Ladies and gentlemen, I have important news to announce: I am now *officially* a world traveller! I am sitting in front of a computer at the Thetford public library in England. Oh yes. Moira has gone global.
Yesterday, my travelling companion Mr. International and I spent the day wandering the streets of York: yes, that's right - the city that inspired that most marvelous place... New York. It was totally rad, I have to tell you and well worth the 6 quid we dropped on the tour bus that took us all over town.
Did you know that York has its own castle as well as a cathedral mentioned in the 13th century Doomsday book? (It was also sacked by William Wallace [braveheart] back in the day, my superfly Anti-Jean just whispered to me.)
Also, yesterday I learned that the origins of the word upper crust came from the servants burning the bread and scraping off the top bits for the rich folks.
And the word "bezerk" is an old roman word for someone who's gone loonytunes from an overdose of magic mushrooms.
See? The things you learn when you travel the world are phenomenol!!!
Tomorrow has Rick and I travelling my train into London where we will spent the day eating ham and mustard piccalilly sandwiches instead of blowing our loot on expensive London grub and we will, I'm sure, thoroughly enjoy our role as tourists on the London tourbuses. Heck yeah.
After two days in London, we plan on cruising down to Canterbury and Dover for a few hours, just to see 'em.
June 6th, next Monday, we will strap on a bright yellow helmet and be hurled screaming into the morning via catapult provided by Ryanair. Well. Let's hope now, shall we?
After a week sunning ourselves on the beach and complaining about our newly bright pink skin and, I dunno, jelly fish stings? I'm certain we will be quite ready for our week in Paris.
But for now, I leave your, dear people who aren't in England, for I have many exciting things to see and to do. And besides, I need to go home and get ready for some pagan-themed ghost hunting as well... you know, the usual British stuff. See ya lataaahhh!
Love,
Moira
international superstar. (or not.)
Sometimes the only cure for dealing with the madness swirling around inside your life is to take a step back from it. That is not easy to do. This weekend I am attempting to find a safe haven in the midst of a storm. (The countdown, in case you were wondering, is done to exactly one week. eek!)
Strangely, my safe haven exists in home where a three-year old toddler reigns supreme. Adult conversations come to a standstill, games of yahtzee are interrupted when the racuous youth insists that it is his turn to shake the cup o' dice again and again and again, adult movie night is postponed until the child sleepth, trips out of the family domain take double the usual time to accommodate, and even nightly sleep rations are subject to the whims of one tossle-haired redhead. Everything is chaotic, crazy, and unpredictable... and nowhere else do I feel more at peace.
Last night, as I chilled on the couch watching the final eight episodes of Sex and the City with my lady friends, listening to the occasional whines of the three dogs penned up in the kitchen, the soft panting of the one lying next to me on the couch, the occasional comments from the two amazing women on the other couch, and the frequent soft paddings of a toddler who can't sleep, I realized that love really is all around me.
This morning, I'm sitting in my pajamas, typing as quietly as possible so as to not wake the mother and child who are still, miraculously, sleeping upstairs, baking blueberry muffins as a wakeup suprise.
... And the silence was golden because the toddler speaketh, excited by the blueberry muffins (I made mommy muffins and baby muffins), and proclaiming his intense need to poo.
Ah yeah, this distraction from my current chaos
... the insanity of picking up and taking off to Europe on a budget at least $1,000 less than that recommended by even the most frugal guidebook with a guy, let's face it, that I hardly know
... the stress of leaving a job that didn't fulfill me but became a nice habit (coupled with a note from my boss telling me to have fun but remember that I had to come back to reality someday)
... the mixed up state of my (quote,unquote) love life
... the slow recovery of a cat from a surgery
... this chaos is a refreshing change. Off I go to a day of the unexpected...
Today is my last day of work. It's a weird feeling leaving a job, knowing that a phase of my life is officially over. I have had 24 jobs in my 26 years, a number that is whoa-crazy! who else do you know who has had 24 jobs? no one I bet! anyway, what's particularly odd about all my jobs is that this job is the first job that I am leaving on "officially" good terms, meaning that I turned in a notice, worked through the notice, and smiled (or will smile) on my way out the door.
For your amusement pleasure, I now offer a summary of the jobs I have worked:
My first job was as a babysitter du jour. I was fired when my charge learned some, um, inappropriate language. Next, I picked up a position as a kitchen helper at camp sonrise mountain. I worked one week and HATED it so intensely that I never went back to church camp afterwards.
From '95 - '01, I worked a variety of positions in popular family restaurant, starting as a cashier/hostess and moving my way up into management. I worked for 6 years, finally turned in a 3 week notice in 2001 right before I moved to Greensburg... went to work the next day and found out I was taken completely off the schedule... walked out in a fit of rage and ate breakfast at Eat 'n Puke as revenge.
My college years have provided much material on the job front: I was a copygrrl @ Pig Iron Press, definitely the CRAZIEST job I've had to date! I was also a gift shop cashier @ the Butler Institute of American Art, a telephone operator for a data entry company, a grill cook at seven different restaurants, a prep cook for a popular Italian joint, and a waitress for a Mexican restaurant.
I've branched out into non-food related pursuits such as running a sewing machine at a local silkscreening company and working as a data entry clerk for the U.S. Postal Service (that job suu-uuucked!). I've been a paid website representative, a grocery store cashier, a student services clerk at the local community college, a SHU writing consultant, and a seller of fruit.
I've even had a few businesses over the years: I've sold bath salts on ebay, later expanding into scented oils, lotions, and soaps and spent a year making and selling hemp creations.
What was the craziest way that I quit a job?
I was a grill person @ (dare I admit it?) McDonalds - I worked about 2 months before I called up one night and said (and I quote), "Hi, um, this is Moira? Um, I'm not coming to work tomorrow. Or ever again."
What was the grossest job I've had?
I was a grill cook @ Bob Evans - ok, seriously? this restaurant was the dirtiest gross-ass restaurant in which I have ever set foot. the food is excellent just try to never think about the filth behind the scenes, okay? *shudders*
The best job?
That's a toss up between being a seller of fruit for two summers in a row and working at Pig Iron Press. One had the perks of deeply discounted fruits / vegetables; the other offered such strange bonuses as girls on rollerskates, purring cats, and reading manuscripts. My current (for 15 more minutes) position of sitting in front of a computer screen with fast internet access ain't so bad either.
Speaking of...
the countdown to Europe is on:
12 days 'til blastoff!
I haven't been sleeping well for the last week. I always seem to find that in times of stress the first thing that goes is my ability to get a good night's rest... followed closely by my ability to formulate a coherent sentence. Add the stress of finals week, toss in a dose of faith questioning, a pinch of romance gone astray (or are we just confused?), and a big steamin' lump of excitement/terror about my upcoming 9 week tour de Europe... and this girl is lying in bed at night, mind churning.
And when I do fall asleep? My mind is poppin' out those crazy dreams that stir me back to wakefulness. Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you are living in a dream? Today is that day.
Luckily, I have only had two important tasks to accomplish this morning: One was to call my mom and wish her a happy m-day / anniversary. check. The other was to walk my best friend's dognap-ees.
This is a long story. See, A is a bit of an animal-lover... oh, who am I kidding? A likes most animals better than humans, and I can't say I blame her. She lives on the top floor. Her degenerate recently-evicted neighbors live on the ground floor. The other day upon arriving home, A found the basement apartment abandoned and two dogs running around in her yard. When she went to return the dogs home, she found an empty and demolished apartment (we're talking NASTY!) complete with piles of dog poo and garbage and dirty diapers littering the floor. Yuck.
Later that day, I get a tearful message confessing A's sins of dognapping and a request to walk the dogs this weekend while she goes off doing whatever it is that ladies do when they take off for the weekend. How could I say no?
Now, I'm not much of a "dog person". I think of dogs in much the same way that I think of boyfriends and children - cool to be around and cuddle with... but I don't wanna clean up after 'em. Nice in theory but...
Sometimes I get caught up in the notion that maybe a dog would be a wonderful addition to my apartment but after this morning's experiences, well, let's just say I've had my fill of puppies.
First, I go up into the attic where the dogs are living until better arrangements can be made to find mounds of dog poo and two very enthusiastic puppies who practically knock me over in their joy.
Next, I wrangle a makeshift leash for one and use the actual leash from A's dog on the other. Then I open the door and brace myself as the two dogs run out the apartment and down the stairs. As we walk down the sidewalk, I lose one end of the robe tie I had been using as a lease and the smaller dog breaks free.
I try to sneak up on her and get the lease back around her but the other dog chases her with glee and she gets excited and takes off. Next thing I know, I am running down the street with one puppy, trying to catch the other puppy, hoping like hell it has the good sense not to run out into the street and wondering how the heck one goes about catching a runaway puppy anyway.
As I run, I realize that the brown puppy is enjoying the game and the black puppy is enjoying the game... and that this is a lose/lose situation for me.
Finally, I tie the black puppy to a pole off the road, and gently lure the other puppy back to me and the black one barks playfully as I chase the brown one around the yard it has, thankfully, decided to enjoy.
When I have both puppies under control, we continue on our walk, me twirling periodically to untangle myself from the dogs and hoping neither one poops cuz I don't wanna scoop it. Everywhere that the brown dog pees, the black dog follows suit and the two dogs are constantly sniffing and bumping into each other. At one point, the boy puppy raises his leg on a telephone poll just as the other one goes in for a sniff which equals, grossly, one brown puppy with pee on its head. yuck.
at that point I decide that perhaps I will cut our walk short and make a mental note not to touch the brown puppy ever again. When we get back to the apartment, I realize A has no cream for the coffee so I think that I will just dart across the street, leaving the puppies unpenned up because how much trouble can two puppies get into in five minutes?
Hahaha.
I come back to a tipped over garbage can, with garbage strewn through the apartment, a puddle of dog urine on a garbage bag and a steamin' hunk of dog doo in the dining room, where I had the strictest instructions to not let the dogs. All in the space of 5 minutes... Oops. At that point, I decide to go back to my nice dog-free apartment, taking the coffee pot with me, leaving my dreams of having a puppy far, far behind me.
I couldn't help but to see the similiarities between Vivian in Margaret Edson's play "Wit" and Mrs. Wilson in Thom Jones' short story "I want to live!" Both women are diagnosed with cancer - Vivian has "advanced metastatic ovarian cancer" and Mrs. Wilson has breast and uterus cancer - in other words, both women have cancers in traditionally feminine regions.
Interestingly, neither character is particularly feminine in her portrayal: Vivian is a rather cold and clinical professor of literature whose attitude more closely mirrors that of her distant physicians than the warm and caring nurse Susie. Mrs. Wilson is a mother, yes, but one who is unable to speak the words "I love you" to her only daughter, even as she is dying.
Both have already lost loved ones to the battle with cancer (Vivian's mother and Mrs. Wilson's husband has previously succumb) so both know ahead of time that the battle will be tough and long and ultimately fruitless.
I think the primary difference between the two is that Edson's play offers a more positive ending, one that suggests the potential of salvation, while Jones' work ends with the passage:
"She... nodded in and out. Back and forth. In and out. She went back and forth. In and out. Back and forth... in and out. There wasn't any tunnel or white light or any of that. She just... died."
What is it about white light that suggests hope and life after death? Is the primary difference between the two endings that one has white light and the other does not? Does the white light represent simply heaven or is there more to it that that. I think this would make an interesting paper topic... I, however, am already finished with my literature papers this semester (whew!).
Ah, yet another semester is drawing to a close... as much as I relish the chance to actual stop and RELAX, I am by no means hurrying the experience because the sooner I am done with classes, the sooner I have to stress out about packing and the possibility of running out of money somewhere in the middle of Germany... Iiieeee! (Don't get me wrong - I'm excited as hell!)
I met a lot of literary characters this semester! From Blanche DuBois (who left me with unanswered questions!):
"She must have been fond of you. Sick people have such deep, sincere attachments."
to that zany Zoe Hendericks which made me think of the disconnection that is rampant in our daily lives and sparked a comparison with that most idealistic Lucy O'Rourke. (I did my presentation on the story "The Best Girlfriend You Never Had" as well as wrote my final paper about these two characters.) I enjoyed comparing the image of relationships in these two stories with Dorothy Parker's "Here We are."
A previous discussion in another class clued me in to the ending of O'Connor's "Greenleaf." I surely wasn't suprised by the ending!
I was, however, surprised by the ending of Proulx's "The Half-Skinned Steer" even if my exercise in dream interpretation should have clued me in.
Toomer's "Blood Burning Moon" reminded me of the crazy people I used to encounter on my midnight waitressing shift back in the day.
McBride's Miracle At St. Anna suprised me -- I was guilty of judging a book by its cover, I'm afraid.
While reading Bishop's "The Farmer's Children", I was struck by the significance of the children's names.
The Secret Life of Bees
My reading of this novel had real life implications! Neat!
Finally, I enjoyed comparing a play read in another literature class, Margaret Edson's "Wit" with Thom Jones' short story "I want to live!" :
Interestingly, neither character is particularly feminine in her portrayal: Vivian is a rather cold and clinical professor of literature whose attitude more closely mirrors that of her distant physicians than the warm and caring nurse Susie. Mrs. Wilson is a mother, yes, but one who is unable to speak the words "I love you" to her only daughter, even as she is dying.
The best part of the class was, of course, the conversations with other classmates! I have to admit, however, that despite my reservations, the poetry slam turned out to be my favorite class!
So does anybody know anything else about the Black Madonnas mentioned in The Secret Life of Bees?
It was really interesting... as I was reading this novel, I was also doing research for my upcoming trip to Europe. As I was reading about Spain, I came across the Montserrat monastery near Barcelona, which is, strangely enough, home to one of the more famous Black Madonnas in the world. How wild is that? I will, of course, be scheduling a visit!
What I found particularly interesting about Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees is the way that Kidd weaved her factual knowledge about bees into the storyline. Each chapter starts with a quote from a biological book about Bees (one with the GREAT title: The Queen Must Die: And Other Affairs of Bees and Men!). In the back of the novel, Kidd discusses how she knew next to nothing about bees at the start of the novel. She discusses the research she put into the novel:
"Books couldn't tell me everything I needed to know, so I visited an apiary in South Carolina. Inside the honey house, I sketched all the honey-making equipment, trying to get a handle on how they worked. There seemed to be a thin veneer of honey everywhere, and my shoes stuck slightly to the floor when I walked, something I could never have learned from a book."
I loved that! It just goes to show that a writer can't really write about something with emotional impact unless she has actually lived and experienced that emotion. You can't write about death effectively unless death has come a'knockin' on your front door, etc. I think that's the cool thing about writing: You have to get out there an live your life... but then you need to come home and retreat into yourself in order to write about it. Neat.
As the voices of 5(?) people reading aloud term papers to a partner filled the air, I realized that I couldn't hear anything other than the buzz of voices...
I have to say, though, that I think any writer should get in the habit of reading her work out loud - whether it be to a friend, uninterested co-worker, random stranger, or even a pet. I don't think that you can really get a feel for the rhythm of language until you practice reading it out loud.
As any of my friends know, a visit to my house is frequently an invitation to an open-reading of whatever the heck I happen to be working on that week. This past weekend the reader was multicultural - leya en espanol, por favor! Usually, however, the reading is in English - sometimes it's a story, a poem, or a particularly clever blog entry that I wanted to share with my "real-life" friends.
I love reading out loud to people - instead of me sitting anxiously waiting for my friend to finish reading my story du jour, I get to actively participate, viewing their facial expressions and reactions, and I can stop and say "are you bored? do you want me to keep reading?" at any time. Nice.
This semester I learned that:
+++ Famous people get all the breaks ... especially when it comes to punctuation.
+++ Protestors should have properly punctuated signs.
+++ Connections are what it's all about.
+++ Your musings on racism can be misinterpreted, if you aren't careful.
+++ Men face just as many stereotypes as women.
+++ Today's consumer society has a definitive and identifiable beginning point.
+++ Nothing is ever free.
+++ Potheads are people, too.
+++ The Victorians ruined sex! Kinda...
+++ Everything is a symbol.
+++ Diamonds are not always a girl's best friend.
+++ Knowledge is only knowledge if it has real world applications.
+++ People will think I'm a dork if I am proud of my blogginess!
... erm, I'm sure I learned a lot more but my head is spinning today...
Margaret Edson's Wit was a pretty unique play - it touches on the issues of cancer and chemotherapy - something that if it doesn't strike close to home now, oh it will, my friend, it will.
Excuse my pessimism (and inability to spell) this morning -- but cancer is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. It seems to me that either cancer is on the rise in the general population, or I've just been noticing it more.
It's been on my mind because my co-worker was just diagnosed with a tumor behind her eye and put on chemotherapy. The doctors don't know if it's cancerous or not since a biopsy is pretty much out of the question at this point. She's been on the chemo for two or three weeks now and won't see the doctor again until I'm already out of the country. So I've been thinking about it...
Anyway, one of the things I liked about this play is the way that the reader is directly inside Vivian's head, even when a conversation is taking place with the doctor, the text is divided into two columns providing a vivid and active mental conversation. Also, I like the circularity of the play in that Vivian's doctor's intern is a former student - life goes around, eh?
Man it feels good to get shit done! Two papers out of the way in one fell swoop.. and it's only 3 p.m. on Sunday! It's a beautiful day! (Es una dia bonita!) I am about to step outside the box, if you will, and out into the sunshine... Sweet!
(I just used, what, a million exclamation points (!!!!!) in one paragraph? How lame is that?!? Hah!)
The countdown to Europe is on - 23 days and countin' hard. 8 more classes, 10 more days of work, 2 finals, and sunny Spanish beaches here I come!
The summer itinerary is as follows:
May 23 - June 6th - Cambridge, U.K.
June 6 - June 14 - Girona, Spain (in a campsite less than a mile from the Mediterranean... sweet joy!)
June 14 - June 21 - Paris, France
June 21 - Frankfort & Berlin, Germany
June 22 - June 25 - Munich, Germany
June 26 - June 28 - Freidburg, Germany (in the heart of the Black Forest)
June 29 - July 7 - Amsterdam, Netherlands
July 7 - August 3 - Birmingham, U.K.
Don't be jealous... ;c)
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |||
| 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
| 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
| 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
moon phases |
