1. Learn more about, and write a midrash
2. Write more about people you've never met, like the giant man on the metro
3. Post something you've written
4. Be a better friend
5. Learn who your friends are - I often wonder if this task will last for my entire life - will you be my friend?
6. Make more 'to do' lists and check things off
7. figure out how to make boxes in the blogging text, check this one off
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
story for work
this is a story i had to write for my americorps job... i had to write it pretty fast, so it hasn't been edited, but i've been busy lately, and haven't posted much, so here's this...
In the corner of the park on San Julian and 5th St. on Skid Row in Los Angeles, California, is an angel. As the morning sun shone on the old brick building that was parallel to the street, the ivy shone a deep shade of green, the leaves holding the light like a child holding a precious gift. The westerly wall, a faded cream color, probably ‘Swiss White Mocha’ or another factory option with an equally appealing name to it, created a casual corner for empty benches and dead shrubberies which lined it. By the gate, the proverbial scent of marijuana and grape bubble gum infuses the air. It took me five months to notice this angel, but when I finally did, it changed my life.
Just outside the park, on the bus stop sign a woman hangs and dangles. She is one of many women who often keep themselves up by holding on to this not-so-sturdy post. When I stop to wonder and really think about who these women are and what they might need, I am often baffled at the seemingly impossible means through which they are forced to survive. My heart aches for a moment in the beauty of the day and the sorrow before me; then she stops, and smiles at me, so I smile back, because it is all that I have to give, and I am reminded of the angel in the corner, and remember that angels don’t always show their wings.
Turning the next corner onto San Pedro, walking towards Union Rescue Mission, and the building where our after-school program meets, watching my feet, being sure not to step on the cracks, because, Aaliyah, one of the Kindergarteners in our program says that one should not step on them, I watch as a stray drop of spit from the man yelling obscenities hits my shoe. It could be worse, I think as I continue walking, wondering if I’m late. The man went on and on about the injustices in Los Angeles, the United States, the world. He stopped for a moment when he got to Africa, and then shouted, “But there is hope! There is hope!” I smiled as Pete Seeger sang, “We shall overcome” in my headphones. There he stood, yet another angel on the corner, shouting for justice, and proclaiming hope where it is so desperately needed.
As I walked into the building thinking of all the mess that is this world we live in, I got excited to see Bam Bam, Aaliyah’s older brother who is autistic and has ADHD. Bam Bam is unable to participate daily in our program, but he stops by at the end of every day with his mother to pick up his younger sister. I have known him for about 5 months now. He used to run in, wreaking havoc however he could, slamming doors, turning lights off or on, hitting people, throwing things, etc… Knowing that there was little I personally could do to keep him from doing these things, I decided to try talking to him, asking him silly questions, knowing full well that he might never verbalise his answers to me. That day, walking into our building, it was so exciting to walk into our building and remember Bam Bam playing with his favorite game, “Let’s Go Fishin,” and yelling, “Bishy!” (his version of my name, Misty) when I walked in. The smile on his face sincere and mischievous, I wondered what he might do. Expecting him to run around and throw a fish at someone, or to turn the lights off, I was so pleasantly surprised when he ran up and hugged me, and then returned to his game in the corner by himself. With the hood of his oversized sweatshirt hanging on his crouched back, for a moment, it almost looked as if Bam Bam had a wing, and was preparing to take flight towards the heavens.
These angels remind me each day of the beauty that exists in this world. That, though sometimes a situations may appear dire or intimidating, with patience and a smile, and the willingness to notice and pay attention to what often seems unimportant, we might be reminded that there is in fact hope, a great deal of it in fact.
In the corner of the park on San Julian and 5th St. on Skid Row in Los Angeles, California, is an angel. As the morning sun shone on the old brick building that was parallel to the street, the ivy shone a deep shade of green, the leaves holding the light like a child holding a precious gift. The westerly wall, a faded cream color, probably ‘Swiss White Mocha’ or another factory option with an equally appealing name to it, created a casual corner for empty benches and dead shrubberies which lined it. By the gate, the proverbial scent of marijuana and grape bubble gum infuses the air. It took me five months to notice this angel, but when I finally did, it changed my life.
Just outside the park, on the bus stop sign a woman hangs and dangles. She is one of many women who often keep themselves up by holding on to this not-so-sturdy post. When I stop to wonder and really think about who these women are and what they might need, I am often baffled at the seemingly impossible means through which they are forced to survive. My heart aches for a moment in the beauty of the day and the sorrow before me; then she stops, and smiles at me, so I smile back, because it is all that I have to give, and I am reminded of the angel in the corner, and remember that angels don’t always show their wings.
Turning the next corner onto San Pedro, walking towards Union Rescue Mission, and the building where our after-school program meets, watching my feet, being sure not to step on the cracks, because, Aaliyah, one of the Kindergarteners in our program says that one should not step on them, I watch as a stray drop of spit from the man yelling obscenities hits my shoe. It could be worse, I think as I continue walking, wondering if I’m late. The man went on and on about the injustices in Los Angeles, the United States, the world. He stopped for a moment when he got to Africa, and then shouted, “But there is hope! There is hope!” I smiled as Pete Seeger sang, “We shall overcome” in my headphones. There he stood, yet another angel on the corner, shouting for justice, and proclaiming hope where it is so desperately needed.
As I walked into the building thinking of all the mess that is this world we live in, I got excited to see Bam Bam, Aaliyah’s older brother who is autistic and has ADHD. Bam Bam is unable to participate daily in our program, but he stops by at the end of every day with his mother to pick up his younger sister. I have known him for about 5 months now. He used to run in, wreaking havoc however he could, slamming doors, turning lights off or on, hitting people, throwing things, etc… Knowing that there was little I personally could do to keep him from doing these things, I decided to try talking to him, asking him silly questions, knowing full well that he might never verbalise his answers to me. That day, walking into our building, it was so exciting to walk into our building and remember Bam Bam playing with his favorite game, “Let’s Go Fishin,” and yelling, “Bishy!” (his version of my name, Misty) when I walked in. The smile on his face sincere and mischievous, I wondered what he might do. Expecting him to run around and throw a fish at someone, or to turn the lights off, I was so pleasantly surprised when he ran up and hugged me, and then returned to his game in the corner by himself. With the hood of his oversized sweatshirt hanging on his crouched back, for a moment, it almost looked as if Bam Bam had a wing, and was preparing to take flight towards the heavens.
These angels remind me each day of the beauty that exists in this world. That, though sometimes a situations may appear dire or intimidating, with patience and a smile, and the willingness to notice and pay attention to what often seems unimportant, we might be reminded that there is in fact hope, a great deal of it in fact.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
repose
hildegard von bingen is a woman who i have a great deal of respect for. having lived from (roughly around) 1098-1179, she was one of the earliest feminists on record. she wrote about womens lives in unique ways and empowered creation to move towards God. in an effort to train myself in the art of research, i may consume more of my 'blog real estate' on her.
until then, i think i'll rest a bit from writing, unelss something particularly good flows from the tips of these cold and dry hands.
until then, i think i'll rest a bit from writing, unelss something particularly good flows from the tips of these cold and dry hands.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
felicity
On a telephone pole sat a dripping seagull. It had been a quiet, peaceful day, but the night in her little suburban town turned stormy. When a gust of wind uprooted her from her perch, she went soaring, straight down into the water below. While falling, she adjusted her feathers and wings to take flight, but with a broken wing, things like this are quite difficult. Upon contact with the water, frustrated yet unwilling to consign herself to a fate of drowning in 3 feet of water in a blow-up kiddy pool, in a strangers backyard. . . she thrust herself up with every bit of strength that she could muster, and floated -as awkwardly as any soaking bird with a broken wing would- to the top of the lowest pole and assumed her position; waiting and watching.
At least her eyes were still good.
Friday, January 23, 2009
trial one
so much for deadlines... i'm 23 minutes late... but somehow, that seems slightly appropriate.
in looking through old journals, hoping that i might find some gem to throw up here, and not taking as much time as would seem necessary, i found beautiful stories and great memories that i'd written down, and kept through pictures, etc...
though i'm not posting any of them now, i think tomorrow i'll start a series of notes from old books, perhaps looking back will inspire something new.
remembering has always been a useful tool for me. perhaps looking backwards will help me move forwards.
until next time,
peace & love,
the mist
in looking through old journals, hoping that i might find some gem to throw up here, and not taking as much time as would seem necessary, i found beautiful stories and great memories that i'd written down, and kept through pictures, etc...
though i'm not posting any of them now, i think tomorrow i'll start a series of notes from old books, perhaps looking back will inspire something new.
remembering has always been a useful tool for me. perhaps looking backwards will help me move forwards.
until next time,
peace & love,
the mist
Thursday, January 22, 2009
22 january 2009
writing deadline #1:
23:23
23 january 2009.
because 23 was my favorite number when i was 6.
because 2 times 3 was 6.
and 6 was my golden birthday, and that was supposed to mean something.
and because it is 24 hours from when i started writing this post.
23:23
23 january 2009.
because 23 was my favorite number when i was 6.
because 2 times 3 was 6.
and 6 was my golden birthday, and that was supposed to mean something.
and because it is 24 hours from when i started writing this post.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
the one
so, i think i'm ready.
it's time.
i have been coming into myself lately and i feel really good about this.
i have even been shopping at, you know, less usual places than the mall and church.
though i wish i could find 'the one' at bake sales or consignment stores, i'm not quite sure that those would be the best places.
rummage sales maybe?... coffee shops can be good, but they are usually only good for the eclectic, "i won't last as long as you'd like you would like me to," type.
i am looking for strong, and soft, the right amount of delicate - yet sturdy, and long lasting. this is one of those "love at first sight" and way beyond "just like" situations...
when i find the right one, the one...
the whole world, i think, will stop and say, "yeah, that bag looks real good."
it's time.
i have been coming into myself lately and i feel really good about this.
i have even been shopping at, you know, less usual places than the mall and church.
though i wish i could find 'the one' at bake sales or consignment stores, i'm not quite sure that those would be the best places.
rummage sales maybe?... coffee shops can be good, but they are usually only good for the eclectic, "i won't last as long as you'd like you would like me to," type.
i am looking for strong, and soft, the right amount of delicate - yet sturdy, and long lasting. this is one of those "love at first sight" and way beyond "just like" situations...
when i find the right one, the one...
the whole world, i think, will stop and say, "yeah, that bag looks real good."
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