Dre's blog

I love gray for many reasons. I love it for its ambiguity, since it is most obviously neither black nor white. It is a combination that can vary in degree and as such is impossible to quantify. I love the netherworld it represents: the things not fully formed, the color my hair will turn as I grow into a new phase of life, the layer of clouds between us and the infinite blueness of the sky...

Today was a gray and rainy day in DC. I must say I was glad to have it, since I had planned to spend the day at home, making progress on a paper I need to finish up this week. Since it was rainy this morning, my new favorite Sunday activity-- going to the farmer's market in Dupont--was a no-go. The rain slowed down around noon, so I took a walk to the Whole Foods to commune with a couple hundred of my closest friends who all descended at once (and most were too well-dressed for the grocery store-- can't these people afford to have groceries delivered??). I was walking back from Whole Paycheck, listening to some music that kept me walking fast (I think it was "Jive Talkin'" by the Bee Gees), and then I was stopped in my tracks when I decided to look down one of the sidestreets that I was crossing. I turned my music off and just stood there looking. Here's what I saw. Rather, here are a few insufficent photos of what I saw. This was one of those times (there are many) when I wish I had a better camera and the talent to use it.

all that glitters

snowing leaves

this city ain't so bad

At the start of a yoga class last weekend, the teacher asked each of us to share something that we love. I said that I love the changing of seasons and the way it inspires changes in each of us, even though we sometimes don't notice it happening. I do truly love watching nature transition. But I forget to do it. I forget that beyond the city streets and buses and buildings, there is a neverending process at work. I guess I noticed it today. I was frozen in my tracks by it, in fact. I was captivated by something still, quiet, and simple that was right around the corner from me, that I walk by every day on my way to work. It was inspiring and reassuring to find beauty when I least expected it, on a cold, gray day in November. I'm not sure what change is occurring in me to mirror this transition into winter. I can't know what will become while it is happening. But I trust that it, like the falling of the shimmering leaves from the hardy trees in my neighborhood, is part of a process that will happen naturally, whether I notice it while it is unfolding or not.  
 

I know, it's been 2 months since I posted last. You complained to me that I hadn't been writing anything. You thought I had been kidnapped by hippies when I was in Colorado. But, alas, I was only detained for a period of three days. I returned last week, and finally have recovered and feel that I have the strength to write about it. They made me have copious amounts of fun, against my will. They forced me to drink heavily, to trudge up mountains over a mile high (through snow, mud, and the occasional cactus), to get the sh*t beat out of me by a so-called "massage therapist," to go red in the face from the horrible hours in the cauldron they call a "hot tub," and to dance like some reveler on a commune when they locked me in the venue full of smiling crazy people that I was told had "good acoustics." It was terrible. Horrible. No good. Very bad.

I want to go back.

But then again that's kind of what I've said about Boulder since I moved to DC two years ago. We call it the Boulder Bubble, or the PRB (People's Republic of Boulder). People do what they want there. They are blissfully unaware and unengaged by life outside of the bubble. They smile at strangers on the street. Cars yield to pedestrians... no matter what. The sun shines every day. Everyone's hot and in good shape. Most people have an acupuncturist, but not a primary care doctor. The first question is never "what do you do?" but usually "what's your sign?" There are more dogs than people.

And, if you promise that you can keep a secret, I'll share something with you. Promise? Okay. Take a look at the view from my sister's house. This first one was taken just before sunrise on my first morning there. I had flown in just after a foot of snow appeared out of nowhere.

Sunrise

And... the after photo, as in after the sun came out for a day:

Meltdown

Seriously. These photos were taken 24 hours apart. That's where the top secret part of this post comes in. You see, one of the best kept secrets of Colorado is that everyone thinks it's really cold there. But the truth is that it's not. We get a foot of snow one day and then it is melted before you can say goldrush. It's amazing.

It was wonderful to live in this funky town at the base of the mountains, where I could escape into the hills at a moment's notice. There is something very special about those mountains to me. I get surrounded by nature in the Rockies and am instantly comforted. I think we each have our spiritual home somewhere in nature, somewhere on this vast planet. For some it's the ocean, or the desert, or maybe in the plains. But for me, I think I feel most at peace in the mountains.   I miss them every day.   And I miss the PRB. You should visit. But I will warn you-- you might not want to leave.

Aye, one-eyed bloggers, today is National Talk Like a Pirate Day. Get your pirate names here: Pirate Me.

I be known on the high seas as Captain Anne Kidd. Shiver me timbers (what's that mean anyway??). A bit of fun for the whole family.

Did that happen to you going back to work yesterday, too? There is something in the air this time every year. Even though I've been out of school for all these years, functioning in the working world that lacks the much-needed "summer vacation," I can still feel some kind of of shift on the day after Labor Day every single year. There are so many children and college kids heading back to scheduled days after getting in their parents' way all summer long, it's like the mass exodus stirs something in the soul of the world. I can't help but feel it.

Or maybe it's the change of seasons that I feel. Or maybe it's just indigestion. I can't be sure. But there is a hint of change in the air, a feeling of endings, and, if I slap on my rose-colored glasses (meant for times like these), there is a feeling of beginnings, too.

Here is a relevant T.S. Eliot quote that my mom had up on the fridge for enough of my formative years that it is etched indelibly in my mind now:

"What we call the beginning is also the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

And here is the other quote that my mom had up on the fridge by some unknown. Somewhat less literary, but no less enlightened:

"Age is not important unless you are a cheese."  

Thought you might want to know. :)

I have monthly ritual. No, not that one, but good thinking. This one involves other celestial bodies than the moon (is the moon considered a celestial body??). I check my horoscope on my favorite astrologer's site religiously on the first of each month. I probably check yours, too. I can't take the suspense of not knowing what the coming month has in store, so I like to pretend that Susan Miller can see the future and can take the anxiety out of the mystery. Okay, so she can't see the future, but she sure is spot on. Even my sister, who doesn't easily get on board with this hippy dippy flaky stuff, is a Susan Miller devotee.

You can also find out if you and your lover/blind date/stalkee are going to sail smoothly on a calm sea of schmoopiness, or if your love is destined to be a turbulent passage through purgatory. The best part is that she always puts in a paragraph about how you two will do "when the lights go out." It's cheesy and so great. I kid you not, I've gone to this site every time I've started dating someone new, just to see what the odds of it working out are. Again, to take the anxiety out of it-- I can never take the suspense.

Here is her website: Astrology Zone. Take a look around. Don't be frustrated if you are looking for news of a budding romance, and all you get is a hint that it's a good month to invest. Susan knows what's best. And she's a big hearted kind of lady, so she'll say sweet things to you and wrap her virtual love around you (she calls me "Dear Taurus" and I get a big warm fuzzy from it).

If you would rather be roughed up and pushed around and made to realize how ridiculous you are for seeking wisdom from a stranger's estimation of the angle of Mars to the Sun, then you might enjoy Rob Bresny's hilarious take on astrology (thanks to Curlysalamander for the reminder, and for letting me encroach on your cyber territory), by browsing Free Will Astrology.

But wait, there's more! I want to share my two current favorite astrological phenomena: 1) Mercury Retrograde, and 2) Saturn Return. I love that I live in a world where we make cautious choices and calculate our risk and try to stay safe from harm by buying cars with airbags and using those weird little hands-free devices to (possibly) lessen the chance of cancer, and YET... ain't nothing we can do to control the influence that the stars 'n planets have on our happenings. Mercury Retrograde is great because it is an excuse for everything going wacky and things being delayed and obscured, and it happens quite frequently. Mercury goes into retrograde like 4 times a year, and this is a time when it's a bad idea to make big decisions or sign contracts or expect things to happen on schedule. It's a great scapegoat. All you need to do is find out when Mercury is in retrograde, and then use that 3 week or so period to F--- up on everything and deny responsibility.

And.. then there's Saturn Return. I must admit I know very little about this astrological hot spot. It comes at a certain time in our lives and brings all kinds of major changes and upheavals. I think it is mostly about letting go of childhood (never!) and embracing adulthood. It's a period of introspection and self-awareness. All I know is that it is supposed to happen when you are about 28 years old and irrevocably render your old life. I've somehow turned 28 when I wasn't looking, and that must mean that Saturn Return is upon me. You may see, then, why I'm into learning about it. Here is a pretty good link that describes what goes down. I would like to call a certain Dabysan's attention to this information, in case he finds himself wondering why I have a tendency towards the existential crisis these days. I throw my hands up in surrender, and humbly confess that I am powerless against the planetary forces. I would also, while I'm at it, like to blame the stars for any bills that I've sent late, for not calling my P's on Sundays, for being chronically late by 15-20 minutes, for not visiting my grandmother, and for not cleaning my house regularly. Hands are still up in surrender. Not my fault. Really.    ...   :)

Oh, right. I was procrastinating. And before that? Beats me.

I'm a sick woman, indeed. There is nothing that makes me feel more uneasy than having a deadline hanging over my head, and yet nothing more tempting to me than using time that I should be working to do anything but work. And, right now, at this very moment, it appears that I'm blogging (note: not working). This is why I don't IM. I would never ever get anything done.

An illustration of my sickness: I just took a phone call from my boyfriend. However, I didn't want to spend too long talking, since I'm "doing schoolwork." So I told him that I had to go, since I had to get back to doing what I am not supposed to be doing (note: blogging) so that I can then get back to doing what I am supposed to be doing (involves eventually getting a Masters degree if I can only write my papers). It's all twisted.

All I'm saying is that I have taken the time tonight to peruse the titles on the bookshelf  to my left and construct a list of a) my favorites that I've read, and b) the order in which I will read the others if I can ever turn my attention to what I'm not doing right now (something to do with sizable debt), prune the dying plant to my right, watch the ever-so-nauseating news about what's going down in Israel/Lebanon right now (more on that some other time, since people are always asking me what I think of the situation, I'll eventually have to decide what I think other than thinking that it's just heartbreaking), call an old friend, pay some bills, and chat it up with my roommate. And... yet... I can't seem to do what it takes to write a single page of my policy analysis for my summer class that will be over the second I finish this paper.

I'm sick.

Did you  know that one of the Craigslist  discussion forums is  Haiku?  For serious.  I love  people .  We seek community in the most interesting ways.
A brief note on the delicious precision of the Haiku (I needed a refresher myself): Haiku is a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables.

Another tidbit for the Haiku-curious:
A Haiku must contain a kigo, a season word, which indicate in which season the Haiku is set.

Oh, and there are lots of rules about Haiku. Apparently there is some controversy about the so-called modern Haikus, which are written under different rules and in many languages. Hmmm.

I'll give one a try, inspired by this gnarly season in the swamplands of DC:

Walk outside and sweat

Air so thick you can see it

I hope it snows soon

I suddenly understand the controversy. Is this a Haiku that is set in summer, or in winter? The content is ambiguous. Thick air, and yet snow. I leave this art out in the public domain for the beholder...

Can you Haiku? Talk to me.

And by "mall" I don't mean the one with all the memorials of wars and so called "obelisk" that testifies to our nation's quite obvious case of mine is bigger than yours. I mean, the mall with all of the money flying out of people's pockets when they aren't looking, the mall that has manufactured a most perplexing commercial experience that nurtures a surprising feeling of want in unsuspecting Americans as they enter merely wanting to buy a sturdy pair of shoes that don't pinch in the toes, yet leave laden with a new silicone spatula (heard about it on a cooking show),  a $100 dollar pair of sunglasses (what, with no ozone layer, you can't be too careful), a cashmere sweater (who cares that it's summer, it was on sale!), one of those silver whojamajiggers that you put your whatchamathingy on (what, you don't have one yet?), a pair of pants that will fit once they start working out (the label says "stretch"), and an inexplicable feeling that they have somehow been violated but can't quite figure it out.

I had forgotten why I don't go to the mall. Now I remember. It's nauseating. It's a circus. It's more dizzying than riding the Metro backwards on a hot day at rush hour with a hangover. People exercising buying power just because it's hot out and what else are you gonna do? Salespeople throwing themselves at you a second after walking into a store that is better encountered only as an ad on a magazine page (united colors of please leave me in peace to realize that your store is too expensive for me). The deceptive lighting in the fitting room that makes a horrible color look GREAT on you. The teenagers. The techno music. The frappaccinos. The fake bling. It's too much for me.

My trip to the mall actually made it feel good to get back to the dirty and unassuming streets of the city, where you can buy the perfect sunglasses for 5 bucks on the street and nobody looks you in the eye, let alone wants to help you spend the paycheck you haven't gotten yet on the fabulous new fall collection that just came out yesterday.