I am increasingly becoming interested in hearing about the war in Iraq from the perspective of both Iraqis and Americans - whether journalists or soldiers - who are actually in Iraq. I distrust the popular media and journalism on the front pages which seems so detached. I don't just want the facts, I want the opinions of those in Iraq. Do the Iraqis support the American occupation? Do the soldiers believe in their mission/support their commander-in-chief? Truly, I think it doesn't necessarily matter what I say. I can fill my mouth and head with lots of ideas and passionate feelings and such, but what if they're just ideas? I'm not living out the war, the reality of bombings in my city on a daily basis, with such close proximity to myriad threats, including death. I don't want to just espouse ideas that have no founding in truth or reality or have a distorted view of what is The Good.
That said, I am aware that not even every solider or every Iraqi will feel the same about the U.S. occupation, or the war, or even would support the removal of Saddam from power, as seen here. Not to mention, some people in Baghdad (Sunnis) may be particularly hostile, seeing as how they have gone from a thriving lifestyle thanks to Saddam, to one where electricity goes out, running water is sporadic, and other such realities of wartime... this situtation I think is the result of the anti-American feeling behind this blog.
There are several noteworthy journalists chronicling the lives of soldiers and Iraqis alike. One, Stephen Vincent, was recently killed. You can still read his articles and postings here.
Another journalist I got hooked reading, who records on both paper and film real instances of urban fighting and reconnaissance in Iraq is Michael Yon. He recently has been following one LTC Kurilla, and details a really interesting string of events in the streets of Baghdad here.
This same site, and this same Kurilla, is made mention of on The Fourth Rail, a site I found thanks to another great blog maintained by two Iraqi brothers, 24 and 35 years old, who live in Baghdad - their site is called Iraq the Model, so check it out.
But the group of well educated gentlemen who write for The Fourth Rail site made this comment about Kurilla:
"Kurilla represents the engaged commander: drinking tea in the homes of the people on his watch, working hand in hand with the nascent police and security forces, and showing the best of the Western Heroic Ethic in the streets." - quote from The Fourth Rail
Check out their site, and the article this quote came from about how to define victory (esp. in relation to what is happening in Iraq... are we being successful?) After reading Michael Yon's log of Kurilla getting shot, and reading a lot of the history about this guy, I have come to the conclusion that he is one of the few who is a true warrior, and I use the word warrior in the best sense of the word: brave, courageous, daring, compassionate, who truly will root out the evil personally and would willingly lay down his life for his fellow men, American and Iraqi alike.
(side note: "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends..." - John 15:13)
I also realize there are many people who are true warriors and heroes on the battlefront. I think of many of my friends from The Naval Academy in Annapolis, who attended a school so externally and formally unlike my college choice of St. John's across the street. And yet I truly admire them for their commitment, discipline, and selflessness. Sure, I met a few who were arrogant, pretentious. Unavoidable naturally. Several who disdained the St. John's education and way of being. However, I feel closer to the situation in Iraq by talking to people who know that they may very well be going to Iraq themselves shortly, once they have mastered flight school and training and all.
While I was in Pensacola visiting Laura Moore ('04) I enjoyed having snippets of conversations with 2ndLts Michael and Chris. Chris made an interesting comment. He said that of all the military academies, the Naval Academy is the most liberal... and even then, the Naval Academy is roughly 85% Republican. He strongly thought that most Americans don't really care about the soldiers, and cited Ms Sheehan, mother of a fallen soldier, as an example. He thought her son would be appalled by his mother's crusade. Any soldier would be appalled to have their sacrifice, their service, which was 100% voluntary to begin with, be degraded by opposing the purpose to which they entered the service in the first place... I can understand grief, but you do a disservice to your loved one's legacy by seeing their death as meaningless or unnecessary... they - the soldiers, the fallen soldiers - knew the risks, knew the sacrifice that might be demanded, knew who their commander-in-chief was and willingly put themselves under their commander-in-chief's direction.
I think freedom is necessary. I wish war were not.
Even though, again, not all servicemen would agree with these thoughts of mine or a fellow enlisted man like Chris or Michael, I am inclined at least to trust their voices over the media's and any other war-opposing, Bush-opposing individuals who have valid points but are sadly drastically more detached, as I am, than those who live the life of a soldier, albeit a soldier in training...
Other worthy mentions to check out:
The Messopotamian written by a dentist in Baghdad. He has interesting ideas.
Or Major K, a National Guardsman/Reservist training the Iraqi army, whose site I have only read a little from after finding it via Iraq The Model
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
a little more than my two cents...
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
works wonders.
I think it’s a miracle that I’m alive. Considering how many nights I drove cross country without sleeping alone makes this breath a miracle. Sleep, as I know many have experienced, can sneak up on us and seize us suddenly, and is quickly becoming a major cause of accidents and fatalities on America’s highways. But I think I’ve beaten sleep at its own game: I have outwitted sleep, the temptation to sleep when driving, and the occasional and dangerous drooping of the eyelids behind the wheel. All this, thanks to the Tootsie Roll Pop.
You remember the commercials, well, at least I do. The owl decides to find out how many licks it takes to get to the center of the Tootsie Roll Pop. He ends up crunching in, giving up the quest for the precise number of licks. The result: the world may never know.
I know how many licks it takes to get to the center of the Tootsie Roll Pop. I tested it over the course of one middle of the night drive through desolate and deer filled Montana and North Dakota. It takes roughly 1185 licks. Now, granted, I was determined to find the number of licks it took not just to reveal the first bit of the tootsie roll center. I pressed on to the higher, more time-consuming challenge of discovering how many licks it would take to completely rid the tootsie roll of the sugary substance covering up its pure state. I’ve debated the semantics of the question “how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop” with various challengers to my licking methodology, but when it comes down to it, the licking was my antidote to sleep.
I’ve tried coffee, I’ve tried music, singing out loud to music, rolling down the windows and opening the sun roof, even pinching myself to bring my mind to a more alert state. I’ve consumed more frappuccinos and cokes and pixy stix and sweet snacks and salty ones, all in attempting to find some cure to that nagging sleepy feeling. I am sure I’ve put on a few pounds overnight while sitting behind the wheel of my beloved and faithful car, Dart, unwilling to stop and stretch, unwilling to go to a motel, my eye on the prize of the next destination. 28 hours of driving in a row was the particular stretch of time in which I met the Tootsie Roll Pop.
I first purchased the single Tootsie Roll Pop at a run of the mill gas station in some podunk town out west. I was surprised to see a gas station carrying something as simple as a Tootsie Roll Pop, mixed in there with the more attention grabbing king sized candy bars. I probably had not had a Tootsie Roll Pop in over 10 years. I began my drive again, unsuspecting of the greatness of the discovery that lay ahead.
It was late. Past 2am. My only traveling companion was sound asleep in the seat next to me. Here comes the music. The stretching and re-adjusting, cracking my neck, and checking all the mirrors comes and goes. I’m still stuck in this gray seat, still stuck behind the wheel. Not another car on the road ahead, none behind, and the oncoming headlights of a fellow middle of the night traveler only come around once every ten or fifteen minutes. Blackness to my left and right, trusting in the headlights to help guide my way along the curvy highway, somewhere in Montana. Nothing interesting to even look at. This was bad. The yawning commences. So I take a sip of my coke and grab for a snack: the Tootsie Roll Pop gets chosen at random. I peel off the wrapper and pop the sucker in my mouth.
Nothing surprising about the taste. No sizzle like Pop Rocks, no changing flavors or colors. Standard, cherry taste. I began to lick this thing, and then settle on letting it sit in my mouth for a moment. But only a moment: I soon discover the great threat this poses to my image and self-consciousness, that I could get caught drooling with this thing in my mouth. The idea of sticky, sugary cherry red goo dribbling down my mouth as I drove just didn’t appeal to me. So after a moment, the pop has to come out of my mouth. It can’t just sit there dissolving slowly. I have to intentionally lick this thing to diminish its size and reach the treasure in the center. But licking a Tootsie Roll Pop is no simple matter. You can’t go too fast or you’ll rub your tongue raw. You can’t take your time or the drool could come, or worse, while holding the pop in one hand you could easily sticky-fy anything it might bump up against while out of your mouth. No, to be safe, you have to continue to lick this pop, mindful of speed and intensity, and you can’t drop it unless you want stickiness to infest your car seats and floorboards. Licking a Tootsie Roll Pop while driving forces you to focus your attention on this task. You can’t zombie out while licking a Tootsie Roll Pop. Your mind must be engaged, your faculties engaged, in order to both enjoy the pop and prevent the aforementioned sticky situations. My mind, taking in the road before me, must also simultaneously actively remember to continue licking the Tootsie Roll Pop. This process is not completed quickly, and unlike Mr. Owl, if you resist crunching into the pop’s center before licking the outer covering, it could take a very long time to finish one of these suckers. And if you count your licks? Your mind becomes engaged in an activity on a whole new level. There was no way that I was going to weave off that roadway or struggle to keep me eyelids propped open. The Tootsie Roll Pop was a real Charm.
(I later used the Tootsie Roll Pop on subsequent all-night drives around North America, so it’s been solidly road-tested. I went out a couple days ago and purchased a whole bag, and noticed they’ve introduced a new flavor! Watermelon. The fun continues!)
Speaking of being charmed… it would be charming if you’d consider giving me a call this Thursday night sometime between 11pm and 10am EST. I will be trekking all night, by myself this time, to Destin, FL. Talking on the phone also works wonders when driving late at night, so long as you’re not in heavy traffic or winding mountains. So give me a call. I’ll let you know how the Tootsie Roll Pops are holding up. And I’ll owe you a favor someday. ;)
Monday, August 29, 2005
you always wanted to know...
what my life was like at work... (which in my book begins when i wake up. waking up is work in of itself....)
*****
6:30am: phone alarm goes off. I turn it off. I’ve had about 6 hours of sleep but it feels like I was sleeping for 40 minutes. Groan.
6:40am: phone alarm goes off again. The dog is staring at me, waiting for me to get up. I return to a random dream that of course I can recall nothing of now.
6:43am: ok ok ok… I’m up.
6:44am: stare out window. No rain. Yet. Time to shower.
7:01am: I can’t find a non wrinkled shirt to wear. Thanks to me, who left all my laundry, some not entirely dry, crammed in a basket on my couch for 36 hours because I refused to put it away yesterday. I hate putting away laundry. Definitely not gonna do it on a Sunday.
7:11am: I turn on my tv to see if New Orleans went under yet. This is perhaps the third time I have turned on my tv all year to watch something other than a movie.
7:17am: Dang. How did it get so late? Technically I should leave my house in about 18 minutes. This never happens.
7:22am: I eat a bowl of cereal. The puppy waits for me to give him the leftover milk.
7:25am: I start ironing a shirt.
7:31am: brushing teeth. Stare out window. It’s raining. I will forego drying my hair.
7:33am: traipse out into the wet with the puppy. He doesn’t like it and quickly comes back inside.
7:37am: I grab my stuff, brown bag lunch, water bottle that I fill with ice cubes, cell phone, etc.
7:39am: Can’t find dog.
7:41am: Dog is hiding under desk. I coax him out, and he makes me feel guilty for ordering him to go to bed by hanging his head down low. I’m such a sucker for the puppy dog eyes.
7:46am: I’m sitting in my car, driving to work. “Nuisance” by John Reuben is on the radio.
8:00am: I pull in the parking lot. Half of the parking lot is blocked off as they are showing off the new racecar that Valvoline is sponsoring. I don’t really care.
8:03am: I’m slightly out of breath and my sore muscles from moving Saturday are reminding me they’re still sore after I walk up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor.
8:05am: computer on, I’m sitting down, pulling up email. I beat my co-workers to work for once.
8:10am: I read my email from gmail.
8:20am: I read my email from work. Check out the headlines from the Wall Street Journal from the daily newsletter.
8:32am: I flip through a couple blogs I check everyday. I make a comment to someone’s blog.
8:50am: I send a fax.
8:52am: I pick up the morning mail drop off.
8:55am: I’m back at my desk. Internet surfing commences.
9:25am: Quick thought flashes through my mind that I might have something to do this morning. I check my work calendar. The only thing scheduled today is “Jeans Day.” I had no jeans without gaping holes in them, so I wore my corduroys and sauconys today. Nothing further to do.
9:27am: I check my personal calendar. Make some notes on things I have to do this week. Back to the internet.
9:54am: I have now read articles about hurricane Katrina, the Iraqi constitution, checked the forecast, looked at random flickr.com photostreams, visited more blogs, contemplated commenting on a stranger’s blog and decided against it, and then became bored. I decide to start writing this log of my day, just for kicks. I need something to keep me busy for the next 7 hours and 6 minutes….
9:59am: I’m caught up on my day. Back to internet surfing. I decide I’ll try and be productive. So I will try to find a spot to go camping next weekend at Cumberland Falls, then maybe, just maybe, make my long awaited goal list for the next year that has, itself, been a goal on my to-do list for about 2 weeks now…
10:06am: My stomach is growling.
11am: I just finished reading an essay, was distracted once by a phone call for co-worker #1. The sky outside that I glimpse through the mini-blinds of my boss’ office is beginning to lighten. My goal list remains unwritten…
11:01am: I think circling the department is in order. My muscles are still sore…
11:08am: Announcement comes over the loudspeakers… strangely reminiscent of grade school… telling everyone to grab a free hot dog and see the cars in the parking lot at 11:30am. Tantalizing offer, really.
11:34am: Finished reading the Automotive Newsletter by email. Did you know that lightweight trucks will be expected to have 28.4 mpg by 2011? Further, did you know Honda is thinking of turning to V-8 engines? And did you know that Subaru plans on introducing a minivan? Doesn’t my job sound so exciting??
11:45am: The department’s intern stops by my desk and we talk about our respective weekends and tofu. She’s a vegetarian and hates it. I’m decidedly not a vegetarian and like it.
11:52am: a car’s engine is roaring outside. Hmm. Maybe I’ll check this out… on my way to leave the building for lunch. Errands on lunch include the bank and stopping at my parent’s house. Loads of fun.
12:57pm: back at my desk. Why did I decide to run my errands today? It was POURING rain. Go figure. It will probably be pouring all week thanks to Katrina. Wooha. My feet are excessively wet. And I didn’t even have the right computer disk with me when I ran my errand, so I have to run the errand again tomorrow. I’m such a dork.
1:08pm: wrote an email to a friend.
1:20pm: stumbled across more random websites.
1:55pm: make copies for co-worker #2. I am the collating, stapling, sorting, copying, paper loading goddess. What would they do without me?
2:08pm: I made a post to my blog, the first today, and this day-long log will be my second when I put it up. I’ve decided to end this log at 5pm, because really, a.) who really cares??, b.) I’m boring myself so I know how you must feel, c.) this is to exemplify the depth of my boredom and seemingly pointless occupation, whereas life gets juicy and interesting after 5pm… so those details would have no place on a blog about boredom plus, d.) I like to leave you in suspense wondering what is so fascinating about my life after 5pm that you don’t get to read about. If only you knew…
2:25pm: finished writing 2 emails… to friends. Received a new update from Automotive Weekly announcing the resignation of some CEO. Clearly it was a memorable headline.
2:42pm: chit chat with co-worker #3. Open up a Word document to start typing my goals…
2:44pm: … goals page remains blank. Boss approaches my desk. Requests I get him organized. This entails, this time, in making cover sheets and dividers with labels for information on Distribution Companies. Time to “get busy.”
3:38pm: Finish “getting the boss organized.”
3:40pm: Second mail run of the day.
3:52pm: make copy of report for co-worker #4. Return original report to executive fella across the hall. Oh-so-exciting. I think I took 40 paces total. I have now “done” (if chit chat counts) something for every co-worker in my department except one. Co-worker #5, Alan, remains aloof and quiet at his computer two cubicles away. He’s actually my favorite co-worker, so you can imagine my immense sadness he hasn’t asked me to update the annual plan percentages or scorecard database or run a trend analysis for him. *sigh.*
4:25pm: Complete my search for a flash drive for co-worker #1. Purchase flash-drive online.
4:43pm: finish a rough goal list. It is very poor and sorely lacking. Probably reflects my extent of clarity, which is also sorely lacking…
4:48pm: boss’ wife calls, take message for boss who has disappeared. Haven’t seen him in about an hour.
4:52pm: sadly, I realize writing this litany of inanities is what made this day pass by tolerably well, and with some interest, albeit minimal at best…
4:53pm: transfer call to boss’ voicemail.
4:54pm: let’s review. How many hours did I work today? Technically, I’m paid for 8. how many were hours were spent being productive for the sake of Valvoline? Mmm… somewhere in the neighborhood of 119 minutes, or slightly less than 2 hours. And that’s being generous. Wow.
4:58pm: Now, approximately 10 hours and 15 minutes later, after amassing over 1,401 written words which delineate the substance of my day, I am shutting down my computer and going home…. Stay tuned for the next installment of the exciting adventures of an administrative coordinator at the Valvoline World HQ: how to man-handle worthless jammed staplers and hormonal beeping Lexmark printers…
love these guys.
I can't wait until September 13th!
Speaking of which... anyone want to go to Cleveland or Chicago for a concert???
sadly, that's the closest they'll get to me in KY... :(
Friday, August 26, 2005
the nifty fifty
OK, this one makes me feel like I've accomplished a little more... ;)
create your own personalized map of the USA
i have a long way to go
my travels in the world.... i have a long way to go to see it all... ("all" obviously is impossible, but what's the harm in trying??) the question is, how to do it, who to do it with, and how the heck i would ever get that much money.
hmm.
create your own visited country map
now just imagine seeing it all by bike
did i mention eric gleysteen is my hero?
well not really. but he is a pretty cool guy, who trekked the US , Annapolis to San Fran, by bike (not as cool as round the world, granted). Most of it by himself. way-to-go my friend. i still can't believe he didn't take a camera with him.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
incase you follow the news...
sometimes the internet provides humor... and annoyance...
"The Bush administration tried to distance itself from Mr Robertson's views without upsetting the large Christian fundamentalist wing which the veteran evangelist represents..."
"represents"?!? i want to vomit. then again, the term "fundamentalist" also sometimes makes me want to vomit... i hate labels. but what do we expect from america's media but gross generalizations??
and did we catch this, hurricane katrina approaching miami... at least this season is on pace with, or ahead of, last year, which saw its fourth major hurricane, jeanne, on this day last year. praise the Lord i escaped the catastrophe insurance business...
and apparently NASA has had to dispel rumors that the planet Mars will be able to be seen the size of the moon come October... people! what are you thinking?? is ignorance of the laws of nature that grotesque as to think you could see craters on Mars with the naked eye? sheesh.
sometimes i really hate the internet.
now, off i go to do some real work: researching the lube industry in China.
yeehaw.
can you tell i'm bursting with fruit flavor excitement??
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
take me to the firing squad...
... i'm a traitor.
i just called semper fi, run by a former marine ("oo-rah!" as 2nd Lt Michael Moore would say....) to make an appointment to get Dart's oil changed.... OH WAIT A SECOND. I'm sitting at my desk at VALVOLINE when i make the call... whoops. i think only maybe 1 or 2 people could have heard me, but, all the same, that makes me a traitor. but guess what?? i don't care!! even with my 15% off employee discount, my oil change at Valvoline would still be $10 bucks more! nope. not gonna do it.
"Photography is the power of observation, not the application of technology."
i read that title on someone's website today. how true! photoshop might help you in some sort of art and expression... but i contend it's cheap photography. clicks of the mouse button, voila! patience is required with photography, a trained eye, not just a creative mind. all the same, i like many shots after they've undergone the photoshop treatment... but it's not my personal preference... even if i have been sucked into the digital world at last, I know I still plan on sticking with the original image for the most part. because that is the real challenge, to get it right the first time, in the moment.
i fell asleep last night with humid air, still hanging with dampness from the brief rainshower, blowing faintly into my room through 3 windows. i leave all the windows wide open when i sleep, because i turn the a/c off. (my bill was even higher than last month, when it had doubled, so i am really confused... i've cut way back on a/c usage! my apartment is conspiring against me, revenge for abandoning it in one short month.) it works ok, i sleep ok, that is, until 6am this morning - a good 30 minutes before my alarm is set to go off, mind you - when the garbage truck pulls up in the parking lot, conveniently, right below my apartment windows, and makes such a racket lifting up those massive metal trash bins, knocking it, 3, nay, 4 times to empty it, waking me up by the mere sound of it's squealing breaks, just so i can enjoy a rude disruption from my sweaty sleepy state when i only am getting 5 hours of sleep as it is.... well, i wasn't happy, to cut to the point. this happens every week, and i've never slept through it. and then i have to think, i am really sorry for those truck drivers. what guilt at disrupting sleep of hundreds of people!! not to mention putting up with the racket yourself.
the high point to today: dinner with the bowman's
low point today: the garbage man, and realizing that the public library is a pointless institution. their purpose? to provide books for the community. my problem? i'm part of the community and the library has NOTHING i need. what's the point of a library when everything you look for is either "lost" or "stolen" or "overdue" .... ?? what would my company do if all their products were stolen?? or lost?? they'd replace them!! but sadly, i am pretty sure the funds are lacking for such an enterprise. really, who cares about libraries these days? public libraries that is. their fan base i think is dwindling as americans find more joy in building their own libraries. the joy of writing in their books, reading them on their own time frame... greatly outweighs the checking out process, searching through the multitudinous stacks for the right copy, and then only to return it two weeks later. but i'm glad libraries are around... i just wish they fulfilled their purpose.
sigh. another pointless rant.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
huh, neat.
so. 5 minutes before i leave to trek out to my car in the rain, a co-worker (who i barely know, nice guy named Jimmy, great smile) calls and tells me he can't come to the luncheon, taking his son to the orthodontist or something. so he offers his umbrella to me. why he called me, why he offered his umbrella to me and not someone else, i don't know. but he did, and it was sweet. so i had an umbrella for myself and carpool companion Chitra.
and that was one huge umbrella. you felt like you were under a circus canopy.
i think that was pretty neat.
other exciting moment at work this week: making a co-worker happy by surprising her with some homemade hummus and pita bread, made personally by myself and friend Rachel. I felt really complimented that she liked it so much, but i can't take all credit: credit is due to Sarah Chavez who gave me the basic recipe that I just tweak a little here and there. It is some really good hummus.
Ironic, isn't it, that the best moment at work was completely and totally un-work related??
me? a professional?
i definitely didn't watch the weather channel this morning. in fact, i never watch the weather channel. i never watch anything. (i think the news/t.v. has only been turned on once this year, and that was when the Discovery space shuttle was going to be taking off. and whenever the Philly Eagles had some game way back when, i watched it on my t.v.)
so it's raining. pouring. and i get to hike out to my car in 10 minutes to go on a business luncheon.
where's my rain jacket? yep, at home.
where's my umbrella? yep, at home.
normally i wouldn't mind, you know, getting soaking wet. except that at a job there is the assumption you are supposed to be presentable. supposed to be together. supposed to act like an adult and not romp around in the puddles with every flight and fancy. social mores constrain me.
i remember a friend once commenting that she was amazed people expected her to act like an adult... no kidding!
let's face it: i am not ever going to be that well-put-together-20-something, i-just-bought-this-outfit-(what-a-bargain-of-only-$90.00!) and i-spent-45-minutes-doing-my-hair and i-work-out-at-the-gym-every-other-day and i-won't-be-caught-dead-without-makeup-on and i-don't-care-if-these-heels-are-killing-me kind of gal.
Nope. not ever.
PRAISE THE LORD.
as my friend Neal said (i hope he doesn't mind me quoting him...) "somedays I barely feel qualified to dress myself!" (in other words, total amazement at those of us who are 20-something mothers or mothers-to-be or mothers-wanting-to-be.) and I'll just say... yep... it's a miracle sometimes i look presentable enough to show up at work. i still wear collared shirts passed down from my mom from the 70s. i still wear shirts that aren't quite faded enough to be exiled from the workplace that i've had since high school, and i still even have and wear sweaters that i got when i was in 7th grade.
confessions of a fashion-mind-less, i-love-my-12-euro-Greek- (odd-sunspotted-leather and support-less, cushion-less, dust-attracting all the same), i-feel-like-i'm-living-in-the-time-of-pre-Ascended-Christ-sandals gal!
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
waxing jocundity
"But as I look back, I realize that my gaze has been so fixed on each goal that much of the months and days in between have become a blur. I was living life in fast-forward, just getting by until I reached the next summit." -quote from Relevant magazine article online
and for me, i have no summit to look for in the future. so everything is blurry, perpetually blurry. The great challenge: to stop the fast-forward and savor the moments despite how banal they seem... The secondary challenge: to make conscious effort to pursue what i want.
perhaps i do have summits: they consist of coffee dates with friends, trips to new places, late night jogs, ... they are the daily events that exist in the realm outside the norm, events to look forward to. what about now, the ever fleeting ever here now?
aha. abide. for now, abide.
i am constantly flipping out, constantly counseling myself, constantly returning to the same truths, and then inevitably will flip out again. i think i'll just laugh at myself. and because i'm laughing i want to erase this entire post. but i won't... for now.
Monday, August 01, 2005
something about last night.
The pavement eases under my footsteps, glides by as I glide on.
A breeze lilts on by, but the humid air clings to my skin
Climbs down my throat, caught in each breath.
Twilight traps the sky, stars twinkle in space above and in my eyes
Looking forward lose their sparkle. A cloud rumbles in, my mind reacts,
Snatches at it, but intangible cloud clammers and coughs, capturing cognizance
In the grey. Stale breath in my lungs, disgustedly I exhale, and like an asthmatic wheeze
I suck in my smoky passions and reign in enflamed thoughts.
Chomping at this bit, digging into my stamping soul, mane clinging to soaked head,
Tossing indignation. Inhaling greyness, puffing lungs, leaving hunger grumbling
Inside. Daring to dive through the dark, despite fearsome and formidable foes,
Spite spit at resigned resolutions, and taking in earnestness
The hunger cloud and spitfire spirit, feeble offerings to my galloping soul,
Searching for solace and sparkle to light my eyes again.
Embers exhumed, fearfully feeding flames for glorious gander into divine designs. Resistent to fatigue and failure. Gravelly ground glides by as I gristle on.