At the prompting of Nate, who made the car ride much nicer, and wrote them down whilst I drove.

We found them this weekend while cleaning the house. Exciting.

I can remember
in 9th grade
receiving my paper.

All graded and returned,
the pages bloodied with red ink,
its lifeless frame limp in my hands.

My poor paper.

So vibrant and full of life
had returned from the battle
only to be buried in my writing folder...

I don't seem to put as much labour into my work as my friends do.

Nevertheless, I'm satisfied with what I do.

And that makes me worry.

(beep)

Sometimes the radio is annoying.

And I can never get the heat just right.

It's times like these when I'm driving in the car and you are sitting next to me that I feel that I could drive to the horizon (given proper rest stops) and sometimes beyond it.

I've always wondered what the place where the sun goes looks like.

I've always imagined that it's the ocean.

Have you ever been to the ocean?

I have.

I've seen the sun slide into it.

Sort of like those blue tablets you put in your toilet to make the water blue when you flush it.

Only the sun doesn't make the water red... at least not all the way.

We should go there - just you and me - and watch the sun set into the ocean.

But what I really wanna see is the sun wake up and come out of the ocean, like a beach ball that you just can't hold under water any longer, and it will shoot into the sky with a splash.

At least that's what I imagine.

So maybe I really don't wanna see it 'cause I don't think it really does that.

However, I'm sure the show it does put on is equally fantastic.

(needs picture of little sprite and his toes)

* My poetic husband wrote "summoned to" but I probably meant "some onto." That's what you get when you're a poet.

You doubt?

Well here it is, ponder it and weep with longing:

Jack Black (HARPSICHORD)
Janis Joplin (MOST MASSIVE CHURCH ORGAN EVER ASSEMBLED)
Wesley Willis (LEAD VOCALIST)
Mel Torme (BACKGROUND VOCALS and COWBELL)
Shakira (BACKGROUND VOCALS and TAMBOURINE)
William H. Macy (RECORDER)

Why these instruments, why these people? Well, for starters, the instruments are not the kind of instruments you would normally see in a band, but they all have one thing in common: A sort of grating dissonance. And if these instruments are played to their fullest potential, that dissonance will eventually lead to hidden harmonies, new and moving sounds that have never been conceived before.

The key of course is that each instrument is played full-out, with passion and with purpose. This is a band of heart and intensity, not a band of skill and "timing".

Imagine if you will, the first shrill note from William H. Macy's recorder. He plays with a stillness and concentration that rocks you like nightmare. Just one note, long as a river, scratching at your soul. Then, as you are about to lose your sanity, a tambourine chimes in and Shakira begins to hum and yodel. The power and beauty of her voice begin to entrance you, for a moment you are drawn only to her. The recorder fades into the background, it now begins to sound like a distant cry for help, perhaps irritating, but somehow forgivable against the soft rain of the tambourine. Then the jarring sound of a cowbell, impossibly loud--suddenly your head is ringing. In between clanks you hear a rich voice speak-singing in hushed tones, and although you want to laugh at it, it intrigues you, and so lean in and listen. Somehow, Mel Torme seems to be reciting the most beautiful poems ever conceived, but you can't quite make them out amongst the other noise. That noise increases tenfold as Jack Black starts getting down on the harpsichord. He is oblivious to everything, rocking out like a mountain of soul. His harpsichord somehow sounds like an electric guitar and it begins smoking beneath his rampaging fingers. As the smoke begins cloud the stage Wesley Willis kicks in with the vocals. Shouting with a strained intensity you have only seen in professional wrestlers, screaming profanities that you never knew existed. He is instantly a sweaty mess. Shakira's tambourine and Torme's cowbell seem to be competing now. Her yodeling intensifies as she tries to lend her support to Willis' now incoherent vocals. Torme still seems to be talking, but you can't tell if it's part of the song or if he's talking to his cowbell, which he is shaking violently and at an impossible pace. You look to see what William H. Macy is up to, but suddenly all your senses are rendered hapless. When you regain your vision you see Janis Joplin at the massive organ in state of frenzied. You bravely take your hands off of your ears only to be bombarded with a ten lifetimes of pain. Mercifully, the organ ceases, Joplin is now content to only sway to the music. Suddenly you think you can make out the sound of a crude drum...scanning the stage you find the source: Wesley Willis has wandered over to Jack Black and his harpsichord; The two of them are headbutting each other rapidly and with increasing force. And then, in a flash the song falls into complete shambles and hiccups its way to bumbling conclusion. Torme drops his cowbell on Shakira's foot, she just stops singing. Joplin stops swaying. Willis and Black get tired of headbutting each other and lose their inspiration. The noise has stopped, except for the ringing in your ears which you doubt will ever go away. Wait...is that your ears ringing or is it...YES! It's William H. Macy, as still as ever, on the recorder, still playing the same note! He finally stops playing and grins at you. The other band members are amazed at his breath control and all rush to congratulate him. And in that moment, you see such joy and beauty... it brings you to tears.

-Bahá'u'lláh
Tablets of Bahá'u'lláh p 174

I am shifting into being called "elizabeth" rather than "liz," although I don't think that will ever be a complete change. It's okay to call me liz, but to the new people I meet, I will introduce myself as elizabeth.

We'll see how that works out. Luckily, I can change my mind if I want to!

The worst part about it is that I could totally find things to fill my time with - real things, too, not simply fluff - like homework and back work and things like that. And I won't get everything done.

But it was either stay up all night tonight and get a little ahead so that I can sleep this week or stay up late every night this week.

Holy Goodness!

I went to the doctor and he asked me if I was stressed out and I said are you kidding me? This is college!

No moose, but apparantly they have them...

Nate climbing the snow piled in Denali

Mountains

Birch trees (I got snowed for this photo)

1. Caffeine in one of its myriad of manifestations - coffee, tea, coke, and chocolates.

2. Running around your house and/or block a few times. With no pants on - that should get your adrenaline flowing.

3. Crank calls.

4. Distracting yourself from your primary task by convincing yourself that your CD collection really does need a new filing system (alphabetization is so last year).

5. Speed.

6. Propping your eyelids up with little stilts that you've cleverly fashioned out of toothpicks and cotton balls.

and finally, my favorite (this one really is a classic):

7. Going to bed and convincing yourself that you'll have enough time to finish it in the morning.

How about you? Any other ideas?

Today I went to the Eastern Illinois Food bank with the National Interfaith Day of Youth Service. We sorted out shampoos and stuff that been donated, mostly by the companies themselves because the bottles were broken or whatnot.

Which meant that a perfectly good case of shampoos would be considered donateable because one bottle got out of hand and caked its fragrant contents all over the other bottles and the boxes. So we sorted them out and broke down the boxes.

Which meant we got a lot of shampoo and soaps on our hands. So there was a mixed feeling of "eww" and "mmm, this smells good" from the participants.

It's sort of a paradox - dirty soap?

The bike was actually in pretty good condition for $7. The only thing that was amiss was that it was old - the rubber on the brakes, for instance, had hardened the way an old pencil eraser does. It will still erase, but you really have to chew at it to get a good grip.

I was riding my bike to class one day, and I entered campus. This was great, because although no vehicle traffic was allowed, the students pretty much stuck to the sidewalks still, and I could have free use of the street. I would plan ahead and scan the crowd to see if there was any interesting movement that signified a crossing pedestrian, and I was pretty good at it.

There was a little dip in the road right before a big hill, and I usually took that as fast as I could to pick up speed for the hill. I was heading down this dip and had found a spot in the crossing foot traffic to pass through, when a fellow suddenly decided he needed to be going the other way. I hit my hard eraser brakes with all my might, but it was too little too late. I ran right into the guy, and not only that, my front tire went right between his legs, hitting, what I presume, was a rather sensitive area.

We both stopped and I began to apologise profusely. I asked him if he was all right and he said he was, but I can't help thinking that he was only trying to save face in front of everyone. I felt awful.

Needless to say, I check my bike brakes every so often. It's not happened again, but my record with bikes isn't the greatest. I need to keep it careful.

School is starting and so I am taking a sabbatical from blog-land. I should return periodically, but won't have much going on here for at least a month or two.

Until then, you should check out the weblogs listed to the left
<------
which are infinitely awesome!

love,

~liz