Making a difference. Being a goofy goose...

I continue rambling on and on about me and my life, leaving out vital information about a large part of my life. This is Dakota. She is a Miniature Schnauzer. She likes to eat beetles and carpet. She also enjoys Milkbones. She often wears Mr. Potato Head's glasses because she thinks they make her look studious. She likes it when I read poetry to her late at night. She prefers Emily Dickinson. She is bored with T.S. Eliot. She loathes baths because she is self-conscious about looking like a wet rat. She likes to jump in puddles, which is ironic because of her hatred of baths. She often digs in her water bowl for no reason; my roommates and I think there is some sort of mirage she is trying to get to. She is the most lovable when she is sleepy. She has a lot of fur and almost no tail. She tries to eat my friends' hair. She has quite a bit of attitude. I think it's her combination of sass, charm, and strikingly good looks that win people over.

Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups made by some giant scissors...

"The Poet Of Ignorance" by Anne Sexton

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutching fast to my heart,
a huge crab.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses and the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?

I'm gonna drink good wine in vineyards and get asked to dance...

I am sitting here at work, completely soaked, and it's freezing cold in here. I am so thankful for my friend Rachel who drove me out to my car because I would have had to walk half a mile barefoot with my pants rolled up in the pouring rain. I am sure that would have been a sight. I wish that I wasn't at work right now and that I had worn something different, because, as I am watching the dark clouds roll by through the window outside the computer lab door, I really want to go out walking in the rain. I may do that after work. Just roll up my pants, shove my shoes in my back pack and go. I may also catch pneumonia. Maybe I should weigh the options.

Speaking of getting up and going, that's exactly what I want to do. I have the deepest desire to get up early one morning, fill up my car with gas, grab some good music, an overnight bag, my journal, my camera, my cell phone and just-- go. I have nowhere specific in mind. I have no real plan. I don't really care about missing work or school. I just want to get behind the wheel and drive until I get tired of driving, until I run out of thoughts (or gas), until I feel like I have ended up in the right place. Wherever I end up, I will spend the night and the next full day or two or three and then drive back. I want to just go and be and though I think I would want to be alone, it might be nice to have someone I care about there with me, to build memories of the time when we let go of all inhibitions and responsibilities and just went. I am sure I will set out alone on one of the nights where insomnia gets the best of me. I will drive; I will pull over and take photographs; I will sit and write in some small cafe with horrible coffee but a quaint, down home ambiance; I will try new things and meet new people; it will be great! If ever I go missing, know that I am out driving...somewhere. I am thinking of heading north. I am sure I will be back in a few days.

This desire reminds me of a song by Rosie Thomas called "Wedding Day":

So much for love, I guess I've been wrong
but it's all right, 'cause I'm moving on.
I've got my car all packed with cassette tapes
and sweaters and loose change and cheap cigarettes.
I'm gonna drive thru the hills with my hand out
the window and sing till I run out of words.
I'm gonna stop at every truck stop, make small talk with waiters
and truck driving men.
I'm gonna fall asleep in the back seat with no one around but me and my friends.
It's gonna be so grand
It's gonna be just like my wedding day.

Yeah, I've had enough of love, it feels good to give up
some good to be good to myself.
I'm gonna get on the highway with no destination
and plenty of visions in mind.
I'm gonna drive to the ocean, go skinny dipping,
blow kisses to Venus and Mars.
I'm gonna stop at every bar and flirt the cowboys in front their girlfriends.
It's gonna be so grand
It's gonna be just like my wedding day.

So much for love, I guess I've been wrong
but it's all right 'cause I'm moving on.
I'm gonna drive over hills, over mountains, and canyons,
and boys that keep bringing' me down.
I'm gonna drive under skyline and sunshine, drink good wine in vineyards
and get asked to dance.
I'm gonna be carefree and let nothing pass me by, never ever again.
It's gonna be so grand
It's gonna be so grand
It's gonna be just like my wedding day.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end...

It's 4:30pm on a Sunday and where am I? Sitting in the library, of course. I have given up for the day on having any original thoughts to add to my autobiography project, so I thought I might at well write something.

I woke up this morning with one thought lodged in my mind. Kind of an obscure idea, but for some reason, I thought I would share. Did you know that even if you have bad vision, when you go scuba diving the instructors will tell you not to bother with prescription goggles or contacts. Interesting, isn' it? I have been told that even if you can't make it around the house without putting your contacts in or your glasses on, there is no need for them while diving. When you are underwater everything is clear. The water is not murky. The fish are not blurry. You can make out the ridges of the coral without corrective lenses. At four o'clock this morning, I sat up in bed and had this completely strange and nonsensical idea: Maybe if I went scuba diving into the deepest depths of the ocean, things would become so clear that, like when looking through goggles with the worst vision and things stand out perfectly, I could look into a mirror at myself, full of confusion, and I would suddenly make sense. All of my thoughts, though murky, would become clear. Nothing would be blurry. Everything would be black and white, not gray. Hmm...no one will probably understand what I am trying to convey. I have done a poor job of getting this idea across. I am just intrigued by the idea that when under water, we are no longer constrained by the physical disability of poor sight, and we can actually see things for what they really are. Maybe we should build a 200 foot concrete wall around the United States, fill the whole thing with water, give everyone scuba gear, and maybe we would begin to truly see each other. Maybe things would make more sense. Probably not.

Well, nothing else to say right now. With the weather like it is, I really just want to curl up in baggy pajamas with a good movie. I really want to take a long nap. I really want to make chocolate chip pancakes and have a pillow fight. Well, the last thing was just a random thought, but it could be fun with the right people...if they didn't hit too hard. I am kind of a wuss.

If I love you is that a fact or a weapon?

"We Are Hard" by Margaret Atwood

i

We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.

The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aim, our choices
turn them criminal.

ii

Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.

Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over & over
perhaps because you own
so few of them

iii

A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?

iv

Does the body lie
moving like this, are these
touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?

Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.

It is only
here or not here.

To look life in the face, always to look life in the face...

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" did not disappoint. It was just as fabulous as I remembered, and upon second viewing I found portions of the movie much more poignant. There are certain moments, specific lines, that cut to my core...open my eyes...make me understand the human condition, the human heart. Oscar Wilde once wrote, "Life imitates art far more than art imitates life." In the case of this film, I would say art imitates life so finely, so intelligently.

Watching the move last night made me think about two completely disjointed ideas. I will attempt to explain them the best I can. They may make no sense.

1. What if deja vu is really erased memories? Now, when I was watching the movie last night, I tried to put myself in a world where the process of erasing memories is a possibility. Or, really...what if, in our world, erasing memories is a possibility, but we don't recall erasing them because we have gotten rid of all evidence, and letters have been sent to those close to us, telling them not to mention the details of our past, erased, memories? This is where the concept of deja vu comes in. I will create a scene where you can see how this would go into effect. Okay, so say I erased a relationship I had that ended messily and left me a total wreck. I went in, had the procedure done, got rid of any little trinkets left behind, and everyone in my life had been made aware of this erasure. One night I am sitting in the library studying and I notice someone sitting at a table across the room. We catch each other staring. We meet. We hit it off. A few months later we are dating and holding hands, sitting at Sonic ordering when suddenly, it all feels familiar. The drink orders, the music, the positioning of the hands. Deja vu, right? What if it wasn't? What if you had been in that exact situation before with the same person but in looking back at it after the break-up it had caused you so much pain you had had it erased? What if deja vu is really moments we have already experienced, but we have consciously (or maybe even subconsciously) erased. Far-fetched, yes...but an interesting idea I think. I also find that I have deja vu with the same people. Coincidence? You think about it.

2- Would we still find and love the same people? In the movie, true love transcends all obstacles, perseveres through all trials. Even though Clementine had erased Joel, she felt incomplete without him. Even though she didn't remember ever being with him, it seemed like there was a void in her heart after the procedure that only Joel could fill. The same thing happens to Joel. He realizes, during the process, that he doesn't want to wipe his memories of her out because they were so precious to him. Even with the process complete, he is still searching for her, though he doesn't even know who she is. The second example is of Mary and Dr. Howard Mierzwiak. They had had a relationship and she needed to have it erased from her memory because of the dire consequences for both he and his family, and her. The process was completed, but she still fell into the same patterns. Like in my example of deja vu above, the ex-couple met back up again, despite forgetting their previous relationship, and fell in love. I guess, to sum up this rambling, my question is: Even if there are barriers, and I can't imagine a greater barrier than blocking someone out completely, would we still find the same people to love and have love us? What if there is a magnet of the heart, I suppose? Something that would keep drawing us back and keep drawing us back despite the history or consequences, because this person's love is a necessity. As Barbra Streisand sings in "The Way We Were":

Can it be that it was all so simple then

or has time rewritten every line?

If we had the chance to do it all again,

tell me would we, could we?



I think maybe we are destined to make the same mistakes, so to Barbra I would say "yes". I really think

there is something more than our minds at work, drawing us to certain people; I think it is our hearts.

Our hearts discern familiarity in each other. This is how it is possible to feel at home with people

you may have only known for a few hours. This is how peace comes in moments shared with friends. There is a

magnet of the heart that can't be ignored. I think, if my memory was erased, I would have still found the

ones my heart can't ignore. I truly believe this.



My favorite lines from "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind":



Clementine: This is it Joel, it's going to be gone soon.

Joel: I know.

Clementine: What do we do?

Joel: Enjoy it.

(I don't know why, but these lines really get to me. They know that in just a few minutes they will no longer

remember each other or have these truly wonderful memories of their love, but instead of trying to hold on

to them for dear life, they just go with it and enjoy their last moments together.)



Clementine: Can I borrow a piece of your chicken?

Joel: And then you just took it, without even waiting for an answer. It was so intimate.

(I love this scene as well, because I guess it's something I long for. That closeness. That intimacy. It is a truly

simple, touching, beautiful moment in the movie.)

And I'm dyin' inside to leave you with more than just cliches...

Leave it to me to jinx the weather. I have been talking about how great and cool the weather is, and today it was hot again; come on Texas! I had to get semi-professional looking this morning at 7am to teach an 8am freshman English class. Semi-professional aka nice (sweltering) pants and a button-down (thought I would faint) shirt. Even if I wore an expensive suit, put on my glasses, and...possibly even had spoken in a British accent, they still wouldn't have taken me seriously. Fortunately for me, the essay Dr. Fink had the class read was both entertaining and kind of pop-cultureish, which I love. We laughed, we had class discussion, and I had a blast, even though it was eight o'clock. I cannot wait to actually begin teaching, because it is truly a high for me to get to share my passion for not only literature and art (in various forms), but people as well.

I am so thankful for my relationship with my mother and the wisdom she is always willing to bring to the table. Today we had lunch at Bogie's and I love how we can sit and talk and laugh at each other, more like friends who respect each other's ideas; that is invaluable to me. She has always encouraged me to be a free thinker: open-minded, strong-willed, and able to form opinions on my own. One way she went about this was to start talking to me like I was an adult when I was a very small child. She always let me choose what I wanted to wear (Sometimes it was frightening! The button-covers Danielle!), she never talked down to me, she always spoke at an adult level. When my youngest brother was born, I did not understand why she didn't want us to talk to him like a baby, because I wanted to do everything for him and carry him around, etc. As I have watched him grow up, all I can do is laugh because he is his own little man, complete with opinions on everything (most of which he can back up with facts) and a vocabulary that is kind of unreal for a nine year old. Back to my mother-- over the past few weeks I have really taken notice of how she loves me. Not how much she loves me, but how she loves me. When I was younger I used to think she was unsympathetic, but now I understand that she has been preparing me for the real world, showing me how to care for myself. This is one of the many ways she shows me, and my brothers, her love.

This afternoon I had a wonderful two hour coffee session with my friend Cara. We had not talked in a while, so it was nice to see her. We both had fruit smoothies at Java City, and I most certainly recommend them to you-- muy bueno! Java City should really look into the condition of their booths though, because on two separate occasions Cara and I could have easily lost legs or at least a thumb or something to the crazy topsy-turvy booth. We would have sued. I would have moved to Paris on my monthly checks. Maybe I would have gotten a motorcycle. Maybe I could have gotten a fancy umbrella in case it rained during my daily stroll through the gardens by Notre Dame. I am craving a chocolate crepe and a glass of Chablis. Hmm... maybe I should go back and put my life in the hands of the booth bench again and see what I come away with. Maybe I would be a seven-figure check richer and a thumb shorter. I mean, what's a thumb? Well, I would rather it be my pinky I think. Either way, I could definitely use a flat in Paris with imported Pottery Barn, and lots of Chablis chilling on my fabulous dining room table right about now.

Well, I have some friends coming over soon, and I don't want to be sans shower when they arrive. Reason for not having had shower yet: I was hoping to ride the 10 K route today, but I think I will do that tomorrow afternoon. Well, today has been good-- really good. I will leave you with lyrics to an Over the Rhine song that is playing right now. Over and out.

Latter Days

What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be.

Lord knows we've learned the hard way all about healthy apathy.
And I use these words pretty loosely.
There's so much more to life than words.

There is a me you would not recognize, dear. Call it the shadow of myself.
And if the music starts before I get there dance without me. You dance so gracefully.
I really think I'll be o.k. They've taken their toll these latter days.

Nothin' like sleepin' on a bed of nails. Nothin' much here but our broken dreams.
Ah, but baby if all else fails, nothin' is ever quite what it seems.
And I'm dyin' inside to leave you with more than just cliches.

There is a me you would not recognize, dear. Call it the shadow of myself.
And if the music starts before I get there dance without me. You dance so gracefully.
I really think I'll be o.k. They've taken their toll these latter days.

But tell them it's real. Tell them it's really real.
I just don't have much left to say.
They've taken their toll these latter days.
They've taken their toll these latter days.