this week
...
Part I
:
this week...
- got plane ticket for japan
- took first japanese lessons (learned difference between hiragana, katagana, kanji and made first flashcards since the "matthew arnold" and "victorian age" cards for brit lit ii sophomore year of college)
- spent more than $100 on japanese books in hopes of facilitating learning japanese
- rediscovered fashion (fashion!) with silk fish print skirt and green 'luau' dress at anthropologie (which i couldn't justify buying, but felt good trying on and knowing that, somewhere out there - at anthropologie, actually - such clothing exists)
- got digital camera
- heard from donna for the first time since she arrived in africa: 'arrived safely in nouakchott (new-ock-shot), mauritania last night at 3:00 am from casablanca. casablanca was beautiful. ... everyone has been wonderful so far'
- learned that common murres lay their eggs directly on the rock and don't have nests
- watched bald eagle scatter murres as it flew over chapman point, presumably looking for eggs
- had left coast siesta burrito
-
i got the Fourth of July off. ... went downtown to watch parade and brought digital camera to practice using it. pre-parade flyover featured two f-15s which were sleek and black and super-sonic and flying below the clouds. i don't have the time to do to it justice now, but there was something chilling about the flyover. i was walking down Hemlock Street, camera in hand, smiling at the dogs with flag-themed kerchiefs tied around their necks and children with face paint and headbands with red white and blue pinwheels, and then these planes swooped down. I looked up and then looked to the right across the street and saw a group sitting on white wooden adorandiak style chairs waiting for the parade to start. and it occured to me in a way that it never had before how innocent, how naive most of us are - that i've never seen before that the america that researched, developed, invested in and built those planes for war is just as much a reality as those red, white and blue-clad families. And those planes, those planes which were made for war, are as much a part of our country as those dogs in red, white and blue and tri-colored taffy. Those planes, and the supremacy they represent, are what makes the parades and the strawberry shortcake possible - what makes it possible for me to sit here on my couch with the lights on and wireless internet connected and music playing and be full and comfortable and type whatever ill-constructed thoughts come to me. And how often we don't think of that. How often that's hidden. And how many people across the world think of those planes and that superimposed power - not the smiling people lined up along the street with their families to celebrate together - when they think of america. how many people see those planes and don't know why they're flying and are afraid, rather than inspired by that power, because they've seen planes like them cause harm before. maybe that's part of what people talk about when they talk about recognizing soldiers for the sacrifices they made - not necessarily just the first (and very substantial) things that come to mind: their families, their careers, and, good god, their safety and their lives. But also, they sacrifice that vision of America (assumes the person who has never once considered becoming a military member in her life and really has no idea) as a place that is innocent, instead of the knock-down, alpha wolf, inspirer of fear that we have had to be to pursue our (sometimes altruistic, sometimes not) goals in the world. Drove up to Seaside to watch fireworks on Monday night, and on the way home, a song with the chorus "how can we dance when the world is burning?" (or something similar) came on. i understand that, but at the same time if we don't dance, if we don't celebrate, if we're not joyful, then we're abandoning a part of our country that is good. and if we abandon what's good, then all that's left is bad. but that train of thought may be a self-justifying cop out for someone who feels guilty about not paying enough attention to the world and not doing anything to try to change what she knows is wrong. so, um, yeah, after that i took pictures of the parade and got some taffy, a sour lemon ball and some red, white and blue beads from throwers aboard floats.
on another note (or, "Part II")
:
i heard a cover of bob dylan's 'to ramona' on the radio on the way home tonight, and then the final part of scorese's dylan documentary was on the television when i got home. i forget sometimes how much i love bob dylan.
some thoughts/things overheard:
they showed a clip from joan baez as she was being interviewed and was talking about how most everyone is 'hopelessly passive' - checking with 'mommy' or 'daddy' or school teacher or clergy or senator or president before they decide what they think and/or believe.
dylan by 'protest against the rising tide of conformity' poster
documentary included showing copy of the billboard chart that read like this:
1. Help
2. Like a Rolling Stone
3. California Dreamin'
4. Unchained Melody
what a time to be alive.
line overheard in dylan documentary: 'i'd dance with you, maria, but my hands are on fire.' (as quoted by a woman - maria something, apparently - after dylan's electric performance at 1965 newport folk festival)
'Yet there's no one to beat you, no one to defeat you, except the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.' - 'to ramona'
Part I
:
this week...
- got plane ticket for japan
- took first japanese lessons (learned difference between hiragana, katagana, kanji and made first flashcards since the "matthew arnold" and "victorian age" cards for brit lit ii sophomore year of college)
- spent more than $100 on japanese books in hopes of facilitating learning japanese
- rediscovered fashion (fashion!) with silk fish print skirt and green 'luau' dress at anthropologie (which i couldn't justify buying, but felt good trying on and knowing that, somewhere out there - at anthropologie, actually - such clothing exists)
- got digital camera
- heard from donna for the first time since she arrived in africa: 'arrived safely in nouakchott (new-ock-shot), mauritania last night at 3:00 am from casablanca. casablanca was beautiful. ... everyone has been wonderful so far'
- learned that common murres lay their eggs directly on the rock and don't have nests
- watched bald eagle scatter murres as it flew over chapman point, presumably looking for eggs
- had left coast siesta burrito
-
i got the Fourth of July off. ... went downtown to watch parade and brought digital camera to practice using it. pre-parade flyover featured two f-15s which were sleek and black and super-sonic and flying below the clouds. i don't have the time to do to it justice now, but there was something chilling about the flyover. i was walking down Hemlock Street, camera in hand, smiling at the dogs with flag-themed kerchiefs tied around their necks and children with face paint and headbands with red white and blue pinwheels, and then these planes swooped down. I looked up and then looked to the right across the street and saw a group sitting on white wooden adorandiak style chairs waiting for the parade to start. and it occured to me in a way that it never had before how innocent, how naive most of us are - that i've never seen before that the america that researched, developed, invested in and built those planes for war is just as much a reality as those red, white and blue-clad families. And those planes, those planes which were made for war, are as much a part of our country as those dogs in red, white and blue and tri-colored taffy. Those planes, and the supremacy they represent, are what makes the parades and the strawberry shortcake possible - what makes it possible for me to sit here on my couch with the lights on and wireless internet connected and music playing and be full and comfortable and type whatever ill-constructed thoughts come to me. And how often we don't think of that. How often that's hidden. And how many people across the world think of those planes and that superimposed power - not the smiling people lined up along the street with their families to celebrate together - when they think of america. how many people see those planes and don't know why they're flying and are afraid, rather than inspired by that power, because they've seen planes like them cause harm before. maybe that's part of what people talk about when they talk about recognizing soldiers for the sacrifices they made - not necessarily just the first (and very substantial) things that come to mind: their families, their careers, and, good god, their safety and their lives. But also, they sacrifice that vision of America (assumes the person who has never once considered becoming a military member in her life and really has no idea) as a place that is innocent, instead of the knock-down, alpha wolf, inspirer of fear that we have had to be to pursue our (sometimes altruistic, sometimes not) goals in the world. Drove up to Seaside to watch fireworks on Monday night, and on the way home, a song with the chorus "how can we dance when the world is burning?" (or something similar) came on. i understand that, but at the same time if we don't dance, if we don't celebrate, if we're not joyful, then we're abandoning a part of our country that is good. and if we abandon what's good, then all that's left is bad. but that train of thought may be a self-justifying cop out for someone who feels guilty about not paying enough attention to the world and not doing anything to try to change what she knows is wrong. so, um, yeah, after that i took pictures of the parade and got some taffy, a sour lemon ball and some red, white and blue beads from throwers aboard floats.
on another note (or, "Part II")
:
i heard a cover of bob dylan's 'to ramona' on the radio on the way home tonight, and then the final part of scorese's dylan documentary was on the television when i got home. i forget sometimes how much i love bob dylan.
some thoughts/things overheard:
they showed a clip from joan baez as she was being interviewed and was talking about how most everyone is 'hopelessly passive' - checking with 'mommy' or 'daddy' or school teacher or clergy or senator or president before they decide what they think and/or believe.
dylan by 'protest against the rising tide of conformity' poster
documentary included showing copy of the billboard chart that read like this:
1. Help
2. Like a Rolling Stone
3. California Dreamin'
4. Unchained Melody
what a time to be alive.
line overheard in dylan documentary: 'i'd dance with you, maria, but my hands are on fire.' (as quoted by a woman - maria something, apparently - after dylan's electric performance at 1965 newport folk festival)
'Yet there's no one to beat you, no one to defeat you, except the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.' - 'to ramona'
posted by kathy at 1:57 PM
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