To Indulge

Finally got to go to that craft show I've been meaning to attend for a couple of years. It's Got Craft? and it happens twice a year, for the first Sundays of May and December. I bought cards and all sorts of pins and ponytails and these delicious macaroons. Then I went to the bookstore nearby and got a couple of poetry books. One was by Adrienne Rich. I started reading it on the ride back. I like one that's called "Amends."

Then I bought a pair of black high heels to wear on Friday for our oath-taking. It's much higher than any I'm used to. (And seeing as I never wear heels...) But it's actually pretty comfortable. I have got to practice walking in it...

Sisters

I wanted to write a poem for my sister, but all I could think of was a safety net. I'm a little braver without her around, but at the same time, I think I fly a little higher when she's there.

We're lucky enough to be able to count on each other. Growing up together, one does not automatically assume we'll become friends for life. So many families are brittle, easy to shatter. I'd like to think we're stronger than that, even though I'm aware of the currents of tension underneath. We're still learning how to be a family. And there are things I'm still not comfortable sharing with everyone.

My sister is a little bit of my hero. She's not perfect, but she has this hidden strength--hidden from herself sometimes--like a steel spine. I'd love to see her achieve her dreams. She's still growing up, you know. We all are. And she should know that I'm rooting for her, all the way to the skies, and beyond.

Happy Birthday, Mel.

Lightsinthenight

Joanne Arnott

Moving right along from thoughts

of orca feeding down the food chain

to aboriginal dancers moving the crowd

with superman & zorba

to the mass graves of Canada

out of the local news, finally

gone international

i was standing in the back field

watching the green folds of light

draped across the sky, thinking

of the hems of the robes of

the priests and the nuns

wondering about divinity

universe of mystery

sometimes the questions flock

far beyond the reaches of our ability

to make answers

sometimes just sharing the questions

sometimes just making the reach

not alone this time, but

in company

sometimes the past and present fold

and i am lost between

a cold back field gazing through starlight

and a small book in a small shop

somewhere

i have never been

sometimes the headlines arrive

leaving skid marks across the heart

-- p. 20, CV2: The Keystone of Canadian Poetry Turns 35, vol. 33 issue no. 2, Fall 2010

Poetry Overdrive

I wasn't worried about writing 30 poems in 30 days, but maybe I should be. I'm not that good a poet, honestly. And I keep churning out these lines that sink in the water. I am going to have to try this again and again, aren't I? Except that there is little enough (ideas, images) in my reservoir. I clearly require some refilling.

There were gloomy clouds and gloomy thoughts today. I know I should take it easier at work, if only so I won't burn out (my boss seemed worried about it, too.) But it's difficult to step back from doing this much. Even more so when my other boss seems content to pass the work down again and again. I feel a little disillusioned these days, and yes, my edges are getting singed.

Can you write poetry without being happy? Of course. Some poems emerge from grief, from the darkest of places. But I have no legitimate grief, just small, regular burdens. I'm getting calluses on my shoulders from bearing them. (Exaggerations aside, my hands are a mess. I have bruises that I'm not sure how I got. My eyes are shot. And somehow I can't manage to call in sick out of fear that I will inconvenience everyone. My work ethic's really good, but not exactly healthy either.)

I clearly will not last much longer. (And that's what I said months ago and I'm still here.) Gripes and aches and pains and mumbles. And we soldier on.

overheard at tnt foodcourt:

woman: Oh, there's another one. (Motioning to a white man.)

woman: In Richmond it's worse. You can go for hours without seeing a non-Asian person.

I just tilted my head and wondered if she felt threatened.

I feel overburdened by the riches that is my book collection.

I read a bit of this and a chunk of that.

I'm stalled by indifference, incomprehension, embarrassment, fear, distraction, laziness, and many other reasons.

On the plus side, I wanted to read new authors, and I have. So far, two new names have joined my list of favorite authors: Steven Gould and Laurie J. Marks.

I want to be able to concentrate on one thing at a time. I want to be gripped by a book, moved and swept away as if I were lashed to the prow of a storm-drenched ship.

I also want to start reading my poetry and non-fiction books, so I feel like I'm learning something. (Of the craft, of the world.)

So many wants, so little time.

Let's get into this life plan of mine: strength, productivity, ethical choices and habits, creativity and passion. Also, enduring skills, feminism, adventuring spirit, poet, teacher, artist, archivist.

No more waiting. I'm twenty-eight. The sand's slipping away.

Assignments: (On paper)

1. List the skills you want to have. And their purpose. List places and ways to earn them.

2. List small ways and big ways to live ethically and walk (run, dance, leap) towards my goals.

3. List dream projects to try.

4. List equipment you need to get and other things to save up for. (Like traveling.)

5. Look at the entirety of assignment and compile into a visual hodgepodge to put up on wall as daily reminder. (Collage? Mindmap? Checklist?)

Get to it, F.

My book-love is becoming a liability.

But I can't help it! Found Primo Levi's "The Periodic Table" at the thrift shop yesterday, along with a book of poems by William Carlos Williams, a copy of Sherlock Holmes stories with illustrations, a book by Bujold and a sci fi by Steven Barnes, and a book by Ron Koertge. It was satisfying, even though I paid almost two hundred dollars because my dad got a lot of winter jackets. That's like my yearly clothing budget already.

Gone Loco

Couldn't stop typing last night/this morning.

I listed all the things I was mad at. And wrote details on a recurring fantasy. And pretty much tried to psychoanalyze myself.

My conclusions: writing's it for me; just need to kick my own unpert ass into gear. I need to make a difference in the world. And well, some things are worth saying out loud: I no longer believe in god. I may not be able to say it to my parents and relatives. But I can claim it here on my blog. I used to believe, because I'm very good at self-delusion. But it's time to lay the fantasies down and start living for real.

Books I have bought more than once:

I have a lot, but some memorable ones: I bought a second copy of Pull of the Moon by Elizabeth Berg and gave it to a friend's mom for her 50th birthday. I'm still replacing all books written by Tamora Pierce that I left behind when we migrated, as well as several by Terry Pratchett, Barbara Kingsolver, and Diane Duane.

I honestly don't remember how many copies I have ever bought of Good Omens by Gaiman and Pratchett, as well as By the Sword by Mercedes Lackey and the short story collection Book of Enchantments by Patricia Wrede. I just keep losing them... (Also replacing Wrede's Enchanted Forest Chronicles.)

I bought Quirkyalone by Sasha Cagen and someone liked it so much so I gave it away. I have since bought another copy. I also bought this collection of poems again after giving my old copy to a friend: The Wesleyan Tradition: Four Decades of American Poetry ed. by Michael Collier.

And last year I broke down and bought a copy of The Urge to Jump by Trisha Ashley, which I lost and is out of print, so I was getting desperate. (At the top of my ultra-favorites list, along with doubly-bought Tam Lin by Pamela Dean and Surviving the Applewhites by Stephanie Tolan, and yet-to-be-reboughtConfess-O-Rama by Ron Koertge. Which is next.)

End of Year Annual Report 2011

Didn't quite make it to 50 books. (Darn it.) Got to 49 only because of the six volumes of manga I read. New authors I discovered whose writing I loved: Guy Gavriel Kay, Sarah Monette, and Lois Bujold McMaster. Best non-fiction book: Poetry in Person: Twenty-five Years of Conversation with America's Poets ed. by Alexander Neubauer.

I watched 17 movies. My top three are all Japanese: Solanin, Instant Numa and Detroit Metal City. The first is based on the manga and is heartbreaking. The second is just crazy crazy, and the third is super funny in spite of the music. Best documentary: Touch the Sound: A Sound Journey with Evelyn Glennie directed by Thomas Riedelsheimer.

A lot of new dramas I got into this year. My favorite Japanese drama is Keizoku Spec 2. My favorite Korean drama is Secret Garden. American ones: Chuck, Psych and (BBC) Sherlock. I also got into a bit of White Collar and Fringe (just the last couple of seasons).

In terms of fanfic, the fandoms I spent most time on: Stargate Atlantis, BBC Sherlock, X-Men First Class, Hawaii Five-O, and Inception.

New band I started listening to: Airborne Toxic Event. Top three songs for the year are all by the same band (Asian Kung Fu Generation); they are "Solanin," "Mustang," and "All Right Pt. 2." New websites: 8tracks.com and radiolab.org. (Plus all those food/art/style blogs such as: shewhoeats, waterhalo, hipstermusings, etc.) Favorite new illustrator: Yelena Bryksenkova.

I bought a new laptop, and got my first free pair of glasses at work. I made my first rubber stamp: a mushroom. I sponsored a child in India. Got into podcasts. Attended one wedding (Janrose) and missed another (Nesmarie).

And the top 5 life changing events this year: I got certified with a raise after Frank left for Toronto; I got heartburn which enforced a diet and started losing weight; I started a poetry log, sporadically but regularly updated; I joined CYWA on FB and might be published in 2 places?; and I took the citizenship exam!

P.S.
I spent the first day of the year hunting down the first sunrise.

I spent the last day of the year browsing through stalls at the Vancouver Flea Market. I bought old pictures, postcards and stamps. And then I went to my favorite store Regional Assembly of Text and bought two rolls of washi tape, 3 postcards, and a five year memory book. I also bought a set of Pantone postcards, just because I love colors.

I also made two small notebooks using my new paper trimmer, my beloved long-arm stapler, long bond and an old cardboard I got from an old job. I showed them gleefully to my little sisters, and then they both asked for one. Oops.

Yesterday I made the poetry zine, one for my colleague and the other for my sister. I decorated them with stamps. I'm going to make more and more and more...