirit)

Uh, no, don't think that's it either. One more time.

You Can Close Your Eyes (James Taylor)

Ok, that's more like it.

song shuffle

I think this little game was invented by someone at least 20 years younger than me, but still, it was fun. I first read Kate's answers many months ago, and at that time I thought to myself, "Hmm... I think I'd like to do that someday." Many things have come to pass between then and now, but the song shuffle has always been in the back of my mind. Now its time has come.

I love the way randomness often reveals truths. Or at least gives us another lense with which to see the world. Or makes absolutely no sense at all. Kind of like Tarot. Or Astrology.

The way this works: Hit "shuffle" on your iPod, and the names of the songs as they fall in the random sequence are the answers to the questions. Here goes.......

1. How would you describe yourself?
Che Doce Simpatia.... Ecco Megl'orti Tuoi (Cecilia Bartolli)
Well, I guess what this means is that I don't really, even yet, understand myself! I'm still working on the translation.
Simpatia...... sympathy according to the translation site I just consulted. That makes sense. I seem to be sympathetic to the whole world.

2. What do you like in a guy / girl?
Vigilante Man (Burns Sisters)

Hmmmmmm...... perhaps I do like to be looked after much more than I would ever freely admit.

3. What is your motto?
Paper Kitten Nightmare (Margot & the Nuclear So and So's)

Now those are some absurdist words to live by. Perhaps I should make them my motto.

4. What do your friends think of you?
In the Garden (Dolores O'Riorden)

Not sure about this one. I keep thinking of biblical gardens (I can't help it, I was a religious studies major) ...... Eden....... Gethsemane...... they weren't exactly conducive to friendship now, were they? How about the garden in my backyard, then, where everyone is welcome.........

5. What do you think about often?
On a Freezing Chicago Street (Margot & the Nuclear So and So's)

Yeah, that's me..... just daydreaming away about being cold and lost in an unfamiliar city.

6. What do your parents think of you?
Your Heart is an Empty Room (Death Cab for Cutie)

Well, my mom's dead, and I'm pretty sure she never would have said this about me. My dad, however, might very well try to enlighten me with some sort of wise saying that has this phrase in it.

7. What do you think of your best friend?
Cannonball (Damien Rice)

No idea.

8. What do you think of the person you like?
Different Names for the Same Thing (Death Cab for Cutie)

Hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!! Over and over and over again.

9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Sleep Don't Weep (Damien Rice)

A good night's sleep would be most welcome.

10. What do you think when you see a person you like?
Lascia La Spina, Cogli La Rosa (Cecilia Bartolli)

I will tell you that listening to this song will tear your heart into a million little pieces.....

11. What song will they play at your wedding?
What I Be (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

Well, my wedding is now nearly 13 years in the past. I will say, however, that what is quintessentially ME was all over that ceremony, from the juggling to the candlelighting to the vow writing and reading to the contradancing.

12. What will they play at your funeral?
Now That You're Gone (Ryan Adams)

That's what turned up. I swear.

13. What is your hobby / interest?
Tell Me You're Alive (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

Interesting............ I have this "pillow" hanging in my bedroom made by my friend Marina. Painted in neon yellow letters is the word "ALIVE". She left it on my porch before moving to Brooklyn. Alive is one of my favorite words. I look at it every morning when I wake up. Sometimes Alive is even more than we can handle. And most times, Alive is enough. How dare we demand more?

14. What is your biggest fear?
I Found It (Klayton Kendall)

We search our whole life for "It". If we actually found it, then what would be the purpose of life? And having no purpose in life is my greatest fear.

15. What is your biggest secret?
We Used to Vacation (Cold War Kids)

Now this is NO secret at all! Of course we used to vacation. Before we had kids and were poor and settled in jobs and had a mortgage and ..........

16. What do you think of your friends?
Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine (John Prine and another guy named Mac)

This sort of paints a picture of hanging out with folks on the patio, or in the backyard of a summer eve. Yeah.

17. What is your theme song?
Punch and Judy (Elliott Smith)

Yes! This is the best one so far. "Huzzah, huzzah! I killed the Devil!"

18. What do you think of your family?
Blossom (Cold Roses)

Corny. But, really, what do our children do but blossom right before our eyes?

19. What is your best friend's theme song?
Yes, I Will (Michael Franti and Spearhead)

My husband has said, I don't know how many times, that he will be here, for me, for the boys, no matter what. Yes, he will.

20. What is your mood right now?
Crow Waltz (The Be Good Tanyas)

Waltzing. I love waltzing! I've waltzed three times in the past week. It makes me all happy inside.

21. If your heart could talk, what would it say?
What Sarah Said (Death Cab for Cutie)

Sara (no h) knows my heart about as well as I.

22. What do your co-workers think of you?
God's Promise (Burns Sisters)

Depends on your idea of "God" I suppose.

23. What does your future look like?
Brothers on a Hotel Bed (Death Cab for Cutie)

Um.... sounds fun, but...... I don't think so. Let's try that one again, shall we?

Streetwalker (Delta Spirit)

Uh, no, don't think that's it either. One more time.

You Can Close Your Eyes (James Taylor)

Ok, that's more like it.

upon waking

I awoke from one of those naps today, you know the kind, where you don't know where you are, who you are, or what time of day it is. The light is slanty and it could be morning or evening or afternoon. You come of out of a dream about people you love, only to realize, slowly, that they're not there with you. Disoriented, drugged, and heavy, you finally come to after a few minutes, and jump up because you suddenly remember who you are and that you have to pick the kids up from school at 2:30. You look at the clock. It's 2:20. You marvel at the fact that you have just slept for nearly two hours, and stumble out the door to your car.

mid-life defined

When "all the time in the world" suddenly becomes "never enough".

-me

on being chosen

As a young girl of about seven or eight, I loved browsing through the Illustrated Children’s Bible in the waiting room when I went to get my weekly allergy shot. One picture I remember vividly: a darkened room, a boy in his bed, and a glowing Jesus standing in the middle of the room, arms outstretched. The boy was peering out from under the covers at Jesus, slightly afraid, or perhaps in awe. I never bothered to read the story on the page opposite the illustration; all I knew was that I wanted Jesus to come into my room like that. I wouldn't be afraid. I would crawl into his welcoming arms and rest there awhile, knowing he came just for me. I had faith, but I needed proof. I didn’t know then that faith was what you had when you didn’t need any proof.

At night, I would wait for Jesus under my pink gingham sheets. I would whisper under the covers, “Jesus, if you are really real, you will come into my room this night.” (I tried hard not to sound demanding or desperate or doubtful, but it never worked). I prayed. I made deals. I begged. Night after night. He never showed. I was raised to believe in miracles: Lazarus, loaves and fishes, the meek inheriting the earth (ok, this one hasn't happened yet, but I believed, and still believe, it will). I fully expected one to happen to me. I'd like to say that this was where my doubt in religion began. I'd like to say I was one of those wise-beyond-her-years characters in a novel. But instead of doubting Jesus, I doubted my own power to make him show up. As if making Jesus appear in my bedroom at night were actually something I had any control over!

The conclusion I drew was a sad one: obviously, I was not good enough, not pure enough, not worthy enough, for Jesus to come into my room at night.

About this same time, I saw the movie Escape to Witch Mountain. That's it! I was to be chosen not by Jesus, but by Magic. I had abilities far superior than the average child! I was a witch! I just knew I could make those sturdy books fly across the room and into my hands with sheer willpower. And so I sat on the sofa and stared across the living room at our bookshelves. Day after day, I applied myself to my new task. I concentrated. I focused. I almost passed out. Sometimes I swear I saw a book jiggle a little, especially the ones on the top shelf, but nothing ever came of it. And my doubt in my own power grew. Because I still believed in Magic.

I wonder how many kids today lie awake at night on the eve of their 11th birthday, waiting expectantly for an owl to show up.

Next it was the extraterrestrials. Fed by Close Encounters of the Third Kind and ET, my mind raced with the idea that aliens, surely, would see my desperate plight. During warm summer nights, my mother would let my brother and I sleep in the backyard under the stars. Staring up at the night sky, I waited for friendly aliens to come and carry me away to another, better place. I sent frantic, telepathic messages into the worlds beyond... Pick ME! Choose ME! I had no fear of them, just as I had no fear of a strange glowing man in my room at night. I knew they would come for me. I was special.

You know the ending.

Eventually, fundamentalist Christianity came along. Picture, if you will, a 13-year-old girl in the throes of puberty, lost in a spinning dance outdoors at the Jesus Northwest Festival. Somewhere in the middle of that crowded field, I met the holy spirit face-to-face (it was red, all red), fell on the grass, and, to this day, still don't know whether I laughed or wept. I hadn’t been chosen by Jesus or Magic or Aliens, but by God Himself! I’m still not exactly sure what happened to me that evening, but I do know that my body was aroused, my mind was open, the music was loud, and I felt, for the first time in my life, unconditional love.

I gave up on organized religion shortly thereafter, realizing hypocrisy at the ripe old age of 15 or so. At least I can say my foray into the born-again realm was short-lived. But the intensity of that evening has never left me. I have recreated it at other times in my life, with Dead shows or drugs or dancing or sex, but nothing has ever come close to that first time.

People who don’t understand evangelicals have never had this kind of experience, I would presume. They dismiss with disgust the swaying worshippers in New Life with their hypnotic music, hands in the air. I don’t laugh at them because I understand their desperate need to belong, to know someone loves them, to be chosen.

The thing about fundamentalists of all religions is that they KNOW they are chosen, and there is something powerful and soothing in that. And terribly, terribly frightening. If you believe you are chosen, you have all things instantly: faith, purpose, meaning, and all the right answers.

All this leads me to my own young children at this time of year, so willing to believe in Santa. Santa tells you that you are special... he reads YOUR letters, comes to YOUR house, knows just what YOU want. He feeds an ancient, holy, human need. For my older one, it is almost a desperate need. It seems as if he is clinging to his faith in Santa, even though he knows the truth already.

Younger: “I don't get it, I mean how do the reindeer actually FLY? And how does Santa get EVERYWHERE in one night with all those presents?"
Older: “Duh!.... MAGIC!” This one, he has all the answers. No questions asked. He believes fervently in dragons, ghosts, monsters, and magic. He believes all movies are real, no matter what we tell him to the contrary. He would believe in God so easily, if we just let him.

What I feel compelled to do now, more than anything, is to let people (my children, my students, random strangers on the street, my beloved few readers....) know that they are chosen. Maybe not for something great, but at least for something important. Something good, with meaning, that is ultimately larger than themselves. We cannot hope or pray or wish or will things into existence. We cannot make others come to us. We may have been abandoned, or we may just feel abandoned, but we can choose as well as be chosen. With this knowledge, comes power.

And what I know so deeply and painfully in my heart is this: If we don't let our kids know each and every fucking day of the year that we CHOSE them, that we love them NO MATTER WHAT, then SOMETHING ELSE WILL! It might be fundamentalist religion or a sexual predator or the wrong kid at the wrong time or shopping or addiction. Because to feel powerless and unloved in this world will make you a victim.

“Pick ME! Choose ME! Love ME!” Meredith pleads, begs, wails to McDreamy somewhere during the second (or third?) season of Grey’s Anatomy. Because it sucks not to be the chosen one.

seven more things

Today, instead of feeling grateful, I'm pondering all the things I am NOT, and wish that I were. I'm sick of all the "be proud of who you are" rhetoric. Maybe I've been watching too many Disney movies or something, but we can't all be the self-possessed hero. I just want a moment to wallow. Thanks.

Sometimes I wish.......

1. that I liked mussels and mushrooms instead of mac&cheese and milk.
2. being late didn't make me anxious.
3. the fear of feeling left out would leave me.
4. an idea for a really great story would just pop into my head.
5. that I wasn't so attached to this world-that I could take everything less seriously.
6. that I could recognize a D or a C# or an F when I heard it.
7. crying wasn't such an automatic response - it would be so nice sometimes to have a harder shell.

ode to oregon

Two days ago, I was only a few miles from here, but I chose to go here instead. With my brother. So many memories. His. Mine. Ours. Memories of being born again, huckleberry pancakes, unknown daughters, skinny dipping, sore feet, speared trout, freedom, fire, good pot....

It's scary, really, how big the world is there, with life dying right before your eyes, and death making a bridge, a carpet, a path, a home. If I counted all the cells in the forest, I wondered, would the balance come out in favor of life or death? It's complicated. Consider the tree:
center heartwood - dead
middle sapwood-alive
outer bark - dead

Shall we have a reading, then?
How about something from the diary of Opal Whiteley?

From Opal: The Journal of an Understanding Heart

I heard the mama calling.
She did send me in a hurry to the woodshed.
She wanted two loads of wood.
The first load I brought in a hurry.
The second load I brought not so.
I did pick up all the sticks my arms could hold.

I looked long looks at them.
I did have thinks about the tree
they all were before they got chopped up.
I did wonder how I would feel
if I was a very little piece of wood
that got chopped out of a very big tree.
I did think that it would have hurt my feelings.
I felt the feelings of the wood.
They did have a very sad feel.

thoughts on harry p. 1-401

I certainly would not want to presume to have any anything original or enlightening to say about Harry Potter. I'm the one who has to keep asking my husband for clarification about events/names/spells in the past six books, since my memory for details has always been hazy. He fills me in, as does my 8-year-old son who just finished Order of the Phoenix , when I ask them if they remember what a Squib is, or just what, exactly, the Fidelius Charm does. Heck, I just now made the connection that Sirius Black's animagus form was a dog! I know, you're thinking, she really doesn't have any authority whatsoever to speak about the adventures of the Boy Who Lived. Undesirable Number One. But as I've been reading Deathly Hallows, and thinking about kids all over the world reading it, I have begun to feel a bit hopeful about the future. I know how influential a story can be when you're 12. The pre-pubescents and adolescents may not get it now, but the seeds are being planted somewhere deep inside of them, and will reveal themselves later on by the choices they make, the beliefs they hold, the values they cherish. These are the things I like to think they will remember:
1. Always take umbrage at the Umbridges of the world.
2. Never trust what the Prophets say.
3. Tattoo also means a constant drumming sound.
4. When evil finally takes over all our trusted institutions, you will be standing outside feeling very, very alone. This is normal.
5. Latin is a cool language.
6 People with Power lie.
7. There really is a place apart from the known world.

funny sad things

deflated balloons in dark alleys
a moment worth capturing and no camera
addictions
locked doors
how long will it take me to get my GED?
inability to see shadows because you're standing in the way
you have no friends
7 is enough

grany's dethday...

is what my 8-year-old son Grant wrote in the August 2nd square on the calendar hanging on our kitchen wall. At least he got the apostrophe right anyway. He's been reading the Harry Potter series furiously, and has gotten through books two and three in the past week (having read The Sorcerer's Stone a year ago), and is at my feet presently with The Goblet of Fire. He reminded me that Nearly Headless Nick had a "deathday party" with rotten food and raucous ghostly guests and musicians playing "not even real music".

He then most wisely informed me that in death years, Granny is only one year old! I'm wondering now if all our living years are like the negative numbers on the number line, and when we hit death, it's ground zero, and then the years we are no longer among the living can be counted into infinity. Or at least as long as there is someone left to count. Nearly Headless Nick was celebrating his 500th deathday. We will be dead for so many more years than we are alive.....