11.28.2002
happy
thanksgiving!
20 things I am thankful for:
1. the boy
2. my family (both mine and the boy's) and my friends, both near and far, who support me and believe in me
3. the lover kitty
4. having a great job that I am excited about doing--and being successful in the doing of it
5. the things I'm learning in class
6. that classes are almost done for the semester
7. poetry
8. having a beautiful apartment
9. that I'm engaged to the most amazing boy
10. that Lord of the Rings Two Towers comes out soon
11. the boy
12. that we can put xmas decorations up this weekend
13. that the snow is off the roads but looks glorious on the houses, in the crooks of the trees, covering lawns
14. that we discovered netflix
15. pumpkin cheesecake
16. a yummy smelling pheasant dinner with the boy
17. that the Artist's Way and morning pages have changed me for the better
18. that we have a fireplace to not only keep us toasty but to smell wonderful and create holiday ambiance
19. mmmm port
20. snuggling on the red leather couch in front of the fire watching movies with my two favorite boys...joe and the kitty
3:02 PM | link | up| archives |
11.27.2002
things that really
please me:
~first beautifully silent layering of cold white on the world
~not having to drive in the beautiful layer of white which turns into mess and muck on the roads
~being nearly done with my group work in class
~new poetry books: Best American Poetry 2002, Denise Levertov ~ Poems 1972-1982, AGNI 56 30th Anniversary Poetry Anthology. The latter is on loan but it is chock full of goodness.
~Thanksgiving with the boy--decided on pheasant instead of turkey
~being able to sleep in for four days straight
9:35 AM | link | up| archives |
11.25.2002
times have changed
I remember when this company was one of the darlings of the dot.com arena and one of the biggest competitors to former employer Event Zero (now defunct). I was listening to NPR this morning and they had several people on that were talking about how the recession is ending and that the only reason our economy is slow is that businesses are afraid (especially in light of the impending war) to begin the hiring process. I know that in my hiring process of bringing someone on board the team it was very difficult...so many overqualified, unemployed people nearly begging for jobs. Every person that sat in my office said the words "I need a job, " some more unabashedly than others. Then there was the clear hurt and anger from some candidates when they weren't selected (for the most part because they were overqualified). It's a tough spot to be in. Sure it would be great to hire someone overqualified but then what do we do when the recession DOES turn around and they see a job more attractive in salary and proximity (Salem is a pain to drive to if you are from Boston)? Or how will it be to manage someone who was previously a Vice President at their last job? Sorry...I am liking what I'm doing and the last thing on earth I would do would be to hire someone who might be pushing me out in the months to come. It's a situation very unlike other hirings I've done and thankfully, I'm glad that the candidate is chosen and now I can breathe easy.
9:21 AM | link | up| archives |
11.20.2002
i find that
i'm midly disturbed by The Bachelor. I watch so little television that somehow this escaped me--and of course, I walked right into the 2 hour finale. And the worst part? I've been riveted. Sure, these are gorgeous, hand-picked, well-to-do people (Daddy owns banks and at 28 the kid is a VP--wait, everyone is a VP at a bank, I forgot) but the kicker is that these people are likeable. It's a freaky concept...they have only known each other for a matter of weeks (and he went through 25 women to get down to two) and now he has to decide who to marry. You can tell that he is feeling highly stressed about it...nothing like national TV to add a little pressure to it all. I think it's sad...I can't imagine how "real" they are being knowing that the cameras are always rolling--you are always "on" and how real can someone be in a situation like that, knowing that your family, your friends, your co-workers, your ex-boyfriends are all watching? If he does marry one of them--how long will it last? Call me VERY skeptical.
10:15 PM | link | up| archives |
in case
you need to know how to cook a turkey.
6:00 PM | link | up| archives |
11.18.2002
excrement
was the subject of one poem that Maxine Kumin read this evening at the Cambridge Adult Education Center. She wore a pair of wonderful earrings made from Scrabble tiles. She read from her most recent book, The Long Marriage, as well as a few selections from previous volumes. She was funny, she was serious, and overall, she was captivating. It was a real treat to be able to hear her read...her specificity of words, her love of nature, of literature and of life shine through with every word. She began with a poem called Purgatory, which is a witty sonnet about what if Romeo and Juliet was a comedy not a tragedy. One of the poems she ended with was a poem about Anne Sexton, written from notes she found 25 years later, of dreams she had written down in the days after her friend died. It was very dark, very touching.
Margo Stever, the founder of the Hudson Valley Writer's Center in Sleepy Hollow, NY, also read. I hadn't heard of her before, but was pleased that I had the chance to hear her read and to pick up her first published book of poems, Frozen Spring. She read several nature poems that I really loved, one in particular called The Loon. What I really loved about hearing both poets was hearing about the poems themselves...what they meant, or how they were inspired.
Also picked up a collected poems of Czeslaw Milosz who I especially love. Oh, and a gorgeous, yummy chocolate penguin from Burdick found its way into my hands.
11:01 PM | link | up| archives |
11.17.2002
i always
find it curious that when I post poetry on the main page, few people ever comment on it. I'm unsure what that means--I think it could mean the following:
1. It's crap.
2. People don't feel "qualified" to comment on poetry in general.
3. People don't understand it so don't know what to say.
4. It doesn't connect to the person reading it.
5. The person reading it doesn't "like" poetry.
6. The person reading it thinks it might have potential but they have comments they aren't sure if I would take well.
I'm interested in this phenomenon--the lack of commenting on poetry. Up until 1st or 2nd grade, children love poetry. They love how the words connect, how they make them feel. After that, when poetry is "taught," children learn that explication is complicated, confusing and that it would be much more interesting to read Harry Potter (for my generation it was Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret). After that point, children begin to steer away from poetry because it somehow becomes confusing...they feel unqualified to comment, they don't know what it means to actually LIKE poetry, they don't know how to feel what the poetry is making them feel--they are just taught that they should tear it apart for alliteration, symbolism and to conquer difficult meter and rhyme. I often show my poetry to various people and I can sense this bit of uncomfortability--they say that it's good, but they don't know how to explain what that means. They say that it's good to appease me, but for the most part I can tell that they are trying to understand and they don't. I wish that people would just read my poetry in a more subjective manner--not worrying about the meaning, not worrying about what I want it to mean, but rather, what it makes the reader feel.
Joe read the poem below and he said, this is about me?! And actually, it wasn't. He associated it with his need to have white noise at night, which is true and the poem IS applicable in that sense--it was what the poem said to him. He understood it in a completely different context and I was pleased. It meant something to him, and that is what matters most of all. He could connect to it in some way and relate to it or understand it. Isn't that what poetry is truly about? Feeling? Showing? Sharing in a sideways sort of way? He shared the experience of those words with me but they were different than I intended and the connection is that much stronger for it, at least in my opinion. Hell, if I wanted to be explicit, I'd be writing non-fiction, writing novels, laying it all out for you all.
6:34 PM | link | up| archives |
11.15.2002
In the Wrong Box
Again, that silence that is really
not very silent at all—the strangely
manufactured white noise
designed quite specifically
to mask the too-quiet room.
When it is too quiet, we don’t know
what to do. We gape and shake,
each nerve tingling, too aware.
When it is too quiet, new sounds
travel too far—they slice
through the nothing, rendering
it meaningless. We can’t bear
the jarring of too much sound
yet we can’t bear the empty
of no sound, so we huddle
in the fragile in-between,
wanting to spin both ways,
quietly, at once.
c.2002 clk
10:07 PM | link | up| archives |
11.14.2002
found over
on quidnunc, the BBC conducted a survey of the top 50 places to see before you die.
I've been to:
Las Vegas
New York
Florida
Niagra Falls
San Francisco
and while I was still in vitrio, I was in Sydney...does that count? Sigh, I need to travel more. My friend Greg, whose fingers are too broken to pick up the phone, could probably tick off at least 25 of them.
7:20 PM | link | up| archives |
my head is
so full these days. My eyes tired because sleep seems to be hard to come by, but my head is full. Weird dreams nightly (last night it was me escaping poison gas in a building I was in). Admiration for things like the little part of Rt. 16 in Medford before you get onto 93...the leaves, the way the sun shines in the morning, the burnt autumn trees, the geese dining on the bugs in the slick wet grass. Melodies in my head, new Tori...keep your eyes on the horizon... Wonder that the days move so fast these days. Amazement that I am, after ten weeks, still up at 6AM and writing three pages in my Artist's Way. Working toward becoming healthier and when I do so, I find that I am extra thoughtful and excited about cooking new things. I wonder about the past a lot...what ever became of my college friend Jennifer Jenkins who deserted our friendship when she moved from Seattle to Portland--remembering high school, when I found out my best friend was gay, and what that was like. Also, grateful that the woman in my class wasn't so evil this last time. Thoughtful about how to get the rest of the semester's work completed on time, with an A. Trying to figure out how to plan a fun, unique reception next summer after Joe and I elope to Vegas (where should we have it? Boston, the Berkshires? How can we pay for it?). So much to do, so much to think about, so much different than a year ago when I was so sad about my life.
11:38 AM | link | up| archives |
11.11.2002
not so bright
that son of Saddam...
3:09 PM | link | up| archives |
11.10.2002
the oddest thing
happened today while Joe and I were hanging out watching Spiderman on DVD. Romeo was walking over to me from where he sleeps in what we call his "bucket" in the fireplace room (a little alcove off the living room with a fireplace and where my desk is at). He looked like he had something on his back thigh. I assumed that it was a bit of ash from the fireplace. I tried to get close to him but he hid under the coffee table. I dragged him out and it wasn't a piece of ash, but a wasp!! Alive, trying to crawl through his fur! I freaked out. I had a magazine in my hand and was going to try and scrape it off of poor Romeo, but next thing I know he had pulled himself out of my hands and was hissing spastically. I saw the wasp on the floor and Joe promptly squished it. Romeo thought I was trying to hit him with the magazine and he got upset and ran to the bedroom and hid under the bed. Poor kitty. We yell at him so rarely and so when he thinks we are mad at him he gets very hurt and sulks off to the farthest corner. It sometimes will take hours to calm him down. Joe had the back door open a bit since it was so warm out today; we figure that's where the wasp came from.
6:26 PM | link | up| archives |
11.6.2002
bitch
session.
~ being cold.
~ Masshole drivers who drive 85mph with their lights off in driving rain, run up your backside and get upset at you for driving 55 in the slow lane, your hands gripping the steering wheel because the gusts of wind keep trying to force you into the center lane.
~ being in a class that you hate only because there is someone (in the group that you are stuck with for the semester) who belittles you, makes sideways comments about how ineffective you are, how often you "derail the process" by asking questions or offering suggestions, and who says that you are a know-it-all (well hell, I must know something...three weeks ago I made a suggestion about where to take our project, this person told me that wasn't the right direction and I was derailing the process. now they are going in the direction I suggested, go fucking figure).
~ contacts that stick to my eyes.
~ not enough sleep!
~ driving through flooded streets in Peabody, MA (well, maybe it was sort of fun...but that's what SUV's are for!)
~ having a large bruise on my knee from my fall.
~ kitty ignoring me in the morning for some reason--his ritual of hanging out with me in the bathroom while doing my hair and makeup seems to have suddenly stopped when it got cold. *pout*
~ thinking you got a good deal on a book from Amazon--hard back for $4.97! and it turns out the book is one of those mini-books that is only 4 inches tall.
Feel free to add to this list...
8:05 PM | link | up| archives |
11.3.2002
9 pages
finally written on Marianne Moore, my choice of a creative person to write about. She was a prolific letter writer and over 30,000 letters that she wrote in her lifetime have been preserved.
All I can say at this moment is that she wrote a hell of a lot more than I do--9 pages of analytical writing today has left me drained and not really looking forward to putting together my ten minute presentation.
Whine.
4:25 PM | link | up| archives |
