The wind was hot and the talk of tornado warnings and high winds made me want to skip out of work early and run down to the lake and take pictures of blowing sands, bending trees, and roaring waves.
But I'm at my desk getting stuff done and realizing that my camera may not survive that onslaught, knowing that I only have a few more minutes here. I look out at the grayness of the sky, the sheets of rain, and I long for my apartment full of warm light, a cup of tea, some good music, and one of my dad's frayed flannel shirts, missing the conversation of roommates but hoping to find some inspiration in the peace and maybe start painting again. As much as I enjoy the company of other arty types, I do my best work alone.
For some reason I've been really wanting to hear some Ani Difranco, and the pallor of the day brought this song roaring back to me. I tend to be more ideologically square than my musical taste alludes to, and there's no album of hers that I can listen to all the way through but the way she plays a guitar and grabs some of those emotions hits me.
"regretfully
i guess i've only got three
simple things to say:
why me?
why this now?
why this way?
with overtones ringing
and undertows pulling away
under a sky that is grey
on sand that is grey
by an ocean that's grey"
"what kind of paradise am i looking for?
i've got everything i want
and still i want more
maybe some tiny shiny key
will wash up on the shore..."
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
haterific
There are many times when someone is angry at you for a legit reason, like you not using your turn signal or giving them the wrong change, or forgetting something important.
And then there are other times when it is just so absurd that even my occasional tendency to shoot my mouth off doesn't even happen because the accusations are so crazy I'd only be lowering myself to respond to them.
And this has been happening a lot, mostly involving grown adults old enough to be my parents acting like children or teenagers, embodied in the form of meddling parents, catty colleagues, bitter customers who know they can be nasty and get away with it because we know we'll get written up if we talk back, or those who just have nothing better to do than spread the hate.
And then I'm coming home up my street when the lady driving the SUV in front of me stops suddenly and gets out screaming that I never learned to drive and that what I'm doing "isn't funny" and I don't know what I did at all and it seems like she's just trying to pick a fight and I look confused enough that she eventually gets back in her car and drives away. I don't want her to see that I live there so I cut down an alley and of course see her at the stoplight a block over where she proceeds to give me more dirty looks and my friend who's in the car with me is just as confused as I am.
I'm just glad she and these other people don't own guns because this world just seems to be getting more crazy. And it just makes me laugh because it's so absurd. Can't make this stuff up.
And then there are other times when it is just so absurd that even my occasional tendency to shoot my mouth off doesn't even happen because the accusations are so crazy I'd only be lowering myself to respond to them.
And this has been happening a lot, mostly involving grown adults old enough to be my parents acting like children or teenagers, embodied in the form of meddling parents, catty colleagues, bitter customers who know they can be nasty and get away with it because we know we'll get written up if we talk back, or those who just have nothing better to do than spread the hate.
And then I'm coming home up my street when the lady driving the SUV in front of me stops suddenly and gets out screaming that I never learned to drive and that what I'm doing "isn't funny" and I don't know what I did at all and it seems like she's just trying to pick a fight and I look confused enough that she eventually gets back in her car and drives away. I don't want her to see that I live there so I cut down an alley and of course see her at the stoplight a block over where she proceeds to give me more dirty looks and my friend who's in the car with me is just as confused as I am.
I'm just glad she and these other people don't own guns because this world just seems to be getting more crazy. And it just makes me laugh because it's so absurd. Can't make this stuff up.
Monday, October 25, 2010
fall leaves and fish heads
My sister has her first ultrasound photo, and I can see this little body, with its tiny arms and legs and think about how I was once that tiny and yet smaller, and while I've never experienced what she is seeing right now, it gives me the shivers to think of the creation of life and how beautiful and strange it is.
I was so many places this weekend, spending a day away with some girls from church to alternately contemplate and hang out by the lake, stopped home to see my sister, walked around in the woods where the leaves were fragrant and the canopy of forest glowed like stained glass.
I did another English tutoring session and ended up having dinner with the family whose kids I used to tutor and who gave me a huge piece of fresh-cut goat meat to show their appreciation. The baby of the family is now running around and showing off his gymnastic skills, the kids are showing me what they're learning in school and I'm trying to explain words and cultural things I take for granted, and as customary of east African hospitality, I get a can of Sunny Delight and dinner, which is always good and this time is a spicy stew that has what turns out to be little fish mixed in with the vegetables.
She's a fantastic cook and I know that if I don't finish it, it'll be considered deeply rude so I bury the little fish with their eyes and fins inside a pile of rice and spoon it quick like I'm eating sushi and I can't help but think of this song.
The kids want me to sleep over and come back every day, and I can't do that realistically but I do need to see more of them.
And tonight, I'll be attempting to fashion beautiful and useful things out of clay and then babysitting two hilarious little boys for a friend of mine while she and her husband go out with some old friends. I haven't babysat in a long time, but it should be fun.
I was so many places this weekend, spending a day away with some girls from church to alternately contemplate and hang out by the lake, stopped home to see my sister, walked around in the woods where the leaves were fragrant and the canopy of forest glowed like stained glass.
I did another English tutoring session and ended up having dinner with the family whose kids I used to tutor and who gave me a huge piece of fresh-cut goat meat to show their appreciation. The baby of the family is now running around and showing off his gymnastic skills, the kids are showing me what they're learning in school and I'm trying to explain words and cultural things I take for granted, and as customary of east African hospitality, I get a can of Sunny Delight and dinner, which is always good and this time is a spicy stew that has what turns out to be little fish mixed in with the vegetables.
She's a fantastic cook and I know that if I don't finish it, it'll be considered deeply rude so I bury the little fish with their eyes and fins inside a pile of rice and spoon it quick like I'm eating sushi and I can't help but think of this song.
The kids want me to sleep over and come back every day, and I can't do that realistically but I do need to see more of them.
And tonight, I'll be attempting to fashion beautiful and useful things out of clay and then babysitting two hilarious little boys for a friend of mine while she and her husband go out with some old friends. I haven't babysat in a long time, but it should be fun.
Friday, October 22, 2010
best of the blotter 29: fall shenanigans
DISTURBANCE, PONDEROSA LANE: A female resident of Ponderosa Lane was having trouble with raccoons in her attic and heard that the critters don’t like loud music. Her solution was to place loud speakers in the eaves of her attic and blast them with loud music. The speakers, however, were outside her home, and the loud music disturbed her neighbor who complained to police Sept. 29.
The homeowner told police that until she had the raccoons at bay, she had planned to continue playing the loud music. Police told her to keep the volume level down, and she complied.
THEFT, INDUSTRIAL PARKWAY: A John Deere sign, valued at $2,000, was reported stolen from a company sometime between 5 p.m. Oct. 5 and 7 a.m. Oct. 7.
ANIMAL COMPLAINT, RIDDLE ROAD: A man complained of coyotes in his yard Oct. 6.
He had two bags with deer parts hanging in his orchard to deter deer. Police advised him that the coyotes were attracted to the bags.
BOWLING BALL, W. LIBERTY: A caller told police that there was a random bowling ball resting on the sidewalk in front of a W. Liberty St. restaurant around 2 p.m., Oct. 8. An officer responded and took the unattended bowling ball into property.
COMPLAINT, DETROIT AVENUE: Police were unable to locate a man reportedly leaning on the side of a building eating tacos at 9:13 p.m. Friday. The man was reportedly intoxicated.
The homeowner told police that until she had the raccoons at bay, she had planned to continue playing the loud music. Police told her to keep the volume level down, and she complied.
THEFT, INDUSTRIAL PARKWAY: A John Deere sign, valued at $2,000, was reported stolen from a company sometime between 5 p.m. Oct. 5 and 7 a.m. Oct. 7.
ANIMAL COMPLAINT, RIDDLE ROAD: A man complained of coyotes in his yard Oct. 6.
He had two bags with deer parts hanging in his orchard to deter deer. Police advised him that the coyotes were attracted to the bags.
BOWLING BALL, W. LIBERTY: A caller told police that there was a random bowling ball resting on the sidewalk in front of a W. Liberty St. restaurant around 2 p.m., Oct. 8. An officer responded and took the unattended bowling ball into property.
COMPLAINT, DETROIT AVENUE: Police were unable to locate a man reportedly leaning on the side of a building eating tacos at 9:13 p.m. Friday. The man was reportedly intoxicated.
Monday, October 18, 2010
everyone knows this is nowhere...
My dad and I took a roadtrip to beautiful Belmont County to visit relatives and get out of the city and it was the perfect day to drive around listening to "Everyone Knows This is Nowhere" and "The Joshua Tree," as I'm wondering why these two records feel so American when they're not, but they sound so good and epic when driving through tiny towns under huge blue skies as the colors turn to yellow and rust.
I wonder how these towns hold on, and I see creeks where the water is rusty and hills that have been carved out by strip mining, empty farmhouses with torn curtains waving in the breeze, old cars rusting in back yards.
We stopped and visited relatives and I heard stories about working in coal mines, the way that things have changed since then, and caught up on the family gossip, since my grandma's passed away, no one knows what everyone's up to anymore since she was the link between us in Cleveland and them in Maynard.
A lot of people weren't home, so we didn't end up staying overnight like we planned, but it was good to see the aunts, uncles, and cousins that I did know, and to end up in places that I've never been to before as we took detours and back roads so steep and narrow I wondered if we were going to get stranded and also how my relatives drive their big old Cadillacs and Crown Vics up and down these steep gravel roads on precarious hills.
We stopped by to visit a few of my uncles but nobody was home. I'd never been to some of these places before, but my dad knew every watering hole and uncle's house including Joe's where he jokes about his six Cadillacs that rust in the yard along with all the ephemera he's picked up over the last few decades.
The drive home was beautiful and I got to have some great conversations with my dad and indulge my artistic id by taking photos of everything I could snap from the car windows. I'd love to get down there more, to be somewhere so different and yet so familiar, the place where my roots were and where I came from.
I crashed on a friend's couch that night when I came home and then painted my new kitchen and moved more stuff over. I couldn't stay over that night and didn't want to go home so I studied for my Latin American History midterm at a coffeeshop and walked around Lakewood talking to the partner in crime on the phone before tiring myself out sufficiently.
My dad and adopted uncle and a couple friends of mine helped me move the big stuff that morning, I got free tickets to see "The Screwtape Letters" that afternoon and then picked up my former college roomie to go see Greg Dulli do an "intimate set" at the Grog Shop, which made me realize that I am still more of a fan of the full band setup (even though the violinist/cellist was amazing) and that his fanbase has a surprising amount of very drunk and obnoxious people.
I mean, really, it's the first time my personal space was blatantly violated, the women (I say "women" because they were older than me) were trying to throw themselves at this aging rock icon with a serious self-hating streak, the dudes were completely wasted and couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and I was a bit cranky and sore from having moved all day and seen enough dysfunction in the past few months to really not want to hear about more of it.
It's back to the daily for me after two days off and a weekend of moving and movement, trying to impose order on the jumble of boxes and bags, adjust to living upstairs and taking into consideration that the floors are thinner than I thought, and the little kids living below me need to go to bed early, that my gas doesn't get turned on until Thursday when I can be home and therefore I have no heat, hot water, or a working stove, so I pile up the covers and my grandma's feather bed, eat takeout, and wait for things to start to feel a little more stable than they do right now.
I wonder how these towns hold on, and I see creeks where the water is rusty and hills that have been carved out by strip mining, empty farmhouses with torn curtains waving in the breeze, old cars rusting in back yards.
We stopped and visited relatives and I heard stories about working in coal mines, the way that things have changed since then, and caught up on the family gossip, since my grandma's passed away, no one knows what everyone's up to anymore since she was the link between us in Cleveland and them in Maynard.
A lot of people weren't home, so we didn't end up staying overnight like we planned, but it was good to see the aunts, uncles, and cousins that I did know, and to end up in places that I've never been to before as we took detours and back roads so steep and narrow I wondered if we were going to get stranded and also how my relatives drive their big old Cadillacs and Crown Vics up and down these steep gravel roads on precarious hills.
We stopped by to visit a few of my uncles but nobody was home. I'd never been to some of these places before, but my dad knew every watering hole and uncle's house including Joe's where he jokes about his six Cadillacs that rust in the yard along with all the ephemera he's picked up over the last few decades.
The drive home was beautiful and I got to have some great conversations with my dad and indulge my artistic id by taking photos of everything I could snap from the car windows. I'd love to get down there more, to be somewhere so different and yet so familiar, the place where my roots were and where I came from.
I crashed on a friend's couch that night when I came home and then painted my new kitchen and moved more stuff over. I couldn't stay over that night and didn't want to go home so I studied for my Latin American History midterm at a coffeeshop and walked around Lakewood talking to the partner in crime on the phone before tiring myself out sufficiently.
My dad and adopted uncle and a couple friends of mine helped me move the big stuff that morning, I got free tickets to see "The Screwtape Letters" that afternoon and then picked up my former college roomie to go see Greg Dulli do an "intimate set" at the Grog Shop, which made me realize that I am still more of a fan of the full band setup (even though the violinist/cellist was amazing) and that his fanbase has a surprising amount of very drunk and obnoxious people.
I mean, really, it's the first time my personal space was blatantly violated, the women (I say "women" because they were older than me) were trying to throw themselves at this aging rock icon with a serious self-hating streak, the dudes were completely wasted and couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and I was a bit cranky and sore from having moved all day and seen enough dysfunction in the past few months to really not want to hear about more of it.
It's back to the daily for me after two days off and a weekend of moving and movement, trying to impose order on the jumble of boxes and bags, adjust to living upstairs and taking into consideration that the floors are thinner than I thought, and the little kids living below me need to go to bed early, that my gas doesn't get turned on until Thursday when I can be home and therefore I have no heat, hot water, or a working stove, so I pile up the covers and my grandma's feather bed, eat takeout, and wait for things to start to feel a little more stable than they do right now.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
acquisition / reposition
These past couple months have made me better at learning how to do things on my own. I don't know what the future brings as far as life and love, and I've given up on trying to even figure out all that, and just want to keep growing and learning even when it's hard.
I went to see a friend's band play down the street last night and had a great time just sitting there by myself letting the sound wash over me. They said it was the worst show they've ever played, but the guitars sounded so beautiful and it was just cathartic to hear. I'm looking forward to checking out Greg Dulli on Saturday night too, indulging in my love of all things angsty and 90's and I hope he does this cover...
This past week I signed my lease and got my key and moved anything I could fit into my little Toyota... boxes and chairs and did I really have that many paintings and blank canvases, all these dishes and CDs, why are books so heavy? I know people are willing to help me move but since this is going to be temporary, I don't want to ask too much of people. And it was just easier and gave me something to do, to not sit at home and eat alone thinking of all that needs to get done.
I did my last big purge six months ago so there was nothing to get rid of except some coffee mugs I'm giving to a friend whose house was broken into and everything including ceramic mugs you can get anywhere was stolen.
My downstairs neighbors are a family I've known awhile, who have cats, two little boys, and two husky mixes. I still have a porch to sit on and a little balcony off the back. A kid my landlord knows is crashing there and cleaned up the floors for me and started painting the kitchen so it smells all chemically lemony fresh. I haven't even unpacked and it already feels like home.
Me and my dad are making a road trip down to the Ohio/West Va border tomorrow, with my camera, a stack of CDs, a two liter bottle of Coca-Cola, ample supplies of apples and tortilla chips, to see his relatives, hear stories, hang out and eat way too much food. I need a change of scene, and the hills outside of St. Clairsville with all the fall colors sound incredibly inviting right now.
I never planned to be moving out in six months or expected to be on probation or that a lot of things in life would have worked out the way they did, but really, I have everything I need and more...
I went to see a friend's band play down the street last night and had a great time just sitting there by myself letting the sound wash over me. They said it was the worst show they've ever played, but the guitars sounded so beautiful and it was just cathartic to hear. I'm looking forward to checking out Greg Dulli on Saturday night too, indulging in my love of all things angsty and 90's and I hope he does this cover...
This past week I signed my lease and got my key and moved anything I could fit into my little Toyota... boxes and chairs and did I really have that many paintings and blank canvases, all these dishes and CDs, why are books so heavy? I know people are willing to help me move but since this is going to be temporary, I don't want to ask too much of people. And it was just easier and gave me something to do, to not sit at home and eat alone thinking of all that needs to get done.
I did my last big purge six months ago so there was nothing to get rid of except some coffee mugs I'm giving to a friend whose house was broken into and everything including ceramic mugs you can get anywhere was stolen.
My downstairs neighbors are a family I've known awhile, who have cats, two little boys, and two husky mixes. I still have a porch to sit on and a little balcony off the back. A kid my landlord knows is crashing there and cleaned up the floors for me and started painting the kitchen so it smells all chemically lemony fresh. I haven't even unpacked and it already feels like home.
Me and my dad are making a road trip down to the Ohio/West Va border tomorrow, with my camera, a stack of CDs, a two liter bottle of Coca-Cola, ample supplies of apples and tortilla chips, to see his relatives, hear stories, hang out and eat way too much food. I need a change of scene, and the hills outside of St. Clairsville with all the fall colors sound incredibly inviting right now.
I never planned to be moving out in six months or expected to be on probation or that a lot of things in life would have worked out the way they did, but really, I have everything I need and more...
Saturday, October 9, 2010
transient
We had a family party last night, everyone converging at my parents' house for fried chicken and pumpkin pie and hanging out and afterwards I crashed on a friend's couch because it just felt better being there. It felt good to laugh and just be with others.
It's hard for me to be in the apartment all alone, and I have to admit that sometimes I cry for no coherent reason, and I've just been out everywhere I can be to be away from the jumble in my living room and all the brokenness it represents. I went shopping with my sister, aunt, and mom, and the only thing I could think of looking at all these things was the pile of life's possessions sitting in my living room.
I moved out in 2007 loading everything in the back of the Sexy Saturn wagon, and now, well, I have furniture and stuff. I can't imagine enough stability to really bother with anything nice and it just doesn't interest me even though I am excited that my dad is passing on his giant 70's era stereo speakers that his brother built and covered with aqua green fabric.
And fall is beautiful especially when the light is golden and the weather is one last gasp of beautiful before the inevitable onset of rain and cold. Edgewater with its waves and trees is so perfect for contemplation as I can sit there and not feel weird for just staying there awhile.
Thankfully tonight wasn't as lonely as it could have been. My friend that I reconnected with a couple days ago needed some help with his English 101 assignments so I packed boxes while he did his homework at the kitchen table and I had to remember how to structure paragraphs, explain sentence structure, and all the writing I did in college as we end up in layman's linguistics as far as the mixed-up-ness of Kiswahili and English and he talked about how the longer he's here the more he feels like he's losing his connection with home.
And I'm here, in that purgatory of waiting and longing, wondering what I even want anymore besides God because that's about the only sure thing. Everything seems to fall apart so quickly and I'm getting to the point where I wonder if it was ever together to begin with.
It's hard for me to be in the apartment all alone, and I have to admit that sometimes I cry for no coherent reason, and I've just been out everywhere I can be to be away from the jumble in my living room and all the brokenness it represents. I went shopping with my sister, aunt, and mom, and the only thing I could think of looking at all these things was the pile of life's possessions sitting in my living room.
I moved out in 2007 loading everything in the back of the Sexy Saturn wagon, and now, well, I have furniture and stuff. I can't imagine enough stability to really bother with anything nice and it just doesn't interest me even though I am excited that my dad is passing on his giant 70's era stereo speakers that his brother built and covered with aqua green fabric.
And fall is beautiful especially when the light is golden and the weather is one last gasp of beautiful before the inevitable onset of rain and cold. Edgewater with its waves and trees is so perfect for contemplation as I can sit there and not feel weird for just staying there awhile.
Thankfully tonight wasn't as lonely as it could have been. My friend that I reconnected with a couple days ago needed some help with his English 101 assignments so I packed boxes while he did his homework at the kitchen table and I had to remember how to structure paragraphs, explain sentence structure, and all the writing I did in college as we end up in layman's linguistics as far as the mixed-up-ness of Kiswahili and English and he talked about how the longer he's here the more he feels like he's losing his connection with home.
And I'm here, in that purgatory of waiting and longing, wondering what I even want anymore besides God because that's about the only sure thing. Everything seems to fall apart so quickly and I'm getting to the point where I wonder if it was ever together to begin with.
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