Here is another poem I wrote. Thoughts?

On my pillow is
your earring,
black and shiny and
plastic,
and I guess if this was
true love
it would be a pearl or
a diamond or
you would still be here.
But it's a plastic earring and
you are not here and
this
is not
true love.

Winter just wasn't my season.

Hey folks.

Here are some things that are good:

Megan and Jonathan and I went to the Bird Tower last weekend and got stranded in the middle of Nowhere, USA. Jonathan painted me with tribal tattoos and sat in the flowers and the music played and the battery died and we did not.

I found pictures from over a year ago, and though I've not shown them to you yet, I have printed some of them off and I've hung them on my wall and I have been refreshed by your presence, even though you are not here.

Tentative plans to move to Destin in February are becoming more solid every day. Scary as it is, Amanda and Jessica will likely be finding the apartment/house without me, but that is okay. Hey, this is going to be fun!

Step Show at UNA-- I wish I had gone before now. I enjoy this type of show very much, and I enjoy my friends very much: Nita, Tammy, O'Brian, Jeff, and newboy Drew. Tourway afterward, trading Megan for Nita and Tammy.

I hit a small cat on the way to the restaurant. This is not a good thing, no matter how I spin it. It makes the list because I need to get it out, because it made me cry, because my friends were so good to me.

Whoa, how about I go to Fall College Conference at Camp McDowell. I've never been before, but I think I would enjoy it. Lindsey says Camp in the fall is her favorite, and I generally like things that are Lindsey's Favorite.

When you have a free moment, I suggest you visit http://www.asofterworld.com/bloody/index.php. It is by the asofterworld people, so you know it's good.

And maybe just go visit asofterworld? Come on, you know you wanna...

This is Grace, over and out.

Love your wife, love your get, keep your word, and if need arises die for what men die for.

At a cave mouth my uncle showed me crinoid stems,
And in limestone skeletons of the fishy form of some creature.
"All once under water," he said, "no saying the millions
Of years." He walked off, the old man still with me. "Grampa,"
I said, "what do you do, things being like this?" "All you can,"
He said, looking off through the treetops, skyward. "Love
Your wife, love your get, keep your word, and
If need arises die for what men die for. There aren't
Many choices.
And remember that truth doesn't always live in the number of voices."

Life is ever changing but I will always have a constant and comfort in your love...

Hey, I just spent some time on stuffwhitepeoplelike.com

Go. Enjoy. Report back to me (O'Brian, I'm talking to you ;).

I'm here at Megan's, chilling with her and Jonathan and Jonathan and Jeff (and Spencer, of course).

I worked tonight.

We're watching Little Monsters, which I did not watch when I was little.

Hey, campout. Saturday, November 8th. In my parents' backyard. Classic.

I'm kinda lonely right now.

Clever trick...

Hey. I just wanted you to know that while I was watching the Vice Presidential debate, my brother was watching the Goonies.

I'm not sure why this makes me so happy, but it does.

I think I will watch The Goonies this weekend.

Tell me, where is evil bred? In the heart or in the head?

Jeff has recently really gotten into A Softer World, which makes me very happy. It's kinda like when you read a book with someone.

Speaking of books... I finished Life of Pi and Twilight this week. Pi was good, although a bit bouncy. Twilight was good, too. I mean, it's a vampire romance for teens, so it's as cheesy as all get out, but overall I enjoyed it and will be starting the sequel this week. Also been reading for Chaucer, Southern Literature, and British Literature.

So... since last we spoke, I saw B.B. King in Huntsville with Mr. Joiner. Wow oh wow. I actually think this was the first concert I've been to this year, which is strange. It was easily one of the best. We were in the second row, semi-isolated (the two seats to our right and the two to our left were vacant, strangely enough), not ten feet from the man, the myth, the legend. Live music is just so... powerful. Watching a group of people who are so obviously glad to be doing what they're doing, who fit together like puzzle pieces, is an experience to remember. To be in a packed auditorium, to feel the giddyness and the awe radiating off people who have been listening to this man perform for over 50 years is to be gladly suffocated. He was so humble, and grateful, and beautiful. Watching it with T.J. made the experience all the more memorable, as he is one of my best friends and his excitement was contagious.

On Sunday I picked muskedines with one of my clients at her mother's house. It was so much fun, and it made me feel very real.

I have tentative plans to visit Jessica this weekend. Meagan's going to Pensecola Friday evening and my parents are going to Perdido. I've not been asked to work, soo... well, why not? I mean, I won't be able to spend any money there, but that's okay. Mom, Meagan, and I will come back Sunday evening, and Dad will be back a couple days later when his conference is over.

I watched the movie Volver the other night; it was pretty good. Pratik reccomended it. Umm... oh, the poetry slam was Friday. It was pretty good, if a little long. Afterwards Pratik and O'Brian came to the apartment and we watched some L Word and ate stirfry and fixed my hair. It was really nice to just sit. Megan Williams came to the slam, which was good. I've hung out with her more in the last couple weeks. I hung out with Jonathan a couple weekends ago, too, and finally got to see his new house and meet his roommate. I also hung out with Nick last week.

Oh, that's right! We had a picnic last Thursday! Well, kinda. I got one of my clients and we met Jeff and O'Brian and Nick at the park, and Megan came with Spencer, and then the park ranger kicked us out so we hung out at Megan's for a bit before going home. :)

Did you tell her you like her fingernails?

"Lemon, I'm impressed. You're beginning to think like a businessman."

"A business woman."

"I don't think that's a word."

Keep it up, little engine...

Well, here:

Now, I enjoyed this video very much. I enjoyed it because it supports the same candidate I support, of course, but I enjoyed it more the second time that I watched it for the words that were spoken, the words that were sung. I hope that our next president embraces this energy, this message. I hope.

Well, the wind and the trees are gaining up on me; they sing my funeral song in harmony...

You are as creepy as a real serial killer. For real.

A couple things:

1. The Office: Why is it so funny, and why isn't Jim my boyfriend? On that note, why isn't Jim a real guy? Jeez.

B. Politics! Jeeeesus, what is wrong with people? I watched some of both conventions. Did you know that McCain was a POW? I bet you didn't, but he was. He was a POW. In the war. The war for AMERICA.

III. I have made an observation recently, and I would like your opinions as to whether or not I am correct. It's gonna take a little backstory, but I would really appreciate some responses.

I've been thinking about Thanksgiving a lot recently, and how (in my family, at least) the men and women awake equally early: the men to go shoot targets and bond and what not, and the women to cook and set the table and prepare for dinner. After the meal, the men retire to the living room while the women clean up all the of the dishes they spent so much time making.

Of course, it's not as one-sided as all that- I'll be more than one of you gentlemen has been chased from the kitchen for offering to help. This led me on another train of thought, one that is not neccessarily holiday-related. It has to do with the way men and women typically think of work.

I think that men hold "work" and "not work" very separately. When men are at work--whether this be a job or a project they've undertaken-- they work and they work hard, liking few interuptions. When they are not at work, they do not want to do work of any sort. Think of the stereotypical man coming home, propping his feet up on the coffee table with a beer and the remote.

I don't believe women form so defined a line for "work" and "not work." When they are together, cleaning up after the family, this is also bonding time with their friends and relatives. Think women doing laundry as they watch television, read books as they nurse babies, listen to radio shows as they cook dinner.

Anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts. Do you tend to pattern your thoughts this way? Do other people you know? I know sometimes it's a bit hard assign yourself to a stereotype (I know how much you guys hate that), especially if you've never really thought about it before. It's like if someone asks you whether you put your right or left shoe on first... I mean, who pays attention to that? Looking forward to some responses...

Hellllooooo, hydration.

"The pundits like to slice and dice our country into red states and blue states-- red states for Republicans and blue states for Democrats-- but I've got news for them. We worship an awesome God in the blue states, and we don't like federal agents poking around our libraries in the red states. We coach Little League in the blue states, and yes, we've got some gay friends in the red states. There are patriots who opposed the war in Iraq, and their are patriots who supported the war in Iraq. We are one people, all of us pledging our allegiance to the Stars and Stripes, all of us defending the United States of America."

That's a quote from our boy Obama several years ago. He's so easy to fall in love with. I watched the speeches given by him and Biden yesterday. I think the good cop/bad cop image they've got going on is interesting; also notable are the political analyst that immediately dissect every speech. I wonder what effects these men and women have on voters. We watch the speeches together, and then they tell us what tricks were used. They point out the repetition of "working class" and the pot shots at McCain, and they let us know in no uncertain terms what buttons were pressed to cause what reactions. Does that change the effectiveness of political speeches?

I'm not sure. I, for one, found myself still enthralled. I hope I'm not being duped.

Reader's Digest just had some interesting interviews with both candidates. I like Obama a lot, although I worry about being caught up in the charismatic tornado and not the issues. I like to read about their stances instead of watching them speak because I think it helps me focus. Even so, I find my views to be more aligned with Obama than McCain. I think his lack of experience is certainly something to consider, although part of me actually finds that to be a positive; I would like the country to be shaken up. I think the most damaging thing to McCain for me is his patriotism. I consider myself a patriotic person; I do not consider the USA the greatest country in the history of man. I think that's a ridiculous claim, and one that we casually throw around. Now, if we wanna shout that from the rooftops, maybe also don't be assholes all the time? Just a thought.

Hmm, it's apparent from the end of that paragraph that I've run out political mojo. Bill Engvall just came on the television; this may have had a negative effect on my ability to care about the presidential situation for the next half hour. Sometimes it's nice to laugh at silly silly things.

Remember that time when I only ate boxes of tangerines?

So, this one time we had a night off at Camp McDowell, and a lot of the staff were going to Birmingham, and some were going to Hanceville, and Lindsey was back from Africa and we were doing one or the other or both and then all of a sudden we weren't doing either, we were staying at camp and getting dinner at the Goldsmith's and drinking a glass of muskedine wine and talking about Uncle Wade and our family and our friends and our lives and going to bed.

And the next morning we woke up early and jumped off the bridge and Lindsey got a nose bleed and we got covered in mud trying to climb out of the creek. We trekked back to main camp and rinsed off and then swam in the pool, and at the end we really swam in the pool, and then we took showers and went to the thrift store and came back with matching blue shirts and brown and orange dresses and twenty-three cent vases.

And then we went to arts and crafts, painting and repainting our vases and not talking as much this time, and then we scrambled barefoot up to the car because the top was off and the rain was coming, and we made it, only just. Barefoot back down, and then we were soaking wet and not complaining, and then we made a candle out of a candle, and slowly the staff came wandering home and the bell rang, and the meeting began. The meeting was good, and dinner was good, and arts and crafts was still there, but this time it wasn't quiet, but it wasn't loud. And there was painting and dancing and singing, soft singing and loud singing, and the whole placed smelled of strawberry-kiwi bubbles and rooibos tea.

I know you are strong; may your journey be long; I wish you the best of luck...

Here is a list of people I want to be like when I grow up:

Kee Sloan
Michael Goldsmith
Susanna Whitsett
Lindsey Mullen
Grampa
Lydia Atkins
Anna Lott
Chris Cook
Morgan Mullen

Just jottin' this down.

Haley Bauer had lived for seven years without green peas or her father. She was introduced to both a week after her seventh birthday, and showed them equal disdain, making her mother very happy. Her father won't appear again in her life (or this story) until she is seventeen, and this time instead of trying to impress the daughter he doesn't know by make a dinner that includes green peas, he will introduce her to marijuana, with far better results.

Please, remember me, finally, and all my up-hill clawing...

Well, friends, it turns out that Lindsey and I are infected with salmonella. We found this out only because of my sister's persistence; she called the hospital this morning. We're both still exhibiting symptoms and suffering mild to moderate and occasionally severe pain, so she wanted to know if there was anything the doctor could give us to at least ease things until the "virus" had run its course. They told us they weren't allowed to dispense medical advice over the phone, then called back 15 minutes later to say that our cultures showed we had salmonella and they'd call in an antibiotic. Great.

So now, finally, we may be on the road to recovery. Now, many people actually do go through this without antibiotics (and in fact, salmonella can be resistant to the medicine), but when things continue without improvement as long as our condition has, I think it's safe to say that antibiotics are a safe choice. Weakened immune systems often allow for the illness to take hold like this. I guess coming home from camp is a pretty vulnerable time, then, with all systems shot and us ready for a break. I gotta be honest, though... I wish I'd just gone to the beach. Then I could have avoided this whole mess.

Right now I'm left in a lethargic self-deprecating mood, lazy and tired and sore. There are so many things I need to be doing, from unpacking to school preparations. And I am so so tired of sitting around, but at the same time I don't have the energy or desire to do anything. Throw in some clouds, maybe some noontime rain for good measure, and it's looking like an all around depressing day.

Chin up, though, lass, it's not all bad! It's been neat to have all six of us living in the same house again, however briefly/unorganizedly/diseasedly. And the porch door is open, and a cool breeze is blowing off the Tennessee, August though it is, and I have you, all of you, so many of you!!!

I can't explain what it was like walking into my apartment after my stay at camp! I'm on the emotional high, this emotional loss, this twirling of emotions as I process another summer gone, trying to etch each memory, each person, in my limited memory, already thinking about the moments I was to late to save, and there, there on my wall in my tiny two-bedroom, pictures of everyone here, of my friends smiling and laughing a hugging and dancing and WOW! Wow to going from place to place and Wow to the smiling people greeting me and Wow to the friendships we've formed together and WOW for all the memories I've yet to form and yet to forget.

Am I losing my mind?

This is probably not the update you were wanting, and it's certainly not the update I wish I was writing.

I have adventures upon adventures to lavish upon your willing ears, but for all I can think about is the growling of my stomach and the pounding my head.

Lindsey, Graham, Meagan, and I had dinner at my grandmother's Thursday evening. Around 1:30 that night I awoke with serious stomach issues, and began vommiting a few hours later. I went to sign some papers at UNA Friday morning, and I threw up there, too. I got to my parents' house around 11 to discover Lindsey exhibiting the same symptoms. We assumed it was something we'd eaten, and spent the next couple hours in bed. By that afternoon we felt things were on the upswing, but it was short-lived. By that evening our symptoms had gotten worse, and we discovered that our cousin Katie was also sick, knocking out the food poisoning theory. Unable to hold down any liquids or medicine, dehydration became a serious worry.

Around 6 Saturday morning Meagan took us to the ER to get IVs and a diagnosis. Both of us were dehydrated and my electrolytes were out of wack. They released us after a few hours, with instructions to have only clear liquids for the next six hours and Gatorades and such for the 12 hours after that.

I've been on a fairly strick Tylenol regime because every time I forget my temperature soars to 102 point something-or-other, and then I get the shivers. I've become less nauseous and even ate a piece of toast about half an hour ago. Lindsey's back to vommitting. I started my period today as well, as if I didn't have enough going on. Overall, we're pretty miserable. If you have an extra minute send us a message or a prayer or some good energies... we need them. We missed Uncle Bill's wake, his funeral, seeing Grandma and Great-Aunt Marie, and my other grandmother's 75th birthday.

So I'll just pretend that I know which way to bend...

I carry you with me into the world, into the smell of rain & words that dance between people & for me, it will always be this way, walking the light, remembering being alive together.

Kings and queens, philosophers have tried so hard to find...

Another birthday has passed, and all is well.

My first summer classes ever are finished; I wish I'd realized that I enjoy these short terms earlier. I feel like I've retained a lot more than I usually do. I think my grades will be pretty okay.

This has been one of the best birthdays I've ever had (and it has lasted a good five days!). Thursday was the actual day, as well as my last day of regular classes. Thank you for all of my birthday calls and messages and text messages!!! That night I went to DPs with Graham, Moonie; Mom and Dad came after a while, then Jeff and (what a suprise!) Jessica. We had a really nice/loud time, ending with a round of kamikazes before Jeff, Jessica, and I went to the apartment for some Mario Kart and cherry-cheesecake ice cream (and joined there Mr. Gunn). Friday after exams Jessica and I went to Huntsville with Mom, Moonie, and Meagan to visit Rosemary and Anne Marie (and their kids and such, Samantha and Alex and Katie and Joey). We all went to shoot pool at The Creek, a bar owned by one of Rosie's friends. We took a late night dip in the pool, goofing off with the kids and having a pretty fantastic time. We left in the morning to prepare for a lake party! Britni, Mark, Lance, and Odin got in that morning and met us at Grandmomma's. Jessica and O'Brian were there, and later Jennifer and Jennifer came by. Jonathan made it towards the end, and of course Graham, Moonie, and Meagan were there. Scott, Mike, and Uncle Keith also spent the day on the lake, which was great. Oh, in case you were wondering, future self, there were also a lot of dogs: Sunny, Bosco, Bella, Odin, and Abby, all present.

We spent most of the day basking in the sun and taking the occasional dip in the Tennessee. Towards the end of the day, after burgers and hot dogs, lots of beer and a no-hands cupcake eating contest (which Mark totally dominated), the family and adults went home and me, Jonathan, Lance, Mark, and Britni cleaned up and decided to have a long intense conversation on the porch (where we were joined by Jeff, too). After that we went back to my apartment and played cards and the 64 (sans Jonathan, plus O'Brian again) before heading to bed.

Sunday morning was lovely; we the traditional French toast breakfast and fresh canteloupe. I actually woke up around 7 and came over here to have a cup of coffee with my mother, which was really nice and peaceful. The days was lazy and nice; the Birmingham crew left, Jeff went to work, Jeff came back, we finished the Death Note series and went to bed.

Today I lunched at Applebees with my grandmother, took a long nap, sorted some laundry, and ended up at my parents house. I'll be leaving in a few minutes to have dinner with Nick and one of our clients.

Tomorrow I leave for Special Session, and I couldn't be less prepared or more excited.

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice...

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds,
It coazes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jabs.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from teh grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me once place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea...

"The marriage of two derogatory terms, fag and hag, symbolis[es] the union of the world’s most popular objects of scorn, homosexuals and woman, creat[ing] a moniker that most of those who wear it find inoffensive, possibly because it smacks of solidarity." - Margaret Cho

I've posted this quote before, but I think it's worth re-visiting. I'm working on/just starting a paper with that as my jumping point. Here's hoping there are enough sources. I think I might do something about feminism in Nathaniel Hawthorne's work; we discussed it today in class. It's amazing to me now (after a lecture that partially focused on this, specifically in The Scarlett Letter) that this particular aspect of his writing wasn't discusses when we read it in high school. In fact, I recall very little being taught about women's issues in high school. I suppose it's much to radical a topic for young teenage minds-- or maybe I wasn't a willing receptacle? I will give them the benefit of a doubt.

Yesterday was the Florence Pride Picnic; it was very nice. I thought I would know more people there, but there were really more people from the older community. Father's Day probably wasn't the best Sunday to plan a picnic, either.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I was the accidental feminist the other day; Jeff and I spent the night at my parents' house last week, and I couldn't find a bra to save my life, so... yeah. It was kinda fun, though. I crossed my arms for the first hour of the day or so before the f-it switch was flipped and I was transported to the radicals who began the movement.

* * *

Those were the days when the Earth was flat, and tourists flocked to the edges with their polaroid cameras and their loud children and their SUVs. And some came to cry, because it was beautiful. And some came to scoff, because nothing impresses some people. And some came to jump, becasue the edge of the world played the same song as the San Fransisco Bridge, if there had been a San Fransisco Bridge. If there had been a San Fransisco...
And Cam came to scoff, her and a van of silver-spoon misfits; instead she cried, and she didn't try to jump, but she almost fell-- different means to the same end, she thought, as the guard pulled her from the fence.