the great take-over.
a friend i know posted this on her facebook :
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven
and her friend responded:
interesting how its the posture towards and not the possession of righteousness...
i felt a rush of peace. i thought, how strange to be inspired by a serendipitous social networking connection?
and now i'm thinking, my what a long time it's been since i wrote on here...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
in realizing you're not frightened
O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse
- Walt Whitman
things i wish i recently found:
1. my ipod. %#@$*.
2. a job.
3. the little heart shaped cardboard box mallory gave me.
4. an easy recipe for cheese enchiladas.
5. money in my trouser pocket.
6. the irritating human being who superimposed obama's face on the classic norman rockwell 'freedom of speech' painting so i can give them a good talking to. give me a break people. don't mess with important art.
7. a previously undiscovered nook or cranny in my suitcases to fit all of this stuff that has materialized...
8. a reason not to leave. or rather, a means to stay.
9. a hidden artistic talent i never knew i had.
10. a surprise travel companion.
11. a treasure map to the sea. i need the ocean.
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse
- Walt Whitman
things i wish i recently found:
1. my ipod. %#@$*.
2. a job.
3. the little heart shaped cardboard box mallory gave me.
4. an easy recipe for cheese enchiladas.
5. money in my trouser pocket.
6. the irritating human being who superimposed obama's face on the classic norman rockwell 'freedom of speech' painting so i can give them a good talking to. give me a break people. don't mess with important art.
7. a previously undiscovered nook or cranny in my suitcases to fit all of this stuff that has materialized...
8. a reason not to leave. or rather, a means to stay.
9. a hidden artistic talent i never knew i had.
10. a surprise travel companion.
11. a treasure map to the sea. i need the ocean.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
i recently found:
1. i love to cook even when the onions make me cry
2. sometimes i have to stop what i'm doing just to write
3, i would rather be held than kissed
4. i'm only a perfectionist when i'm cooking
5. i would be happy in a cardboard box if i could have new flowers every morning
6. i would like to live in san francisco
7. my favorite sound in the world is a guitar being tuned
8. when babies fall asleep in your arms, you start to remember that life is simply good
9. i'd like to be the kind of quirky girl who says she'd rather a bouquet of balloons than flowers. but as mentioned before, flowers float my boat. and i'm scared of balloons...
10. i love the earth and all its friends, but when it comes to hot showers i am an environmental thief
11. and this written on the back of a 'to do' list:
had some time to think about you
bundled from up there in ribbons and bows
putting pink polish on your nails you feel like a girl
are you going to the ocean with those flowers in your hair
wearing sylvia plath on your back and your toes in the grass
throwing punches from where you stood on a chair
oh mice and little boys and the way they stare
you sing of flowers and lace and curls
but you are not a young lady and you don't look like you're adored
despite your rouge and red wine lips and french bottle of kiss
you don't have me fooled in your ballerina shoes
princesses don't have to pretend so hard
you shouldn't keep secrets that you don't know
we'll meet again down the road, you less traveled than you hoped
and i would like to have forgotten you and your ink pens and notepaper
i don't remember doing that. ten points if i can remember what it's about...
2. sometimes i have to stop what i'm doing just to write
3, i would rather be held than kissed
4. i'm only a perfectionist when i'm cooking
5. i would be happy in a cardboard box if i could have new flowers every morning
6. i would like to live in san francisco
7. my favorite sound in the world is a guitar being tuned
8. when babies fall asleep in your arms, you start to remember that life is simply good
9. i'd like to be the kind of quirky girl who says she'd rather a bouquet of balloons than flowers. but as mentioned before, flowers float my boat. and i'm scared of balloons...
10. i love the earth and all its friends, but when it comes to hot showers i am an environmental thief
11. and this written on the back of a 'to do' list:
had some time to think about you
bundled from up there in ribbons and bows
putting pink polish on your nails you feel like a girl
are you going to the ocean with those flowers in your hair
wearing sylvia plath on your back and your toes in the grass
throwing punches from where you stood on a chair
oh mice and little boys and the way they stare
you sing of flowers and lace and curls
but you are not a young lady and you don't look like you're adored
despite your rouge and red wine lips and french bottle of kiss
you don't have me fooled in your ballerina shoes
princesses don't have to pretend so hard
you shouldn't keep secrets that you don't know
we'll meet again down the road, you less traveled than you hoped
and i would like to have forgotten you and your ink pens and notepaper
i don't remember doing that. ten points if i can remember what it's about...
Monday, May 11, 2009
t minus 10 musings and counting
i've written four journal entries and haven't taken a single picture.
Kristen: well this is your home. when you live somewhere you don't really take pictures of your bedroom.
i decided last week that my heart is in rwanda. i've loved it since the first time i saw it. i might say i'm more at home in rwanda than even in uganda. mukono has become familiar in a way that i love and that makes my cheeks blush. but rwanda. i feel rwanda in my skin. i feel comfortable in kigali in a way i rarely feel comfortable. ever. yeah, it may have something to do with rwanda driving on the right side of the road. but somewhere beyond that, i'm content. i'm content surrounded by its hills and cool weather and community. content in a way i've always been looking for. rwanda makes me happy. plain and simple. i think i want to live there. i think i will.
if you'll come with me.
Kristen: well this is your home. when you live somewhere you don't really take pictures of your bedroom.
i decided last week that my heart is in rwanda. i've loved it since the first time i saw it. i might say i'm more at home in rwanda than even in uganda. mukono has become familiar in a way that i love and that makes my cheeks blush. but rwanda. i feel rwanda in my skin. i feel comfortable in kigali in a way i rarely feel comfortable. ever. yeah, it may have something to do with rwanda driving on the right side of the road. but somewhere beyond that, i'm content. i'm content surrounded by its hills and cool weather and community. content in a way i've always been looking for. rwanda makes me happy. plain and simple. i think i want to live there. i think i will.
if you'll come with me.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
here we go a rwanda-ing
i have folgers coffee. do you believe it? phil had a visitor from the states and surprised me by asking her to bring me some folgers. it's the best part of waking up.
the kiddies and i are off to rwanda tomorrow morning. rwanda round three. i love that place. more than most places in the whole world. but i'm tired. yesterday i went and took a nap through my lunch break and when i came stumbling back out into the daytime i found phil stumbling out of his dorm too.
- did you just take a nap?
- yeah.
- me too!
- oh geez.
it's coming to an end and we feel it. what an incredible year i've had!
i don't want to live anywhere else.
but i'm ready. ready to be surrounded by favorite faces. and favorite highways. and my favorite chicken soup my mom makes.
the kiddies and i are off to rwanda tomorrow morning. rwanda round three. i love that place. more than most places in the whole world. but i'm tired. yesterday i went and took a nap through my lunch break and when i came stumbling back out into the daytime i found phil stumbling out of his dorm too.
- did you just take a nap?
- yeah.
- me too!
- oh geez.
it's coming to an end and we feel it. what an incredible year i've had!
i don't want to live anywhere else.
but i'm ready. ready to be surrounded by favorite faces. and favorite highways. and my favorite chicken soup my mom makes.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
trees and things
i noticed today how particularly african everything looked. i don't usually think about it. i live here. it's like looking in your backyard and noticing that it has grass.
but today was different somehow.
maybe knowing that i'll be gone soon has opened my eyes. like people who survive near-death experiences only to notice how fantastically blue the sky is. and the sky was incredible today. a few clouds back and forth in front of the sun, giving off that perfect crisp light. and it may have been because of that picture perfect light that i noticed everything else.
the hill behind my dorm has rows of trees stacked on top of each other, one tiered over the next. palm trees and banana trees and hazy blue hard wood trees all moving in the warm air. today they stood out so sharply. birds were singing and shouting from all over. i could hear monkeys and black flies. it smelled green and sour like fallen ripe fruit where butterflies and ants came in twos and threes and twenties to drink up the juice. and last night's rain left the ground an extraordinary orange.
i noticed all of it. and i was a little in awe. my friend carissa (who you can thank for the newly designed blog. she's an artistic genius in more ways than one) gave me a quote yesterday.
the miracles of nature do not seem miracles because they are so common. if no one had ever seen a flower, even a dandelion would be the most startling event in the world.
dandelions. the most delightful of forgotten miracles. and today i tried to remember all the miracles i could. bees and pollination and avocados to eat off the branch. bird nests and moth wings and fallen trees. and i got to look them all in the face. a landscape out of national geographic or a child's imagination. i live in it.
and soon i wont.
but today was different somehow.
maybe knowing that i'll be gone soon has opened my eyes. like people who survive near-death experiences only to notice how fantastically blue the sky is. and the sky was incredible today. a few clouds back and forth in front of the sun, giving off that perfect crisp light. and it may have been because of that picture perfect light that i noticed everything else.
the hill behind my dorm has rows of trees stacked on top of each other, one tiered over the next. palm trees and banana trees and hazy blue hard wood trees all moving in the warm air. today they stood out so sharply. birds were singing and shouting from all over. i could hear monkeys and black flies. it smelled green and sour like fallen ripe fruit where butterflies and ants came in twos and threes and twenties to drink up the juice. and last night's rain left the ground an extraordinary orange.
i noticed all of it. and i was a little in awe. my friend carissa (who you can thank for the newly designed blog. she's an artistic genius in more ways than one) gave me a quote yesterday.
the miracles of nature do not seem miracles because they are so common. if no one had ever seen a flower, even a dandelion would be the most startling event in the world.
dandelions. the most delightful of forgotten miracles. and today i tried to remember all the miracles i could. bees and pollination and avocados to eat off the branch. bird nests and moth wings and fallen trees. and i got to look them all in the face. a landscape out of national geographic or a child's imagination. i live in it.
and soon i wont.
Friday, April 3, 2009
bright shiny mourning
i can't find my ipod. i think i lost it.
this is apocalyptic. for sure.
in other news, it's raining. raining raining raining. and it's cold. neither of these two things are any help when it comes to taking a shower.
allow me to explain.
in my younger days i would love taking a nice shower when it's chilly out. (actually, in my youngest days, i hated showering. it was such a waste of time and you just got so wet.) by the time i was old enough for high school and for driving, if it was snowy or rainy or a particularly cold morning, i would drag myself out of bed and hurry to the hot shower. and there i would stay. under hot water staying warm, singing to myself, keeping my eyes closed, keeping myself warm and comfy. and then my dad would shout from downstairs that the city called and i was draining them of their water supply. and then my mom would come banging on the bathroom door that i was gonna be late for school.
and then i was late for school.
but the shower was always a nice remedy to the cold and chill of morning. here in uganda it's not supposed to be cold. or chilly. unless of course you're taking a shower.
cold cold water.
as of this morning i had gone about a week without any sort of shower. face washing. hand washing. deodorant applying. this had been my hygiene regimen for a while.
regimen is a good word. not as good as paperclip though. listen to all those consenants! PaPerCLiP.
so last night i knew that the next morning i would have to wash this mess of hair. and i woke up to rain. rain rain rain. and cold.
but don't worry, i washed my hair. i stood in my pajamas with my head under the sink, cursing the cold and the rain and the puddle i was making on the floor at my feet. my monkey slippers looked up at me equally miserable with their cold shower.
i want my ipod.
maybe this is a lesson. do without music. do without your hair. agreed? anyone? probably not... don't worry i haven't done it yet. but i'm looking into it.
just think of all the cold water i would save!
this is apocalyptic. for sure.
in other news, it's raining. raining raining raining. and it's cold. neither of these two things are any help when it comes to taking a shower.
allow me to explain.
in my younger days i would love taking a nice shower when it's chilly out. (actually, in my youngest days, i hated showering. it was such a waste of time and you just got so wet.) by the time i was old enough for high school and for driving, if it was snowy or rainy or a particularly cold morning, i would drag myself out of bed and hurry to the hot shower. and there i would stay. under hot water staying warm, singing to myself, keeping my eyes closed, keeping myself warm and comfy. and then my dad would shout from downstairs that the city called and i was draining them of their water supply. and then my mom would come banging on the bathroom door that i was gonna be late for school.
and then i was late for school.
but the shower was always a nice remedy to the cold and chill of morning. here in uganda it's not supposed to be cold. or chilly. unless of course you're taking a shower.
cold cold water.
as of this morning i had gone about a week without any sort of shower. face washing. hand washing. deodorant applying. this had been my hygiene regimen for a while.
regimen is a good word. not as good as paperclip though. listen to all those consenants! PaPerCLiP.
so last night i knew that the next morning i would have to wash this mess of hair. and i woke up to rain. rain rain rain. and cold.
but don't worry, i washed my hair. i stood in my pajamas with my head under the sink, cursing the cold and the rain and the puddle i was making on the floor at my feet. my monkey slippers looked up at me equally miserable with their cold shower.
i want my ipod.
maybe this is a lesson. do without music. do without your hair. agreed? anyone? probably not... don't worry i haven't done it yet. but i'm looking into it.
just think of all the cold water i would save!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
oh so well
my mom tells me i'm writing apocalyptic blogs about being lost. in the words of kanye west, hey mama... actually i'll stop there. there aren't a lot of kanye words i really want to be repeating.
so here's a less apocalyptic thought: hope does not disappoint.
and nether does a nice hot shower. which i need. and a hair cut. which i guess could technically disappoint. but not if it's a total head shave... right?
so here's a less apocalyptic thought: hope does not disappoint.
and nether does a nice hot shower. which i need. and a hair cut. which i guess could technically disappoint. but not if it's a total head shave... right?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
do you see yourself in me
while browsing facebook the other day...
ouch. yes, this is something i do on a fairly regular basis. and what's worse, i'm about to take part in a facebook-begun fad. but bare with me. i'll do my darndest to turn it into some sort of eloquent insight by paragraph 3.
while browsing facebook the other day, i came across one of those ceaseless 'do this and tag 15 people and pass it on and blah blah blah' things. but it happened to belong to a darling thing i think very highly of so i went ahead and read it. it went a little something like this:
google your name and the word 'needs' by putting them both in quotation marks (ie. "annie needs") and then post the first ten sites that come up. there was probably something at the end about your wildest dreams coming true if you do this, but i skipped that part... and went to google.
i assume the intention here is to find hilarious things such as darling claire's 'claire needs a visit to the bunny planet.' what the?? but mine read as follows:
1. annie needs to be rescued by the armed forces. (hmm...)
2. annie needs a daddy warbucks. (TELL me about it)
3. annie needs to release a live album. (ok that one's funny)
4. annie needs more students like jack. (huh??)
5. annie needs a monday. (no thank you)
6. annie needs a home. (...)
7. annie needs a miracle.
8. annie needs the basics.
9. annie needs prayers.
10. annie needs some advice.
so here's the thing. i need some advice. and a miracle. and a daddy warbucks while you're at it...
i just need a home.
which brings me to number 8. i need to get back to basics. no rhymes no embellishments, no adjectives. for what purpose do i engender the lot so labyrinthine?
why do i make everything so complicated?
it can't only be because i love the thesaurus...
all of this over thinking is making me tired. this is the only life i've got and i'm gonna darn well enjoy it! i'm gonna live by the sea and learn to play the harmonica. i'm going to make my own pasta noodles from scratch and cook for the neighbors. i'm gonna have a pet cat. or fish. or turtle. and i'm going to go for walks and see the sunset. i'm just gonna do it.
so say a little prayer for me. before i end up needing to be saved by the armed forces...
and in the spirit of life and lightheartedness, here's a little something to make you giggle sent to me care of my coworker margaret. we work hard in this office.
here's something else to make you giggle. i've decided to stop biting my nails. i know i know. this happens nearly once a year about this time. but i'm gonna do my best. because annie needs to not have to put bandaids over her bleeding fingers.
ouch. yes, this is something i do on a fairly regular basis. and what's worse, i'm about to take part in a facebook-begun fad. but bare with me. i'll do my darndest to turn it into some sort of eloquent insight by paragraph 3.
while browsing facebook the other day, i came across one of those ceaseless 'do this and tag 15 people and pass it on and blah blah blah' things. but it happened to belong to a darling thing i think very highly of so i went ahead and read it. it went a little something like this:
google your name and the word 'needs' by putting them both in quotation marks (ie. "annie needs") and then post the first ten sites that come up. there was probably something at the end about your wildest dreams coming true if you do this, but i skipped that part... and went to google.
i assume the intention here is to find hilarious things such as darling claire's 'claire needs a visit to the bunny planet.' what the?? but mine read as follows:
1. annie needs to be rescued by the armed forces. (hmm...)
2. annie needs a daddy warbucks. (TELL me about it)
3. annie needs to release a live album. (ok that one's funny)
4. annie needs more students like jack. (huh??)
5. annie needs a monday. (no thank you)
6. annie needs a home. (...)
7. annie needs a miracle.
8. annie needs the basics.
9. annie needs prayers.
10. annie needs some advice.
so here's the thing. i need some advice. and a miracle. and a daddy warbucks while you're at it...
i just need a home.
which brings me to number 8. i need to get back to basics. no rhymes no embellishments, no adjectives. for what purpose do i engender the lot so labyrinthine?
why do i make everything so complicated?
it can't only be because i love the thesaurus...
all of this over thinking is making me tired. this is the only life i've got and i'm gonna darn well enjoy it! i'm gonna live by the sea and learn to play the harmonica. i'm going to make my own pasta noodles from scratch and cook for the neighbors. i'm gonna have a pet cat. or fish. or turtle. and i'm going to go for walks and see the sunset. i'm just gonna do it.
so say a little prayer for me. before i end up needing to be saved by the armed forces...
and in the spirit of life and lightheartedness, here's a little something to make you giggle sent to me care of my coworker margaret. we work hard in this office.
here's something else to make you giggle. i've decided to stop biting my nails. i know i know. this happens nearly once a year about this time. but i'm gonna do my best. because annie needs to not have to put bandaids over her bleeding fingers.
Monday, March 23, 2009
didn't i see you
you wont believe me if i tell you. but i will anyway.
the other night i was sitting on the porch with phil and some students. i was looking at the students, concentrating on whatever story i was absorbed in telling. then i felt something hit my lap and leave. i froze.
annie, a bat just landed in your lap and flew off!
i didn't answer. i hate bats and was going to be sick. but then phil said:
no no. that wasn't a bat. that was a moth.
so we all turned to see if we could find it. and then there it was, fluttering around a little lopsided, a huge moth. it settled down on the cement wall and we all stood and moved over to it.
phil...
i know!
it was him. it was the moth from the office. the same hole on his right side. the same uneven wings, the left hanging down a little further. he was there. and alive. and he came to tell me so.
i found geoff later and told him the story. he stopped in his tracks and held his arms up in the air.
no way! annie, what a hug and kiss from God!
i hadn't thought of that...
the other night i was sitting on the porch with phil and some students. i was looking at the students, concentrating on whatever story i was absorbed in telling. then i felt something hit my lap and leave. i froze.
annie, a bat just landed in your lap and flew off!
i didn't answer. i hate bats and was going to be sick. but then phil said:
no no. that wasn't a bat. that was a moth.
so we all turned to see if we could find it. and then there it was, fluttering around a little lopsided, a huge moth. it settled down on the cement wall and we all stood and moved over to it.
phil...
i know!
it was him. it was the moth from the office. the same hole on his right side. the same uneven wings, the left hanging down a little further. he was there. and alive. and he came to tell me so.
i found geoff later and told him the story. he stopped in his tracks and held his arms up in the air.
no way! annie, what a hug and kiss from God!
i hadn't thought of that...
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
human kind
i saved a moth today. it was a big moth. a huge one. the kind you see in 'national geographic' with the spots on their wings that look like eyes. he had gotten himself stuck in the grate outside the office. he was covered in dust and couldn't move much. i stood over him wondering what to do. then geoff walked by and i asked him if he would help me. he came over and lifted the grate while i used his library book and blue ink pen to lift the dusty moth out into the open. when i looked at him face to face i could see he was dying.
geoff, i think he's dying.
i pulled some of the dirt and weeds away from him and decided to put him somewhere pretty. i carried him to the yellow flowers around the parking lot and put him underneath them. when i walked back i gave geoff his library book and his blue ink pen and geoff said,
thank you for being human annie.
and then he walked away.
i've saved a turtle from the middle of a busy street. i've rescued baby birds who fell out of their trees. and today i tried to save a moth. i never knew why it was so important to me to try and save these little lives. maybe because i've never been able to save a big life. but now i wonder if maybe it was because it was making me human. and i'm tired of forgetting that i'm human.
geoff, i think he's dying.
i pulled some of the dirt and weeds away from him and decided to put him somewhere pretty. i carried him to the yellow flowers around the parking lot and put him underneath them. when i walked back i gave geoff his library book and his blue ink pen and geoff said,
thank you for being human annie.
and then he walked away.
i've saved a turtle from the middle of a busy street. i've rescued baby birds who fell out of their trees. and today i tried to save a moth. i never knew why it was so important to me to try and save these little lives. maybe because i've never been able to save a big life. but now i wonder if maybe it was because it was making me human. and i'm tired of forgetting that i'm human.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
eat a peach for peace
it's tough loving music this much. i watch movies like 'walk the line' and 'high fidelity.' the band's 'last waltz' or 'this is spinal tap.' and next thing i know i'm planning my band's debut performance at the double door. and then i remember i don't play an instrument. so i watch 'almost famous' instead and wonder, if compared to penny lane five times in the same day, does it make it true?
i've never had the musical skills to toot a flute. or the patience to sit through a piano lesson. and my hands are too small to play the guitar. or at least to do that thing where you wrap your thumb around the top of the neck to mute the e string. but i still like to paint my fingernails black and i still know my way around a microphone stand. what i don't know is how to take all my pages of rhyming thought and give them a melody. so they just stay all over my paper like spilled milk.
when i was a little girl, spilling milk was a big deal. my sisters and i would be at the kitchen table eating our mac&cheese and our dill pickles. inevitably some sort of elaborate make-believe scenario would be taking place or sarah would be forcing us to practice a musical routine of some kind. and with all that shouting and singing and grande hand gesturing, someone would topple over their glass of milk. and the fun would cease. the next elaborate performance would be that of stealthily wiping up the mess and cleaning off the table and floor without being caught. a make shift spy drama.
and now i've found myself in a whole other messy... mess. and i'm just as eager to clean it up. or put it to music. or jump on a bus and ride around the nation with a feather boa and a polaroid camera and not worry about any of it.
maybe that will be next on the agenda. dear mister ryan adams, yes i will join you on your upcoming summer tour. seeing as our impending romance will be a hard one to hide, i suggest you notify miss mandy moore of your canceled engagement as soon as possible. see you soon, darling. don't forget the road snacks.
it's all happening,
annie
i've never had the musical skills to toot a flute. or the patience to sit through a piano lesson. and my hands are too small to play the guitar. or at least to do that thing where you wrap your thumb around the top of the neck to mute the e string. but i still like to paint my fingernails black and i still know my way around a microphone stand. what i don't know is how to take all my pages of rhyming thought and give them a melody. so they just stay all over my paper like spilled milk.
when i was a little girl, spilling milk was a big deal. my sisters and i would be at the kitchen table eating our mac&cheese and our dill pickles. inevitably some sort of elaborate make-believe scenario would be taking place or sarah would be forcing us to practice a musical routine of some kind. and with all that shouting and singing and grande hand gesturing, someone would topple over their glass of milk. and the fun would cease. the next elaborate performance would be that of stealthily wiping up the mess and cleaning off the table and floor without being caught. a make shift spy drama.
and now i've found myself in a whole other messy... mess. and i'm just as eager to clean it up. or put it to music. or jump on a bus and ride around the nation with a feather boa and a polaroid camera and not worry about any of it.
maybe that will be next on the agenda. dear mister ryan adams, yes i will join you on your upcoming summer tour. seeing as our impending romance will be a hard one to hide, i suggest you notify miss mandy moore of your canceled engagement as soon as possible. see you soon, darling. don't forget the road snacks.
it's all happening,
annie
Sunday, March 8, 2009
waking simon of cyrene
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
on a day a long time ago, Jesus Christ fell down. and on that day a man came forward to carry what Christ couldn't. not a god. not a saint. just a simon. and now here we are, so many days later, all falling down on our faces one by one. and i'm starting to wonder, where are all the simons? when did we forget what it meant to step forward and carry the weight for those around us who couldn't? why are our shoulders so empty of crosses? why are mine?
i didn't take communion today. i'm not confirmed. but i did weep. and i'm starting to think that's a sacrament of its own.
while i'm waiting for easter in these following days, i hope i learn to have the strength to carry more than i believe i can. even if its heavy. even if it has blood on it. and maybe i'll learn how to let Christ carry me while i'm at it.
peace be with you. and if you wouldn't mind, and also with me.
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
on a day a long time ago, Jesus Christ fell down. and on that day a man came forward to carry what Christ couldn't. not a god. not a saint. just a simon. and now here we are, so many days later, all falling down on our faces one by one. and i'm starting to wonder, where are all the simons? when did we forget what it meant to step forward and carry the weight for those around us who couldn't? why are our shoulders so empty of crosses? why are mine?
i didn't take communion today. i'm not confirmed. but i did weep. and i'm starting to think that's a sacrament of its own.
while i'm waiting for easter in these following days, i hope i learn to have the strength to carry more than i believe i can. even if its heavy. even if it has blood on it. and maybe i'll learn how to let Christ carry me while i'm at it.
peace be with you. and if you wouldn't mind, and also with me.
Friday, March 6, 2009
truck stops for coffee and presidents for company
i have met:
a girl who owns her own plane.
a boy with an english accent.
a girl who has surfed with jack johnson.
a marathon runner.
a certified pilot.
a pretty redhead.
a professional model.
a swimming champion.
a disciple of rich mullins.
an aspiring housewife.
an excellent cook.
a hypochondriac.
a beatles expert.
a folk singer.
a farmer's daughter.
a girl with an engineering degree and a sense of humor.
a book reading fanatic.
a fellow olivetian.
a boy with a beard.
a soon-to-be nurse.
a soon-to-be wife.
a might-be nun.
a boy with a miniature guitar.
a ballerina.
a missionary kid.
put them together and what have you got? my semester of students. a learning experience a challenge and a whole lot of fun.
and only a few more weeks with them.
and then we all move on.
again.
phil: i've heard the east coast in the states is getting a big winter storm. i haven't seen snow or been sledding in so long. do you guys miss winter?
me: i don't know. being in seattle kind of reminded me that i've forgotten how much effort it takes to exist in the cold!
gwyn: i miss being able to live by the seasons. yeah, there's a winter. but then it's over and you get a spring. and then things grow and then there's a summer and it's hot and then fall and there's campfires. you can judge your year by the change of season.
and then i thought to myself, yet another element of living in the states that perpetuates the american desire to move on. we'll exist in winter, but only as long as we're promised a spring. we're always moving forward. we're always changing places. even if not geographically, we're still changing. or trying to. or wanting to. john steinbeck has some good words about it. (who i had a dream about last night... we were in a tree house. it was odd.) the american predisposition to uprooting oneself.
i've been swept up in it. i'm still participating in it. but maybe someday i'll slow down. or sit still. or plant roots. or even a garden. and i wont have to say goodbye to everyone i meet every time i meet them. and i wont have to spend so much money on plane tickets. and i'll get to actually taste the food that they cook and fly in their airplanes and pirrouette across the kitchen floor. which in the spirit of american understadning will be a whole new phase in and of itself. the phase with roots. not a girl who's a pilgrim.
a girl with a garden.
and a girl with a reason to wear her fancy dress tonight. she might see the president! and you simply can't meet a president in baggy trousers.
library benefit dinner. sounds so very prestigious!
a girl who owns her own plane.
a boy with an english accent.
a girl who has surfed with jack johnson.
a marathon runner.
a certified pilot.
a pretty redhead.
a professional model.
a swimming champion.
a disciple of rich mullins.
an aspiring housewife.
an excellent cook.
a hypochondriac.
a beatles expert.
a folk singer.
a farmer's daughter.
a girl with an engineering degree and a sense of humor.
a book reading fanatic.
a fellow olivetian.
a boy with a beard.
a soon-to-be nurse.
a soon-to-be wife.
a might-be nun.
a boy with a miniature guitar.
a ballerina.
a missionary kid.
put them together and what have you got? my semester of students. a learning experience a challenge and a whole lot of fun.
and only a few more weeks with them.
and then we all move on.
again.
phil: i've heard the east coast in the states is getting a big winter storm. i haven't seen snow or been sledding in so long. do you guys miss winter?
me: i don't know. being in seattle kind of reminded me that i've forgotten how much effort it takes to exist in the cold!
gwyn: i miss being able to live by the seasons. yeah, there's a winter. but then it's over and you get a spring. and then things grow and then there's a summer and it's hot and then fall and there's campfires. you can judge your year by the change of season.
and then i thought to myself, yet another element of living in the states that perpetuates the american desire to move on. we'll exist in winter, but only as long as we're promised a spring. we're always moving forward. we're always changing places. even if not geographically, we're still changing. or trying to. or wanting to. john steinbeck has some good words about it. (who i had a dream about last night... we were in a tree house. it was odd.) the american predisposition to uprooting oneself.
i've been swept up in it. i'm still participating in it. but maybe someday i'll slow down. or sit still. or plant roots. or even a garden. and i wont have to say goodbye to everyone i meet every time i meet them. and i wont have to spend so much money on plane tickets. and i'll get to actually taste the food that they cook and fly in their airplanes and pirrouette across the kitchen floor. which in the spirit of american understadning will be a whole new phase in and of itself. the phase with roots. not a girl who's a pilgrim.
a girl with a garden.
and a girl with a reason to wear her fancy dress tonight. she might see the president! and you simply can't meet a president in baggy trousers.
library benefit dinner. sounds so very prestigious!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
(in)coherent observations at 36,000 feet
british airways is a remarkable airline. movie choices and fuzzy blankets are the least of it. on my way to london, the flight attendants kicked off the journey by wandering the cabin handing out plastic zipper baggies of crayons and coloring books and other funs to any children on board. i had never seen that before. i tried to sink down in my seat in an attempt to get one for myself. but at some point i turned 23 and that's a hard truth to hide. so i flew on without any coloring books but with a hefty amount of bendryll.
entrance into the developed world was an experience to say the least. i didn't know what to absorb first. the white lighting, the shiny floors, the ever-flushing toilets with ever-stocked toilet paper. i couldn't decide so instead i absorbed nothing and stared at the snow out the airport window. but i will note one aspect of western society that i couldn't help but inhale. men's cologne. cologne is worse than rare in parts of the world that have more important things to worry about than under arm smell. but cologne is a wondrous thing that i love to smell and found myself leaning in awkwardly close to the men i stood in line with.
and standing in line served as an interesting cross-section of what's been happening while i've been away. groups of classmates on skying trips. men in well fitting blazers and stylish shoes. women wrapped in silk scarves and chanel bracelets to cover up that they ought to be married by now. and while all of europe it seems has decided to keep tucking their pants into their boots, the entirety of western civilization has decided to start coloring their hair. not even blonde or wild unnatural colors. just any color not their own. i swear i didn't see a single head of hair its natural color until i landed in seattle where hair dye is harmful to the environment and therefore not allowed upon penalty of being declared unworthy to live on the west coast. (fact: on my flight into boston i asked for coffee several times and kept reusing the same styrofoam cup. the flight attendant asked me if i was from california... i told him i was currently living in east africa, at which point i was given free wine for the rest of the flight. fantastic and yet unfortunate considering i had been attempting a rigorous sleep/no-sleep schedule in order to be on seattle time before i got there. instead i toppled over into the empty seat next to me and slept soundly until we were on top of the boston airport and i was being woken up to stow my tray table.)
and being in boston was lovely. the accents. the swearing. the locals opting for function over fashion. i nearly froze to death in the oh-so lovely airport where i spent a long and fitful night trying to sleep on a baggage trolly cart with a cup of duncan doughnuts coffee and my ipod. by the time 6am rolled around i was like an a.d.d child. i had waited long enough to get to washington state. i sat down on that airplane between two delightful ladies from dallas and we talked and talked and told stories and shared pictures and cell phones and pointed at the mountains out the windows and on a saturday afternoon i finally saw seattle for the first time. and aside from the biting cold, it was a wonderful welcome.
i went for a walk on wednesday while my gracious and gorgeous hostess was in class. i found a travel bookstore and i found a public library. and i found that in u.s. cities, particularly those concerned with fuel emissions, pedestrians are treated with the highest respect. sidewalks are kept clean and crosswalks are honoured and eyed with caution. a hundred feet from the crosswalk and on-coming cars are screeching to a halt for anyone on two feet. after living in a place where walking through town is taking your life in your hands, i learned to love the attention. i strolled around, head held high, crossing busy streets chewing my bubble gum. coming upon a host of trash cans i confidently took out the gum and dropped it in the nearest bin. at which point i realized i had used the recycle bin. i literally gasped out loud and ran for the nearest doorway for fear of being bum rushed by enraged seattlites. not surprisingly, i found myself in a coffee shop. i took off my coat and drank a hot chocolate and tried to act natural.
thursday i had an interview. the interview. the all-day-long teach for america interview hosted by ex-elementary school teachers who talked with so much enthusiasm and fervor that i found them hard to match! every time i spoke my pitch got higher and my eyes got wider until i swear we were SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER!! but it was fun to give a mock lesson and meet new people and eat a subway sandwich. yums. and now i have a few weeks to wait until i find out. miss carter anyone? i guess we'll see. it's weird to have this semester winding down already. job interviews and apartment searches. life just keeps rolling along doesn't it. airplanes and temporary beds and more airplanes. time stops for no one i guess. at least that's what they say.
flying back was an experience as well. the jfk airport was hosting a movie set. no exciting story there. i didn't see anyone of particular interest. just the holding room for the extras and i wondered for a second if i could get away with joining them. i know a thing or two about a craft service table.
beyond that is mostly dreams and delirium. i used to envy people in airports. on the rare occasion that i wasn't the one flying, i would covet the plane tickets and carry on baggage that wasn't my own. i wanted to be moving. i wanted to be going somewhere. but this time, this last bout of international travel, i didn't feel this at all. i didn't feel much really. but this time i watched outside the waiting lines. the security personnel. gate attendants. men and women who woke up to their alarms and shared their breakfast and locked their front door on the way to work. the front door that they'll be back to by 5. i coveted their groceries and their electricity bills. and then i got on another plane and flew to another airport and slept on another bench of plastic chairs.
and landing in brussels was maybe the most disturbing bit of the whole trip. i've walked into a few airports in my day. crowds of people and busy janitors and bustling food courts. music on the intercom and colored light beaming from store fronts. but not in brussels. in my sad and sleepy state i walked down the frosted jet bridge in the wake of my own white breath, waiting for the comfort of close bodies and coffee shops. instead i walked off into a void. a beige tiled void. colossal vaulted ceilings, off white walls and hallways with the breadth of the titanic. and no noise. no music. absolutely no pictures on the walls except for the occasional black and white shot of david beckham in his underpants. we all walked in silence, fanning out into a wide spread smattering with plenty of room to spare in the vast space. the place was almost entirely lit with natural light from windows and sky lights. and it stayed as silent as a shoe box. until the intermittent pa announcement would run. once in english, next in french, and last in german. and then a hush. the whole thing was weirdly disconcerting and when i fell asleep at my gate and woke again in line to board i convinced myself i had dreamt up the wonderland in my state of fatigue.
and now i'm back. back in this place that feels so familiar to me. i'm legally a resident now. a ugandan working resident. when i got off the plane and passed all the sorry suckers who had to buy visas and walked through the 'returning residents' line at customs, i'm sure i was glowing. what a feeling! unfortunately that feeling has quickly turned into a feeling of exhaustion. i'm not sleepy, per say. considering i slept quite literally all day. but i am tired. so i'll go now. pop a few benedryll and try to sleep through the night. on to more days. more time that doesn't stop or even slow. on and on and on. and i'll just have to see what comes next. that's all we can do. try. and try our best.
xoxo
entrance into the developed world was an experience to say the least. i didn't know what to absorb first. the white lighting, the shiny floors, the ever-flushing toilets with ever-stocked toilet paper. i couldn't decide so instead i absorbed nothing and stared at the snow out the airport window. but i will note one aspect of western society that i couldn't help but inhale. men's cologne. cologne is worse than rare in parts of the world that have more important things to worry about than under arm smell. but cologne is a wondrous thing that i love to smell and found myself leaning in awkwardly close to the men i stood in line with.
and standing in line served as an interesting cross-section of what's been happening while i've been away. groups of classmates on skying trips. men in well fitting blazers and stylish shoes. women wrapped in silk scarves and chanel bracelets to cover up that they ought to be married by now. and while all of europe it seems has decided to keep tucking their pants into their boots, the entirety of western civilization has decided to start coloring their hair. not even blonde or wild unnatural colors. just any color not their own. i swear i didn't see a single head of hair its natural color until i landed in seattle where hair dye is harmful to the environment and therefore not allowed upon penalty of being declared unworthy to live on the west coast. (fact: on my flight into boston i asked for coffee several times and kept reusing the same styrofoam cup. the flight attendant asked me if i was from california... i told him i was currently living in east africa, at which point i was given free wine for the rest of the flight. fantastic and yet unfortunate considering i had been attempting a rigorous sleep/no-sleep schedule in order to be on seattle time before i got there. instead i toppled over into the empty seat next to me and slept soundly until we were on top of the boston airport and i was being woken up to stow my tray table.)
and being in boston was lovely. the accents. the swearing. the locals opting for function over fashion. i nearly froze to death in the oh-so lovely airport where i spent a long and fitful night trying to sleep on a baggage trolly cart with a cup of duncan doughnuts coffee and my ipod. by the time 6am rolled around i was like an a.d.d child. i had waited long enough to get to washington state. i sat down on that airplane between two delightful ladies from dallas and we talked and talked and told stories and shared pictures and cell phones and pointed at the mountains out the windows and on a saturday afternoon i finally saw seattle for the first time. and aside from the biting cold, it was a wonderful welcome.
i went for a walk on wednesday while my gracious and gorgeous hostess was in class. i found a travel bookstore and i found a public library. and i found that in u.s. cities, particularly those concerned with fuel emissions, pedestrians are treated with the highest respect. sidewalks are kept clean and crosswalks are honoured and eyed with caution. a hundred feet from the crosswalk and on-coming cars are screeching to a halt for anyone on two feet. after living in a place where walking through town is taking your life in your hands, i learned to love the attention. i strolled around, head held high, crossing busy streets chewing my bubble gum. coming upon a host of trash cans i confidently took out the gum and dropped it in the nearest bin. at which point i realized i had used the recycle bin. i literally gasped out loud and ran for the nearest doorway for fear of being bum rushed by enraged seattlites. not surprisingly, i found myself in a coffee shop. i took off my coat and drank a hot chocolate and tried to act natural.
thursday i had an interview. the interview. the all-day-long teach for america interview hosted by ex-elementary school teachers who talked with so much enthusiasm and fervor that i found them hard to match! every time i spoke my pitch got higher and my eyes got wider until i swear we were SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER!! but it was fun to give a mock lesson and meet new people and eat a subway sandwich. yums. and now i have a few weeks to wait until i find out. miss carter anyone? i guess we'll see. it's weird to have this semester winding down already. job interviews and apartment searches. life just keeps rolling along doesn't it. airplanes and temporary beds and more airplanes. time stops for no one i guess. at least that's what they say.
flying back was an experience as well. the jfk airport was hosting a movie set. no exciting story there. i didn't see anyone of particular interest. just the holding room for the extras and i wondered for a second if i could get away with joining them. i know a thing or two about a craft service table.
beyond that is mostly dreams and delirium. i used to envy people in airports. on the rare occasion that i wasn't the one flying, i would covet the plane tickets and carry on baggage that wasn't my own. i wanted to be moving. i wanted to be going somewhere. but this time, this last bout of international travel, i didn't feel this at all. i didn't feel much really. but this time i watched outside the waiting lines. the security personnel. gate attendants. men and women who woke up to their alarms and shared their breakfast and locked their front door on the way to work. the front door that they'll be back to by 5. i coveted their groceries and their electricity bills. and then i got on another plane and flew to another airport and slept on another bench of plastic chairs.
and landing in brussels was maybe the most disturbing bit of the whole trip. i've walked into a few airports in my day. crowds of people and busy janitors and bustling food courts. music on the intercom and colored light beaming from store fronts. but not in brussels. in my sad and sleepy state i walked down the frosted jet bridge in the wake of my own white breath, waiting for the comfort of close bodies and coffee shops. instead i walked off into a void. a beige tiled void. colossal vaulted ceilings, off white walls and hallways with the breadth of the titanic. and no noise. no music. absolutely no pictures on the walls except for the occasional black and white shot of david beckham in his underpants. we all walked in silence, fanning out into a wide spread smattering with plenty of room to spare in the vast space. the place was almost entirely lit with natural light from windows and sky lights. and it stayed as silent as a shoe box. until the intermittent pa announcement would run. once in english, next in french, and last in german. and then a hush. the whole thing was weirdly disconcerting and when i fell asleep at my gate and woke again in line to board i convinced myself i had dreamt up the wonderland in my state of fatigue.
and now i'm back. back in this place that feels so familiar to me. i'm legally a resident now. a ugandan working resident. when i got off the plane and passed all the sorry suckers who had to buy visas and walked through the 'returning residents' line at customs, i'm sure i was glowing. what a feeling! unfortunately that feeling has quickly turned into a feeling of exhaustion. i'm not sleepy, per say. considering i slept quite literally all day. but i am tired. so i'll go now. pop a few benedryll and try to sleep through the night. on to more days. more time that doesn't stop or even slow. on and on and on. and i'll just have to see what comes next. that's all we can do. try. and try our best.
xoxo
Monday, January 26, 2009
fly the ocean in a silver plane
i never walk barefoot outside here because people tell me not to get strange bugs in my feet. but today i did it anyway. and i'd forgotten how human it feels to have warm grass underneath your feet. sometimes we'll do whatever we can to feel human. sometimes it involves tears or traveling or cigarettes or waking up with strangers. sometimes you just need to be able to hear traffic outside your window. but today it just took standing in warm grass with my bare toes.
i think in the world we live in right now, we need all the help we can get to feel human. i wish all it took was standing in the sun. but sunshine, however lovely, can't love you back. it can't heal your heart and it can't heal your diseases. it can give you a sunburn though. maybe that helps us feel human too sometimes. a little bit of pain.
not to mention, standing in the sun alone is still just you standing. as human as it feels to know the earth, there is a point when humans need to know each other. what a face looks like close up. what entree to share. someone to tell you when you're lying. someone to put aloe where you can't reach the sunburn between your shoulders. people need people. and no i'm not quoting barbara streisand. yuck.
i heard a quote yesterday that says 'love is what you do.' there was a second half to it. something comparative. like 'and life is what you live.' or 'not what you are.' something like that. but i don't remember. if i were to finish that quote though, i would say 'love is what you do, not just what you think about doing.' and i've thought about doing for so long that i'm afraid i've forgotten what it means to actually do. because love takes sacrifice. and i don't want to be a coward.
"I am happy to report that in the war between reality and romance, reality is not the stronger." - john steinbeck
i hope so john. i'm counting on it.
i think in the world we live in right now, we need all the help we can get to feel human. i wish all it took was standing in the sun. but sunshine, however lovely, can't love you back. it can't heal your heart and it can't heal your diseases. it can give you a sunburn though. maybe that helps us feel human too sometimes. a little bit of pain.
not to mention, standing in the sun alone is still just you standing. as human as it feels to know the earth, there is a point when humans need to know each other. what a face looks like close up. what entree to share. someone to tell you when you're lying. someone to put aloe where you can't reach the sunburn between your shoulders. people need people. and no i'm not quoting barbara streisand. yuck.
i heard a quote yesterday that says 'love is what you do.' there was a second half to it. something comparative. like 'and life is what you live.' or 'not what you are.' something like that. but i don't remember. if i were to finish that quote though, i would say 'love is what you do, not just what you think about doing.' and i've thought about doing for so long that i'm afraid i've forgotten what it means to actually do. because love takes sacrifice. and i don't want to be a coward.
"I am happy to report that in the war between reality and romance, reality is not the stronger." - john steinbeck
i hope so john. i'm counting on it.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
no one throws a party like ma teresa can, you can't catch me i'm the ginger bread man
pretend with me for a while...
your phone rings.
you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in paris.
them: ooooo, jealous! drink lots of good wine and have so much fun.
your phone rings.
you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in africa.
them: wow, good for you! i'm glad you're out making a difference in the world.
i don't have any further thoughts on the matter. i don't have any analysis to bring it full circle. i don't know what i think. i'm still trying to analyze.
i can't even quite figure out why i can't get it out of my head. i'm not in europe. i'm in africa. and? i'm in uganda. so what. there are about 31,195,754 of us here. what do you have to say about it?
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
your phone rings.
you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in paris.
them: ooooo, jealous! drink lots of good wine and have so much fun.
your phone rings.
you: hello?
them: hi.
you: how are you?
them: fine.
you: who is this?
them: you don't know me.
you: i guess not, but that's ok.
them: tell me about yourself.
you: well, i'm living in africa.
them: wow, good for you! i'm glad you're out making a difference in the world.
i don't have any further thoughts on the matter. i don't have any analysis to bring it full circle. i don't know what i think. i'm still trying to analyze.
i can't even quite figure out why i can't get it out of my head. i'm not in europe. i'm in africa. and? i'm in uganda. so what. there are about 31,195,754 of us here. what do you have to say about it?
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
you're out making a difference in the world.
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