the stars were out in number

since michael jackson's death there has been a shift, the world felt itself pause for a moment in the knowledge he is gone.  more polarizing than elvis, though he has twice the genius.  i hadn't read or seen anything that i identified with, until i read this:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cynthia-boaz/why-michael-jacksons-deat_b_227434.html

...he's the man we never got to know, because everyone thought they had him pegged already.

who's bad is a michael jackson cover band that plays at every wilmington downtown sundown, a free show on the river.  i had gone the last three years and it was packed like i had never seen it before, like i knew it would be.  it was already scheduled, michael just happened to die a couple weeks before.  his death has introduced his music to a new generation.  

how can it be that often you have to die to become great?

i wove my way through the crowd and witnessed it from all different angles and with all sorts of people.  most people weren't happy about my crossings, but many understood, and some were actually pleased.

all this after a yoga & chocolate session with my friends errrn & carol.  the night felt like, bliss.  everything is better after yoga and this chocolate was the best kind: guilt-free.  

in celebration of the inner goddess calories don't matter, and it doesn't hurt the chocolate was vegan.  (i tried a cocoa bean and i'm not a fan, but i can appreciate how it gives birth to chocolate)

i hope for many more lovely nights

while in the meantime

i dance everyday

spins

sins of the poet

oh little bloggy blog, how i have ignored you.  life has been blessedly busy and lately i have been painting to unwind instead of writing.  mea culpa.

so what curious misadventures have i experienced of late?

a new direction with school: i've gone back to university to become an english teacher.  if i'm accepted into the program i've applied to then i will be moving towards a masters degree.  i bike to my summer class, and hide inside the cool for my online class.  it is a lot of overlapping content, but from different perspectives.  

it's good for my brain.

jessabean, mi hermana, is currently in costa rica after a trip to panama.  i'm glad to see her traveling spirit alive and well.  some pictures of her journey are on my friend ickes' blog: radical sabadicals: the adventures of traveling dirtbags.  http://mobileliving2.blogspot.com/2009/06/panama.html

my sister is dearest to me of all things.

the beach has been drawing me in, reminding me of the beauty of life and nature when i swim the the ocean's currents.  i have been writing a poem about it, and am working on a painting of a sunset over the ocean.  different beaches loll me in with their various personalities.  

but in each piece of ocean i feel the same freedom in the waves.  the feeling of laying on my back, supported by the ocean, slipping over the humps of waves is pure natural bliss.  the only thing possibly better is riding the waves on a reliable board, with the weight of the ocean behind you.

special thanks to 'carol' and the reverend cav for allowing me to escape to their beach.

and to you lovely readers, thank you for checking back.  i shan't leaving you hanging so again.  

& happy day of exploding stars

spinsley

The heart has no brains

I was gchatting with Belltower, a friend I have only seen in person twice, and the virtual conversation came to his romantic woes.  I have given my heart to a girl who lives far away, he lamentedly typed.  I told him the heart has no brains without immediately realizing its truth.  Maybe this is the theme of my (and millions others') romantic lives.  He told me to use it somewhere.  Mission accomplished.

Springtime is a funny time for the heart; it dusts of its winter icicles and frolicks with the warmth from the sun.  You get more hollers from passing cars, like you catch more teenagers making out in darkened corners: the sudden friskiness brought on by shrinking hemlines and the warm-kissed air.  It's the classic season of twitterpation, romantic feelings flinging in many or one direction, and it's lively for not only humans but animals too.  Everyone wants to get freaky in spring.  In the animal kingdom there usually isn't much complication.  Unfortunately, this is not true in the human existence.  We over-think our urges.  It can get so complicated, the heart with no brain and the brain trying to speak for the heart, which it does not understand well but, you know, it can speak a few words here and there and they can get by in simple conversation.

How many odes have been written to spring, to love.  There will never be enough.  It can inspire poetry like I hope the spinning Earth rains days of joy onto your gorgeous face.  (Thank you, Jude).  Part of me loves the awakening of spring, the recklessness of feeling and fleeting moments of romance.  The heart willy nilly does what it wants to do.  The brain too often suppresses this in attempt to protect the heart, from what the brain is scared of.  It remembers heartbreak, it is the center of fear, the brain is full of reasons why to hold back feeling.  But why all the secrecy?  I don't understand it because I have little filter.  I often let my heart rule and people get startled by its openness.  My heart struggles to remain innocent.

The Yeah Yeah Yeahs sing, 

there is no 

modern romance.

And a part of me believes it's true.  But the rest of me closes its eyes and believes there can be.

With Love & Happiness,

SpinsCycle

before and after: grammar post-eec

even though i am in love with language, i do not always adhere to the laws of grammar.  like the life of christ was enough to change our western timeline, separating b.c. from a.d. ...

we are now living in a post- e.e. cummings world.

the rules have been bent unforgettably.  the direction of poetry has been altered forever.

i took one grammar course in college.  the professor of the class's greatest joy was that he was once in a jeopardy! question.  he once said something that stuck with me more than any of the 5,000 sentence trees we did.  he said the point of language was to communicate, and if the other person knows what you mean: what you're really trying to say, then you were successful in communication.  whether or not you say it "in correct grammar."

however you will rarely see me abuse this privilege of grammatical freedom.  i just live in a post-eec world.

know what i sayin'?

spinsley

I Vow to Never Leave You at HeartBreak Hotel

In honor of a wedding I will be attending today, I am posting my friend Ben's Vegas wedding video.  If you ever need a cheer up, this video is Internet Prozac.  

I love the spontaneous dance party, and the vows are classic.  Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb7Q_tF15DM&fmt=18

no sleep for the sort of weary

oh i cannot sleep, my brain feels awake.  it is 12:30 a.m., and i'm tired, but if i lay in my bed i'll just toss and turn so i'll wait until my eyelids are drooping and hope for a nice slip into sleep.  

i tried watching kung faux vol.3 to no avail, and i was quite looking forward to watching it.  classic fung foo overlapped with gangsta speak.  i got it off a dude i know who is into ninjas too: a terrible burned copy that neither my vcr/dvd player nor my laptop computer would play.  both spit it out.  perhaps they have been spoiled by the real thing.  they just can't go back.

so tonight i sit in pajamas, listening to a new cd and flipping through flipping through my new-to-me book: TRIBUTE TO RELIGION.  [filled with pages of photos of the grand architectural works of man inspired by god(s).].  

are you a curious person like me?  

do you want to know what i'm listening to?  because i'll tell you, it's fucking great.  it's my first listen to a cd called since we last spoke by rjd2.  my friend auddy left it at my place after we attempted to go to a love language show over the weekend.  we missed the show because we got caught up in talking, catching up with her felt so real.  we understand each other, it's so special when you just get someone.  and happy ending alert i saw the band later that night, and they rocked it.

do you want to know more about the book?  i got it downtown, at a used book store that changed hands and reinvented itself.  it is no longer the musty old chaotic bookery, unvacuumed and slumming, owned by a very flirtacious old man who would give change from his wallet.  it is now bright and organized and monitored by hanging mirrors to a thousand unseen big brothers or perhaps just passers by.  while we stood in line a man in front of us spoke in the most beautiful accent.  a new friend leaned over, put her hand to her mouth, and low-spoke-whispered, i don't care what he says i just want him to keep talking.  i nodded slowly, not at all minding the conversation holding up the distracted book keeper.silently tapping.with his. beat.  we just listened to the rhythm and the soft twang of his words- swooning inside the room of the [less] dusty shelves and shelves of books.  

i left with evidence of what humans can do with inspiration.  the book notes 8 world religious architectures, all reaching up towards the heavens, trying to connect with a powerful deity: creators and sustainers, some blood-thirsty and angry, some all too human.  our ancestors tried to stretch as far up as they could like an outstretched arm, asking god to be near.  cathedral of san marco, venice.  notre dame, paris.  old-new synagogue, prague.  melk monastery, austria.  cologne cathedral, west germany.  hagia sophia, istanbul.  cuzco cathedral, peru.  angkor wat, cambodia.  i was surprised to see that i had been to the first three on this list.  looking at the pictures is so different from being there.  to stand beside it and feel the full scale of it all is irreplaceable.  i immediately decide i'm going to see as many places in this book as possible.  my next is angkor wat, i've been wanting to see this place for some time, and it is in the region of the world i want to visit next: the far east.

these talks of dreams are awakening my senses, and now i feel more awake than before.  the album has played a second time through.  

i remember how forty eight hours ago i was on a boat, dancing with friends, gliding on smooth water, dreaming of summer, hip hop hopping through our hips.  this was highlight two of the weekend, made better by the disorder of the surrounding night.  the energy was strange, a goodbye party and a birthday party, colliding emotions coming out sideways.  i was so glad for the simplicity of the moment, smiles, music, loud talking against the dark night, our boat the only thing cutting the stillness of the water, deep and dark, and still on the surface.

tonight it was back to business fine combing the obituary.  tomorrow i am meeting with a friend of superfred's to plan "his celebration of life."  this weekend: a wedding, next week: a funeral.  a scale equal on both sides.

rubber soul has been playing in my background, and my eyes finally tire.  they must break from the screen for

glorious sleep is near.

goodnight, bear

spinsley

Night o TeleVision

giggles is what i'm after. some good old fashioned brainwashing.

i had a bad date tonight.  one of the worst i've been on, the boy literally gave me a panic attack.  i had him take me home.  the pseudo-end of this story is i feel better alone.

so i took comfort in the office.  solece in 30 rock.  many laughs were expelled from me.  

then i watched jay leno.  i don't normally watch jay leno, and tonight he reminded me why.  to be honest i was surprised he didn't whip out his member right there and stroke it for the camera.  he hates women if they aren't sexualized.  it's evident by guests like the rock and some other dude.  (he did have a sultry young woman sing the blues for his musical guest, which goes with the generic  profile).  his jokes reflect how much of a man's man he is.  which is fine for him, but i don't relate.  bad women drivers, retarded 911 calls & police cam videos, a comic making fun of fat people on airplanes, blah blah blah.  it isn't that relevant, and it isn't charming.  i am a stranger to it.

and then jimmy fallon came on.  and get this: THE ROOTS is his band.  THE ROOTS: fucking score, jimmy fallon!  [i want to go on and on about the fact he features THE ROOTS on his show].  every one of his shows THE ROOTS will be jamming their little hearts out and i just have to say god bless you jimmy fallon and welcome to the charmed life.  [okay, for your: the beloved reader's sake, i'll move on].  fallon had some great guests and his little videos are funny and have great potential to the strongest part of his show.  his monologue was a little lame and  if that's reflective of his standard i would cut that traditional element of the show.  hear me, jimmy fallon?     hahahaha [jimmy fallon: yeah spins right on it].  

i will watch this show again if only to see THE ROOTS jam out.

i normally like watching movies in my bored down time.  but when i'm upset, i watch television, it calms me down like nothing else can.  when i'm sick, i watch romantic comedies.  (i am not proud of this).  we americans love our color boxes.

give me conan o'brien!  give me jon stewart!  give me stephen colbert!, and i shall be happy.

oh man, carson daly is coming on, i probably shouldn't waste any more time.  i have a super nintendo system to set up.  it's mine from third grade.  i had lost the power chord and a friend after finding this out, whipped out his magic iphone and went to ebay land proclaiming soonafter done! and a week later he's handing it to me.  the moment of truth is near, i can't wait to see if it works!  i don't plan on playing it tonight because i've had enough of staring at screens.  but i have to test it out!

i accidentally watched some of carson daly as i wrote that.  right now, korean doctor-comic "ken" is on who's actually kind of hilarious.  which is a nice contrast from carson daly.  oooo i'm fiesty tonight.  he's leaving so i'm shutting it off.  and signing off.

so dear reader, thanks for watching my brain empty.

spinsabelle**

(*variation attributed to Alain)

One Ending But Not The End

Every life comes to an end.  If there was a loophole to this law, my SuperFred would have been able to find it.  He left the world on February 20, 2009 peacefully. 2 AM.  I had seen him hours before, the last thing I said to him was 'I love you, I'll see you tomorrow'.  How oft we are wrong.  But I'm okay with that particular pitfall of humanity.  In my words he still heard what mattered.

Tonight I wrote an obituary from notes my dad's notes.  It still needs some review and then finally approved by me- and then out it goes to the local Star News, Princeton Review, and The New York Times(!): his favorite news source.

Strange to consider that soon I will have already met my goal of publication in 2009; obtained in a plot twist heavily foreshadowed in preceding chapters of my recent history.  My words will be printed on the musty creased ink smeared beautiful paper of The New York Times and the life of my hero honored in it and I feel... le sigh of happiness.  Something he can be proud of on his way out of the world 

like an exhaled breath.

rest in peace.

Spinsley

25 Real Things

Recently there was a famine on Facebook.  I was bugged, or "tagged" with the virus: 

25 Things About Me.  

My lovely bff Alain tagged me with her 25 random items of information that I knew already.  At first I slightly ignored this modern chain letter, stamped with the lyrics of 'You're so Vain', but a day later I get a call from her.  Asking in a higher pitch than normal she squeaks, "Spins, you know you have to do one now right?" and thirty seconds later I had caved into doing one myself.  

That night at three a.m. I wrote out 25 generic things about me, tagging Alain, so she could find out things she already knew about me.  I tagged 25 other people that came to mind first on my Facebook list- it had not much rhyme or reason.  I wrote things that if you hadn't really known me the last few years, it would fill in a couple gaps.  The list was impersonal, though truthful.

What if I was open with 25 Things about Myself?  If I gave a glimpse of who I really am in 25 tidbits of information? 

It would like something like this:

1.  If I am really involved with a book, you will find it in my purse during the day, and in the same room with me at night.  You never know when you'll get a chance to dive back into its alphabet scramble.

2.  If I won money, I would go traveling (and go to lots of music-shows).  If I could be doing anything right now, it would be seeing the world.  Jammin my way through countries.  Though I'm rooted in Wilmington and love it here, I still haven't finished looking around, and my travels remain a lingering dot dot dot.

3.  What I love about traveling is the discovery of new ways to think and live.  How we live is not how every person lives.  Not every landscape is your landscape.  [Nor mine but that last line didn't quite have the same punch with that admission.]

4.  I have found that watching commericals on the Spanish Channel are the easiest thing on the channel to understand.  While the soap operas are more entertaining, I have no clue what they are crying and fighting about.  Learning Spanish has been going fairly slowly but I'm still learning consistently.

5.  I've learned that the moon truly does tend to affect me.  Whenever its pulls are strong I act nuttier than usual.  A grand impulse, a teary overflow: both symptoms of a full moon.  It makes sense we are connected to the moon, we have evolved in its presence shining like a mystery before us, pulling on us with its gravity.  Just look at the waves of Earth: hugs from the moon.

6.  I believe in Ellen Degeneres' philosophy of dance.  Just move to your own rhythm and have fun.  Use the music for the body to express itself.  Shake what your mama gave ya.

7.  I have been single now for the longest period of time since I began dating, now that I think about it: a couple years and a heavy pocketful of change.  I honestly don't mind; I like having my own space.  Our culture is so obsessed with finding your one true love, but I prefer to concentrate on myself and what I can be and spending time with genuine people.  One day I'll find someone who I can sit with and also go on adventures with who "gets" me.  Maybe there isn't only one person for everybody.  I don't sweat the details.

8.  My sister was featured on WBLive Surf recently.  She rips.  I surf a little, a summer wahine.

9.  Spinsley started out of a drunk state of mind but morphed into a state of being.  [Did I mention I am a twenty-something?].  Slosh and Alain are credited of coming up with the pseudoymn Spinsley, during a dizzy night of downtown drinking.

10.  My trademark is red suade shoes.  I have a sort of passion for shoes, and let me loose in a store and I will beeline for red suade without even realizing it.  It's so a part of me that my first sentence was to my childhood best friend, pointing down to her red ballet flats and saying in my little girl voice, "I like shoes."

11.  My life is more entwined with my grandfather's than the average 25 year old.  I am writing a book about him.  It is scattered across notebooks and still in the very early stages.  His story won't be forgotten with his recent death, for he touched so many people's lives, and written evidence will remain.

12.  This isn't a fact about me.  But I was super close to winning a Who's Bad ticket yesterday [written days before this posted] on the world's best radio station 106.7 The Penguin.  Who's Bad is a Michael Jackson cover bad.  I looove some classic Michael Jackson jams and Who's Bad is better than seeing the real Michael Jackson because they jam hard and aren't creepy.  So I was one caller away from a good time, but I still got to talk with Beau Gunn briefly.  So it wasn't a total wash.  

13.  "Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream by night" -Edgar Allen Poe.  I am a daydreamer; I am a quoter of words.

14.  I have a love affair with candles, which many could attribute to the fact I am an Aries.  I love the Latino Cathlic candles from gas stations and grocery stores.  I love shakra candles even more.  There are some several religious idealogies represented in my house.

15.  It is going to bother Alain that so many of these sentences start with 'I'.  (But I counter, Honey, it's 25 things about me).  Her friendship is turning out to be a friendship of a lifetime.  (I luckily passed her cool test).

16.  I am an orange soda connessour.  Seriously.  And after much research I can say that Minute Maid Twister and Crush are the best.  Stewarts Orange and Cream is divine.  I remember Hank's Orange Soda being good as well, honorable mention let's say.

17.  I have really nice feet, except that one big toe is a half inch longer than the other.  It has an extra sterdy nail from when I lost the nail in third grade.  I call it my monster toe. 

18.  Convertables, boats, and motorcycles make life more exciting.

19.  I have unusual dreams, epic dreams.  Dreams so strange and exciting I've gotten writings from them.  A few days ago I had a dream that me and my closest friends all had these beautiful, strong, constant, angel-bird wings and we flew all night, in a dark starry painted sky.  I felt the breeze in my ears and the beat of my wings, blue, and shimmery in the way birds feathers are downy shimmery.  the wind wisked through my tiny light feathers, protecting me from the bite of the cold atmosphere.  We would smile as we passed each other, we'd fly in spirals and jet plane formations.  I slept until 3:30 PM that day refusing to stir to the world.  It was the nicest dream I've ever had.   Admittedly not my most unusual dream, but the first I remember where I could fly.  Yes.

20.  I'm glad the American people have found yoga.  It's such a trend but down the spiritual rabbit hole it goes, calming our addled minds and soothing a place inside that often remains ignored.  To seek to honor the moment by taking each breath with knowledge and appreciation, and use the movement of the body to awaken the mind.

21.  My anger burns hot and fast and then it is gone covered in ashes.

22.  Americans are fascentated with astrology, it follows me and pops up in unexpected places.  I never took a lot of stock in it until I started researching what my own sign was.  It turns out I'm an Aries-(Taurus)- they call me a cusper.  I am seriously that person, it can describe me often to a T, as demonstrated by the random website with questionable grammar I pulled this description from... [see * from solutionastrology.com].  My pseudoscience teacher "proved" this to be false with a handout he passed around with generic characteristics on it, and through deception tried to convince the class it was personalized.  Most people said it described them even though the papers all said the same thing.  I didn't feel like it nailed who I was. But this does, and more characteristics of the Aries come remarkablly close to who I am.  I did agree with my pseudoscience teacher with many of his points, and his class really opened my eyes to a new way of thinking.  He helped me in my quest to question.  But I'm beginning to think the universe perhaps affects me with its movements- it comes out in my poetry, my painting, my emotions.

23.  I just listened to my new-to-me Joy Division cd from local downtown shop CD Alley, two times in a row.  Joy Division 1977-1980 Substance.  Not since The Beatles, not since Bob Marley and the Wailers, has a group managed to pull my into their world so completely.  I can not know enough about them, I cannot hear their music enough.  I love this music infatuation, music is always less disappointing than love.  I just hit play for the third time.  And it delivers!

24.  I handwriting specialist would have a time analyzing my handwriting.  I change my handwriting often, for no particular reason.

25.  I realize more every day how important your family is.  Even if they are not blood-related, family is who hold us together.

So here is my ultimate over-share.  Months of pillow talk, shoved into a list lead by 25 numbers.  I opened myself up and this information flowed out.  Your Spinsley

http://xkcd.com/266/

*

CHARACTERISTICS :

It's a most powerful cusp. It has zodiac position of 27 degrees Aries and 4 degree Taurus. Season is half spring element is fire and earth ruler is mars and Venus.  In this period of year nature is full of force and release lot of beauty with solid intensity. It's a season festivities and celebrations. It's a season of melting of snow and colorful new era of life when earth is opening it's arms to welcome to hug the most talented nature. Everything living on earth feels to grow young and energetic. It leaves the expression of his/her meeting.  Born under this cusp are always strive of power in their day to day life. But their temper is scary dynamic of earth and solidness of Taurus, they see their birth right to be the best of every step. They can pursue their goals without doing any hanky panky. They make so easer to their goal that others starts feeling jealous of them. They know how to act, when to act and where to act. They are always self assure and people know them become confident about their impression. They always prefer to save their energy to use it at the right time. People involve with Aries Taurus c cusp can always be benefited tremendously of the powerful presence and ability of them. They care for money and they know money plays a great role in life. That is why they seldom ask money from others. As per love is concerned they will always go out of the way to make their promise to be kept. they speak less, and will always give opportunity others to speak. You see their energies when their broke, they are sleepless and they will be best doing mediation. And if they have money they will spend at touring, leasuring, massage and vacations.

broken silence, broken heart

If you do not have something good to say, don't say anything at all.  

I've been feeling this statement lately.  I've stretched into long strings of silence.  For A Day I've Always Dreaded is near: the day I lose my SuperFred.  His skin is tissue paper, spotched with purple strains.  Rippled like dried tissue wrinkly showing its past wet experience.  He is being moved his home tomorrow, a deathbed set up for him with 24 hour care waiting for him in his living room so he can be in a familiar and happy place for his ending.  He will have lots of hand holdings and goodbyes to say over the next day(s) and we make sure he's comfortable . . . and let go.  

I've been writing privately.

Today in his apartment I found a first edition complete collection of Robert Frost poetry.  A dark photo of bare trees wrapped around the book-jacket, that shows the wear of preserving the remarkably good condition of Frost's words through fifty years of consistent movings.  Fred and June, my grandmother and one mate of my soul, relocated to exotic places with this book: St. Croix, Russia, Berlin, and onward.  This Golden Find made my heart spin and I took it with me without guilt or regret.  I know Fred understands and wants me to have it.  I have been pouring over Frost today, revisiting and exploring new words; a nice break from the school-shooting-centered novel I've been reading this week.  

(How delightfully cheerful, youmaysay but Hey! Nostradamus by Douglas Coupland is turning out to be a thoughtful and interesting novel.  Though I have to admit, I'm feeling a little at home with it's somber tones).

Before you go and feel a thing like pity, take my advise and don't waste the calories.  For he made it to his goal age at 93 (he wanted to outlive his mother and sister who lived to 92) and our family had a lovely last Christmas all together.  He has a wonderful girlfriend who is kind, interesting, intelligent, and loves him and simply enjoys his company.  His two boys have found their way and he got to see his two grand-daughters grow up.   He has lead of one the most interesting lives that I've ever encountered and charms every woman he meets, and wins over most men as well though he doesn't show them the same attention or effort.  He always has a twinkle in his eye, if you get a good look between his winks.

in my silence there are goodbyes and exhaledsighs.   contained within,  no trace of lie.

Spins

  

Obamarama!

They say to save politics until at least the third date when in courtship. But these days it's almost impossible to hold it in for so long, and our generation has made its own rules.  We are currently living in a very exciting political climate.  New heroes have emerged, old crusty policies are being questioned, stereotypes have been broken, new enemies have been made, and the (start of the) fulfillment of Martin Luther King Jr.'s dreams for his birthday: all occurring while the stakes are the highest they've been since the Great Depression.  

Today Barack Obama became Mr. President.  Two million people stood at the Mall in Washington D.C's freezing weather- but no one I saw let the frosty cold reflect on their face as they watched the President of the United States swear in, and for the first time in our history he was a black man.  To have been there would be an irreplaceable experience, even though I'm no fan of cold weather.  To feel the excitement of change, to finally see the good side of America again, to have renewed faith in what She can be.  

I was partly scared of what could happen.  An outbreak of violence in some form.  My generation knows too many examples of the brutal fact that there are people out there that want to ruin a good party.  We've seen how quickly good times and peaceful gatherings can turn into terrible memories.  But even the cynics can breathe a sigh of relief: the dark heart of man did not reveal itself publicly today.

My inaugural celebration was of a much smaller party.  I woke up late and in a tizzy I turned on the television, realizing everything was about to begin.  My mom had coaxed my sister and I into going to her house and watching the inauguration, tempting us with the promise of mimosas.  At home, I waited until President Bush and Cheney started rolling out in procession then I turned off the TV and decided to make a dash for it.  (I figure the worst punishment for celebrities is to ignore them.  And George Bush & Co. are closer to the mentality of celebrities than of a presidency).  I opened my front door and vaa-la! it was a Winter Wonderland.  It rarely snows here in my hometown, and it seemed like a gift, even though I'd had a hint at its coming.  After a squeal I ran back inside for my coat and dashed back out the door.

On the way over to my mom's my windshield wipers started acting strangely.  I had no control over them, except to only make them go faster, then only slightly faster.  As the snow was then subsiding, their quick pounding was unnerving and wholly unnecessary.  When I got to my mom's and turned off the car, I was hoping the possessed wipers would stop, but even with the car off they kept a-pumping.

I hopped inside and started watching history.  I decided that the speech and surrounding ceremony was more important then the health of my car battery.  There were no mimosas, as my mom was hungover, and my sister had opted out of the event to go surf the snow waves.  It was still nice, and I enjoyed the late morning snuggled inside on a blistery day, with someone as excited as I was.  I went back out into the flurries at intervals to try my luck at calming the car wipers, but couldn't figure a cure.  So huddled back inside I enjoyed the poetry, the music, and even the prayers of the inauguration as my wipers trooped on outside: 

whoosh whoosh   whoosh whoosh.  

My mother was finally able to reason with me and we took my car to the auto-mechanic, and dropped it off to have its demon exorcised.  Blowing me kisses she drops me off at my place as my friend Sami calls and says she is on her way over.  We went down to this large ritzy shopping area and popped in a couple stores.  We talked, we browsed sales, we spent little money.  

It was not lost on us that we have been together on the darkest and brightest days in recent American history.  

Sami and I met on September 11, 2001- she was in my freshman gym class, and we were goofing around with an ab ball after we had just met, and the news was turned on.  On this morning the U.S. felt a thrust of violence different from anything we had experienced before, and at first we didn't really get it (Man, what was that pilot on to fly into a building??) but together we gradually grasped the magnitude of what happened.  We walked back to campus housing together never realizing she lived above me in the apartments until we were in front of the building.  And thus started our friendship.  Our time together abroad in Wales cemented our friendship.  Four years later we were together when the country elected Senator Barack Hussein Obama into Presidency and we celebrated with half our town at Reel Cafe.

And Sami and I found ourselves together on another historic day in American history, and on the first day of the rest of our lives.  It feels good to have someone in office that I can trust their judgment, someone who will positively represent our country and who is willing to fix, or at least try with every means at his disposal, the many problems politicians have shrugged off for several terms.  

So today I am feeling the hope I've been hoping for.  The glass is now half full, and we're halfway there.

In Pomp and Circumstance,

Cheers!

Spins

*Credits to Drunk Elaine: Obamarama!

Thought for Food

I live in a land of milk and honey.  A land like the one sought by a group of people a couple thousand years ago in the Middle East, as they wandered around in the desert... for decades.  On the mere faith they would find this bountiful locale.  I think the group of people eventually got their milk and honey, but not before some naughty dancing around a gold statue and a bonfire.  (You see, I live in America's South, and people 'round these here parts talk a lot about these stories).  These people fell on many more hard times, but that is an entirely different story for some other storyteller.

And in America, we live in this age of milk and honey.  Depending on where you live, you can usually drive less than a mile or two to a supermarket.  Inside each brightly lit supermarket are rows and rows of foods, sorted by category, most often in colorful boxes or bottles, shouting for attention.  Then sorted by different brands of food (the same food-thing but in different packaging) and some food even sorted by caloric value.  You will find various whimsical flavors, fake food, enhanced produce, and a frozen food aisle: once dubbed with a sigh as the loneliest grocery aisle by a past classmate of mine.

So would you like soy milk, lactose free milk, goat's milk, government milk, or chocolate milk? Or do you care for organic honey, store brand economical honey, honey ham, or honey in little bear shaped bottles?  Anything you want.

But there is a catch you know, there's always a catch.  You must hand over money to the clerk at the front of the store.  And you have to work for money, and some people can't do that.  Oh, there are many reasons, some their fault and some not.  Some have jobs but get paid very little and have other things to pay for too.  Some of us have had luckier breaks than others, and some of us were never given a chance.

The food waits for people to come free it from the shelves.  The supermarkets put out more than they need to so the shelves look nice and pretty and full.  So much of the time, food rots away on the shelves, and must be thrown out.  Sometimes they'll lower the price before this happens, but not always.

So we have an abundance of milk and honey and pretty much, whatever else we could desire, so close, a few dollars away.  We can look at it, and most of us can pick it up whenever we want, take it home with us and have a really nice garnish to breakfast.  But what's left we just toss, we can't just give it away.  

But will this period of excessive choice be always?  Why is this so normal for us when there are people so hungry all over the world, and even in our own country?  We scheme other countries out of produce, out of fisheries, out of resources, so our shelves can be full.  Now people are finding it harder to hand the money to the clerk waiting at the front of the store, we are finding we are something called a recession, which has everyone in America in a tizzy.  At least our government will throw you a borrowed dime, you may not get any honey but you can get some bread.

One of the worst experiences a person can have is to be truly hungry.  Oh, I do not know this from personal experience.  I have never known hunger that was forced upon me; if I was hungry it was because I had chosen not to eat.  But I do have it from second-hand knowledge.  My grandfather was a POW in World War II in the Phillipines and Japan.  One of the last living people that has experienced the Bataan Death March and the mistreatment in the following camps.  He grew to know hunger intimately- it's smell, the anullment of taste except for the memory, it's lingering breath.  But what makes him so amazing is his positivity, for every sad story from that time there is a lively one, and usually interesting.  I call him SuperFred, and never has a nickname suited someone better.  Our lives are so entwined it is hard not to speak of him, so you will get to know SuperFred through me.  His story is truly more amazing than Forrest Gump's.  For serious.

As we've covered some of my ancestry, a dash of consumerism, and a pinch of world hunger-- I believe that is enough for this entry.  Come back anytime.

In Rubrics and In Rainbows,

Spinsley

"I had once believed that we were all masters of our fate- that we could mould our lives into any form we pleased . . . I had overcome deafness and blindness sufficiently to be happy, and I supposed that anyone could come out victorious if he threw himself valiantly into life's struggle.  But as I went more and more about the country I learned that I had spoken with assurance on a subject I knew little about . . . I learned that the power to rise in the world is not in the reach of everyone." -Helen Keller

The Terrifying Blank Page

One thing that terrifies me is the blank page.  It staring back at me in all its blankness...  I worry what I am going to say isn't important, or fear that what I'll say is wrong because I've been wrong so many times before.  But I've decided to put my thoughts out there, and maybe someone will find it interesting, or important, or crazy: you have your own mind to make up about me.  Or you already know me and have already made up your mind.  But about one thing you can be sure: I will write my version of the truth and do my best not to lead your mind awry.

A little about me: I'm a poet who's shy about her poetry.  I went to undergrad for it: English Literature and Creative Writing, which turns out not to be all that worthwhile of a degree in the 'Real World': the realm most people find themselves stuck in.  The only blog I've written has been on myspace, though incomplete and sparce.  I have not published anything since the 7th grade.  

(Seventh grade? you might wonder.  A teacher of mine had submitted a piece I had written in response to Little Women, printed in a collection of middle-school writing.  I remember the piece: I wrote from the point of view of Beth, a letter to her family on her deathbed, ending with her impassioned declaration that she is not afraid of death.  Which borders on cheese, but if it's one thing I know: people love all kinds of cheese).  

I have been writing, only secretly.  Ninja style.

I've always been a creative mind and I constantly need to express myself but most often I don't put what I make 'out there'.  I'm not calling it a New Years Resolution even though it is the time of year we collectively think about these things, but more of a man-up order to myself.  There are plenty of writers who were late bloomers in this art and I consider myself now among them.  Just one thing I'm going to attempt to tackle.

2009 is to be a year of growth for me.  I believe in trying to improve oneself, and this year I am determined to make great strides.  2008 was a hard year for me, as it was for most people I've talked to.  I will elaborate on my story later, but for right now I'm focusing on what I want to come.  I am going back to school to build on my education.  I want to build on my knowledge of Spanish.  I want to write more and publish.  I want to travel again and I have promised my friend Haley a trip to China, where she will be teaching English beginning in March.  I also am working on improving my health by quitting smoking and getting back into shape.  These are my major goals this year, and I'll let you in on my progress.  You know, if I'm not feeling secretive ;).

Now I have broken my silence, and I hope you will enjoy reading my thoughts, opinions, and stories.  My page is no longer blank, and this is my one step closer to where I want to be.

Kisses and Kittens,

Spinsley