snow. psych. five hours of sleep. a cup of coffee. an hour of AIDS. another hour of AIDS. another cup of coffee.
talking to the chief of unicef AIDS. talking to the head of yale residential dining. twice. setting in motion a fast of hopefully epic proportions. thinking. a lot.
late to class. one quiz.
a way too quick lunch with awesome people. (a way too quick breakfast with awesome people? not even dinner time yet)
almost late to class. test. (shmeh)
out early. finish the coffee. another hour of AIDS. another quiz.
home? ish. something of a 15 minute nap. (that's the problem with...two cups of coffee).
then that moment when the song you're listening to has got to be the greatest thing in the universe, if nothing else. ben. harper. yessssss. five minutes and seventeen seconds of total peace in the midst of seemingly total chaos.
[snow!]
that was (the first half of) today. i'm tired.
but excited.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Cold
How exactly good it is
to know myself
in the solitude of winter
my body containing its own
warmth, divided from all
by the cold; and to go
separate and sure
among the trees cleanly
divided, thinking of you
perfect too in your solitude,
your life withdrawn into
your own keeping
—to be clear, poised
in perfect self-suspension
toward you, as though frozen.
And having known fully the
goodness of that, it will be
good also to melt.
-Wendell Berry
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
=>The meaningfulness of solitude and peace is huge, I think, these days—especially in the midst of the chaos of life, as it starts back up again. But also the meaningfulness of being able to come outside of our shells of solitude, having discovered what we were to discover, having felt the magnitude of the solitude and the overwhelming splendor of the winter. And, like Berry, to finish that sentence, to let it change us, then start a new one, melting the solitude but sharing our melting with others, and allowing that to be good.
.
to know myself
in the solitude of winter
my body containing its own
warmth, divided from all
by the cold; and to go
separate and sure
among the trees cleanly
divided, thinking of you
perfect too in your solitude,
your life withdrawn into
your own keeping
—to be clear, poised
in perfect self-suspension
toward you, as though frozen.
And having known fully the
goodness of that, it will be
good also to melt.
-Wendell Berry
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
=>The meaningfulness of solitude and peace is huge, I think, these days—especially in the midst of the chaos of life, as it starts back up again. But also the meaningfulness of being able to come outside of our shells of solitude, having discovered what we were to discover, having felt the magnitude of the solitude and the overwhelming splendor of the winter. And, like Berry, to finish that sentence, to let it change us, then start a new one, melting the solitude but sharing our melting with others, and allowing that to be good.
.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Backpack
I just saw Up in the Air, a fantastic movie (in my opinion) where the main character, Ryan Bingham (George Clooney), is a jet-setting, money-making, never-cared-about-a-relationship-in-his-life “Termination Facilitator” (aka he fires people for a living), who spends the majority of his time flying around the country, attempting to accomplish his lifetime goal of 10 million miles. Occasionally he travels around giving a few of those motivational speechy-type business workshops, teaching people how to be more effective at whatever it is they’re doing in that corporate world, and he’s pretty good at it. His typical spiel is, as follows:
I like backpacking. A lot. Actually, I love backpacking. Spent more than a few summers doing so, and go whenever I get a chance (which is, rather unfortunately, not very often). Have occasionally pondered introducing myself by saying “Hi, I’m Andrea. I like to venture out into the wilderness for weeks at a time, occasionally with a dozen or so complete strangers.” Just for kicks, ya know.
There’s something about the experience that keeps me coming back, every time. Some part of it is being in love with that Thoreau-ian ideal of wilderness, that adventure of being in a place where no cars can come within ten miles of, and pondering the epic…gorgeousness of where that is. I love being alone with the trees or the water or the rocks or just a few leaves, wildflowers, or mushrooms.
But one of my favorite things, hands down, is the people. Yeah, I’ve carried a 40-something lb pack. And yeah, it’s usually pretty darn heavy. Hard to make it up mountains. Sometimes you don’t think you’re even gonna make it a few more steps. Probably be a lot easier to just…fly. Or helicopter. Without all that weight. And sometimes it’d be a lot easier to stay quiet on trail, even with ten people around you. To keep to yourself, interact on the outside, but just work your way up the mountain on your own, figuring it out, carrying the weight, do your own thing. Leave the tough stuff, the stuff that would make you connect, relate, understand—just leave that all alone. “Your relationships are the heaviest components of your life.” That’d weigh on you. Feel…heavy. On your shoulders.
But carrying that backpack, feeling the weight of it, it feels good. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it gives you a few bumps and bruises and scars, and sometimes you just want to throw it off your shoulders and bound up the hill. But when you get to camp at night, and your backpack has your tent, and your beanie, and your food, and your jacket, and your coffee mug, and your dry socks, and your sleeping bag, it feels heavy, yes, but it makes home. Sometimes a temporary home, sometimes a more permanent one if you stay a few days, but that stuff, that heavy stuff you keep in the backpack, it all connects you, warms you up, gives you sustenance, keeps you dry when it’s raining. Home.
Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had have been backpacking, and some of the best friends I’ve had have come from those experiences. Wouldn’t give it up for the world.
In the movie, Clooney’s character spends 320-something days a year on the road, no home to speak of, no one to call when’s he’s off travelling, no relationships to weigh him down. Spends more than two thirds of his days on an airplane at some point, flying high. And for the most part, he’s pretty aware he’s living the life. Free as a plane and high up on the mountaintop of his success and life’s work.
Sure, you can fly to the top of the mountain. Take a plane, or a helicopter, even a ski lift it you please. Up in the Air. But me, I’ll take my backpack.
(Wanna join?)
“How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life... you start with the little things. The shelves, the drawers, the knickknacks, then you start adding larger stuff. Clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, your TV... the backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. You go bigger. Your couch, your car, your home... I want you to stuff it all into that backpack. Now I want you to fill it with people. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the office... and then you move into the people you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your brothers, your sisters, your children, your parents and finally your husband, your wife, your boyfriend, your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack, feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake your relationships are the heaviest components in your life. All those negotiations and arguments and secrets, the compromises. The slower we move the faster we die. Make no mistake, moving is living. Some animals were meant to carry each other to live symbiotically over a lifetime. Star crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not swans. We are sharks.”
I like backpacking. A lot. Actually, I love backpacking. Spent more than a few summers doing so, and go whenever I get a chance (which is, rather unfortunately, not very often). Have occasionally pondered introducing myself by saying “Hi, I’m Andrea. I like to venture out into the wilderness for weeks at a time, occasionally with a dozen or so complete strangers.” Just for kicks, ya know.
There’s something about the experience that keeps me coming back, every time. Some part of it is being in love with that Thoreau-ian ideal of wilderness, that adventure of being in a place where no cars can come within ten miles of, and pondering the epic…gorgeousness of where that is. I love being alone with the trees or the water or the rocks or just a few leaves, wildflowers, or mushrooms.
But one of my favorite things, hands down, is the people. Yeah, I’ve carried a 40-something lb pack. And yeah, it’s usually pretty darn heavy. Hard to make it up mountains. Sometimes you don’t think you’re even gonna make it a few more steps. Probably be a lot easier to just…fly. Or helicopter. Without all that weight. And sometimes it’d be a lot easier to stay quiet on trail, even with ten people around you. To keep to yourself, interact on the outside, but just work your way up the mountain on your own, figuring it out, carrying the weight, do your own thing. Leave the tough stuff, the stuff that would make you connect, relate, understand—just leave that all alone. “Your relationships are the heaviest components of your life.” That’d weigh on you. Feel…heavy. On your shoulders.
But carrying that backpack, feeling the weight of it, it feels good. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it gives you a few bumps and bruises and scars, and sometimes you just want to throw it off your shoulders and bound up the hill. But when you get to camp at night, and your backpack has your tent, and your beanie, and your food, and your jacket, and your coffee mug, and your dry socks, and your sleeping bag, it feels heavy, yes, but it makes home. Sometimes a temporary home, sometimes a more permanent one if you stay a few days, but that stuff, that heavy stuff you keep in the backpack, it all connects you, warms you up, gives you sustenance, keeps you dry when it’s raining. Home.
Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had have been backpacking, and some of the best friends I’ve had have come from those experiences. Wouldn’t give it up for the world.
In the movie, Clooney’s character spends 320-something days a year on the road, no home to speak of, no one to call when’s he’s off travelling, no relationships to weigh him down. Spends more than two thirds of his days on an airplane at some point, flying high. And for the most part, he’s pretty aware he’s living the life. Free as a plane and high up on the mountaintop of his success and life’s work.
Sure, you can fly to the top of the mountain. Take a plane, or a helicopter, even a ski lift it you please. Up in the Air. But me, I’ll take my backpack.
(Wanna join?)
Friday, December 25, 2009
...on Albert Einstein (aka The Man)
Okay, I admit it. It's sounds ridiculous. And nerdy. And crazy. Did I mention nerdy??But he's amazing:
"A human being is part of the whole, called by us "universe," limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a prison, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons close to us.
Our task must be to free ourselves from our prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all humanity and the whole of nature in its beauty."
-The Man
He's full of a whole bunch of quotes like this; stumbled upon this one last night and realized how true this is and how much I've been pondering such ideas lately, but also how Einstein is one of those people who knows how to take the formless thoughts in my head that are as of yet undefined very well and state them so...elegantly. The man pretty much defined (or redefined) our universe, and then went on to talk about what that meant for humanity and for this whole World Peace thing, and for religion and God and philosophy. And he was a physicist?? Who does that? Einstein.
What other physicist has pages of quotes on all those quotey websites? Someone once described him in a quote I love by saying the only way he could come close to adequately describing the universe was in the words of poetry. The Man has a way with words. And math. And life, the Universe, and everything.
And on top of all that, he pretty much revolutionized the entire field of physics. And that had repercussions everywhere; on art, on politics, on books, on war.
According to Time, I think he was Man of the Century. To me, he's kinda just The Man.
(And yes, I do have the poster of him sticking his tongue out hanging in my suite. 'Cause it's awesome.)
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
poem?
the clouds and the mist
the reds and the greens and the greys,
greys
the wind, that whispers
and towers
and at the same
time
escapes
and "the spirit of God hovered on the face of the water"
and rippled and was blown by the wind
wind of
change
yes, dollars and cents
but also
the wind
and the rain
faintest drizzle,
thunder-lightning-rumbling-torturous-granite-face-worthy
Storm.
but what of the earth?
those reds and greens
and oranges and purples
and green
and blue blue sky
after the storm
these are Flourescent
not of highlighters and
camera settings
but of
the Exploding Wildflower
waking up to see the sun
and the Sun!
who sees all
illuminates. every. thing.
in its ultimate energy
all-life-giving
this is what we are left with
to light the darkness
on a stand
in the world
on earth
our earth
like Him we
shine
the reds and the greens and the greys,
greys
the wind, that whispers
and towers
and at the same
time
escapes
and "the spirit of God hovered on the face of the water"
and rippled and was blown by the wind
wind of
change
yes, dollars and cents
but also
the wind
and the rain
faintest drizzle,
thunder-lightning-rumbling-torturous-granite-face-worthy
Storm.
but what of the earth?
those reds and greens
and oranges and purples
and green
and blue blue sky
after the storm
these are Flourescent
not of highlighters and
camera settings
but of
the Exploding Wildflower
waking up to see the sun
and the Sun!
who sees all
illuminates. every. thing.
in its ultimate energy
all-life-giving
this is what we are left with
to light the darkness
on a stand
in the world
on earth
our earth
like Him we
shine
Friday, December 11, 2009
Academia, how I love thee (let me count the ways...or rather, the syllables in your words)
(I think I'm actually going to use this article for my final paper, but reading this abstract was quite an experience, to say the least...just check out the epic wordage)
"Abstract:
Finding a pragmatic exit from the semantic labyrinth surrounding ‘ideology' and ‘culture', this article considers the neutral connotations of ‘ideology' as a formative, intrinsically paradoxical, constituent of culture, and argues that the heterogeneous, volatile, and contested nature of all ideologies when viewed through some postmodernist lenses is their hallmark only under the historically exceptional societal conditions of high modernity. It moves on to consider the virtues of several non-reductionist variants of Marxist theory that postulate a subtle dialectic between ideology's coercive and emancipatory functions, aspects that can be seen at work at the generative and experiential core of all human cultures, and not just capitalist ones. These reflections lead to a call for a dialectical, anthropologically informed approach to the interface between culture and ideology. It concludes on a speculative note by suggesting that analogies made between ideological self-replication in cultural processes and the genetic basis of evolution could be more than metaphorical should the infant science of ‘memetics' prove to have an empirically sound base."(Yeah academia)
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
On papers, college, snow, and....SNOW
So I haven't posted in quite a while, and now seems a rather odd time to do so--three in the morning the night before (or rather, morning of) my first final paper due date of college.
But sometimes there's just those moments where everything clicks into place and it's so beautiful you kinda have to record it (even though at the moment that sounds like the cheesiest thing the world could think of).
In college I seem to have become quite an epic procrastinator of sorts, and tonight I was of course in the library finishing my paper at a mildly ungodly hour of the morning (much to the scorn of a few of my more organized suitemates). After a few hours of sketchy work, I finally cracked down, got a lot written, and decided that some sleep and finishing up in the morning would be a fantastic idea, and got ready to head home (aka to my suite) for the night.
I looked across the room, and noticed another of my peers accomplishing about the same task, but at the same time staring out the window, to then quietly get my attention by whispering, "Pssst...it's snowing!!"
The native southern Californian in me just about jumped for joy over to the window to see that, indeed, snow showers had begun, the first real ones (aka ones not chock full of rain and sleet) of my time here.
That little (well, giant) burst of excitement carried me the two-ish blocks back to my suite, reveling the entire time in the epic loneliness and peace that 3 am snowflakes drifting down from the heavens, it seemed, brought to a kind of stressful night.
That was a few minutes ago. Now, as I look out my window onto the New Haven green (yeah, New Haven...!) and the snow begins to cover the grass, it's quite simply...good. Most definitely. I love snow.
First real snow of college, and of a new home? First majorly procrastinated big paper of college? Exact same time? Coincidence? I'm not thinking so. (If it is, I'll take these coincidences any day)
But sometimes there's just those moments where everything clicks into place and it's so beautiful you kinda have to record it (even though at the moment that sounds like the cheesiest thing the world could think of).
In college I seem to have become quite an epic procrastinator of sorts, and tonight I was of course in the library finishing my paper at a mildly ungodly hour of the morning (much to the scorn of a few of my more organized suitemates). After a few hours of sketchy work, I finally cracked down, got a lot written, and decided that some sleep and finishing up in the morning would be a fantastic idea, and got ready to head home (aka to my suite) for the night.
I looked across the room, and noticed another of my peers accomplishing about the same task, but at the same time staring out the window, to then quietly get my attention by whispering, "Pssst...it's snowing!!"
The native southern Californian in me just about jumped for joy over to the window to see that, indeed, snow showers had begun, the first real ones (aka ones not chock full of rain and sleet) of my time here.
That little (well, giant) burst of excitement carried me the two-ish blocks back to my suite, reveling the entire time in the epic loneliness and peace that 3 am snowflakes drifting down from the heavens, it seemed, brought to a kind of stressful night.
That was a few minutes ago. Now, as I look out my window onto the New Haven green (yeah, New Haven...!) and the snow begins to cover the grass, it's quite simply...good. Most definitely. I love snow.
First real snow of college, and of a new home? First majorly procrastinated big paper of college? Exact same time? Coincidence? I'm not thinking so. (If it is, I'll take these coincidences any day)
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