Road trip

View Larger Map

The road trip-- it is the symbolic act of chasing the American Dream. When you go to Europe, you go back packing. When you go to South America, you bike. Australia, a walkabout. Africa, a safari. America, it is the road trip. It was America that put the auto into mass-production. Thousands of miles of highway, by sea, through desert, over mountain's majesty. Over the river and through the woods. For this, Americans also produce more waste, more carbon emissions, more smog, and we have the rear ends to show for it.

*(Now there are hybrid cars and developments in biodiesel, all of which sounds like a mistake to me. I vote for more solar cars with better batteries, and maybe they run on dirty shower water or something. Temporarily, I think all Americans should be required to drive cars that burn CO2 into O2 to offset all our other gluttons. But I digress...)*

So I am about to embark on a mini-trip. What to bring, what to take, what to think... Which museums to go to? Where to find WiFi connections?

Another version of the story

Here is another article written by my college. Please disregard the photo though. It was taken against my will!
And another.
The local paper wrote something up on Tuesday, but they do not post their articles online, nor do they archive their briefs. Missed opportunity.
It's old news already. That's okay. There are all these big, terrible things happening in the world.

On the Banks of the Wabash-- that didn't really happen

I have this saying I like to use in a joking manner, whenever you see t.v. or movies give you obvious foreshadowing-- "This can only end in tears." But I wouldn't think that in real life, no sir, never. But you wouldn't believe what did actually happen yesterday, and everything miraculously turned out all right. For a moment, I did think it. My brain whispered, "This can only end...", and I had to say, "Shh. I'm busy right now."

Which is probably why I am convinced it couldn't have possibly happened-- no one is this lucky.

We are still parsing the information. More soon. Let's say, we made the cover of the local section of the paper. And the grass is very green today. The sky is very blue.

link to music to accompany this post

wildflower medly

what spring means

Imagine when this was significant, when it meant work would be hard, and food would be plentiful.

Now it's plentiful all the time, and makes people miserable.

Click for texture.

Blogging Kitsch.

I know my faithful readers are entertained by my entries, but would like to know more about the woman behind the art. I would like to speak directly to them and answer some of their questions.

What are you reading right now?
I am reading several books right now, depending on which room I am in, how much stamina I have, and what mood I am in. These include:

• "Montgomery County Remembers" by Constance Riggs
• "Montgomery County: Legends and Lore" by Pat Cline
• "Freckles" by Gene Stratton-Porter
• "Life, Death, and the Ladies Drill Team" by Jessamyn West
• "Memories: 1816-1916" by Bina Thomson Sarver
• "Work, for the Night is Coming" by Jared Carter
• "Plain Talk" by Carol Burke
• "Making a performance : devising histories and contemporary practices" by Emma Govan

I just finished

• "Girl of the Limberlost" by Gene Stratton-Porter
• "The Witch Diggers" by Jessamyn West
• "After the Rain" by Jared Carter

What did you do today?
Excellent question. I bought cat food, drove to work (for the first time in a long time-- it was raining and I was running late), met with a student about their summer photo project, ordered Photoshop CS3 (I'm behind, I know), scanned negatives, made some (large) prints, came home, returned some library books and picked up some new ones, made dinner, then watched the movie "300." I gathered some files for my website, but will not be updating it for a few more days. I skimmed some of my favorite blogs: Dooce, Go Fug Yourself, Boing Boing, Tree Hugger, and We Make Money Not Art. I am too lazy, however, to make the links for you. They are easy enough to find.

What is the most recent camera you used?
I used a scanner to make images of negatives. I think that counts. It is an Epson Expression 10000.

What music are you listening to right now?
I just bought the "Rihanna" album on iTunes. I just want to say, please don't stop the music.

Who is the last person you emailed in California?
My step-father, and before that, my grad school adviser. He was asking about training cats, and she is retiring.

Speaking of cats, how are they? What are they doing?
They are sleeping right now. Preparing for another early morning of stealing my pillow from under my head.

Speaking for retiring, any future plans of that?
I don't see retirement being much different from now, except for the added bonus my grandma always told me about-- ogling young fellows without consequence!

safety nets

cinco sound experiement

Actual sounds from Indiana. Even though I think they sound like a meditation CD.

And then...

*But what kind is it? Must a snake in the grass mean danger, or is it all in my head?

poem

Walking


feet






Carry


me


through


the


woods





To


my




daily


work.

It seemed important just now

Take a moment to listen.

Shades of Death*

Yesterday, we went for a little hike in Shades State Park. I didn't bring the still camera-- I brought the video camera (I am experimenting on something right now), so I have no images to show you. Maybe I will have time to upload video, but for now, I want to say:

Even in the beginning of spring, without the full greenness unfurled, it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. And I have been to Yosemite, the redwoods, Joshua Tree, etc. It was surprising. And when I looked online to find images to refer to this entry in place of my own, I came up with slim pickings. Mostly from blogs. So, until I can upload some stimulating video of my shoes walking around, these links will have to do. Know that while the images linked here are perfectly lovely, they still not as inspired as the place itself was. I commend you, brave bloggers, for posting the possibly unpostable!

*Please Note: There is a series of rather peculiar legends associated with the name of the park/this post. Far be it from me to propagate a rumor, I will not repeat them here until I have found some hard evidence.

A little California(n) in Indiana

There was an earthquake this morning. I thought there weren't supposed to be those here. Not that I mind, or am worried. It is actually a little funny to google Indiana earthquakes and see the biggest ones here only brush past 5 points on the Richter Scale. Sure, some walls crack, some chimneys have (in the past) fallen down and pictures sometimes fall off the wall. Cracked walls? The plaster walls of the two houses I have liven in here are more cracked to begin with than my old house in California. Fallen chimneys? Many of the ones I have seen standing are crocked to begin with. Knocked pictures? May as well remind you they are there and should be switched out as the kids get older.

In short, I am unphased. Bring it on! I am hardened to the shakings of the earth by my hearty California upbringing.

I have found more wildflowers for you (click the pictures for texture). In high school we collected and cataloged them. I feel as though I need to do the same here to truly understand the place. These ones are yet unnamed, but I will pull out my old science neurons and try to find them out.

Wildflowers and empty egg from the lawn

new rental

I am determined to live stylishly.
Click for details.

To the past

Dear M,

Could you believe this town has two of these? I pass one each day on the way to work, depending which route I take. I think of you each time. Do you remember? It was so funny; we laughed and laughed. Well, you did, I guess. I wasn't there, so it was never as funny to me. But you laughed and I wanted to make you laugh, so I thought of you whenever I saw one. They are such weird things, and it is odd they exist at all. They are both more rare and more common than I would have thought.

Anyway, there it is. Back from a time when we were still together, but you could already see how we would end. I denied it, which is why losing you hurt so much. I thought we would be old maids together, fighting in the same room of the nursing home.

I meet someone here who reminds me of you, is even the person I thought you would become (back when we were kids). It is both painful and wonderful to see her, even though we do not have the same friendship you and I had. Being friends as an adult seems like a tragedy, compared to those of childhood. To laugh as riotously at nothing, to not need alcohol or exotic food or fancy clothes. It was enough to stand in a circle, feet touching, to take a picture and think it would last forever.


Oh nostalgia, how you stab me in the eye when I stare at you too hard.

found in the grass, on a cold day

something like a stone, something like a piece of candy.
blue like the Mediterranean was, heavy like a silver dollar.
seem impregnable, yet so cold and exposed.
how do you know if something is (still) alive?

it incubates under a lamp in my bathroom.

new template -- and homework for you!

i have finally broken out of the template. hooray! by purposely opposing my web design training and the look of "main stream" blogs, i expect all kinds of mad things to happen on different browsers and monitors! let's toast to spontaneous technological creations/failures!

the good thing about it-- i can now have much larger pictures and videos. yes, they will occasionally cover up columns and words-- that is part of the fun! expand your browser window if it is too much, or go look at it on a public terminal with a high-resolution monitor! i suggest the Apple store, public libraries, the Sony store, Fry's, etc!

send me a picture of you looking at the site in a public space and i will post it!

Spring Forest

This is the fourth day in a row I have walked to work. In those four days, it has been sunny and warm, a joy for walking. (OK, this morning is a little cold and overcast, but that breaks the flow of the story.) Each morning, I walk a certain route, cutting through the north east corner of the campus, a forested grassy area that doesn't seem to serve a purpose for the students (not quite large or natural enough for hikes or research, too large to comfortably study or have lunch, no place to sit, etc.). Each evening, I walk a slightly different route past the big, declining, old houses, so I can imagine what it would be like to fix one up.

View Larger Map

Each morning, I have noticed slightly more green on my walk to campus. The first day, the ground was green with moss; the second day, clumps of grass had appeared; by today, those clumps have passed my ankles and are covering the ground. I may not be able to cut through soon, at the rate it is growing.

Last night, after class, I changed my walk slightly, to cut through a tiny section of this forested area. I looked to my left (to the west), and I saw a photograph. No, I saw a landscape, a sunset. But actually, I saw a photograph. The way the light spilled over a building, around a tree and into my eyes, the way the tree cast its shadow like a finger pointing at my feet, the clumps of grass looking like a cheering crowd. When I returned with camera in hand, of course the photo was gone. I don't think I will find it again-- the grass has grown two more inches, this weekend calls for rain, the earth moves around the sun.

This morning, I saw my friend walking through to forest, on her way to her office in a different direction from mine. I emailed her about it later. This is what I wrote.

Didn't that seem like a scene from an early 20th century poem about "2 young faculty enjoying their morning reverie on a walk through the woods, come upon each other and exchange a wave." :)

moving in a small town

our postwoman noticed we were moving and has begun forwarding our mail to the new house across town. the mailfolks in California still forget to forward even with our forwarding postcards.