moving on

after 8 years of posting sporadically on blogspot, i regret to inform you that this blog is now defunct. thanks for sticking in there.

want to keep tabs on my new blog? it's chock-full of grown-up things, and you can check it out at http://www.rosyricks.wordpress.com

Absence of intention, Presence of awareness.

a night at bremen cafe

russian gypsy music, would-be bob dylans gathering around tables in inky crisp peacoats. i feel like a circus, hiding my bigtop backdrop against creme de menthe walls. i am avoiding the house, i am too afraid to face the thing i am coming to hate.

there's a pretty milkshake blond wailing into the puffs of smoke, looking for eyes to meet. she finds noone, and sits down to moan her siren song. it's almost spring, hope is shining it's ever-loving light onto our midwestern faces. love is hidden beneath bulky seasonal layers, but our cheeks glow.

i am offered a shot of whiskey. the way i see it, it would be inconsiderate to refuse. i am, after all, on a mission to get drunk. there are liquors to be swilled, boasts and brags to be made, woos to be pitched here in this youthful dark. the rain came steady today, and we've gathered to drink off the clinging chill. our winters are slow and inconsistent, but once they break, we cluster together once more beneath the soft light of our local corner bars. we wait here until the glaciers melt once again.

we gather their freshly flowing waters into cupped hands and drink to each newly promised day.

when we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.

that's what nietzche said.



this has been a whirlwind of madness. apologies to all for the length of time since the last post. it isn't that i haven't wanted to write, but more a question of whether i should write the things that were concerning me most.

i've been having a difficult time adjusting to the demands of my current situation (school, work, baby, sleep, life, ect.) and want to get it all together somehow. i'm not quite sure how that will go as of yet, but i'm hanging in there with a little help from my friends.

i've had some major successes the past few weeks. primarily, i got into all of the classes i wanted for the semester and am not (yet) feeling overwhelmed by the workload. then again, i did miss ellen's class, and lord knows she likes to see us sweat. secondly, i just returned from a retreat in washington d.c. hosted by the americans for informed democracy and sierra club. it's part of a package deal. i've been chosen as one of the grant recipients for their innovators for a sustainable world project. because of the nature of this project, i'll be starting a blog to cover that aspect of my life.

but for the regular stuff, this is still yr go-to page. just before my departure to our nation's capitol, i spent the entire night indulging in music. i played base drum along with an accordian player, an accoustic base, guitar, and harmonica player. the boys informed me that what were were creating could formally be described as "swamp music." it was lots of fun.

then there was the d.c. thing. i met lots of people, saw the inside of a room for a very long time, went to a house (uc-internship?) party, got locked in a stairwell, met handsome and charming ethnic men, walked the streets til dawn, and still managed to make it to every single training session offered. the expense, of course, was at my rest. i'd ballpark that i got about 4 hours of sleep durring my d.c. experience. (take that to the bank!) there were some missed moments that i'm a little dissapointed about, but i'd say it was certianly memorable. in fact, there's an 18-year-old chilean boy texting messages to his princessa linda.

of course, the final chapter of things would be the working situation. i'm having a hard time with this situation, and am not quite sure how to handle it. the place seems to be in the thick of yet another transition (the third since i was hired in the summer) and each shift is uncomfortable, disorganized, and disappointing. i do what i can, but have come to the conclusion that the bosses would rather fire an employee than lose funding for a disruptive client. and i don't understand how i am supposed to take grief from all sides, maintain order, and be excessively courteous. i think i'm far to independent for a situation like this. i don't know.

alright. another night of awkward distraction. the project is good, things can be fine, but i have to work some things out in the mean time. i hope all yr days are beautiful, and that you are loved.

a toast

"this feels like a business meeting," i said.
"it is a business meeting."

we sit at the table, a half-liter of chilled merlot on the table. smoking covertly and dropping ash onto yr parent's velvet table runner, a last hurrah and prelude to my smoking cessation. we are silent sometimes, running uncomfortable hands against the grain of the table.

"do you find me untrustworthy?"
"we already talked about this, remember?"
"yeah, in the broader sense, yes. but do you, as an individual, think me a liar?"

tapping tapping tapping. thinking about the future, the past, the present. my son asleep in the bedroom upstairs, and we two drowning here. the last supper was taken hours before. after, i choked down a water table ( not water/table, but something) cracker and secretly whispered the body of christ.

and it seems like there have been so many last hurrahs lately.

just a few days ago, it was yr last night on earth. yet, here we are at this fucking table . we're full of resentment, and you've diagnosed us with a severe case of the broken heart. i promised you that when you die (when, not if) that i would were black, and a rose in my hair to remember you. you weren't too much moved.

it's been so strange to watch our lives fill and falter so spasmatically. nothing is reliable, real, or worthy, yet we continue on. there are invisible strings that tie us to this world. there are words and promises that we never speak but agree upon.

my mind drifts to the border. i think of him, of my newly empty apartment. raising my glass, i whisper, "a toast to personal borders, and reaching them."

the obligatory panic about love post

1.11.09

i am reaching out into the world constantly looking for love to quench my maddening thirst. i am weaving relationships with others through stories and shared experiences. each time i walk out of the house, it is toward a new adventure.

the past few weeks of my life have passed by like some whirlwind tearing me from the comfort of familiarity. i have come so far in the past twelve months, and pushed beyond that distance considerably in the past few weeks. the days bleed together and miracles burst forth with each new dawn.

i have spent much time alone, thinking about my life. what needs to change, where i want to be... the essential questions of "who am i, and where am i going?" i am going further into my work, dedicating most of my energy toward preparing myself for potential opportunities. school, the shelter, the writing, the dreaming. i pick out patterns from the future in dreams and tarot cards. tea leaves. loose feathers.

i've sent a number of letters out into the universe, and came to the realization that they are mostly love letters. not romantic love, but platonic love and surrender of pride. it's all washing away. i got a letter long overdue, only four lines long. one of the lines was "i'm sorry."

what a concept.

i guess i am sorry, too, that it's taken me so long to see my own flaws. so many people have given me the chance to change, but i didn't want to. but it's too late now, and adaptation is the only option i have. life isn't meant to be spent alone.

alpha editorial

the semester's almost over, and for that i'm grateful. no more maps, analyses, or whatever for at least a little while. i do get to celebrate winning the alpha editorial competition, and having my discriminatory experience at the planetarium made known to other folks.

if you're interested, here's a sneak peak at the essay.


Have you ever noticed that families are not welcome to attend many
public events? I experienced that feeling when my young son and I were
asked to leave the Daniel Soref Planetarium.

All day, we talked about stars. I recalled how much I'd loved going to
the planetarium at as a child, and was thrilled to have the
opportunity to share that experience with Samadhi. He loves the night
sky, and often shrieks "Moon, mama! Moon!" when we're reading his
favorite stories. Why not show him something really special?

The weekly show was focused on the northern lights and would only run
a few more times. We could look out at the stars any time, but in my
22 years of life, I've only seen the Aurora Borealis once. This was
something that would dazzle the socks off this kid.

We arrived at the planetarium 15 minutes early, purchased our tickets,
and prepared for our adventure. I talked to Samadhi about the
constellations, and we sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." My
excitement mounted, I held my son's hand as we stepped into the
auditorium.

Before I could sit down, a woman approached me. "Excuse me, but you'll
need to sit toward the front with him. By the exit." My heart sank. I
knew exactly where this was going. Suddenly, we weren't just
customers; we were the pink elephant in the room. Everyone whispered
and pointed to us, What's that baby doing trying to look at our stars?
I grudgingly took Samadhi to the front, and we plopped into the only
straight-backed folding chairs in a sea of slightly tilted, padded
theatre seats.

I felt second class, as if I were being punished because I was a mom
who wanted to take my kid out to an event that wasn't baby-centric.
Just once, I wanted to spend a Friday night with my son free of giant
commercial puppets trying to overtake my home with unnecessarily
noisy, expensive, junk.

This did not sit well. I was upset about being singled out, and
Samadhi felt it. He became restless, and naturally began to misbehave.
The same woman turned to us and said loudly, "I'm sorry, this just
isn't working." We were escorted out before the show ever began.

Most people would say, "He's a toddler, they can't sit still for long
periods." My son sat through an entire performance of Joseph and the
Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat and didn't make a peep. Assuming he
wouldn't be able to handle an experience like this was unfair, and
singling us out added insult to injury. As we left, Samadhi asked,
"What happened to stars, mama?" How do you explain to a little one
why they are being left out?

It's time to acknowledge children as a part of our society, instead of
politely banning them from events. These exclusionary practices aren't
working. Our children should share in our lives, and be welcome to
experience wonder alongside adults to learn how the world works
firsthand.

mystical visions and cosmic vibrations

according to wikipedia: Shaman perform a plethora of functions depending upon the society wherein they practise their art: healing; leading a sacrifice; preserving the tradition by storytelling and songs; fortune-telling; acting as a psychopomp (literal meaning, “guide of souls”). In some cultures, a shaman may fulfill several functions in one person.

it's always an interesting conversation to reflect on connectedness while using a personal isolation device. this is the name i've given to socially deconstructive devices like cell phones, laptops, and ipods. while drawing away from each other, we are longing to connect. the sounds and images we seek in solitude are being seen simultaneously by others, so in that sense, we are building a collective consciousness. but i believe there is something more that binds us together.

i've always been a closet mystic, conducting studies in the night and away from the prying eyes of others who might misunderstand and judge. i can't make everyone happy, but it's important for me to try and make myself understand what is happening.i would even say it's become a compulsion, this search. leaving no metaphysical rock unturned, i seeking answers from dreams and visions. i read tarot cards, tea leaves, clouds, and personal effects. i always have. some might dissapprove, but it's capturing me, helping me to hold on to some connection with the world around me. and then there's the touching thing.

anyone who knows me can tell you i'm pretty much against being touched. on occasion, i meet people who i feel perfectly at ease with, and can maintain some form personal intimacy, but for the most part, i like to keep my distance. it's not because i'm anti-social per se. it's more about the actual repercussions of physical contact. it's difficult to explain, but i'll make an effort. when people touch me, it affects me emotionally. the only way i can ever relate it to anyone else is by using a story about jesus. it's luke 8:40-47, and it goes like this:

40 And it came to pass, that, when Jesus was returned, the people gladly received him: for they were all waiting for him. 41 And, behold, there came a man named Jairus, and he was a ruler of the synagogue: and he fell down at Jesus' feet, and besought him that he would come into his house: 42 For he had one only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she lay a dying. But as he went the people thronged him.43 And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any, 44 Came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment: and immediately her issue of blood stanched. 45 And Jesus said, Who touched me? When all denied, Peter and they that were with him said, Master, the multitude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? 46 And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that power is gone out of me. 47 And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately. "

i know that's a far stretch, but something goes from me when people touch me, especially without my permission. there is an emotional drain that happens. people think i'm just being rude, but it's because it makes me sick. there are others who can help me with the simplest touch, people i press against in sleep and surrender, one of the few places i can find rest and escape from the maddness.

it's been a long time since i've had that rest, and i think i've gone and missed my opportunity. life is coming fast, and faster every day. i am seeking rest against the noise of the world inside myself. everything happens in due time.

“my home...it is my retreat and resting place from wars, i try to keep this corner as a haven against the tempest outside, as i do another corner in my soul.”
-michel de montaigne

laws control the lesser man. right conduct controls the greater one.

10.20.08

every society honors its live conformists, and its dead troublemakers.
~mignon mclaughlin, the neurotics notebook, 1960

it's been a long time since the last update, informal or otherwise. since public allies, i've found my employment inconsistent but steady . i'm finding it difficult to be gainfully employed without compromising my ethics.

i find satisfaction in my freedom, and in helping others. it seems that these two objectives are rarely found in an employment situation, especially one tha allows me to survive while supporting myself and my son. the results are stressful, more than i'd initially anticipated.

adding to this stress is the full course load i decided to take on at alverno. i've always been the type of student teachers love to hate: seldom completing assignments in a timely fashion, often working alone, always acing the test. i understand the materials, engage the eteachers and others in class, and feel satisfied with myself. the difficulty is being satisfied, but not going to the ends to prove my learning to the professors in the traditional way.

i find myself asking, "why can't i just shut up and do it?" it's as if there is this inherent desire for nonconformity in my genetic make-up. god knows life would be simpler for me. i'd be happier, more content to simply do, rather than constantly question everything, and opt to go against it.

it's a tough road; one that inspires many philosophical discussions late at night. i am finind it hard to sustain this way of being, but do not want it any other way. the struggle to find balance is unsettling, and amazing at the same time. there are so many of us out there, feeling our way around in the darkness. someday we'll collide, finding each other in a moment of perfect harmony.