In a funk.

The post title pretty much sums it up. I find myself feeling sluggish about life these days. The creative juices are flowing but seem to be trapped under a sheet of ice.

Like they're a mosquito stuck in amber and I can see them there and I know there's dino DNA to be had, I just can't get to it. And that's frustrating.

Yes, I'm a nerd. Said nerd turns around after an analogy like that and says, well, maybe it's for the best. You don't want to breed raptors, after all. That never ends well.

And I say, you know what, inner nerd? You're right. Plus it's a lot of work breeding raptors. It takes a lot of energy. I would much rather just snuggle up on the couch with a good book or with useless interwebs.

Inner nerd says, let's watch Jurassic Park instead.

But then the annoying industrious side of me pipes up and gives the rest of us a guilt trip about being unproductive, so I can't even lounge properly until the funk goes away but my veins are too full of molasses to actually get much of anything useful done, so, yeah. (In the interest of giving credit where it's due, it's not just Industrious Me's fault. The Little Guy also contributes a LOT to the preventing-me-from-lounging fund. Especially now that he's walking.)

This is all extra frustrating because it's keeping me from really enjoying November, which is usually one of my favorite times of year. (Yeah, I know that just adds to the weirdness. Whatever.)

I'd write an angry letter to someone, but I just don't have the energy.

Maybe I'll put in that Jurassic Park DVD instead.



If you see my missing get-up-and-go, please kick its wandering little trash back home to me. Much obliged.

"How Long?"

This poem, by Darlene L. Young, really struck me today. She says, "I wrote this poem during a long period of chronic illness about how hard it is when you are pulled up to a stop in the path you thought you were taking in life, either through chronic illness, infertility, a crisis of faith, or something else." It was one of those moments where you read something that hits you exactly right, and expresses what you've been feeling so perfectly that it resonates in your soul. And so I'm passing it along to you.


How Long?

by Darlene L. Young, pub. Irreantum vol. 9-10

*
I find myself Lehi, encamped in a tent.
It’s pleasant enough here, with plenty to do.
Arise, retire.
Arise, retire.
Work and pray and dance.
Retire.

I could build a house here and let go the dream
of the swaying of camels, the saltwater lapping.

But I heard a voice—and its memory has me
stretching my neck at the dry desert wind.
Still I hear only whisper of sand and tent flapping.

Arise, retire, and I used to pray
at every new dawn, “Lord is it today?”
Arise and retire. I no longer ask
but remain in my tent. You know I’ll obey.

I’ll make it my work to arise and retire
and cling to the ghost of the voice in the fire.
But, Lord, there’s the ocean.
And what shall I do with this lack of motion?
*
This poem copyright 2009 by Darlene L. Young.




Thank you, Darlene, for your poetry and for being amazing in general.

Hey, remember that one time . . .

. . . I wrote a blog post about my associations with Guy Fawkes Day?

Hey, me too!

Let's remember remember the fifth of November together.



I've never seen V for Vendetta; this is just pure geekery.

Just what I needed

I was going to write a different post today, but then I came upon these two blog entries from two separate blogs, both written yesterday, and both exactly what I needed to hear today. So I'm going to share them with you instead. Thanks to Casey and Ashley for being in tune.


Coincidence? I think not!

So it begins.

Imagine this at our house tonight, only more manly and tough, and with the Little Guy instead of pigs. And without, you know, the singing. But other than that, this is exactly what our evening was like.




Yeah, we are in soooo much trouble.

Second anniversary

I've been thinking about two years ago, especially now that we're living in what was my grandparents' house, and thought it would be appropriate to post these once more.


Three for Grandpa, 1914-2009
The Secret

We have a secret, just we three:
The robin, and I, and the sweet cherry tree.
The bird told the tree, and the tree told me,
And nobody knows it but just us three.

Of course the robin knows it best,
Because she built the -- I won't say the rest --
And laid the four little --somethings-- in it.
I'm afraid I shall tell it every minute!

But if the tree and the robin don't peep,
I'll try my best the secret to keep.
But when the little somethings fly about,
Then the whole secret will be out.

- Anonymous


The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside --

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown --
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

- Robert Louis Stevenson


Icarus

A girl. Arms outstretched, swooping wildly
across the sky, returning mildly
to earth, on the end of a string
madly running, she catches the wind,
rises aloft. She holds the twine
to her ear to hear the wind sing.

A grandfather. Smiling slightly,
weathered hands grip his own string tightly
hovering steadily in the sky,
teaching her to hear the wind sing,
watching her swoop. He is remembering
the giddy new thrill of first learning to fly.

- ELE


Touched you last, Grandpa!

Germination

I'm hesitant, sometimes, to talk about ideas or goals or aspirations that I have. It could be that I feel like if I don't tell anybody then nobody will be disappointed in me if I don't finish what I start. Which, let's be honest, is something that does tend to happen with me. Or it could be that I feel like the magic will be gone if I say it out loud; that something will be spoiled once it's not just my little secret thing anymore. The result is that at any given time I may have two or three dozen little seedlings of projects or plans germinating in my brain that nobody else knows about. And I think that's okay.

That doesn't really have much to do with anything except that I wanted to say something without saying anything. You know, the way it's not as fun to keep a secret if nobody knows you're keeping it? Yeah. Like that.

In other news, the weather today was lovely. Not, perhaps, in an objective sense, but it was exactly the kind of fall weather I love most. Great for snuggling with a cute toddler, curling up under a blanket, reading a good book, sipping hot chocolate, or all of the above, and giving germination a chance.



Happy November, everyone!