the RedFish

Making an Office-Before

2011-05-03T11:15:00.007-04:00

So, Ben and I wanted to make our 3rd room an office, with desks that our knees could actually fit under, and club chairs that weren't clearly from the heart of the 90's.

We started this in January, I think? So, it's been a long, slow process. We are still not quite finished, but I'm pretty proud of our progress.

I decided to reupholster the chairs my parents gave me. That turned out to be way more involved than I thought, but I'm going to be freaking proud as all get out when I'm finished.
I couldn't have done any of this with out Ben, who made our desks and shelves, and Amanda and Aly, who are helping me redue the chairs and decorate.
Amanda and Aly are just insanely talented at thrifting, redoing, remaking and everything in between and around!

I'll be posting after pictures, and pictures of the chairs in progress, but for now, the pictures are mostly before.

Trying different colors for the wall.

Not sure why I didn't move the 80 blankets and other junk out of the way to take pictures, but it will make for even better "after" pictures.

The Chairs:

Making cushion covers was pretty tedious. The second one fit better, for sure.

I didn't get a good picture of the ottoman before, but it looked just like the chairs, so.

From Seedlings to Leaflings

2011-05-02T12:49:00.012-04:00

When I was younger, my mom would plant flowers every spring.
She would lay mulch, buy flowers, plant them, water them, and tend to them.
She would always ask if I wanted to help (or tell me to help). But, 90% of the time, I would say, "Nooooo, thank you!" and watch TV instead.
Wow, what a perfect little city kid!

I do wish I helped my mom more, not only because I would have actually learned something besides the way Danny cleans his vacuum cleaner with a portable vacuum cleaner and how Uncle Jesse does his hair, but because planting is such a wonderful experience. And it's wonderful to do this with another person.

I've really enjoyed planting from seed with my husband, and then eagerly waiting to see that first little bit of green peak up through the soil. It's incredibly satisfying and keeps me in awe of the Creator.

I started taking pictures of what we've planted, so I can remember the growth that happens.
Hopefully I'll keep it up, tracking the new life in my yard as well as in my spirit.

Mustard Greens, Rhubarb Chard, Multicolored Chard.

Endive, Tatsoi Greens, Asian Greens, after a few days.

Endive, Tatsoi Greens, Asian Greens, after a week or so.

Squash grows ridiculously quickly. Watermelon, Cayenne Pepper, Broccoli, Summer Squash.

Cilantro didn't do well last year, but when we were raking this little bed to prepare to plant, there was a cilantro plant completely under the soil that survived all winter!? (it's the plant in the background of the picture).

This is sage we grew from seed last summer.

Dramatic/Emo

2011-03-26T23:51:00.004-04:00

Here's another one I found in my sketchbook from November, 2006. I can't believe how fast time has gone by. It's great/funny/weird to see this stuff now...to revisit it. Thank God for words and the fact that there are an endless possibility of them.

And then I passed my former self, traveling in a portal on a highway of dreams from one-sided, three-way mirrors to monotonic tears of broken glass. I smiled and waved at myself as I swerved into a ditch and centripetally flung myself into a petri-dish in which I grew mold faster than the bread that was broken to save my life.
I turned down my music but didn't stop for myself because the wind had too much of a bite for hanging around to help.
The north wind curled its fingers around my bumper and coaxed me to pedal the metal and high tail it home.
Some people blame it on their arrogant ancestors, slaying their brothers for an acre of soil and a cup of tea. But I like to blame it on Cain, because I was his hand in the tall grass as eyes pierced with disbelief ricocheted right off my heart like an arrowhead from a steel breastplate.

Old

2011-03-26T23:41:00.004-04:00

Something I wrote in my sketchbook about 5 years ago and recently rediscovered:

A time will come when I won't remember day to day occurrences; when details vivid to me now will dissipate in the wind like the leaves in this season; when all the things I cry about now, I will laugh about in the future; when all things so grave in my mind will seem like petty child's play and all that will be left will be a block of time in which I will say, "When I was your age..." but only remember patterns of change and random times of extreme joy, absurd pain, or seemingly unimportant seconds.

that cloud

2011-01-17T22:41:00.006-05:00

It seems to me lately
A cloud, cruel, innately
Has taken up residence in my head.

It's calm and collected,
Its mission perfected:
To make me ever aware of its homestead.

Its belly darkens grayer,
Releases rains heavy and heavier;
Cats and dogs don't do it justice.

'You don't belong here!' I tell it,
'There's only room for one zealot!'
So it dormant lies for a solstice.

But it snidely reminds me
It'll be back for afternoon tea
And perhaps stay for a midnight storm.

I declare, 'We won't let you win!
With your dark eyes and puffy chin,
And your cleverly placed last words!'

New Years Resolution

2011-01-06T12:01:00.010-05:00

I ended up making a New Years resolution, which I thought of for all of one minute.

The new years party at our house found people asking each other about resolutions, and I concreted mine by mentioning my idea to at least 10 people at once. No turning back now!

What's interesting is that what started out as a briefly entertained idea is now taking new shape and meaning for my life.

The resolution is: I will not buy any article of clothing for a whole year.

And there are 2 reactions I can imagine from the people I know:

1. (From someone who only buys clothes when the ones they're wearing are falling apart, and they therefore literally NEED to buy a pair of pants or a shirt, or they don't care about trends, or they get no joy in buying something new when they're feeling down):
"Really? That's going to be hard? Wow, okay. . . whatever, good for you! (you trendy, needy spoiled girl).

2. (From people in the middle who enjoy buying new clothes every once in a while, are not obsessed with trends, but like to be somewhat fashionable, like to look cute, and get bored with many of their clothes after about half a year):
"That's awesome! Good for you! That will be challenging, but it will be good to learn self-control."

(Number 2 is the only reaction I've gotten, but anyway. . . )

All this to say that my reasons for doing this have morphed a little, and I'm feeling more excited about what it means.

2 things really affirmed my idea and expanded it's scope:

1. An article my friend, Jess posted on my Facebook wall after I told her:
http://www.burnsidewriterscollective.com/social/2007/05/no_clothes_for_a_year.php
From which I decided on these constituents:
-I will not buy anything I can wear on my body, including shoes, socks, underwear, scarves, mittens, sunglasses, jewelry, pants, shirts, etc.
-I can sew anything I want during this year.
-I can accept gifts.

2. A sermon that my pastor at City Church gave about anxiety and provision.
He talked about the fact that if we aim for the Kingdom of God, we live counter-culturallyto the world.
He said the biggest threat to living Christianity today is consumerism. The idea that I must have this right now! This is a way of life that runs counter to Christianity. We underestimate the power of marketing, advertising, and consuming. Most churches minister to 30% of the culture. The other 70% is controlled by marketing. Society is being ministered to by product consumerism. It becomes about filling a void in our lives. It should be a Kingdom of God, not a kingdom of goods. There's always the Rockefeller mentality: How much is enough? 'Just a little more.' The only way to seek the Kingdom of God is to believe that he provides and that we are more treasured by God than we could ever know.
Then he mentioned 4 things Calvin says about keeping consumerism under control: Bear abundance moderately, know how to go without things patiently, be a good steward of what God's given you, and live within your means.
'Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.'

Now, I suppose comparing all this to giving up clothes for a year might sound mightily arrogant or over-thought.
But I think what it boils down to for me, is that this is something tangible that I can change in my life right now.
It is a step I can make that will hopefully carry into the way I view my life in general; that reminds me that God provides, that I can't always have what I want when I want it, nor should I; that I can be more creative with what I have, and that I need so much less than I think I do.

So, that's my extremely long, probably redundant explanation of a choice I'm making this year.

Peace for real,
Audrey

Yeppers

2010-12-12T01:20:00.006-05:00

Wow, it's been a while since I posted.
I don't know why that surprises me.

In the past, in the heart of college, I posted very often, though then it was a sign that I wasn't doing well, and my emotionally-heightened self needed the faux-rush of putting something very personal on the internet, if not to keep myself in a digitalland check from some of the scaries I wrote about.
(Plus, I mean, it was MySpace)

I don't know why I need to keep with that trend.
I could post because I'm doing well.
(Booooooooorr-ring)
But part of me things blogging is annoying and weird and dumb, so that's part of the reason.

That said, nuff said.

Christmas:
Things I'm excited about:
1. Ben's present, the present I'm giving him.
2. My parents coming here the day after Christmas.
3. Andrea and Amanda's presents, even if I am a little "not confident" in my work.
4. Not tutoring for a month.

Things that suck in general:
1. Anxiety
2. Stomachaches
3. Viruses
4. People that think they're never wrong or think that what they're saying makes perfect sense when it makes no sense, and then they arrogantly, yet subtly, laugh a little laugh when you say they're not making sense, because it's so clear to them that you're "silly" but so clear to you that they're more than "silly."

Merry Christmas, Jesus. Sorry your party's so lame. (The Office)

I love you, everyone.
Audrey

Aches

2010-07-28T13:10:00.000-04:00

Sometimes the best feelings are aches.

A pain is sharp and penetrates like a knife.
An ache starts from the inside and captures every bit of flesh, like a dull expansion and inflation that massages my heart.
An ache can be the most hurtful beauty ever felt. It's a cruel passion that demands my every experience.
Aches are born from memories. But this kind of ache can not hurt so well without love.

Love is the bottle that feeds the ache, until it grows so strong that it pushes out tears from my eyes and chokes up the oxygen from my lungs.
It's the memory reels that I play behind my eyes. It's my father's smile, my friends' laughs, my lover's embrace.
Born out of a song, or a smell, or my husband's eyes -- I ache.

I take a hard swallow that lasts longer than usual.
It's a deep-ached, quivering swallow, because I'm forced to digest every bit of love I've ever known, every sweet memory, every kind deed, every blessing, every compliment, every kiss, everything I never deserved, every peaceful moment, every breath taken by every person I've ever loved.

That's the perfect ache: The unswallowable, iron-clad, love-laced earth in my throat.

It's personal, but I have nothing to hide.

2009-10-08T00:10:00.004-04:00

Ben and I have essentially decided to go to Grace Center Church in Franklin, where James and Abby are the Sr. High Pastors. We individually felt God wanted us there, and we confirmed the feeling yesterday.
I now look forward to going to Monday night young adults fellowship, "Emanate," led by Allyn and A.J. Jones.
It's hard to imagine myself in high school, going to Evangelical Christian School and Riveroaks Reformed Presbyterian Church, ever attending, ever wanting to attend, a church as "charismatic" as Grace Center: teaching about "The Anointing," healing the sick, getting "words of knowledge," raising my hands in worship, etc.
Really? Am I really "that" girl now? (or at least becoming "that" girl?) I see now that these things are hardly a choice; they come when your idea of the Holy Spirit changes, when you understand that he really does dwell in you, speaks to you, gives you overwhelming feelings of joy and grace. Not that he didn't before, I just didn't receive it the same way.
I would never change my highly indoctrinated younger years (part of me really misses it) but the gradual change from that "me" to the "me" that actually believes the Holy Spirit heals people everyday through those in whom he dwells, is an amazing growth.
It makes me so excited that I want to tell all the Christians I know, get them in the same mindset (thought I know not everyone is destined to think exactly as I do, thank goodness) because I see what an incredible transformation that could take place within the Christian community; what a change we could bring to America's idea of Christianity.
And it makes me more excited to share Jesus with nonbelievers. I just have a different take on it now than I have before. I actually feel more confident in telling people, more directly filled with joy and enthusiasm when it comes to exclaiming the greatness of God. (It's great when you can tell someone how great something is and not have a ping in the back of your mind, asking you if you really believe that).
I still take what's thrown at me with a grain of salt, but I know that the Holy Spirit has so much more for us than we could ever know or understand.
Last night as I lay in bed, waiting to fall asleep, I felt a joy and peace that I don't know if I've ever felt about the Trinity.
I found myself smiling and wanting to jump out of bed in worship or in proclamation of Jesus to everyone I know.
The power of words and the reality of spiritual warfare seems more alive to me than ever before. I've felt the depths of the dark side of the spiritual world, heavy on my body and mind, but I now see more brightly than ever the side of light.
Jesus' name is power, and the angels are probably baffled at our indifference and apathy.

HAIKUS created while chatting with Mark 3 years ago.

2009-09-09T12:51:00.003-04:00

cold fingers take rest
on my shoulder while i sleep
angel or demon

slight twist of the wrist
brings the happiest of things
be a skipping rock

the sun on my back
soaks into my pale white flesh
burns me through and through

if i were a leaf
i would land on your back porch
crushed beneath your feet

let's pretend

2009-09-09T12:42:00.003-04:00

i like to pretend like i know what i'm doing.
i like to pretend like i'm busy, like the world will pause for me.
i like to pretend like anything i do matters.
i like to pretend that my life has meaning.

But most of all, i like to pretend like i'm pretending that this is all for nothing.

Because not matter how hard i smash him down, the Holy Spirit always manages to get his word in.
Shouting, though i usually hear it as a whisper, that it's not a lie, that the plans he has for me are great, that he will give me the desires of my heart, that i must wait on the Lord, that i must rest in him, be still and know him.

i can't shut him out, not this time.

tsunami mind

2009-09-09T12:35:00.003-04:00

deeper than the pain of death
is the heart's breadth.

wider than a whale's jaw
is the reach of a racing mind's paw.

seven miles above the earth
aliens, hung up above, hover.

backwoods' ignorance is such
that a flood would not touch.

the wolf preys at night,
he has your children by the throat.

tighter than a vice's grip
is he making you slip.

quicker than a grandfather's life
do you tumble without advice.

the undercurrent has you by the toe
the only way to go is down.

i hope your door is painted red.

2009-07-18T02:54:00.005-04:00

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/bloggers/2271155/posts

Bound for Glory

2009-06-12T01:27:00.013-04:00

--More from Woody. Chapter XII, "Trouble Busting:"

(Leading up to this excerpt, Woody was having people of all kinds come to see him at his shack, because he had the recent reputation of giving good advice, or rather fortune-telling. Many called him a prophet and paid him up to one whole dollar for a visit; but Woody just saw it as talking, and he told them he never claimed to be no prophet or nothin' fancy.
I think it's such a ridiculous and humorous situation, but strangely profound.)

One day a whole crowd of ten or twenty oil field workers and farmers came to see him. As he said, "All kinds of cars were parked around my little old shack. People lost. People sick. People wondering. People hungry. People wanting work. People trying to get together and do something."
Anyway, the leader of the group asks Woody:

' What do you think about this feller, Hitler and Mussolini? Are they out to kill off all of the Jews an' [n-word]? '
I told them, 'Hitler an' Mussolini is out to make a chaingang slave outta you, outta me, an' outta ever'body else! An' kill ever'body that gits in their road! Try ta make us hate each other on accounta what Goddam color our skin is! Bible says ta love yer neighbor! Don't say any certain color! '

[...the men respond] ' This old world's in a bad condition! Comin' to a mighty bad end!'

'Mebbe th' old one is, ' I yelled at the whole bunch, ' but a new one's in th' mail! '

[...] ' Men! Hey! Listen! I know we all see this same thing--like news reels in our mind. Alla th' work that needs ta be done--better highways, better buildin's, better houses. Ever'thing needs ta be fixed up better! But, Goddamit, I ain't no master mind! All I know is we gotta git together an' stick together! This country won't ever git much better as long as it's dog eat dog, ever' man fer his own self, an' ta hell with th' rest of th' world. We gotta all git together, dam it all, an' make somebody give us a job somewhere doin' something'!' "

But the whole crowd walked off down toward Main Street, laughing and talking and throwing their hands. I leaned back up against the side of the shack and watched the gravel and dust cutting down the last of the hollyhocks.

'News reels in my head,' I was looking and thinking to myself. [...] 'News reels in my head. By God, mebbe we all gotta learn how ta see them there news reels in our heads. Mebbe so.'

This land was his land.

2009-06-11T00:59:00.010-04:00

Reading Woody Guthrie's autobiography, Bound for Glory. I would love to give a proper introduction, but I really don't know what to say. I think it speaks for itself. But I will say he amazes me. I wish I could be as real as he was.
His words from Chapter XI, "Boy in Search of Something:"

A picture--you buy it once, and it bothers you for forty years; but with a song, you sing it out, and it soaks in people's ears and they all jump up and down and sing it with you, and then when you quit singing it, it's gone, and you get a job singing it again. On top of that, you can sing out what you think. You can tell tales of all kinds to put your idea across to the other fellow.

And there on the Texas plains right in the dead center of the dust bowl, with the oil boom over and the wheat blowed out and the hard-working people just stumbling about, bothered with mortgages, debts, bills, sickness, worries of every blowing kind, I seen there was plenty to make up songs about.

Some people liked me, hated me, walked with me, walked over me, jeered me, cheered me, rooted me and hooted me, and before long I was invited in and booted out of every public place of entertainment in that country. But I decided that songs was a music and a language of all tongues.

I never did make up many songs about the cow trails or the moon skipping through the sky, but at first it was funny songs of what all's wrong, and how it turned out good or bad. Then I got a little braver and made up songs telling what I thought was wrong and how to make it right, songs that said what everybody in that country was thinking.

And this has held me ever since.

-Woody Guthrie

everything green to grow

2009-06-05T00:27:00.007-04:00

rigorous rain on a metal roof
sounds resentful.
like the earth if it could speak.
like wide-eyed souls,
shaking in the deepest corners of the world.
or a foaming turquoise sea
whose spine never shies back from the beach,
whose bones just keep breaking,
whose fingers run along the sand
as on the keys of an organ,
roaring towards the land without pausing for a breath.

And yet, what is it that makes you so beautiful?

Is it the thunder that accompanies you?

No, that just makes you irresistible.

Is it your lucid color
or your ancient smell?
Or the parade that you pull behind you,
Like a traveling circus,
packing up and leaving when all the acts have yielded their applause?

Perhaps it is the way you bleed on the earth with your cleansing drops of wisdom

teaching everything rooted to green

and everything green to grow.
.
.
.
.
.

I'm starting to find that I was not made for these times

2009-06-02T00:15:00.004-04:00

"Her Eyes Dart 'Round"
The Felice Brothers

O my love is light as a dove
Her skin is fair and dark is her hair
And her eyes dart 'round and fall on the ground
And her lips move along to an old country song

Down south you will find among the high pines
An old liquor store where we danced on the floor
O the light on the wall, it brightens the hall
But the room in the back is quiet and black

What keeps me alive is the green in your eyes
And the sweet distant drone of your voice on the phone
Could I hear, in death, your voice and your breath?
Could I hear them sounds in life underground?

O how likely she walks among the white stalks
And, crane in her neck, she steps 'round the deck
Could I bow in the sand to your lily white hand?
Can my head gently rest in your lily white breast?

O my love is light as a dove
Her skin is fair and dark is her hair
And her eyes dart 'round and fall on the ground
And her lips move along to an old country song

2009-05-27T02:01:00.000-04:00

sometimes this is what i feel like.

mr. misery

2009-03-14T09:35:00.003-04:00

i wish i could have seen him...

i thought eli was bad!

2009-03-12T22:54:00.002-04:00

i could watch this 100 times in a row and laugh every time.

See more funny videos and Funny Videos at Today's Big Thing.

i wished i dreamed like this

2009-02-10T12:17:00.001-05:00

i love this...i wanna do this...

pensées

2009-02-05T08:56:00.001-05:00

"Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas."
The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know.

--Blaise Pascal, Pensées

a quick chat

2009-02-01T20:08:00.004-05:00

last night, i ate at tomato head with adam, will hooper, amanda, heather and kyle. all our buddies who work there were working. lawrence was not our waiter, but he came over a few times to say hey...and that is when a most blessed chatting occured...it went something like this:

Audrey:
"hey, Lawrence! How are you, it's so good to see you!"

Lawrence:
"hey, it's good to see you! hey, is Ben in the Carribean yet?"

Audrey:
"yeah! He's already been there for like 3 weeks!"

Lawrence:
"Oh! wow!"

Audrey:
(what i actually said: "Ya, he has a blog.")
(what Lawrence heard me say: "Ya, he hasn't called.)

Lawrence:
"oh,........I'm sorry."

absence

2009-01-31T11:25:00.004-05:00

"Absence weakens mediocre passions, and strengthens the great ones, like the wind blows out candles yet ignites the fire."
--François de La Rouchefoucauld (from Maximes)

a long comment

2009-01-30T08:51:00.002-05:00

i responded to one of ethan's blogs, and it was so dang long, and ive been thinking about this anyway, so i just thought i'd copy it and put it somewhere...this is where i decided...if you want more context, you can read ethan's post first :)

suffice it to say i know exactly how you feel. feel. get it? i am similar to you in the way that i always think i need to be feeling something, i always ask to be more strongly sensitive of feelings, to be more passionate.
i asked for that for a long time. i know christians talk a lot about how we only seem to seek God when things are going badly, when we're at our last straw...as opposed to when things are going well.
i suppose you could say i did this a few years ago (and still do it now, that doesn't change completely) but i felt that i was always seeking God, but, darnit, he just wasn't showing up at my doorstep everyday.
I don't say this to scare you, but for me, during that time, God hit me with some pretty tough trials, as i would call them, or just difficult life things to deal with, and although it was one of the hardest times of my life, i felt him the strongest...like i asked him...as if he said, ok, but first you're going to have to give up these securities you're holding on to...
anyway, i never forget that, and after that, i think God showed me that he was always there, i was just looking to hard, if that makes sense. It's so easy to want to feel all the time, and to a certain degree you can, but the wind blows harder at some times than at others. sometimes it knocks us down, sometimes it's cold, sometimes you don't feel it, but the wind is just the air moving. air is always moving but we can't be angry if it doesn't always give us goosebumps.
i think one of the main problems with humans is the way we perceive expectations. My mom told about a sermon she heard about the way we turn verbs into nouns...like expectation...think of it as "to expect" To expect something is:
to look forward to; regard as likely to happen; anticipate the occurrence or the coming of; to look for with reason or justification;
it's an anticipation, because we don't know what it's going to be like...if we already have "expectations" that means we have already decided what we think should and will happen, and the way it should play out, etc...and if it doesn't happen this way, we get pissed. this is a huge problem in marriage as well...
if we change our idea of expectation to mean we expect, or look forward to, what God has for us,....we aren't as easily disappointed. we look forward with reason, but not with an already bitter, doubtful attitude.
just something to think about. but know that most people feel this way, and everyone goes through tough times. we all love you and are here for you. thanks for reminding us how important being aware of God is.
sorry this is so long! :)

walkin' n' thinkin'

2009-01-25T12:37:00.002-05:00

walking eli around north knoxville,
dogs barking,
new old houses painted mint green, pink, yellow, purple and blue.
construction and beat up sidewalks,
spotted cloudy blue sky,
flocks of birds swim like schools of fish.

35 degree air pleasantly stings my nose,
crisp like a cucumber.
ryan adams hugging my ears,
smiling at cars driving by.

comfortably anxious,
sadly happy.

the only thing that would make knoxville better right now,
would make it unbearably wonderful:

the monastery 4 years ago,
a fire and chocolate.
sigur ros, david bazan, justin vernon.

ben, mark, jacob and ali,
james and abby, david,
andrea and barrett, hooper,
wes, paul, luke pettit,
alyson, huckleberry,
couches in the forest
and a machete in the grass.

i miss my friends.

Guillaume Apollinaire

2009-01-25T10:47:00.006-05:00

I have to take "comps" in early April to be able to graduate from my masters program. The task is quite daunting...I am pretty much responsible for about 30 different works of French literature (novels, mostly) from 3 different centuries. I have 2 written exams, about 6 hours each, on two different days, and an oral exam, in which I will be talking about the 25 page paper I will have written. Anyway, so I have been trying to go one day at a time and it's almost like studying for a test every night, but it hasn't been too bad. I have already read about half the books from previous classes.

Yesterday I was studying/reading a bit of the surréaliste poets from the early 1900s: Apollinaire, Bréton, etc. I read a poem I read about 3 years ago by Apollinaire, and I like it, so I thought I'd share it, probably very roughly translated, in English. He was actually the one to coin the word "surrealism," although this is one of his more traditional, lyrical poems:

Le Pont Mirabeau
(The Mirabeau Bridge)

underneath the Mirabeau Bridge flows the Seine

and our loves
must I remember this
joy always comes after pain

come night sound the hour
the days go by I remain

hand in hand remain face to face
while underneath
the bridge our arms cross
the waters so weary endless regards

come night sound the hour
the days go by I remain

love goes away like this water flows
love goes away
how life is slow
and how hope is violent

come night sound the hour
the days go by I remain

pass by days and pass by weeks
neither time past
nor love returns
underneath the Mirabeau Bridge flows the Seine

come night sound the hour
the days go by I remain

--Guillaume Apollinaire

Old house, Second house, Rental house, New rules

2009-01-09T14:55:00.006-05:00

This was my first Christmas break spent at my family's new (even though we've had it for 10 years) official home in Cherokee, Alabama, right by Pickwick Lake of the Tennessee River. They finally sold our house in Memphis in May of 2008 after being on the market for over 3 years. They ended up switching houses with a couple they knew from church, who had always liked our house.

The house they bought is about half the size of our old one, half the price, half everything, really. And, it is only one subdivision over from our old house. They decided to rent the house out and happened to found a renter right away.

The renter is a 26 year old woman, barbie doll-looking, as my mom described her, "in dental school" (but not really), has a pit bull dog, about which my parents have received phone calls from neighbors complaining of it barking and being scary, has a big black Cadillac, and a big black boy friend. Everything about the situation seemed a little sketchy, and the only thing you could really infer was that she either inherited a butt-load of money, or something else.

It turned out to be the "something else." My parents received several phone calls the other day informing them that there was a huge drug bust that morning at our rental house: 10 cop cars in front of the house, arrest of the barbie, and many other drug busts on the same day :

INDICTMENT, ARRESTS AND SEARCH WARRANTS

IN MARIJUANA AND MONEY LAUNDERING CONSPIRACY CASE

read the report.

So, we had a criminal living in our rental house. Wow. It's sad and scary, but I sort of had to laugh, too. For anyone who is from Memphis, this is something one would not be particularly shocked about, but unlikely for Cordova, a relatively newish suburb of Memphis (maybe 20 years old), that just recently got dragged into the city limits after 10 years of fighting it. I mean, this is like the West Town of Knoxville, and I was pretty surprised it happened in lil' Cordova.

Cities move. Crime moves. Crime happens. Shit happens.

Sometimes I miss Memphis. Sometimes I don't. But I grew up there, my memories are there, and part of me still lives there. I still love Memphis.

2009-01-09T14:25:00.002-05:00

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.
Ben sent me this a while ago, and it is one of the best things I've ever seen. This little girl is incredibly cute and the fact that she speaks French just quadruples it's cuteness.

2008-12-22T01:10:00.000-05:00

this just makes me happy

2008-12-08T20:05:00.000-05:00

PRAISE THE LORDIE

2008-12-08T19:05:00.001-05:00

dont listen to your brain...it lies to your body...
but only when something isn't normal

2008-12-07T11:27:00.001-05:00

2008-12-07T11:26:00.000-05:00

silently powerful

2008-12-04T12:39:00.002-05:00

(i wrote this between classes one beautiful fall morning on november 4th)

every year it's the same thing,
and yet it never gets old.
the same seasons every decade,
yet they are somehow different.
different enough to be beautiful every time.

i suppose they are like we are.
always the same but always becoming different.
constantly changing, but still the same.
still recognizable but more mature.
never able to stay too long in the same state.

i suppose they are like love is.
changing forms but keeping its core.
seemingly monotone until the point when it is reborn.
realizing once more its beauty when it starts again to fade.
silently powerful and powerfully lovely.

pretty birds aren't

2008-10-21T21:45:00.003-04:00

pretty birds
don't always sing pretty songs,
but they're always good to look at.

sometimes you just never get enough.

when the moon beams shine just right on the right night,
you can fool yourself.
you can do it for a long time,
but you're not always happy.

it only takes one try to make a wound
that you spend the rest of your life trying to mend.

but, you can only tell stories about scars.
nobody cares about what almost happened.

some people are good at lying.
some are really good at lying to themselves,
but what's the difference anyhow?
neither one could be further from the truth.

when the moon looks like the tip of a struck match
the second after it's blown out,
i bet a bird flying in front of it
glows with the warmth of the sun.

a poem by Victor Hugo

2008-01-28T22:20:00.000-05:00

This is a poem that i had to read for a class, and i liked it in French, so i decided to translate it on my own, which means that there are probably a lot of rough, wrong or awkward aspects to it, and the beautiful rhymes are lost, yet here goes: The poem comes from a collection of poems called Les Orientales, referring to the Orient: the East, and the title of this poem "Les Djinns" refers to evil spirits or demons of some of the Muslim faith's beliefs. Hugo wrote it in 1829. Note the crescendo/decrescendo form of the poem, which is supposed to imitate an attack.

Les Djinns

Walls, towns,
And bridge,
Santuary
Of sleep,
Gray sea
Where breaks
The breeze,
Everything sleeps.

In the plain
Is born a noise,
It's the breath
Of the night.
She bellows
Like a soul
That a flame
Always follows!

The voice, more strong
resembles a bell.
A dwarf who jumps
It's a gallop.
He vanishes, clasps
Then in cadence
On a foot dances
On the crest of a wave.

The rumor approaches,
The echo repeats
It's like the bell
Of a cursed convent;
Like the noise of a mob,
Who thunders and roles,
And sometimes collapses,
And sometimes grows.

God! The voice sepulcher
Des Djinns!...What noise they make!
Under the whorl
Of the deep stairs.
Already my lamp is lit,
And the shadow of the banister,
That stretches down the railing wall,
Rises up to the landing.

It's the multitude of Les Djinns who pass
And whistling hiss!
The yews, that their flight breaks,
Crack like a burning pine.
Their herd, heavy and quick,
Stealing in the empty space,
Seem like a pale cloud
Who bears a clearing in its flank.

They are all so close! --Keep closed
This room, where we taunt them.
What noise outside! Hideous army
Of vampires and dragons!
The ridgepole of the exposed roof
Bends as much as a soaked herb,
And the old rusted door
Trembles, to uproot its hinges!

Cries of hell! Voices who shriek and cry!
The horrible multitude, pushed by the North Wind,
Without doubt, O sky! will come down on my home.
The wall bows under the black battalion.
The house cries and staggering leans,
And one would say of that, torn soil,
As it chases a dried leaf,
The wind rolls it with their whistling!

Prophet! If your hand saves me
Of these impure demons of the night,
I will prostrate my bald forehead
Before your sacred censer!
Make that on these doors that loyally guard me,
Die their breath of the stars,
And that in vain the nails of their wings
Grate and cry to these black stained glass windows!

They are passing!--Their company
Is taking off, and fleeing, and their feet
Cease to beat on my door
With their multiplied knocks,
The air is filled with the noise of shackles,
And in the nearby forests
Shake all the grand oaks,
Under their flight of bending fire!

Of their wings faraway
The fighting declines,
So confused in the plains,
So fable, that one believes he
Hears the grasshopper
Cry in a hailed voice,
Or sparkle the hail,
On the top of an old roof.

Strange syllables
We come again;
While Arabs
When they sound the horn,
A song on the beach
Perhaps elevated,
And the child who dreams
Makes dreams of gold.

Ghastly spirits,
Sons of death,
In the darkness
Press their step;
Their mob grumbles
While, deep,
Murmurs a wave
That one does not see.

This vague noise
Who lulls itself to sleep.
It's the wave
On the shore;
It's the lament,
Almost extinguished,
Of a saint
For a death.

One doubts
The night.
I listen:--
Everything vanishes,
Everything passes,
Space
Erases
The noise.

I may not always love you...OH WAIT!! '08

2008-01-10T13:04:00.000-05:00

I may not always love you but as long as there are stars above you, you never need to doubt it. I'll make you so sure about it. God only knows what I'd be without you.
You never know what's going to go down in your life, you know? I like to think about how screwed up my life would be if all the things i thought i really wanted at one time had come true. Even though there are some things that i definitely regretted after thinking or saying them, there are still other circumstances that i have wished with all my heart. Let's just pretend all these things had come into play:
First of all, i would be dead, because of the many times i yelled "i wish i were dead! or "I hate you!" or "I want daddy (or whoever didn't discipline me that particular time)!" between muffled cries after a hard spanking from one of my loving parents. Now, if that's not enough to break a parent's heart or worry them sick about the psychological wellness of their child, i don't know what would.
But, if that wish had not come true, i would be married to Richard, my financé at age 4, who i thought was "the one," but whom i had to leave when my parents moved houses and i started a new school (Kindergarten).
Or, i could have hooked up with all the cute "perfect" guys i had crushes on and ended up either addicted to some drug, pregnant without a husband, or married to some alcoholic, sports-obsessed lawyer prick who spends his nights with other "lady-friends."
Or i could have ended up with a great guy who just wasn't the guy perfect for me. Being fine, but not really happy. Feeling free but not really yourself. Seeming in the same book, but not quite on the same page. Looking into someone's eyes, but always wondering "what if..." Wanting security but not being able to let yourself go. These are some of the many reasons why what we want is not always what's best for us. The unexpected can be the best thing that's ever happened to you. I thought i new what i wanted, but i'm sure as hell glad that all i've ever wanted didn't come true.
Now i find myself still amazed at the way my life has played out, and so thankful to God that i have had the pain and the struggles and the shit and the bliss that i have, because i am different now, and i have someone who is different with me, and with whom i want to change and grow.
I have no doubts, and I don't think "what if" when i look into his eyes.

2008-01-10T08:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's eve I was conversing with the man whom I call my own, and he ever so kindly and inadvertently reminded me that today is the tenth of the month, marking our 11 months of unwaivering love and friendship; and keeping with my apparent past pattern of posts on the tenth of each month, I see my blog is due some words at some point before midnight this eve.
Yet, as I have no time at this particular moment, know that you have something coming to you.

2007-12-10T08:33:00.000-05:00

To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life.

a forest of birches

2007-11-10T12:34:00.000-05:00

It came to me at half past the hour that this hour would never come again, and that all the men i could have hated in any other time but mine were now dead and gone, fertilizing the earth with the matter that was them and echoing their thoughts in people who knew them.
Hating men, of course, is not something i would like to be at the forefront of a page or a story or a thought, but hating what people have done in the past is a feeling that often and easily finds its way to the top and perhaps even succeeds in running the show; the show being, of course, my mind: what it dictates to my body, namely my tongue.
Sometimes i wonder if it is so easy to live in the past and even long for it, for something that we can perfect only in our heads, because it's a way to avoid the fact that the present isn't that much different: housing pain in the worst yet joy in the deepest, and the present demands to be faced for it to become the past.
And so we're faced with facing the present and turning our backs on the past, but never learning from it, like an idiot who is surprised when the red stove top still burns his finger.

If the sun sets behind a forest of trees, what happens to the shadows? They're moving all day and in the end are stretched so thin that they vanish. Is it the same shadow the next day, or has it changed? Does the shadow even exist? Only if the tree changes, you say. But even more, it is there because of the sun, the light from behind. If there was no light would there ever have been a shadow? If there was no tree did the shadow ever exist?

I think of tree shadows, because the picture of an eternal forest of birches at dusk, their thousands of shadows stretching out longer than the trees themselves with the sparkling dust in the air glowing in the twilight, has been in my mind for quite some time. And in some way, there is nothing more hauntingly enchanting or beautiful than this scene to me.
I imagine the world to revolve around this forest, soaking up the reality of time in its glittering particles and allowing nothing to escape except emptiness and ugliness and the strange axle of our lives that is time.
I hate hate, and i hate the power of hate, but hate's power will not subside until time releases its power over our stupidity.

killing a mockingbird

2007-11-10T10:55:00.000-05:00

the sun makes prunes of us all
i open my eyes and i'm asleep
don't sleep in the grass,
it will eat you alive;
you stayed in the grass too long,
and it ate you alive.

you make the devil's angels say thank you,
the folded blades of grass
will never recover their height.
mexicans get pretty in the sun,
i just get hot and burn.
sleep on you father's ashes if you must,
he's been in the dust
you just didn't see him.

mockingbird is tired of repeating
he just wants to be like you and me.
the pirate ship is waiting to take you away;
finish that beer, man
get your head out of your pocket.

the sun is hotter than you think,
people you don't know are dying,
like your brother and his family,
and you keep feeding the mockingbird.
he's tired of singing to people without ears.
sick of it,
sick of singing,
sick to death of mocking.