on the hunt

I keep meaning to write about my first year participating in the Chinese New Year Treasure Hunt, but I am a dreadful reviewer.  Did I take notes? No. Did I record all of my thoughts as soon as I got home? Not even close. My review, therefore, goes like this: we walked (quickly, although there were moments of moseying) all over Chinatown and North Beach and the Financial District, solved puzzles, laughed a lot, and finished with only one question unanswered. At least I took some video. And let me tell you: there is nothing quite so humbling as watching oneself on video. Not exactly caveats, but it bears noting: Yes, my face really moves like that when I talk.  No, I wasn’t under the influence.  Yes, I wear that hat out in public.  No, I had no prior...

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Posted on 28 May 2009 | 2 comments

nothing good

Nothing good comes from the random days, the days spent flailing about one or two different poems or stories, the days with strangleholds on reason. Four times in the last hour I have written then deleted one line. Nothing fits right in the head. It is best, on the random days, to let pieces be pieces, at peace. ._.-. Torgi the cat is curled up next to me. Bedtime is his favorite time because he curls up in between us and purrs. Overcome with somnolent joy, his purrs pitch higher until he is trilling in his drowse. ._.-. Recipes recently attempted and succeeded, at least in the barest sense of the word: Southwestern frittata, steak with ginger-butter sauce, pork tacos with mango salsa, baked eggs in ham cups. Concepts tested and learned: broiling, sauteing,...

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Posted on 28 May 2009 | 3 comments

stories not to tell

The best stories in my life right now are the ones I cannot tell. Working at the library provides me with many things. A steady paycheck is one, and let’s hope I am not jinxing anything by stating that, as the city budget right now is highly contested territory. Another thing the library provides me with is a plethora of life lessons. Sometimes these life lessons are neatly packaged within a patron interaction or two, and sometimes they are spread out over a series of days, weeks, or months. I met someone last week who changed my life, and I can’t even tell you any of the specifics. To say I am frustrated by this boundary is an understatement, but I love my job more than I love writing here, so this is the decision I make. What I can tell you is that...

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Posted on 17 May 2009 | 1 comment

backpack

I went flying this morning, my first voyage in a long while. When I landed, I landed on forearms and knees, face nearly grazing the floor of the train. I saw things there I will spend some time trying to un-see. All apologies and crawling, I fumbled my way up and out. My eyes were full of tears, an autonomic response to the shock and sudden pain. When I blinked to clear my vision, my wet eyelashes streaked mascara over the lenses of my glasses. Limping, foggy-eyed, confused: what happened? I tripped. Backpack.  On the floor, in front of feet.  I saw it as I fell. I tripped? I must have. My daily tasks were shrouded in odd jolts of soreness. I told my coworker, who commiserated. When we reached the “it could have been worse” portion of the exchange,...

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Posted on 5 May 2009 | 1 comment

To live in this world

Years ago, during a period of grieving, I sent this excerpt from Mary Oliver’s poem “In Blackwater Woods” to my father: To live in this world you must be ableto do three things:to love what is mortal;to hold it against your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go. Another period of grieving is upon us. When I read Mary Oliver’s words, my heart is momentarily lighter.

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Posted on 3 May 2009 | Comments Off