twenty-eight
1 day ago
Monday, September 21, 2009
Shameless plug for blog #2
I've made good on my promise to start a writing blog! A Wren Then will continue to exist as a place for my random musings that all of you wonderful people are sweet enough to read. Please come with me here too: Promise to Write!
Friday, September 4, 2009
A candle in the darkness
Happy Friday and long Labor Day weekend to all! I happen to know that many of my readers have fun things planned for this goodbye-to-summer weekend and I wish you all a wonderful time with friends and family if that's what you're up to. Corey and I will be spending the weekend at home with good friends.
I wanted to leave you with an article that I hope you will sit down and read this weekend or maybe after the weekend's festivities. It's not going to make you feel great--it's a sad story, about a man wrongly executed in Texas. I read it earlier this week and it rocked my world and I've been trying to share it with as many people as I can. Stories are our way of saying what must be said, whether to prevent tragedy in the future, or to simply reveal a lost truth, thereby lighting a candle in the darkness.
-The original story from The New Yorker
-The prosecutor's (now a judge) rebuttal in an Op-Ed
-The New Yorker author's response to the judge's Op-Ed
I wanted to leave you with an article that I hope you will sit down and read this weekend or maybe after the weekend's festivities. It's not going to make you feel great--it's a sad story, about a man wrongly executed in Texas. I read it earlier this week and it rocked my world and I've been trying to share it with as many people as I can. Stories are our way of saying what must be said, whether to prevent tragedy in the future, or to simply reveal a lost truth, thereby lighting a candle in the darkness.
-The original story from The New Yorker
-The prosecutor's (now a judge) rebuttal in an Op-Ed
-The New Yorker author's response to the judge's Op-Ed
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Travelling on
Well, as most of my small circle of readers probably already knows, I have, er, a bit of news. Remember the long and confident post about how I would be starting a public policy program this fall and be damned all that math and economics? Well, the math and economics kind of damned me back. Yes friends, the public policy program is no more. After a week of orientation spent mostly lost and confused and seriously doubting first my math skills, and later in the week my overall worth as a human being, resulting in 2-3 hour crying bouts each afternoon wherein cute husband was alternately hugging me, pacing across the living room, and running his hand obsessively through his hair (it's his main stress action) while trying to make me feel better (thank you Corey for last week's heroics), I decided to leave the program. So if I had to explain this decision to you in a nutshell it would be this: It just didn't feel right. I feel like I'm at a point in my life where I need to be doing the things I'm good at, instead of the things I'm downright bad at (see math, pages 1-64,000).
So that leaves me here. A girl with a writing degree and a blog. These are my plans: I'm going to attempt to transition into, well, a writer. As in, that will become my job. I must write for a certain amount of hours per day (I'm thinking 4 to 5), and I must maintain this blog more seriously and will probably start another one that I must also maintain seriously. I figure that all this writing will have to produce quite a lot of material, and with a lot of material, maybe 10 pages of that will be good, and, well, that's a short story folks, and maybe, just maybe it could be published. It all sounds very logical when I write it down like this, but I know it will much easier said than done. One of the toughest parts about writing is the voices you hear in your head while you're doing it: you hear the people that have told you you're great, and they serve to basically just inflate your ego and make you think you're much better than you actually are, thus rendering you lazy as you think, you know what, I don't really need to sit here and crank this out, I'm a great writer! I can do this later! And then of course there are the voices of those who wrote your rejection letters. They usually speak very quietly, but with great venom. They basically say, in one form or another, "you stink, you wannabe." But perhaps the great writers are simply able to keep writing over all of the noise, just like a great quarterback makes the big throw as the crowd roars with equal parts cheers and boos.
So while I'm definitely living in fear that my readership might think less of me due to this historic back out, I've done what I have to do, and I'm working on feeling good about it. The breadcrumbs leading to wherever I was going have been temporarily lost under the snow, but I'm currently in the process of digging beneath the snow, making calls (reception is fuzzy out here) to track down a dog to do some scent work for me, and soon I'll be back on the right path.
So that leaves me here. A girl with a writing degree and a blog. These are my plans: I'm going to attempt to transition into, well, a writer. As in, that will become my job. I must write for a certain amount of hours per day (I'm thinking 4 to 5), and I must maintain this blog more seriously and will probably start another one that I must also maintain seriously. I figure that all this writing will have to produce quite a lot of material, and with a lot of material, maybe 10 pages of that will be good, and, well, that's a short story folks, and maybe, just maybe it could be published. It all sounds very logical when I write it down like this, but I know it will much easier said than done. One of the toughest parts about writing is the voices you hear in your head while you're doing it: you hear the people that have told you you're great, and they serve to basically just inflate your ego and make you think you're much better than you actually are, thus rendering you lazy as you think, you know what, I don't really need to sit here and crank this out, I'm a great writer! I can do this later! And then of course there are the voices of those who wrote your rejection letters. They usually speak very quietly, but with great venom. They basically say, in one form or another, "you stink, you wannabe." But perhaps the great writers are simply able to keep writing over all of the noise, just like a great quarterback makes the big throw as the crowd roars with equal parts cheers and boos.
So while I'm definitely living in fear that my readership might think less of me due to this historic back out, I've done what I have to do, and I'm working on feeling good about it. The breadcrumbs leading to wherever I was going have been temporarily lost under the snow, but I'm currently in the process of digging beneath the snow, making calls (reception is fuzzy out here) to track down a dog to do some scent work for me, and soon I'll be back on the right path.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The last lazy Saturday...
It's getting closer and closer to the beginning of my public policy program--orientation begins on Monday--and I'm thinking of today as my last do-nothing Saturday, when I have plenty of time to do laundry, read between loads, burn some candles, and have favorite tunes playing in the background. As you might have guessed, I'm a bundle of nerves (Corey's expression, and I think it's perfectly apt). I have no idea what to expect and I have the sneaking suspicion that this is going to be the biggest academic challenge of my life, since I'll be taking courses based on subjects I've never even thought about studying before. But then again this is also the first time, at least academically speaking, where I've been more focused on the big picture rather than the minutiae of everyday classes and assignments. That is to say, at the end of two years, if I play my cards right, I'll be able to do all sorts of cool things that could help make the world a better place, which is all I ever really wanted to do in the first place. So if I have to get there in a way that's different than I originally imagined, I'm okay with that.
But as I move into the future, I'm thinking very much of the past.
Last week, we spent a few days in the town where I grew up and for whatever reason we ended up visiting a lot of places central to my childhood. The neighborhood pool. The high rise apartment building that was one of my first homes. And everything had changed. Shocker I know--things change, Alison! But the structural alterations--the new locker room at the pool, the new shops near the high rise--represented a long but sudden passage of time for me. Twenty years have gone by since I was a six-year old at that pool, the diving board my biggest fear, my little brother the only person I needed to protect, that now-changed locker room the best place I could think of to laugh with my friends. And it's not so much that I have to leave all this in the past--I suspect the memory is often better than the experience itself--it's the idea that the cycle continues, but with the players so often oblivious to what's come before. The children in the strange new locker room of today will never think of us as they're doing all the same things we did. The thirty-something frazzled woman in the elevator at the high rise with a baby in her arms will never think of my mom, twenty-some years ago, equally frazzled.
The cycle continues without us, and it makes me feel wistful and sad for the times that can never be relived, but I think it must also be a good thing. That the joy and the pain continues, the seasons change and something important is lost or gained--a million leaves blowing in the wind and all on their way to their perfect place, no matter where it is, and the journey there is more of a home than the final destination.
But as I move into the future, I'm thinking very much of the past.
Last week, we spent a few days in the town where I grew up and for whatever reason we ended up visiting a lot of places central to my childhood. The neighborhood pool. The high rise apartment building that was one of my first homes. And everything had changed. Shocker I know--things change, Alison! But the structural alterations--the new locker room at the pool, the new shops near the high rise--represented a long but sudden passage of time for me. Twenty years have gone by since I was a six-year old at that pool, the diving board my biggest fear, my little brother the only person I needed to protect, that now-changed locker room the best place I could think of to laugh with my friends. And it's not so much that I have to leave all this in the past--I suspect the memory is often better than the experience itself--it's the idea that the cycle continues, but with the players so often oblivious to what's come before. The children in the strange new locker room of today will never think of us as they're doing all the same things we did. The thirty-something frazzled woman in the elevator at the high rise with a baby in her arms will never think of my mom, twenty-some years ago, equally frazzled.
The cycle continues without us, and it makes me feel wistful and sad for the times that can never be relived, but I think it must also be a good thing. That the joy and the pain continues, the seasons change and something important is lost or gained--a million leaves blowing in the wind and all on their way to their perfect place, no matter where it is, and the journey there is more of a home than the final destination.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
A short story, a candle, some rice...profound symbolic representations of...well, nothing
Good morning, friends (and family, but I'm old enough now that I consider my family my friends as well). A short post this morning as I'm off to get some paperwork in order for school-related stuff. There's nothing like going back to school to make you appreciate the horror-story-slash-freak-show that is American bureaucracy. I'm always shocked at the amount of paperwork needed to simply prove that you are who you say you are--this morning I'll be armed with my birth certificate, my marriage certificate, my proof of name change, and a utility bill. Why don't I just give a blood sample too, and maybe a facial scan so they don't worry that I'm like one of those people in Mission: Impossible who can pull off my face to reveal a whole other person.
Anyway, just wanted to share a couple of things with you this morning. After some searching, I found one of my favorite short stories ever online and wanted to share it with some of you avid readers out there. The disclaimer is that it's by one of my college professors, so I guess if you were a politician you'd argue I'm biased, but I promise it's wonderful and might be a fun way to spend a few minutes this afternoon as you try to tune out the heat. (Sorry if this doesn't apply to you, since I'm in Virginia all I really think about is ways to tune out the heat.) Anyway, read it here if you have some time, and let me know what you think.
Also, I'll just say it loud and say it proud here, I'm a scented candle fanatic and here's my new favorite (male readers just skip to the next part of this post). Order one (in any of the four scents), you won't be disappointed! Ladies, is it me or do scented candles make everything better? Yes, I think so.
And, finally (male readers, now that I think about it, this part may not interest you either, but that may be sexist--I would promise a future post of football musings, but I really don't think that would be pretty), try this recipe. For a short time when I was little my family lived in Denver, Colorado and while there my mom worked on this cookbook. If you ever buy it, her name's listed in the back! It's become something of a family treasure, as after at least 20 years of use, we have yet to find a recipe we don't like. One of my absolute favorite recipes from the book, and of all time, is the Nutty Wild Rice Salad. Thanks to the wonders of the internet I actually found the recipe online at a recipe aggregate site! Two tips from mom: (1) You can substitute a good beef broth for the beef bouillon because beef bouillon is sometimes hard to find, (2) if you double it, you've got to do it in completely separate batches before combining, but DON'T double the dressing. It's the perfect summer salad--healthy and delicious.
As you can see, no deep thoughts for today, just a little bit of fun. A happy day to all.
Anyway, just wanted to share a couple of things with you this morning. After some searching, I found one of my favorite short stories ever online and wanted to share it with some of you avid readers out there. The disclaimer is that it's by one of my college professors, so I guess if you were a politician you'd argue I'm biased, but I promise it's wonderful and might be a fun way to spend a few minutes this afternoon as you try to tune out the heat. (Sorry if this doesn't apply to you, since I'm in Virginia all I really think about is ways to tune out the heat.) Anyway, read it here if you have some time, and let me know what you think.
Also, I'll just say it loud and say it proud here, I'm a scented candle fanatic and here's my new favorite (male readers just skip to the next part of this post). Order one (in any of the four scents), you won't be disappointed! Ladies, is it me or do scented candles make everything better? Yes, I think so.
And, finally (male readers, now that I think about it, this part may not interest you either, but that may be sexist--I would promise a future post of football musings, but I really don't think that would be pretty), try this recipe. For a short time when I was little my family lived in Denver, Colorado and while there my mom worked on this cookbook. If you ever buy it, her name's listed in the back! It's become something of a family treasure, as after at least 20 years of use, we have yet to find a recipe we don't like. One of my absolute favorite recipes from the book, and of all time, is the Nutty Wild Rice Salad. Thanks to the wonders of the internet I actually found the recipe online at a recipe aggregate site! Two tips from mom: (1) You can substitute a good beef broth for the beef bouillon because beef bouillon is sometimes hard to find, (2) if you double it, you've got to do it in completely separate batches before combining, but DON'T double the dressing. It's the perfect summer salad--healthy and delicious.
As you can see, no deep thoughts for today, just a little bit of fun. A happy day to all.
Friday, July 10, 2009
If music be the food of love, play on
Since July is slowly getting hotter and hotter, and the pool, while really fun for the last couple of weeks, is starting to annoy you due to shrieking children and too tan skinny people, I thought I might post about some music that's been getting me through my midsummer stress (see my last post for laborious rehash of my midsummer stress).
1. Paul's Grandfather, No Home. Their sound reminds of a time long ago, but their lyrics remind me of my life...in the present time. Buy their cd here, and read some very cool press here.
2. Sara Watkins (of Nickel Creek) has done her first solo album (self-titled) and it's a beauty--manages to be soothing and powerful at the same time. Buy it here.
I feel a little dorky making music recommendations, because this isn't exactly my field of expertise, but I'm convinced that these two will soothe your summer soul.
1. Paul's Grandfather, No Home. Their sound reminds of a time long ago, but their lyrics remind me of my life...in the present time. Buy their cd here, and read some very cool press here.
2. Sara Watkins (of Nickel Creek) has done her first solo album (self-titled) and it's a beauty--manages to be soothing and powerful at the same time. Buy it here.
I feel a little dorky making music recommendations, because this isn't exactly my field of expertise, but I'm convinced that these two will soothe your summer soul.
I get by with a little help from...
My mind is racing this morning after making a big decision last night. I've been offered the chance to get a masters degree in public policy at William & Mary. It all happened very last minute, as my application had been sitting in admissions office limbo unbeknownst to me until about a month ago. By the time I got the missing pieces in, we were already into late June. This Tuesday I got an email from the admissions director offering me a position, but requiring a decision by Friday at 5pm. In a word: Aaaargh!
It's been a very stressful week of doubting myself, believing in myself, doubting myself, believing in myself... I decided to make my choice during a bout of believing in myself--I said yes!--but now that the decision has been made, I've slid back into a doubt bout. That said, I'm going to stick to my guns because I think this is an opportunity that I'll probably never see again, and it will enable me to do some things that I've been dreaming about over the past couple of years of my life--e.g. perhaps go into politics, work on writing better education policy, single-handedly overturn No Child Left Behind, et cetera, et cetera. My biggest concern about the program has been about the amount of math I'll be taking--for those of you who know me, you know that math is my worst enemy. We hate each other. We tend to stay up all night fighting and let me tell you there's no apologies and kisses come daybreak. It's war. But, I've decided to try and mend this relationship. In short, this is going to be a very big, scary step for me and I find myself perfectly balanced between fear and excitement so that I really can't feel either one because at this point they are canceling each other out (hey, doesn't that happen in math?).
Anyway, I just wanted to share this news with my few loyal readers, because many of you talked to me for hours on the phone, wrote me sweet emails of encouragement, and in Corey's case just went back and forth with me uninterrupted for three evenings in a row, trying to probe the inner workings of my heart, mind, and soul. I couldn't have taken this leap without my little peanut gallery/cheering squad that is all of you, so I just wanted to say a giant thank you to you perfect and wonderful people that I love.
My mother- and father-in-law, Debbie and Dave, always call their kids and their kids' human accoutrements "loved ones." Whenever Corey and I walk in the door after a long drive up to see them, Debbie will say, "Hi loved ones!" And then she'll offer us some great beer and ask us out onto the back porch for conversation and laughs about just about anything you can imagine. For the ten hours it takes us to get from Virginia to their house, I dream of this warm welcome, and we always, always get it. (If it's Thanksgiving or Christmas we sit by the Christmas tree, as the porch is covered in snow.)
The point is, our little inside-joke phrase--loved ones--says it all for me, about everyone I'm thinking of tonight as I write this post. My mom spent her afternoon today talking on the phone with me, and was sending me "You can do it!" emails each night before she went to bed, and Debbie sent me a "You can do it!" email today right in the midst of my lowest point of self-doubt, and Corey was just Corey, always ready to talk, and always concerned about my happiness. And my dad called Corey at work to tell him to tell me he supported my decision either way. And Dave's facebook postings kept me laughing when I was fighting off tears. And my little brother Alex got on his cell phone in the middle of his summer landscaping project and simply said, "I know you! You can do microeconomics!" (I think I'm going to have to put that on paper and post it above my desk as my mantra as I go through this program...) And I know this sounds like an Academy Awards acceptance speech, but I love you all, loved ones, and I just had to tell you...
I know this was a corny post, so I'll leave you with this:
One Valentine's day Corey gave me a very dorky lovey-dovey card and inside he wrote: "This card is kind of like Regis Philbin: Corny, but makes a lot of sense."
Corny is cool, people.
It's been a very stressful week of doubting myself, believing in myself, doubting myself, believing in myself... I decided to make my choice during a bout of believing in myself--I said yes!--but now that the decision has been made, I've slid back into a doubt bout. That said, I'm going to stick to my guns because I think this is an opportunity that I'll probably never see again, and it will enable me to do some things that I've been dreaming about over the past couple of years of my life--e.g. perhaps go into politics, work on writing better education policy, single-handedly overturn No Child Left Behind, et cetera, et cetera. My biggest concern about the program has been about the amount of math I'll be taking--for those of you who know me, you know that math is my worst enemy. We hate each other. We tend to stay up all night fighting and let me tell you there's no apologies and kisses come daybreak. It's war. But, I've decided to try and mend this relationship. In short, this is going to be a very big, scary step for me and I find myself perfectly balanced between fear and excitement so that I really can't feel either one because at this point they are canceling each other out (hey, doesn't that happen in math?).
Anyway, I just wanted to share this news with my few loyal readers, because many of you talked to me for hours on the phone, wrote me sweet emails of encouragement, and in Corey's case just went back and forth with me uninterrupted for three evenings in a row, trying to probe the inner workings of my heart, mind, and soul. I couldn't have taken this leap without my little peanut gallery/cheering squad that is all of you, so I just wanted to say a giant thank you to you perfect and wonderful people that I love.
My mother- and father-in-law, Debbie and Dave, always call their kids and their kids' human accoutrements "loved ones." Whenever Corey and I walk in the door after a long drive up to see them, Debbie will say, "Hi loved ones!" And then she'll offer us some great beer and ask us out onto the back porch for conversation and laughs about just about anything you can imagine. For the ten hours it takes us to get from Virginia to their house, I dream of this warm welcome, and we always, always get it. (If it's Thanksgiving or Christmas we sit by the Christmas tree, as the porch is covered in snow.)
The point is, our little inside-joke phrase--loved ones--says it all for me, about everyone I'm thinking of tonight as I write this post. My mom spent her afternoon today talking on the phone with me, and was sending me "You can do it!" emails each night before she went to bed, and Debbie sent me a "You can do it!" email today right in the midst of my lowest point of self-doubt, and Corey was just Corey, always ready to talk, and always concerned about my happiness. And my dad called Corey at work to tell him to tell me he supported my decision either way. And Dave's facebook postings kept me laughing when I was fighting off tears. And my little brother Alex got on his cell phone in the middle of his summer landscaping project and simply said, "I know you! You can do microeconomics!" (I think I'm going to have to put that on paper and post it above my desk as my mantra as I go through this program...) And I know this sounds like an Academy Awards acceptance speech, but I love you all, loved ones, and I just had to tell you...
I know this was a corny post, so I'll leave you with this:
One Valentine's day Corey gave me a very dorky lovey-dovey card and inside he wrote: "This card is kind of like Regis Philbin: Corny, but makes a lot of sense."
Corny is cool, people.
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