Music is my boyfriend

Have you tried the Genuis sidebar in iTunes? You know, it takes what you have in your library and figures out new playlists for you based on what playlists other people have made?

Because I am the type to get in a rut, this has been amazing at pulling out all kinds of songs I forgot I had in my library, or songs Kevin downloaded, and making a playlist around certain subtle moods.

I do want to know, though, why it insists on putting the Carpenters "Merry Christmas, Darling" in so many of my playlists. There it is, next to Beck's "Where It's At" or Feist's "1234." But I swear I have other songs in my library.

I'm thinking of loading up Lex de Azevedo's "A Time to Love" soundtrack to mess with everyone else's playlists.

Coneflowers

Right now the only Echinacea I'm getting is in my cough drops.

Contrast

I wouldn't even call the day I took this picture of downtown a particularly clear one.

Hey sky, remember me?

Hopeful Celebration

May this Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day be an especially reflective one. And as we go forward with new oportunities, may we be the change we wish to see in the world.

A little brightness

Something bright emerging on a typical pollution-ridden January inversion day.

Platinum Man

There are times in a marriage that are golden. And when a certain husband finds a certain favorite painting for his wife and gives it to her, without even really knowing how much she has admired it, you have one of those times.

Then he tells her he loves it because it reminds him of the beauty of the "divine feminine." It's not just gold, it's platinum.

Sunset on Oquirrhs

It may be an absolute week from hell, but last night I found this fleeting vision as I walked to my car. By the time I was on the freeway, the clouds had closed in and it was gone.

My passion is to part a curtain

"My continuing passion is to part a curtain, that invisible veil of indifference that falls between us and that blinds us to each other's presence, each other's wonder, each other's human plight."
-- Eudora Welty

Homer : Well I won the belching contest at work. (belches in Jay's face, everyone laughs)
Jay : Nice, Homer. (belches longer and louder, car alarms go off outside)
Lisa : Wow! How many Pulitzer prize winners can do that?
Jay : Just me and Eudora Welty.
--The Simpsons, "A Star is Burns"

I love the quote from Eudora Welty (actually, I love both of the above quotes). This hits on my favorite philosophy from grad school, Emmanuel Levinas' post-modern ethics.

Lately I've had words on the tip of my tongue for others--why didn't they say this thing I wanted them to say? Why can't I get this friend of mine to be the kind of friend I want them to be? Why do they have to keep doing these things they do? (No friends, I'm not talking about you. These are examples.)

It's very easy for my to become absorbed by my own thought and perceptions. This self-absorption makes me want to create other people in my own image--hey, how can that be bad? It means that I can set up expectations, with or without informing the other party, and then wonder why they didn't say the thing I expected them to say or do what I expected them to do. They don't because they're not me. They're other.

I would say that the "veil of indifference" Welty refers to is only exists because to us it appears to be a reflection, that veil that tricks us into thinking that the other is actually the same with us, that we have some control over the other, that we are free and they are confined to our minimal understanding of them. That we know all their deepest thoughts.

Stepping beyond that, I begin to see those around me for who they are, for their otherness wrapped up in their infinite number of experiences and thoughts that are different than mine. At first I'm learning to be OK with this, that I can't make someone be who they're not. But I hope for more than that. I hope that eventually I will learn to love them precisely because I cannot make them be who they are not. Because in that otherness, I learn to see the immense enormity that is another human soul. Also, the idea that I don't know everything actually brings me hope (I'll explain this sometime if that seems odd).

I love how Welty describes this thought process as a passion. I don't know that discovering others' otherness is yet a passion for me, but I want to move that way.

Snow

Celestial white winter's light

Slippy, drippy

Stopped, ossified

Surfeit and superabundance

Fixated, roaring in static

First Cat Pic of the Year

Even a feral-born cat knows how to make herself comfortable under soft, warm blankets.

Here's to the new year with happiness, love, and comforts for all.

We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Seven Years

Seven years is a darn good thing when it's spent with your best friend.

Going Gawking

One of Kevin's family traditions is to go on drives to look at the lights on people's homes at Christmas. This turns into the quest for trees that have been done up really well (each branch illuminated with light, as opposed to the sloppy wrap-around). But it also leads us to find the odd and amusing lighted outdoor decor that people will put in front of their homes. So over time, a bizarre decoration has become just as good to see as a professional-looking light job.

One Christmas Eve, we split the family up in two cars equipped with walkie-talkies to communicate between vehicles. We had a great time joking back and forth, and occasionally poking fun at the decorations we saw, until the fire department came on our walkie-talkies, asking us if everything was OK, and we realized they had heard our conversations. Oh, the embarrassment.

To build on that, I thought I'd share some treasured Christmas light "gawking" fun. In less than 30 minutes of driving, we found the following beauties:

"No, Frosty! Don't do it!" Nothing like a glam, gleaming Frosty right on the edge.

I still don't get these huge blow-up lawn decorations. This one is a Christmas tree with a sled stuck in it on the right and a Santa hanging off it on the left. It's amazing how many people put up sorry-looking "hang 'em high" Santas in different forms (hanging from poles, banners, places of business), but the sight of this deflated Santa cracked me up.

I don't know how to explain this house, as its mysteries are many and astounding. This house is one of the best.

On the right, we have in a basement window a glowing floating Santa head, beaming out with a detailed mouth. Above in the window there's something that looks like it may once have been a Tweety Bird, but the lights have faded and it's indistinguishable. I think it looks like an alien or a fetus.

One the left we have these smiley faces on sticks, with a big light shining on them for all to see. All I want to know is why.

One million lights

Or almost.

Heifer Holidays

Lately I've been bugging Kevin about checking out the zoning laws to see if we can have chickens. They're totally sustainable, eating garbage and making eggs, which I love (eggs, not garbage). Besides, I just like having pets.

While I realize that having chickens is not realistic anytime soon, I found something better in Heifer.org. For a couple of years I've been getting their catalogues of gifts that buy livestock for developing communities. The beneficiaries of your gift give offspring of their livestock to another community member, so it's a gift that keeps on giving. And the chicks are so cute.

Perhaps some of your friends and family may not be thrilled to receive a charitable donation as a gift, but I am sure others would be. Six geese a-laying cost $20, and could provide 450 eggs a year to a poor family.

It's better than feeding the Walmart beast, is it not?

Mr. Krueger's Christmas

I make sure to watch Mr. Krueger's Christmas every year. It's the last film Jimmy Stewart made, and it even stars the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

What a special man Willy Krueger is, going about his custodial duties, never complaining. He refuses to let his loneliness get to him, and burns with Christmas spirit and imagination. And he's a cat person to boot! The scene where he imagines he's at the manger has one of the most honest and open prayers I have heard.

Joshua Tree in SLC

Ever driven across the desert on I-15 between the Arizona canyon and Las Vegas? Have you seen the Joshua trees? I guess they're all over the Southwest and even in Northern California, but they're certainly scarce here. While they grow in St. George, they don't even make it up to Cedar City's frigid altitudes. But we have one here in the SLC.

I disovered this Joshua tree a couple years ago on a lunchtime walk, but it took me this long to get a picture. It's not a great picture taken in the dark, and the xeriscape looks so strange contrasted with the Temple Square trees behind it (side note: horses!). I've adopted this tree as a fish out of water. Do you know of any others on the Wasatch Front?

The Road Not Taken: My Alternate Reading

I realize that I posted on this just last April, but a friend reminded me of it, and I started thinking more about the questions I had then on this poem.

I am not convinced that this poem is about the merits of pursuing the alternate path, but instead is about questioning the decision to travel the unworn path. At the end of the poem, the narrator sighs and thinks about that other road that he always had intended to go back and take, but life got away from him before he was able to travel back.

May I indulge in an alternate reading? Even though the title usually is understood as the road the narrator took, the more I think about Frost's title, "The Road Not Taken," the more I become convinced that the road not taken is the one the narrator did not take. Both paths were roads, which by definition must have some passage and travellers to keep their status (he wasn't bushwacking through the brush). And Frost never says that his road was the one not taken, but only "want[ing] wear," "grassy," and "less travelled by." That leads me to conclude that the title and focus of the poem is the other road, the road of conformity, which keeps its place as an absent presence through the poem.

What if this is the pensive meditation of the non-conformist on what could have been? What if it is the uncertainty that is granted about battles that were fought against the mainstream, and the questioning if that path was worth it in the end? The poem doesn't seem to answer these questions for me, but raise them.

As far as I can tell, this is quite a drastic change from the way this poem is touted by outsiders and minorities of all kinds. But now that I see it this way, I can't help myself in thinking that it is the artist that wonders what life would have been like if he'd been like everyone else instead. In the words of a Christmas carol, Do you see what I see? Does that ruin it, or add new meaning to you?

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Christmas songs that must go

I love Christmas music. I have a hard time restraining myself to listen only after Halloween (except I allow myself to listen to The Carpenter's Christmas album when it snows for the first time of the season).

But there are some songs that just bug me when they come on the store speakers or the radio. Now, if you don't feel that way, and if it's going to bug you to have me disparaging your favorite song, stop reading here.

Here is my list of Christmas songs that must go:

• "Christmas Shoes" (Newsong) - This song is the reason for this post. It's all about the narrator bragging what a good deed he did, and it's obvious for many reasons the "poor" kid was running a shoe money scam. Think about it: if you were poor and your mom was dying, would your first instinct be to go shopping?
  
• "Santa Baby" (Eartha Kitt) - Gross old lady singing nasty song with lots of innuendo to Santa. Enough said.
  
• "Feliz Navidad" (Jose Feliciano) - I hesitate to put this one on since it was first introduced to me by Sesame Street Christmas (the old one, with Mr. Hooper). But it's overplayed and a bad representation of multiculturalism.
  
• "Where are you, Christmas?" (Faith Hill) - Too much containment, not enough subversion.
  
• "12 Days of Christmas" - Some people say it's a catechism, but I don't care. It's too long, too repetitive.
  

Any I left off the list?

100 Days of Exercise

With health insurance costs rising, a lot of companies are trying to incentivize healthy behaviors. Our health insurer encourages fitness by paying everyone $60 who records at least 30 minutes of exercise for 100 days of the year. In June Kevin and I decided that we would go for it, and this week we finished our 100 days, which is a 55% exercise rate. Not that it was hard to exercise (I end up walking at lunch for a half hour most days), but my problem is that I couldn't remember to write it down and lost my chance to record a lot of days with my forgetfulness. But we did it, and now we each get $60.

What do I plan to do with mine? I plan on going out to eat!

Clouds on Mt. Olympus

I love watching how the clouds will change Mt. Olympus and Twin Peaks. They will filter, reflect, and hide light on the mountains and bring snow or rain to change the entire color palate. What a cool canvas.

On a related note, when I drove to work this morning on the I-15 corridor, I looked straight ahead but I could not see one inch of downtown. There was just one dark curtain of a cloud that they freeway went through, with a rainbow right in front. Rainbows in Utah in December are certainly a rare sight.