break-taking

i'm taking a break from blogging - i didn't realize i was, but i am - because it's time for me to get serious about a book proposal i'm preparing.

i'll post from time to time but for those of you who follow this blog, that's why there are only going to be a few posts here and there.

say a prayer ...

go to failblog

this is the funniest thing i've seen on the internet in forever. thanks caitlin for the recommendation!!!

failblog

oh, and this is not a fail - it's a win!


see more Fail Blog

the beauty of really awfsome things

have you heard the term "awfsome?" as in, that is so awful that it's awesome.

but it's not enough to be awful. something has to be SO awful that it heads all the way around to awesomeness.

thanks to sr. mexicant's blog, i have some truly awfsome album covers to share with you. enjoy! i hope you have a super-great day!

fun with quentin, hitler, and the bear jew

is he a goober? yeah. big nerd. big-chinned big nerd.
is he a cut-and-paste borrower/mash-up d.j. of films and genres and language? yes.
can his films contain elements that are cute and self-referencing? yes.
does he just plain like violence and blood? yeah, the man does. sometimes i get grossed out.

but quentin tarantino can tell a story. and enjoy it. and bring audiences into it. and inglourious basterds is a really, really well-told story. and it's, i dunno, quieter than some other tarantino films. which i think is good, a mature sign; the movie isn't in any hurry - because as it goes along, there is a cliff ahead, and so why rush? the whole thing is headed over the edge anyway; but i felt like i was in good trustworthy hands as i was tumbling. which is all i ask for in a movie.

here's one of my very very very favorite poems

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty

and scared. Don't open the door to your library

and begin studying. Pick up your musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love, be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the earth.

- Jelaluddin Rumi, 13th-century Persian poet and mystic, and all-around Jesus-y man

It Was An Honor, You Crazy Girl

Olivia, the Tiny. then, Olivia, the Shy Cat. then Olivia, the Sassy. then, Olivia, the Queen. Olivia, the Old Lady. Olivia, the Slow But Still A Badass.
and now - Olivia, in cat heaven. we were with her for 15 and a half years. i brought her home, one of a litter of kittens cared for by a friend from our then-church. when our kids were six and three. now they're 21 and 18. olivia wasn't named yet; my wife named her. she said she didn't know why "olivia" fit her - but it felt right.
from the beginning, olivia was shy. which is tough when you're a kitten among big expressive people like the Diamonds and the folks who'd come by. olivia would act like she was just sniffing you, then pause, then hiss and swat at you. and the she'd run off.
we're not sure what the kid in the famiy who gave olivia to us had done with the kittens born in his house, but the story we heard was that he, also a very young child, had tossed the kittens against the walls. so, there's that. but, she was just shy. kept to herself.
didn't come and get in your lap if you called her. didn't do ANYTHING if we asked her to. no tricks, no obedience. but she wasn't wild, or mean. she was just her own girl. so, we often called her the queen.
but it was funny because she was little and skinny.
she loved bling; she wore a collar. when her collar would get worn out, and we'd get her a new one, she'd stretch out her neck and let us put it on her. like a rock star being dressed for a show.
but when she wanted to be close to us, or when she was cold, she'd walk over casually, and jump up into our laps, and allow us to pet her. and, depending on whom she'd decided to sleep next to that month, when it was bedtime, she'd jump up into that person's bed and snuggle tight up against them.
she hissed, we figured, because she was scared. if you'd been tossed against walls in your deeply formative years, wouldn't you be? so, she didn't like strangers. but she liked us.
she didn't make messes or tear things up; that'd be beneath her. but she would jump up on the kitchen counter if there was chicken or whipped cream.
last week there was whipped cream.
she'd felt bad for a few years; turns out that, like many older cats, her kidneys weren't good. the vet suggested a canned food that helped cats' kidneys work easier. he said she wouldn't live that long. but she didn't die. just a tough old girl.
then she leaped up to sneak some whipped cream, and fell off the counter, and broke her leg. turns out she had bone cancer. we didn't know. she must've been in pain, maybe a long time.
so we took her to the vet and decided to euthanize her - the other option was to cut off her leg. but the vet said she wouldn't heal.
we told our college-age children to come say goodbye if they wanted to, and they did, and then we took her and held the queen. and said goodbye. she went quickly and quietly. she was ready.
so, we miss her. we kept her latest collar. and lately when i look up at clouds, i think they are whipped cream, and queen olivia doesn't have to sneak bites of it anymore. although she probably does because it's more fun.
but olivia mellowed out, too.

off we go

it's a strange and sad and beautiful and joyful thing to launch my daughter into the world of college and young adulthood. i am remembering having the same experience with my son three years ago; i wanted him to be safe, to be happy, to adjust, to make friends, to settle in, to do well, to feel good, to find his way. i also knew that part of that process is in the bumps and bruises that will show up. they do. that's part of it. i know that, too, about myself, and my own continued launches into the next thing i'm to learn or to experience, the next lesson, the next joy, the next bump, the next loss, the next awareness, the next misstep, the next epiphany. i thought at some point i'd acquire some level of "there-ness." as in, okay, i'm there. but that's a foolish thought. it's not the truth. it's not real. even though i know there's a part of me - and all of us, i think - that seeks that sense of having figured at least SOMETHING out.
here's the beauty: when i stop and breathe and relax, i realize that i have figured many many many things out. i've accepted a lot. i know how to do some things. i even know sometimes when to rest in something and feel confident and peaceful. and yet - i still want to learn. to grow. to lose some things and to gain some things. it doesn't stop. nor should it. the road goes ever on and on. and that's good.
so, that helps me as i watched my daughter meeting her new roommate, and settling into her dorm, and meeting her R.A., and walking around the campus, and becoming a Pirate. it felt ... right. it felt good. it's time.
that doesn't mean there's not huge sadness in my heart, because of course there is, just as when my son left for school, just as when i let one thing go in order to become something else. but it's not loss; it's a passing; and it's good; and it's time; and whatever comes will be part of her path, and my path.

and, too, it's fun. as my wife and daughter and i were hanging out yesterday afternoon in her now-decorated-and-moved-into dorm room, the suitemates next door came in and asked our daughter, "Do you want to come hang out with us?" and she said, "Okay, y'all can go. I'm going to go hang out with the girls." and it was a good launching. we weren't just launching her; she was launching us.

off we go!