That's the name of the Orhan Pamuk novel I'm intently reading right now; it's also the name for the frozen, hexagonal bits of water that have been falling from the sky this week.
I had forgotten that I had started to hate the cold. I used to love it. I could walk around in weather like this (30° Fahrenheit) without a coat (or sweaters!). But my tolerance has waned. Now the cold hurts me all over. I long for somewhere with milder weather year-round.
Snow-the-novel is hurting me a bit too, because it's heartbreakingly beautiful as a novel. It's hard to tear myself away from it. I'm reading slowly; I often read faster than this, but I don't want to miss a thing, or speed past something without having taken the appropriate amount of time to consider what it says.
As usual, I feel compelled to start something. The problem is that I feel this a lot, particularly when I'm in the middle of other things.
Beginnings are what I love best. That said: let's see it all through.
Even the winter. And the next. And probably the one thereafter.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Saturday, December 1, 2007
How to Start the Weekend: Choose my adventure.
My suggestion:
go to the craft fair at your place of business, which your company sponsors during the holiday season. Walk over there -- it's in the other building -- after a day of not feeling so well.
A couple times today, you got up and just didn't feel well. You got a cold -- or a throat thing -- coming on. No big deal, but you might be a little tired.
But when the end of the day comes, you're ready to check out the craft fair. You're feeling better. Ready for the weekend. Ready to relax, to have fun, and so forth.
So you walk over there.
Then you fall down the stairs when your ankle gives out under you. Thankfully, there's a nice guy there to help you up, and you don't hurt too badly. So you get up, go back to your cube in the other building, wrap your foot in the ace bandage you had brought for your wrist but never used, sit for a few minutes to chill out -- the fall sort of rattled you -- and then go home.
It starts to ache.
It turns out, people, that while going to the craft fair at work on Friday afternoon, I sprained my ankle in the fall.
Stupid!
That is the stupidest way to start the weekend.
Ever.
End transmission.
go to the craft fair at your place of business, which your company sponsors during the holiday season. Walk over there -- it's in the other building -- after a day of not feeling so well.
A couple times today, you got up and just didn't feel well. You got a cold -- or a throat thing -- coming on. No big deal, but you might be a little tired.
But when the end of the day comes, you're ready to check out the craft fair. You're feeling better. Ready for the weekend. Ready to relax, to have fun, and so forth.
So you walk over there.
Then you fall down the stairs when your ankle gives out under you. Thankfully, there's a nice guy there to help you up, and you don't hurt too badly. So you get up, go back to your cube in the other building, wrap your foot in the ace bandage you had brought for your wrist but never used, sit for a few minutes to chill out -- the fall sort of rattled you -- and then go home.
It starts to ache.
It turns out, people, that while going to the craft fair at work on Friday afternoon, I sprained my ankle in the fall.
Stupid!
That is the stupidest way to start the weekend.
Ever.
End transmission.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Momentum 9
On Saturday, as I described (and provided a picture of), I went to the ICA and saw an exhibit that really stuck with me -- Momentum 9: Kader Attia.
It has stuck with me through today. I thought of those ghosts all day today.
It has stuck with me through today. I thought of those ghosts all day today.
Momentum 9
In the dark dormitory designed
With plywood in mind and bare
Bulbs, I can feel the ghosts. They
Are the withered walking dead
Tired. Their mattresses cling
To their shapes like the wild
Mother to stillborn baby-in-arms.
She could die if she doesn’t let it go.
Or we could be the ghosts.
Strolling through their lives,
Their impressions neatly
Pressed into their mattress
As they hide under the frame
And try not to breath.
They could die if they don’t let it go.
In the end, when I leave the room
Breathing again. I am holding
A wall. A railing. Anything
To make the earth still again
And rotate back to now. Tangled
In extension cords, I feel tethered:
I could die if I don’t let it all go.
This is still, but it is a propeller
In the world of museums and art,
Chopping bits of past and making
You taste them, the dust of their
Weary years gone by.
Most of us
Choked. Most of us
Lived. Except those
Who could not
swallow. Except those
Who couldn’t let it go. They could.
Have. If. Did.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Holiday. Celebrate.
Weekend in Brief:
Left work on Wednesday.
Made Cranberry Sauce.
Watched Donnie make Turkey and Cobbler. He's a pro.
Thursday.
Drove to RI.
Found an extremely awkward situation in my mother's living room.
Situation quickly became even more uncomfortable with the arrival of my mom's husband's (NOT my "step father") parents. My mom's husband is a year older than I am. He used to live across the street. His parents have never met my maternal grandparents.
There was also a couple who were friends of the family, but they had recently broken up and were in the room together.
It was.....the food was good.
Drove home. Tired.
Friday.
We slept in a bit.
Fed Kitties.
Sort of laid about the house for an hour or two.
Went shopping.
It was crazy, but sort of just "weekend" crazy. Not "black friday" crazy.
Let me point out that "black friday" is not black because of how "crazy" it is. It is "black" as in the phrase "in the black" or having made a lot of money/profit, although it originally comes from a reference to the stock crash of "Black Tuesday" because of the heavy foot/vehicle traffic. I don't have the patience to explain this just now. It's like a riot. Not riot ha-ha, but riot ohmygodgetoutofthewaythey'restampeding.
We got gifts for my brother, our niece and picked up a few serious sale DVDs.
Saturday.
On Saturday, I got up very, very early (haha -- eight am. I have to be at work by then on Monday!) and drove to Foxboro, my hometown, Don's hometown, and the high-school home town of my best friend, Kristin. We stopped a Bickford's for breakfast out of desperation; good breakfast places are sort of few and far between in that area. We were greeted by a curmudgeonly woman who, when I pulled on the door on the right to make it easier to get through, uttered an excited "No!" However, our food was ok.
I drove there to collect Kristin, which I did. We drove into Boston and got lost trying to find the Institute of Contemporary Art, although we did eventually find it.
The ICA was pretty amazing in that most of the exhibits were emotionally unsettling, although a few were intentionally funny.
The exhibit that bothered me most was "Momentum 9: Kader Attia." M9KA was an installation of a dark room with walls of plywood. In the room were beds made of what looked like boxes or more plywood, with foam mattresses. The mattresses, in turn, had had foam ripped out of them in the shape of bodies.
We left the museum after we saw everything, and began to drive to Salem. We stopped at a Wendy's on the way home.
Wendy's.
The Wendy's Restaurant was clean, and there appeared to be only a short wait. However, we ended up waiting for about fifteen minutes. Our food came; however, my burger was missing cheese. The woman behind the counter grabbed a slice, put it in a container, and handed it to me.
Ok. Whatever.
Then, another customer, a male who looked to be in his late teens, went up to the counter and complained because he had found a piece of fur in his sandwich. Ew. Of course, they should take care of that, no problem. It's unfortunate, but that kind of thing will happen from time to time.
"I'm not even kidding, look. There's this long piece of hair or fur or something in my sandwich."
He pulls out a long piece of white fur-like hair; it looks like it came from a dog.
"No sir. You put that in there."
Right, of course they'll replace....wha? What?
"No -- I'm serious. This doesn't belong in my food. This is ridiculous."
And on and on, the workers continued to accuse him of putting the fur in his own food.
Now, regardless of whether or not they have a history with this guy, the fact is they have other customers, including me, standing around watching this altercation. Does this mean that if I have a complaint about my food, I'm going to be responsible? Does this mean that they have no customer service skills?
I didn't intervene, even though I desperately wanted to. Holy crap.
Kristin and I sat down with our food. Our sandwiches tasted four hours old. Ick. We ate only as much as necessary (which in this case was very little and mostly composed of soda. Nutritious) and left. Quickly.
We made it to my house and chilled out for a bit, and watched a terrible movie called "Murder Party." However, "MP" is so bad, it's good. And parts of it are endearing. So if you can deal with pretty bad acting and some gore, and have some patience towards stupidity, you're probably good to giggle to a viewing of "Murder Party." The film is about a group of art students who are interpreting a murder of an unwilling victim through art for a grant.
Here's my favorite gem of dialogue from this film:
"Why did you take our art?"
"Well, I was going to kill all of you, and then sell it, because art is only worth money after you're dead."
"So you like our art?"
Ridiculous.
After the movie, Kristin and I drove to Saugus to have some yummy Mexican food at the Border Cafe. There was a bit of a wait, but we got in and got delicious food. Incidentally, I got Kristin's leftovers, because she's flying out on Monday and it probably couldn't even take the ride to Foxboro. She: Chicken Guadalajara. Me: Beef Enchiladas. We also had some guacamole. She: margaritas. Me: diet coke.
I was driving.
We came back to my house one more time, and then I drove her home. I probably won't see her again for another six months. Last time I saw her was May; this is November; I would guess that our next visit will occur in May.
Sunday.
I had intended to write all day, although today wasn't a total loss; I did some research on Berlin for the period between the 1970s and 1990; right now I'm making spice cake. mmmm.
Most of it was wasted, but the day isn't over yet.
Left work on Wednesday.
Made Cranberry Sauce.
Watched Donnie make Turkey and Cobbler. He's a pro.
Thursday.
Drove to RI.
Found an extremely awkward situation in my mother's living room.
Situation quickly became even more uncomfortable with the arrival of my mom's husband's (NOT my "step father") parents. My mom's husband is a year older than I am. He used to live across the street. His parents have never met my maternal grandparents.
There was also a couple who were friends of the family, but they had recently broken up and were in the room together.
It was.....the food was good.
Drove home. Tired.
Friday.
We slept in a bit.
Fed Kitties.
Sort of laid about the house for an hour or two.
Went shopping.
It was crazy, but sort of just "weekend" crazy. Not "black friday" crazy.
Let me point out that "black friday" is not black because of how "crazy" it is. It is "black" as in the phrase "in the black" or having made a lot of money/profit, although it originally comes from a reference to the stock crash of "Black Tuesday" because of the heavy foot/vehicle traffic. I don't have the patience to explain this just now. It's like a riot. Not riot ha-ha, but riot ohmygodgetoutofthewaythey'restampeding.
We got gifts for my brother, our niece and picked up a few serious sale DVDs.
Saturday.
On Saturday, I got up very, very early (haha -- eight am. I have to be at work by then on Monday!) and drove to Foxboro, my hometown, Don's hometown, and the high-school home town of my best friend, Kristin. We stopped a Bickford's for breakfast out of desperation; good breakfast places are sort of few and far between in that area. We were greeted by a curmudgeonly woman who, when I pulled on the door on the right to make it easier to get through, uttered an excited "No!" However, our food was ok.
I drove there to collect Kristin, which I did. We drove into Boston and got lost trying to find the Institute of Contemporary Art, although we did eventually find it.
The ICA was pretty amazing in that most of the exhibits were emotionally unsettling, although a few were intentionally funny.
The exhibit that bothered me most was "Momentum 9: Kader Attia." M9KA was an installation of a dark room with walls of plywood. In the room were beds made of what looked like boxes or more plywood, with foam mattresses. The mattresses, in turn, had had foam ripped out of them in the shape of bodies.
We left the museum after we saw everything, and began to drive to Salem. We stopped at a Wendy's on the way home.
Wendy's.
The Wendy's Restaurant was clean, and there appeared to be only a short wait. However, we ended up waiting for about fifteen minutes. Our food came; however, my burger was missing cheese. The woman behind the counter grabbed a slice, put it in a container, and handed it to me.
Ok. Whatever.
Then, another customer, a male who looked to be in his late teens, went up to the counter and complained because he had found a piece of fur in his sandwich. Ew. Of course, they should take care of that, no problem. It's unfortunate, but that kind of thing will happen from time to time.
"I'm not even kidding, look. There's this long piece of hair or fur or something in my sandwich."
He pulls out a long piece of white fur-like hair; it looks like it came from a dog.
"No sir. You put that in there."
Right, of course they'll replace....wha? What?
"No -- I'm serious. This doesn't belong in my food. This is ridiculous."
And on and on, the workers continued to accuse him of putting the fur in his own food.
Now, regardless of whether or not they have a history with this guy, the fact is they have other customers, including me, standing around watching this altercation. Does this mean that if I have a complaint about my food, I'm going to be responsible? Does this mean that they have no customer service skills?
I didn't intervene, even though I desperately wanted to. Holy crap.
Kristin and I sat down with our food. Our sandwiches tasted four hours old. Ick. We ate only as much as necessary (which in this case was very little and mostly composed of soda. Nutritious) and left. Quickly.
We made it to my house and chilled out for a bit, and watched a terrible movie called "Murder Party." However, "MP" is so bad, it's good. And parts of it are endearing. So if you can deal with pretty bad acting and some gore, and have some patience towards stupidity, you're probably good to giggle to a viewing of "Murder Party." The film is about a group of art students who are interpreting a murder of an unwilling victim through art for a grant.
Here's my favorite gem of dialogue from this film:
"Why did you take our art?"
"Well, I was going to kill all of you, and then sell it, because art is only worth money after you're dead."
"So you like our art?"
Ridiculous.
After the movie, Kristin and I drove to Saugus to have some yummy Mexican food at the Border Cafe. There was a bit of a wait, but we got in and got delicious food. Incidentally, I got Kristin's leftovers, because she's flying out on Monday and it probably couldn't even take the ride to Foxboro. She: Chicken Guadalajara. Me: Beef Enchiladas. We also had some guacamole. She: margaritas. Me: diet coke.
I was driving.
We came back to my house one more time, and then I drove her home. I probably won't see her again for another six months. Last time I saw her was May; this is November; I would guess that our next visit will occur in May.
Sunday.
I had intended to write all day, although today wasn't a total loss; I did some research on Berlin for the period between the 1970s and 1990; right now I'm making spice cake. mmmm.
Most of it was wasted, but the day isn't over yet.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thanksgiving
was Weird.
However, its weirdness and awkwardness were not so great to exclude a few nice moments.
I hope everyone's holiday was lovely!
However, its weirdness and awkwardness were not so great to exclude a few nice moments.
I hope everyone's holiday was lovely!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Call me sappy, I'll punch you in the face.
Seriously, because I can hardly stress enough the value and integrity and beauty and pure genius of the people around me on a daily basis -- and those traits are especially prevalent, I feel, among my friends.
I will not give a list here, because I am sure to forget someone or something and this is no time to be particular or upset because you feel you've been ignored. Just take in the fact that I appreciate you.
My friends and the people around me are typically extremely sweet, funny, intelligent, compassionate and capable of amazing things.
Many of my friends are either some sort of artist or have crazy untapped talent.
Today I traded genuine compliments with a new pal who sits across the office from me. I listened to some of the new songs my friends have produced. I viewed the trailer for my friend's film -- again. I laughed -- really hard -- on the phone with my friend a little while ago.
I'm appreciative of all you people, even if you don't know it.
So there.
I will not give a list here, because I am sure to forget someone or something and this is no time to be particular or upset because you feel you've been ignored. Just take in the fact that I appreciate you.
My friends and the people around me are typically extremely sweet, funny, intelligent, compassionate and capable of amazing things.
Many of my friends are either some sort of artist or have crazy untapped talent.
Today I traded genuine compliments with a new pal who sits across the office from me. I listened to some of the new songs my friends have produced. I viewed the trailer for my friend's film -- again. I laughed -- really hard -- on the phone with my friend a little while ago.
I'm appreciative of all you people, even if you don't know it.
So there.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Sunday Scribblings: I Carry
I carry:
worry
extraneous papers
plans
broken pens
hairbrush
diabetes
pain relief
pain
barrettes
elastic bands
food allergy
glucose tablets
disease
maps
apologies
spare change
credit cards
relationships
license
business cards
ipod
recently purchased books
poem drafts
ideals
glucometer
insulin
pills
my friends
bag
a bottle full of water
myself
worry
extraneous papers
plans
broken pens
hairbrush
diabetes
pain relief
pain
barrettes
elastic bands
food allergy
glucose tablets
disease
maps
apologies
spare change
credit cards
relationships
license
business cards
ipod
recently purchased books
poem drafts
ideals
glucometer
insulin
pills
my friends
bag
a bottle full of water
myself
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