every sunday a prairie home companion brings to life a forgotten song of my youth. this morning it was I Can't Feel at Home in This World Anymore . each sunday for 3-4 minutes i "have church", a string of moments injected with the joy of aural memory.

i'm happy that i can still enjoy this song, even though the words no longer hold the meaning they once had for me.

----

so what has shnn been up to?

well, obviously working too much (granny would say i've been "too busy to even wipe my hiney" -- gotta love those family colloquialisms). but it looks like a solution is in the works (even if it means giving up editing for a while). this means i'll have clean laundry again, i can actually start reading again, and maybe i'll stop dreaming about work nightly.

i feel like i can breathe again, unwind the curl of stress in my stomach....

and say again that things are good.

things are good.



last weekend i spent the night in cleburne w/ my grandparents. i cooked chili for sunday after-church dinner in an attempt to spare gran the effort and expense of cooking -- she of course prepared a roast anyway. we stayed up late saturday night, and i quizzed them on their past. their lives are ripe with incredible stories. when i asked what her favorite memory is, she told me it's the day she got saved, when her friend blackie dragged them to a tent revival. papa told me how he was called to the ministry (he heard voices when he prayed, urging him towards that life -- and at a revival the evangelist called him up to preach). before that he worked in the shipyard near new orleans.

we got us a good giggling lesson (meaning we had a good long conversation punctuated by laughter) and i retired to the small room she'd cleaned out for me (it's usually the storage space for xmas presents). yep, that's a doll in pink standing next to a gun case there.

church sunday was interesting. i went to the old folks sunday school class, where the tiny lady behind the podium laid a little fire and brimstone on us; then praise and worship in the sanctuary and children's church with my cousins.

we had us a good visit; everyone liked my chili (despite the lack of meat). papa managed to save a sick jack russell puppy, and i fell in love with their goat dog all over again.

a great visit overall.

---

lunch with mom on tuesday for her actual birthday,

work work work,

a crazy tummyache, floor swept, bathtub clean and five stitches later, i sort of had a breakdown and fled to austin for a 24-hour trip that put me back in a space of peace and calm.

went to a bookstore, wandered the city streets by car, listened to stories, talked politics, ate well, came back for the IR Gallery sculpture opening (if only i had 4K!) and here i sit in post-meet the press musings, lake woebegone coming from my speakers, the almost-autumn day wafting through the loft that i'll now clean.

the day is good.

help.

i don't know how to do this.

update
(five stitches later)


i'm at work. listening to the shins. finding it difficult to concentrate.

despite my protestations, i regret missing lunch with my company and our author. hell, i'm still wearing this confounded skirt.

and i forgot to explain the importance of hydrogen peroxide:
it really sucks to pour rubbing alcohol on an open (if small) wound.

-----

in the spirit of bootstrap pulling, i will tell you that things are looking up. if i didn't believe in the no-backspace rule i'd retitle the last post a good day's very bad start

(even if i have to make it so)

the importance of hydrogen peroxide

(or, a day's very bad start)

i've been so close to the emotional edge here lately, barely keeping myself focused. i'm pushed to the very limits of my capabilities on every level--

i think something cracked this morning.

i stepped out my front door, ready to take trash to the dumpster and grab something to wear today out of my car (i did laundry at granny's sunday; been so busy since that they've remained there). i was grouching pretty mean, irritated that i have to dress up for lunch with our "B-celebrity" author who's in town.

and, i was in yoga clothes because i didn't want to shower before lugging heavy shit -- no sense in getting sweaty first thing.

so my leg had no protection when i hefted the trash bag up and over a bit to get a better grasp, and the broken glass inside sliced my thigh. (special thanks to berkley for breaking my candleholder around 3am last night.)

and now i'm just kind of sitting here, still crying from the surprise, pressing a clean washcloth against the wound and peeking at it now and then -- do i need stitches? --- i haven't showered. i have no bandaids. i don't want to get my skirt bloody.

lord, i still haven't shaved.

and i'm just stuck -- i've spent so much time and energy trying to order things at work that i've got nothing left to order my morning. do i shower now? go down first to get a shirt and underwear from the car? try to call mom again to see how one knows if they need stitches? and what of the awful trash; it needs to go downstairs (it has the remains of a stinky jack-o-lantern). what comes first? shouldn't my cut start closing up or something?

i'm tired, folks. my poor brain hurts, and all i can see ahead are months and months more of work and stress.

i called my brother this afternoon

hey rich, it's your sister. what you up to?
he replied: i'm feeding this dude.



sometimes i forget that he cares for the elderly and mentally ill for a living.

when i say that something changed my life, i'm referring to something personal, something that implies action on my part as much as an other's influence.

of course there are certain things that have affected our development; we are always situated within a context. i'm not arguing that things like christianity, capitalism, democracy, technologies etc. have not contributed to the shnn that is today. the study of these things and their place and effect on culture (or the way that they are culture) continues to fascinate me.

but in a very personal way, there are a few things that i have encountered (especially in my adult life) that were life-changing. shnn-forming.

some are texts (actually, they all are acc'd to my definition ;), some cds, some people.

the thought i'm pressed with today is this: there's a human who really changed my life whom i never met, and never will (unless my former eschatological belief turns out to be right. maybe i can sit near him on judgment day).

jacques derrida's scholarship is a gift for which i'm grateful.

Classmates sue over "Dazed and Confused"

Three former high school classmates of "Dazed and Confused" director Richard Linklater have filed a lawsuit claiming they have suffered embarrassment and ridicule because of characters based on them in the movie....

derrida passed away last night.

my neighborhood is besieged by thousands of people clad in orange and red. how did i manage to forget that it's texas/OU weekend? i'm functionally trapped in my building until the game gets going.

just a year ago daniel, justin and jill were in town visiting and we had a party on my rooftop deck.

i think i've been playing too much sims2. i'm looking out the window at all the insanity across the street and notice that my herbs need some pruning, and i find myself shaking my head and thinking "no, i'm too depressed to do that right now" (i half expect a bubble to pop up over my head showing a plant with an x through it).

the debate last night was disheartening; i'm in the clutches of despair over my lack of agency, angry about our system's limitations. i'm looking forward to going to the office this afternoon; it will be helpful to focus on work and be productive. otherwise i'll sit here reading more news (indonesian embassy in paris bombed, the egypt bombings, the mess of an election in afghanistan, the ridiculous debate spinners and sound bite after irritating sound bite from yesterday's farcical town meeting debate) while the blood alcohol level of the crowd raging outside my home increases exponentially....

we need travis henderson.

you've got to love it when political discourse breaks down and folks resort to insults. my sister polished off her latest argument by calling kerry "frenchy mchorseface".

wow.

triumph!

i handed out all of my white voter registration cards (the kind you mail in) and had to pick some more up downtown.



looks like i'll have registered six friends and seven strangers as well (folks new to texas or those who moved to other voting districts within dallas county). it's not much -- it's not stopping any war -- but it's something.

and i registered mom's husband to vote.

my mother maligned me today for supporting kerry.

what's interesting are her arguments... she threw in various heinz-related insults and faux-complimented kerry on toning down the orange makeup for this debate.

i restrained myself from pointing out the prominent baselines that mark the sunday churchgoing chins of our beloved family members, or pointing out that we're not at war over ketchup.

what i've stopped doing is asking mom to substantiate her claims/attacks, because she just gets upset and tells me she "raised me better than this"....

i gently remind her, again and again, that yes she did raise me. and i think she did a damn good job of raising a kind, thoughtful human being.

----

i've come a long way in four years; last election i lied to my family when they pressured me: you did vote for bush?....

i've stopped lying, or bothering to answer when my family pushes me like this -- they don't really want to know what i think, care not about my convictions. they just want me to agree with them.

i privilege honest communication, debate and conversation that's tempered with love and respect for one another. i have little patience for the repeated demand that i believe just as they do.

(what's interesting now is my grandfather and aunt's political shift; they don't agree that a vote for bush is by nature a christian vote. they look in bafflement at the situation in iraq, listen in awe to warmongering discourse spoken from the mouth of one who seems to claim divine appointment to the white house. papa said recently, "we need to remind our president and our country: blessed are the peacemakers")


*though this does bring up an interesting thought. what if a company, say coca-cola, refused to distribute their product to countries (or states in the US) they had a beef with? you know: no coke to states with democrat governors. or no coke to countries who have iffy human rights violations. or communist ties. what if chick-fil-a were the mcdonalds of the world and pulled out of muslim countries? convert or you'll have no more waffle fries!

well, gilley's last night was a bust. geez... i'd rather go to church. the bar was most definitely not open and the whole thing took on the aura of an odd political rah rah party. it was like a tent-revival, with worse music.

what is it about organized political events that feels like organized religion?

as the five fine folks i'd dragged there made our hurried exit (sucking down overpriced redbullvodka and capecod) they tried to stop us, you're not leaving are you? and dan threw back a reply as we hurried to our family van yes! we are! and flew back to my place to watch the debate.

---

wow, is it too much to ask that our president be articulate?

somehow i don't think that george's bumbling will be exploited quite like dean's campaign scream. (thx to daniel for the link)

overall i think that kerry did well, but i wonder how much of my opinion is colored by the urgent wishhope that he'll unseat bush.

i'm looking forward to the VP debate--

in my fantasy, derrida moderates the debate and we get commentary by richard rorty directly afterwards. that guy needs to get a blog.