animated, demonstrative, alive

In Between the Pillars

2008-01-10T06:38:00.000-08:00

These men just finished placing solid steel pillars in concrete to stop vehicles from parking on the pavement outside a sports bar downtown. They are cleaning up at the end of the day.

How long do you think it will be before they realize where their vehicle is parked?

Number of journalists killed up 244 percent over 5 years, media watchdog says

2008-01-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

The number of reporters killed on the job has risen 244 percent over the past five years, due in large part to the Iraq war, Reporters Without Borders said Wednesday.

More than half of the 86 journalists killed worldwide last year died in Iraq, the Paris-based media watchdog said. In 2002, by comparison, 25 journalists were killed worldwide, and the number has risen steadily since, it said.

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2008/01/02/news/Journalists-Killed.php

I removed my coat.

2007-11-15T09:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I stepped outside of my apartment building and found the air in New York City refreshingly crisp. As I stepped out the wind stirred around me, as if greeting my entrance to the day.

The brisk air tickled my skin and made it tingle.

I walked to the subway, encouraged by the freshness of the air. As I glided along in delight, one of my neighbors jutted out and asked me, "Oh my, where is your coat?!" Surprised by his alert, I began to notice that all the people walking the streets were covered in their coats and blazers, missing out on this rare natural delight in NYC.

As I continued my trip, I began noticing stares of confusion directed at my bare arms posing that same question to me in their minds, "Where is your coat? Where is your coat? Can't you see we are all wearing coats?"

So, I put on my coat. Against my own skin's delight, I covered myself to avoid the stares. I fit their profile; I put on my coat.

Then, I thought, "How many times have I done this before? Changed something about myself to suite another's fancy?" To my own embarassment, I remembered too many times.

So, rather than rob my skin of such a rare, nice breeze, I removed my coat.

Quick Commentary on the Evolution of Language

2007-06-22T09:38:00.001-07:00

Language is alive. It is a direct reflection of culture and time; it morphs to suit each generation, each social class, each gender, each corporate vertical market, each president.
There are multiple causes for the evolution of language and, therefore, many, many effects.

Over the last fifteen years childhood audience language has evolved from Michelle Tanner’s, “You got it dude,” to Raven’s “Oh snap,” or London Tipton’s “Yay me.”

Over the last 5-10 years common communication language has changed from “I’ll call you later, to “I’ll text you later,” “I’ll email you later,” or “I’ll myspace you later.”

It’s inevitable. Language is alive.

Somewhere a corporate suite is thinking, “I need my employees to believe this, or my consumers to think that, or my partners to agree with this.” And, they hire people to make this happen, and audiences’ ideas are evolved.

Somewhere a comedian is plotting, “If I could coin this phrase, or this mannerism, or form some great material around this common thing I could evoke this reaction, and I would be a hit.” And he/she does, and years down the road that specific phrase or mannerism or material excerpt evokes that reaction, which makes us remember them, which makes them successful, and the language sticks. (Hence, “I’m Rick James, bitch,” or “I’m riatch, biatch!).

And, when we think about this living being - language - and how it changes and bends, we realize that communication is not so simple. We realize that there are gaps we must overcome and other perspectives we must consider. Just because we think a “simple” phrase means what we think it means, doesn’t mean it actually does.

Acknowledging this constant evolution makes one step back and consider, “How will my audience see this?” “How will my boss read this email?” “How can I make them understand what I mean?” And, you know, it’s rather humbling.

You Say; I Say

2007-06-12T12:49:00.000-07:00

You say, “potato;” I say “solanum tuberosum.”

You say “mistake;” I say “lesson.”
You say “why;” I say “why not?”

You say “silly;” I say “necessary.”
You say “necessary;” I say “silly.”

You say “respect;” I say “fear.”
You say “discipline;” I say “abuse.”

You say “stupid;” I say “your opinion.”
You say “remember when;” I say “move on.”

Letters of a Changing Life: Letter One

2007-06-12T08:53:00.000-07:00

Letter One:

Dear Mr. Harrison,

I have found your antics to be extremely inspiring, and your energy for writing is quite admirable. You encourage me, just by your actions, to do what I love and love what I do and not to settle for the things that keep me comfortable.

You challenge me, by your publications, to write--to stop making excuses, and write. You challenge me to write without the slightest concern for how others’ eyes might cast judgment upon my words, but to let those little expressions that float inside my head each day make their way into the mind of someone else. You say, “writing is a catharsis; an audience is a group of surgeons; your reading eyes, sharpened scalpels that though, cut into me, connects the severed tissues into some sense of coherent form,” and I believe it, and I thank you for reminding me.

I have found myself jealous at times of your carefree spirit. I find myself thinking, “I would very much like to teach Buddhist monks how to play air guitar too. I would; I really would!” And, I wonder, like a child, at the adventures you lead.

Now, I find myself at a place, a crossroads if you will, where I ask myself, “Why aren’t I teaching Buddhist monks to play air guitar?! What am I doing with all this life?”

And so, I want to thank you, Mr. Harrison, for living the way you do and writing the way you do, and inspiring others to do the same.

Your friend,

Kelly

A Declaration

2007-06-12T07:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I have fears about writing. I don’t know if I’m afraid of what I will say or afraid of people reading.

Nonetheless, I’m now writing.

I will continue to write.

And, I will not stop writing until my ashes are scattered on the earth.

I will pull my witty works from their withered workbook pages, and I’ll publish them for everyone to see.

2007-01-17T15:27:00.000-08:00

"As one walks, one must keep one’s toes pointed straight ahead towards that horizon and not mind the heel that was bruised by serpents from the past."
--Brian Harrison

relating

2006-10-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

"Cause I'm a train wreck, waiting to happen.
Waiting for someone to come pick me up off the tracks.

A wildfire born of frustration,
Born of the one love that gets me so high
I have no fear at all."

-- Sarah McLachlan

The Only Viable Option

2006-05-05T13:36:00.000-07:00

I've sat with my hands in my lap for quite some time now. Folded. Quietly thinking.

I've watched the cycle of my life, thought about it, talked about, fought about it. I've moved, with necessary precaution, in and out of relationships, hairstyles, and moods. I've walked back into memories that I did not want to revisit--places I did not want to go, voices I did not want to hear, and smells I did not want know. I've reenacted many situations, changing the beginnings and the ends, and then, after playing with imagination and what ifs, I've accepted the realities.

It is an important place to come to, reality; to see yourself as you actually are: the beauty, the flaws, the nature of yourself.
Open and exposed and honest.

It causes tremors and vomiting for some, death for others, and confusion for those that are left; nonetheless, whether death or convulsions take you, you face it, accept it, and move through it.

Your hair gets a bit dissheveled. You may swear a lot, sob a lot, stare a lot, and there are even some instances when screaming is the only viable option.

The Wound, The Mood, The Moment

2006-04-25T23:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I get lost in that place
where the music meets the wound, the mood, the moment.

It's a healing, purifying, passionate place.

And, when you find that right place of movement and mood-
that slow and thick climate of melody air-
it takes you and owns you, letting you know,
that it's okay to breathe it, real deep and real slow.

And, it moves through your body,
stretching to show, all the things that are secret,
that only you know,
giving you motion, real soft and real slow.

And, your eyes close to see it,
to feel it, to know,
where those motions will take you, will grab you, will mold.
It seeps from your fingers and you let it take hold.

Call Me Crazy

2006-04-25T00:40:00.000-07:00

Scrape your face on the asphault,
and call yourself a bitch.

So melodramatic.
In your static cling dress, wrinkled
and stuck to your thighs
like black velcro.

Runny mascara and a face
that hates. Yourself.

And so you beg for claims of insanity;
so you'll get letters
and doctors will analyze you
with squinted eyes over their glasses.

And, your chaos makes you happy.

Four

2006-04-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

Four...back when it was cute to be fat, cute to be honest, and cute to kiss everybody. The only things you had to be afraid of were strangers, snakes, and tacks in the yard.

And I quote...

2006-02-21T22:09:00.000-08:00

"Tell me who I have to be, to get some reciprocity?"
-Lauryn Hill

Photos: More Beauty

2006-02-17T20:46:00.000-08:00

Loneliness Part One

2006-02-16T12:18:00.000-08:00

Today I am sick.

I am bouncing back and forth between shivering and sweating, acheing and not.

Hours of laying in this quiet, blue bedroom have given ample time for thought.

I thought of my grandparents and their sweet, simple laughs; I thought of my brothers; I thought of old relationships, past mistakes; I thought of my parents. I thought of old friends; I thought of new friends; I thought of change and fears and hopes. I thought of loneliness, and then I stopped.

Loneliness.

What is it?

Is it a disease? Is it a drug? Why does it drive us? Why is it feared? Why is it that lonliness must be avoided at all costs? If it is not avoided, however, and is accepted, why then do those who accept it become so awkward?

People marry to avoid it, stay in abusive relationships to avoid it, lie to avoid it, serve to avoid it, pray to avoid it, die to avoid it, and go crazy if it ever catches them. What is it that makes this hurt so powerful and suffocating? What is it that we are all so afraid of?

Special Occasion Sex

2006-02-15T00:19:00.000-08:00

Special Occasion Sex

Saint Valentine's Day. A day for all to love and be loved. A day for special occasion sex.

Tonight, there are couples everywhere celebrating their companionships with lust and contentment, making the best of this day of hearts and romance. Others despise it, curse the day and everyone that prances along humming because of it. For others, however, Valentine's day is just a day of special occasion sex.

Somewhere, I'm sure there is a woman rolling out from under her husband, thanking the lord that her husband hasn't gained stamina with age, and that her sex act for the first quarter of the year is over and can now be checked off the list of yearly traditions for 2006.

Elsewhere, there is a man at a bar, wondering which lucky lady will get to share an endearing moment with him out in the back seat of his Monte Carlo, hoping that one of the ladies there is as deperate as he is and came with a condom.

Somewhere, maybe even at the same bar, a woman is waiting for someone to approach her, anticipating the time she will get to spend as the center of someone's attention, even if that brief time is spent in the back of a Monte Carlo.

Somewhere, there are two people exhausted and asleep, regaining their strength from a night of passionate exchanges, so they can wake up and exchange their passions again in the morning.

Today, several religious singles have secretly masturbated because they're not allowed to have sex or to think about it.

Somewhere, a widow sobs with a hand laid where a lover once slept, remembering his or her smell and the sound of sweet dream sleeping that echoes in memory.

Somewhere, someone has probably removed themselves from our human race because of the loneliness stinging their veins.

Somewhere, someone is thinking of someone they love, kissing someone they don't, and hating themselves for it.

Somewhere today a boy defended the girl he adores from unwanted advances and became a hero.

Today, people are doing a lot of firsts.

Today, some people made confessions they should've made a long time ago.

Somewhere, someone is pissed because they didn't get any special occasion sex.

Today, a couple tried a little harder, spoke a little softer, laughed a little louder, and tried not to make the day only about special occasion sex, but then, still ended their day with...special occasion sex.

Another Haiku

2006-02-14T21:53:00.000-08:00

Rain falls as tears do,
But rain hurts less than tears do.
Both are made to cleanse.

Haiku

2006-02-14T21:52:00.000-08:00

The trees exhale and…
We breathe in…and we share life.
We breathe together.

A Hopeful Poem

2006-02-14T21:50:00.000-08:00

Evermore

On starry nights
I cast a wishful eye,
in hopes the heavens
bid me wings to fly,
to cast myself
into that great abyss
and live for evermore.

Looking down
at dreams supposed,
that I, myself,
could not dispose,
I’d scoff at all
their ridicule
and smile for evermore.

But nestled here,
within my place,
I picture every
face of grace
and know this is
where I belong until for evermore.

And when the heavens
do take wind,
open up,
and let me in,
happy I will always bein Heaven evermore.

Sexy Poetry

2006-02-14T21:47:00.000-08:00

And then…

What would you do
if we stood
face to face,
nose to nose,
palm to palm,
and we could feel each other breathing?

How would you breathe?
Would you breathe?
Would you keep your eyes
open?
Would you move
your face around mine
just to smell me?

Would you tingle
if my hair touched your face?

I would move my hands around you.
Over your finger tips,
up your arms,
to your shoulders.

I would touch you lightly.
With feathered fingers.
Down your chest,
to your tummy.
And, I would walk around you.

On your left side,
and I would drag my fingers with me,
so you could feel me.

And, at your back
I would walk
closely up behind you
so I could smell you
and I would move my hands
with tingling fingers
slowly
up your skin
to your shoulders
and slowly
back down your arms
to your fingers
and then around you
slowly
on your right side
until I faced you
and then...

A Love Poem

2006-02-14T21:46:00.000-08:00

Do not love me
and have a partiality
for those more fair,
and this I will do for you:
I will find you
irreplaceable to my soul,
and your beauty
will shine, to me,
far above the other
gifts of God.

Photos: A bit of beauty.

2006-02-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

A bit of beauty.