Last week I printed out a series of emails between me and my dad from my freshman year at college in which we talked about the R.E.M. song “Losing My Religion.” I read it over and over for the “Love, Dad”s and “Here’s my prediction: you’re going to ace the quiz and the presentation and the mid-term. I have no doubts.” It’s so, so, so bizarre to have lost my number one supporter. What holds me up anymore?
Ticket to Germany booked. (Best part will most definitely be the one hour long layover in Reykjavik. If I manage that without passing out of anxiety, I will be able to get through the term.)
Things that make me incredibly anxious include: traveling to a foreign country in which I only-sorta speak the language traveling to said country via a country in which I totally don’t speak the language airplanes airports travel, in general being alone TRAVELING ALONE
Looks like I’ll be having a panic attack in Iceland! There’s one for the bucket list.
My dad’s brother K had a dream last night, his first pleasant dream about my dad Incredibly vivid and realistic. K was walking through an antiques store with his grandmother looking at various items when the phone rang - it was for K. It was my dad. My dad told him he was at somewhere beginning with an ‘S’ [K can’t remember exactly what; also as my mom retold this story she said, “at least it wasn’t HELL!”] and that he was just waiting for 2 more people before he went on.
Hmm. In the immortal words of our friend Livestock*, “Oh, no - I’m a believer.”
* - Her name is not really livestock, but when my dad was in the hospital, she sent my brother a text meaning to say “call me later” that auto-corrected to “call me livestock.”
After my initial “YAY, I’m doing a thesis. Most people don’t do that in undergrad” my reaction is now to run away, fast.
Today I was inspired with an idea for my thesis. I got really, really, really excited (started running around my kitchen and bedroom yelling “thesis!” with my partner over Skype) and then I was like ERP. AHH. CRAP.
my favorite singer, one of my favorite songs. I need a lullaby today. Other forms of self-care I am engaging in include buying myself a periwinkle candle and a dish towel with sea-turtles on it. Later there will be hot chocolate and maybe soup. Focus on: my loving family. My loving partner. My loving friends. My schoolwork. My father who loves me, wherever he is. I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay.
- Your representatives in Congress (Representative and Senators). Go here to find their information (and to find out who represents you - you only need to know your address).
When you reach them/their assistants tell them: - I am [name]. I am a United States citizen. I vote. You are my representative. - I am following coverage of the atrocities being committed in Libya. - I DEMAND that the United States act in every way it can to protect the Libyan people. I demand that the US take decisive and forceful action and that it urges the UN and NATO to take similar actions, IMMEDIATELY.
Please reblog and please call. We cannot let this continue on our watch.
“Finally, instead of desensitizing the emotions that were connected with household work, the industrial revolution in the home seems to have heightened the emotional context of the work, until a woman’s sense of self-worth became a function of her success at arranging bits of fruit to form a clown’s face in a gelatin salad.”—The “Industrial Revolution” in the Home: Household Technology and Social Change in the Twentieth Century by Ruth Schwartz Cowan
The dead are always looking down on us, they say.
while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,
they are looking down through the glass bottom boats of heaven
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.
They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,
and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,
drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon,
they think we are looking back at them,
which makes them lift their oars and fall silent
and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.
The Dead by Billy Collins
Daddy and I shared a deep love for Billy Collins and his work. We actually met him once, as well! I showed a few friends the documentary about Billy Collins that I had given my dad a few years back. Charming, funny as always. Today, in honor of my dad, I am buying a Billy Collins book for my Kindle. :)
“every blade of singing grass was calling out to me
that our love would always last
and inside every turning leaf
is the pattern of an older tree:
the shape of our future, the shape of all our history
and out of the confusion, where the river meets the sea
were things I’d never seen, things I’d never seen
I was brought to my senses”—Sting, I Was Brought To My Senses