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Member 99

Today, we welcomed member #99 to our family. Baby Jack was born 7 lbs 15 oz to Corey and Leah this morning. Brandon has been practicing up to be the best big brother in the whole wide world and is very excited.

And, unless someone has a surprise in the wings, it looks like Tucker's bride-to-be, Tammy, will have the honor of being family member #100 this fall.

Wow. That is one BIG family!

Good Morning

and the toilet just went berserk.

The curse continues. . .

I'm considering resigning myself to spinsterhood.

The boyfriend has a wife and a seven year old daughter (Vanessa).

Argh. So much for a carefree distraction.

Anyone have anything sharp? I'd like to hurl myself at it. (Okay, that's overly melodramatic, but come on, it's justified right?)

Someone please, please tell me why I seem to be cursed.

Fantastic

"The woman has become such a psychotic reactionary, her rhetoric has folded in on itself like a wad of stuck-together duct tape." - snagged this one from my friend Adam's blog. What a fantastic nugget. He weaves the most fabulous ropes of rhetoric. Check it out: Words Mean Things

"Between what you believe and what you dream is love." -can't remember where I got this quote, a movie recently I think

Pieces Written Here & There

Absence
The essence of you
lay softly on my pillow,
though the case
had grown cold.

**
A Poem Goes Here
a poem goes here
but i had to take it down
cuz it made even me blush
and i’m the one that wrote it!

it still makes me smirk though
and you can just about imagine
what was here before these words appeared.

ha!
just think about that for a while.

**
Can’t Sleep
Street lights soak the city
in a lemon-orange haze.
Sirens on the boulevard
and the clock in the next room
mock my restlessness.

**
Spite
The tiny Japanese woman
secretly hoped
the thought of her plagued him –

torturing him
and eroding his defenses
like water
dripping on a smooth rock.

**
Life
The endless quest
for meaning,
inspiration
and transcendence.

**
Kandinsky
a soft swirl of thick paint
from a dry fan brush
against a coarse canvas

**
Like Rain
It’s like rain,
she said.
Sometime warm
and soft
and a bit exhilarating.

I’ve never felt
warm rain,
he replied.
It’s only ever
icy and biting –
reminding me of
everything I’ve lost,
the mistakes I’ve made.

I’m sorry,
she said quietly,
feeling his isolation.

He was looking into her eyes
with a gaze like a man caged,
trapped behind bars.

What he wanted was freedom
from the intense gray
that plagued him like a
heartless stalker.

Even on the days it wasn’t present,
there was the fear of it.
It was a burden chained to
his heart –
a torture that
filled his mind
like rain.

**
Fundamental Questions
If the feeling is so strong,
how can it be wrong?

It is possible to move on
without letting go?

Possible to push one’s life forward
but be willing to drop it
in an instant?

**
One great summer
“Let’s make it a good summer,”
she said to me,
staring at the snow on the sidewalk
and looked up to gauge my reaction.

Every reason in the world
told me I shouldn’t
but I did it anyway,
I kissed her.

- Those were the last words
scrawled across the back page
of his journal,
and I haven’t seen him since.

Haven’t seen him since he
walked out the back screen door
with that guitar strapped to his back
and a helmet under his arm.

I didn’t even go to the window
to see the dust roll up behind him
as that bike roared away.

I didn’t have to.

**
Have you ever?
Have you ever wanted to know
a highway that never ends?

Have you ever wanted to sit
at the edge of the Grand Canyon
in silence
and watch the sun go down?

Have you ever wanted to lay
the seats back in your convertible
and listen to power ballads,
staring at the stars
and holding hands?

**
“That’s how you know you’ve found someone special –
when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute
and enjoy the silence.” – Mia, Pulp Fiction

**
Wouldn’t Make My Feelings End
If I had to say goodbye tonight,
I would.

If you walked through that door
and told me she’s stolen your heart
and you’ve asked for her hand,
I wouldn’t scream.

I’d smile through my tears
and give you a hug.
Say I’m happy for you
and die a million times inside.

I’d open that door
and hope the pain
would follow you out.

**
Truth
every song
reminds me
of you

**
Since Spring
A million words have jettisoned
across my brain,
but few were captured.

**
Old Man: If Life Could Be Rewound
If life could be rewound
he said,
I’d do it all again.

I’d hold back no reserve
and then
I’d take back all was said –
in hatred, anger and the rest –
and learn to bow my head.

I’d run and swing
and jump and love
and never fear again.

I’d cherish every moment
and dwell not in the past;
I’d stop to smell the flowers more
and cherish things that last.

**
Pulp
Sometime around August
I gave in,
dropped my heart in a blender
and set it to puree
until nothing was left
but pulp.

**
Sweet Scent of Spring
the daffodils cupped the sunshine
like gold or honey
and stood peacefully in a snowy blanket
of pink petals –
blossoms that drifted down
from the boughs above

the day held promise
and freely offered
the sunshine
growing on rooftops to the East
and dancing in the clouds above

**
London
There was a bench
in Bloomsbury Square
where I sat
next to the ghost of Virginia Woolfe
as she smoked
a long,
thin
cigarette.

**
untitled
Illusions are,
by their nature,
sweet.

**
Hilton Head
Here, with the sun
setting on the ocean,
and palmettos quieted
by the din of the ocean...

**
Savannah Slave Memorial
The ghosts of struggle,
of sacrifice,
of sanctity.

**
On the Horizon
The stars,
gazing at one another,
spy on the secrets
of ships on the horizon.

**
Disappointment
She was
angry at the world
and craving
relief.

**
Moving On
It’s like the phone number you dialed
every day for six years
and now can’t even remember.

It doesn’t matter to you anymore
and you question
how it ever did.

**
Where’s that leave you?
Rationality falls away,
melts,
and slides down
a drain.

**
Frustration
She haunts you
and you hate it,
this lyrical enigma -
the spirit of you
you didn’t know was missing
until she stole a friend from your life.

**
Hopeless
You hate him for it –
for making you feel this way,
like you’re never good enough.

**
Inside
There are a million
subtleties I want to know
about you, but am too
afraid to ask.

**
Separate Ways
Get the hell out of my life,
he hissed through gritted teeth.
It was all he could do
to keep from slapping her.

**
What is it
I want us to
blow up this thing
between us,
the horrible awkwardness.

**
Face It
Just because
you’ve gotten good
at hiding it,
doesn’t mean
it’s not there.

**
Searching For Utopia
Utopia is not here –
it’s where you are,
the terrain of little
consequence –
stands beyond my
windowpane –
a void and desolate
expanse of wasteland.

**
Unintentional
You hurt me
like a million jagged arrows,
piercing my heart
until my soul seeps out
forming a puddle at your feet.

**
Hiding
You were crying inside,
but the others couldn’t see.
I wanted to reach out to you
but the one you wanted wasn’t me.
The cool facade gave little indication
except the eyes that could not hide
the torrents of torment that
stormed you without mercy
until all you wanted
was to give in.

**
Haven
The thin skin of sanity – stretched to its max
beneath its translucence throbs a tangle of songs,
lyrics knowable, but muffled.

**
Elephant in the Room
You worry me.

There is something in your eyes
that begs for help –

a fear perhaps
or pain,
a worry of your own.

Forgive me if I’m wrong,
but it feels sad,
not light.

I didn’t want to pry,
grill you with questions –

and so, let the silence linger
praying you’d offer up
a small window
voluntarily.

The undisclosed topics
hung heavy on air –
an awkward unspoken giant.

The small allusions that bubbled up
confused me
and left only enough clues
to make interpretation dangerous.

Are you okay?
Your family? Career?
Do you have a child on the way?
Is your roommate more than a roommate?

I want to be supportive
but am unsure what you need.
The only thing I can hope
is you know I support you.

If there is something I can do
for you, I pray you will ask
because no matter what it is,
I would do it.

**
Reaching Out
Maybe you wanted to turn and tell me,
“I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m lost,” you’d say and turn away
anticipating what would follow,
the look of surprise and adoration
I could not hide.

Time would move in slow motion
as I wondered what to say –
a million different options
would cross my mind.

At last your voice would
draw me back,
still not knowing what to say.

Should I tell you the truth –
tell you you’ll be loved
no matter what you choose –
or ask what you want to do?

**
Rage
Fuck you.
You made a mistake.
You.

I had the guts.
I went back in.
Nothing. Nothing.

You fucked up.

**
Not Complicated
You want a fluffy twit?
An inch-deep puddle?

Go elsewhere.

Enigmatic,
eclectic
and challenging?

I am here.

**
In the Subway at 2am
“You follow your heart. That’s a dangerous way to live.” – Salvatorre

**
You’re Still You
Are you
trying to tell me
you’re gay?

That you need
my support
and I’ve just
complicated everything
and made it impossible
for you to tell me?

If that’s the case,
I want you to know
that I support you
no matter what.

You’re still you,
and you still
mean the world to me.

**
your love for her
like a
small secret
held close
and
rarely spoken of

**
Shut Up
Yea, I used to listen to your stuff too,
but put it on the shelf
after Dallou got shot.

Shit’s gotta stop.

Sit down,
close your eyes
and reflect.

The anger of your music is trite,
like teenagers who hate the world –
you provide hopeless tracks
for those who lash out,
powerless.

Now soak in the layers
of the album I just handed you.

Appreciate it for its technicality,
get underneath your prejudice
and feel its honesty, its energy,
the movement.

Notable Quotables

Digging through my miscellaneous scribbles, I found a hilarious collection of quotes from conversations with Brent. Enjoy. . .

“Besides I have this incredible sense of style, I can’t go around hanging out in a blanket – it wouldn’t be manly.”
“I’m getting close to the half-way point in my life, so we’ll see.”
“I don’t need my dad making jokes like that. We’re not that good of buddies.”
“You mean much more to me than breeding stock, Amanda. I just wish I were breeding stock!”
“I keep having this dream about squashing little children beneath giant clown shoes.”

Catching Up

I finally had a chance to look through most of the paper scraps that have been building up since who knows when. I can’t believe that there are about 15 pages of miscellaneous writings and ramblings that have been floating around unposted. So, I’ve decided to finally put them up. I know it’s annoying to see a ridiculously long entry, but deal, it’s my journal.

In other music news. . .

Video
In case you haven’t seen it, Lenny’s video was finally released. Quite frankly, it’s not good. But, it was a really fun experience and I’m super glad I got to be a part of it.

Audio
I recently purchased India Arie’s latest cd. (Call me girlie, but I loved her Acoustic Soul album.) However, this new one is AWFUL. I want my money back.

Live Venue
A few weeks ago I saw Kanye West and De La Soul live in concert. I was expecting a great mixture of the beautiful new and the classic old skool, but that’s not exactly what we got. Kanye was, in a word, HOT. He was totally fabulous, my ears went home very happy. It was an outdoor concert and his performance was like a magnet. People started crowding in from all directions until there was a sea of swaying listeners.

De La Soul on the other hand fell totally flat, they were terrible. Completely opposite of West, people began filing away faster and faster as De La Soul kept going. Admittedly, I couldn’t endure it myself and went home to play some of Kanye’s tunes.

Starting Fresh

Driving back from Madison yesterday I realized that there are 343 days until GRADUATION!!! Yaaaaaa. I can’t tell you how sick I am of being a student, of living in New York, and being in debt past my eyeballs. I’m am soooo looking forward to working again. Now, if I only knew where to apply and what I want to do. . .

It's ironic. When I started my MBA last fall, I remember thinking to myself, "I will not come out of this the same person I was when I started." I feel like the past year has opened my eyes to a lot of stuff including the realization that I do not want to be like these people. Rather than coming out different, it's like I'm becoming more and more the person I was when I started. Like "hunkering down" and being unwilling to give up the cultural differences between a Midwesterner through and through and morphing into an East Coaster.

You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl.

Karma Has Shifted

A lot has happened during my last few posts. I turned 27 – can’t believe I’m creeping in on 30 (argh). Several friends and relatives have died. Two friends had babies (and two more are due in just a couple more weeks). My replacement roommate (Alyssa) has been replaced with someone new – Jamie, she’ll move in at the end of June. My Spanish is improving thanks to the new boyfriend. Finals have ended and grades are out (I managed to pass all my classes!) I’ve accepted 2 summer internships (for a grand total of 4 jobs now- am I nuts?). I’ve had the chance to hang out here in the Midwest for ten days, enjoy the sunshine, fresh air and quiet, and catch up with most of my friends.

Poignant

"You cannot kill the truth with a bullet."

-saw in passing on a poster

On a Bulletin Board

Saw this in passing today. . .

"A bumper sticker never changed the world."

I like it.

Himmelbergisms

My friend Erik and I share an appreciation for great quotes. So, throughout the past semester we’ve been writing down some of our Macroecon professor’s fantastic dry wit. The guy is an amazing teacher and has such a great sense of humor you’d never suspect he’s a senior economist at the Federal Reserve Bank. Here is some of the fabulous under-his-breath pith Erik captured:

On prior experience with macroeconomics:
"If you feel you're in the left tail of the distribution, don't worry..."

On supply shocks:
"Wars and earthquakes are interesting to analyze economically..."

On preferable income distribution:
"You can't, from the womb, write insurance contracts..."

On international transfer payments:
"Suppose you go to London with nothing but your MBA degree, your suitcase, and your genius..."

On the flow of illegal money:
"Suppose you're a Peruvian drug lord, who's conservative, and you invest in T-Bills... you buy politicians, a small army--lots of stuff."

On balancing the current account and the financial capital account:
"It's a mindbender. Smoke some pot..."

On the impact of money demand on interest rates:
"When you withdraw money from an ATM, interest rates don't change. You're tiny."

On monetary asset classification:
"Monetary assets are categorized by their moneyness..."

On dealing with a tricky question:
"Let me interpret your question the way I want..."

On money market equilibrium:
"This was Milton Friedman's career-making equation. He was good at this equation..."

On the semantics of economic downturns:
"When a recession becomes a depression depends on whether you are running for office or not..."

On purchasing power parity in fast food:
"So following the arbitrage argument, Japanese families should be flying to New York, or at least San Francisco, to get their Big Macs..."

On the essence of financial genius:
"The difference between you, me, and George Soros is timing..."

On factors that affect net exports:
"And if you think anything else belongs up here on the board, ask me and I'll shoot it down so you know where you stand..."

On the ambiguous effects of economic events on net exports:
"What's the end result? You can't tell. Thank you very much, that'll be thirty grand..."

Springtime in the City

I’m looking around the city for some wrought iron or stone window boxes and hope to plant something by the end of the weekend. Speaking of planting. . . I must recount the tale of my collision with the irony to end all ironies – but in a minute.

I’m hoping to plant a mixture of things to achieve planter boxes that contain: a) something colorful b) something bloomy c) something viney d) something that can survive shade e) something that smells good, and last but not least, f) something I can keep alive. (I cut the roots off Spike, my adopted bamboo shoot, and replanted him yesterday – we’ll see if he lives.) That’s the mission.

Okay, back to the torrid story I alluded to earlier. . .the irony el grande.

Those of you that know me know that I have gave up on the radio when I moved out here. Clear Channel owns everything. *blughk* So, you’re welcome to listen to 85 minutes of commercials, the same 3 poptart songs and a moron of a dj that ought to be selling used cars, over and over every hour. The only original stuff is played on the college stations, but even that gets annoying.

Getting to my point. To remedy my boredom, I’ve copied about 2500 songs from my cd collection, the collections of friends, and several illegal places onto my laptop. With MediaPlayer I can hit Shuffle, and let the player select what to play at random.

Random.

(Sometimes I think the cosmos just like to have a good laugh at my expense.)

So, it’s Saturday night a few weeks back, had a lovely dinner, shared some fabulous wine at an outdoor table at the little place on the corner, walked home under the full moon holding hands with the new guy. . .

The lights are low, the music is soft, things are getting kinda hot and heavy. . . and MediaPlayer rolls from Jeb Loy Nichols to. . .

Nine Inch Nails – “Closer”. I almost choked. I started laughing. For those of you that aren’t NIN fans, it’s the song whose refrain is, “I wanna fuck you like an animal.” (Sung of course in a screaming/acid rock fashion.) What’s even funnier is he doesn’t speak English very well, so I had to explain the irony of the whole situation. We had a good chuckle.

And I ask myself. . . Why me? Does this stuff happen to other people?

Argh.

My roommate has decided to bounce, so I’ve been looking for a new one (as much as I hate the thought of living with a total stranger). It's not the type of stress I needed during finals, but I survived. And, as of tonight, Kyoko has been replaced with Alyssa.

Can’t blame K though, I finally saw her boyfriend Chris’ apartment a couple weekends back and it is ultra-fabulous. Wow. I’d want to live there too.

In Living Color

Thanks to the techno-genius of one fantastic Mr. Blust, my Journey has had a makeover. I love it, I absolutely love it. Thanks Adam, for making my whim a reality.

Brent, I know the new pink look comes much to your chagrin, but alas, I am part girly-girl. p.s. What’s with leaving the country without saying goodbye? Mr. JetSet – who has a million frequent flyer miles – can’t even skip over to the Big Apple to have a quick two-martini lunch? Sad. Pretty sad. But seriously, enjoy Taiwan, I can't wait to come visit.