March 2010
1 post
"And Who Are You?"
In Italy, the first question you will get asked at a party is, “How old are you?” It’s not considered a rude question at all. It’s not equivalent to asking a woman’s dress size, how much money is in your bank account, or if you get regular plastic surgery. In fact, the question gets asked with such a bright-eyed sincerity of interest that you can’t help but...
February 2010
3 posts
Ode to Youth
I remember being a student. Although, I think I remember it more fondly now than it actually was then.
Still.
I remember sitting in coffee shops with my nose two inches away from an open library book with my notepad next to me as I furiously took notes. Or, sitting with classmates around a large wooden table with our coffees in front of us as we attempted to study. Usually my classmates were...
Ring! Ring! Your Future is Calling
I’ve been afraid of the phone before. Refusing to answer it. Putting it on mute so I won’t be tempted. Leaving it at home so that if someone does call, I’ll know in my own sweet time.
My phone will be the means of finding out information that I’m not exactly sure I want right now.
Having left my job, I jumped right in to the job market and interviewed for another job...
To Have or To Be, That Is My Question
I used to dream in Italian. Sadly, I wasn’t fluent in my dreams either. I spent my dream time trying to conjugate verbs. More specifically, I’d go over and over the verbs to be (essere) and to have (avere).
“Ho, Hai, Ha, Abbiamo, Avete, Hanno.” And with equal importance, I’d repeat, “Sono, Sei, รจ, Siamo, Siete, Sono.”
Over and over again so that...
January 2010
8 posts
A Languid, Drifting Thing? No Thanks.
Someone asked me this question once, “What would you do if you won the lottery and never had to worry about money again?” It was followed by, “There. Whatever your answer is, that’s what you should be doing.”
But I’m not completely sure that question is all-knowing in the end. I think it gives a hint toward the activity I might want to pursue, but I think the...
...It's What Happens While You're Busy Making...
Courtesy of the Library of Congress
I used to be able to sit in coffee shops all the time and write and write and write and write. The sounds of the espresso machine hissing away was nothing more than white noise. Little kids running around screaming “bla ba ba bla!” had no impact on me. Conversations at the next table just floated into one ear, hung around for a bit, and then...
Day 11: And Now for Something Completely Different
I just got off the phone with my friend Rachel.
She thinks I should either become a personal trainer.
Or a cake decorator.
I’m pretty sure she was serious.
Day 9: It's Probably Just Crazy Talk
Shortly after I stopped teaching English, I ended up temping at the Department of Printing for Washington state. The building was a large warehouse-like box with one wall of windows, and banks and banks of florescent lights. The space was divided into thirds: the first third housed the offices along the windows, reserved for the few managers and the one director of the department; the next third...
Day 6: Divine Time
In the last couple of days, two people have asked, “What gives me satisfaction in my work?”
It seemed serendipitous because neither of them know the other. Apparently, I’m supposed to be thinking about the answer to that question. Saying, “Paycheck” seems a little like saying “Fine” when someone asks you how you are. It’s expected. It’s...
Day 4: The Glory of White Space
Most people don’t know me as a little academic, sitting encased in my overstuffed chair with a non-fiction tome in one hand, pencil in the other, making notes in the margins and *thinking* about things, head lolling sleepily off to one side. Writing papers about sacred space, about cultural landscapes, about atomic bombs and the landscapes we save and the ones we destroy. Frankly, I...
Day 2: The Happiest Place on Earth
I’ve heard that Disneyland has its dark side. That there are tunnels under the Happiest Place on Earth where the characters go to take breaks away from the public eye. I like the idea of Minnie Mouse surrounded by clouds of cigarette smoke, jawing it up with a Brooklyn accent as she tells about her latest run-in with Goofy, who frankly drives her crazy. I like imagining Winnie the Pooh...
Day One: Spreading Petals in My Wake
“So, you’re going to work today?” I asked Paul.
“You. I’ll only put up with this for so long.”
“Ha!”
“I’m going to work times two,” he said, referring to his regular job and then his love job: his part-time gig at REI selling backpacks to the gearheads.
Me? I’m going to get a pedicure with my sister. Poke around the...
September 2009
1 post
“People are capable, at any time of their lives, of doing what they dream of.”
– Unknown