Friday, August 29, 2008
Human Nature
(spoken:)
Express yourself, dont repress yourself (repeat 4 times)
Chorus:
And Im not sorry [Im not sorry]
Its human nature [its human nature]
And Im not sorry [Im not sorry]
Im not your bitch dont hang your shit on me [its human nature]
You wouldnt let me say the words I longed to say
You didnt want to see life through my eyes
[express yourself, dont repress yourself]
You tried to shove me back inside your narrow room
And silence me with bitterness and lies
[express yourself, dont repress yourself]
Did I say something wrong?
Oops, I didnt know I couldnt talk about sex
[i musta been crazy]
Did I stay too long?
Oops, I didnt know I couldnt speak my mind
[what was I thinking]
(chorus)
You punished me for telling you my fantasies
Im breakin all the rules I didnt make
[express yourself, dont repress yourself]
You took my words and made a trap for silly fools
You held me down and tried to make me break
[express yourself, dont repress yourself]
Bridge:
Did I say something true?
Oops, I didnt know I couldnt talk about sex
[i musta been crazy]
Did I have a point of view?
Oops, I didnt know I couldnt talk about you
[what was I thinking]
(chorus)
Express yourself, dont repress yourself (repeat twice)
Express yourself, dont repress yourself (repeat twice)
(bridge)
(chorus)
(chorus, with the following spoken substitutions)
[Im not apologizing]
[would it sound better if I were a man? ]
[youre the one with the problem]
[why dont you just deal with it]
(chorus, with the following spoken substitutions)
[would you like me better if I was? ]
[we all feel the same way]
[i have no regrets]
[just look in the mirror]
(chorus, with the following spoken substitutions)
[i dont have to justify anything]
[Im just like you]
[why should I be? ]
[deal with it]
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
I Walk
I walk.
I just finished walking up and down the hill that is our lovely street when I felt the writer’s block I thought was a preoccupation with the new job sort of ‘pop’. Maybe it was the iPod’s background music grinding out the overture to “Gypsy” that did it for me. Or perhaps that new song “Mercy” by what’s her name, Duffy? It’s so sexy! I just love it. Regardless, I haven’t had much desire to write over the last three weeks and while much of it was because I was exhausted, a portion of it was due to a lack of interest. I wanted to be in the moment, not observing it, blah blah blah. Given enough reign, the rational mind can conjure any number of excuses. I might say it was my muse, come back from her lakeside revelry, who brought me out of my introspective stagnation. She always gets me fired up no matter what part of the country I’m in. It may simply be that I find myself with an audience again, as previously estranged family members and acquaintances troll about my websites, succumbing to their own perverse curiosity. These are people who profess to disdain me and my family, and yet can’t stay away.
That’s alright.
I understand the need and do not begrudge them their voyeurism. After all, what is a blog for if nothing more than to satisfy a need to be noticed?
And so it is mutually satisfying.
Do not mistake this as a desire to make nice. I am pointing out the obvious insofar as you, too, are guilty of this simple pleasure. To chastise me for it now is to throw stones at yourself.
Elizabeth had her very first day of middle school today, and I’m exceedingly relieved to report it went well. Of course, Margaret was on the phone first thing this morning, and she was the first person Liz called when she got in the van. Despite reuniting with students and friends she left two years ago, I think Margaret’s absence was what kept the experience from being a complete success. Time spent apart over the summer hasn’t dimmed the light on their most bosom friendship. Have you seen “Anne of Green Gables” on public television? Let it tell the story of their enduring commitment to friendship, no matter what their age, which by the way is only eleven years.
The job is a blast. It’s what I trained for during my nineteen years at professional services boot camp. I’m challenged, enjoying myself, and making more than decent money. I’m over the initial adjustment, which was supremely but not surprisingly exhausting, and happy for the routine it affords me personally. I tried the stay at home thing, and found that after the cards, and sculpture, the stories and the blogs, I lacked motivation. I’m up early, in full face and hair by 7:00 a.m. and on a train bound for the city by 7:15. I still walk down Market Street with my eyes on the sky and the astounding line of high rises within it. The life and breath of this city is a palpable thing.
I am motivated once again.
You may recall, dear readers, that I committed to a personal revolution a la’ Jane Devin here. Meditation, exercise, only good foods … that was my mantra, felt strongly and with conviction after a visit to Amma in New York filled my self-discipline tanks to the brim. You may have also heard the resounding KABOOM! that was my ample derriere falling right off that wagon as our cross country move and related insanity tossed me limbs akimbo from my self-righteous pedestal. I’m gradually climbing back on the wagon, with Leslie giving me a solid push from the rear. She is a different person, having re-established the tie with the land that she so desperately needs to be happy. It was, after all, her drive and determination that got us here; that and a hefty load of good fortune and timing.
Well, I got home today, completely forgetting Leslie’s exercise plan, and took off all my work clothes. You see, I was supposed to be walking up and down our hill in the beautiful new tennis shoes she got for me mail order because I can’t stand trying shoes on in the stores. Once I was undressed, I didn’t want to do it. But Leslie, my prime motivator, started growling, and, showing an amazing aptitude for good sense, I changed my mind and got down to it.
And so I walk.
I walk and think of friends who once meant everything, no matter what the circumstances. I think of my muse, who took a leap off rational thought, and then decided it was I who pushed her. I think of my brothers, who are endlessly curious.
I just finished walking up and down the hill that is our lovely street when I felt the writer’s block I thought was a preoccupation with the new job sort of ‘pop’. Maybe it was the iPod’s background music grinding out the overture to “Gypsy” that did it for me. Or perhaps that new song “Mercy” by what’s her name, Duffy? It’s so sexy! I just love it. Regardless, I haven’t had much desire to write over the last three weeks and while much of it was because I was exhausted, a portion of it was due to a lack of interest. I wanted to be in the moment, not observing it, blah blah blah. Given enough reign, the rational mind can conjure any number of excuses. I might say it was my muse, come back from her lakeside revelry, who brought me out of my introspective stagnation. She always gets me fired up no matter what part of the country I’m in. It may simply be that I find myself with an audience again, as previously estranged family members and acquaintances troll about my websites, succumbing to their own perverse curiosity. These are people who profess to disdain me and my family, and yet can’t stay away.
That’s alright.
I understand the need and do not begrudge them their voyeurism. After all, what is a blog for if nothing more than to satisfy a need to be noticed?
And so it is mutually satisfying.
Do not mistake this as a desire to make nice. I am pointing out the obvious insofar as you, too, are guilty of this simple pleasure. To chastise me for it now is to throw stones at yourself.
Elizabeth had her very first day of middle school today, and I’m exceedingly relieved to report it went well. Of course, Margaret was on the phone first thing this morning, and she was the first person Liz called when she got in the van. Despite reuniting with students and friends she left two years ago, I think Margaret’s absence was what kept the experience from being a complete success. Time spent apart over the summer hasn’t dimmed the light on their most bosom friendship. Have you seen “Anne of Green Gables” on public television? Let it tell the story of their enduring commitment to friendship, no matter what their age, which by the way is only eleven years.
The job is a blast. It’s what I trained for during my nineteen years at professional services boot camp. I’m challenged, enjoying myself, and making more than decent money. I’m over the initial adjustment, which was supremely but not surprisingly exhausting, and happy for the routine it affords me personally. I tried the stay at home thing, and found that after the cards, and sculpture, the stories and the blogs, I lacked motivation. I’m up early, in full face and hair by 7:00 a.m. and on a train bound for the city by 7:15. I still walk down Market Street with my eyes on the sky and the astounding line of high rises within it. The life and breath of this city is a palpable thing.
I am motivated once again.
You may recall, dear readers, that I committed to a personal revolution a la’ Jane Devin here. Meditation, exercise, only good foods … that was my mantra, felt strongly and with conviction after a visit to Amma in New York filled my self-discipline tanks to the brim. You may have also heard the resounding KABOOM! that was my ample derriere falling right off that wagon as our cross country move and related insanity tossed me limbs akimbo from my self-righteous pedestal. I’m gradually climbing back on the wagon, with Leslie giving me a solid push from the rear. She is a different person, having re-established the tie with the land that she so desperately needs to be happy. It was, after all, her drive and determination that got us here; that and a hefty load of good fortune and timing.
Well, I got home today, completely forgetting Leslie’s exercise plan, and took off all my work clothes. You see, I was supposed to be walking up and down our hill in the beautiful new tennis shoes she got for me mail order because I can’t stand trying shoes on in the stores. Once I was undressed, I didn’t want to do it. But Leslie, my prime motivator, started growling, and, showing an amazing aptitude for good sense, I changed my mind and got down to it.
And so I walk.
I walk and think of friends who once meant everything, no matter what the circumstances. I think of my muse, who took a leap off rational thought, and then decided it was I who pushed her. I think of my brothers, who are endlessly curious.
I think of the past, and ponder what I left behind … the baggage, the bondage, the bitchery.
I walk.
I walk.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
And now for some creative writing ...
It may be somewhat obvious that I'm not posting any where near as often as I was before. This is because I'm working. Working, in a real job, a wonderful job, up at 5 a.m., in full face and hair before 7, and on a train bound for my favorite city by 7:15a.m. It's wonderful, it's purposeful, it's ... well, exhausting. Yes, that too, and I am still adjusting.
So, as I focus on that adjustment, may I offer, for your enjoyment (and my bragging) one of my daughter's essays, a true story. This is ...
The Swan
by Elizabeth (Liz) Faber
(c) October 2007
I groaned as the car pulled over at the beach. Quickly, my Mom got out and walked over to a group of swans. “Over here! There’s got to be at least 10 of them!” she shouted. Despite my aching stomach, I got up and walked into the sand, whining. The sand felt so sloshy and good on my feet that it actually made me feel a bit better.
I trotted over to my mom. There standing before me were at least 10 big, white swans acting like we weren’t there. The beautiful harmony birds were prettier than any other bird you would see. They were so white that if they were any whiter, they might hurt your eyes. As my mom started to walk over to the ocean, the beautiful white birds of peace were not taking notice of me at all. So, I took a step forward. One of them turned its head toward me. I took another. The swan turned around and faced me. Before I could take one more step, the bird started flapping its wings, but it did not take off. I took another step, and suddenly it charged me like a bull! Out of instinct, I boomed to my car, and slammed the door! When I caught my breath and looked back, the bird was just eating out of the little trough on the sand.
The bird of “peace” had tricked me.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Jen's Update
My friend Jen has come through four heavy duty in-hospital chemo treatments recently. Now, she is happy to be able to attend her son's wedding before going back into the hospital, this time for a month, for an autologous stem cell transplantation for non-hodgkin's lymphoma. She just sent me this picture, and I think it perfectly demonstrates her courage in the face of incredibly difficult treatment.
If you read my blog, take a moment for a silent prayer on Jen's behalf. She is so brave, and I am so proud of her! Prayers are good. They really help.
D~
It's hard on the body. It hurts. And it's not a guarantee. But more, Jen will be isolated in the hospital for a month, which she anticipates with trepidation. Still, she's doing it with courage... for life.
If you read my blog, take a moment for a silent prayer on Jen's behalf. She is so brave, and I am so proud of her! Prayers are good. They really help.
D~
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