Ten thousand words swarm around my head
Ten million more in books written beneath my bed
I wrote or read them all when searching in the swarms
Still can't find out how to hold my hands

Good thing I've nowhere to go...

I want to relay that, on this Christmas Eve in the morning...

- I slept in until 11, then had lunch

- My mother microwaved me a cup of Tang and bestowed upon me a sweet slice of yulekaka (which I initially said, "Hey Mom, is that yulegaga?" Clearly I've been listening to too much Gaga.)

- I've come to realization that my hair has ascended to the adherent powers of Velcro, and that in fact, it might possibly be Velcro.

- My brother is playing live video games and speaking with someone over a headset, someone who's mother is undoubtedly concerned that their son, too, is playing Call of Duty on Christmas Eve morning. And I'm laughing, because I could never truly understand the allure of it all, and I long for the days when he'd sit around in a full diaper and play with his trains.

Ridiculous. Merry Christmas Eve!

Snowflake Builder!

Make yo' own flakes!

Different Views

Invisible Man

Simply incredible.

The night I saw the light,

It was a deep, deep realization that everyone has choices, everything is for the seizing, everybody is tracing their owns lines through each day, all is well.

We've witnessed these things, and pondered, walked the light of day and swam through thick darkness of dreams, scenes of life. The condensation formed on the windows. We spoke to speak of good things, we found treasury in facts, the buildup of encouragment.

And it doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter how---it only matters that we're breathing, and that we make our breathing matter.

Best Days

I count the steps
the distance to the time
when it was me and you
So
far
gone

Another face
Another friend
Another place
Another end
But I'll play on.

Have I found you 
Flightless bird

Jealous

Weeping or lost 

You

American mouth 
Big pill looming. 

Metro Map

My Christmas gift…to myself.

I need more London in my life.

My eyes are just a little sweaty today.

Chinese Translation

I sailed a wild, wild sea
climbed up a tall, tall mountain
I met a old, old man
beneath a weeping willow tree
He said, "Now if you got some questions
go and lay them at my feet,
but my time here is brief
so you'll have to pick just three."

And I said,
What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart?
And how can a man like me remain in the light…
And if life is really as short as they say
Then why is the night so long?
And then the sun went down
And he sang for me this song…

(Nate Williams)

This sounds like the life: Living in an English country house (in England, of course), playing croquet with my English Foxhound, and drinking tea. Forever.

Repellent

Ryan Christen After much thought over the perfect Christmas gift for my sister, I finally landed on the perfect one: boyfriend repellent. Now I just need somebody to wrap my industrial-sized self up!

Jenny M Christen

you could only be talking about HBC — i don't have a boyfriend to repel, and kacy's married to einstein. maybe you should wrap pork and beans in the box, too!

Ryan Christen

yes, i am, but boyfriends are like mosquitoes. eventually you will need the repellent. fortunately, i'm the gift that keeps on giving.

*HBC is my younger sister that is never boyfriendless and always sassy.

**Pork and Beans are my brother's turtles.

***Regardless of being "the gift that keeps on giving," I'm not sure I want my brother further scaring away boys from me.

****It's the thought that counts.

Want this dress.

How to Kiss
------------------
--Keep my mouth clean
--I need to put deodorant on
--Take my time
--Easy does it
--Enjoyed it
--Be yourself
--Take charge
--Put feeling into it
--Wait for the right moment
--Feel a connection

Nothing like some Cake on a Monday afternoon, when you're knees deep in a Poetics Form & Theory paper. Yum.

The Guitar Man - Cake

A winter's day, I am alone

I Am A Rock - Simon & Garfunke...

A winter's day

In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

I feel defeated.

The worst part about today is, I’m beginning to realize that I’m absolutely addicted to caffeine. I thought this before, but now it’s been affirmed by headaches and desperate tendencies. I can’t and won’t study without it. Knowing that I’d be pulling an all-nighter one evening last week, I went to three places in search of caffeine. The first, McDonald’s, was closed (just when I was finally willing to give them business, they turn me away!) At my second attempt in the Taco Bell drive thru, I learned that my windows were frozen closed, so I was unable to order and drove away in defeat. Then I tried my hand at the M & H gas station up the street and struck it rich: Forty-four (44) ounces of sweet, sweet Diet Coke in a cup that I couldn’t grip with one hand. This beverage lasted me well through the night and into the morning, which by then, was Watered Diet Coke. Success! Headache.

And another thing: my sister is always trying to get me to go to the gym with her! The GYM! I said, “Heidi, really? Are you tryn’a tell me som’thin here?” and she always shakes her head, “Nuh uh!” but I translate, sister. She’s concerned that since I’m not growing any taller (and unfortunately, only getting wider) that it’s time I hit the elliptical. I say that takes TIME and all I got time to do these days is try to find all the bobbie pins that are lost in my hair, then eat caffeine. I KNOW the gym is a great place to meet guys, especially ones with muscles and strong, sweaty egos, but really. Really? Those machines give me headaches and make me feel like I’m working too hard. And who wants to work too hard? Overachievers? Babies? Panda bears? Meat heads in Under Armour with sticks of deodorant strapped to their biceps?

Fail.

Also, when this week is over I’m going to crack open the bottle of wine in the back of my frigerator and drink it through a straw, in my pajamas, while I watch TV and eat applesauce. That’s the plan.

Blowin' In The Wind (Album Ver...

The Crane Wife 3 - The Decembe...

Monday night/Tuesday morning in the spray booth! Hi-yah!

Not looking forward to getting it out of my hair. Yikes.

Get Together

This is one of my dad's favorite songs—

I feel like it's the perfect Sunday tune.

love.

Red-Eyed And Blue - Wilco

You Only Live Once - The Strok...

Now, the Daily Dose O' Jack White!

I'm thinkin' about my doorbell
When ya gonna ring it,

when ya gonna ring it.

Oh, wildly brilliant man.

Jersey Shore

Just when I thought reality TV couldn't possibly get any dumber…

Jersey Shore - MTV Shows

MTV goes and makes a show about guidos and guidettes. And I watched it.

I can't decide what's worse: Having my mind tainted by fake tans and big heads, or knowing that I'll never get that hour of my life back.

We must march, my darlings.

I'm skeptical to post these with all the negative criticism, but really. If you don't care for the imagery or "propaganda" of it all, just close your eyes and listen to Whitman. Even if it is—as many angry youtube users cried—"liberal commie propaganda," it still makes me warm inside to see a campaign that—alas!—utilizes the wonders of beloved poetry. That said, enough whining about diversity, live and let live. Ehh yey yey.

One Wing

Another concert I would love to have been at.

One wing will never ever fly
Neither yours nor mine
I fear we can only wave goodbye

I really hate to admit it, but I'm having a hard time resisting the utter absurdity of this…

I choose the rooms that I live in with care

The windows are small and the walls almost bare

There's only one bed and there's only one prayer

I listen all night for your step on the stair.

Krab Salad

On December 01, I celebrated my first anniversary of vegetarianism. This, as I mentioned several posts ago, is a gigantic achievement for me; and as this past year progressed, my life underwent gigantic changes. I waitressed for cash, took my cash on a European excursion for two months, found myself under a hairnet in a hospital cafeteria for the next two months, jetted off to the east coast for a much-needed getaway, settled into a cozy house in Fargo, and have been relearning how to live on my own. Relearning how to live on my own, I've found, includes relearning how to eat—and learning how to eat like a vegetarian.

This sounds like a scary book, How to Eat Like A Vegetarian and Other Things Your Mother Didn't Teach You. I can almost see it in a forboden corner of Barnes & Noble, right next to the other books that know they're not worth reading. Truth be told, I've a lot to learn. It turns out the practice is much more difficult than buying a jar of peanut butter and jelly, a loaf of bread, and container of multivitamins. It's about motivation and dedication—and timing, to ensure that you eat your produce before it goes bad. This is where I struggle. As traveling would have it, throwing myself across the ocean yielded many, many meals of eggplant and fromage. And living now on a college budget sometimes means canned beans and a bag of lettuce (ramen noodles don't make the cut—nothing with "powdered cooked chicken" gets in my basket).

There's been progress, and many things I've learned. For example, if an ingredient in, say, Sage Dressing (a Hornbacher's deli special if I ever saw one) is "Roasted and natural beef juices," that product is indeed not veg-friendly. Sometimes you have to take the magnifying glass to a food, or employ your Inspector Gadget intuition. Soup might look safe, until you realize it's chicken-based. Sauces with pureed bacon bits aren't kosher. Beware of crab, krab, and yes, crabby krab salad. Whatever. Just yesterday I conversed with a deli customer about the spectrum of vegetarianism as he debated over which potato salad to purchase. A fellow vegetarian himself, he wasn't aware that in addition to meat, some vegs exclude eggs from their diet (see lacto vegetarians). "Yeah, you mean a vegan," he said. No, I don't mean a vegan. (I believe there are many mistruths about veganism, as well as vegetarianism, which I won't get into.)

So I've practiced at home, away from home, and across the ocean (where I ate my weight in eggplant). I've stuck around for one year, and am going to give myself a shameless pat on the back.

Pat, pat, pat. Okay, the moment's over. Happy eatings, all.