A Free Association On One My Favorite Trips of '09

Memories of September, 2009.

Tybee Island, Georgia.

My favorite part of the trip was spending time with my family. I don't often have a chance to connect with those few souls who actually share a familial relationship with me. It was very nice to be able to unwind and enjoy the beach with people that I dearly love.

We ate fresh shrimp nearly every day -- delicious! -- and I pigged out on my favorite cuisine in the world, southern soul food.

I spent copious amounts of time at the beach, mostly observing the wildlife (especially the birds), and marveling at the ever changing nature of the ocean.

I watched people fly their kites, giant shipping boats roll by the shoreline, and the faint, twinkling lights of ships far out at sea.

A lovely day was spent in Savannah, Georgia with my mother. We sauntered through the historic section and meandered along the waterfront, stopping at practically every touristy shop there was. I cracked jokes about all the Paula Deen cooking products, while my mom attempted to find t-shirts that weren't completely tacky. My jokes were terrible and my mom couldn't find a decent t-shirt to save her life, but we had fun anyway.

I never did find Flannery O'Connor's childhood home, but it was nice to know she had once walked the same Savannah streets.

I drank some kind of god awful liquor concoction out of a coconut, and fed some scrawny looking alligators. Of course, when I re-told the story to my friends, I left out the part about how small the 'gators were, and did my best to sound like a brave expert used to dealings with vicious slithering beasts.

Everyone complained about the heat, but made no secret about basking in all the sunshine.

I got a sunburn for the first time in about five years, but didn't care. I was tan, warm and filled with the senseless calm that the beach always gives me.

Tybee Island and Savannah -- one of my favorite memories of 2009.

All of the photographs were taken by me and may not be used without permission!

BrightEyes

In Memorium

BrightEyes, 1993 - October 21, 2009

To our little woman with the green-gold eyes:

You are missed. You are loved. You are not forgotten.

Thank you for loving us all these years. You truly were, and will always remain, a member of our family.

wet koalas have taken over this blog

Every now and then, something so wonderfully odd comes along that I feel the need to share it online. It also helps if the oddity is amazingly cute. Odd + cute = awesome. Photographs of wet koalas definitely qualifies as 'Must Post On Blog' material ....

And, in case anyone was wondering why I have photographs of wet koalas stashed all over my computer, these came from an email conversation I had with an Australian friend of mine. She sent me the first picture, and after that, I had to start doing some Google Image searches of my own. They're too funny (and hideously cute!) not to share with you guys.

I'm slightly obsessed with the cuddly beasts after my trip to Australia, where I got to hold one. (It felt like holding an over sized bag of cat food with razor sharp claws, to be honest.) Probably not the best pets, but extremely adorable.

Oh, and you're welcome for the dose of koala cuteness for the day. :)

photos: feline days of summer

these aren't very good pictures, but ...

this little bundle of fur poses like a model!

pics are of mr. yawny-pants, i.e. the feline love of my life, ringo.

oy vey, disney!! -- reconsidered

Yes, I will admit it. My last blog attempt was a rather long and irritated anti-Disney rant. I'm sure it was one of those long winded complaints that make some readers roll their eyes and sigh in despair. With all the serious issues going on in the world, I pick the most petty and inconsequential thing to get worked up about. It also didn't help that my ire was so poorly explained. I didn't take the time to really elaborate on anything at all. Upon finishing the post, I knew the piece was so poorly done that I almost deleted the entry. As my finger hovered above the 'delete' key, however, I decided, 'nah. Leave it up.'

And so it stays.

However, I do feel the need to explain my last entry a little better. I didn't present a persuasive or well thought out argument, and I want a second chance to correct that situation. A slightly fuller and more in depth explanation of where I'm coming from would be nice. (And for anyone asking why, well ... why not? It's my blog.) I want to clarify certain points, and to elaborate on others.

To begin with, I realize that Disney is one of those untouchable institutions that most people are afraid to criticize. There are certain things that are held sacred in American life, including, but not limited to, apple pie, baseball and the capitalist dream. Like home baked desserts and Babe Ruth, Disney is embedded deep within the American psyche. Criticizing the House of Mickey Mouse seems a bit unsporting, more than a little unfair and yes, even a bit disloyal. After all, if you are like me (or any typical American middle class kid), Disney was a major part of your childhood. Attacking Donald Duck and co. is like biting the hand that feeds you your first morsels of early fantasy. Even now, there's a part of me that holds a very special spot for some of Disney's great films over the years.

I'm not alone in this association of Disney with fond memories. A few days ago, my boyfriend and I sat down and watched Mary Poppins. There we were, ages 26 and 27, completely absorbed by a movie we had both watched and loved as little kids. We sang along, laughed, and even quoted dialogue from the movie. More importantly, we were completely absorbed into the plot. For a moment in time, our childhoods were recaptured and placed before us on the silver screen. We were innocent again. Or, at any rate, that's how we felt.

But that was the Disney magic of yesteryear, and I'm discussing the Disney of now. While I'm sure the Disney films of today's generation please their young audiences every bit as much, I take issue with the direction that the studio is going in. I am deeply disturbed and disgusted by the corporation's recent decision to turn 'The Diary of Anne Frank' into a cartoon. There are many reasons why, but several really stand out.

To begin with, let me address the idea of commodity. Disney is, and always has been, a commercial enterprise. This is true of any movie studio, of course, but the Disney Corporation has taken the concept of consumerism to a whole new level. The film studio has gone from marketing films to marketing a life style.

When I was younger, children could expect to see a Disney film at the cinema and then, perhaps a few days later, discover a Disney toy in their Happy Meal. Of course there were places like Disney World, but the Walt Disney franchise had yet to make serious inroads into the playrooms and closets of little children.

Today, kids can expect an Happy Meal Toy and much, much more. Disney has discovered ways to brand almost every conceivable item a child could want, and, cunningly, has figured out how to market them mercilessly to kids. There are endless advertisements for the latest Disney movie. There are hundreds of different types of Disney toys to buy, from Mickey Mouse dolls to Hannah Montana lipstick. The toys, of course, are designed to promote whatever the latest Disney film is. If you need proof of this, take a stroll through any toy store the next time a big Disney film comes out. And, of course, there are Disney beach towels, Disney pajamas, Disney hairbrushes and Disney pencils. There are Disney tissue boxes, Disney hats, Disney mugs and Disney books. Everything has become Disnified.

There is no escaping the mammoth hulk of Disney's commercial enterprise. Such aggressive marketing does not suggest that the studio is concerned about making artistic and meaningful movies. Instead, the blatant emphasis on 'Buy Disney' really underscores the fact that the company is interested in making as much profit as possible from as many children as possible. And let's not be too generous here -- children are the target. Hook them in young, and they will remain loyal for life. Cynical? Yes. Accurate? Well, ask any Media Studies professor.

Of course, Disney Studios is not the only one guilty of this. However, I would hold a children's company to a higher standard ... and Disney is, of course, a company aimed at creating products for children. Commercial culture should not have a place among the young. It tends to be a corrupting force, the source of unhappiness and endless economic tribulations. When childhood becomes commodified, what happens to the simple pleasures of learning to play without fancy toys and the latest gadget?

Disney's business plan of taking over the planet does not bode well for a film about the Holocaust. What ridiculous toys and tie-ins will the company come up with in order to push the movie? Are they going to have Anne Frank dolls, complete with diseases and an emaciated body? Are there going to be beach towels emblazoned with Anne Frank, so that children can wipe their chlorine stained bodies all over the face of one of Holland's most important icons? Even if Disney decides to be 'restrained' in their approach to marketing the film, there will certainly be toys, tie-ins and all other manner of ridiculous crap to promote the film. And honestly, no one should be making a profit off of the death of a teenage girl.

There is also the issue of racialization in Disney films. A prime example of this occurs in the film 'Pocahontas,' which was purported to be a politically correct take on the story of John Smith and the Indian girl who saved him. There were so many historical and cultural inaccuracies in that film that it's clear the studio chose to go with what was most appealing and marketable over the truth.

For one thing, Disney didn't get the young Indian princess's name right, which was, at one time, Matoaka. Um, red alert. How can a movie be about a woman when they can't even get her name right? Would they make a movie about John Smith and call it 'Bob Brown?' Instead of referring her to by her given, culturally correct name, they call her something else entirely, thereby stripping her of her individuality and cultural affiliation. While no one is sure where 'Pocahontas' came from, it is not her given, correct title. Names are a powerful force, and by depriving Matoaka of hers, Disney has stripped a powerful woman of her very essence.

Disney's Matoaka was portrayed as a sexually ripe and buxom woman who spent inordinate amounts of time frolicking about in short skirts and skin tight tops. Never mind that this is completely culturally incorrect. While historically inaccurate, depicting Matoaka this way was a bit of an affront as well. The showing of upper legs by women was not routinely done in most traditional North American indigenous cultures. Showing a woman's thigh is almost universally considered taboo among many indigenous groups. For some Native people viewing the movie, seeing Matoaka dressed so inappropriately was akin to calling a legendary Native American woman a prostitute.

I am loathe to see how Disney racializes Anne Frank into a stock Jewish character. Because, yes, stereotypes are all the rage at Disney. (More discussion on that later.) Is Anne going to spout off songs in Yiddish, sigh "oy vey" and make some half truthful remarks about what it means to be Jewish and different? The filmmakers will have to include something stereotypical so that audiences understand Anne is a 'real' Jew. The same thing was done in 'Pocahontas' by making Matoaka make inane comments about the sun and rain. Wow! She knows about nature. She communicates with animals and is one with the forest. She must be a real Indian. I predict something similar will happen to Anne in the Disney film.

With racialization comes sexualization. For example, the film makers at Disney turned Matoaka into a pin-up girl, a fantasy of the animators, with little basis in reality. In fact, Matoaka was thought to be just a young girl when she saved Smith -- if that ever even happened at all. (It's open to debate.) Yet somehow she is presented on screen as a tawny skinned Barbie doll. She wasn't marketable enough as a little girl, so they sexed her up a bit. Sex sells, after all.

The sexualization of female heroines in Disney films is well known, and I can only imagine what Disney will do to Anne Frank. Is she going to develop a Barbie perfect waist-hip ratio, a full set of breasts, and be morphed from child into a hybrid girl-woman? There has yet to be a Disney heroine that has been anything but gorgeous with supermodel perfect body measurements. I don't think Anne Frank needs to be morphed into a Sports Illustrated model.

If anyone thinks this is a one time issue, think again. Disney has a long history of portraying racialized and sexualized stereotypes in their films. Just take a gander at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LibK0SCpIkk and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byaMd_PNyIY&feature=related. While the clips may seem mild, the fact is, over long periods of time, exposed to seemingly harmless stereotypes, children begin to embody the politics of gender and race that Disney continually creates.

There is an amazing documentary about the effects of Disney on young girls. I forget the name of it, but anyway, the film makers interview young children after they have watched a Disney film. Inevitably, the girls want to emulate the looks and behavior of the film heroines. This is sort of a problem when girls want to look like Ariel of 'The Little Mermaid' -- because really, only a cartoon is going to look like that.

There is also the issue of historical gloss. Disney does not have a proud tradition of faithfully sticking to historical accounts. Issues like war, rape, disease and theft are almost always glossed over. This was certainly true in 'Pocahontas', where the entire issue of First Contact was overlooked. It would have been a wonderful chance to teach children about America's early history. Instead, Disney decided to make a film about a romance that probably never even happened in the first place.

I sincerely doubt that Disney is going to find a way to tastefully address issues surrounding the Holocaust in their cartoon version of 'The Diary of Anne Frank'. Are they going to address the camps themselves? I doubt it. How does one create cute and colorful pictures of emaciated Auschwitz victims? How does one create storyboards around gas ovens, forced medical experiments on children, and the evil dictator himself, Hitler? By leaving out major facts of the Holocaust, children will be left with a half baked and poor understanding of one of the world's greatest tragedy. And that, to me, is unforgivable.

I also take issue that the Disney corporation was, for years, run by a well known anti-Semite. This isn't too say the company now is anti-Semitic; however, I feel that a company with a past of anti-Semitism is the wrong place to take on a movie that deals with one of the worst horrors in Jewish history. It's insensitive to say the least, and I think highly inappropriate. I don't think a movie studio known for making black employees feel uncomfortable would do well to suddenly turn around and try to re-make a version of 'Roots.'

Examples abound of Walt's anti-Semitic ways. A former Disney animator, Art Babbitt, once came forward to speak of his former boss's interest in pro-Nazi causes. He was quoted as stating "In the immediate years before the War there was a small, but fiercely loyal ... following of the Nazi party ... Disney was going to meetings all the time." I should add that Disney attended these meetings on a regular basis with his friend and lawyer. He obviously thought well enough of what he was hearing to attend on a regular basis and bring friends along.

Perhaps more damning, in a 1932 cartoon entitled 'The Wayward Canary', Mickey Mouse is seen using a cigarette lighter with a swastika painted on the side. Accident? I think not.

Walt also admired the work of Leni Riefenstahl, who made documentaries in the 1930's that glorified Nazi causes. After 1938, she approached various studies in Hollywood looking for work, and Disney was the only one who would see her. At their meeting, he is known to have told Leni he admired her work, and would hire her ... if only it wouldn't damage his reputation in Hollywood.

Jewish animators in the Disney studio were often the subjects of vicious practical jokes. Adding fuel to the fire, in an original version of 'The Three Little Pigs', the Big Bad Wolf is dressed as a Jewish peddler. Another film, 'The Opry House', has Mickey Mouse dressed as a Hasidic Jew.

Racism and anti-Semitism aside, I would like to address yet another issue raised about my last post. A friend of mine made the valid comment that animation can be used to address serious issues. I thought this was a brilliant point, and I felt like an idiot for overlooking it.

I agree 100% that animation can be a fine vehicle for tackling major issues. 'Waltz With Bashir', 'Persepolis', 'Grave of the Fireflies', and even 'Akira' deal with politically charged and highly relevant issues. From the Iranian Revolution to the bombing of Japan, these films deal in highly artistic, adult and tasteful ways with unsettling and deeply disturbing issues.

However, I emphatically believe that Disney animation is not a vehicle appropriate for such serious topics. What sets Disney apart is the formulaic approach of its films; a sexy heroine that needs rescuing, a naughty (but not overly evil) villain, a young and handsome hero, and some sort of fuzzy animal sidekick. There's also plenty of musical numbers, a vibrant color scheme, and pacing designed to keep the attention spans of young children. Historical evils are glossed over, as are the most basic of cultural facts.

Obviously this is very different from the stark animation styles and realistic treatment of the subject matter found in films such as 'Persepolis.'

In other words, genocide is not a topic for talking animals, song & dance numbers, and comedic interludes. That's about as offensive as making a light hearted family movie about the rape, torture, murder and starvation in Rwanda.

I also feel that young children have no way of comprehending the Holocaust. Their brains cannot wrap around ideas like 'six million deaths', torture, religious persecution and starvation. While every youth on this entire planet should learn about the Holocaust, early childhood is not the time.

The only true way to grasp the idea of the Holocaust - if it is even possible -- is to see the pictures, read the eyewitness accounts, and to try and grasp the aftermath of what wiping out 6 million people has done to humanity.

The Holocaust

Experiments on a Victim

(warning: somewhat graphic imagery)

Children Victims

(disturbing imagery, but not graphic)

Furnaces

Thousands of Discarded Shoes

Evil

(warning: graphic imagery)

Now, having seen those photos, you tell me ...

is Disney the right vehicle to get across the horrors of one of the worst hate crimes in history?

disney, oy vey!!

So, the word on the street is that the Walt Disney Company has supposedly bought the rights to the literary classic 'The Diary of Anne Frank.' The company plans on making a cartoon (yes, I said cartoon) for children based on the book.

Let me just repeat that in case it didn't sink in the first time.

Disney is going to make a cartoon about the Holocaust.

Does anyone else find something terribly, horribly and awfully disturbing/wrong/bizarre about this picture?

I cringe to think of the mockery Disney will make of such an important piece of history. Are they going to make it into a musical? No Disney film is complete without a few song and dance numbers. Is Anne Frank going to have some sort of furry sidekick who sits around with her in their little attic? Is Anne going to be drawn as a buxom maiden with a tiny waist and distinctly non-ethnic features like the dames of Disney past?

I'm still pissed at everyone involved in creating the inaccurate and possibly borderline racist 'Pocahontas', and now they're tackling the topic of a Jewish and Dutch icon who died in a concentration camp? How does one explain 'gas the Jews' and 'death ovens' to little kids? What the hell, Disney?!

To add insult to injury, Walt Disney was a well known anti-semite in his day.

This is a recipe for disaster.

Disney has been spewing out pure crap since Aladdin, but the concept of making an animated film about the Holocaust just about takes the cake. It's so disrespectful, it's beyond the pale.

Disturbingly, the man Disney picked to direct the movie, David Mamet, has said he may "reframe" the original story to make it more about a tale of a young girl's "rite of passage" (quotes from Yahoo! News.)

RITE OF PASSAGE? The girl was 15 when she died. Her goal was survival, not a rite of passage, which suggests she lived on to the adult part of her life. What is WRONG with these people?!

And another thing ... what child can handle learning about the true horrors of the Holocaust? I remember doing a project in school on the topic when I was in 4th grade or so, and it was the first time I ever learned about the evil of humanity. After looking at pages and pages of emaciated camp victims, I felt physically sick. Never in my life had I seen anything as horrible on such a massive scale.

I really don't think small children can handle it. I could barely handle it as a 4th grader ... and children much younger than that attend Disney films.

All in all, this is a terrible idea and David Mamet & Disney are going on my shit list unless I'm proven otherwise. But honestly, I hope this stupid idea never makes it past the planning stages. It smacks of disrespect, anti-semitism and corporate greed.

photo: butterflies, unite

better late than never ...

photos of butterflies at the smithsonian musem of natural history's butterfly pavilion, washington, d.c.

june '09

poor quality because they were taken on my cell phone ... will i ever learn to bring an actual camera with me to these types of places? sigh.

(but aren't they beautiful? what a magical creature to be, even if they live for only a few weeks.)

photo: veggie heaven

today's produce, provided by my organic veggie garden

just rinse the dirt off and yum, fresh food!

please note the massive zucchini, spicy peppers, tiny bell pepper (why won't they grow bigger?) and various cukes. mmmm. veggie heaven.

summer in the backyard

It's evening time and there's a big, fat and juicy moon right outside of my window. I look up, and there she is, peering down at me from her glittering post in the sky. I love summer nights like this, when the air is calm and the moon looms large. There's something so sensual and perfect about the darkness when it is scented with flowers, when you can walk barefoot in the grass and feel a teasing breeze at your back. It's familiar, like a lover, but still unknown, not tested, not yet tried. The evening ahead unfurls like a ribbon of midnight blue, and it's all mine for the taking.

Nights like this remind me of Paris in the summer, of Fraser Island, of far off and warm places. It makes me itch to travel, to feel ocean water at my feet and mountain winds at my back; it makes me eager to explore, to set out, to sail and forge ahead.

But then again ... it also makes me appreciate being home. There's nothing quite like having one's own backyard to sprawl about in. It must be said that one's own garden is a personal kingdom, and I'm rather fond of mine.

I have my vegetable patch, which is yielding a decent harvest this year. Giant zucchini, spicy hot peppers, cucumbers, lettuce, onions and some very jumbo sized tomatoes have sprouted up so far. I'm still waiting on my brussel sprouts and bell peppers to do a little more maturing, but otherwise I'm fairly happy with how the veggies turned out this year.

The herb garden is doing nicely too, with lots of parsley and dill for seasoning. There are some other things growing there as well, but that part of the yard seems to be more of my mother's domain. I leave it alone for the most part, and let my mom rule her patch of the roost. The herb garden is a favorite spot of BrightEyes (my elderly and possibly senile kitty), who likes to curl up and sun on the stones that border the garden. It's a sweet sight for a sweet spot in the yard.

There's my wonderful old spruce tree, and my patches of flowers, mostly in plantings of bright purples and pinks. There's nothing on this earth like the flowers one grows in their own patch of soil. It's a rewarding, comforting feeling that mixes home, love and days of sunshine in one big warm and fuzzy ball of summertime goodness.

So yes, I suppose it is safe to say that I am glad to be home. Even though the nomad in me can't seem to flip the 'off' switch and chill out from wanderlust, the homey-I-love-my-bed part of me is very happy to be tucked away here, in the mountains, in my old house with my old cats and old parents and old tree.

And besides ... where else would I see such a lovely moon tonight?

It's good to be home, even when I'm ready to set out and discover something new for myself.

washington dc trip

Washington D.C. is a humid city, the damp armpit of America. For some reason, I always feel like I suffer an extra dose of heat in the nation's capital. This is probably the reason why, when I hear the name "Washington", the first thought that springs to mind is 'sweaty', and not the more sensible 'politics'.

That said, I do reserve a soft spot in my heart for D.C. I mean, after all, the city is supposed to represent our entire country. Technically, Washington is the spokes city for America. (Which is, admittedly, kind of a scary thought.) I enjoy D.C. because I feel like I'm supposed to, not because it's such a great place. However, this still means I do appreciate the city, even if it's only for a silly reason.

Washington does have some wonderful museums, however. Part of a city's worth lies in its cultural attractions, and D.C. is not lacking in this department. The amount of free and enlightening places to visit in Washington are pretty staggering when one thinks about it. Even good old NYC has less to offer in this realm.

The prospect of spending a few days visiting museums was reason enough for me to come down to the capital last week. My mom invited me along on a business trip, which was nice. (I got to spend some time with her, which was even nicer.)

My first day in Washington, I decided to pay a visit to an old friend: the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. That place is beyond words. I have loved it ever since visiting there as a very young schoolgirl, and my affection for the museum increased after my latest visit. It's free, it has dinosaur bones and the Hope Diamond, hands-on exhibits (touch a meteorite? well, okay, if you insist!), and a live butterfly pavilion.

Naturally, I hit up the dino bones first. Then fossils, mammals, ocean hall, rocks & gems, jewels, hall of western culture, and so on. I literally hit up the entire museum, except for the Africa & Korea wings. (How very un-anthro of me to skip over human culture ... next time.)

The highlight of my trip to the Natural History museum, however, was the butterfly pavilion. It was a bit pricey to enter at $6, but I sucked up the expense. The prospect of walking among fluttering butterflies was too good to pass up.

And, luckily, I was right -- walking among live butterflies is a pretty amazing experience. At any given point, the pavilion is home to dozens of species of flying butters. I even saw a Blue Morpho there!

My next day in DC was spent at the Museum of the American Indian, which was a little off the beaten track but well worth the long walk from the metro station. The exhibits were presented in a fun and interesting manner, and I learned quite a bit. I'm pretty proud of my Native heritage, so it was really special to see the beautiful artwork and ceremonial items of America's original inhabitants.

I also spent some time walking around Alexandria. Typical yuppie community, complete with a Whole Foods Market and lots of buttoned up executive types texting orders to mere peons like me on their Blackberries.

All in all, a good trip.

And now ... it's off to Canada tomorrow, to visit the beautiful sights of Quebec!

gardening is my zen

I love this time of year. The sunshine, the soft spring breezes, the flowers and sweet smelling soil. Few things in life are as fine as sitting on soft grass in the sunshine, with a good book and a plump kitty cat to keep you company.

This spring I have really started taking gardening seriously, and have invested a lot of my mom's money (ha, sorry mom) into a vegetable garden. Currently I'm growing onions, hot peppers, sweet peppers, brussel sprouts (kind of gross, but my dad wanted them), zucchini, cucumber and tomatoes. The garden has a pretty border of wild purple flowers and mint. My mom keeps telling me the purple flowers are weeds and to yank them all up, but I'm loathe to do so -- purple is, after all, my favorite color, and seeing the colorful flowers all around my veggies is so nice!

My mom has put together a garden of her own, consisting mainly of herbs. I'm not sure of everything she's growing, but I do know we have cilantro, parsley, basil and dill. We also have a lovely rhubarb growing, and tons of flowers. We have everything from lilacs to columbines, fuschias to verbena daisies. Love them all!

The back deck has become home to an assortment of potted flowers and a bed of lettuce. (Yes, I wrote lettuce!) So, all in all, not a bad haul. I love going out there with a book and just sitting with the flowers, basking in all the reds, yellows and purples we have growing everywhere. Few things in this life make me happy as healthy, magnificent plants.

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting on the back deck with my mother. I don't remember everything we were chatting about -- she was probably nagging me to do some errand or chore that I've typically left undone for the past month. (Does it qualify as nagging if it's taken me so long to do? Hmm ...) At any rate, seeing how pretty the yard looked with all the flowers, I told my mom about my fond memories of my time at the Brisbane Botanical Gardens last summer in Australia. The flowers there were magnificent.

Later on, my mom came home with a box full of one of the types of flowers I saw in Australia. I'll have to look up the name of them. But oh, I was so happy! I am planning on planting them today, somewhere sunny and warm where everyone driving by will see them.

In other news, I've been performing a fair bit and teaching a little. I've put together a nice quartet, and we play a wide variety of music. We cover everything from classical (Schubert, Satie) to oldies (Sinatra, The Beatles) to the strange and unusual (Stravinsky, Star Trek) to everything in between! I'm also performing with the very talented Mark Woodyatt, a violinist and mandolin player. I think he's my favorite person in the world to perform with, even though we argue like cats and dogs during rehearsals!

I'm considering getting a cruise ship job or similar work this autumn, and just cruising around and getting paid to play until I go off to grad school. The money is very good on cruise ships, and it's a good way to travel for free ... not to mention, it's the perfect way to force myself to practice every day!!

Now off to dream of the South Pacific as I read my way through a Paul Theroux travelogue and try to avoid doing too much work -- this weather makes me lazy, content and at peace.

photo: springtime

april showers bring may flowers.
taken on my cell phone camera.

kind of a cute post

City Related Bits & Pieces:

You must check out tweenbots. "Human-dependant robots" that "navigate the city with the help of pedestrians," these little guys have renewed my faith in humanity. Well, okay, I wouldn't go that far, but let's just put it this way -- New Yorkers are way nicer than may initially appear. This website proves what I've been telling people for years.

Then, visit this wonderful short video to hear some New Yorkers tell their tales. The video features talking suitcases, telephones and newspaper boxes. It all works for an incredibly cute look at life in the big NYC. Check it out and see what I mean.

Then, to finish off today's post of cute and kind-of-cute things in NYC, this fake subway advisory is pretty funny ... if you've lived in NYC, that is. Not cute, but still made me laugh.

southern special

Spring has sprung!

Well, not exactly. Alas, my dearest wish may be for warmth and sunshine, but right now, the weather is being quite uncooperative. There are fat flakes of snow falling down and past my window, dribbling from the sky like some sort of seasonal baby drool. The sky is overcast, and there's certainly no sunshine to be seen for miles. Perhaps the saddest thing are the flowers -- any plants that decided to bloom are probably regretting any hastily made decisions.

However, I can keep telling myself spring has sprung for the very reason that it has ... in other parts of the country, anyway. While I may be geographically deprived and forced to reside in the land of snow, at least I can cheer myself up with the glowing fact that it is very warm and very sunny in some part of the USA right now.


For almost the entire first week of April I was in one of the more balmy regions of the country. I spent five days in warm and lovely North Carolina, a state very dear to me and a place I was very happy to pass some time in.


I was there to present a lecture at an academic conference being held at one of the University of North Carolina schools. It was a very big opportunity for me to showcase my research and start making a name for myself in the scholarly community. Luckily, everything went smoothly and my presentation was well received.


I was very nervous about presenting in front of an audience who were largely more educated and better known than me; I was the only person to present without a PhD or a fat stack of dissertation notes. Some of the lecturers were from institutions such as Harvard, while others were affiliated with other top name schools, like UNC Chapel Hill. (By the way: YEAH TARHEELS!!!!!!!!!!) So the credentials of the various conference speakers were intimidating enough, without bringing up the question of how in the hell did I get picked to speak when I'm not even in a graduate program yet? But then again, my research is solid, I speak well, and I'm not going to question fate when it has been kind to me.

While I was very thrilled with the reception of my lecture, and happy to have met so many interesting and educated people, the conference was only a part of my high spirits. Just being home, in a state I know well and love, was a good enough feeling to literally put some pep in my step. (I can't believe I just used the world's most cliched phrase. But it works. So go with it.) The weather was bright, sunny and almost 80 degrees on a daily basis. I actually got a tan just walking outside.

Knowing the particular corner of the state I was in quite well, I had some must-dos to cross off on my While-In-NC list. One was eating at a childhood favorite of mine, Smithfield BBQ. You have not tasted heaven until you have eaten the bbq here, tasted their sweet tea, and indulged in enough hush puppies to sink a freighter. I literally demanded that my friend drive there, even though it was out of our way. Luckily, my friend gamely followed my sort-of-lame directions, and ended up loving the fried shrimp at Smithfield BBQ. I ate the regular bbq platter and it was truly fried, dripping, steaming perfection.

And let me just tell you this: it was every bit as good as I remembered. Maybe even better. How rarely that happens, and how nice when it does.

I also had to eat some other southern staples in NC that are hard to find up north. So, I managed to gobble up some required foods that I love and never get to eat:
fried okra, collard greens and pork + hot sauce, green beans and salted pork, fried chicken and gallons upon gallons of sweet tea.

I did have one grand disappointment. I wanted to stop off at a Chick-Fil-A before I left for the frozen tundra of the north. However, I forgot that the chain is always closed on Sundays -- and had designated Sunday as my day to go eatat Chik-Fil-A. So, major bummer, I did not get the tasty fried golden nuggets of goodness and waffle fries that I so dearly love. I survived the depression that followed, but my stomach and taste buds were angry with me for the entire rest of the day. A golden opportunity missed, simply because I forgot southern fast food chains do things like close on Sundays. Oops.
All this discussion of food has made me hungry. I just peeked outside of my bedroom window in order to distract myself from my growling stomach. It looks like the snow has stopped. I'm sure it's still bitter cold outside, and the sun hasn't shown itself today, but still ... I keep thinking that Spring has sprung.

Here's hoping that it actually has ... and that PA will get a nice place to eat Carolina style BBQ. And a Chick-Fil-A.

squeaking weeds

It's been a long time.

Spring is ever-so-slightly in the air. There's a suggestion of warmer days to come, of longer and sunnier afternoons. Little seedlings are starting to poke their heads out of the soil, and flocks of geese are flying overhead. Life feels hopeful, happy, optimistic.

The trees are still stripped of their leaves; however, their bare branches don't seem so skeletal anymore. They have somehow filled out, plumper and stouter than usual. Flowers are beginning to warm up to the idea of budding. Squirrels are running around like mad, making chattering noises and crunching twigs under their tiny feet. Kids are back outside, yelling and screaming in the delight of playing tag. Trees may still be leafless, but there is no doubt a new season is about to enter in from the wings.

The coming spring has prompted me to get back outdoors and begin playing in the sun again. I'm in the early stages of clearing land for a soon-to-be organic vegetable garden. My earlier efforts at fire escape gardening have evolved into something a lot larger and dirtier. (Literally: soil gets on everything.)

I was outside earlier today, raking out debris and turning over soil to scoop up weeds and grass. There was a layer of frost still, just under the soil, a sort of cobwebby-but-crunchy white crust enshrouding the underskin of the earth. Little budlets were precariously stretching out their roots, despite the frost. It was very sweet and sad at the same time, seeing how fragile life really is.

Because it was cold out (and also because having dirt under your nails sucks), I had on a pair of latex gloves. I felt a little stupid, out there in the dirt with a pair of doctor's gloves on, but I couldn't find any other pair. My mom supposedly has a pair around somewhere, but I still haven't found them. Anyway, the latex gloves were better than nothing. They kept the dirt off my fingers, but didn't block out the freezing cold air.

The significance of the gloves is that they kept squeaking. At first, I thought the weeds that were being pulled up were making noises. I'd never heard of plants squeaking when you lifted them out of the ground by their roots, but then again, I'd never heard that plants didn't make sound, either.I shrugged off the noises and figured it had to be due to the cold. Perhaps they were still frozen, and this made them sound like a rusty hinge for some reason. Every time a plant seemed to squeak, however, it felt like a protest. I began to feel terribly guilty pulling up all those weeds. They were squeaking at me like a band of angry squirrels, and I couldn't help but feel a little berated.

Eventually I realized it was my gloves that were squeaking, and not, in fact, talkative rooted lifeforms.

Needless to say, this made me very relieved.

i like ...

Every now and then some sweeping fad hits the internet. I, ever quick to jump on the Useless-Crap-That's-Fun-Anyway bandwagon, have become rather fond the latest, most ridiculous cyber novelty.

It's called 'Cornify' and all it does is add sparkly unicorns, rainbows and glitter to otherwise boring and plain websites. Basically, it's the fantasy of an eight year and a queeny gay man all mixed up into one little internet package.


Try it out by clicking on the cornify button below:






Remember, the more times you click, the cornier this webspace will get.

a new york pictorial

Two days ago, on the New York Times website, an interesting piece ran that truly summarized life in the Big Apple. With a series of poignant images, Christoph Niemann boiled down the essence of what it means to be a New Yorker.

I was completely charmed, and I think you might be too if you take a look.

Here is a link to the article: http://niemann.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/02/i-lego-ny/

appendix in revolt

I do not recommend having a medical emergency.

At all.

It should be pretty obvious why I feel this way. There's the whole pain factor. The expense. The stress, time and worry. The fear. And, of course, the not-so-minor issue of spending time in the hospital.

Not good things.

The reason I bring this topic up is because I had a medical malady of my own last week. And yes, it involved great expense, time, pain and, of course, worry.

It all began last Tuesday evening. I had been fine all day, but shortly after dinner, I found myself with a belly full of fire. Literally. A raging and internal fire. The area around my belly button was burning so badly that I eventually had to curl up in a fetal position. It was the absolute worst pain I've ever experienced, and very similar to the torturous feeling I had felt previously before heading over to the Emergency Room. (I've had two previous visits with the same symptoms.)

Then I started throwing up.

And I didn't stop.

And then there started to be a little blood in the vomit, and I couldn't take the pain anymore ...

anyway, enough of the gory details. Let's just say I wound up in the hospital, and the doctors there decided to keep me overnight. The very next morning, at 6am, a surgeon strolled in to my semi-private hospital room to politely inform me I was lined up for surgery ASAP. In fact, would I be willing to go under the knife that very morning?

To make a long story short, my appendix was removed. (Thanks a lot, appendix, for malfunctioning and causing me a lot of grief. I'm glad we got a divorce.)

Three ugly incisions later, some more time spent in the hospital, and after enough morphine to knock out a horse, I was discharged and shipped home.

Which is where I have been ever since, recovering from the very uncomfortable feeling of having had my belly region sliced up three times and pumped full of air.

Not good things.

I've finally started feeling well enough to start complaining and getting irritable, which means I must be on the mend. While lounging all day in bed does have its benefits, they are largely outweighed by the pain factor and the fact that I don't have a choice in the matter -- I have to be doing this.

So, anyway. That's the latest news in my life. I do have a big piece of info about my academic career, but I'll save that for another post. It's worthy of its own blog entry.

Be well, and don't explode your appendix if you can at all avoid it.

a minor complaint

I guess that

this

is what it means to be 'grown up',

to

always feel a little alone,

that

no one else can save you or clean up your messes.

To be an adult

is

to shoulder the burden of a thousand responsibilities

and to

feel guilty when you're having too much fun.

***

Question: Is this how it's always going to be?

Answer: I want my childhood back.

matrix kitten

Few things in life are better than:

A kitten & puppies play fighting to the sounds of 'The Matrix' soundtrack:




or

baby meerkats coming out of their burrows for the first time:

go here to see!

dead bird

What a sad little thing you are, your wings clipped with ice and your legs sticking straight up and towards the sky. Your unmoving eyes are frozen shut, cold and unseeing in the swirl of the snowy winter air.

What a pathetic, hopeless sight you make. A tiny little creature, plump bellied and stiff legged, exposed and prone. You rest there on your final perch, flipped over on your back, mute and deaf.

It is a sad thing to see how dejected a creature looks when it has frozen to death.

Looking at you, I can see first hand how cruel winter really is, how difficult it is to manage the long and merciless nights. How hard it is to make ends meet, to find a warm place to nest for the coldest hours. And God knows, that in this weather, these past few evenings of temperatures in the range of ten below zero, staying alive is not an adequate word. 'Survival' is.

Survival. What a wretched word, but a glorious one, too. The difficulties, the pain and the suffering, the amazing highs and the bitter lows; this is to survive and be an adult.

It's a human problem, shrunk down and molded to the animal condition. Encapsulated in the form of a tiny finch, a sad, pathetic, and very dead little bird.

You, little creature, are my frozen metaphor for the harsh realities of winter.

arovane vs sufjan stevens

The Aussie blog has been updated. Go take a lookey if you're interested.

It's funny how the New Year has been stirring up travel lust in me. The urge to get up and just go somewhere has been overwhelming lately. I find myself watching the travel channel and reading travel memoirs in large quantities lately. (I normally never watch television.) I keep checking travel websites obsessively, looking for an affordable vacation to go on. I don't know what it is, but ever since Australia, traveling has gotten under my skin. When can I get up and go again?!

Speaking of travel, I watched a comedy the other night (thank you, Netflix) that was a very accurate take on culture shock in India. The film is called 'Outsourced' and had some very realistic depictions of everyday urban life in India. I loved it. It reminded me of my travels in that beautiful country, and all the funny mishaps I had as an American. Everything from going to the toilet (oh my god, it's just a hole in the ground!) to being followed by curious Indians was covered. I chuckled and even laughed at parts, because it reminded me so much of my own travels.

Which, by the way, is wonderful. Culture shock is invigorating. I mean, after you get over the 'dear mother of God, what is going ON?!' aspect of it. I don't think I've actually had true chill-me-to-my-bones culture shock, but the first time you squat over a dirty and dismal hole in the ground to go to the bathroom with no toilet paper, you start to respect the term 'cultural values.'

In other news, I've been listening to a lot of music lately ... of course. I guess it's part of my job description as a musician. I've been re-discovering old Cd's of mine. 'Atol Scrap' by Arovane has been dusted off and put on constant repeat. You need a good sound system for it, but what a sophisticated, genuine example of electronic music. I also listened to that oldie by Sufjan Stevens, 'Enjoy Your Rabbit'. That recording is a prime example of folksy electronic. I'm not sure there's any other way to describe it. It's vintage Sufjan, before he ever became the Mr. Stevens. It's not sophisticated the way 'Atol Scrap' is, but for an old recording (2001) it's surprisingly well done.

On the same topic ... would anyone else agree that Michael Jackson started going downhill during the 'Bad' years? 'Thriller' and 'Off the Wall' are such classic gold standards of Quincy Jones production, but then 'Bad', another Jones produced album, sort of slacks off. I was disappointed while re-listening to that record.

So, I think that's all there is to report for now. I mean, obviously there's more going on in my life than Michael Jackson and 'Outsourced', but I never feel comfortable posting about overly personal things online. So, I feed you the scraps of my life instead. :)

Have a safe and happy weekend.