So, normally I really hate fast food. But every once in awhile I just crave something. Like right now, I seriously need some biscuits from KFC. Just biscuits really. Though, when I go I will probably get cole slaw too. And in discussing this with John, we have decided that KFC also has some ok mashed potatoes, but their gravy is icky. I don't think I could ever eat KFC gravy again. Well, maybe if it meant money or I had to do it to save my life or something. But it's just not good.
Now what is good is my homemade gravy. It makes me a little angry thinking about it, since my dad taught me to make it. I guess something good did come out of him. We always joked that if some day I were to get fat, we could easily blame it on homemade gravy. It's not really good for you- it's grease from fried chicken, a bit of flour, milk, and salt. Yeah, it's downright bad for you. But oh so good. And I really only make it once a year or so, so I think my otherwise healthy lifestyle can handle it.
This has made me really want to make it. But I think I will just eat biscuits and be merry.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Forty-Nine Percent
The feelings in the poem resurfaced yesterday/today, so I figured it was appropriate. I need to do some revising on it, but here's the original version.
Note: My mother is currently in the middle of a nightmare of a divorce. The "you" in this is my three little brothers ( ages 8, 11, 13) who still live at home and have to deal with it.
Forty-Nine Percent
What would you think if I kidnapped
you? If we left your Mom and
your Dad in Missouri and disappeared
together. I look at the scene
that I have left you in, the scene
our parents have written: you’re
all characters in a Shakespearean tragedy
waiting for the inevitable ending—bodies
strewn across a wooden stage. The guilt
I feel for leaving you there lingers
around me like the cold of winter
at the end of February. When the joy
of snow is gone and all you’re left
with is that fucking bitter wind that bites
flesh off your uncovered face. The only
solution I can see is taking you away
before the curtain falls. Before
they have completely forgotten that it is you
they should be fighting for. You. And not
the destruction of one another. Together
we can leave. We can say “Fuck you!”
to your father: the man who makes
us all feel like we are fish in a tank
full of algae, slowly suffocating
in filth. When you come home
from school I will be waiting
to see your tissue paper butterflies,
to kiss your proud smiles and hold
your small exploring hands. Your father
will not be there with his finger pointed
like a sword, ready to poke through
the innocent insect and say
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Pop!”
and pronounce your beautiful creation
dead at the scene.
"Fuck you!” to trips to overnight camp
ending with Mom calling the cops
and them meeting her at Quick
Trip where your dad will drop you
off, because he picked you up without
permission and Mom is scared that one day
he really will kidnap you; because forty-nine
percent of kidnappings are committed
by family members of the victims:
mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers,
aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, brothers,
or sisters,
and she's worried he will be the one
to finally take you away, so far she won’t
ever see you again. “Fuck you!”
to the goddamn United States legal
system who listens to every lie
that comes out of his mouth, just because
he is a goddamn Major in the fucking
United States Army. They want to believe
that he is good and honorable and that you
will be safe with him. Because the world
needs heroes and he wears the uniform
that ignorant Americans praise. They would
rather bow down to him and his ridged
rules and regulations then think about
love and commitment. They don’t see
you cry at night, wishing
any of this made sense. Wishing
that you didn’t have to question
if he loves you, if he’ll be there next
week, if he’ll make you feel like
running away, like cutting your wrist.
Wishing that he was still the arms
you remember from years ago. Arms
that held warmth.
What would you say? If I kidnapped
you? What would you think if you knew
I wanted to take you away
and never had the courage?
Note: My mother is currently in the middle of a nightmare of a divorce. The "you" in this is my three little brothers ( ages 8, 11, 13) who still live at home and have to deal with it.
Forty-Nine Percent
What would you think if I kidnapped
you? If we left your Mom and
your Dad in Missouri and disappeared
together. I look at the scene
that I have left you in, the scene
our parents have written: you’re
all characters in a Shakespearean tragedy
waiting for the inevitable ending—bodies
strewn across a wooden stage. The guilt
I feel for leaving you there lingers
around me like the cold of winter
at the end of February. When the joy
of snow is gone and all you’re left
with is that fucking bitter wind that bites
flesh off your uncovered face. The only
solution I can see is taking you away
before the curtain falls. Before
they have completely forgotten that it is you
they should be fighting for. You. And not
the destruction of one another. Together
we can leave. We can say “Fuck you!”
to your father: the man who makes
us all feel like we are fish in a tank
full of algae, slowly suffocating
in filth. When you come home
from school I will be waiting
to see your tissue paper butterflies,
to kiss your proud smiles and hold
your small exploring hands. Your father
will not be there with his finger pointed
like a sword, ready to poke through
the innocent insect and say
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Pop!”
and pronounce your beautiful creation
dead at the scene.
"Fuck you!” to trips to overnight camp
ending with Mom calling the cops
and them meeting her at Quick
Trip where your dad will drop you
off, because he picked you up without
permission and Mom is scared that one day
he really will kidnap you; because forty-nine
percent of kidnappings are committed
by family members of the victims:
mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers,
aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, brothers,
or sisters,
and she's worried he will be the one
to finally take you away, so far she won’t
ever see you again. “Fuck you!”
to the goddamn United States legal
system who listens to every lie
that comes out of his mouth, just because
he is a goddamn Major in the fucking
United States Army. They want to believe
that he is good and honorable and that you
will be safe with him. Because the world
needs heroes and he wears the uniform
that ignorant Americans praise. They would
rather bow down to him and his ridged
rules and regulations then think about
love and commitment. They don’t see
you cry at night, wishing
any of this made sense. Wishing
that you didn’t have to question
if he loves you, if he’ll be there next
week, if he’ll make you feel like
running away, like cutting your wrist.
Wishing that he was still the arms
you remember from years ago. Arms
that held warmth.
What would you say? If I kidnapped
you? What would you think if you knew
I wanted to take you away
and never had the courage?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
House of the Rising Sun
We're listening to all kinds of amazing old music here at the house tonight. Everyone else should be doing the same.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Augustana~Boston
So my best friend is thinking about moving to Chicago. She works for a company with office all over the U.S.(and the world, really); her current account is moving to the Chicago office. So she can either move there, or move to a new project in St. Louis. She's always wanted to move to Chicago, but she's having trouble facing the thought of starting all over again in a new city. My recent discussion with her about this potential move brought up this song: about moving and starting over.
It's never been a problem for me moving. I never saw myself staying in St. Louis, even though my family is there. I took baby steps. Moving 4 hours away for college, to Colorado for an internship, and then to Baltimore for grad school. I never really thought much about moving, it always just made the most sense. Although it was hard leaving my family, it was what needed to be done. Not that it was easy; I still got homesick and questioned my decisions, but it all worked out. I mean, I was originally only going to be in Maryland for 3 years-for school. Now I could be here for a really long time. Falling in love changes your plans.
This song is funny cause I was talking about how happy I was I didn't end up going to school in Boston, even though that was always my dream. It's not so appealing now, what with the idiot baseball fans and the huge amounts of snow. Plus I would never have met John if I went there and not Baltimore. Coming to Maryland was not my plan at all, but somewhere along the lines of planning, it just ended up falling into place perfectly. I just had to get up and go.
Sometimes you have to leave things behind and move on. Maybe not be as depressing as this song, but yeah. Life involves change. How ready are we for it? Usually, not very. But I am a firm believer in not letting fear guide you.
Augustana - Boston lyrics
It's never been a problem for me moving. I never saw myself staying in St. Louis, even though my family is there. I took baby steps. Moving 4 hours away for college, to Colorado for an internship, and then to Baltimore for grad school. I never really thought much about moving, it always just made the most sense. Although it was hard leaving my family, it was what needed to be done. Not that it was easy; I still got homesick and questioned my decisions, but it all worked out. I mean, I was originally only going to be in Maryland for 3 years-for school. Now I could be here for a really long time. Falling in love changes your plans.
This song is funny cause I was talking about how happy I was I didn't end up going to school in Boston, even though that was always my dream. It's not so appealing now, what with the idiot baseball fans and the huge amounts of snow. Plus I would never have met John if I went there and not Baltimore. Coming to Maryland was not my plan at all, but somewhere along the lines of planning, it just ended up falling into place perfectly. I just had to get up and go.
Sometimes you have to leave things behind and move on. Maybe not be as depressing as this song, but yeah. Life involves change. How ready are we for it? Usually, not very. But I am a firm believer in not letting fear guide you.
Augustana - Boston lyrics
Sunday, February 17, 2008
K's Log
I think I am drawn to K's Log because of all the pictures. Every time (well, maybe not every time...) there's something new and interesting to visit. I love her most recent post (2 to 5 minute Free Associations...) because of the way the pictures interact with the poem. The first one, with the double doors just amazes me. I think it's how different the two doors are; one looks newer while th other is very worn. But really, neither is that impressive. I am in love with the worn door though. Don't ask why.
My other favorite pic set are the clouds. I have a friend who loves cloud pics so I am often just snapping pics of clouds as well. And in just obsessing for that friend, I have become a watcher of the sky. While I still prefer stars, clouds just draw me in now. It's really not safe to just watch the sky when you're driving, but oh so much more fun. Here's one pic from awhile back, sometime soon after I moved to Maryland...
My other favorite pic set are the clouds. I have a friend who loves cloud pics so I am often just snapping pics of clouds as well. And in just obsessing for that friend, I have become a watcher of the sky. While I still prefer stars, clouds just draw me in now. It's really not safe to just watch the sky when you're driving, but oh so much more fun. Here's one pic from awhile back, sometime soon after I moved to Maryland...
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