Update

Some of the current events of life, in all its tragic beauty.

Well, firstly, my grandfather has been in and out of intensive care for the past month or so. He is struggling with the loss of his ability to swallow. His doctor asked my dad if he wanted to put my grandpa on life support, which my dad decided to do. My grandfather now has a feeding tube going directly from his stomach to a food pump, but no one's quite sure how long it will last. Prayers about this, my friends. We knew it would have to come eventually, but that never really prepares you for what it's like to lose a loved one.

My family recently finished putting a fence around our whole back yard. This is excellent for the dogs, and is something we've been thinking about doing for years. Hoorah!

I am officially an R.A. next year, about which I am both excited and extremely nervous. I'm pretty sure I'll make a good R.A., I just have trepidations about the time commitment.

There is a road trip being panned for this summer!! More to come on that later. We're going through New York (the state), near Albany, into Canada, and back down and out into Boston. Not sure this is the best idea when gas is $3.80 a gallon, but, on the upside, it'll probably only get worse from here on out, so really, we're getting it in just on the tail end of our ability to do so!

I'll be working on a new behavioral therapy program for kids who have autism over the summer with Josh's neuropsychologist.

I had the most amazing piece of cake I've ever eaten today.

Ignorant, rude people should always be taken in stride, and remember, the patience you possess which allows you to reflect on yourself and not grow bitter is what differentiates you from them, so, be the better man, I suppose.

Oh, and I've been increasingly struck with the ineptitude of some of the parents of my friends recently. The best advice I have garnered from this? Don't have kids unless you're ready, and unless you're willing to unconditionally love them with the fullest extent of your being.

Poetry

Just thought I'd put some work up. Eh, everything in stride, I've just been feeling more creative of late.

The Swingset

Hey! I like you,

and Remember! that time I

Spilled! juice on your

pants?

(feet planted like sugarcane stalks)

(dirty and slow, soles mingling with dust)

(Draaaaag, kick)

(Draaaaag, kick)

(Push off, lunar landing style)

the sky is

Pink!

I’ll race you,

And!

if I could,

Fly!

today, these arms would

Reach!

out over

Your!

tall power lines.

and Hey!

I liiiike you

(Grindddd.)

It was the dirty ones

with no love in their hearts

that took the seat and his chain

and threw them to the cold of the sky

to drape, in death, over cold metal bars

a facsimile of a sham of a swing.

Benthic Trembling Star Voices

If you've never read A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L'Engle: A) You need to get on that. The library has two copies. And B) Farandolae are these wonderful and quite possible imaginary entities within mitochondria which act as the rythymic instruments which pulsate and create the life within a mitochondria. Oh, and if you aren't a science person, I suppose there should be C) Mitochondria are the energy makers within each of our cells, but which are entirely subject unto themselves, and are the only things within our entire body which contain their own unique set of DNA, separate from ours. Which is really, when you think about it, quite wonderfully amazing.

Farandolae
And waving.
whittling fronds from paper cells,
pasting in eyes, and glass pieces of eight.
Which break upon the teeth.
A reflection of the smiles
strung upon my plastic
menagerie
You.
Sweet, desperate vacuum.
That our efforts long to fill
in every place at once.
For love.
Mito
en
sito, with
Con, taken down and beaten blue,
gasps
of air
for flailing alveoli
dance
splits the goddess of, Dria.
Contractions force the movement
out of the static hands.
Work.
Relative
Related to
Quanta.
Apoptosis forgot to cut
that part of me
the farandolae waving,
the benthic trembling star voices.

Benign

And to the tip of my tongue this falls
you asked, for it to be there
it is the scrap metal of fear
it is the rusty screw and driving nail of my contortions
I am your machine.
There will be thank you’s emitted from high squeaking mouths,
wrenched by guilt, flooded by the naked sap of grief,
soaked in it.
Stunted.
And wilting.
Bitter sand paper grates the skin from my hands
as I rub faster,
to make your tomes
these, the decrepit dichotomies in diatribe,
to make language on pages where no word should trod.
This is the effort of your slaves,
of your queens,
Of the sad sweet cinnamon tales.
Monotony becomes my eyes and my lips and my feet and my breasts
Just to be your machine.
I am once held, yet again released on leash,
forever a prisoner bound,
forever lusting after the sweetness of air.

To: Miss Kellina Kathryn Lupas

A letter to myself.

Dear Miss Kellina,

I would advise you to take patience with your life. Know that you are loved and appreciated. Realize the fact that while suffering happens within individuals, healing happens best within a community. Never lose your love of Irish music, or of dancing around the kitchen in socks and pretending you are the Lord of the Dance. Always remember extraneous facts, such as the idea that the pineapple is just a glorified nut. Be silly, especially with children. You know you love it when their little faces light up with joy when you make silly voices, and tell them stories about how we can run atoms on tracks underneath Arizona and make them hit a wall and split apart with the force of a nuclear explosion. Always, always, always be a critical thinker. Never stop reading and learning. Life is not simply an exhortation to get old, it is an invitation to celebrate. Love the summer, revel in the winter snowflakes, dance in the spring, laugh in the fall; realize that hibernation is not just for bears, sometimes. Remember the Nutcracker whenever you encounter a particularly snowy evening or morning.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your soul. Take time out of every day to get down in earnest prayer and say, "God is this what you want for me?" Be a mindful being, not simply moving through this world, but really dwelling within this magnificent earth. Be idealistic. Someone has to be. Realize that it mattered for that one starfish.

Take time to be artistic. Take time to appreciate the greatest artist of them all. Remember when dad told you that God sometimes takes his huge paintbrush and sweeps it across the sky to make those clouds look so beautiful? There is no end to the beauty in creation. Get excited! Life is majestic. Don't feel weighted down with your internal battles. Be honest, and open.

Above all else, my sweet Kellina, be patient. Life is not a race, nor is it measured by how much we gain or lose in the material sense. You need to take time to develop, otherwise, like the beautiful lotus who bloomed too soon, you too will become stunted. Be feminine, be powerful, be wise, and open yourself to learning from others. Everything is possible through Him who dwells within me. You are loved.

Lazily

I'm just sitting here at my desk, reminiscing about Mexico. You see, currently there is just the slightest, sweetest breeze rolling in through my window, and I can hear the birds, but the day is still a bit chilly. And I remember how on my first trip to Oaxaca, we stayed at this hotel in the city called Casano del Llano, which means Big House on a Hill. We arrived, that first day, late in the night. We had walked all the way from the bus station, and I remember just being completely exhausted and excited all at once. I dropped my things at the end of my bed, marveled at the fact that there weren't any glass windows in the whole building, and promptly fell asleep.

What's triggering the memory now is the sensation I felt when I woke up that morning. The light was gently peeking through the window. It was chilly, but I was cozy in the bed. The room was full of the smell of fresh sheets and flowers. When I walked over to the window, the most beautiful, amazing sunrise greeted me. I'd never even seen a mountain before, and there I was, experiencing one of the most magical things any one of us can go through - a sunrise over the mountains. I just remember the day being crisp in a way I'd never felt before. Charged with energy, ready to give forth a beautiful, full day, resplendent with life and love, and hope.



Yeah, I just wanted to write about how beautiful Oaxaca is. Or was, I should say, before the civil war hit. *sigh* There is always hope, right?

That pic is of me painting faces in Sidihui.