So I went to the doctor because the middle puncture wound is sort of red and hurty. He thinks it is infected, so he gives me a tetanus shot. And, because I am leaving for Tokyo on Monday, he is sending me to a surgeon to get the wound lanced. Awesome.
I am no longer so excited about the zombie-like appearance of the bite. I'm not gonna lie.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Family
High school, for me, was fun. I'm not gonna tell you that it was perfect--it wasn't. There were heartbreaks and broken promises, there was disillusion and disempowerment, there were moments of being and moments of rage. But, on the whole, it was a good time, and most of that good time happened because of the close circle of friends to which I belonged.
There were four of us, and we spent, literally, every possible moment that we could together--writing notes during the day, going to each other's houses in the afternoons and on weekends, band trips (yes, I was in band--how surprised are you?) and family vacations and out-of-town concerts (We totally saw U2 in Birmingham from the FRONT ROW). After high school, we stayed friends... sort of. Everybody's off doing important things--and we see each other occasionally when we are home. Thanks to things like Myspace and blogs, we can keep in touch virtually, as well.
This weekend, one of our dads died. I say, "our dad," not to belittle the suffering of his three natural daughters and his devoted wife. I say "our dad" because we grew up, the four of us, with four different families to keep us on track. Because of the time we spent together, I think that sometimes our parents would get confused--and so, all of us became targets for parental direction, regardless of biology. It was infuriating. At the time. Now I look back and recognize that my high school days were filled with goodness because we moved in those love-filled, laughter-rich, safety-guaranteed spaces.
We are powerful, intelligent, brave women--mostly because we grew up in that universe.
So, Saturday, one of our dads died. He was a marvelous teller of stories--and he had a memory that seemed to be particularly designed to catch and keep the most ridiculous things high school girls can do. He was a devoted husband, a bemused father, a gleeful grandfather, a wonderful friend, a raucous debater, a trivia master, a die-hard Tennessee fan, and a good man. He was good at life, and he knew it. All of the people whose lives he touched are reeling from his loss.
This is my would-be eulogy for a man that I am glad I knew. We are better for having known you, Chuck, and we will miss you. Oh, yeah--and thanks for all the Doritos.
Love,
Jaime
There were four of us, and we spent, literally, every possible moment that we could together--writing notes during the day, going to each other's houses in the afternoons and on weekends, band trips (yes, I was in band--how surprised are you?) and family vacations and out-of-town concerts (We totally saw U2 in Birmingham from the FRONT ROW). After high school, we stayed friends... sort of. Everybody's off doing important things--and we see each other occasionally when we are home. Thanks to things like Myspace and blogs, we can keep in touch virtually, as well.
This weekend, one of our dads died. I say, "our dad," not to belittle the suffering of his three natural daughters and his devoted wife. I say "our dad" because we grew up, the four of us, with four different families to keep us on track. Because of the time we spent together, I think that sometimes our parents would get confused--and so, all of us became targets for parental direction, regardless of biology. It was infuriating. At the time. Now I look back and recognize that my high school days were filled with goodness because we moved in those love-filled, laughter-rich, safety-guaranteed spaces.
We are powerful, intelligent, brave women--mostly because we grew up in that universe.
So, Saturday, one of our dads died. He was a marvelous teller of stories--and he had a memory that seemed to be particularly designed to catch and keep the most ridiculous things high school girls can do. He was a devoted husband, a bemused father, a gleeful grandfather, a wonderful friend, a raucous debater, a trivia master, a die-hard Tennessee fan, and a good man. He was good at life, and he knew it. All of the people whose lives he touched are reeling from his loss.
This is my would-be eulogy for a man that I am glad I knew. We are better for having known you, Chuck, and we will miss you. Oh, yeah--and thanks for all the Doritos.
Love,
Jaime
Saturday, July 26, 2008
And sometimes people get bitten by dogs
Um, so on Thursday, I got bitten by a dog. Here's a picture of the bite, right after the initial attack:
Pretty gnarly, eh? I would just like you to know that I handled it like a champ. Aside from a little bit of crying, I totally cleaned up the wound and dressed it all by myself. Here is a picture of the wound today: 
It seems to be healing nicely. And, in defense of the dog, he was not from around here (the sister of my downstairs neighbor was moving him to California). Woe betide Californians who are taking out the garbage some Thursday evening and come across this little guy:
The sister, on the other hand, I will not defend. Dogs who are being treated nicely and getting enough attention, mostly do not bite. And, if you happen to live with a dog who gets nervous and bites people, then you should leash that shit.
In Other News:
1) My dear friends, K & J, are in town from CA. We are doing many fun NYC things while they are here (not including getting bitten by dogs). Tomorrow, we see the Mets in Shea. Monday, we go to David Letterman (Simon Pegg from SHAUN OF THE DEAD is one of the guests, for real). And Tuesday, we see the Yankees.
2) Really really really starting to dislike Ninja Warrior. Why oh why did I think I should write about a favorite thing?
3) Tokyo is, literally, right around the corner. Dog bite and all, I am heading out of the country a week from Monday.
4) Saw "The Dark Knight" on opening night in a theater filled with Very Loud New Yorkers. The Awesome.
Pretty gnarly, eh? I would just like you to know that I handled it like a champ. Aside from a little bit of crying, I totally cleaned up the wound and dressed it all by myself. Here is a picture of the wound today: 
It seems to be healing nicely. And, in defense of the dog, he was not from around here (the sister of my downstairs neighbor was moving him to California). Woe betide Californians who are taking out the garbage some Thursday evening and come across this little guy:
The sister, on the other hand, I will not defend. Dogs who are being treated nicely and getting enough attention, mostly do not bite. And, if you happen to live with a dog who gets nervous and bites people, then you should leash that shit.
In Other News:
1) My dear friends, K & J, are in town from CA. We are doing many fun NYC things while they are here (not including getting bitten by dogs). Tomorrow, we see the Mets in Shea. Monday, we go to David Letterman (Simon Pegg from SHAUN OF THE DEAD is one of the guests, for real). And Tuesday, we see the Yankees.
2) Really really really starting to dislike Ninja Warrior. Why oh why did I think I should write about a favorite thing?
3) Tokyo is, literally, right around the corner. Dog bite and all, I am heading out of the country a week from Monday.
4) Saw "The Dark Knight" on opening night in a theater filled with Very Loud New Yorkers. The Awesome.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Good in the Water
We slide.
Out of the water
Out of the sun
Into the shadows,
We are full of holes
And that makes us heavy.
But
We slide.
You are better on land than I am,
More familiar with the surprising terrain,
More comfortable amid canyons
And craters.
You are adept and agile,
Leaping from rock to rock
With abandon—anything
To keep from hearing the echoes
Behind you.
You must be fast to out run them.
I am better in the water
Where outlines blur
And the patterns of light are refracted—making small
Things large
And large things inconsequential.
Somehow, despite our varying abilities,
Amphibious or terrestrial,
We agree on several things:
First, that Echoes are scary—they remind us of the
Holes we crawled away from, they tie us to the
Things we wish we never knew;
Second, Shadows and Suns are more alike than people might suspect—
Both useful for secrecy or revelation,
As long as we apply them in moderation;
And third, to be Good in the Water,
All you have to do is stop breathing.
Out of the water
Out of the sun
Into the shadows,
We are full of holes
And that makes us heavy.
But
We slide.
You are better on land than I am,
More familiar with the surprising terrain,
More comfortable amid canyons
And craters.
You are adept and agile,
Leaping from rock to rock
With abandon—anything
To keep from hearing the echoes
Behind you.
You must be fast to out run them.
I am better in the water
Where outlines blur
And the patterns of light are refracted—making small
Things large
And large things inconsequential.
Somehow, despite our varying abilities,
Amphibious or terrestrial,
We agree on several things:
First, that Echoes are scary—they remind us of the
Holes we crawled away from, they tie us to the
Things we wish we never knew;
Second, Shadows and Suns are more alike than people might suspect—
Both useful for secrecy or revelation,
As long as we apply them in moderation;
And third, to be Good in the Water,
All you have to do is stop breathing.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Stop what you are doing
Right now*, and watch this: Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog. Seriously. Watch it. Instantly.
Why are you still reading** this?
*Special thanks to E at over at The Geek Prospectus for the rec. Geeks rock.
**And you're still reading. Quit it.
Why are you still reading** this?
*Special thanks to E at over at The Geek Prospectus for the rec. Geeks rock.
**And you're still reading. Quit it.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
It is Saturday
And I am sitting in my apartment, watching Ghostbusters and eating Maggie Moo's ice cream right out of the container. Life is good.
In case you were wondering, these last few weeks have been chock-full of revelations and relaxations. Below is a list of some of those moments.
1) I think Not-blogging/Blogging may really affect my writing. I have been reading lots (preparing for the book chapter and the conference paper), but I have not written a thing in weeks. If writing is dinner, then blogging is like a good, cold martini--gets the mouth and mind ready for the meal.
2) Vermont is everything it's cracked up to be.
3) Ordering a coffee and a sidecar really does make one feel like Auntie Mame.
4) I am looking forward to school starting in the fall--I will bring you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils.
5) The hotdogs at Shea Stadium are better than the hotdogs at Yankee.
6) I seem to have misplaced my DVD of Eddie Izzard's "Dressed to Kill"--which is fucking tragic.
7) When somebody brings me flowers, my day always gets better.
8) Howard Frank Mosher, a guy who writes about the Kingdom (also known as the
northern part of VT--where my daddy is from), is awesome. I just read two of his books, "Marie Blythe" and "Northern Borders," and I cannot recommend them highly enough.
9) I think "When You are Engulfed in Flames" is my new favorite David Sedaris book. As a collection, it is pretty much stellar.
10) Wall-e is lovely. And I think it was the result of a drunken dare. Over sidecars and coffee on some Saturday night, some random said to the Pixar folks, "I'll bet you cannot make an adorable, touching, beautiful movie starring a robot. That doesn't speak. Whose sidekick is a cockroach. Seriously."
11) This is for E!: I've been thinking about your voicemail message the other day, and here's what I think. I think memory works in a reactive manner... Like, the same way that skin does--two functions:
a) Separation: in the process of creating a self, a collection of memories and recollections, memory works to separate things out from other things--creating and keeping the self intact and whole (most of the time). Which also might be why people with memory issues are so at-a-loss in the symbolic order.
b) Protection: the separation of self from other, through specific memories and (sometime) imaginative re-collecting, keeps the dangerous, self-splitting stuff out. Like skin, memory builds up around the soft, tender parts and becomes a kind of barrier--not completely impenetrable but better than being always-already-open--to the vicissitudes of world.
12) The view from the top of the Met is incomparable. You should see it. Call me, and I'll meet you there.
In case you were wondering, these last few weeks have been chock-full of revelations and relaxations. Below is a list of some of those moments.
1) I think Not-blogging/Blogging may really affect my writing. I have been reading lots (preparing for the book chapter and the conference paper), but I have not written a thing in weeks. If writing is dinner, then blogging is like a good, cold martini--gets the mouth and mind ready for the meal.
2) Vermont is everything it's cracked up to be.
3) Ordering a coffee and a sidecar really does make one feel like Auntie Mame.
4) I am looking forward to school starting in the fall--I will bring you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils.
5) The hotdogs at Shea Stadium are better than the hotdogs at Yankee.
6) I seem to have misplaced my DVD of Eddie Izzard's "Dressed to Kill"--which is fucking tragic.
7) When somebody brings me flowers, my day always gets better.
8) Howard Frank Mosher, a guy who writes about the Kingdom (also known as the
northern part of VT--where my daddy is from), is awesome. I just read two of his books, "Marie Blythe" and "Northern Borders," and I cannot recommend them highly enough.
9) I think "When You are Engulfed in Flames" is my new favorite David Sedaris book. As a collection, it is pretty much stellar.
10) Wall-e is lovely. And I think it was the result of a drunken dare. Over sidecars and coffee on some Saturday night, some random said to the Pixar folks, "I'll bet you cannot make an adorable, touching, beautiful movie starring a robot. That doesn't speak. Whose sidekick is a cockroach. Seriously."
11) This is for E!: I've been thinking about your voicemail message the other day, and here's what I think. I think memory works in a reactive manner... Like, the same way that skin does--two functions:
a) Separation: in the process of creating a self, a collection of memories and recollections, memory works to separate things out from other things--creating and keeping the self intact and whole (most of the time). Which also might be why people with memory issues are so at-a-loss in the symbolic order.
b) Protection: the separation of self from other, through specific memories and (sometime) imaginative re-collecting, keeps the dangerous, self-splitting stuff out. Like skin, memory builds up around the soft, tender parts and becomes a kind of barrier--not completely impenetrable but better than being always-already-open--to the vicissitudes of world.
12) The view from the top of the Met is incomparable. You should see it. Call me, and I'll meet you there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
