temptation

It's that time of year again; the time where many of us try to come up with something that's hard to give up, but really...not too difficult. And what about those of us who really have none of the standard vices? I have to admit I was a little stumped for this year. I don't smoke, I don't drink a lot, I don't eat meat, I don't really eat chocolate, I don't drink soda and the one thing that I am addicted to is not feasible for me to give up. And I don't mean in a selfish way. If I were to give up coffee for 40 days, it would not be a pretty 40 days and it would be best if I were holed up in my apartment. The way I would respond to people would not be a good example of "brotherly love," and so I think I'm safe that coffee will not be required of me.

I won't go into everything I've opted to do, since I do think it is more a personal thing, but I do have one question to ask. One thing I did give up, sort of on a whim, was chocolate. Like I said I above, I don't really eat it. I'll go weeks without chocolate because it's not something I crave. Now...with that being said. I walk into work on Wednesday where a box of bite-size brownies from a recent program are sitting out, a dark chocolate bar is sitting in the work-room, along with a box of dark chocolate bars we've had sitting in there and a dish of chocolates from Valentine's Day sitting in the front office. And I admit, without thinking, I almost took a chocolate brownie. But I remembered it was Ash Wednesday and I couldn't for the life of me admit to breaking my Lent on the first day.

So I resisted. But it was so hard since it was no longer a matter of not wanting it, but now it was a matter of not being able to have it (theoretically...because I could and no one but me would ever be the wiser).

And I have no Mardi Gras stories because my exciting last-indulgence was going to class.

national geographic and accumulation

This year for my birthday I asked for, and received, a second year's subscription to my beloved yellow magazine. Last year was the first year I had my own subscription. But I remember being young and we had a cabinet packed full of NGs in our den; they were double stacked on the shelves with more recent issues stacked on top. I used to pour through them learning about whatever I was interested in (at that time it was mainly whales and other sorts of marine biology and Saturn).

Sadly, we got rid of them when selling the house. Who really needs National Geographic from the late 1970s and early 1980s? Most of that information is probably obsolete now, like an issue on the solar system since we know now that those issues would have one planet too many.

On my lower shelf right now I have about 14 issues; one I bought before my subscription started and then 2007's January issue. On my coffee table I have February and March. That's quite a bit of yellow. And I can be quite the packrat, something I'm trying to overcome. So I wonder, is it necessary to keep all these issues? How often am I going to go back and look at the article on "Hawaii's Unearthly Worms?" But if I only keep the issues I'll probably go back and read...well...then I'll have an incomplete set. Are my issues doomed for the trash whenever I move?

As a certified nerd, I love seeing those yellow spines all lined up. I have maybe only gone back to look through one or two issues, but the year's still young.

On a side note: I just read an article that says the Year of the Pig will bring violence, disease and epidemics. Because last year wasn't bad enough. Oh, but children born in this year will be lucky. Personally, I'd rather have a fortuitous year for those of us already in existence.

pulse

In high school I wrote a lot of poetry, and even through the first...three years of college. In college I had a couple of great nights at the open mic night at The Grind. I read a few times, and it's such an incredible rush to be up there reading your work. Your heart races and it's almost all you can hear in your own ears. And when you finish, you find that you're a little out of breath. It was very different than the Writer's Club I was involved in, and my creative writing classes in high school, because you knew everyone there. Reading at The Grind, I maybe only really knew the girls I went with. Rachel really perfected the Open Mic.

Anyway...I have to admit that my flow of poetry has diminished in the past few years. And I'm not sure what it is. I don't think I'm any less inspired. I think maybe it's because for some time, I was so focused on my prose and my novel that I couldn't really think...well, I don't want to say that I couldn't think poetically because I'd like to think that I can infuse some poetry into my prose.

I came across this poem I wrote this past fall that sort of came to me while walking around DC. It's called Pulse, after the pulse that's alive in this city. That's what I love about living in the city; there's so much life here. I love it here. I love the rush of the trains while you stand on the metro platforms, the snowflake lights down around MetroCenter during the holidays, crossing 16th Street and looking down at the White House...and I could go on.

This is nervewracking. I haven't had anyone read my poetry in a very long time (partly since I don't really write it anymore). I've been wanting to go to one down on U Street, but now I have my French class on the same night. Once it finishes in a few weeks, I'll have to start going to check it out. It'll be some time before I read, if ever, but I love the open mic nights. I just love words and hearing them is just as good as reading and writing them. Who knows? Maybe being around all that poetry will get me writing again.

You can let me know if you felt the urge to snap your fingers.

Pulse

October 2006

I feel your pulse along the streets
your brightness against the lamps above
and the rush I feel from you
with every passing vehicle and metro train.
Something alive
and when I'm there on the edge
I feel it too
for a brief fleeting moment
my pulse matching the beat of the street
and the fluttering of dead leaves
you, my city, are not black and white
something teeming here
beneath the surface but not yet in shadows.
I find myself lost amid monuments
to the heroes of the past
knowing you are creating the heroes of tomorrow
with each beat
a motorcade, a protest, a helicopter, a no-fly zone.
The veins feeding down tot he center
and out from the center
feeding me,
feeding life into me
your pulse setting mine.

the frenzy begins...

...and I'm hanging out in my apartment doing laundry and French homework. The Super Bowl frenzy is just beyond me. Yes...I realize it's because I am not a football kind of girl. I'll take my Cowboyz anyday and of course have loyalty to the Stillers, but other than that...eh. I actually kind of forgot it was today (gasp! the horror!)

I have since learned...somewhat. In recent years I have fallen for soccer (football) hard, and love it more than I used to. No idea where this recent passion came from. This past summer was my first World Cup with this new-found love. And it rocked! Up until the end when Italy beat France, which shouldn't have happened. France dominated that game. *ahem* Anyway. Yes, I was a little caught up in the football frenzy then. To anyone who chastises this frenzy, I have to say "Come on! We only get this every four years!"

To those who love the game, I say to you, enjoy. It is a relatively healthy way to get out the aggression that seems to be in our nature. I may not understand it or understand the constant stopping and resetting up, or the accumulation of points, but I enjoy the thrill of it. I had a great time the last Cowboys' game I was at, seeing the stands go wild for America's Team (sorry Washingtonians...I had to say it), and I remember thinking that soccer games would be all the more exciting had America's stands filled up to this capacity for the game, instead of the 1/3 section of the stadium.

Enjoy your camadarie, and your arguments if your best friend likes the other team. I'll understand if your week is ruined if your team loses, but may the best team win. And besides...look on the brightside if you lose: you won't have to wait four more years.

There's always next year.

hemingway

It seems that I've been waxing poetic lately about Hemingway. For some reason he's come up in quite a few recent conversations, and that may be because I recently finished a collection of short stories by him (The Snows of Kilamanjaro is great, especially the title story and the last one).

I just read a short piece of fiction currently up online from a previous issue of a magazine, and I have to say that I'm less than impressed. It's instantly apparent what the subject is, and to be honest, the religious ponderings were a little over the top. I know I'm not some award-winning short story writer, but this piece just kind of...well, I was turned off by it. The piece was about a young, unmarried Christian couple who were supposed to get an abortion, only the girl didn't want to go through with it. There wasn't any dialogue in the story, and it was all laid out in thoughts, which could work but I don't think it did here.

Now I'm also trying to remember, but I don't think he actually mentioned what the "appointment" was, but again, it was pretty clear.

Ok. The reason I'm bringing up Hemingway. I still remember in high school, I think senior AP English, reading Hills like White Elephants by Hemingway. It was about the same thing, but it was never said. It was only alluded to in the most subtle way, and it worked remarkably. It's been years since I read it, but I still have the English book from class and have it with me, and I think later this week I might have to pull it out and reread it. Since it's been some time, I can't quite remember all the techniques that he used.

It's interesting to see a similar idea (a touchy subject) described without really mentioning it, and of course the types of characters and very different settings and see how they play off. I'm going to have to say that Hemingway came out on top. If I can remember that story five, six years later and can remember more than just the unique title, then you know he did something right.

But then again, it is Hemingway.