The Clock is Ticking

Jason over at A life in the day found my email address and "contacted me direct." I'm not concerned, I actually think it's kinda cool that someone took the time to do it.

He asked how I'd found his blog--apparently I'm the first stranger to blogroll him. Honestly, I can't remember how I wound up on it. I tend to go shopping on other blogs. Sometimes I look for different things to write about or put on my blog. Other times, I just check out what others have linked to--blogs, websites, whatever. Fifteen or 20 clicks later, I can't figure out where I started, but I've found some real gem that's worth being added to my list. And so, I ran across Jason's blog. I've been perusing it, back stuff and everything, for about a month. It's pretty good. I think he and I have a similar writing style, which is probably why I'm attracted to the blog.

Oh, hey..dig a bit deeper into his profile, and you find his site SecondSalon. He's got some amazing photographs on there. Enjoy.

Spent the day with the fam. We took a cruise on the duck pond.

This is what time I woke up. I never, ever sleep late. xoxo

Mother was telling us last night that she read or heard somewhere that psychologists/researchers have found a direct correlation between how a child behaves at 3 years old and his or her teenage years.

My father replied with "If we'd known that when you were three, we would have adopted you out."

Ouch. Not really--I know wasn't easy. But I probably should've pointed out that it wasn't my teenage years that were the problem, it was my early 20s. AND I'M JUST FINE NOW.

Anyway, before I get to sounding bitter *wink* I thought I'd just pass the info on to all of you. You have two choices--count your blessings, or run like hell.

So this week, we're supposed to find humor (according to the--totally optional--prompt at Poetry Thursday).

I don't write humorous poetry. Well, not any for public consumption (Don't we all play with limericks now and again? Or is that just me? Don't answer that.). And, in thinking about this prompt, I struggled. I can't think of any particularly humorous poetry--that was meant to be funny--I've read in years. There's my lame excuse for finally getting around to posting this week.

So, I got to thinking about the poetry I used when I taught elementary school. When working with third graders, one doesn't use Poe or Dickinson to teach poetry. Instead, you find Shel Silverstein (see link below) or Jack Prelutsky and you let them giggle their little heads clean off. Then you can do silly things like sharing some Frost or Whitman--the lighter stuff, of course.

I remember being introduced to Shel Silverstein's poetry. It was second grade and we read "I'm Being Eaten by a Boa Constrictor." It chronicles being eaten alive by a massive snake, starting with the toes and ending with the nose. It's hilarious! And it's the only poem I've ever memorized for school that I can still recite perfectly--and that was, ugh, almost 23 years ago. I use it now to show new interpers in my speech classes how to own the poetry they are reading.

And it was that poem, 10 years later that I thought about when my high school creative writing teacher told us to quit writing about our imagined angst and have fun with what we were doing. She pointed out that yes, words should speak to you in ways other than just mere language, but not everything we write has to be so visceral. Some things can appeal to just your funny bone.

I think that's probably also when I made the connection between poetry and music. I'd always known that, in essence, lyrics are just poetry, but I'd never really connected that the effect words-put-to-music had on me could be found in words on paper. It opened up a whole new world for me and my writing.

Sure, I still don't write funny poetry. But I stopped being so caught up in my perceived distress (which I can tell you now was really non-existent) and just wrote.

I never would've thought a rhyme about a kid being eaten by a constrictor could have such an effect on my writing self. I mean, come 'on, it's aimed at kids, right????

See some neat things and hear some audio recordings of a few poems.
Shel Silverstein
I about flipped when I did a search for this site. In the site engine blurb, the main link says "Shel Silverstein - the Official Site for Kids - Choose Speed." I did a doubletake and quickly clicked on it--it wanted the viewer to choose high or low bandwidth. That was NOT my first thought!

And to see this week's other offerings, visit Poetry Thursday.

Hotels. They're a necessary evils. Obviously, I have to have somewhere to stay when I leave town, hence the necessary part.

Evil because they 'rub' at all kinds of things that bother me. Showers are goofy--too hot, too cold, and the shower curtains try to envelop you. Too few channels on the TV and a remote that rarely makes sense. An alarm clock it takes a 6 year old to set. Never enough towels, etc.

Ugh.

I do like to stay in nice ones. When I need a base to decompress in, it's nice to come back to a well-apportioned room and relax. Tough for me to do that in the local motel.

I spent all last week in a pretty good hotel. Nice pillows, microwave and minifridge in the room. Starbuck's coffee packs for the in-room coffee maker. (That rocked). Free internet access and everything. It was so nice.

Last night, I stayed at a hotel in Austin. Great location, really nice place...view of the driveway. Internet access was available in every room, for an additional $10. Parking was available, for an additional $10. $18 if you used valet parking. The room wasn't ready when I tried to check in (granted, I was 2 hours before check in time, but I'd called ahead for the early arrival opportunity.

But the bed was awesome. There was a little decorative pillow that said "Sweet Dreams," and they were. That's the best hotel bed I've ever slept in and I'm a bed connoisseur. It had just the right amount of support, great pillows, mmm..wonderful. I drifted right off. It was amazing.

So...that's my one requirement. I'll deal with anything else, but gimme a great bed.

Read some more offerings at Sunday Scribblings.

I don't honestly believe in horoscopes, although they are a bit eerily true sometimes. I just read 'em for fun. This was my "love horoscope" this morning.

Here is your single's love horoscopefor Thursday, July 6:

Who, you -- selfish? Maybe just a little bit at the moment -- but maybe it's not such a bad thing. One of the fabulous things about being single is you can put yourself first and treat yourself right.

Actually, this is precisely how I'm feeling this morning. The last few weeks really. I just feel like this summer--my break, mind you--I've done nothing just for me. I've been teaching summer school, went on a weeklong technology camp thing, came back for more summer school. Somewhere in there, I went to the zoo, once, and saw a couple of movies. Wow.

I suppose it is selfish to want things to revolve around me for a bit. But I also think it's a bit cold when the people around me, that know me best, can see that I need a litte of that, too but turn the focus to themselves instead.

I'm looking forward to having the two full weeks off work that I've got scheduled after summer school ends next week. Yes, I'll be flying off to a conference for church in beautiful Tulsa (not fair, I know..I've never actually seen Tulsa), but I did volunteer for that, and it really promises to be good for me. Other than that, if it's not about me, I'm not doing it. I need that.

Is that so wrong?

Things are not as they
teach us--the Earth is hollow;
I have touched the sky.

I wrote the above haiku after a very difficult few months in my life. My world was topsy-turvy, and I was discovering that my perfect little bubble had popped. Nothing I had done, intentionally or otherwise, had initiated the chain of events, but I was left feeling hollow.

I'd come to the realization that everything my parents had taught me was a little tainted by a pseudo-perfection. Well, maybe not everything, but quite a bit was now questionable. The haiku was not so much confessional, as putting my state of mind down on paper.

It took me 6 months to get those 17 syllables worked out. Took me almost that long to admit I was hurting.

For more (completely optional) prompts, visit Poetry Thursday.

This is my favorite bit of wisdom from Robert Fulghum in his book From Beginning to End. For those who don't recognize that, he's the one who wrote Everything I Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten and It Was on Fire When I Laid Down on It. All three are good books. I just happen to really like the fodder this bit offers.

I have never like the phrase that says we're made of dust and return to dust. We are energy, which is interchangeable with light. We are fire and water and earth. We are air and atoms and quarks. Moreover, we are dreams, hopes and fears held together by wisdom and driven apart by folly. So much more than dust. The biblical verse should say, "Mystery thou art and to mystery returneth."

I can remember, rather vividly, when I was in high school being told that a friend and I were "two peas in a pod." I was offended. It was the first time that the phrase had ever incited anger in me. Now, please understand, I love this friend dearly. I admire her for some things she's done in her life. I don't particularly like some of the choices she made while we were growing up. Shortly before someone unknowingly offended me, she'd made a choice I neither agreed with nor supported (there is a difference between agreeing and supporting you know.). We were actually in an argument about the decision she'd made and so, taking offense was likely to be the response anyway. But I was incredibly upset that someone thought that we were truly cut of the same cloth, so to speak. I was nothing like her and didn't want to be thought of that way.

Ever since, I haven't liked that phrase--"two peas in a pod." It may have something to do with me not being enthusiastic about peas. Or the memories of hours spent shelling peas with my grandmother. Or maybe, just maybe, because those pods seem so cramped.

Actually, I think it's because I'd rather be an original. Being just like some other "pea in a pod" implies being just like someone else and that bothers me. I want to think I'm unique, and by golly I want everyone else to think so, too! I know, I know. Inherently, we are all unique. And, for that matter, all peas would be, too. But when was the last time you saw a bowl full of peas, identified one, and then later could indentify the exact same one. Come on, friends, it ain't possible. Unless you mark the pea, but that's cheating.

So, anyway, I don't want to be seen as a pea in a pod, either on my own or in comparison with someone else. Sometimes this desire gets my big mouth in trouble, other times, it endears me to someone worth loving.

To do a little scribbling of your own, and read those of others, click here.

Looking around the web this morning, I've found some stones--precious, semi-precious, and pebbles. Here's what I've seen so far:

• This could honestly be the worst picture I've seen of Brittany Spears. She looks like a fat cow. No, no..wait...THIS is the worst one I've seen. Really, people, what were we thinking?
• The link on the MSN site said "Hasselhoff Injures Arm While Shaving." First thought--WTH? Honey, you've been doing this awhile, haven't you learned yet to shave above the collar bone? Then you read the second paragraph. That's right, folks, only in the second one do they tell us what really happened.
• LOVE this blog: Writing on the Moon. Already on the BlogRoll.
• You know, the proper way and when to display the U.S. Flag was always taught in my elementary and middle schools. Why don't kids have any clue anymore? Is it not P.C. to teach it anymore?
• Finally, someone has reported on the changing face of NASCAR. I told you people it wasn't just for rednecks anymore.
• LOOK! Two reasons to visit Amsterdam.
• Most places just put a bunch of nails on flat surfaces to keep pigeons away.
• How would you NOT know THIS until you were awake?

Okay, on that note...I've got to put this away. That's just too much for me this early in the morning.

Posing

Went running around with my mother the other day. I can't remember what all we did, or even what we were talking about. How sad is that? It was only a couple of days ago.

Actually, I have good reason not to remember. Sitting at the Sonic, waiting on our drinks, she got me. I don't remember how we got around to it. Somehow the conversation had something to do with me being the product of my parents. That's when she got me.

"You know, you come from good stock."

Uh-huh..I was aware.

"Chicken stock."

Damn. Rarely does she zing me like that. I like to think it's because I think too fast for her.

Apparenty, I was slow that day.

My friend over at In the interest of... put up a post the other day that's been making me think. Damn, I kinda hate it when people do that to me. But, if anyone was going to do it, he makes the short list of those I don't mind so much.

All this thinking has stuck two things right smack in the middle of all my other thoughts. First, this Nickelback song Photograph. I like this song a lot, so it's okay that it's been running through my head non stop since Saturday. And I think it's funny that a lot of my students--I teach high school--don't like it at all. In fact, it's "stupid." I tell 'em everytime "you're just not old enough yet to appreciate it. They didn't write the song for your age group, it's for mine."

It's also sparked some (nonfiction) writing. So...here it is. Be honest--but be polite. I don't share my writing with just anyone.


I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. My parents still live there.

My mother would kill me if she knew I’d told you that.

Maybe I should explain. In my hometown, there is no “wrong” side of the tracks. There’s the side where everything is—grocery stores, banks, fast food joints—and the side where everything isn’t. It just happened that way, no particular reason. I grew up on the empty side.

When I was little, and the world consisted of school and the neighborhood, I didn’t notice or care. Kids are like that. Sixteen year olds are not. Suddenly, upon reaching that magic freedom age, the world multiplies in size. And living on the “wrong” side crimps your style. Inevitably, the people you want to pass your time with aren’t over “here.” No, they’re over “there” - with stuff to do and knowing glances.

Life lesson number one—you need to figure out on which side the world says you’re supposed to be. You don't have to agree, of course.

So, thanks to my friend over at In the interest of... I've beend doing a lot of thinking. This song keeps coming to mind.

Words house meaning within their mouth-feel.

Possibility
delightful delicacy.

Depravity
illicit indulgence.

Mindful perception,
attraction?
aversion?
on the tip of your tongue.



This week's Poetry Thursday topic can be found here.

Ack...It's been almost 4 months since I posted anything here. Since I'm really, truly, very serious about writing...damn it, I've got to do it.

So..here we go.

Found a neat blog site. Poetry Thursday. It's a site that is dedicated to encouraging people to read and share poetry. Could be an original piece or someone else's published work (with copyright concerns being addressed, of course). I'll be participating every week by writing. I used to write poetry constantly, some of it was even pretty good. Let's see if I can accomplish that again.

Ha.

I didn't get to spend today with my dad. He had to work, so I spent the day with mother and the Old Dog. We slept through a movie and then made red velvet mini-cakes (from scratch) for all of us.

I did, however, have some time to think about other fathers in my life. They aren't my father. Aren't even old enough to be my father, but I happen to think they are very good men and pretty damn good fathers. So...a note to all of the fathers in my circle of friends:

EQ
Beej
TM
and (the newest one) Bubba. (Who's bouncing baby boy opted to arrive 2 months early so he could make Mother's AND Father's Day this year rather than wait another 10-11 months for the next one to come around. This might be a sign of what's to come, you know?)

I know each of these people to be good at being men. They have that peculiar notion that you do what you say you'll do (I say peculiar, because it seems not all men have that) and I imagine this goes triple for anything involving their children. They've pushed themselves to be what they should be, upright and real adults. They are the kind of men that any child should consider themselves lucky to have as a father--I know I would have.

I have only one piece of advice for each of you. I actually gleaned it from the sermon this morning, but it's important. It was pointed out that children are most definitely products of their parents, and build their ideas and beliefs about life and faith from what parents teach and show them. We are who we are because of (or maybe in spite of) our parents. (I know, I know, you know this already, but bear with me.)

This is especially true when you look at their concepts of their fathers and of God. God looks a lot like "daddy" (or "grandpa") to lots of children. The characteristics and behaviors children associate with their fathers, they often associate with God. A loving father transfers into a belief in a loving God. A mean and vengeful father transfers into a fear of a vengeful God.

If I could ask any one thing of the fathers I know, it would be to foster a perception of a loving God in your children. I know you may already be doing this, but don't ever give your child reason to question you love them, and they'll have a much harder time questioning that God ever could. You're their first, best hope for knowing Jesus.

Okay, stepping away from the pulpit. Just know this, all of you--my life is better for having known each of you. I love you all, and pray for you and your families each day.

Happy Father's Day.

I love Sunday mornings. It's the only day, darn near every week, that I can guarantee a lazy start to the day. Even in the summer. They're beautiful.

I've been watching a lot of movies lately. Some I rented, some I've seen in theaters. Here's my take...

Aeon Flux: Weird show. I gather (now) that it has roots in some MTV cartoon series. It's an interesting story line, certainly keeps your attention, what with all the stunts and fighting. But, honestly, I give it a C+.

An Unfinished Life: The Jennifer Lopez/Robert Redford pic. It also has Josh Lucas in it, who is my current celebrity crush. Good movie, maybe a little contrived, but not bad. Beautiful scenery (and I don't just mean Josh *wink*). All in all, an A-.

Glory Road: Wow. This movie was amazing. I really enjoyed it. It's a great story, and I tell you what, just good stuff. The way Don Haskins chose to run his team in the '60s is an example of how things should be...but, sadly, aren't. A+.

The Break-Up: Hm..it was okay. Not worth the ticket price, and I even went to the matinee. Seems a little disjointed and rough-shod. I've seen both of them (Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn) do much better movies. B

The Lake House: I LOVED THIS MOVIE. Definitely buying this one when it comes out on DVD. Yes, you have suspend reality for a little bit, but isn't that why we watch feature films--to escape reality? But, wow, I really wouldn't mind a relationship that builds like that (minus the 2 year difference, of course). I saw that John Cusack was the first choice for the male lead. Thank goodness he turned it down, Keanu is definitely much better suited. And it's a PG movie--with Keanu Reeves in it. These don't come up very often. A+

What's everyone else been watching?

Turned on the news this morning (note, it's only 5:43 at this point, and I've been up for nearly an hour. Wonder Dog had a nightmare and woke me up with his "scare the crap outta Mommy" bark).

Immediately, immediately, realized I had the wrong news show on. I never watch the NBC affiliate in the morning. The regular guy on there bothers me. I think he's plastic. I always watch the CBS one, I like those people better.

Anyway, blonde chick on NBC hit on 2 of my pet peeves in roughly 45 seconds. First--perky morning people. You can be bright and warm in the morning and not be perky. This is not cheerleading, you know? It's the news and you're talking about a auto-cow accident on the freeway. Come on.

Other thing--she pronounced a pretty well-known word. At least I think it is. In a report about a demonstration at a major Civil War battlefield site over the weekend, she mispronounced the name of the site not once, not twice, but 6 times. SIX TIMES.

Tell me, how do you pronounce the word "Antietam?" Take a wild guess how she did.