Thanks 2 U

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musicIt’s the day before my first BackInTheSaddle race. A little 5k-er…in the snow (at least that’s what the forecast was predicting). I’m a little nervous. It’s o n l y 5k, but still…This marks the beginning of my road back to the run. Mentally, it’s a big, huge, colossal deal for me. Mentally, it’s all that I have. Having said all that, I think conditions are perfect. The race is in the same park where I trained for the half. I know it intimately. I love it well. Friends have gotten married there. I’ve seen Natalie perform there. I have so much history there…it’s also the same place where I first felt my knee give out. It’s where I fell to the ground. I know the exact piece of pavement I crumpled on. Half of me prays we avoid that spot altogether, but other other half wants to run over that exact spot with a fukc you vengeance, stomp on that spot…and keep going.

I asked people for input on favorite songs. I made it obvious that I want to make each list into a special mix just for that person, but what I didn’t make clear is that I want to take certain songs from each list and create my very first race mix. Two people emailed me privately with their choices, someone else sent me a text message…and my husband thought the task too daunting to just rattle off 10 songs. As he says, “I really need to think about that.” So, his choices will come later…much later – something for the next run.
So, here’s the 3/15/08 Bill’s Challenge 5k Run Playlist:

  1. We Didn’t Start the Fire – Billy Joel (Manda)
  2. Higher Ground – Stevie Wonder (Ruth)
  3. We’re Not Gonna Take It – Twisted Sister (Sarah)
  4. The Scientist – Coldplay (Heather)
  5. Paint it Black – Rolling Stones (Greg)
  6. Hotel California – Eagles (Rebecca)
  7. These Are Days – 10,000 Maniacs (ME 🙂 )music

My third motive for asking for music was to discover new music. I have some really, really creative people in my life and I am always looking for new stuff to listen to. I love the process of discovery, especially when the education comes from my friends. So, thank you, thank you, thank you for chiming in!

Stay Away from Gainesville

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Stay away from Gainesville, Florida…or better yet, someone find George E. and muzzle him. George writes for the Gainesville Sun and believes Central Florida should “pull the plug” on public libraries in his county. He goes through the usual blatherings “no one needs a library anymore…we’ve got the Internet!” Yes, you do, Mr E. That and a whole bunch of garbage. Here’s a little exercise for you – Let’s say you have a not-so-manly problem of ED and you want to research the problem. So, you get yourself on Google and “research” your anatomy to figure out where the “dysfunction” comes from. Or doesn’t. Sorry about that bad choice of word. Check out how many hits Google was able to return to you in whatever seconds. [Google likes to brag about that sort of thing. Not sure how useful it really is when no one looks beyond the first two pages of search results…] but, anyway. Back to the exercise. Now go to Google Scholar, that is, if you know how to find it, and conduct the same search. What’s the difference? How much porn did you get with the first search? How much do you really want to be looking at people doing it while you can’t even get it up? Can you evaluate your sources accurately? Do you take advice from just anyone (because that’s what you’re doing if you can’t tell who’s sponsoring your search results)? Do you even care? Obviously not if you can’t see my point.

I like the woman who laid it all out in her comment: what her “library” taxes cost her per year compared to her savings when borrowing (for free) books, journals, dvds, music, cds, and audio books. The real kicker is when she mentions the research help she got from a real, honest-to-goodness librarian that saved her husband’s life. Priceless.
Someone else said Florida’s culture is going down the drain (well, they called the culture “backwater” which to me sounds equally unappealing). I don’t know that much about the Sunshine State, but I do know complaints about Florida’s lack of culture is nothing new. I have a friend who’s dying for a little culture in her little corner of sunshine.

Why do I rant about this? I’m sick of trying to defend my profession. There. I said it. I have a vested interest in all libraries and not just my own. I admit, the word ‘library’ is archaic. But, in this ever-growing wealth of cyber information someone needs to stand in the mire and sort it all out. That’s what professional librarians are paid to do. I have to wonder what Ben Franklin would say if he met Mr. George at a dinner party and was told “you don’t need a library for books, just to go the Salvation Army!” Since I’m not in the mood to promote George’s editorial let me know if you want to read it for yourself. I’ll forward the link….

Stepping off the soapbox for today.

oh yeah, and have a nice day.

Dalva

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Harrison, Jim. Dalva. New York: E.P. Dutton, 1988.Dalva

What I wrote on LibraryThing:
There are two elements that make this story compelling: the characters and the sweeping shadow of history under which they live. Dalva is supposed to be the main character, but her story is told through the richness of the other characters. Michael, the alcoholic professor bumbling his way through Dalva’s history in attempt to reach tenure; Duane, Dalva’s teenage half Sioux love; Dalva’s mother, Naomi; Uncle Paul and the diaries of her great-grandfather, the missionary who first came to Nebraska.

There are more quotes than this, but here are my favorites:
“You are at an age when you are not to yourself as you are to others” (p 51).
“I rehearsed my entire life and heard my heart for the first time” (p 56). Who hasn’t done this at least once?
“It’s not what turns one on, but what turns one on the most strongly” (p 61). Good explanation for the fickle.
“There was a loud noise that turned out to be my yelling, which I managed to do while running backwards” (p 115). Just a really funny image.
“In these semi-angry moods or after she had a few drinks she owned the edge of a predator” (p 122). Aren’t we all?
“Nebraska strikes one as a place where it never occurs to the citizens to leave” (p 126). I think that’s why I don’t know of anyone from Nebraska.
“Some wise soul said that grownups are only deteriorated children” (p 257).
“My mind so clear it shivered inside” (p 296).

The one thing I didn’t care for was the sense of false advertising I got from the description of the book – “this is the story of Dalva’s search for her lost son who was given away for adoption.” Out of a 324 page book it wasn’t until page 221 that Dalva has a serious dialogue about finding her son. Up until then it isn’t mentioned barely at all. That only leaves 103 pages for the story of searching. In truth, I found the first 221 pages were spent explaining Dalva’s past and the important people in her life. They all have stories to tell and fascinating ones at that!
BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust actually twice – once in the chapter “The Great Plains: Nebraska” (p 108) and again in “Men Channeling Women” (p 166).

The Music Game

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I have a proposition to make. I’m exploring the idea of running on emotion. Right now I’m running by heartbeat. Bass and drums, bass and drums. Driving beats that match footfall. “Last night” I ran to Paint It Black five times because it got me where I wanted to go. That’s nice and all, but I want more. I need more. I found that I get more “fired up”, more “pumped” to run when there is a strong emotion behind it. Does that make sense? I’m looking to explore the idea of running angry (since I have so much of it, naturally), running happy, running with purpose. I’m thinking running angry will be a good substitute for energy since I’m less likely to have a surplus of that thing called energy, ha!  ipod
Last night I was discussing the “angry” songs with kisa. I think he was surprised to hear Gravedigger by Dave Matthews is on the list, but when he asked “1940 to 1992?” I knew he understood completely. It’s the line that gets me every single time. What’s The Matter Here? by 10,000 Maniacs goes without saying. How could any song about child abuse not get you pissed off? Uncomfortable by sirsy is another great one.

So here’s a question for you: if you could pick 10 songs; 10 all-time favorite, YOUR greatest songs ever, what would they be? How about if there were rules attached like one had to be from the 1980s (‘cuz I’m an ’80s child), one had to be a love song, one had to be personal (for whatever the reason), and one had to outside your comfort zone. Could you pick 10 and only 10? If you can do it, lemme have ’em!

Here’s my all-time 10 (don’t laugh)ipods

  1. These are Days ~10,000 maniacs
  2. Take Me To the Top ~ Loverboy
  3. Paint it Black ~ Rolling Stones
  4. Bulls on Parade ~ Rage Against the Machine
  5. Holiday ~ Scorpions
  6. Please Let Me Be ~ sirsy
  7. Thick as Thieves ~ Natalie Merchant
  8. Pretty Polly/Diver Boy ~ traditional murder ballads
  9. Grace is Gone ~ Dave Matthews Band
  10. Island Woman ~ the Merrymen

I think it’s pretty obvious where my inspirations are hiding. 80s song, love song, personal song, out-of-comfort-zone song. They’re all there. Those of you who know me will be able to spot them in a second. I doubt there will be any surprises. Your turn.

Compassionate Hate

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“I try to incorporate compassion into my everyday life because without trying, nothing in this world will ever change.” ~ Now & Zen Yoga

 Some of you might recognize this quote as a comment from one on my blogs, but as I said before, it’s worth repeating. I lose my compassion about 50 times a day. Drop it somewhere. Forget about it. Impatience, intolerance, insensitivity – all these things find and take control of compassion’s lonely place. Like the impossibility of holding water in my hands I find it difficult to hold onto good thoughts, deeds and gestures throughout an entire day. They slip away undetected as bad moods settle in; goodness is chased away by anger, frustration, irritation. Where does this come from and why is it easier to be this way?

I was at a family function not long ago when my table companion leaned over to me and whispered ” —‘s put on weight.” I found myself taking furtive glances. I couldn’t really tell. Suddenly angry I snarled, “her dress is beautiful!” knowing my companion hated her own. Was I trying to defend the weight-gainer or hurt the observer? Maybe both. I couldn’t tell. I do know I was caught between two kinds of cruelty.

This morning I was on my way to pick up bagels. I could have gotten the supermarket variety – six of one kind, half dozen of the same. Instead I went gourmet and bought flavors like apple cinnamon, garlic and herb, honey walnut, and blueberry. Fancy cream cheeses on the side. It was good to be generous. On the sidewalk sat a crumpled, bearded man. More blue than blueblue eyes stared up at me. I dropped a five in his can and wordlessly walked away. I couldn’t help wondering how he would spend it. Wine? Cigarettes? Or something stronger? Something only a syringe could deliver? Was it callous of me to think that way? Why did I think I just donated to his uselessness? Why couldn’t I think something better of his begging? 

Oddly enough, I have gotten help through someone else’s blog. If you are really interested, click on February 15th’s post titled “Happy Day.”

oh. and have a nice day.

Wrack + Ruin

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Lee, Don. Wrack and Ruin. New York: W.W. Norton, 2008

My March Early Review book.Here’s the LibraryThing review:
Funny and witty. Sarcastic and insightful characters who are well developed but have a sense of mystery about them. Great one-liners. It’s hard to believe it takes place over one long Labor Day weekend because so many different things happen. The plot is complicated with many different fast moving subplots. Take this one to the beach because it’s fun.

I love it when the cover of a book takes me in, makes me wonder. My cover of Wrack and Ruinis of a oversized, plain white dinner plate cracked completely in half. On the plate, surviving the plate’s demise is a single brussel sprout, whole and healthy. Behind the gaping crack of the plate is, presumably, Lyndon’s oceanside brussel sprout farm.
Aside from plot, the characters fascinated me. Where did Lee come up with these people? There are more than I can mention, but here are some of my favorites:

  • the pot smoking, dreadlocked, amputee surfer.
  • the aging, kung fu expert, alcoholic Asian actress.
  • the fiery, impulsive, twice divorced mayor of Lyndon’s town who dabbles in small business ownerships
  • her equally fiery daughter who wants to be a musician & get laid before college
  • the shiatsu woman who smells of chocolate ice cream
  • the prissy, germaphobic, narrow-minded brother

Then, there are the funny catch-phrases that definitely caught my eye:

  • “garden-variety curmudgeons” (p 3). I picture a whole bunch of plants with sour faces…
  • “she was raising an asshole” (p 78). What mother says that?
  • “I’m a little underemployed these days” (p 132). Hmmm…can that be a new check box between employed and unemployed on a survey?

All in all, this was a great book. I would like to read it again because there are details I’m sure I missed!

Just Plain Poppi

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IMG_0644My husband’s screen name is Poppi. He wears his hair in two Space Oddity pigtails on top of his head and a tight, black skull tee shirt that shows off his navel and the twins. He sneers at the crowd and jumps around a lot. He looks hot…for a girl. I’m talking about his persona in the game Rock Band. I’m not sure if he plays bass or lead because all guitars look the same with Rock Band. But, but, but, he’s super cool. IMG_0636I wanna be him. If only to be that cool wearing the clothes. When he goes on tour, playing places like Los Angeles or Tokyo, he earns threads for his closet. Big chunky boots, fishnet stockings with safety pins, short army fatigue skirts, hip-hugger tight glitter jeans, big hoop earrings, metal tees with strategically placed holes, and metal studded wrist bands. He has a whole closet full of cool clothes. Rocker outfits. Really cool outfits only really cool people can wear.
I wanna be Poppi but, I’m out of my league.IMG_0637x

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.