...quiet, about a lot of things...

Thursday, November 30, 2006

If the walls could talk...for poetry thursday

I have less than 5 minutes to write this entry. But I missed last week, and it bummed me out. So, don't expect brilliance...come to think of it, do you ever expect brilliance??..... Crap..that took two minutes..

Here goes..

Facade

The trick
I suppose
is to have
the outside
match
the inside.

Or else
the life
you know
is just a
facade.

You can only
paint so many times,
without
having to scape
to bare
wood.

For things
only last so long.
Old wood
no longer holds nails
no matter how
you choose
to glue it.

You have to
rip it down,
and start again.

No one
wants
to live in
a house
of cards.


wlf 8:45


Glad to be back....see ya at PT...

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posted by wendy at 8:42 AM 10 comments

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Piggy Rose for Sunday Scribblings

Right about the time I was a freshman in high school, Saturday Night Fever broke. The disco era was in full blast and Gloria Gaynor told me I would survive. Donna Summers, the Commodores, and KC and the Sunshine Band ruled my world. I've always loved to dance, so when the first dance of my freshman year was announced, I was so ready. I pulled out my leotard, and dance skins skirt, platforms and leg warmers. I was set!!

I went to an all girl Catholic high school in Pasadena CA. The boys came from all over the San Gabriel valley to dances. These were Catholic all boy school boys. Totally sanctioned. Totally horny.

I don't remember much about the particulars of the evening. I danced, I remember with a boy from Loyola, who was handsy but harmless.

The next week at school, I began finding my name written in the desks of various classes I attended..."Wendy is a slut." "Wendy is a whore" They were all over the school. I was mortified. I was 14. I had my first kiss just the summer before. No one had even felt me up or anything. But I loved to dance, and I had danced with the wrong boy.(mistakenly) Piggy Rose's old boyfriend.(didn't know) I barely knew Piggy Joe. But I became very well acquainted with her markers, pencils, and Bic pens...her little posse of friends made it their personal challenge to make my name well known. I became a very well known freshman.

Ah,,,Piggy Rose. my nemesis. How I hate her to this day. But she taught me a very important lesson....Hell has no Fury..like a woman scorned.


For more enemies of the people, go to Sunday Scribblings....

I wonder how many will be women, and how many will be men???....

And as for being a slut.....well...takes one to know one.

PS. Girls.. remember the thrill of being "Felt up"...oh, big sigh.
posted by wendy at 11:29 PM 10 comments

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Thanks to your first Commentor day....

Neil's up to his usual odd diversionary tactics over at Citizen...but hey I'm odd...so here goes.... My very first commentor is a very prestigious one!!!To boot, he still visits from time to time!! Jim, as in James Brock, was my very first commentor. He is a celeb, big time, to the Poetry Thursday crowd. He left his kind comment about an untitled poem I wrote, true to form, that day, without much thought. The gates to the poetry had already been flung open by my muse, but Jim came in next, and he coaxed me to keep going.

To be honest, I was scared to get my first person reading here. I had linked to poetry thursday, so I won't be coy enough to suggest that I was surprised. I had sent out invitations. I just really didn't think any one would show up. When Jim did, I was a bit uncomfortable. Weren't their crazy people lurking on the net???...The answer, is, why yes, there are crazy people who write on blogs, and boring people, and hateful people...but then, then there are the gems. The people who live in the little blogs I visit. The people I have been privileged to get to know. These blogs have become my friends.

Looking back at that first poem, and the comments, I think I still write with all of these folks, from time to time. That makes me happy.

To Jim, I say thank you for being a great poet, and a great first commentor. Happy Thanksgiving to all....and to all a good night..

Wait...I think I've got my holidays are mixed up...ah well...
posted by wendy at 9:17 AM 4 comments

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Heroic

I find this a hard prompt. I don't believe in heroes. I believe in effort. I believe in ordinary people forgetting themselves for moments, losing themselves in greatness. No one who is a hero, ever intended to be one. They just let IT happen. Then they go back to ordinary life, eating, sleeping and pooping like the rest of us.

I used to think of this blogspere as sort of heroic. So many people honestly sharing just moments, snippets of their lives. But then I read Neil's post yesterday..( I haven't been reading anything much...) and he talked about this site Trainwrecks..where they pick apart blogs as being too....They pick the "too"....too.....needy..self involved....stupid.....inane,...see what I mean "too anything".

(Just an aside here, I know Neil isn't a boy scout...he lets his penis talk for him, is very interested in getting laid, and seeing lots of girls boobs (I assume girls??).. and is a very human, needy guy(person)..just like the rest of us. I really like him for being boring some times and trying to figure out his marriage. He makes me laugh often...for he is very normal..thus capable of heroics I suppose..certainly open to the possibility..)

Neil took it like a man, when someone included a reference to his blog. I'm not so sure I could be so cavalier. I immediately took down my pic, and thought how lame I have been for posting my little thoughts of my little life. For the people that have visited here, surely, meant well, right??...They are just curious. People curious about people in general..seekers, right??...but I was wrong. As far as I know.. my little site hasn't been featured. But that's not the point at all. The point is that there are mean people amongst us. I am not a mean person...really not a mean bone in my body. I can be a bitch..and catty too...but I would not, or could not get off on ripping people apart..or making fun of others. I am not always kind. Sometimes I am not interested in what I read on blogs. But I consider that my bias..my preference. Not the particular bloggers problem.

This concept really rocked my little brain... and made me realize that while I don't believe in HEROES per Se, I do believe in villains. Where as heroics are fleeting moments of greatness..a state incapable of permanence..brief flirtations with the optimum, I do believe that evil impulses can consume you..really possess you.

Evil sucks you dry...kills the possibility. Evil is dead. By this I mean that evil does not breed life. It is not useful or fertile. It is stagnant and beyond stagnant, it is a parasite. I have always known that dark, is the absence of light. If you court the dark too long, can you even see the light?

So I suppose you must follow this logic... If villains do exist...than the opposite must also exist..the yin to their yang. What goes up must come down... There are an awful lot of villains living on this space we call blog. So I suppose there must be an equal quantity of heroes..but that seems far harder to believe. Does good always triumph over evil?..tip the scales? I fear not. Its always an equal battle.. a cats game...a draw.

I always assumed every ones intentions here in this "blogshere" to be.. no,not pure..but not evil either. I was wrong again. Boy, am I naive! I'm not sure I want to play this anymore.... but I'm sure I'll get over it. For now I'll be in the corner....licking the wound to my psyche.

I blame this all on Sunday Scribblings They started it!!
posted by wendy at 11:18 AM 13 comments

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Procrastination is just another word for MEME

Thanks to Rose of Sharon, for giving me an excuse to yet again justify not writing my 1600 words this morning on my novel THINGIE. That's right! Now my future bestsellers name is THINGIE. Riveting..huh.

So to take a break, Ms. Ruminating sticks me with the letter U. Thanks dear, really. So here it is....

10 things that ROCK starting with the letter U

1. U-2. Elevation is one song I can always rock to..and A beautiful day...and Still haven't found what I'm looking for...and...and...(you get the picture) My favorite U-2 moment..Bono meeting Bill Gates, who had never heard their music. Taking Melinda to a concert in Seattle...and saying they were pretty good.

2. Unicorn. Looks like a horse that can talk to me..and bends down do I can get on, always good. and never is covered in filth/mud/you don't want to know. Is always gleaming and wears posies in his tail...oh and follows instructions I whisper in his ear...and never steps on my foot.

3. Umbrella. I never have an umbrella when I need one. I always get soaked. I love that part. But I still like umbrellas. I think they look like art, esp old antique one's with bamboo handles. I also like photographs of umbrellas.

4. Unique. Most days this word is my friend. I like unique. It runs right through my core. Other days I feel like I settle for the word, because anything else is impossible.

5. Ubiquitous. a shout out to a college boy's blog I read. Definition (roughly) everywhere at one time, thus always present. This would be a really good thing.

6. Ukulele I love Hawaiian music..not Don Hoe's Tiny Bubbles.. but IZ singing somewhere over the rainbow, makes me weep, and Lilo and Stitch sound track rocks...hey, Elvis liked it too...I can't be that weird!!

7.Undressing. No description needed.

8. United States of America. Praying, hoping for the united to make a comeback.

9. Upward.or just up. Stop looking down. Cast your eyes Upward!!

10. Until The most hopeful word I know. The word of plot twists and surprises and of happy trails. Until is a prayer.



5 bummer U Words



1. UnderestimateThe person who underestimates is always pompous, and usually wrong.

2. Undertaker just a creepy job title.

3. Uneaten. In my family, this means Left overs, which for some reason, do not get used up, so I have to cook...again.

4. Used Up Everyone feels like this from time to time. Never a good or pretty day.

5. Ugly. Although when ugly is coupled with Betty.. Then its a whole other matter.But, more often though,its used as a judgement. a verdict. a slander. Just a hateful word.


There. Thanks Sharon...Now I have to get back to the task at hand.

PS... Undressed could go on both lists. Depends on who you are undressing for...
posted by wendy at 10:23 AM 5 comments

Friday, November 10, 2006

And so it goes....

My job is weird. I am deeply touched by the kids I work with each day. That doesn't mean it doesn't get bizarre. This crazy story I from yesterdays bag of tricks.

I flit around..ok, trip around the halls of the k-3 elementary school where I work. I see the same kids every day, but I only spend an hour or so in each class. I spend the most time in Kindergarten. I have triplets, yep, identical triplet boys with whom I spend my mornings. Yesterday only two came to school.

"A" did not come. He is my highest needs triplet, very charming, very moody. I asked both "Z" and "J" what was wrong with A. Z is a wisp of a boy. He has grown taller than his brothers. He is quiet, and loves flowers of all kinds. His hardest challenges involve pencils and scissors. But he is smart as a whip. So when he told me that A's toe fell off, I was surprised. He isn't a fibber, and most all of his stories make sense. I asked him to tell me again. He said that his little brother "S" had slammed A's foot in the door. A had gone to the emergency room....and his toe fell off. I explained that I was sure that he was just getting checked out, maybe some stitches.

Then, like any good teacher would, I went to brother J.J is the smallest of the triplets, with softer features and the voice of a child much younger than he is. Language is his weakest skill, so I put on my very good listening ears, and asked him the same question. He agreed that S had "stuck A'sfoot in the door" and it was bleeding.

I was now fairly sure that A had a pretty sore toe. But it was a quiet day, I must confess, with him gone. The other brothers got more one on one time, and then class was over without incident. I was off to the next child on the list.

When I returned to kinder, later that day, Mrs. Muffett, the Kinder teacher, stopped me on the way to the desk of another child.

"Wendy," she said under her breath, "He was telling the truth..Zwas telling the truth! A really did have his toe cut off...by his baby brother. He slammed the door on his foot..mom took of the sock to see how bad it was...and there was the toe..disconnected!"

S, the baby brother, is at my guess, 4 years old. I had to find a miniature chair and sit down. I was dumbstruck.

Oh poor A!!! and the mom...she's a nurse so at least she new to save the toe...which has been reattached, though they don't know if it will take...and Poor Z, who had been telling the truth all along. I hadn't believed him..it seemed irrational that a 4 year old could do that much damage.

My mind was spinning as I finally made it to the table to help my last kid of the day. My last little guy has damage to his speech centers, so his language is random.. garbled, though consistently garbled. While working with our scissors, he let me know that his mom and dad were"broken"(divorcing). To express this he held his hands up and motioned like he was snapping a stick in two pieces. We "talked" about it. I asked him if he was sad. He said " manny wa". Very sad.

Checking back in with Mrs Muffett, I asked if the info I got was correct. She looked stunned as I repeated what he had "told me". It was all true. But she was amazed that he had made himself "understandable" to me. I shared that just tried to follow his intent. and just understood. I don't know how.

Driving home, I marveled at the day. These children tell you so much, if you just listen to them. There lives are unpredictable, violent, and real..They deal with life directly, just as simply as learning there A B C's or that snack time comes right after recess. I have to say I find them heroic.
posted by wendy at 4:08 PM 4 comments

Thursday, November 09, 2006

The artists way...for Poetry Thursday

My artist date, I suppose, takes place in the classroom. I'm back to work, and have finally hit my WALL. I always knew there would be one kid who would break me...not my spirit, but my heart. I met him on Tuesday. His name sounds like a sonnet, very lyrical. But that just it..the problem. He is a selective mute. He does not speak...at all. I've heard rumors that he will, with his mother, but, rumors are rampant at school.

Frankly, the behavior of some of my peers at school makes my blood run cold. Don't get me wrong. These are really hard kids to work with some times. Sometimes you kid yourself, you tell yourself that your task is impossible. You just do the best you can. In moments of dull faithless void, you even may suppose, its all a game the child is playing, to get attention. I hear that one A LOT. Funny, how we so accurately identify the excuses of others, and call our own same diversions by a different name...reasons.

The hard truth is, perhaps we will not fix any of these kids. Perhaps they are not broken. Perhaps they are just different. But, for some I fear, it's just that they are too broken. Their souls splintered before kindergarten. They are the end of a fairy tale that was never true. Happily ever after is more often than not, a lie.

But then he lifts his blue eyes, for just a second, and I begin to believe again. I will look harder today for the right magic wand.

Selective

I.

There must be a genius
between your eyes
trimmed with wisps
of wheaten hair
soft as young
corn silk tassels.

They accuse you
of willful intent.
not playground mischief
or hide and seek.
They call you
a cheater.


They say your
silence is a lie.
A ploy for seconds.
An excuse to cut in line
to take more
than your share
of love and attention.


Someone heard you in
the grocery aisle,
ask you Mother for your
favorite breakfast cereal.
The spy dropped her
eggs on the floor.
She let her milk
go to sour, to run
to report you.

You could.
She had heard it
with her own ears.
You just won't.

II

For two whole years
not one word.
enough silence to fill
a lifetime.


III

Now you are mine
to crack like
an oyster.

But you made
this pearl.
It's your
grain of sand,
not mine.

Have you grown a
bone of stillness
inside you
soul?

I will not pry
you open.

I will wait
and take you
to shallow
safe water.



wlf 8:11am

The way to Poetry Thursday is twisted.. come on, I know a short cut... Its right Here

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posted by wendy at 7:46 AM 22 comments

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

America

I still believe I am America. Do you still believe you are America?
posted by wendy at 8:28 AM 3 comments

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Morning for Sunday Scribblings



We put a bark collar on Mia last night. My morning,hence, has been quiet..so far. I feel like a real tyrant for doing this. I don't think electro-shock therapy is humane for People. Why subject my dog?

Because ELECTRICITY is one thing she seems to respect. Since the electric fence went up..she has stayed in our yard. Chain link fences.. 5 foot wood barriers...oh no..no match for her..Short of razor wire twirled on the top like a crazy violent flourish, an electric fence was actually a compromise! I did briefly consider a moat... but found out that it was against my covenant regulations and restrictions. Drat! I've always wanted an alligator..oh well.

What does ANY OF THIS have to do with Mornings???(the gals at SS like us to stay on task..)Well..here goes the tie in... Each morning, Mia my dear, sweet,slobbery freedom craving, fence scaling St. Bernard loves to herald the dawn...by growling/barking/verbally eviscerating each and every stupid person that decides to walk their dogs off leash down the fairway that poses as our back yard.

I run down stairs each day...in panties and/or robe and fly out on my deck SCREAMING at her TO SHUT UP!!! I should be screaming at the STUPID ASS people who decide to terrorize my dog with their bait animals.. but I'm too nice for that. (clears her throat).

The golf course acts as an natural amphitheatre and our house sits at the opening,yes the quivering lips, of its huge gaping mouth. So at roughly 5:50 each morning..the whole neighbor hood gets treated to Mia's aria..."Go away, you wanky asshole..Get off my land" Then, my counter aria.."MIA, I swear if I had a gun..." (JUST KIDDING)
The whole incident puts a serious cramp in my down dog..sun salutation zen yoga vibe I"m trying to get going here...(Just Kidding again...girls, really..go clear a chakra or something).

But, as I sit here, I am struck with a much better idea... can't I just buy some remote control Electric device..so I can shock The Intruders, right at the head of the golf cart trail. So THEY STOP! Hey, I bet I could train Mia to push that button... She'd be really good at it...Her motto is to protect and serve...She loves the smell of voltage in the morning.. It smell like victory!! BOOOWWW WOOOOWWW!

Well that just about sums things up this morning...any time you're in the Denver area...stop by and I'll show you our whole set up...You'll know our house..just follow the audible buzzing in the air!


Oh what a beautiful morning..at Sunday Scribblings...
posted by wendy at 9:19 AM 10 comments

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Dancing around in my head..for Poetry Thursday...

Right now I feel like I'm playing hookey from this novel challenge thingie.. But poetry is my heart. I have many thoughts constantly doing the hokey pokey in my cranium. I've never done yoga or chanting because The "quiet your thoughts part" is the death of me. So since I love parody...I think I'll make the title of this poem something very firmiliar.



quiet,about a lot of things

the class said tic.
she thought toc
but no one heard
the poem she made
inside her head.

the man said yes.
she thought no
maybe he did not hear
the protest she made
between her legs.

the child said nothing
she thought yes (finally)
no one will heard
when words break free
inside my mouth.

wlf 9:27


See ya all next Week at Poetry Thursday

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posted by wendy at 9:08 AM 10 comments