Walkabout

So, I was making a random slideshow of November pictures, mostly because I was bored, but even more mostly because I love the song, Walkabout by Atlas Sound w/Noah Lennox and wanted to share it. It's so awesome! and besides, it's called Walkabout, which is the term for the Aboriginal tradition of tracing their ancestors' songlines, a rite of passage in the wilderness, which I think is pretty freakin' cool. I started thinking about the morning Skype conversation I had with my sister about the possibility of her own sort of walkabout, which I think is pretty freakin' cool. And I realized as I was looking at these snapshots of my life in November, of what I had seen and done, of some of the people and things whose paths I had crossed, that I'm in the midst of my own sort of walkabout. I do a lot of walking about these days, drifting through this big, beautiful city, over the bridge, through the gardens, now back home through the alleyways, all the while soaking up my surroundings, wandering keen-eyed and small, watching the world, feeling a part of it all.

"Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe." -Anatole France

When I wander, I don't feel lost at all, even when I realize I have no idea where I am. Somehow, my meanderings are leading me home. I think man tries so hard to make a place in this world, a concrete, tangible, safe place to shield ourselves from the unknown, and why wouldn't we? This universe is so big and mysterious and we are these tiny little ants. We want to be able to say with confidence and specificity, this is my place and my purpose, to nail down our existence: this is who I am, this is what I do, this is where I live, so as to make sense of it all. But the truth is you are as much of a mystery as this universe, small as you are, no matter who or what you say you are. To wander about someplace unknown, to wonder about something unknown then, is to admit your own smallness and to say to the universe, I want to discover you. And in discovering something beyond yourself, you end up realizing something within yourself, which I think is pretty freakin' cool. I'm not sure if any of that makes any sense, but, anyway, what I really want to say is, I'm thankful that I'm so small and clueless. I'm thankful that, if I'm lucky, there is still much wandering and wondering left for me to do.

Looking, Walking, Being

by Denise Levertov

"The world is not something to look at,

it is something to be in." -Mark Rudman

I look and look.

Looking's a way of being: one becomes,

sometimes, a pair of eyes walking.

Walking wherever looking takes one.

The eyes

dig and burrow into the world.

They touch

fanfare, howl, madrigal, clamor.

World and the past of it,

not only

visible present, solid and shadow

that looks at one looking.

And language? Rhythms

of echo and interruption?

That's

a way of breathing.

breathing to sustain

looking,

walking and looking,

through the world,

in it.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Stamp it on your heart

I hope you're having the kind of day

which causes you to think

this is true:

-quote by Allen Ginsberg

I hope that even if

you aren't having that kind of day

you still believe

it is true.

Thanksgiving 2009

"Find the good and praise it."

-Alex Haley

Mine and Jason's first Thanksgiving as a married couple was, well, unconventional. No family, no turkey or tofurky, no dogs begging for scraps under the table, no table, no crisp fall weather, half a world away from home in a country that (naturally) does not celebrate Thanksgiving. And yet, it was a day full of blessings. The sun was shining and we were together and happy. And the food! Oh, the food. We went a little carb crazy. Jason and I cooked up some of our favorite foods: mashed potatoes, macaroni & cheese, corn, "sausage" dressing, and carrot cupcakes with cream cheese frosting to share with our friend, Dave. The seating arrangements? Two camping chairs and an exercise ball out on the deck. Jason's face in the big picture above pretty much sums it up. We were deliriously full of gratitude and fatitude. After Dave left to roll himself home, Jason and I attempted to watch Home Alone, but a food -induced coma ensued... I made it to my favorite line: "Look what you did, you little jerk." and I was out, my belly and heart perfectly plump. I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving, too!

Quote by Miranda July

Three Random Videos to Make You Smile

These are all wildly popular videos, especially the first and the third, so you may have already seen them. Jason and I just discovered them recently and thought they were worth sharing on the off chance you haven't already seen them. Just like each of you, they're all AWESOME in their own way. Hope they brighten your day!

I couldn't embed this one, so you'll have to follow the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2BgjH_CtIA

Confessions of a Pogonophile & The Birth of Beard Man or Why Someone Needs to Give Me a Freakin' Job!

You know it's time to get a life (maybe a job? perhaps a friend?) when the idea of charting the growth of your husband's beard sounds like something really fun to do.

It all started back in September when I was debating whether or not to cut my hair. It was getting pretty nappy and I was thinking of going much shorter. I asked Jason his opinion and got the usual response:

"I don't know. Do whatever you want. I think you look beautiful no matter what you do with your hair."

"Yeah, but what do you really think?"

"It really doesn't matter what I think."

"Uhhh, yeah it does. I'm asking you aren't I?"

After several more minutes of pressing and pleading on my part for a freakin' opinion, I finally got it:

"Okay, if you really want to know, I think you look better with long hair."

Wrong answer. He was supposed to say he thought I should cut it short since that's the decision I was leaning towards. I just needed a little encouragement. Why couldn't he see that? It was so obvious!

I sigh a long sigh. "What is it with guys and long hair? Could you be any more shallow?"

Jason, sensing my annoyance, tries to recover with, "No, I just think long hair suits your personality better."

"Whatever."

The truth is I can't say a thing because the way many men feel about women with long luxurious locks is the way I feel about men with big beautiful beards. I mean, can you possibly imagine anything sexier than a beautiful bearded mountain man chopping firewood in a flannel shirt? Well, can you? I know I can't. So, somehow, out of our own shallowness and need to control each other, we came upon an agreement, a sacred pact: For one year, I solemnly swear not to cut my stringy strands and Jason promises friendship to the fruits of his facial follicles. So while I begin my journey towards this:

Do you think my hair will get this long in a year?

Jason strives to become this:

Isn't he cute?

(I can't remember where I found this picture. Sorry Beard Man creator.)

Would you like to know some interesting facts about beards brought to you by Wikipedia? Okay!

• From the dashing Donegal (think Abe Lincoln) to the gorgeous Garibaldi (think Giuseppe) there are many different types and styles of beard. My personal favorite? The neck beard, as sported by the sexy Thoreau below:
• Facial hair growth is stimulated by dihydrotestosterone, which ironically, also promotes balding.
• Pogonophobia is the fear of beards.
• The ancient Greeks, who commonly curled their beards with tongs, saw beards as a sign of virility.
• In ancient India, a long beard was a sign of wisdom. The punishment for adultery? Public beard chopping.

Want to see a photographic presentation of Jason's transformation into Beard Man? Okay!

But still a far cry from RED BEARD:

This guy would scare the begeezus out of a pogonophobic.

I think he couldn't be any sexier.

(Unless he had an axe and a flannel shirt.)

For all you other beardos out there who just can't get enough of manly hairy faces:

http://beardcoach.com/

http://www.beards.org/

http://www.worldbeardchampionships.com

A poem I love.

Hymn by A. R. Ammons

I know if I find you I will have to leave the earth

and go on out

over the sea marshes and the brant in bays

and over the hills of tall hickory

and over the crater lakes and canyons

and on up through the spheres of diminishing air

past the blackset noctilucent clouds

where one wants to stop and look

way past all the light diffusions and bombardments

up farther than the loss of sight

into the unseasonal undifferentiated empty stark

And I know if I find you I will have to stay with the earth

inspecting with thin tools and ground eyes

trusting the microvilli sporangia and simplest

coelenterates

and praying for a nerve cell

with all the soul of my chemical reactions

and going right on down where the eye sees only traces

You are everywhere partial and entire

You are on the inside of everything and on the outside

I walk down the path down the hill where the sweetgum

has begun to ooze spring sap at the cut

and I see how the bark cracks and winds like no other bark

chasmal to my ant-soul running up and down

and if I find you I must go out deep into your

far resolutions

and if I find you I must stay here with the separate leaves

Happy Anniversary Mom & Pops!

Today is my parent's 32nd anniversary.

At least, it is in Australia.

And I hope I'm right about the 32. ??

Hey, Mom & Dad,

Remember that year I felt certain that you had been married 25 years, and then you said,

in your I'm trying to be patient, but you're an idiot voice,

"Tracy. How old are you?"

"Duhh, 26," I replied, annoyed you had to ask.

A couple of minutes go by...

(keep in mind, readers, I'm not a bastard child, nor is my older sister)

"Ohhhhhh!"

(True story.)

Jason and I looked on the internet to see what the gift for Anniversary #32 is: Conveyance.

"Oh, that's nice, you convey something to the other, as in you communicate something, like about how much meaning and beauty your partner has given to your life. That's so swee..."

"It means a car," my thought is interrupted by Jason's insistence on living in the real world. "Or a boat, or a motorcycle...some form of transportation."

"Oh," I said. "Seriously?"

Yeah, I don't know if that was just some kind of yuppy site that was I was looking at or if that's the real deal. I mean, for number 100 they said a 10K diamond is in order. At first I was like, WHAT? 10K DIAMOND? ABSURD! Look, I'm not a fan of diamonds. I'm just not that in to sparkly things, especially sparkly things that are far too often ill-gotten. I don't know much about diamonds, but I know enough to know that 10K's no pebble. But then I actually thought about the practical implications, the reality of two people being married for 100 years. Has that even ever happened? If so, if such a thing doesn't warrant a 10K diamond, than what does? Even if it does cost a little blood, sweat and tears... nay! even better that it cost a little blood sweat and tears. It is actually an incredibly appropriate gift if you think about it. So, maybe a car is an appropriate gift for 32 years of marriage? I considered it. I decided it is in fact. The more I thought about the years of commitment, love, friendship and trust my parents have given each other, the more I thought, "Screw conveying gratitude and emotion! Dadgummit. They deserve a car." I knew that most likely neither of my parents would be giving the other a car. So that's when I took matters in to my own hands, marched myself down to Crown Casino and won them this:

(my parents' NEW CAR!)

Crown is a fancy place. Don't believe me? Just look at these fancy-shmancy lights:

(fancy schmancy lights)

And it should be, I mean, gambling is a classy thing. Am I wrong? Well, if anybody knows her way around a fanciful establishment, it's me. For some strange reason, it makes some people uncomfortable. Not me! Give me frou frou and watch me flourish like crime in Bogota, Columbia. I'm not comfortable at dinner unless I have at least three different kinds of forks in front of me. (And that's for a casual dinner.) All that is to say that I was right in my element. I quickly and easily sweet talked my way into a high stakes poker game in the VIP room, where I proceeded to win my parents a sweet-ass convertible for their anniversary and make grown men cry. No big deal. Everybody up there suspects I'm some sort of Rain Man. Anyway, I'm having it shipped to you, Mom & Dad. You'll just need to have the steering wheel and what-not switched over and then she'll be good to go!

Noooo. Almost none of that was true.

BUT! I did make you this pretty flower collage: