Tamarika

Katrina's woes

Winston has a personal account. Read it here.

Gotta go

Am heading out to my first official day of work. Even though I feel prepared: courses ready, syllabus copied, lists organized, office set up, ID card and parking tags in place, Dr. T.J. on my office door - even though - I had a fitful sleep last night waking every hour with no thought in particular, wide-eyed and shallow breaths.

When I finally decided I'd better get up as no more sleep would be coming, it felt like my birthday or one of those wedding days (I've had a few of those!) or the day of the dissertation defense back in 1997. Exciting but scary, energy flowing right down to my finger-tips, eyes wide and stomach bubbling with anticipation.

In and out of confidence I go. Is my hair too gray? Why didn't I lose all those pounds of weight? After all I had a whole year of forced sabbatical - I could have, should have, would have ... do I remember what I knew, what I know, will I know? And then the other voice whispers through the aggressive and hostile self-interrogation: I am what I am, who I am and that is and will be okay ... after all "they" hired me so "they" must have some confidence in my ability, knowledge, competence, worth ... surely?

I splash water on my face, look out at the tall, strong, old, oak tree that towers way above our three floor apartment building and hear the clink, clunk of acorns plopping on the patio, sidewalk, bird feeder. My cave will be here when I come home tonight. Molly and Ada will greet me and scratch at their post with delight hoping for a treat. Breathe in and out slowly. After all this is what I have been wanting for ... is it ... eleven years? Once, I traveled thousands of miles to achieve it. I've worked hard and dreamed of it.

And so, okay, all right, I mean: yes indeed, I deserve it,

don't I?

Saturday blog travels

Hey, United States:

Wise up here

I discover an "interesting perspective on the deep priorities of existence" here ...

This story affected me personally as a professor and mama:

A mom I know once told me that her son, impatient to evade her attentions on the day he was delivered to college, whispered to her, "DING! Your child is done!" as he disappeared into a flock of freshmen.
Read more ... here

I always thought I was a groupie but, no, it's more like "suck-up behavior."

And, finally: "I didn’t want to scare my family so I added 10 years to my life in the above obituary," says Danny as he shares his interesting perspective on the deep priorities of existence.

To miss is not to be here ...

Last week I was privileged to receive an "individually signed and numbered" chapbook: The Body Aches, from Ernesto Priego. What a gift! I particularly liked this one:

I have nothing

Objects reflect an absence

an anguish

to fulfill

a wound

We all know this

To miss is not to be here:

a void

a crack

a blank line.

I think of you, staring at the silence

Thank you, Ernesto.

You have Them

Quote of the day:

I've often found that getting these thoughts and feelings down on paper (or screen) and out into the world is the first step of getting past them. Being able to take them, look at them like this means that YOU have THEM, and THEY don't have YOU, if you see what I mean. 

Andy at Jean from This Too.

Please choose the right stuff!

One of my favorite episodes of West Wing is when:

President Bartlett is about to address a gathering of radio talk show hosts in the White House. As he enters the hall, they all stand and applaud. All, except one: a blond woman, wearing a green suit. At first, her presence seems to rattle the President. He loses his train of thought several times before he finally speaks directly to the sitting talk show host. “Excuse me, Doctor,” he says. “It’s good to have you here. Are you an M.D.?” “A Ph.D.,” she replies. “In psychology?” he asks. “No, sir,” she says. “Theology?” “No.” “Social work?” “I have a Ph.D. in English literature,” she says."I’m asking,” continues Bartlett, “Because on your show people call in for advice and you go by the title Doctor, and I didn’t know if maybe your listeners were confused by that and assumed you had advanced training in psychology, theology, or health care.”

“I don’t believe they are confused. No, sir,” she responds.

 

“Good,” says Bartlett. “I like your show. I like how you call homosexuality an abomination.”

“I don’t say homosexuality is an abomination, Mr. President,” she replies. “The Bible does.”

 

“Yes, it does!” Bartlett exclaims. “Leviticus 18:22.

I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I had you here. I’m interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She’s a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?” 

 

He continues: “While thinking about that, can I ask another? My chief of staff, Leo McGarry, insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself or is it OK to call the police? Here’s one that’s really important, ‘cause we’ve got a lot of sports fans in this town. Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean, Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point? Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads?

The lesson I draw from this is:

All modern Christians (or other religious groups for that matter) choose what they prefer from the Bible.

You can't hide behind the Bible.

So please choose the right stuff.

Blog longing

The finest hour, that I have seen, is the one, that comes between - the edge of night, and the break of day - that's when the darkness rolls away ... Kate Wolf

Come to think of it, I've always been an early morning person.

As I move towards a new life I think back on my former teachers. Swami Ji taught me to do that. Here's Mike who taught me that you can do anything you set your mind to. He was a wrestler who became a counselor. Wasn't he always a counselor though? Pinning people down gently and looking directly in their eyes. Here he is a little over a year ago with Mar-Mar at my farewell party. Mar-Mar shared her life and death with me. She accompanies me to my new position.

Janna found a place in my heart from the moment I interviewed her. She taught me so many things over the years. Lately I have been thinking that in a way Janna taught me how to allow myself to need people. Ah yes, she and I have shared many a good cry together.

Janna, Mike and Mar-Mar. They all called me "Boss" as if it was my name. Mar-Mar called me that until she died. Never before has that word meant so much to me - when they uttered it, I almost felt loved!

Yes, I find myself blog-longing as I attend orientations, set up the office, and organize my new work schedule. Each day I return to the blog-world and sigh with relief to find all of you still here, writing and reading, commenting and sharing, raging and laughing (LOL, ROFL), crying and linking, blog-rolling and philosophizing, joking, sharing life, gods, birth, death, pictures still and moving, poetry and sounds. It soothes my tired, frightened, and wandering soul and makes me feel whole again. I have so much to tell you but will learn a way to jot things down as they happen so that I won't lose precious moments to share. And if I don't always manage to comment in the beginning, I am still here - reading and reacting, thinking and changing as a result of your words.

A joke

Just in, from Jack:

How many members of the Bush administration does it take to change a light bulb?
Ten.
1. One to deny that a light bulb needs to be changed; 2. One to attack the patriotism of anyone who says the light bulb needs to be changed; 3. One to blame Clinton for burning out the light bulb; 4. One to tell the nations of the world that they are either for changing the light bulb or for eternal darkness; 5. One to give a billion dollar no-bid contract to Halliburton for the new light bulb; 6. One to arrange a photograph of Bush, dressed as a janitor, standing on a step ladder under the banner "Bulb Accomplished;"  7. One administration insider to resign and in detail reveal how Bush was literally "in the dark" the whole time; 8. One to viciously smear No. 7; 9. One surrogate to campaign on TV and at rallies on how George Bush has had a strong light-bulb-changing policy all along; 10. And finally, one to confuse Americans about the difference between screwing a light bulb and screwing the country.

Let the show begin ... am I ready?

Here's a list:

Preparing courses. Nose to the grind. Swinking! Reading material, organizing schedules, catching up on the latest and greatest, printing and copying, copying and pasting, thinking and yawning, walking up and down, talking to myself. Drinking coffee and remembering. Typing, fuzzy brain, eyes burning, shoulders aching, swinging back in the chair, arms extended, stretch, stand up, sit down, start again. Checking out dates, times and places, thinking up assignments, questions for quizzes, will there be a final? Term papers and guidelines. Attendance policy, late-comers and early goers. Blog longing. Calendars, clocks, time forward, time past, time now, but for how long?

And life goes on

Quote of the day:

People pull together when something like this happens. People take care of each other. And it's awful that so many people had nice comfortable lives one day and all their stuff, their beds, their kitchens... the goofy crafts and refrigerator art the kids brought home from school, the wedding pictures, the junk mail on the dryer, the unwrapped birthday presents in the bottom dresser drawer, the canoe, the bicycles, everything... vanished.  But neighbors and family find them a place to sleep and life goes on.

Read more here ...