For Paige, forever ago

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

Winter is the cruellest season:

He said I love you I'll be better.

She waited.

He said I can't be better goodbye.

She buries him in the ground and cries over his grave.

II. A GAME OF CHICKEN, A GAME OF CHESS

Exuberance

Blonde hair brilliance

Queen across the board

Knight charges,

Frustrated, her plans are frustrated.

Queen across the board

Check, check, check:

She is not afraid, she will not back down,

Waits

With the patience and grace kin to her royalty.

III. THE FLYING SERMON

Kites swoop swoop--redorangeyellowgreen

And the blue blue sky.

Like water down the window

Diving for the ground,

Swift sweep back up

Up and down up and down

Teetertotter of the sky.

IV. DEATH BY WATER

Penelope's plans get drowned in the humdrum of everyday people

With everyday weights on their everyday shoulders.

Death seems inches away.

Heartbreak wraps its cold arms around

With the fear of dying like all those everyday people.

Oh all the king's horses and all the king's men!

Her fears sometimes block the air from filling her lungs with the dreams

She should not be afraid to dream.

Big dreams.

But in the now of everyday, she cannot see them.

The magnitude of soul:

Hers bursting out and filling the world with laughter

With gold

With everything she touches.

V. WHAT THE RIVER KNOWS

Walking upstream in a river, she looks to the people who are running on the shore.

Why can they move so swiftly?

Why can't she?

She doesn't realize:

One of these days, she will be the one on the shore, now with legs the strength of Samson,

With a heart made and fashioned for wading through hard things,

With a home all her own,

Adoring children,

Adoring husband.

And she will run with twice the speed of any who have been on land the whole race

For she has known the depths of the river.

She has known the swift current's downward pull,

And she has shown stronger than all of it.

Her beauty shall not be slackened, nor her strength overlooked.

One lady.
She moves worlds with soft words

With the magic of a listening heart

And the energy of a thousand summer mornings.

Patience. Promise. Hope.

Dhairya. Vacana. Asha.

Shvasiti shvasiti shvasiti

hope for the week

may this give you juice and much hope for the next few days.

my first basketball game

it went like this.

five girls in pink shirts, stretching on the sidelines, giggling about how funny it is that none of us have ever played basketball before. "hehe, we're so brave, hehe."

enter the other team. all of whom were over seven feet, and were wearing intramural champion shirts from previous years. i'm pretty sure darth vader's imperial march was playing in the background and everything slowed way down as they walked in.

one of them had horns.

and then, because i cannot say it better than our own favorite coach did, here are ray's words:

He Ping Pings Return...

So...a couple nights ago, I was asked to be a coach again. I was a soccer coach this last semester for a group of my friends (girls) who have never played sports before. Needless to say, basketball is a bit more technical than soccer.

Originally, I was told that I couldn't coach their team because I don't know enough about basketball. My response: "I played in Junior Jazz and watch the Jazz all the time. AND, my brothers are really good!" (should be credentials enough). Well, Katherine finally begged me to come and coach them mainly because:

1. I am nice and only yell encouraging things.
2. I am ok with embarrassment.
3. I just love it so much.

So, we stumbled onto the basketball court (Nicolina wore a skirt). As we were waiting, our much-anticipated opponents showed up. They were hard to miss. They looked much like this:



Well, you can imagine the panic that ensued. I suggested that we all run away as quickly as possible. Everyone was in agreement...except Liz. "We are not running away. I have never forfeited before." Oh great. So, to the death it was.

I started to pump myself up and cheer the girls up. We could handle this. Then their coach showed up. Yup, Noah Hartsock, the BYU basketball player. Even I looked stupid now.

Well, here are the highlights of the game:

1. Carolyn wanting so desperately to foul someone and not knowing how. At one point, she was waving her arms frantically in front of the girl she was guarding and barely touching her. She then asked the girl, "Can I even do this?" The girl just laughed. Paige and I were dying on the sidelines. Carolyn just smiles, shrugs, and runs down the court.

2. Katherine SCREAMING at the top of her lungs every time they stole the ball from her.

3. Alisha had her jersey on backwards.

4. Suzie telling the other team to be nice before the game even started.

And at half time, we had 3 points. I proceeded to tell the girls that we were going to set goals that were specific, measurable, and achievable. Our goal: 10 points by the end of the game.

End result: We lost 89-12.

And we totally exceeded our goal!

10:43 nightmares

sometimes i stay up really late because i am scared to go to bed.

there are monsters under my bed, you see.

and when it's dark and i'm alone in the covers, they creep out and slide their hands up the sides of my mattress,

through my hair

around my throat

and i can't breathe.

so i leave the hall light on and call you,

and you tell me bedtime stories until i fall asleep.

paper boats and pretend

we move through life too quickly, always looking ahead, always running, always "just trying to make it through the day". we don't enjoy it while it lasts, the way children do, where everyday is an adventure, a chance to play, to pretend, to see new possibilities and games and people and fun. i want that in my life. i want to see the world the way a child does again. i was talking with paige over the weekend about imagination and childhood--we listened to "paper boat" by cocoon, all about childhood pretending games, and i realized that when you are a child, the world is infinitely vast! that you can have a piece of paper, folded into a boat, and suddenly you see infinite possibilities in it. the infinite avenues of "pretend". and then suddenly we're adult and everything is concrete. a paper boat is a piece of paper. or more specifically, wood, bark and glue, bleached and pressed really thin. we lose our sense of divine wonder, of inestimable imagination, pretend. when we're told to be as children, that is part of it--we need to regain that sense of seeing the world as so much larger than what our eyes really see. of being able to pretend and imagine possibilities, and see beyond the concrete restrictions of the paper with which our boats are made and the blankets that make the walls of our forts. we are living now in such a world, where we have limited resources, and so much of our success depends on our ability to see the castles in the clouds, the boats in the paper, the miracles in the everyday, the divine in each of us.

review #2: in search of the perfect taco

saturday night, no plans. my buddies grant and daniel and i invent find-the-perfect-taco night. and off we go in search. (*thanks to daniel for being our photographer)

stop 1: diego's taco shop. while pleasantly surprised to find the game playing and the place twice as big as before (they took over the tattoo parlor next door), we were slightly underimpressed with the tacos. the meat was a little charred, and heavy on the onion. not bad, but not the perfect taco. overall score: 3.0

stop 2: taqueria el vaquero. better meat, cheaper price. their fixin's were better as well--green sauce, red sauce, cilantro, onions, cabbage, limes...and they have a big screen. overall score: 4.3

stop 3: el taco riendo! while the diner-turned-indian-restaurant-turned-taqueria perhaps did not have the most authentic atmosphere (not to mention the neck-strain in reading the menu), the meat here was the best we've had yet. juicy, and very flavorful (not just salty either). the tacos left our fingers greasy, but our mouths happy. the one downside: the tacos are approximately 22% smaller than the previous two places'. overall score: 4.6

stop 4: el gallo giro: this place gives you chips! the meat was savory (though grant's large chunk of fat was a little scary--see picture), and of all the tacos of the evening, these came the most quickly and the hottest--so hot, in fact, that i had to blow on mine (see picture). grant vouches for the authenticity of their horchata. while definitely better than both diego's and vaquero, the rooster doesn't quite outstrip el taco riendo. overall score: 4.45

after a night full of carne asada, i have a slightly overstuffed belly + one scarf, two blue dangly earrings, and a pair of skinny jeans, all of which smell like tacos.

cellphone. jack's mannequin.

when i listen to this song, i can do anything.

love song for a repairman (aka: a day for fixing things)

i'm sitting on the floor groaning: the vacuum's broken again.

it's spread out and flipped over on the floor like a washed-up jellyfish.

the jaws beneath laugh at me, hair twisting out of it, its final puffpuff to the world before dying.

does anyone know how to fix it?

i unscrew the baseplate.

phillips.

six screws.

open.

broken v-belt.

home depot.

sucks.

i'm on to unloading the dishes: the washer's broken again.

the dishes are speckled and freckled with white stains--

calcium iron magnesium salt HARD WATER.

and the soap dispenser--still jammed shut--refuses to open up and spill out the clean.

stubborn.

does anyone know how to fix it?

i grab a fork.

chip chip chip

pile of hardened soap, dispenser-shaped.

fresh start.

new soap.

longer cycle.

fingers crossed.

i'm sitting on the couch, shivering, nose dripping, cold: the heater's broken again.

i open the furnace door--he's in there grunting and humming and pretending he's working.

walk over to the thermostat.

65

walk over to the vent.

cold air.

expletive.

i call whipple heating airconditioning plumbing.

"it's a wonderful day here at whipple heating airconditioning plumbing! what can i do to make your day more wonderful?!"

my furnace is broken.

does anyone know how to fix it?

sometime between noon and two.

$69.95 dispatch.

warm again.

sucks.

stubborn.

cold.

i'm crying on the floor: my love is broken again.

it's spread out and flipped every which way, begging, taunting to be examined

to have the baseplate unscrewed and all the insides chipped out with a metal fork.

strap on my toolbelt,

phillips

fork

feelings

forgiveness,

and get to work.

swipes of dirt across my chin.

grease under my fingernails, all over my pants.

streams of tears across my cheek.

groans under my best wishes, all over my heart.

my love is broken.

does anyone know how to fix it?

i'll pay the dispatch.

i'll buy a new v-belt.

i'll rinse cycle and rinse cycle and rinse cycle

till things come out squeaky clean,

the way you like them.

honey, fix the washer,

honey, the vacuum won't start,

honey, fix the heater,

honey, fix my heart.

life of a teacher (aka me)

today in second period, a girl passed out. i was walking her out of the classroom to the nurse's and she fell on me.

today in third period, six kids in the back of the classroom burst into "I Want it That Way", chorus, high parts and all. that's right all you class of 2004 that thought WE were the only ones who listened to backstreet's back all through mrs. call & mr. cornell & harm & dempsey & so on. OH NO. high schoolers are still diggin the tunes. (because let's face it: who doesn't want it that way?*)

today in fourth period, a boy knocked the socks off the whole class with a baller video he made on his fav bballer. at the end, we all went, "Awww!" and my faith in fourth period is restored.

yesterday was a hard-on-the-inside day. lots of rainclouds in my head and in my heart. but my students smiled at me and said "carter, you're the best" and laughed at all my silly jokes and came in just to chat at lunch and to tell me they like my 'style'. yesterday, my students saved me.

and that's what makes teaching the best job in the world.

*every morning for about a month now I've woken up with a song in my head...not one i listened to the night before or dreamt about or anything like that--no, just some random song that i haven't heard of, thought about, or even know the title to. and the best part is, every morning it's a different song. my brain is a jukebox. tomorrow perhaps it will be I Want it That Way.

sing it andrew.

*didn't realize till just now, but this post is a nice holla'back to stevie's poem from yesterday.

i like this poem.

Not Waving but Drowning

BY STEVIE SMITH

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

true gentleman

i was walking to church in the snow.

i was wearing these.

a man about ten yards ahead of me had already begun the long, cold trek up the back hill of campus.

i remember him wearing a scarf.

he stopped. he turned and he waited. he held out his elbow and said, "i will walk you up the hill because i think with those shoes it might be dangerous."

thank you sir.

black velvet tree

in the museum of art, there is an exhibit called mirrormirror. i came upon something that made me stop breathing. i searched for pictures of it, but found none, so i'm going to have to sneak my camera in to steal a few. which is undoubtedly illegal. so for now i will have to describe it. it is a huge dead tree, branches extending all around you, lifelike, and deathlike. deathlike because the tree--the branches--are covered in the most beautiful black velvet. we're talking subzero black. 20,000-leagues-under-the-sea black. and it encloses me and sucks me in and i cannot br e ath e.

such presence. to have that kind of response...THAT is the power of art: that it can change your body change your thoughts change your emotions

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . elation

FEAR. PANIC! E C S T A S Y

...and then change your actions as a result.

my new favorite thing

bahahaha! i can't stop laughing.

a photo-exhibition through my day!

how come the only thing i want to do anymore is eat christmas peanut m&ms? this is a little known fact about me, but i am an expert on peanut m&ms. i have begun a catalogue system of the many oh-so-intricate differences in flavor of peanut m&ms. eating them is a constant adventure.

ANYWAYS.

today was one of those days where you have to force yourself to do things all day long.

case in point: jogging. my warm morning body said, "NO." but i went anyways, thinking that it would give me more motivation during the rest of the day. not the case. this is me. minus the man. and the beach. and the beanie. and the smile. okay, this is nothing like me.

case in point: cleaning my bedroom. before and after shots, because who doesn't love those.

THE BED:

THE DESK:

THE DRESSER:

THE CLEANING LADY:

and now i am thoroughly creeped out that i have posted all these pictures on my blog.

case in point: eating pineapple rice and watching iron chef. practically had to force myself through this one. (lying)

happy new year world! we're off to a clean and health-conscious (or at least pretending to be) start!