Sunday, December 27, 2009

peace on Earth

This Christmas i shunned the bells and tinsels of yester-years

reveled in a low-burning fire instead
and the sound of the wind in the still-live pines
or the soft sink and slide
when standing in the mud of a rain-weary gravel road.

I don't miss a thing.
I don't mourn a thing.
and I don't want a thing.
perhaps it's the closest thing to Peace on Earth i'll ever encounter

and I bet my tiny striped gloves and the sweet flavor of hot-buttered rum
it's fleeting
on it's way again before i've even had time to recognize it.

you do not need it: this Peace of Mind, whoever she is
whoever he is
whoever it is

Sunday, September 13, 2009

caroline you're unrefined
like fake wood floors and cheap boxed wine
you are the buy one get one kind
oh caroline the unrefined

and caroline you're careless too
your friends will fret the things you do
like getting no sleep and meals too few
oh caroline the careless too

caroline you were designed
your life was carefully aligned
an axis: a path you'll one day find
oh caroline who was designed

catching a song

so there's this song that i fell in love with the second i heard it
and ever since i heard it, i just want to hear it again
radio plays are few and far between
and each listen just makes me want to get ahold of this song
make it ever-accessible
at my fingertips
there to enjoy whenever i please
because this song makes me feel
like me
and i sing along to it without shame

but the song's just not for sale
and even if it was
it would be selling at a price i don't feel like paying right now
so i just have to wait
till the song comes out on itunes
and till i feel ready to give up that last 1.09 itunes credit i have

none of this is true

but it's a pretty good analogy for what is true right now

Friday, August 7, 2009

liar

song i wrote:

He said don't flatter yourself
you're not that entertaining
as a matter of fact,
you can be quite draining

If i were you I would tame it down
take off that paper crown
leave it right there on the ground
Hurry, now, you're drawing a crowd

it's your fault at the end of the day
that's what you get for finding someone to blame
they'll all say it's ok
but look at you; you're covered in shame

he said don't pardon yourself
you're as guilty as i am
you may speak your thoughts
but you don't apply them

just forget about everything
take off that purity ring
no one keeps their angel wings
I could cage the bird and she'll probably sing

It's your fault at the end of the day
that's what you get for finding someone to blame
they'll all say it's ok
but look at you; you're covered in shame

she said i'm done with you
I hope to God you're a liar
Alli can blame myself for
is that tragic desire

I'm a coward but i put on a show
act out a smile after every blow
this is how the aftermath goes
i leave with the blame instead of the rose

I'm done with all of this blame
I'm finally through defending your name
you're gonna tell me i've changed
I wish that I could tell you the same

Take my advice
make no more excuses
for the love of your life
and all his abuses

Sunday, July 5, 2009

the strangest thing to be grumpy about

I have the strangest thing to be grumpy about.
I was experimenting with oil painting yesterday. It felt perfect! We have a large basement that feels a bit cavernous and unfriendly during the winter, but now that it's the middle of a hot, muggy summer, it feels wonderful in the bowels of our little home! So, what a novel idea it seemed to be to do some painting in this basement of ours.
however...
this morning I took a peek at the self portrait i had painted to see if the paint was dry.
The paint was not dry.
In fact, it had been eaten by a mouse.
A mouse literally ate my face off.

Now that is something to be grumpy and amused about.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

if today was a pair of shoes

If today was a pair of shoes...
it would be sandles: loose and informal...but bad for your posture if experienced for too long.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

where art lives

today I was sitting under the few full-grown trees on the downtown pedestrian mall while Annie worked from her laptop. The book I had brought to read was less enticing than the dense, summer activity around me.
so I sat and watched
and I began to notice
the art in everything

An old man set himself on the ground against a building, leaving his guitar case open at his feet. He strummed his guitar gently...almost inaudibly, then began to sing with a voice that started as a yell and sweltered into the soulful ring of pure southern gospel.
art

Then, a moment after his rich song had begun, a young man with a traveler's backpack weighing slightly down on his youthful stride and a camera hanging around his neck, knelt down at the old man's side and began to take pictures. He squinted through his lens as the old man sang on. I could only imagine what he saw.
It was the art of observation.

At some point, a white-haired tourist with high socks and white shoes summoned the young man to his feet and I watched as she talked with him. From my little observation dock a few feet away I tried to read their gestures. The young man explained his pack and his camera, and, I imagined to myself, the the jar of peanut -butter in the side pocket of his pack as well. The woman listened eagerly, her curiosity indulged.
It was the art of inquisition: of curiosity and conversation.

I watched for awhile longer: the tourist, the photographer, the singer. I had to smile when the old man sang "Lord, I can sing and I can sing on my own. When I sing, I can sing alone," and in a moment of subtle irony a man watching on the side-lines noticed an empty chair and brought it over to the old man for him to sit in. The man who sings alone accepted the chair graciously and I wondered how many others noticed what a team of contributors had made themselves a part of the moment: the song: whether from one side of it or the other.

perhaps no one really sings alone.

And this was my reflection
my art

Sunday, May 24, 2009

carrie

i am
very clearly

my father's eager daughter, following closely in his footsteps where e'er his adventurous spirit takes us

my mother's strong-willed daughter; letting my words build and break walls; writing spirited conversations in poetry, letters and journals: shared and unshared just like she did

my sister's head-in-the-clouds little sister; just as oblivious of the judgers and down-lookers of the world one moment as i am accutely aware of them a moment after. Reaching for some level of maturity, but in the end, dedicated to my youth.

my twin sister's loyal twin sister; reveling in a companionship that started before birth; always looking for a way to share; always looking for a way to support, to cooperate, to join.

and aside from those who make me who i am

who am i?
what will i bring with me from my roots when i take flight?


if nothing else i am theirs
here or there

i am theirs

wonder twins!

I never knew about the "Wonder Twins" from "Superfriends."
Now that I have discovered them, I would just like to say that the "wondertwins" show is an intensely awesome and extremely accurate representation of the behind-the-scenes, day to day, inner workings of twin-hood.
Annie and my twin-ship is EXACTLY like Zan and Jayna's relationship.
I can turn into animals and Annie can turn into water or ice objects.
It's bizarre how similar we are to Zan and Jayna. Maybe we should sue.
and Gleek...um...there's a little of Gleek in both of us.
or maybe our dog hershey is the real-life equivalent of Gleek.

I would also like to add that annie and my capers are much more successful. we would never carry out a failure like the "moal-moat mission."
just sayin
anyway. watch the clip.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Beauty

Beauty you are a broken glass hiding in the still-clear dish-water.
You are the smell of banana bread at two in the morning and the quiet breathing of a house that sleeps.
You are the hypnotic movement of a choral song that needs no singing along.
You are curls uncombed and covers unkempt; and the cold snap of entereing a room whose windows have been open all day.
You are my beloved sister sleeping soundly away.
You are the quiet margin of wake at the end.
Beauty, it's you who keeps me up tonight, softly rejoicing Your Hands upon my day.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

tuesday should be grounded

if weekdays were cliche saturday morning cartoon personalities,
Tuesday would be the annoying bully who kicks me in the corner of the playground at recess and steals my lunch money.
In the end, my dignity is a little worse for the wear and my clothes are covered in mulch, but there's no real damage that can't be healed by big brother Wednesday or especially favorite cousin Friday.
So, in your hypothetical face Tuesday.
I've got the rest of the weekdays on my side.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

thoughts after hearing John Perkins speak

revenge is something we can understand.
it makes sense in this world.
an eye for an eye and all of that.

but
forgiveness is like a beautiful stranger in a crowd of cynics who have little to remember about hope, and even less control of the reflex to turn their heads and watch it re-enter the world.
Our heads turn and our paces stutter as we let hardened gazes fixate.
on this new and awkwardly misplaced guest

and even when you've left,
you leave us glancing the room to find you; looking distractedly over our shoulders and at the door.

but you are terrifying to approach and your gaze is hard to meet.

such as it is

don't let our furrowed brows chase you out

i for one
welcome you
to return as often as i chase you out
7X77
and pray your persistance exceeds mine

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Runkerry road

Ireland is everywhere this evening.
It's in my Starbucks Raspberry mocha,
it's in the dampness of my pant-legs as the rain soaks up through the bits that drag on the ground.
it's in this green/yellow sweater
and it's in the pause at the door as i search for the house key.

Ireland is always somewhere in the far reaches of my thoughts

but some moments throb with it in a strange mixture of yearning and accomplishment.

but off i ran
and here i am

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

the four letter words

remember those four letter words we weren't allowed to say or think about?
I've thought of a few more.
some of them feel like curse words
others are just amusing.
all of them make us uncomfortable at one time or another.

so here they are:
the four letter words:

work
hate
love
cash
time
boys (but interestingly enough...not men)
fake
news
race
poor
rich
fame
dirt
late
last
lost
give
take
cake
food
free

Sunday, March 8, 2009

nonviolent action communicated in a rediculous way

When little Carl came home from church,
two weeks ago Sunday
he asked his mom "Hey what's for lunch?"
(He was hungry on such a long day)

"You mean who are we having for lunch today,"
Carl's mother corrected her son,
"We're having the Burton's for lunch today,
-isn't that going to be fun?"

Little Carl was quiet and he went to his room,
too surprised to speak
Why, him and little Greg Burton were friends,
they traded cards in church each week!

"How can I eat the Burtons!" Carl thought,
"What is my mother thinking?!"
Carl's eyes were growing with fear and surprise,
while his appetite kept shrinking.

"Will we eat every part: Shoes and shirts?
and even clip-on ties?
Will we start at the fingers and end at the toes?
I'm NOT going to eat the eyes!"

Little Carl felt scared, and a little sick
and he knew this just wasn't right.
He WOULDN"T eat Gregg Burton today,
he'd put up quite a fight!

He grabbed his baseball bat in his fist,
and gave it a hardy swing
But he couldn't imagine frighting his mom,
he loved her...despite everything!

"I'll fight," said Carl "to save my friends,
but I will not use my bat-
I'll fight with my words and I'll fight with my tears.
Yes...instead, I'll do that!"

"And I won't eat my friend, no...I'll refuse,
by keeping my mouth shut tight.
I will not eat any friends today,
and that is how I'll fight."

Just then the doorbell rang in the hall
and the Burton's stepped inside.
Carl jumped to his feet and rushed to their side
where he stood by little Gregg and cried:

"We cannot eat these friends of ours!
We'll miss them far too much!
If you want me to join at the table today,
serve something else for lunch!"

...
The Burtons were there for lunch that day,
but they were not served on a plate.
Instead lasagna was put into their bowls
and everyone was happy and ate!

Friday, February 20, 2009

20 minutes on mascara

Let me paint a picture of the atmosphere here in the C'ville "Happy Belly House" right now.

The lights are dim and I can only just barely see the stacks of dishes hiding in the shadows of the kitchen: the aftermath of my initiation to cooking tofu/brown-rice salad.

Annie has crashed on the sofa, (a well deserved status considering the show she put on for us all at the 'church coffee shop' performance tonight), and Megan is pacing about with her new phone, talking to herself in whispered spurts about the various discoveries she's making about the cell phone she worked so hard to pick out and purchase.

And I am blogging once again: blogging and sipping the second to last cup of candy cane tea, a house favorite that I feel a little guilty about depleting.

It's been a good day. I woke up around 11 thinking that I had the whole day off, and by noon I had mustered up enough energy to agree to go in to work to help the students with their craft hour. I even had enough spunk to put a little mascara on for once...which confused the kids. I really didn't think kids noticed a thing like make up, but little 6 year old Ayana took one look at me and told me I 'looked weird.' It wasn't exactly the reaction I was looking for. I didn't spend 4 dollars on new mascara so that children could tell me I looked funny, but I suppose you get what you pay for and I'm just too cheap to see what reaction the 8$ mascara elicits. Perhaps Ayana would find that version of mascara less strikingly "weird."

But I'm a big girl. I've developed a tough enough skin to be able to let the accidental insults of a 6 year-old go ignored. Despite the unplanned work hours and the less than successful attempt at glamor, it was a good day. After all, who can have a bad day during President's Day week when there are kids running around wearing homemade Abe Lincoln hats. If little MacArthur can voluntarily spend the evening with a cylinder of construction paper propped on top of his head with absolute, unashamed confidence...then i suppose I can confidently spend the evening sporting the results of a bad mascara job.


so...there you have it. I just spent 20 minutes writing about mascara.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

insatiable

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever grow out of the "summer-break" kind of mindset. I feel like everything I've committed any significant time to has had some sort of summer break attached to it...relationships included i suppose. Even the new job I have will come with a handy little summer hiatus, which I love.
Perhaps this is the real reason i'm interested in teaching.

am i a commit-a-phobe?

Saturday, February 7, 2009

loud music

So, my friend David uses this blog site, and this happens to be the same blog site i used when I was blogging about Ireland, so I figured I'd try using it for a more "daily life" blog.

we'll see how it goes.

attempt 1: Loud music

I am generally an 'acoustic' type person. I tend to prefer soft, contemplative music.
However...right now I am feeling slightly hyper...it might be the chocolate I had an hour ago at a benefit dinner or it might be the fact that I felt kind of attractive in my high heels.
For whatever reason, I have enough energy to feel wonderful abut Megan blasting Jimmy Eat World so loudly that she can hear it over her vacuum cleaning. It has energized me!

and....it's also pretty cool that Megan just swept the rug.
that's nice.
doesn't exactly make me any more or less hyper...but it's nice. :)