icecreamplease

icecreamplease @ 2009-05-18T18:39:00

2009-05-18T22:40:03Z

Livejournal won't let me see my friends page. Why have this joker?!

Sorry, Shaunna ;)

2009-04-30T17:26:47Z

The effects of trauma on the human psyche are insidious and varied. Whether they are inflicted upon entire nations (such as India and Pakistan upon the inception of Partition), or among smaller groups, the repercussions experienced are formative. In the case of the Das family in Anita Desai's Clear Light of Day, each of the characters responds to a collectively experienced upheaval in a distinctly personal manner. Whether through various forms of escapism or through harbored resentment, dealing with pain can result in any number of less than healthy responses. Equally diverse are the avenues for personal healing and redemption pursued by each character in the novel. In Clear Light of Day, Desai examines a family's reaction to hardship and division and the subsequent attempts at reconciliation and restoration.

In the first pages of the novel, we are introduced to the sisters, Tara and Bimla. Both seem to be laboring under the pressures of their past, impressed upon and influenced by haunting memories. Tara recalls time spent with her mother in the large house that symbolizes so much rupture and frustration, immediately linking the notions of family and past with pain and dissatisfaction. She at first perceives the familial rose garden to be exactly as it had been in her childhood but then she asks herself, "Or [is] it? (1)" There were more roses when she was young, the whole family had been present in the home. Hints of stagnation and entropy swirl around the house as it now holds the fractured pieces of a family that was once a unified whole.

Of the same rose garden, Bimla exclaims that the roses grow, "smaller and sicker every year. (2)" Although Tara can observe her former home from somewhat of a distance, her older sister Bim is still very much engaged in the maintenance of the home, engrossed in a macabre perpetual remembrance of the family unit. As a result of this dwelling upon the past and because of the psychological pain inflicted upon the family's fragmentation, Bim becomes embittered and cruel to the same people she seems to love. This abuse of those closest to her is a sure sign of the damaging events experienced in Bim (and Tara's) past.

What, then, is the trauma of this family and who else living under the effects of it? Each member of the Das family, Bim and Tara and their brothers, Raja and Baba, is affected by the same pressures and hurt. The family suffers a systematic breaking down of relationship following the deaths of the siblings' parents and aunt. In fact, the theme of separation and its consequences is perhaps the most important in the entire novel. Desai is giving us insight into the pain of Partition in her country of India allegorically through the Das family. The contrast between staying (exemplified in Bim and Baba) and that of fleeing (as seen in Tara and, more explicitly, Raja) characterizes the entire story.

Desai describes the private anguish Bim feels at the dissolution of her family unit and Tara's response in a flashback to the girl's childhood. The girls are going together to examine a series of tombs when a swarm of bees appears. This encounter with the vestiges of death immediately followed by peril reminds us of the death of their parents and the danger that ensues. Bim yells at her sister to run as she alone suffers the private sting of her assailants. The metaphor here shows us the suffering Bim incurs as she stays in one place, the family home, as her sister Tara and brother Raja seem to abandon her. We also get a glimpse at the resentment she feels upon being deserted as she snarls at her sister with, "if you'd stayed, you'd have been stung like me - you had to run. (136)" Although Tara's childhood and adult efforts to distance herself from pain are understandable, it is obvious that Bim resents her for them.

No character bears the brunt of Bim's hostility more so than her brother Raja however. When the fabric of the family begins to break down, instead of being the pillar that Bim can lean on, Raja sets out on a path of self-discovery and fulfillment. Not only does Bim resent his leaving, but she secretly envies Raja; he does what she cannot because of the constraints of gender and her responsibility to maintain the house. In pursuing art and culture separate from his own (Urdu poetry, Muslim culture and relationship), Raja rejects the old (the old house, and more, Old India) that Bim represents. His method of dealing with the trauma of death and separation is perhaps the most constructive, but it is also detrimental in that he ignores the past and his absence greatly injures his sister.

Their brother Baba is absent in a different way. In contrast to Tara and Raja's respective escapes, Baba is forced (due to his own lack of self-sufficiency) to stay in the husk of a house that Bim maintains. In perhaps the most poignant way, Baba represents the inescapable elements of the past for Bim. She is forced to care for him and she is forced to care for the family's house. Baba is an embodied representation of the effects of the trauma the Das family experiences. His inability to function autonomously in the world, his reticence and dependency, are indicative of the breadth of the need this family experiences. His mental handicap renders him unable to care for himself or support Bim in the way that she desperately and furiously requires, but he is also symbolic of the ways in which this family needs each other to survive and heal together.

It is especially meaningful then that the reconciliation Bim needs, the change of heart that begins to relieve the pain of past trauma in her, comes when she attacks her brother Baba. Verbally threatening Baba, the symbol of the family's need for interdependence, Bim realizes the self-destructive nature implicit in her resentment of her family. They all need each other in order to heal from the trauma of separation. She enters the encounter with Baba, seeking some sort of affirmation for herself, "some kind of response from him, some kind of justification from him for herself, her own life, her ways and attitudes, (163)" but her own revealed bitterness is what she receives from him. It is in this moment that Bim turns the figurative corner internally. Desai tells us that her "rage is spent at last, (164)" and her unfettered love for her family is awakened at last.

Bimla realizes that her siblings are not aliens, unconnected to be attacked and resented, but that they are intimately connected parts of her. She understands finally that any disappointments and hurts that any member of the family experiences, she feels also because they are still a part of the same unit. In reality, Bim's acceptance and affirmation of her siblings is the catalyst that brings healing unto the entire group. Though they experience the shared trauma of their parents' death and the dissolution of the intimacy they once knew, it is Bim's refusal to let go and allow forgiveness that has been impeding healing for them all. She understands after her epiphany with Baba that she did not "feel enough" at her parents death, that she had felt "humiliated" at Raja's going away instead of understanding, that she had loved too "inarticulately" her mute brother. Taking ownership of her own imperfections and seeing her experiences through the light of love instead of judgement changes how Bim views he siblings.

At the novel's end we see Bim gathered with Tara and Baba and the hope of reuniting with Raja on the horizon. The personification of the old, the past, the static in the person of Bim is met with the idea of the present/future, progress, and change in a way that heals the rifts of the trauma experienced by this family. Desai hints in a rather overt way that the pains of Partition can be eased and relationships can be restored if one will only stop attacking the fault of the other and, in a way of gentle affirmation, begin to acknowledge the past and incorporate the future in a way involving all parties. As the Das family sorts through their pain at the loss of separation, so too can any others suffering similarly. This is the bright hope presented in Clear Light of Day.

icecreamplease @ 2009-04-01T15:23:00

2009-04-01T19:51:20Z

tesis: Se puede hacer una investigación de la identidad chilena (hispanoaméricana?) en términos raciales, sexuales, y políticos con los escritos de Pablo Neruda.

Outline:

I. Intro
*idea de Neruda como profeta o hablante para la nación de Chile y para Latinoamérica.
* partes de la identidad chilena que se puede ver en los poemas de Neruda.

II. Identidad racial de Chile

A. investigación de la populación indígena en Chile

1. Poema - Alturas de Macchu Picchu
a. afirmación de lo indígena?

2. Los libertadores
a. "Aquí viene el árbol, el árbol
nutrido por muertos desnudos,
muertos azotados y heridos,
muertos de rostros imposibles,
empalados sobre una lanza,
desmenuzados en la hoguera,
decapitados por el hacha,
descuartizados a caballo,
crucificados en la iglesia."
b. Exploración de los conquistadores vs. las indígenas

III. Hombre y mujer

A. Ideas sobre la mujer

1. Me gusta cuando calles

a. Machismo?
b. el romance

2. ¿Celebración de la femenenidad o relegación a posición sexual?
a. Cuerpo de mujer

B. La masculinidad

1. El tigre ?
2. Agua sexual

IV. Ideas políticas

A. Pensamiento sobre Norteamérica

1. La herencia

B. Afirmación de lo comunista

1. Nuevo canto a Stalingrad

C. Neruda como político

V. Conclusión

part of an essay in Spanish

2009-02-23T18:17:13Z

En una investigación de lo que es el mestizaje en el contexto latinoamericano, uno tiene que examinar las culturas que florecen y la influencia peninsular. El intento de crear naciones con ciertos elementos españoles aunque separados y distintos resulta en un mezcla de culturas, lenguajes, tradiciones, etc. En su poesía, Andrés Bello presenta una región creciendo todavía bajo de la sombra de España. Con el poema, Alocución a la Poesía, él investiga la abilidad de arte construir la identidad de una nación, el rol de artista de expresar e influir la opinión popular, y la apreciación poética de la naturaleza para afirmar una tierra como país.

Uno de los poderes superimportantes que una nación tiene para construirse es el arte. Bello, como venezolano y poeta, sirve como representante del pueblo americano y describe los elementos que contribuyen a la sociedad americana. En su primera estrofa, delinea las influencias importantes en el fondo de su tierra; habla de Europa, Colón, y Céfiro. Con estes nombres Bello nos dice muchísimo. Primero anuncia los raíces de América Latina, concede que la presencia de España tiene una gran importancia en la construcción de lo que son "Las américas". Entonces Bello menciona "el mundo de Colón (p. 199)", y con estas palabras trae la importancia de la gente indígena y también la realidad de la opresión de España perpetrado contra Latinoamérica. Quizás más interesante es su referencia a la mitología griega. Con la inclusión de Céfiro en esta estrofa de su poema, Bello nos indica que influencias más antigüas que lo europo existan para su tierra. Insista que la nobilidad de la época romántica y los elementos neoclásicos están para desarrolar la identidad de la nación latinoamericana también.

Parte de la responsibilidad del artista es servir como espejo para su comunidad y también funcionar como profeta. Es decir, el artista exista en el rol de declarar donde la gente está y donde VAN. A la vez Bello está criticando al viejo método de percibir el mundo, el modelo europeo, y explicando en cual dirreción el Nuevo Mundo va. Aunque no menciona a España específicamente, él habla de cruzar el "vasto Atlántico" para llegar a "otro cielo", "otro mundo" y "otras gentes" (p. 200). El habla en favor de "las riquezas de... América" sobre la política y opresión de la España del pasado. Él está pintando una imágen de la gran espacia, física y cultural, entre Europa y América. En su poema, vemos lugares y referencias latinoeméricanas muchas veces... Buenos Aires, Chile, el águila de México, Quito, el río Magdalena, Bogotá. Es obvio que él intenta crear una identidad definitivamente distinta de la española.

stupid paper, don't read

2009-02-17T17:05:57Z

In the story "Fools" from his collection of short stories, Fools and Other Stories, Njabulo Ndebele explores a number of themes in the South African context including race, class, and education. One of these important topics is that of gender roles and identity. In all of Ndebele's stories we see male protagonists and supporting female characters interacting with each other and their society in prescribed ways. This gives us a sense of male and female roles in South African literature, and more broadly, gives us some insight into how interpersonal politics are played out in South African society at large. These gender roles also serve as an allegory for the oppression prevalent in South Africa before the mid-1990s. In "Fools", Ndebele investigates the construction of these gender identities and how they are subsequently performed, challenged, and violated as a representation of the race/class oppression of apartheid in South Africa.

One of the first characters we are introduced to, Zamani, is tremendously complex and interesting, in large part due to the way he has constructed his gender and sexual identity. If masculinity is traditionally associated with action, with power, with influence, then in Zamani we see a man cut off from these qualities due to his community's changed conception of him as a man. The prevailing quality that has come to characterize Zamani as we find him in the beginning and through much of the story is that of impotence. Because of a violent crime Zamani commits against a girl in the town, namely the rape of Mimi, Zamani is effectively emasculated. The girl's family, Zamani's wife, and his community at large no longer respect him or grant him the personal agency he needs to feel actualized as a man. Similarly, the white South Africans have taken away the personal agency of black South Africans, relegating them to subservient roles in society.

Even as early as the first pages of the story, we find Zamani taking on the inactive role of perceiving and appraising Zani, who comes to symbolize the youthful, brash masculinity that Zamani once possessed. We get a glimpse into Zamani's thoughts, knowing that he wants to challenge this boy's lack of respect, but he eventually realizes that "[Zumani] can only look at him" (169). Zamani cannot compete with Zani despite being much older, because he bears the shame and stigma internally and societally inflicted upon him due to the rape. As such, despite his intelligence, Zamani is initially verbally bested by Zani. Despite being a husband, Zamani is categorically rejected by his wife. Despite having the credentials to perform his job, he does not "earn" it back after he is fired; the school gives him back his job as teacher in a quiet, indirect way. Zamani's ability to act and perform strongly in society has been removed because a respect for him as a man has been removed.

Consequently, as Zani enters the scene, we see a bright, somewhat brash young man who serves as another representation of masculinity within this narrative and also as a foil to Zamani's character. In Zani, we have a picture of masculinity intrinsically tied to education, social reform, and deliberate action; he in many ways represents the place that Zamani came from before going awry. However, in Zani we see what happens when a man attempts to buck the system more from a place of pride than from genuine concern for the oppressed people. We see Zani get embarrassingly drunk, beat up and stabbed, and eventually driven off by the Boer throughout the story. I think this is largely due to the fact that he is trying to perform the role of a grown man though lacking experience and being incompetent in executing theory in practice. His attempts at usurping authority and respect with Zamani show us that adolescent wrestling that characterizes all of Ndebele's short stories in this collection and give us insight into how young boys attempt to construct manhood.

Of equal importance, though in a somewhat more limited representation, are the roles of women in "Fools". We see in the women in the story (most importantly Mimi and Nosipho) many details about South African life and the way gender roles are performed. Nosipho serves as an interesting foil to her husband Zamani. She puts up with his adultery and impotence; she doesn't divorce him. But, while maintaining their home and being financially supportive, she withholds the emotional support and the intimacy that Zamani craves. In his half-hearted attempts to engage her, we find that she "just walk[s] away" (174). He thus seeks attention and affirmation, both sexual and romantic, in a series of extramarital affairs. This speaks to an abuse of the South African woman by man and by her society at large. This expectation that women are to stomach abuse and continue to serve dutifully can only result in embitterment and disillusionment.

In a more overt way, the abuse that Zamani inflicts upon in Mimi is, in some ways, patently ignored but its effects ripple throughout the characters and their entire town. Zamani's raping of Mimi serves as a disturbing glance into his psyche. He cannot, in the society he lives in, achieve the goals and position he desires, so he subverts the will of a young woman to try to instate a sense of power. He yells in his mind the refrain, "I'm a respectable man!" (195), but this skewed sense of societal position does not help. He dominates Mimi because that is one of the few ways South African society will allow him to express himself as powerful. Though important as individuals, these characters serve as representations of what oppression looked like in South Africa at that time and presents us with the limited options men and women had to cope with this oppression. Nosipho chooses to stand coldly against the shameful acts of her husband, never granting forgiveness. Mimi is ravaged and hurt by a man she trusts and is forced to bear the weight of this act along with bearing the resulting child with no help from Zamani, the father. We see the oppression of apartheid and the insufficient ways that men and women are forced to cope with its dreadful side effects.

How, then, can a man come to feel empowered and useful in this society? How can a woman escape subjugation and feel valued and respected? What can afford absolution? The model that Ndebele presents is an interesting one. At the end of the story, the large, white Boer man appears and basically presents an entirely new and different level to the hierarchical power struggles we have seen thus far. He blends race and class in with the discussion of gender and oppression. He is a clear symbol of the oppressor, the white society in South Africa. Interestingly, Ndebele uses the most impotent character, the one most twisted by and disillusioned with his surroundings to combat this threat. Zamani represents the South African man who feels he cannot rise above the conditions surrounding him. He is the one who further inflicts harm and hurt upon those surrounding him, especially the women. So it is he who will be most redeemed upon striking a blow to the oppressor.

In a powerful way Ndebele shows us that an acceptance of pain and a steadfast facing of the oppressor without succumbing to his attacks is the way to counteract injustice. Zamani's sense of agency is restored as the Boer heaps insults and blows upon him. Even as Zumani is attacked by the white man, he withholds, "the kind of victory he wanted" (275). By facing his aggressor, Zamani does what Zani with his fanaticism, the school's principal with his capitulation to the education system, and many others could not do; he opposes robber of his dignity and finds his manhood reinstated. We get the sense that he can then have right relations restored with his wife and perhaps his surrounding community. He, the South African man, is like Lazarus resurrected.

In "Fools", Ndebele presents us with a subtle indemnification of apartheid oppression in South Africa through the examination of gender identities. His story and characters speak to us of the necessity for personal agency and refusal of societal injustice. We see that through the bearing of pain and the non-violent rejection of oppression, correct ways of men and women relating, and macrocosmically, black and white South Africans relating rightly can be engendered in a wounded society. His characters and story give us hope for the reconciliation of any community where wrong is being committed, where men and women are oppressed but yearn for a restoration of justice. "Fools" is just such a narrative.

pray pray

2009-01-28T21:13:05Z

I pray that God would redeem the way I love people. I pray not to be selfish and manipulative and feel like people owe me things once I give them things. I pray not to punish people for times when I don't like what someone says or does. I pray to love people like Jesus does, seeing past the wounds and bruises and infection from which they operate to see the little hurt person on the inside. I pray people would look beyond my faults too.

In Jesus' name.

Praise God

2009-01-21T22:30:18Z

Well, things have turned around. My only qualm as of late has been a financial one. My phone broke for an evening, my car got a little jankity, I gotta renew my license, eat, and pay bills and all of that shiznaz costs money. Going down to only working one shift a week at work, I thought my life was over and that I'd have to start hookin' (again) to make enough money to do anything at all. Ok, but for real. I'm bein' funny but I was starting to get a little stressed out. But bless the Lord, O my soul.

My phone miraculously began to work again (I prayed over that joint like I was from the Church of God in Christ!). Duct tape is rocking my car's world. I ain't been pulled over yet. AND! I applied at Tin Lizzy's today and it seems exceptionally promising! I'm going in on Friday to shadow Katie for a couple of hours. She said the other day she worked a double and made 500 bones. That's just about alright with me. I mean, I think I'm practically hired, right? You don't ask people to rock that Friday night training joint unless they're hired, huh?

I praise my God for bein' a sho' 'nuff provider! Thank ya, Jesus! Hallelujah!

p.s. Thanks, Shaunna, for always commenting on my lj jam. Shout out to you, lil' mama!

broke down.

2009-01-20T00:20:06Z

It's weird how frustrated we can get about things that aren't that make-or-break. My mama always says I am "hard on cars". True story. I am rough on phones too. I dropped my joint today now and in retaliation, my phone drops all calls after approximately 17 seconds. And I knocked the mirror off my car a couple weeks ago. These things really aren't the end of the world. I'm lucky to have a car. Folks have existed without cell phones before. I'm not dying.

But I'm frustrated.

What a beautiful day!

2009-01-07T18:20:58Z

Dang, it's gorgeous outside. I went running and just thanked God the whole time for how nice it was. I'm brushin' my teefs then going to Dakota for breakfast/lunch before school. Game night at my house tonight. Plus the Beegees just came on my iTunes. Man! Today is the DAY!

A thing happened...

2008-12-29T04:34:49Z

Sometimes I wonder if you deserve another chance
Sometimes you disappoint too many times
Sometimes you betray as though your mama taught you

I flirt with unforgiveness
and I wonder if you'd curl up like a leaf over a lighter
if the truth knocked you off your feet

And I am too harsh and expect too much
and there's no room for humanity to breathe
and you've hurt my feelings one too many times

But you know I'm not God and I keep learning I'm not either.

icecreamplease @ 2008-12-15T02:34:00

2008-12-15T07:38:43Z

I think I'm the only person who can drive around at 2 am, clapping loud as crap and lip synching like a nut job to the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack...

I also realized that perhaps I'm a moron because I was thinking earlier how fun it would be to be like Jessica Fletcher off'a Murder She Wrote and always be figuring out who killed who just because you're so awesomely perceptive and tight. Then I realized I didn't always want to be surrounded by murders. But I do think I could probably pick up on who did it... Just sayin'.

I'm trying to read The Shack 'cuz everyone's head over heels for it, but it's just not rockin' my world at all. The writing is kind of garbage... I'm hoping the message or moral of the dang story or whatever will redeem it.

I need to poop but don't wanna get out of bed.

It is late but I don't have to go to no schoolz tomorrow!

All your sleeps are belong to me!

Ok, 'night, 'night.

The sun, the Son, and who are you?

2008-11-11T22:43:07Z

Man, I guess I was feeling really poetic yesterday because I walked out of class and out into the courtyard at school and I thought, "Maybe the sun is a liar because he shines so bright but the air is still so chilly." And then I worked on it in my head a little and then I thought, "Or maybe we are all lying to the sun telling him who he has to be", that he can't provide light and warmth and we still be a little uncomfortable. That sounds like I'm trying to be deep and just sounding kind of foolish, but it has to do with a lot of the stuff I've been thinking about lately.

In class yesterday we were talking about the Dominican Republic and about the racial confusion/rejection that goes on there. The professor presented this hypothetical situation in which a very dark-skinned person living in the Dominican Republic is entirely unaware and un-affirming of her African ancestry. The question posed to us then was, what would you tell her? Do you reveal to her her roots? Do you educate her? Do you leave her be, maintaining tolerance and acceptance (with or without hidden judgement at her "ignorance")? A few of the kids in class started talking about how unacceptable it was to be ignorant of your cultural heritage, how an unwillingness to identify with what is apparently "obvious" was such a problem.

Finally, I raised my hand because I had heard enough, I suppose. I told the class how at least once a week people speculate about my ethnicity. About how often people tell me, "Oh, you're Italian... you just don't know it." Or, "You've gotta be Spanish." My question to them, the rest of the students and to the people who have all these answers as to why my skin is swarthy, is, what is gained by my having a country to tell people that my great-great-greats are from? Does it make people feel better because they have categorized me, because they have labeled and identified me for me? Because it certainly doesn't make me any better of a person. It doesn't help me to love people better. It doesn't help me to listen to people or value them or be more giving. It is just another box to put me in, another name for me to be called.

Over and over again lately I've been confronted with the concept of "identity". I just finished rereading Donald Miller's Searching For God Knows What and in it Don talks a lot about the fact that human beings seem wired to receive their identities, their worth, their affirmation from outside of themselves. This seems pretty true to me. I think it's why so many of us try so hard to be the funny one or the cool one or hang with the right crowd or at least hang with some crowd... It's why we have sex with someone or someones when we shouldn't. It's why we drink too much sometimes. It's all because we want to feel valuable, appreciable, worthy. Or we want to hide it and drown it when we don't feel that from the right person or maybe anyone.

I think one of the tough things about becoming a Christian (and also the very beautiful thing) is slowly letting go of the crutches, the relationships, the means of self-identification, and everything else that I've used to try to market myself or make myself feel worthy of love. I'm asking God for His grace these days to stop looking at people through the economy of the world and to see them like He sees them. God loves each of us for our "be-ing", simply because we are. Our names are inscribed on His hands and He alone identifies us and tell us our worth. It seems like the hardest thing in the world sometimes, but I am beginning to understand that if God wanted me to, I would need to (and I think I would) lay down my very personality, everything about who I think I am, in order to let Him mold me into the person He has envisioned.

I guess I'm just saying I think it's very dangerous to tell someone else who he is. And I think a lot of us would do well to examine the ways we find our identity, the ways we look to make ourselves feel worthy, the ways we judge and determine the worth of others. As a Christian, my identity is in Christ. Only He and His word tell me who I am. And I've got to let go of every other thing that doesn't line up with that.

The Son is telling us all who we are and if we lie to Him and try to tell Him instead, we are very foolish indeed. God, keep me from being foolish.

Amen.

Of bonnets and beers.

2008-10-23T02:30:30Z

These are the most halcyon of days. I awoke at 10 and went for a run as I do. Sometimes when I go running... well really, just twice now, I've stopped to swing on the swing set in Grant Park and that's a lot of fun. Moving along. So I went running and then I came home and had a little quiet time. Read from the gospel of Luke, prayed to the good Lord. Took a shower. Then Amanda and I went to Dakota Blue for breakfast. That was a lot of fun. I like to eat there for cheap before I go to school sometimes.

While we were there, this guy comes ambling towards the restaurant. He is most peculiar. He is about our age, perhaps a little younger. He walked kind of like a man with no purpose but somehow it was obvious that he was aiming for Dakota Blue. Perhaps the oddest thing (and quite certainly the best thing) about him was that he had upon his head a bonnet; a wide-rimmed straw bonnet, sporting a jaunty pink ribbon tied in a bow and a little bundle of pink and purple flowers about it. It was most closely reminiscent of a woman's Easter bonnet from days of yore. It was entirely incongruous with his quasi-homeless, early nineties ensemble.

Well he eventually made his way to where we were sitting outside on the patio and he kind of made eye contact and didn't break it for so long that I decided to be pleasant on a Wednesday and say hello. I mean, who doesn't want to greet the charming stranger with the bonnet upon his head? So he is lingering about our table and I say hello and he says hey as though we were somehow the party he had come to meet. I asked him how he was doing and he returned the pleasantry.

Finally, perhaps a bit bewildered, Amanda asked, "Do you know Daniel?" And the young man replied, "I know Dan." I think at this point perhaps I said under my breath to Amanda, "He doesn't mean me..." After a little bit of conversation and confusion betwixt we, the normal, and utter peace and simple bemusement from our guest, we learned that his name was Cole. Cole was there to meet his tall friend Dan (we never saw him, but we were informed that he was tall), that Cole lived on the Ormwood side of things, that Cole probably smoked plenty of the weed, and that Cole really didn't have anything to do tonight.

He told us he had to get inside to his friend and Amanda invited him to come back and sit with us after their time together and Cole mumbled a sort of half assent and then headed inside. Amanda and I exchanged a look that said, "Well, we just experienced that." I told her I was thinking about asking him about the whole hat deal and she said, "Oh no, I don't want to step inside of it... I don't want to enter in, I just want to observe from the outside." So true. Why break the spell?

Well, shortly thereafter, Cole came back outside and did sit down with us for a spell. He asked us what we were doing later and what we were studying and such (quite the engaging chap, you know) and then he told us it was time for him to go. He then left us in his somnambulistic way.

About 10 minutes later, a car pulled up and he got out of the passenger side. He hurried in, proffering some quick and unintelligible excuse and then, quick as a flash, he left the restaurant for the second time, hopped into his passenger seat and was gone for good.

Well, after that, the rest of the day was slightly anticlimactic. Ah well, not really. But that was a highlight.

I went to school and forced myself to actually attend both of my made-up classes. I said made-up because I truly believe that my teachers are creating the curriculum off the cuff. One is a class on Afro-Hispanic literature and culture and the other is a class about emigration/immigration in Spain. Both topics that could be interesting, but lo, they are not for these wonderful educators are how you say... winging it. It almost physically pains to sit in a classroom listening to their pontifications when I could be doing most anything else. But this too shall pass (which is not a Bible verse by the way, just a thing people say).

After classes I turned homeward, Hannalee, and listened to Nina Simone on the way. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed her. Her bitter indignation and her soulful loneliness and her melancholy lost-innocence at the bottom of it all. I laid in bed and did a whole lot of nothing for a while. Then Michael Kai and I went to Dakota Blue for dinner. A Guinness and a pesto chicken sandwich are the cure to all ailments. Well, after Jesus, the Christ, my Lord and my God. But I really hadn't understood just how good a Guinness was until the other night. I had one and realized that perhaps a Guinness is the beer I should always be drinking. I researched the dark and lovely concoction this morning. I like how you almost feel like you're looking into the stormy sea as a Guinness settles, like you could almost tell the future if you stare at it long enough. Plus, you never really want to drink more than one Guinness which is a good thing for me. Amanda joined us and it was all quite splendid. Michael went off to rehearse with one of the 18 bands he's in these days and Amanda and I talked about delightful nonsense as we are prone to do...

Now I sit on Amanda's floor where I've been for what feels like all my life listening to Nina Simone on breaks between listening to gospel and R&B videos on youtube. She sits at her desk absently listening to a different Nina Simone song than I (for I have just introduced her to the joys of Nina) as she studies Chemistry.

This blog perfectly encapsulates all of my days. If ever you wonder to yourself, "Self, what might Daniel be doing today?" you can return to this blog, read it slowly and with a slight southern accent, knowing that perhaps (and most likely) I am doing the very same thing all over again. Except that tomorrow there will be small group at 7 o'clock and it will be the highlight of my week.

Here's hoping tomorrow is just as lovely. Thank you to all and to all a good night.

Simple.

2008-10-09T07:03:28Z

Just got home from a bar at 3 in the morning. Stone cold sober. Go me. Reading A Wrinkle in Time and going to bed. Happy. See y'all tomorrow for small group!

Where have I even been in my life?

2008-07-29T23:43:17Z

I don't even know what the crap is going on in this life in more! Oh em geeez, somebody pleaze put me out of my miseriiiieeees!

Any way, that's just a song I'm writing.

Ok, so like, what the crap have any of you skadiddles been doing lately any dang way?! So here's what I'm doing right this very stupid instant. I'm sitting at Amanda's dining room table waiting for her to prepare this made-up casserole that she has invented. It was gonna have mushrooms in it but the mushrooms were smelling like dog breath so we decided as a dang-fire group to not even include them in the made-up casserole. So it's got like all this cream of mushroom and chickens soup in it and rice and, well duh, chicken. She's also makin' biscuits and green beans so I have really high hopes for the banginest dinner of all time! Moving on.

The last couple of days have been a couple of days, for real. So I played with Christy the other day and we had muy awesome art day. I played with ink wash stuff which I haven't done since art class days so many moons ago. I also learned how to play with water colors which was muy fun-o. Y'all don't speak the Spanish so let me just tell you, that means it was a good time. Then last night I went to the park with Jared, Victoria, Jennifer Schweigert (did I spell yo' ish right, boo?), Leo, Kristen (whom I accidentally called Caitlin and she was not even having it), and my most favorite, Amanda. We drank a little wine and played hide and go peep and stuff. We had a good time just walking and musing about the Inman Park region. Amanda, Vicky, and I went into this wild-lookin' old apartment complex that had this huge arch and it looked like if you walked through it you would surely pop out in Narnia or some mess. Instead we just found some cigarette butts and this unkempt little dude with a lot of hair whose friend was there to pick him up. Eh. You win some, you lose some. My favorite thing that happened while we were playing was that Jennifer was running towards base and Amanda thought she had tagged her before Jenn got on, and Jennifer goes, "Nuh uh! I yelled olly olly oxen free!" And we were all like, "That's not even how that works..." And then I told her that because she was a Yankee, she was tryin' to rock some kind of little Yankee variety of playin' that we were so not into. Later, we talked about playing freeze tag and Amanda goes, "Ok, so what little Yankee saying to I have to holler so you won't tag me?" I thought that was so funny but of course, I think every word that drips from her lips like so much mellifluous honey is the funniest garbage to ever grace my ears. Yes, it's that serious!

Ummmmm... What else? I guess then we went back to Jared and Vicky's house and sat on the front porch and were bored as a monkey but couldn't really scrounge up the energy to like, move or do things. So you know. We began to just text the ChaCha service over and over again with the most ridiculous things. Many on the porch had never had the opportunity to be privy to the ChaCha thang, so they were enthralled by our explanation. Amanda sent this one question that said something like, "Yeah, so like will I ever be a doctor because I want to know if webbed feet, as in say, what a mallard has, have toe nails... So do you like volleyball?" I mean, I guess if you're not a very funny person this isn't actually funny to you, but it was the funniest stuff I'd ever heard last night. It had me cryin'! Oh yeah, and she said something about "not having any cats because they scratch and they gossip about you to your friends"! Dang. Priceless. I'm telling you. You gotta believe me. 'Cuz if you don't, I don't even care!

So today I woke up and went to stupid work so that I can have a little bit of pocket change or some mess. I had to shave like three days worth of facial hair (which is a full beard for my Iraqi behind) because I don't want to get fired which is dumb as crap. I need someone to offer me a new job. I don't want to do anything crazy like go LOOKING for a job; I just want someone to throw one at me and let it plop directly and unequivocally into my ever-waiting lap. I mean, who knows what I'm even talking about right now? This is the longest stupid livejournal post I've written in approximately ever. So hey. Um, ok. So I went to work. Wait, p.s. I forgot to say that last night I had weird-ass sex dreams and the night before that I had weird spiritual dreams. So those are always great. Um, after work I went back home and sat around nekkid because immediately when I get home after work I always take off every element of clothing because I hate those dumb, stupid Longhorn Steakhouse clothes. Then I talked to Vicky and I went to her house and we watched Good WIll Hunting for a little while. Minnie Driver has a wild jawline and Matt Damon has a very 1995 haircut. Keep your eyes peeled, y'all.

Ok, well tonight I suppose I'm gonna eat this dinner and then Ashley Wilson mentioned the gin word to me earlier and that could never hurt my feelings so many we're going to drink a little of the gin. Joel and I had talked about watching a movie but of course, in this non-committal world full of misunderstandings and unspoken confusion, that will probably never come to fruition.

In closing, I love you all very much and I wish you never-ending and bottomless cheer. I mean, those are pretty synonymous or whatever, but I really want your good times to be over-flowing. So many hyphenated adjectival phrases in my writing...

Ok, peace be with you. Bass, out.

In case you didn't know...

2008-05-30T06:49:51Z

I am retarded.

ugh.

2008-05-16T16:58:43Z

My mouth tastes like sour old Checker's (gotta eat) and Steel Reserve. Watch out, last night...

Out of the Silent Planet

2008-05-15T06:32:45Z

I just walked outside naked to get a book out of my car. I may make a habit of walking outside naked late at night because it felt slightly exhilarating.

Ew.

2008-05-10T00:30:05Z

I like finding a little bit of scab on my knee to pick.

My face is transfigured.

2008-04-05T15:53:52Z

I just shaved my face with a razor and not a beard trimmer for the first time in 5 years. Washing my face was the strangest sensation I can ever remember feeling. My face feels like raw chicken. Then my alpha-beta-hydroxy whatever lotion that I put on it when I got out of the shower almost burned it off.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror.

video blaaaaaawg!

2008-04-01T22:51:31Z

You may never see me again...

2008-04-01T19:44:28Z

Of my triumvirate of favorite singers, Rachelle Ferrell, Whitney Houston, and CeCe Winans, none has had a cd come out in a while so you guys have had the pleasure of seeing my face lately. No more. CeCe's new cd came out today and it is so hot! You may never see me again...

Easter.

2008-03-22T18:01:36Z

There is something so wonderful about Spring and it is clearly afoot today. It feels like everything is soon to be born and is coming alive and is ready to spring into action. At least that’s how I feel. Maybe it’s just because nothing puts me in a good mood more quickly than sunshine and good weather. As I sat outside reading the last book in the Chronicles of Narnia I thought, "I would not rather be doing anything else." One does not always have the pleasure of thinking this thought and so I am simply taking a moment to glory in it and in this day.

I think much of the excitement has to do with the celebration of Easter tomorrow. The first reason being that I will be only too glad to break my fast tomorrow and feast with friends and family. As I lay here I feel my heart beating so strongly against my empty stomach as though it is some internal march towards the celebration tomorrow.

More importantly than the thought of food and drink is the wonderful realization that tomorrow we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord and Savior. For those who believe on His name (John 1:12) this is the best news there ever has been. During this season of Lent as we’ve actively participated in the recognition of the death of Christ, I have been confronted over and over again with the dead man that I once was. Yesterday I set about remembering some of the truly shameful things that I have done. Some I had almost forgotten and I felt a fresh wave of embarrassment and pain at the thought of them. But more than any sense of lamentation, I became deeply aware of the "death to self" that has become ingrained in me. Things that used to characterize and define me no longer do. There is a part of me that is eternally in the grave with Jesus.

The good news to my entire soul is that there is another part of me that is entirely risen and wide awake and alive more abundantly (John 10:10) that thrills at the resurrection and new life of Christ. I think it is very easy for someone not acquainted with Jesus to simply consider Him a set of practices and rules that His followers attend to haphazardly and poorly. The fact of the matter is that I can’t feel like that because this day, the day before Easter Sunday, I feel like someone who is entirely new (2 Chronicles 5:17). Jesus is a very much alive person with whom I interact and live. The truth is, I love Him because He loved me first (1 John 4:19).

My aim is not to convince anyone of the truth of my claims. My intention is simply to share joy in the resurrection with fellow believers and to thank my God that I get to be a part of it. For anyone who wants to be a part of the celebration with me, tomorrow or in the future, it would make me a happy man to engage in that with you.

God bless you and thanks for reading.

icecreamplease @ 2008-03-18T01:04:00

2008-03-18T05:21:46Z

Well, I don't know who I've become but I'm laying in bed listening to Bright Eyes at 1 in the morning and feeling a little worse for wear and melancholy. I suppose there's no way to not feel melancholy when listening to this song that I'm listening to for the first time. I scratched another car's bumper tonight and left a sizable scratch on my own fairly new vehicle. So that's probably why I feel a little like Connor Oberst is the best lyricist I've listened to in a while! Wait, that's probably not why.

I don't really mean to be complainy. It's been a great time as of late. I got my new mac book and I am more enamored of it than I have ever been of any piece of technology. I feel like Elroy. The kid off the Jetsons, y'all. I got it at the end of last week. I went to the mall to get it and stopped by to visit Christy. She told me to wait for her to go buy it so I went to visit Andy Medlin in Neiman Marcus and lo and behold, there was some sort of AIDS Atlanta free food/free drinks/fashion show/ black hole of wonder and magic in the middle of the mall! Needless to say, I had Christy meet me down there and we had our fill. I broke edge as far as the fast goes but I enjoyed the event and the company.

Not this most recent Sunday but a week ago I went to Stone Mountain with Christy, Victoria, Wes, William, and Mark and we had a good old time. Video evidence can be seen here:

Greatness. We flew kites. I promise I'm not always that country. Christy and I bring it out in each other.

Here is the other great video treasure to be mined; Amanda and I discussing some things:

Ok, that's the scoop, y'all.

Wait, not really. I think it just bears mentioning that I've been really confronted by Jesus' calling us to discipleship lately. I just have to praise God for His Spirit in me making things not as hard as they used to be. Discipleship and obedience look really scary from outside but I'm finding out it's worth it.

Sorry to be all heavy and spiritual at the end, but you know, hey. It's my journal. I get to praise God :-)

Love y'all. Later.

I want new stuff!

2008-03-07T08:48:35Z

Ok. I guess that's crazy talk, but for real! I want to get a job at Rathbun's. Blaine tonight put wicked fantasies in my head of being a big-ballin', shot-callin' waiter at Rathbun's makin' $60,000 a year. And you know that would be alright by me. I also want an iPod or iPhone plus the Mac Book I'm gonna get with tax returns.

I wanna be the cool guy with the cool stuff!

Meanwhile, I'm the cool Mexican who couldn't get the cool tan at the damn beach.

Daytona, Spring Break '08, Bike Week... You coulda been a contender. You let me down, you let Devilisha (my car) down, but worst of all... you let yourself down.

Damn, son.

Alright, is Easter here yet? Y'all know I'm tired of Lent and ready for a ginny gin gin.

Just kiddin' (kind of). Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Christy, I love you, boo. See you tomorrow.

Aight, the end.