Dream, when the day is through...

This beautiful family is what I want to dobehopeforstrivefor. I'm happy for others who experience happiness and contentment, in any way, but to me, this family is IT. I found their website through a computer programmy friend, who was really impressed/intrigued by the game Jason designed.

New favorite book: Saturday with Mez. A beautifully photographed and inclusively written board-book about breast-feeding. A non-gendered child (in the book, anyway), co-sleeping co-oping, really aware family!

This is what makes me hope for the future! (and, um, play video games.)

Their local community currency project, North County Notes

Jason's website

college=questionable health

I like widening the defintion of health--as Lewis Mendahl says, "If it works, it's good medicine."

For breakfast today: Lemon scone, banana, apple, trail mix, three pieces of fried chicken.

We'll see if I feel famished/faint as usual when I get out of class in four hours.... Speaking of class, I'm gonna be late!

"marble"

It took me a long time to fall in love with myself. It took candlelight, my first Samhain, a boy's biglittle love... Sometimes I am still enchanted by own face, still and wise as deer, and sometimes I am repulsed and I think Who is that misproportioned child? Where are the lines on my face, the scars, where is dancing swan and fierce-souled badger? Who is that child in the mirror? I suppose this is a mix of those reactions...
---

only pretty when
sitting still
bombs ticking heart unflinching
mouth still as a rose, all somber pale
skin flush and eyes sinking,
hair dark and washed gold with wanting—
the reflection lit by candles,
a single bare bulb
the moon resting her hand on my face
fingers on the pearls of my breasts—
what I need to show you. That stare.
Gravity releasing taut skin, chin
to cheek over bird-bone shoulders
heart shuttered open, intensity angelified
winged gaze—unfluttering.
my face an open stretch of plain,
sky to be sewn shut, made only of
feathers to painted with touch—
too beautiful, you say. the way I
want to be seen, hard as crags
that fall only at the whim of the sea.
to be felt fully, held as the soft weight
of carved stone.

---

Afterthoughts: the frequent mentioning of stone and statue/art metaphors is partially unintentioned--I love the way everyone thing looks when it's still, like a painting. I suppose that's what I was trying to get at--the drama and soulness I feel when I look in the mirror--all alone, all glowing, all myself.


What did you think?

soy una quien busco

A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth.

A courageous man went and rescued the bear.
There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save
anyone who cries out. Like Mercy itself,
they run toward the screaming.

And they can’t be bought off.
If you were to ask one of those, “Why did you come
so quickly?” he or she would say, “Because I heard
your helplessness.”

Where lowland is,
that’s where water goes. All medicine wants
is pain to cure.

And don’t just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton
of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music.

Push the hair our of your eyes.
Blow the phlegm from your nose,
and from your brain.

Let the wind breeze through.
Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.
Take the cure for impotence,
that your manhood may shoot forth,
and a hundred new beings come of your coming.

Tear the binding from around the foot
of your soul, and let it race around the track
in front of the crowd. Loosen the knot of greed
so tight around your neck. Accept your new good luck.

Give your weakness
to one who helps...

-Rumi

(Ran into this poem at Herbwifemamma's blog...)

The poem is called "Cry Out in Your Weakness", and it's mostly about being strong enough and trusting enough to let "the milk/of loving flow through you". And I vibed with that part too, but the first--the medicine, the flowing pool, "one who helps"... That's me. That's me in a nutshell and a universe every atom.

I'm taking a career/major exploration class in order to find how all my abstract talents and wants and needs in life fit into the concrete workcareerplace, and surprisingly, poetry isn't up there. I love poetry, I am poetry. It is god's gift to me, my words and flow of language, but I don't see myself writing full-time... Maybe this is cognitive behavioral, that the first "real" poetry discussion I got into was MFA's vs. Local poets, i.e. the idea that it takes a degree and proffesional career to write good poetry vs. the value of having a day-job and how that expands and grounds your writing. I still believe in that, and that is why the best, most relatable poets had day-jobs--Plath a professor, WCW a doctor among other things, Al Young held a bazillion different jobs, as have Kimiko Hahn and Marge Pierchy.

Anywaya, so I'm researching majors, and unassumingly open up to the S's.... and to sociology. And social work. And women's studies. (Well, that last one was a given). While I can take all the English courses and pass them and yeah, it'd be fine, these were the ones I'd go out of my way to take. These are the classes I want the reading list for, and to talk with the profesor after, classes with real-life application and learning how society works and analyzing it all to hell--That's what a love about feminism, the way findings and articles are always being criticized and picked apart (man, more positive verbs would be good there), and it's mostly good-natured and expected.

New plan?

Sociology or Social Work Major (with concentration in Community Change)

Double Minor in Women's Studies and Comparitive Literature (which I think will enable me to teach high school social science and English.)

Other news: Joined the Americorps. Will be tutoring and helping run a homework club, k-8, 12 hours a week. Just attended 10 hours of training in communication, classroom management, literacy tutoring, ELL (english language learners) tutoring, phys ed activities, proffesionalism and Americorps Stuff. I feel 10x more confident about working with kids and am really excited!

fate coding

I had a well-written, very angry vent written out to Governator Schwarzenegger re: taking away my Cal Grant/peace of mind/future, then MS word wouldn't let me put it over on blogger because the post showed up ridiculously encoded. So I guess it wasn't meant to be...

Needless to say: I am worried about whether I am going to be able to continue in school, as 3,000 dollars was basically what was keeping me here... And I don't have that kind of money, this job isn't going to pay that kind of money, and I've already signed my soul away. (to serving my community! hell yeah!) ... Mildly nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Wish me lucklove and good vibes...

Feminist Radio

Basically awesome.

[ http://www.feministing.com/archives/010786.html ]

Dear Universe,

I want-need, in this order:

1. To have my ideals, intellect, goals, ideas, and body mutually respected--not overprotected or singularly revered.

2. To be held.






With love, T.


(I could say a million other things, but honestly: this is what I am starved for.)