because i'm sick of looking at my ugly mug (& you probably are too)...here's a photo of georgia o'keefe instead

On realism in art, Georgia O'keefe says: "Nothing is less real than realism. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things. "


Georgia O'keefe is one of those larger-than-life artists that I hadn't really cared about until a few months ago when I started working on a series of abstract landscapes. I checked out a book on her from the library because I was looking for new ways to combine colors. The book weighed a good 20+ pounds and was only the first half of a 2 volume set. I guess I wasn't attracted to her before because she was TOO popular, to the point of trendy. But then I got interested in her lesser known work and sketches. Turns out, she's one helluva woman. I mean, look at her--


By the way, this is the road to her house:



If she were still alive, I think I'd go visit.

images from: http://www.typepad.com/t/trackback/1345370

In anticipation of Self Portrait Tuesday: my pathetic sick self

The challenge this month for SPT is "All Of Me." Well, here I am. Day 6 of a virus that seems to be swallowing me whole.

Obviously, I have no dignity left.

day 4

(clickon photo for larger image)

Tonight I did a collage on the coffee table because I am tired of laying on the couch, bored with watching tv, and can't think well enough to do anything that I should be doing.
I have no explanation for this collage other than it is made up of images and colors that I am attracted to.

the same street that earlier today two cross-country skiers made their way down the middle of the road in the middle of the day in the middle of town

Tonight I went for my first walk since Wednesday. I know I shouldn't have, but I missed my dog and the snow and fresh air and movement. It was just a short hike around the block, and despite the objections of my throat and lungs, it felt good--a deep blanket of feathery snow beneath my feet and a deeper darkness of stars above my head. In town I see so little of stars, but tonight their presence reminded me of my old place. While Anu rooted around in the snow I stopped and stared at the scanty pin-pricks of light with head tilted back--reminding me of a line by Joyce Carol Oates, "a scattering of lights like startled thoughts." It felt good to stand still in the cold air on a quiet night-time street. No cars, just silent snow on top of snow. In the darkness I found myself, for the first time, satisfied with the sky above me--even though it wasn't the country sky I left behind, a sky so heavy with stars that it used to, literally, steal my breath away on a regular basis. But still, even here, there is sky--where the bare branches of an oak tree, spread across the inky cosmos like miniature lightning bolts, are the only barrier between me and complete surrender.

the flu

i am so sick i feel like a puddle of dirty melted snow.

my ass has been kicked.

This is the winter I love.

It's in the 20's with big fat snowflakes falling from the sky. I'm not as interested in the sub-zero digets-- but this--this is the kind of winter I can live with.

run-on

Of course it so happens that the morning I think of carrying my camera with me just in case I see something cool but forget the camera at home is the day that I walk to school along a snow covered lake lit by the most amazing sunrise I have seen in a very long time and since I didn't have the camera with me I can only try to tell you about its softness, hazy along the edges and hot pink in the center that gave way to waves of blue-grey then fading into a color I can only describe as luminous.

brief moments of thought...

There are moments in the day when I think to myself: Yes--I can do this! Last night was slightly productive. I went to bed looking forward to today and woke up still feeling optimistic. But it is now after 8 (pm) and let's face it...I'm lacking all sense of reality. Because there are these other moments, like now, when I think to myself: I'm f#%*ed! It's impossible! On a daily basis I find myself stripped naked of time. Meanwhile, the knot in my stomach is growing. It is almost March.

It's my grandpa's birthday tomorrow. My grandma's throwing a birthday party for him, but they live two hours away. It's just another thing that gets in the way of everything else I should be doing. My grandpa's been sick lately. He might not be around next year.

Life does not wait. My other grandpa died 8 months ago. Life does not wait.

someone's enjoying the severe weather alert...

This is Anu, my wonderfully hardy (hearty) wolfie girl. And today marks her first indoor nap since moving. She is rather happy about it and is full of groans and sighs and stretches.

I went outside to take her for a walk this morning--the negative 40's are no joke. There are spider webs of frost on everything--a surreal deep freeze. We only made it halfway down the alley before she was lifting her paws from the cold and my heart went soft, my hard resolve to make her an outside dog once and for all slipped out from under me...and so now she's peacefully tucked in our bed with a full belly and plenty of covers, kisses, and snuggles. Yes, she's very happy...and sleeping.

Beauty and Love

this is Viscosa, my little Mexican beauty.

Self Portrait Tuesday: All Of Me on V-day

In ode of "all of me, " here I am after a long day of slingin' roses.
Once a florist, always a florist--it's like ridin' a bike, they say. It's amazing what you'll do for family. And much to my husband's dismay he's now married into it.
Bah-humbug. We doooo love Valentine's Day.
This picture kinda reminds me of a bug that's drawn to the light.
Dumb bugs.

February 13th

Today I have to work at the flower shop and probably tomorrow too. After all, Valentine's Day is upon us and it is time for this x-flower elf to come out from behind her computer and books to make lovely bouquets of roses and lilies and yes, even carnations too. Most people don't like carnations because they're cheap and not very fancy and they have a weird smell. But I like them. They remind me of being a kid--when life was a little less complicated, when I could walk into a cooler full of flowers just for fun. Not that being a kid was easy; I wish it was so. Oh, where is this going??

To say: "I grew up in a flower shop" is kinda like saying: "I went to Catholic school." Both are true--and if you've experienced either, then you know what I mean.

But anyway--duty calls--
and off I go... to the thorny under-belly of love.

soup

Old buildings are cool, but after 4 hours of sitting in the gallery I came home frozen solid. 2 1/2 hours later and I think my nose has finally thawed. I give the hot bowl of soup and cup of tea all the credit. Well, that and the space-heater. But the soup--mmmm. Sicilian lentil with tomatoes and portabello mushrooms and fennel, oh yeah--it hit the spot. But now I'm being swallowed by sleepiness, a dangerous feeling because I vowed productivity today.

won't..........give.......
up........
yet.

That's me, the loner goat:

cuz
I
missed
the
party.

couches

10 am and here I sit, finally, with a cup of coffee. I slept on the couch last night because V. was snoring. He doesn't snore very often and when he does I can usually whisper to him and he'll stop. But not last night. Hmm, so I slept on the couch and didn't get up until after 9 this morning. And the poor dog is probably waiting to be walked even though when I look out the window into the yard I see that she is still tucked warmly in her dog house. Today I'm feeling slightly weird. I never get sick because I don't allow it. But today...my head feels swimmy, my throat feels puffy, my limbs feel heavy, and my joints creaky. So there ya have it--while my brain-mass is levitating into the clouds, my body is sinking into the ground. I'm feeling slightly discombobulated and can only hope that this small, but potent, cup of coffee can pull me back together.

Last night I dreamt that I was at a family reunion. My uncle was dressed up as a plastic dinosaur and Vinny was throwing pebbles at him and my grandma who was laying on the beach on a lawn chair. I was standing in ankle deep lake water with my sister saying: "I wannnnna go hoooooomme!"

My apologies. I think I've started repeating myself.

But I'm going to get to work now.

1. plan class
2. WRITE!

sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

"Tag"

The word "tag" reminds me of being a kid--back when I was a tom-girl with blonde hair all the way down to my butt. One of my favorite games in gym was flag-football. I remember running, hair flying out behind me, trying to dodge any hands that came too close to the plastic flags stuck to my waist with the velcro belt that the gym teacher, Mrs. Stebe, handed out at the beginning of the hour. We played outside in the parking lot. But what flag-football reminds me of is a t-shirt that I was particularly fond of in first or second grade. It was red with a picture of Pebbles on it and read: "Anything boys can do, girls can do better." Even though I've grown up to believe in equality, at the time I was VERY proud of that shirt. It even started a "rumble." Boys against the girls in a game of TACKLE football. It got too rough and the game was brought to an quick end by the teachers. We were fierce! But I'll admit, even today, I am happy to have been the instigator of an elementary school revolution. The word "tag" reminds me of these sorts of things. Maybe that's why I like the word.

So anyway, here it is (thanks tara!):

What were 3 things when you were little you wanted to be when you grew up?

1. A Solid Gold Dancer--and I practiced often! Imagine this: 7 year old girl, brown shag carpet, red leotard with rainbow stripes, and a killer stereo system. How could I not want it?!
   
2. A Piano Teacher--I still remember standing on the curb in the sun waiting for my sister to get home from school. I think I must have wanted to tell her of my career decision, but all I remember is talking to myself about it. Oh, I had such passion to teach! It's no coincidence that it's what I'm doing now (although with words, not pianos). I remember the dirt and the scrubby grass, the tar, the blue sky, and my heart nearly leaping out of my chest in anticipation of growing up. I love that feeling. I still experience it. :)
   
3. A Zoologist--I wanted to go to Africa and study the gorillas like Dian Fossey.

You can live one day over again from your childhood. What day will it be?

The day I tried to build a raft like Huck Finn's. One summer we lived on a lake where I spent a lot of time playing in the woods and pretending to be a run-away. I guess I had a traveler's heart even at a young age. I spent most of the day collecting wood, dragging fallen trees from the woods to the lake. If I could do it over again I'd finish that raft. Who knows where it might have taken me.


You have two minutes (and a mover with you if you need heavy lifting help!) to grab 5 things from your home before it morphs into a polka dotted hobgoblin and hops away. What will you take? (Food/drink/family/friends excluded!)

1. My journals
2. My photo albums
3. My favorite red ceramic mug
4. My little Buddha statue--for good luck. It's about 2 inches tall and it's gone with me on every trip I've taken. Anyway, it would remind me that simplicity is good.
5. The wool cable knit sweater my mom hand-spun and knit for me.

You have to paint one quote on your kitchen wall. What's it going to be?

"Nothing is muddy that RUNS IN TIME..." ~Kerouac

I love this question and if I wasn't living in a rental I'd go ahead and actually paint it.


What is one thing you want to have accomplished by the end of this year?

1. GRADUATE!!!! (oh yeah, you all already know that)
2. I'd also like to travel somewhere interesting--preferably exotic.
   

You are moving to the moon for one year and can only bring one flower with you. What kind will you bring?

This is an interesting question for me because I grew up in a flower shop and spent much of my life working with flowers. As you can imagine, I've acquired quite a few favorites, but if I could have just one? It would be:
a wild iris.

You just received word that aside from one flower, you can also bring five books with you too! Your choices?
(Thank god--I can bring books too!)

1. The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac
2. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
   
3. Wild Mind by Natalie Goldberg
4. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
5. A great big anthology of women writers. But if I don't have time to order it from Amazon before being sent to the moon, then The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and Three By Annie Dillard. Oh, come on--my stack isn't that thick! Can't I have 6 books?!
   

Tag!:
Anyone who won't hate me for tagging! I'm curious about lots of you! Oh, come one. It's fun. It's ok to have fun. ;)

winter morning observation

This morning, well below zero, I watch two Grey Squirrels outside from the perch of my second story window. One looks at me through the glass as he shakes snow from his paws. Their muscles seem a little tense, from the cold. They move stiffly, sending puffs of snow to the ground as they travel the length of the thick tree branch. Today they move more closely together and with less talking than usual.

Watching them, I decide that I like squirrels as much as I like birds. But it is cold, and today, I'm glad I'm neither.

Here's one I bet we can all relate to: (read it out loud for maximum pleasure)

writer's block

the typewriter sits silent, it's as if you've
been betrayed, it's as if a murder has
occurred.
yet words still run through you brain:
"the Spanish bird sings!"
what can
that mean?
at least it's a ripple, even if unusable.

when will the keys
beat into the
paper
again?
it's so easy to die long before the
fact of it.

I look at the machine resting under its black
cover; an unpaid gas bill sleeps on top of
it.

there is a small refrigerator in the
room, it makes the only audible sound
here.

I open it and look inside:
it's empty.

I sit back down in the chair and wait; then I
decide to fool the
typewriter.

I write this
now
with a ballpoint
pen
in a red
notebook;
I am sneaking up on a poem;
there will soon be something for that
frigging
typewriter
to do!

there is a French expression, "without
literature
life is hell."

the glory and power of that!

now let the Spanish bird sing!

~Charles Bukowski. From Slouching Toward Nirvana.

Self Portrait Tuesday: {Personal History--19}

I know I've sentenced myself to no blogging this week, but I skipped Self Portrait Tuesday last week. I know it's not excessively creative, but I like it anyway--so there...

This is a photo of me and my best friend from high school the summer we packed up the truck, my dog, Japhy, and hit the road. We traveled the States together up and down, sideways and crossways for an entire summer.

Right now my class is watching The Motorcycle Diaries, a film about Ernesto "Che" Guavera and Alberto Granada's adventures down the length of South America on a beat up old motorcycle in the 1950's. This photo reminds me that we once took the same sort of journey. And so it's no wonder I watch that film with such longing--even after 4 viewings.

Two years ago Jess was the Maid of Honor in my wedding. This is the photo that I carefully tucked into a locket for her. She cried when she opened it. And I did too.

I've never found a better traveling partner.

Self-inflicted deprivation... (updated, more specific, version)

Dear friends,
I'm cutting myself off from reading blogs for a week. Actually, I'm cutting out all unnecessary reading (and definitely the tv!). I'll miss reading all of your blogs...but oy--I find that I waste incredible amounts of time on the internet. (side note: I do not consider reading blogs a waste of time because I read some really incredible and inspiring blogs--but I am easily distracted and would rather read about all of you than do my own work. If there is one thing I want out of life right now it is to GRADUATE. Sometimes I am afraid to admit to myself just how much work that will involve. I hide behind a lot of things. I am hoping that cutting out a few distractions will help me to face myself and the things I need to accomplish. To be honest, I am scared shitless that I don't have it in me, but maybe that's another story.)

While I was in India I did a 10 day Vipassana (silent meditation). We were not allowed to listen to music, to speak, to read, or to write. It was wonderful--but difficult. Asking a writer not to write?! Oh boy. So this is my self-imposed/created Vipassana since I don't have time for the real thing. I need this. No more white-noise--at least for a while.

I'll be back next week!
love,
jessie

Got it?

"...every sign is also a thing, for that which is not a thing is nothing at all; but not every thing is also a sign. And this in this distinction between things and signs, when we speak of things, we shall so speak that, although some of them may be used to signify something else, this fact shall not disturb the arrangement we have made to speak of things as such first and of signs later. We should bear in mind that now we are to consider what things are, not what they signify beyond themselves."

~ Augustine of Hippo

never mind me.

I want to say something wonderful and uplifting and interesting-- but all I can think of to say is that I like Aristotle better than Plato and there are plenty of things that I like better than both. I don't usually pray, but maybe I should start...please god get me through this, please!

My body is vibrating from boredom. I can't stop complaining. Oh, this sucks.

F*d

At this moment I am frustrated. Frustrated that I don't have time to write. Frustrated that I don't have time for friends. Frustrated that I don't have time for family. Frustrated, Frustrated, Frustrated! (yes, I'm having a temper-tantrum!)

Health Nut--Day 1

got drunk.
smoked 3 cigarettes.
stuck to diet (except for substitution of healthy snack for cocktails).

Excuse:
1st day of Lit. Crit. = 200+ bible-thin pages of the Norton Anthology of Literary Criticism (in miniscule print) and a presentation--by next week.

unhealthy thoughts...

Ok--so today is the big day--the day I start shaping up a life that's spiraled into a big, fat, smokey, sloppy mess. I am:

1. quitting smoking (yes, again...for real this time) and...
2. starting a diet (oh, i hate that word--ok, so what i meant to say is that i'm changing my atrocious eating habits.)

yay...good for me. except i'm not feeling as excited about it today as i was yesterday when i was still in the "planning" stages. i have these nicotine patches that i'm about ready to paste all over myself--aaaahhh! i put my first one on this morning and i swear to god it's making my heart beat faster which is only causing me to want a cigarette more!

as for the food bit--well, that i am completely ready for. i've gained 20 pounds in the last year and a half--20! i have a short list of things i can blame it on, but what it comes down to is that i am absolutely uncomfortable.

and why am i writing about all this? i have no idea--maybe to keep me from going next door and begging for a smoke. oh, and if i could have it my way--i'd spend this first week sleeping. i figure that's the best way to avoid self-conflict. too bad it's not an option. :|-

yeah...

Saturday Heaven Exists in an Old Brick Building at 426 Bemidji Avenue.

Well, after a month of being closed, I'm back at my Saturday afternoon gig: working the gallery. It felt good to get here with my hands full with a latte, water, lunch, with my too-full backpack sliding precariously down my arm as I stood on the stone steps trying to unlock this old, brick building. And upon entering I was greeted by a smell that can only exist in places like this-- a former library that was built a hundred years ago and is now inhabited by artists. It is this smell of dust and dark wood and old plaster walls and art that instantly brings me comfort--every time.

Down stairs it is warm in my little corner studio--but upstairs, where I now sit, it is cold, cold, cold. Light floods through large windows, the glass rattling with every truck and bad muffler that goes by. I listen to Cuban music to warm me up from the inside. As new faces come in I am each time amazed by the incredible characters that inhabit this town. This place draws them out from where ever they hide. Maybe it's being surrounded by art that opens the space for such satisfying conversation. I don't know--but whatever it is, this place is a little piece of Saturday heaven. I'm glad to be back.

Synchronicities...

Ok, it's time to 'fess up. About a week ago I started a "secret" blog. Why do I need a secret blog you ask? Well, because I came across this and wanted to space to write about certain things that I wasn't sure I wanted everyone in my day-to-day life to know about. I'm not even sure how I lucked upon this community of writers; although I'm guessing that it might have been through this.

Well, it turns out that I don't write anything on my SECRET BLOG that I wouldn't write here. But the really amazing thing is that in a world of thousands and thousands of blogs--these people are overlapping! Maybe the good thing about starting a secret blog is that I wouldn't have realized this otherwise. Such an incredibly large world and these like-minded artists and thinkers are FINDING EACH OTHER! How amazing is that?!

What an absolutely beautiful web these strands create--a web I've followed through her and her and her and her and her and her and her and her................yeah, you get the point.

uh-ohhh...first it was Vinny, now it's the cat!

Can you see her? Oh, our little black cat, Viscosa, has turned into a couch potato! She started watching Animal Planet with me today while I was eating lunch and hasn't budged since!

Great. Just great.

Well, at least I'm acting my age. How creepy is that?

You Are 31 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Self Portrait Tuesday: Personal History...Strength

I made this collage about five years ago and it is one of those things that could probably be thrown out--but I don't because it reminds me of who I am, where I'm from, and what I'm capable of.

The picture in the upper right is a photo of me when I was 18 and had just moved to Oregon. I hiked the PCT almost every weekend. And when I wasn't doing that I was hiking trails along the ocean.

The photo below it is of me standing on the roof of the house I built. When we started (with the basement) I was afraid of heights. But by the end the roof rafters became my favorite place.

There's a picture of my strong-stout-Austrian great-great grandmother holding my great-grandma. My great-grandma lived to be nearly a 105 and was able to care for herself until the end. She was also the most content woman I ever met.

There's a picture of Gandhi and Amelia Earhart. There's one of Kali Ma, the ocean, and of me and my old dog Japhy. There's a picture of Buddha drawn by a Nepalese child that I was befriended by and another of when I lived in the desert. There's a photo of an owl because I was born in winter.

In the picture in the middle of the bottom row, the one where I'm wearing a white wooly sweater, I stand with my arm around a girl whose family I stayed with while in the Himalayas. She was feisty...got mad easily and one night threw pots and pans in the kitchen. Such crashing! We became fast friends and would have been happy to temporarily trade lives.

There are pictures of strangers whose lives have inspired me, pictures with friends, one that I'm hanging out the window of a train, one that I'm sitting silently on a mountain top, and in another, paddling a kayak over water smooth as glass.

There are a lot of reasons I don't throw this thing away--even if it has started to fade.

writing in class

I often have my class freewrite and I write along with them. However in past classes I found that I was usually too nervous or distracted to really get into it myself--until this class. I don't know what it is that's different, but it is wonderful. For some reason, for teaching only, I use a yellow legal pad. Maybe I use them because I can get them free out of the faculty cabinet. Maybe because they're bigger than normal notebooks; because they're easy to flip through and to tear pages out of. Or maybe because they lend to an illusion of professionalism. Whatever the case--what that yellow piece of paper is to me at 8:15 in the morning, surrounded by 25 others with pens and pencils to paper, scratching, scribbling, thinking--is a little piece of bliss--a moment during the day that my find myself feeling whole.

a step in the right direction

Since the logical way to move on is to move forward... I've gathered myself and my stuff and headed for the office where I now sit--not only to finish what I started but to start what I need to finish. Because of construction detours on campus I tried 5 locked doors before finally walking the long way to a door I have keys to. The place feels a little bit like a fortress today, but that's a good thing. It's quiet in here. Oh-so-quiet.

Thank you Martin Luther King!

Now it's time to get to work.

I've been away from my blog...

...because I've been doing a lot of thinking in my head and writing in my paper journal. And these past few days I've come to a few important realizations. 1) I've been looking for validation in what I write or do or say much too much too often. 2) I feel more real in cyberworld than I do in the real world 3) I've been holding myself back in almost every aspect of my life: friendship, marriage, sex, writing, art, teaching, personal fulfillment, spirituality, which leads to...4) a boat load of self-censorship, which leads to the fact that... 5) I'm bored out of my fu*ki*ng mind!!!

I feel myself shutting down, a listless depression seeping in the cracks. I also feel myself waking up to the realization that something's gotta change. Perhaps easier said than done, but my sister said something to me this weekend that made the air vibrate around me. She said, "Yeah, I think it's time for you to move on." Those words bounced off me a few times before sinking in, but...

I think she's right.

after-thoughts on the beginning

Yesterday morning, as I walked to my first class of the semester, I could not help but think about this girl and her river. I thought about my own journey towards a new beginning and also the fact that I am embarking on (most likely) my last semester at the place I have dedicated the past six years of my life to. I kissed my sleepy dog on the nose goodbye and shut the gate behind me. But instead of crossing a river in warm weather and rain, I walked down the alley, across a parking lot, down a flight of icy stairs, and the rest of the way along a frozen lake-- a white tundra, barren enough for ample breathing space, a dark morning sky resting peacefully on the horizon and stretching in an arch above and beyond me. In the five minutes it took me to get from my house to my classroom my world shifted from street lights and stars to clouds streaked in half-light; shapes silently emerged, while the mild cold maintained stillness in everything but shifting sky.

For a moment I hesitated, taking in all that surrounded me before turning my back to its beauty. I pulled open the heavy glass door and was greeted by silent halls. I unlocked my own dark classroom, turned on the lights, and was confronted by perfect rows of desks--desks soon to be broken up into a haphazard circle of expectant and awaiting students. Content that everything was as it should be I went up to my office where I was met by two professors who, after many, many years of teaching beamed just as much excitement as me. And I thought to myself, that it is these beginnings that I love the most--these beginnings that I hope will last forever.

technological advancements in vocabulary

I've been "tagged" by greensatya and since I am forever greedy for reasons to procrastinate what I should be doing, I'm happy for the invitation to take a break.

4 jobs you've had in your life:

1. produce seller (sold fruits and veggies to Chris Farley whenever he was on a diet--he was an asshole)
   
2. coffee barista (I loved the coffee as much as the people! That was a great job/s)
   
3. floral designer (for 9 years--too long!)
   
4. teacher (my favorite and current job)
   

4 movies you would watch over and over:

1. Herald and Maude (Herald inspired me to learn banjo. I want to grow up to be like Maude)
   
2. When Harry Met Sally (As a matter of fact, I watched it last night!)
   
3. Born into Brothels (my newest favorite--heartbreaking and inspiring all at once)
   
4. Gorillas in the Mist (Dian Fossey is one of my heroes)
   

4 places you have lived:

1. Eugene, Oregon (my first big move across the country at 18)
   
2. In a hogan in the high desert of Arizona
3. In a 10' x 12' shack with no water or electricity in the middle of nowhere
4. Madison, Wisconsin (a little bit on accident, but returned repeatedly)

4 tv shows you love to watch:

1. Free Style
2. Animal Planet (which show? I don't know--the good ones)
3. Friends (ok, ok, I admit it!)
4. Northern Exposure (dang, why don't they produce that one anymore???)

(note: two months ago I got cable for the first time in 13 years. I admit, I'm still tv ignorant but, in my book, that's a good thing.)

4 places you have been on vacation:

1. India (but I think I was there for too long to call it a vacation)
2. Malaysia (a short, but happy accident)
   
3. England, Ireland, France (in 1999)
   
4. Italy (for our honeymoon in 2003)
   

4 of your favorite foods:

1. Samosas (oh--I'm sooooooo hungry for samosas!!!)
2. Malai Kofta (why didn't I learn how to cook Indian food???)
3. Potato chips (my true weakness in life)
4. Dilly beans (hot dill pickled string beans--a family recipe that I've been addicted to since I was a kid)
   

4 places you would rather be right now:

1. India (do I have to be picky?)
   
2. Costa Rica (lounging in a hammock overlooking the ocean from a tree house, reading a good book)
   
3. France (drinking a glass of wine or sipping an espresso)
   
4. Gallery hopping in New York (art inspiration!)

Tag--You're it!!

1. Tara Dawn
2. Amber
3. Wenda
4. Erin
5. And the rest of you yahoooooos that read this blog.
   

Thanks Satya!

new blog announcement:

Brian H., fellow writer and friend, has now entered the blogosphere!

teaching jitters...

hmm...I'm just fine, bumbling about my day--and then I get a flash of heat that shoots down my legs and into my hands. Last semester and the semester before I felt so little nervousness that the lack of nervousness made me nervous!

But alas, it turns out that I am regular ol' nervous. Oh good--does that make me normal? haha. What's normal??

Self Portrait Tuesday: traveling soul

As I was laying in bed last night I remembered that it was Tuesday and I had not posted anything for SPT. Instead of getting out from under warm covers, I spent some time thinking: what is my history anyway?

This morning I looked through photos only to find that I have almost no pictures from my childhood. But what I do have is boxes and albums full of photos from my travels. In those pictures I see a deep sense of calm; I see someone who is happy and healthy and glad to be alive. Yes, it's true, I have a traveling soul. I would have liked to collage a timeline of all my journeys, but that would take all day.

So instead, I leave you with a small moment of peace that I found while in Italy. I hope you can feel it too.

One more day.

One more day of "break" left and today I spent it as wisely as possible. A morning hike in the woods with the dogs--it was sunny, the snow was deep. It didn't take us long to get tired from tromp, tromping...but it was good. Complete with a Cheez-its snack sitting in the snow with wet dog noses and warm sun on my face. One for me, two for the dogs, one for me, two for the dogs. Everyone was happy and when we finally made it back to the car the dogs fell fast asleep in the back. At home Anu again fell asleep outside with her chin resting on her raw-hide, too tired to even enjoy it. Thank god for another day of sun. The molecules of my brain and body needed it.

Later I headed down to the studio for some art making. When I finally came home, it felt good to be here. Tonight I spent some time writing in my paper journal. My husband gave me two more art journals for Christmas and since I desire a new beginning for the coming semester I filled a few pages of my current journal--which included making a "schedule" for the coming months. This is a habit of mine--making a schedule that I never seem to keep. But this time I kept it simple with more doodling than unattainable to-do lists. I now have a schedule that boils down to one thing: WRITING. Yes, there is the class I'm taking and the class I'm teaching. They will both get their fair share of attention, but all other moments of my life will be dedicated to one thing, and one thing only...my thesis. Oh, and walking the dog.


The past three weeks have been filled with a lot of wasted time. And of course it's only been in the last couple days that I've finally gotten to the point of being able to relax. I wish I would have used the time better. I let things hang over my head the entire three weeks. I didn't get anything done, yet I wasn't able to really "let go" either. I will pay for my non-productivity over the next several months. But, no matter what, I am going to try to stay calm about whatever the coming semester has in store for me. There are three things I'm promising myself to get through it all with my sanity in tact: getting enough sleep, exercise, and water (well--those things make life sound simple anyway!). I have also decided that it will be best for me to become a mobile writer, to follow the quiet wherever it leads me--whether it be my desk at home, my office, the studio, the library, or a coffee shop. I'm going to get up early, before my husband does, and write. This semester will require music, sun, and definitely a few deep breathes once in awhile.

And tomorrow--my last day of stolen freedom...I don't know, but I think I will spend the morning reading, savoring one last book of my own choosing, another long walk in the snow (and hopefully sun), some writing, and maybe even a nap.

For now, it's time for bed.

THE SUN! THE SUN! THE SUN!!!!

Ohhhh, the sun is out! This morning I walked wolfie under a sky that was trying to shake off its shroud and finally--it has! Snow falls like glitter from tree branches making me feel like I live in a snow globe (one with a kennel in the back yard).

This morning I'm going to get a long awaited haircut, then make copies for the first week of class. I've got music on, I'm drinking a good cup of coffee. Wow--amazing how just a little bit of sun makes even "every day" seem extraordinary.

taking advice

Today my horoscope in the Star Tribune reads: "It'll be your choice today as to whether you want to roll up your sleeves and get the jobs on the table done or rest on your laurels and let things pile up even further. Take your pick."

Before reading that I had already decided on the rolling-up-the-sleeves bit, my horoscope just confirmed it. And since, at this point, I need to feel at least a small sense of accomplishment I'm going to get my class planned. I have so far already written this semester's syllabus. Now it's on to writing up the first assignment and the big research assignment.

I want to write about the challenges in making this semester a success and about how I find personal satisfaction in getting people to enjoy writing (especially if they hated it in the past). I want to write about how I hope to someday feel like this at the beginning of each semester and about the way I hope it gets a little easier when I can focus on just teaching instead of juggling my energies between both teaching and being a student. Teaching energizes me. Being a student, lately, drains me.

I want to write about my goals for the coming semester, the way I found peace walking through fresh snow this morning, and the way it felt like going to church--only better. I want to write about finding a balance in my life--physically, mentally, spiritually.

I want to write about a lot of things--but first I'm going to take the advice of my horoscope so I can breathe a little easier and maybe even experience some of that balance first-hand.

nine pounds of luggage and a banjo...

Today the coffee is bitter. And it tastes good that way. It's brewed dark enough so that even with unhealthy amounts of cream it changes only a few shades--the color of cinnamon. I am hiding in my writing room in an orange glow of light. It is still grey outside--for so many days now that I've lost count. And although I never sewed any curtains over break, I did buy 2 yards of fabric for a dollar...a sheer golden/yellow/orange that hangs doubled over with rough edges from a curtain rod. With candles burning it gives the perfect illusion of sunlight--warm and soft. I've shut the door and put music on. I like this room and, in a way, never want to leave it.

Then again, I've started reading a book, Maiden Voyages: Writings of Women Travelers, that makes me want to leave immediately. I'm reading from the memoir of Maud Parrish, Nine Pounds of Luggage. This book makes me feel a little trapped; it makes me wish I felt a little more alive--directly, and not through a book.

At the turn of the (20th) century Maud Parrish left her ill-fated marriage and set off to the Yukon with "nine pounds of luggage" and a banjo. She writes:

"Some see life in black and white; others--and they're the lucky ones--in old-gold hues. But the life I knew then made me see red. Wanderlust can be the most glorious thing in the world sometimes, but when it knaws and pricks at your innards, especially in spring, with your hands and feet tied, it's awful. So I left. Without telling a soul."

She writes about Alaska as being an exhilarating atmosphere where "the air was electric, and the people were electric too, one hundred per cent alive..." And for a second I fall 11 years back in time--when I hopped freights from Minnesota to Alaska, bathed in wild rivers and jumped moving trains--life was bigger than any ailments of the head or heart. I look up from the book and can't help but feel a little trapped by the glass in the window.

Sometimes I am amazed by the "normal" turn my life has taken--and sometimes, yes, it feels awful.

Looking for Inspiration...

It's been a frustrating day of non-writing. As promised to myself, I've definitely put in the hours sitting here in front of my computer, but without luck. In search of inspiration I picked up this book. I bought it in India and it traveled in my backpack much of the way. It is well worn with thin, yellowish pages, printed and bound in Calcutta.

However, I am not reading it. I'm smelling it. (yes, really).

Page 117 smells like the white marble floors and aluminum cups of a restaurant I frequented in Delhi--the one that was 2 steps down from a busy street where endless streams of pedestrians, beggars, bicycle rickshaws, and even an elephant went by. There was a high ceiling with fans going constantly round and round, everything in constant motion. There was marble on the walls as well, grey veins breaking the monotany of white. I often went there to write, would order a mango lassi or chai. Across the street was another restaurant with the best samosas, but populated only with men--I would order them to go. And a little further away, was the bookstand where I found this book.

Page 243 smells like a small shop in Mysore where I tried on my first sari. They too had white marble floors, but the walls were covered from floor to ceiling in every color imaginable. Fuscia, teal, blue, green, orange, purple, red. Yards upon yards of fabric some embellished with gold thread, sometimes sequins. Two women helped me clumsily wrap the fabric round and round then fold, fold, fold into small pleats before tucking it at the waist and finally bringing it around my shoulders.

Page 166 smells like the air in the foothills of the Himalayas. An equal combination of the Ganges, cow shit, and sand.

Page 57 smells like the guest house I spent my first week in after arriving. Fluorescent lights, Gold Flake cigarettes, brushing teeth with bottled water, an empty backpack yet to be broken in.

Page 213 smells like Kota, Rajasthan--of incense and women behind veiled windows and dark doors. It smells like the museum where I gazed at miniature oil paintings, all in a row, hanging on dark wooden walls. Historical treasures slowly, slowly rotting in the humid heat. Lower on the page, it smells like young boys running down narrow, dirt streets.

Page 282 smells like not wanting to return home.

Page 3 smells like wishing I could be there now.


So this is what I have...image after image after image. A quilt whose pieces are haphazard, random, and small--pieces I have not yet made sense of.

Ganesha: The Elephant God of success, Destroyer of Obstacles

Ganesha has won himself a place of honor on my desk. Why? Because Ganesha understands writing.



"Ganesha's head symbolizes the Atman or the soul, which is the ultimate supreme reality of human existence, and his human body signifies Maya or the earthly existence of human beings. The elephant head denotes wisdom and its trunk represents Om, the sound symbol of cosmic reality. In his upper right hand Ganesha holds a goad, which helps him propel mankind forward on the eternal path and remove obstacles from the way. The noose in Ganesha's left hand is a gentle implement to capture all difficulties.

The broken tusk that Ganesha holds like a pen in his lower right hand is a symbol of sacrifice, which he broke for writing the Mahabharata. The rosary in his other hand suggests that the pursuit of knowledge should be continuous. The laddoo (sweet) he holds in his trunk indicates that one must discover the sweetness of the Atman. His fan-like ears convey that he is all ears to our petition. The snake that runs round his waist represents energy in all forms. And he is humble enough to ride the lowest of creatures, a mouse."
(http://hinduism.about.com/library/weekly/aa083000a.htm)

I especially like the explanation of the goad (to help "propel mankind forward on the eternal path and remove obstacles from the way") and noose ("a gentle implement to capture all difficulties."), the pen ("a symbol of sacrifice") that he broke for writing the Mahabharata (he's a writer himself!), and the ladoo (reminding us that one must discover the sweetness of the soul). These are important aspects of the writing life. It's good to have a god on your side. I'll leave offerings.

Ok...back to work!

another early morning...

This morning, when I got up, this lightlessness felt just right. But now, already, the sky is beginning to turn from a dusky non-color to white. There are clouds again, but there was snow during the night. When it was darker out, I felt momentarily connected--but now it is starting to feel like the day is moving on without me. I've left the shades drawn in order to hold myself in this warm cocoon just a little longer. Perhaps just until it feels like it's time to take a shower, get dressed, go outside and walk the dog.

In the meantime I am sitting here at my desk in self-created half-light drinking an oh-so-tasty cup of coffee. I got the coffee maker ready last night and this morning only had to press GO. This preparedness reminds me that I have something worth accomplishing today. Viscosa, my little black cat, weaves herself in figure 8's around my legs.

At the moment I am trying to decide how to move forward. I'm thinking about structure--the structure my writing should/wants to take. Chronological order seems like the logical choice, but the story I want to tell feels more complex than that...more like a patchwork quilt. I'm just not yet sure how to fit the pieces together--or for that matter, what kind of stitches to use to hold it in place.

It's time for a second cup of coffee.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Sisters

This month's theme is personal history.

So here it is. That's me on the left with the blonde hair and my sister on the right. Her name is Jackie and she's two years older than me.

It's one of my favorite (and the few) photos of my sister and I--just the two of us. I like it because it shows the relationship even we didn't know we had. For the most part, we grew up in conflict. Or so we thought-- mostly because our parents somehow made us think we didn't like each other, that we were irreconcilable opposites. My mom wanted silence. My dad protected that at all costs. Therefore, even the most minor of sisterly arguments were blown out of proportion.

It wasn't until my sister had kids of her own, six years ago, that we realized just how important we are to each other. We began to understand that although we were always told we were opposites, in reality there is no else in the world that holds as many similarities.

Looking back I realize that my sister and I would have done anything to protect the other--and just like the photograph reveals--we did. Growing up, we were not close in a typical way. But as adults we make up for the lost time. There is no one that could ever replace her. And because we share a life-long history--we are different, but we are the same.

It's time.

Dog is walked. Coffee is made. Blogs have been read. Now--it's time to write.

When preparing for a show in painting I am easily able to let my world turn inside out; I am able to dissolve myself, focus completely, until the rest falls away. It is an odd and wonderful phenomenon. But it's been a long time since I've taken on a creative writing project... let's hope that it works the same.

There are a few writers I've always been inspired by--One is Isabel Allende and the other Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Allende has a separate guest house she writes in. She begins each new book on the full moon. And lights candles for the spirits before sitting down to write everyday day. Sometimes she loses herself so completely in the writing that she is not sure if it is her story or if she's become merely a medium. Marquez becomes a recluse when writing a book, shuts himself off from the world completely--only seeing his wife when she brings him his meals. He speaks to no one. He has a lot of friends, but they all understand this about him. When his book is finished and he finally emerges, they are happy to spend time with him once again.

Today I've shut the door and lit a candle. But the rest... is up to me. This, today, is where my writing begins.

Dearest friends,

One week left of winter break and I have not yet written one word for my thesis. I have drawn an elaborate cluster-brainstorming-thing with extensive doodling, but other than that--nilch. I spent the day on the verge of panic, feeling a little swallowed by the enormous amount of work that threatens my existence in the coming semester.

Starting tomorrow morning at 8am--I do not exist--not in person anyway.

I am unplugging the phone and refraining from any and all social activity. Please understand. It's not because I don't want to talk to you. Actually, I love you dearly and have enjoyed the many conversations we've had. But for now, it must be this way.

I've left the planet. Will blog.

Love,
Jessie

Skyscapes...

I feel a connection with people who paint these sorts of things. Sometimes it surpises me when someone else sees the world a little like I do.



"First Dusk of 2006" by Duane Keiser

i've always loved art nouveau...

You are a Rose:

You are creative, sensual, passionate, and bold.
You pour your heart into everything that you
do. Alluring and gifted with strong sex appeal,
you very easily draw people in with your animal
magnetism.

Symbolsim: The rose has always been a flower
heavily loaded with symbolism. In general it
symbolizes desire, passion, beauty, and
enchantment.


Which Flower are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

First Day of 2006

Relatively uneventful. Slept in late (between early morning phone calls). Babied a rather hung-over husband. Took a nice long shower. Mom came over for coffee and lunch. Took down the Christmas tree. Talked to half my family on the phone. Took a couple walks. Cleaned and rearranged the living room. Did a load of laundry in my brand new washing machine (ooh-how exciting!). Ate and excellent supper (something Italian that I've already forgotten how to pronounce). Relaxed in the "new" living room with candles. Watched a little TV. Cleaned out my van for the first time since we moved (inside and out--it needed it!). Stopped by my dad's for a visit.

And now it's time for desert and a mocha.

I thought I might start planning my class for spring or write today--yeah right. Welcome to 2006.
But let me not get glum... there's always espresso.

Last Day of 2005

Well, this year ranks up there with the single worst year in the life of Jessie. However-- it is the New Year and therefore, a time to celebrate. Rather than obsess over what went wrong or what I wish was different about myself or my life--it's a good time to think about what did go right and to recognize the things I actually did accomplish.

So in the spirit of a tradition I started 9 years ago...

My List of Accomplishments in 2005:

1. Survived teaching the research paper last spring and gained confidence in knowing that I can do it again.
2. Had an incredibly talented class of writers this fall--and was inspired by them all.
3. Realized that no matter how bad everything else was--I love teaching, every minute of it.
4. Sold my house.
5. Paid off 7 years worth of debt.
6. Moved...found a place where all of us--Vinny, myself, Anu, and the cats are all happy. And it is exactly the type of place I imagined living in.
7. Got settled in the new place--almost completely.
8. Acquired some of the best neighbors I've ever had.
9. Got active again--perpetual walking. Living in town allows me this.
10. Finally wrote my thesis proposal.
11. Had a painting exhibition in the big city of Minneapolis.
12. Currently have a show hanging in the BCAC.
13. Attempted (with some success) abstract landscapes. Loosened up my painting style and became more expressive in the process.
14. Sold a painting for a nice sum of $$.
15. Wrote several essays and a few poems that I feel good about.
16. Traveled to Texas to spend time with my grandparents last spring.
17. Went to Mexico for the first time.
18. Traveled parts of Canada I had never seen before.
19. Spend time with my sister's family.
20. Made artist's books for the first time.
21. Celebrated 2 years of marriage with my husband.
22. Gained a few new friends.
23. Painted my new writing room lime green.
24. After a year of thinking about it, finally sat down to write my old painting instructor a long letter. I miss her dearly.
25. Filled a couple journals.
26. Started spending more time with friends.
    
27. Decided to take a year off from school next year--I'm folllowing my heart--something I haven't done in too long.

And in the next couple days maybe I'll think of more to add. But what I'm realizing in making this list is that even some of the hardest aspects of this past year have led to some of the best rewards. Things are funny that way.

Friends and family--Happy New Year to all of you! May you find happiness and creative inspiration in every day.

Here's to a new year and new beginnings!

Another lake walk and more dream houses...

Although I do not fish--I could live here. I grew up in a too large, too fancy house and have ever since been attracted to small, simple, lived-in spaces--yep, even ice-houses.

I heard on the radio a couple years ago of an artists' community that took up residency in the middle of the lake. When the artists converted their ice-houses into studios and started working and living out there the police tried to get rid of them--but the town wanted them to stay. The artists would get visitors from all over--there to see their art and to watch them make it. One guy did paintings on large sheets of ice. It looked like watercolor. He did ice-house landscapes and odd still lives of found items--fish, boots, lures, garbage. Eventually they'd melt (or break)--but he'd make more. There were potters, painters, sculptors...and yes, even people fishing.

Polar Expeditions...

Hangover or not, it turned out to be a pretty good day. I peeled myself off of the floor by late morning and suited up for the outdoors for a long walk with Anu. I was determined to work off any remaining alcohol in my system with physical activity regardless of the drumming in my head. I don't know if it worked or not, but the wind and white was enough to keep me happily occupied. We walked the long way to Diamond Point, then headed out onto the lake. And although I'm a Northern Minnesotan, I was surprised to realize that it had been a long time since I had been on any major (or minor) ice excursions. All the nothingness was refreshing--and did wonders to clear my ever-rattling head. I found an ice cave formed by buckled ice and drifted snow along the shore and decided that it would make a perfect fort for reading. Anu and I crawled in and took a rest inside where it was amazingly silent and warm. If only I had brought a book.

Eventually we resumed forward motion on our polar expedition. Conditions were perfect. The snow was hard and crusted over with enough glare ice to keep us entertained. Runnnn....slide....walk a little...runnnn....slide. I thought of my old dog Abe and about how much fun he would have had. His favorite thing in the whole world (besides tuna fish) was ice. Anu and I stopped for a moment to miss him and honor his spirit before moving on to another patch of ice. I thought about how much I would like to live in a fish house--and spent a good deal of our walk daydreaming how I'd make it work. I figured 4 months of rent free living, close enough to campus to walk and shower at the Rec. Center, a computer lab nearby--what more could I want? I imagined a bed to one side with lots of comforters, a propane tank outside hooked up to an indoor heater to keep the place toasty and warm, oil lamps, cups of hot chocolate, good books, and nothing but wide open sky above us. Oh, to be so connected to my surroundings! I thought about how good the stars look at night in the middle of a frozen lake. I imaged having lawn chairs positioned outside for soaking up sun during the day. Students would look out Hagg-Sauer windows wondering: Is someone living out there??? The whole idea started looking pretty comical--but desirable nonetheless!

We came home hot and tired. But happy. Very happy.
And tomorrow--I think we'll do it again. :)

Next Morning...

No contact. Just a very serious headache.

Ouch. Sorry, Writing.

Dear Writing,

In order to make contact with you I have hereby resorted to the Higher Power of Bloody Marys.
May peace be with you.

Love,
Jessie

Self Portrait Tuesday: Dog Face

December's theme for Self Portrait Tuesday is (still) reflective surfaces. The last couple Tuesdays I've posted reflections of myself in mirrors and glass...

But there's one thing that reflects who I am more than anything-- and that is the dogs I love most in my life-- because it is them that reflect my best side.

Happy Dogs...

Ahh...that romp in the woods is what all of us needed.

Anu running at breakneck speeds...so happy to run free!

Coca's (my dad's dog) happy to roll in the snow. Mmmmm--yeah.

My beautiful wolfie--actually standing still.

And Coca...fat is beautiful too! :)

Action shots: snow dogs playing in the snow!

Could life get any better???

Let's start over.

wow--so that last post is a little more depressing than I had anticipated. I should delete it, but as a general rule of thumb I don't allow myself such mass editing with this blog. If I did I'm pretty sure my entries would be nearly nonexistant.

Anyway, it's another grey day. For some reason it's quiet outside. I have a fresh cup of coffee in front of me from a place I do not know how to spell. This morning I'll write in my paper journal while curled up on the couch with the cats. Then take a quick shower and drive out to the woods with Anu. She needs a good run. And so do I. This afternoon (I promise myself) I'm going to sit down and begin work on my India stories. Vinny will be at work and the distractions few.

This is the day I begin.

I've always been a dreamer...

...so where's my big dream for what's next?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what we'll do and where we'll go this summer when our lease runs out. Since putting the house up for sale I've been saying over and over "because we have to move away...for school...for jobs....we have to move away...." Occasionally I'll be walking down the street with wolfie and we'll see someone I know, but haven't talked to in awhile. Every time they are surprised to see me in town with my dog. So I explain, "Well, we sold our house. I live in town now..." Then I get a slightly shocked/confused/disappointed look and I revert back to the explanation that "we're moving next year...school...jobs..." Every time I walk away feeling like shit. I walk away, Anu pulling me down the street, thinking, mumbling under my breath...I had to sell it because I'm a fucking loser and no one's filling my bank account with magic money you fucking idiot. Basically, I walk away feeling a whole lot more depressed than I did the moment before I ran into them and was barraged with questions.

So the thought has been on my mind: Where will we be next year?

After this last year, neither of us is ready to tackle an MFA or PhD. We decided to take a year off from school and collect ourselves. We need to reenergize. We need to: a lot of things.

What we want to do is have mental space to work on our writing. But we all know how easily "life" gets in the way--so we've talked about doing a few writing workshops together or separately to keep us on track and actively writing. We want to use the year to work on getting published. And we also need to work. After graduating I would also like to return to India--and if I have the time, I have a good chance of getting grants to get me there.

But with all of these things we want to spend our energy on...where does moving fit into the picture? Does it help? Or hinder? Will it help us get better jobs? Or will a move just cost money? I feel like I've backed myself into a corner by telling everyone we're moving next year. I like it here, but damnit!...(unsorted thoughts go here)...

I don't know--and this is too complicated to blog about. (confusing thoughts go here)

I think I need to learn how to dream again. I used to listen to my dreams--and follow them. I have lived a good life that way--but somewhere along the lines it seems that I lost that talent. I want it back.

He'll bake cookies and she'll build stuff.

For Christmas I got my husband kitchen gear...and he got me tools.

Are we made for each other, or what?!

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!

bloggerville updates

I've been keeping an eye on this painter's blog for about a year now. What most impresses me is that he never misses a day! Now that's dedication. I've added his link to my sidebar and in doing so started thinking that my own blog needs some updates. What--I'm not sure.

First day of Christmas vacation.

It's been a slow unwinding, but today marks the first "official" day of break: revised thesis proposal turned in, student grades turned in, evaluations turned in, no more meetings, no more anything until I'm ready for it.

Lastnight, after (honestly) the best meal I have ever had, my husband and I came home; I walked the dog, then laid in bed reading (for enjoyment!) until I fell asleep. It felt like the best sleep of my life. This morning I woke up feeling rested and with a smile on my face. I feel relaxed and satisfied. It's warm out, almost 30 degrees above zero. Later I'll take Anu and Coca, my dad's husky-chow-mutt, for a long romp in the woods. The relaxed pace of the day feels like good nutrition--and every pore of my body is thankful for it.

The things I want to do during break:

• Since moving I've really wanted to get my sewing machine out. Mostly I want to sew curtains for the living room and my writing room. Something simple and inexpensive. Something colorful. I'd also like to sew a duvet for the bedroom and a couple pillows.
• A couple months ago my husband picked out a 48"x 48" canvas for me to paint something on for his room. I've been wanting to work on that since the day he got it.
• Read, Read, Read! Oh, I can't wait to read! Right now I'm working on Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake. My reading list also includes: Anne Tyler's Celestial Navigations; A Sense of Place: Great Travel Writers Talk About their Craft, their Lives, and Inspiration, edited by Michael Shapiro; An Area of Darkness by V.S. Naipaul; Karma Cola by Gita Mehta... list continues on forever (how many books can I read in one break?) . I want to read books in preparation for my thesis (books about travel, India or by Indian authors), but mostly I want to read books that inspire my own writing!
• Unpack the few remaining boxes from the move. Maybe even accomplish a little bit of reorganization.
• Paint the bedroom dresser (it's a purple dresser in sage, white, and butterscotch room--ugh!)
  
• Hang out in my studio doing nothing demanding...just creating--doodles, book making, doing whatever and nothing in particular. :)
• Enjoy relaxed and extended morning cups of coffee while blogging or journal writing.

And while these are all things I want to do...there is one thing that I really must do: begin work on my thesis. Luckily this is also something I want to do. Somewhere along the line--after moving, after getting settled, after the opening of my art show--writing mind returned. I once again find myself thinking in terms of words, not just colors. There wasn't room for writing before. But now a space has opened. I am--finally--ready to start this project.

I'm looking forward to the the coming winter weeks of break. I think I need it. Don't we all.

Little Viscosa

My little cat, Vico, crawled up into my lap and is now stretched out in my arms causing me to type one handed because she looks up at me with such love and trust--purring, purring, purring. I still have to rewrite my thesis proposal and comment on 2 student essays...but she makes me so very, very sleepy. I can feel her heart beating next to mine.

A good day to make journals...

(sorry-- poor image quality)

Tonight's project included making journals for my brother and his girlfriend. I painted big sheets of nice, thick paper; collaged on some. After tearing the large sheets to size and to give them rough edges I ended up with enough material to make 2 smaller journals as well (a 100 pages each!). They are a lot of work--but will go to good homes. Not to mention, it feels good to get "crafty." Tomorrow I'll bind them and make hardcovers for them. My fingers still have smudges of glue and turquoise blue--hence, it's been a good day.

If you could only see me...

Well, actually, it's a good thing that you can't cuz I look a little like this except I have more energy and the room I sit in is filled with sun (ahh!). My hair, now a good 5 inches long at the top, has somehow morphed into a mohawk during the course of the night with a nice rat's nest at the back. I'm wearing a knee-length flannel nightgown with cardinals and birdhouses at the bottom (a gift from my mom several years ago) and, underneath, a pair of thick fleece pants that I sewed myself (and not very well). I wear poofy, black Hello Kitty slippers and a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders. My eyeliner is slightly smudged, but I have brushed my teeth. My nose is a little runny from playing outside with Anu in -10 degree weather. I think I'm gonna sneeze.
If you could see me now...you could say that you truly know me. Anyone want to come over for coffee? haha.

hmmm--I love Sundays.

You know you live in Northern Minnesota when:

snowmobiles driving past your house in the middle of town are a daily occurrence.

in this new home

Today, after an hour of hacking at ice and shoveling the sidewalk, I looked up to an orange/blue/yellow/grey/pink sky and realized that I am happy here.
I guess today is the first day that I've had the peace of mind to realize that.

Yes, I like this place.

I'm done, I did it.

No longer enough energy for enthusiasm, but I accomplished the goal of finishing my thesis proposal. I sent it off as an attachment in an e-mail at midnight exactly. Now I'll just wait and see if I need to make any revisions. I can handle that.

It's weird that so much time and energy can go into a measly 5 pages. But those 5 pages are going to be my life for the next 5 months.

The only thing left to do now is to grade essays--and then Christmas break is mine!

still working on the thesis proposal...

I have a cup of fresh coffee sitting directly in front of me. I've just returned from a walk in the snow with wolfie. I have not one, but two paragraphs of my thesis proposal written.

I want to write something here--but I have dedicated myself to finishing a draft of my proposal today. It doesn't need to be this difficult. I wrote 2 paragraphs in 2 days. Let's hope the rest comes easier.

On the bright side, I feel good about what I'm writing. No matter how hard it might be or become. It's time to write this story.

(...need more coffee)

Self Portrait Tuesday: (oops--it's Wednesday--no, it's Thursday!)

Tuesday's come and gone, a few minutes ago it was Wednesday, and now it's Thursday. Who needs sleep when there's so much living to do?

When I was little people would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be lots of things, but mostly I wanted to be either a piano teacher or a Solid Gold Dancer. ha! I will never become either.

But sometimes, secretly, I sill wish I was a ballerina.

Thoughts on Comfort and Inspiration...

Midnight, and finally I am starting to relax. I feel the tension in my back, in my neck, in my jaw loosening--bit by bit. I still have a thesis proposal to write and one more round of essays to grade, but at this point it is beginning to feel manageable. Ah--*deep breath*--a momentary break in the storm.

Speaking of storms--it is beautiful outside. I just returned from a late night walk with wolfie. The wind is warm enough that the snow has turned into a slight drizzle. By morning it might create more hazardous conditions, but for now, it feels heavenly. It's amazing how anything above 10 degrees starts to feel warm this time of year. We walked slow. Anu stopped often to sniff the air. I stopped along with her because I was in no hurry.

Last week I read a post that's had me thinking all week. And I've been waiting for a short break from the grind to post some of my own musings...

1. What brings you comfort?

scratchy cat kisses, the smell of fresh ground coffee, the taste of fresh brewed coffee, snuggling with Anu, the sound of wind in pine trees, long walks, occasional grey days, puddles of sunshine, the smell of oil paints, carnations, and books; potato chips, quiet mornings with a journal, the sound of 25 students with pen to paper, flannel sheets, new socks, warm water, rain, snow, green olive soup, burning candles and incense, the time to lay around with a good book, slow dancing with V., the smell of sage, deep vibrant colors, sheepskin, the sound of the heat turning on, watching my cats sleep, connecting with friends, samosas, old journals, my red coffee cup, listening to Jackson Browne (don't ask me why), making art, skyscapes, mist, frost, getting my hands dirty, my old red and black flannel, ravens...

2. What is one quote that has left a profound impact on your life?

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." ~Henry David Thoreau

3. What are 3 things on your life-list?

-to (continue) teaching writing
-to win the Pulitzer (ha!) ok--how about to write (and publish) at least one book
-to return to India

4. What inspires you?

all of the above, people that follow their heart (even when it's difficult or risky), travel, color, good teachers, good music, fresh air, the energy of fellow writers and artists, honesty, determination, my students, coffee!

Ahh--that little break felt good.

Goodnight, and sweet dreams.

The Green Machine

Powering me through the home stretch:

Spirulina, Chlorella, Green Tea, Broccoli, Spinach, Blue Green Algae, Garlic, Echinacea, Barley Grass, Wheat Grass, Apples, Kiwi, Banana, Pineapple, and Mango.

Want some?

Random thought instead of writing...

Had the house sold just a little earlier, I would have been on a plane to India this week.

Had I been on a plane to India, I would have finished my work already. As it is, I am neither on a plane or finished with my work.

Damn.

Feeling At Home

Yesterday was good. And I've decided that it feels pretty good being 31. When I woke up the first thought to go through my conscious mind was that I've reached a plateau in life, a level place--those non-years between the age of 31 and oh, 39. It's those years that you never hear much about. The years that people just work hard, do what needs to be done, struggle, question their lives, work more, start aging, blah, blah, blah.

I imagined this plateau to look like somewhere that I've driven through, somewhere dry and in- the-distance; somewhere that I wished I could climb to the top of and see forever, dissolve into the vastness. But it's also somewhere dusty and beige. It's a nondescript place that looks good in the distance, but is boring once you get there.

However, being fond of open places, I've decided that having reached a level place isn't all bad. A couple years ago I took a cross country bike trip from my driveway in Becida to the Rockies. It required pedaling through hundreds of miles of plains--those open places that stretch out forever and we think of being flat, flat, flat. But what I remember most from the trip is the rolling hills, unexpected contours, the beauty of the landscape. And if the 30's are like North Dakota, then I think I'll take the road less traveled. The one that runs, not straight, but diagonally across the state.

Yesterday V. spoiled me, he spoiled me, he spoiled me. We spent the day bumming around town, ate lunch at the Wild Hare, bummed around some more, decorated the Christmas tree, went out for dinner and then a movie. After midnight we stood outside under a dark sky of fat snowflakes. They drifted down slow. The tree glowed through the window. There was quiet. And for the first time in a long while--I felt comfortable in my own skin. Nothing's changed overnight but, surprisingly, I am enjoying my view from the plateau.

A sense of community

Something I've been thinking about for a few days now is how and why and to what extent we use blogs as a way to communicate. I've also been thinking about community--in the classroom, in my neighborhood, in cyber-world... Oh, if only I had more time to write. We live in a world where we (wisely) keep ourselves guarded--but in the end, how cut off do we become? It is a world filled with strangers, but through blogs I am (recently) enjoying the evolution of community. And I'll admit--I like the change.

All work for the day: CANCELLED

Today ranks right up there with the first day of snow. But for now it's time to get out of my pajamas. Afternoon just started for chrissakes. I love it. Loud music, hot shower, strong coffee. Then maybe go out for a late lunch? Yes.

Yesterday's Fortune

"Stop searching
happiness is inside of you."

Today, on the other hand, I haven't been looking for anything except to get things done. Luckily there is enough to do that it is an easily self-satisfying goal. Am I talking in English? Last night I dreamt that a strange woman slipped two hits of acid in my coffee. I've been feeling the effects all day--but I think it's actually a cold that I've been fighting all week. Although it is important to mention that I do not get sick. No, never. There's an intricate mind game I play with myself to keep illness at bay and it usually works. This time, however, I feel like I am fighting an uphill battle. Or maybe there's a small part of me that wants it this time--that heaviness, the calm, the excuse to lay down and not feel guilty about it. Oh yeah, but that's the other reason I never let myself get sick. I have an incredible guilt complex that does not allow me to "do nothing." I think I acquired it from my parents a long, long time ago. Chronic workaholics. Nature or nurture? I don't know. All I do know is that my dad never let me sleep in and my mom never sat still. So here I am, at 31 (tomorrow--hint, hint), a horrible, guilt-ridden product of my parents and their parents and their parents...

Good god. Am I floating?

Self Portrait Tuesday: (please sing along) ho-ho-ho-home depot is a rip off...

Geez, is it Tuesday again already? Ok, so December's "challenge" is a self-portrait in a reflective surface. So here it is--the Christmas tree! The one we spent way too much money for at Home Depot because we have legitimately become "city folk" and no longer have the swamp to tromp around in to find free "Charlie Brown" trees. Oh, but she's a beauty. And one of these days we might even get her decorated!

Tonight big, fat snowflakes fall slowly, slowly from the sky. Woodsmoke drifts into the yard like incense from someone else's chimney. And the tree...well, she waits very impatiently--and so do I!

I think I might have even missed my office.

It feels like a long time since I've been here. But that's not true. It's just that it's been a long time since I've been in here, not for office hours, but with the intention of getting something done. The door is shut, I have a latte at my side, a nice hot bowl of chili for when I get hungry, a stack of books, papers to grade. This place feels like the most organized and least distracting space available--so here I am.

Until now I've been avoiding my office except for when I needed to be here. I think I over used and abused the space last year with all those 12 even 14 hour days. Looking back I can honestly say: Last year sucked. Maybe all that horrible stressed out energy has finally dissipated from these windowless walls. It actually, I'll admit, feels good to be back.

I spent almost the entire morning outside taking care of my sick pooch and searching for a Christmas tree. And at the moment I am content to sit in this warm, dark office listening to a Christmas CD made by my husband (an early present).

Life feels fine. Things are about to get done.

art folk photos

my mom and i in the "Fragmented Forest." (er--can you say metaphor?)

fellow art makers

and ashleigh and i at our opening!

Today I'm going to get a lot done.

This is a promise to myself.

This morning I got up (not as early as I would have liked) and took wolfie for a long walk. We went as far as the art's center then back along the lake trail. The snow was deep, but it felt good to trudge through it. I've learned to, like Anu, keep an eye out for squirrels. It makes her happy when I play along. By the time we got home my scarf and eyelashes were thickly frosted over. Anu's chin had icicles hanging from it. After feeding her and playing some more I came inside and made coffee. Oh--the aroma of coffee on a cold winter morning. Perfect. Outside every window, my world is covered in snow.

I find myself wanting to decorate for Christmas more than doing much of anything else. We got lights last night and today we'll get a tree. Whether or not we decorate it today, I'm not sure. There is too much to do. And once we have the tree set up, then damnit, I want to lay on the couch reading books, sipping hot chocolate, and enjoying it. Either way--we're almost to the end. Even though it feels absolutely, 100% impossible to accomplish it all. Miracles DO happen.

Since finishing the show, hanging it, and living (happily) through the opening...I feel a deep sense of calm. It is strange. Even though there's still a lot of stress in finishing out the semester, I have that "going-with-the-flow" feeling. I still miss Abe, and my grandpa, and my home in Becida...but now it's time to move on. Now if I cry it doesn't have to be about something I lost, but about something I was lucky enough to experience.

The rest, well-- the rest will fall into place.

The opening was a raging success and THANK YOU everyone that came!!!

that's all.
:)