Author: gr4c5

I write. I read. I cook. I run. That's me, in a nutshell.

Motley Crue Mantra

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Captured
I am homesick. There. I said it. Home. Sick. Sick for Home. Home. Home. There’s not a soul alive who can connect the dots and understand where I’m coming from right now. This ache started slower than slow. So slow I didn’t even notice it until now. Where I want to be isn’t a location on a map. Doesn’t have coordinates to guide anyone anywhere, especially me. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. I can’t, so I won’t.
After a Sunday conversation with my mother I felt the stars start to align. The universe started to right itself, because that same day someone else said “Let’s go to The Island this summer.” Kisa looked at me and smiled. That was coincidence enough. I couldn’t have dropped all other plans fast enough – even if I tried. Doesn’t matter what was on my plate, what had priority previously. All bets are off at the mention of home home home. In the case of San Diego, well, let’s just say that’s not taking up so much of my plate anymore…kinda pushed to one side…but we’re still going.

Now we have a house lined up. The dates are set, the check is set to be in the mail. I can already picture the porch. I get dibs on the hammock. A great sunset and even better glass of redred wine. Mine, all mine. Let’s have a feast of laughter. Feed me lobster on the rocks. After I’ve had my fill then, and only then, rock me to sleep by the salt salt sea. I’m ready. I’m on my way, home sweet home.

Bullets and Books

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I work in a building that could either have bullets or books on any given day. It’s supposed to have books, but more often than not, we find evidence of books and bullets. This time BBs…better known as ball bearings shot from an air gun. Here’s the weirdest thing – evidence suggests the shots came from outside the building yet, a CO2 cartridge was found inside the building. Were the kids having a game of BB tag, shooting from both sides of the glass? I can remember that game from my own childhood, drawing blood on some occasions. But, I was 10. We’re talking collegiate here. This is completely different. What in the world was going on?
If the walls of where I work could talk I’m sure I would hear some great stories. I’ve heard rumors the building is haunted. I like that idea. Some say they hear the high heels of a woman walk above their heads. I say it’s a man, his namesake displaced… so he wanders. I’ve heard theories the building is at war with itself. I believe that. One side of the building can get up to 100 degrees while the opposite end stays cooler than 50. One side is dark and depressed, the other light and happy. Definitely a personality conflict. Feng shui consultants would have a field day. We have Christmas trees up all year long. A few years ago we found a bullet lodged in a wall. From the hole in the opposing window we could track the trajectory, but it didn’t make sense (much like the BB gun evidence). The shooter would have stood at least 35 feet high, or used a step ladder. If anyone had been in the room at the time of the shooting the bullet would have whizzed by high above their heads. It didn’t make sense.
But, nothing in my building makes sense. Not the crazy colors on walls, not the leaks in the ceiling. Ghosts that walk the halls, kids that shoot holes in windows and someone who steals signs with the word ‘oral’ in them. Some days are more confusing than others, but, the odd thing is, there’s nowhere else I would rather be – it feels like home. Oddly enough.

Carter Clay

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Evans, Elizabeth. Carter Clay: a Novel. New York: HarperFlamingo, 1999.

The LibraryThing review:
The premise of Carter Clay is a guilty conscience. Instantly, I was brought back to Charles Dickens because same could have said for Great Expectations. In Great Expectations, Pip becomes a gentleman through the generosity of a convict Pip was forced to help earlier in his life. When he first finds out, he is disappointed his benefactor isn’t someone more appropriate to society’s standards. In Carter Clay there is a similar parallel. Carter Clay is a homeless drunk who accidentally plows his van into a family, killing the father and seriously wounding the mother and daughter. His guilt and sense of debt drive him to be close to his victims, to care for them as penance. Additional factors, such as the man who wants to kill him, complicate the plot.
While I was impressed by the way Evans tells the story, weaving past and present through the different voices, I didn’t find her writing quotable. Nothing grabbed me in that way. Character development was my favorite. From flashbacks you got a sense of how everyone used to be before the accident. But, those flashbacks are subjective to human emotion and the desire to remember things a certain way which may or may not reflect reality. I found the psychology of what has or hasn’t changed for each character very interesting.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the chapters “Florida Fiction” (p 90) because most of the plot (and accident) happens in Florida, and “Teenage Times” (p 217) because Jersey, the daughter paralyzed in the accident, is a central character.

What’s with Anne?

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Anne FrankI don’t know why, but my Anne Frank blog is getting mad traffic. Is it because it was tagged as “not a review” on LibraryThing? I don’t think so. It was getting hits before I drew attention to it’s reviewless state. I have no clue what’s going on with Anne. Like over 1,150 hits since it was first written. Is that normal? Especially for something “not a review”… Especially something coming from my head?
If I really think about it, the same thing happened with a blog called Snot. Innocently enough I wrote about running in 12 degree weather and the interesting thing snot does when it leaves the warmth of your nose and tries to trickle down your ice cold face. It was a weird blog because all I could really focus on was sirsy between my ears and the ice cold snot on my face. I got into detail because I was fixated on how crazy the mucus was making me. For some unknown reason Snot became so popular I got a complex about its existence. I ended up changing the blog’s name and hoping it’s popularity would die off. It’s not that I didn’t want Snot be so wanted. I just didn’t want to feel so exposed. The whole thing was sort of freaky. Same thing is happening with Anne…only this time I don’t want to shut Anne up. I like what I’ve had to say for her. I’ve liked how people have responded to it. The popularity just a little weird.

Revisiting Me

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Finished Thoughts
Every once in awhile I will reread something from yesteryear and ask myself how far have I come from the person who wrote this? How far away from me am I now? Do I still carry myself with me? It’s like taking my own temperature, reading my own pulse. I like to go back just one year to the day, or two years to the day. Never random until recently; lately, I find myself reading my own stats page – that “top posts and pages” list. Know what I’m talking about? I’ll see something vaguely familiar and curiosity gets the better of me (as it always does). Like the blog called Kill. What was that all about? I don’t remember writing anything called “Kill” so, …was that really me? Then I’ll click on it and have to read it like a stranger. To tell you the truth, I’m fascinated. I find myself asking myself what made me write that? Who was I mad at? and why did I have to write so cryptically angrily that I can’t even remember my own rantcode? WTF? From there I go on to try to figure out what made this particular blog come to the surface. Why is it on the list? It cracks me up, truth be known. Take the search for Tyler for example. “Drum Save” came back up for air because someone searched for Tyler. Go figure. I’m grateful because without that search, in truth, I never would have revisited me.

Great Expectations

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Dickens, Charles. Great Expectations. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Believe it or not, I had never read this before. Not in high school, not in college, not in fun. Go figure. It’s a classic which translated (back in the day) into the assumption of being boring. It was written in 1861 which translated into practically a foreign language (ekerval?). All that translated into me being narrow minded. Great Expectations is wonderful. It opens with Pip (our young main character) encountering an escaped convict in a field. The convict threatens bodily harm if Pip can’t produce some food and, of course, a file. Why was Pip targeted? His brother-in-law is a blacksmith. Of course he is going to have instruments strong enough to tackle something like…leg irons. So, it starts out pretty exciting and not at all unrealizable.

Here are some of my (early) favorite quotes from Pip’s life with his sister and her husband, Joe:
“She concluded by throwing me – I often served as a connubial missle- at Joe, who, glad to get hold of me on any terms, passed me onto the chimney and quietly fenced me up there with his great leg” (p 7).
“My sister having much to do, was going to church vicariously; that is to say, Joe and I were going” (p 20). While Pip’s sister is seen as cruel I cannot help but find humor in both these passages.
After Pip decides to become a gentleman he makes an observation that struck me: “So, throughout life, our worst weaknesses and meannesses are usually committed for the sake of the people whom we most despise” (p 206). Estrella, his love interest, has another observation akin to Pip’s: “I’ll tell you what real love is…It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter…! (p 227).

The LibraryThing review:
“A classic from Charles Dickens. All of the characters are so well developed that the reader cannot help but drawn into their individual plots. From Pip, the blacksmith apprentice turned gentleman in the making (and the hero of our story) to Miss Havisham, a wealthy woman locked away in self-induced seclusion. “

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust and the chapter “A Dickens of a Tale” (p 72). It’s funny that Pearl laments about Dickens having to be a high school mandatory read that students had to “choke down” because many of the reviews I have read recently about Great Expectations mention having to read it in this manner.

March Is…

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March is my month of hope. Hope for an early spring. Hope for brighter days. From childhood I remember a felt banner my mother had hanging on our chimney. It said something like “hope perches in the soul and sings and never stops at all. ~Emily Dickinson” Obviously abreviated from the longer poem…But, of course, when I think of the word Hope I think of one of my all time favorite movies, Shawshank Redemption. Morgan narrates the ending, talking about hope for his friend and ultimately, the whole point of the movie, hope for himself (something he didn’t have but needed to find within himself).
But, anyway, I digress. I’m here to talk about March’s list of books and the hope of finishing the list for this month.
March is:

  • The month Ohio became a state (reading The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison)
  • The month Florida became a state (reading Carter Clay by Elizabeth Evans)
  • The month Nebraska became a state (reading Dalva by Jim Harrison)
  • Russell Banks’ birthday (reading Continental Drift)

I have been chosen for one LibraryThing Early Review book:

  • Wrack & Ruin by Don Lee

February Was…

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I can’t believe I’m writing the February Was blog already! Where did the month go? Here’s the rundown on how reading part of the month went:

For LibraryThing:

  • The Jerusalem Diet by Judith Besserman
  • Dancing to Almendra by Mayra Montero
  • The Translator by Daoud Hari

For BookLust:

  • American Century by Harold Evans (finished)
  • His Excellency by Joseph Ellis (finished)
  • Defiant Hero by Suzanne Brockmann (finished)
  • Baby Sister for Frances by Russell Hobart (finished)
  • Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (finished)
  • Bright Young Things by (not read – didn’t get it in time. Save for next February)
  • Bridget Jones’s Diary by (added thanks to a friend)

For myself:

  • Sole Sisters by (gift from a friend)

So, a total of ten books. I have to say Great Expectations was probably my favorite of the Lust books while The Translator was my favorite Early Review book.

That Young

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When I was little I thought the world revolved around an ocean. I thought I was brave if I went beyond the rocks and out to what I considered the sea. Little did I know the rocks were more to be afraid of. Little did I know of their drowning potential beneath the waves. This is what I thought of danger.

When I was little I thought hugs and kisses were hidden in chocolate. Frosting disguised as an i’ll always love you treat. I thought if I ate real slow and savored every bite that meant I loved you back. And we could make it last forever. Little did I know about the human heart. Little did I know about how you felt. This is what I thought of love.

When I was little I thought I knew. I would row my boat upon the waves, sunburnt shoulders, calloused fingertips, sand and salt in my hair. Unafraid of the rocks. I would eat my chocolate slow. Sticky fingers, candy lips, chocolate chin. Unaware of your heart.

To be that young.

Loss for Words

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“Scary thought. Old habits die hard. Old habits don’t die easily. Whatever. You get the picture. I don’t change. No matter how much I want to.”

I wrote that sitting in a Saturn dealership after getting someone fired over three years ago. Good things happen for a reason. If —–never got fired I never would have met —–…Weird to think that life works in that way, especially when you don’t know it will actually be that way. Or something like that. It’s not that I wanted —- to get fired. It’s just when you end up doing someone else’s job all the time you start to think maybe they should pay you for it, or at least stop pretending “they” are doing all the work. Whatever. It came down to just that. I stopped covering for someone and suddenly the cover was blown. It’s hard to do the work when you don’t know how in the first place. You can only be the great pretender for so long. Someone’s gonna figure you out sooner or later.

What I discovered on that cold day nearly three years ago is that I’m a pushover. I care too much. Like I said then I’ll say today: some things never change.
 

Baby Sister for Frances

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BabySisterForFrancisHoban, Russell. A Baby Sister for Frances. New York: Scholastic, 1992.

Who doesn’t remember this one from their childhood? Originally published in 1964 this was a standard in my young life. I don’t remember if my parents bought this for me in preparation for my sister’s arrival, but I was certainly old enough to be skeptical (and more than a little jealous) of the little bundle everyone kept cooing over. This book would have made sense for that reason alone.

LibraryThing Review:
This is childrens’ book classic. Told from the point of view of a badger, Frances is jealous of her new baby sister, Gloria. Gloria seems to be distracting enough that mama badger is forgetting to do the laundry and shop for groceries. As a result, Frances feels neglected and needs to be noticed. Accepting a new sibling can be hard on anyone, even badgers.

There must be hundreds of self help books out there, all tackling the tricky question of sibling rivalry and what to do when a new baby comes along. All parents need to do is read A Baby Sister for Frances and they’ll be reminded of how the older child often feels diminished, neglected. Hoban hit that one on the head. How Frances “runs away” is hilarious. I know I did the same thing – only I think I didn’t run away long enough to be missed!
My favorite part is when Frances “calls” her parents from under the dining room table then comes “home” singing a rhyme. Very cute.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the chapter “Russell Hoban: Too Good To Miss” (p 113).

Don’t Get Out Much

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I’m a snob when it comes to some sites and my active “participation” (for lack of a better word). Take Flickr for example. I don’t peruse any other pictures except my friends. Aside from that I don’t search for much except pics of my hometown. Looking at someone else’s holiday doesn’t interest me unless I recognize the place. I rarely comment on other people’s snapshots and I don’t belong to many “groups” or place myself on any maps.

Then, there’s that Library Thingy. People have tagged my library as “interesting” and have invited me to become a member of different groups. I’m flattered by the interest and I always accept the group invitations. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t be flattered because I don’t seek out interesting libraries of others. Maybe I shouldn’t accept invitations to join groups because I never take part in their discussions. I’m like the silent partner. I’m there but I never contribute. Truthfully, I’m waiting for the moderators to kick me out for lack of conversation…or something.

Same goes for myspace. I got a space. Got my picture and my profile and everything…even got “my” song. Except the whole thing’s private. No one can see it unless you’re already a “friend.” I don’t seek out comments, messages, profiles, pictures of people I don’t know, or think I might know, or even the ones I think I want to get to know. I occasionally return messages to my “friends” and pray they didn’t take it personally if I didn’t leave them a glittering “love ya lots” comment on Valentine’s Day. I’m just not that into it.

With all of these sites here’s what happens: I log in, I do my thing and I log back out again.
But. But, I have to tell you about this”revelation” I had. It happened here, on WordPressSpace and it involves my sudden, yet rewarding, participation. To be honest, I think I have a total of four friends who actively blog on this site. No, I take that back. Make that two friends because two left. Wait. One friend had more than one blog. Does that count? Nevermind…Anyway, my “blog surfer” page was looking a little anemic so I decided, for the first time ever, I would use that little arrow on the top righthand side of my blog. You know, the “go to next random blog” feature. I think I arrowed past four or five “god is great” blogs, three or four “watch my kid grow” blogs, at least eight political blahblahblah blogs, two or three knitting blogs (and here I almost stopped until I realized how hardcore these knit nuts really are), until finally I found writing so amazing I stopped to hang out, even scrolling back through the archives. Inspirational stuff. I have to say it, I love the way this person writes. Absolutely love it. I haven’t had the guts to find out if its a him or her who has so much talent, but you can bet I added this mystery to my blog surfer.
For once I explored outside my page, my involvement with a site. In return I found something rewarding. I should get out more often!

ps~ since writing this I have added another blog onto my list of interesting. I took my own advice and found a funny stranger.

Translator

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IMG_0486Hari, Daoud. The Translator: a Tribesman’s Memoir of Darfur. New York: Random House, 2008. (expected publish date 3/18/08)

This is the third Early Review book I received within a month. It’s the final reason why I put the BookLust challenge on hold for February. All in all, I’ve reviewed a total of nine books for the ER program with a 10th on the way.

Anyway, back to the review book. Written so, so, so beautifully I could have quoted a passage that moved me on every single page. Here is a sampling of powerful and compelling quotes: I could write a blog about each one!
“You have to be stronger than your fears to get anything done in this world” (p 11). This reminds me of my good friend RT.
“It is hard to know where grace comes from” (p 26).
Ahmed’s arm on my shoulder was the gentleness of home” (p 48).
The best way to bury your pain is to help others and lose yourself in that” (p 63).
“You have to find a way to laugh a little bit each day despite everything, or your heart will simply run out of the joy that makes it go” (p 89).
“Poverty generously provides every man with a colorful past” (p 144).
“But what, not counting family, is more important that friendship?” (p 170)

There was humor in the words, as well:
“He looked the way British look when they are upset by some unnecessary inconvenience” (p 7)…and this is while our author hero has a gun to his head!
“to not get killed is a very good thing” (p 9). So now you know he got out of the aforementioned dilemma!
“These are the cruel commanders? It looks as though they eat all their prisoners” (p 148). This being said while overweight Sudanese generals make their way over to where Hari is being held prisoner! The LibraryThing review:

Despite the humor and lyrical language quoted above there is real pain in Hari’s story. This is not a CNN stale report or an 12 line article hidden on the back pages of the New York Times. This is a real, first-hand, in your face account of the atrocities happening in Darfur. Hari, working as a translator for the English speaking press, knows it all too well. After escaping the massacres he does only what a true hero and humanitarian would do, he goes back to Darfur to help journalists spread the word to the rest of the world. How he is able to recount vivid horrors of his community, his people, his family with such grace and compassion is beyond me. Even when he is captured and tortured there is a calm to his recounting. Thanks to Daoud Hari the world is learning…and trying to help.

This was probably the most influential Early Review book I have ever read. It has prompted me to register to run a 5K in Albany, New York this spring. In the words of David Bowie, “do whatever you can, however small.”

Lining It Up

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(Now & Zen Yoga: photo by Chris Szarek)

Back when I was training for the LLS Alton Bay half I was striving for The Trinity: a good running plan, a good eating plan and a good yoga plan. I’m one of those nutty people that earnestly believes that all these things go together. Especially yoga and running – I’m convinced they go hand in hand. Think about it. Let’s take the run first. Some people say a good run is mind-clearing. Others say it’s a good chance to relax. Okay – so the “relax” factor might be stretching it in terms of physical, but think about it from the mental for just a sec. I don’t know about you, but when I run, there is a cadence to my breathing – one deep count in, two long counts out. Slow & steady with the mantra “must beat cancer” right behind it. There is a rhythm to my running that parallels my practice in yoga.

Now let’s move onto a good yoga session and how it relates to a good run. Tight hamstrings, tight hips, tight anything is bad, bad, bad for running so… what better way to stretch it all out than with a session of yoga? Go on any running site (take Runner’s World, for example). I bet there is an article or two (at the very least) about good stretching. The Y word might even be thrown around a little. I know for a fact Runner’s World has a video of three yoga moves designed to free the hips, loosen the quads and stretch the calves.

My point of all this preaching is not to get runners to become yogis or vise versa. My point is all about me, myself and moi, actually. I wanted to outwardly vent about lining it up – the yoga, the running & the eating well. Only now I’ve added a fourth component so I’ll have to rename the Trinity as the Fantastic Four: running, yoga, eating well and…Hello Mr. Bowflex – strength training!

His Excellency

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IMG_0571Ellis, Joseph J. His Excellency: George Washington. New York: Afred A Knopf, 2004.

In honor of Presidents’ Day and Washington’s birthday. The LT review: Ellis writes in an easy, flowing style. Almost conversational in tone, Washington’s life comes alive as the pages turn. While not a great deal of evidence of Washington’s personal life has survived, Ellis does a fantastic job filling in the gaps with Washington’s military career and political rise to power. The text is supplemented by a few pages of photographs – mostly portraits Washington had commissioned of himself.

A few of my favorite quotes that make Washington seem less historical and more human. First, a  description of Washington as a 20-something year old man: “He was the epitome of the man’s man: physically strong, mentally enigmatic, emotionally restrained” (p 12).
A commnet on Washington’s unique military order: “…when a ranger…is killed in action, continue his salary for 28 days to pay for his coffin” (p 26).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Founding Fathers” (p 91). Last month I read about Benjamin Franklin from the same chapter. Note to self: Self, don’t read anything from that chapter in March!