We are not clever, but sometimes we hit something that makes us think. Those thoughts live here.
visual stun gun
that pinned me to my chair
A bright flash of cotton candy sky
struck frozen by a stare
For that split second
with a smile on her lips and a step that quickened
time put on the brakes
and i was drunken
its an odd feeling,
paralyzed by a glance.
being numbed for a jiffy
with only a glance.
winter was the year for sleeping
it's a poetry kind of week.p.s. Rachel took these lovely photos.
Cold Hands
Through a Dark Mirror, Dimly
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| KM |
My husband will tell you that I am my gender’s biggest critic. I cringe at the thought of being swallowed into women’s events: at being surrounded by mindless prattle. Don’t get me wrong: I often enjoy myself once there, and am guilty of “loving her shoes”, but in general, the thought of entering into it is painful. Lots of...fluff. The longer I am on this planet, the more I realize that I share my father’s loathe of small talk. And, I realize that while some of my rough edges have gotten shaved off by life, in many ways I have become sharper. Not in the intellectual sense.
Night Lights
I like looking out the windows while trapped inside at work. Seeing the
sun setting and knowing I will soon be both entering and leaving work in
darkness... well, scenes like these are a comfort. They are a consolation prize that actually mean something to me.
Real thoughts after the jump...
And That's Life.
Radiolab did a short recently on "what a slinky knows" (here's a link to the piece).
This really isn't going to be boring and science-y, I promise. Life lesson stuff.
Anchors, Futures, & Everything in Between.
Solomon: (Rising.) You see, it’s also, this particular furniture—the average
person he’ll take one look, it’ll make him very nervous.
VICTOR: Why’ll it make him nervous?
Solomon: Because he knows it’s never gonna break.
Solomon: Because he knows it’s never gonna break.
Fall, Football, & Some Thoughts on Being Perfect
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| Before the storm - a little father-son futbol action was taking place on the Nettlehorst Elementary School playground. |
Oh, Autumn.
Storytelling: When I Take Out the Trash
I get to chat with this man.
There is this thing that has been pressing up against me. It will not be quiet and whispers in every place I am.
Yesterday, I received a text from a friend that said, “Friends please pray for me today. My job is sucking the life out of me, and I’m looking for other jobs, but today I’m just really discouraged.” After work I met another friend, who loves her job, makes lots of money, but whose source of angst was the house they could not get, and the money they do not have. On the train ride home, there was a man who asked, “won’t you please spare something, it’s hard to breathe, see, and I just … and then … and you just don’t know.” He wore an oxygen mask that was attached to nothing. And ever since, this thing, it has grabbed me, and it won’t let me go.
In all the ways I don’t know, yes I do. I do know. We are all hungry for something.
Look at my honesty.
I moved to Chicago five years ago to experience “broader culture”.
Maybe you grew up like me: a corn fed, white bread, bible belt, WASP. My hometown has 1800 people, which David and I fondly (honestly …fondly) refer to as “Pleasantville”. This is the place where children grow under many eyes, and neighbors bring over tomatoes and baked goods ‘just because’. It is not for love of scenery, ethnicity or culture that people love to live there. It is for community.
All dreams of moving to the city from small town Americana are equal parts vanity and adventure. It will be new. It will be sweet. This place is too small. I can make it. I can make it on my own.
Once you move away, you still have to eat, pay rent, go to school/work a job. The reality is, every special snowflake has also moved to the city. The ‘diversity’ that you dreamed of experiencing either comes through spectator experiences or residence in neighborhoods where your leave-the-keys-in-the-ignition hometown self doesn’t necessarily enjoy walking alone at night. There are, however, plenty of opportunities to visit ‘broader culture’ and live in neighborhoods full of people just like you. You know, kind of like what you moved away from. I didn’t realize the irony of this until recently, and I’m half a decade in.
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