Couching Potato

I have a pint of Ben & Jerry's Red Velvet ice-cream in the freezer right now. I'm waiting for the right time to savor it. Maybe the moment when I'm feeling stressed out by Dennis or James or when I'm trying to motivate myself to pack or after mass on Saturday or in the midst of ninety degree temperatures which are enough to provoke the worst whining.

This isn't quite the time I had imagined to be spending in Houston. Sitting around planning when to devour the ice-cream I've been anxious to taste since I found out about its existence. Being marooned in a city that's too big for anyone's good. Feeling dehydrated of all energy, just wanting a cool dark rock to disappear under.

I'm shedding a skin here in Houston. Or at least in the process of beginning to grow a new one. Houston has been a great desert for reflection. It has been a vast lonely hell in which to weep and gnash my teeth. Somewhere between a retreat and the laziest I've felt in a while.

I'm listening to Death Cab's new single You Are a Tourist. It sums up how I feel sweetly. In particular:

and if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born Then it's time to go And define your destination There's so many different place to call home

This week I feel like I've had some meaningful correspondences with a few people. I called Bren earlier this week and I spilled out all the thoughts I'd been having vocation-wise. Over the weekend I had written to David a very long lamenting email (appropriate for the supposed end of the world) and received a reply from him today. Every day I read Kathy's blog wishing I was there to bask in her awesome insightfulness. It all makes me miss South Bend, where no one is trying to argue that the over digitized fluff on the radio is real music, or that modeling is meaningful, or that the Catholic church is perverse and evil, or that community is some impossible ideal.

I've never felt so aware of what an idealist I am. So much so that my ideals have become my reality. Here I hear people talk about saving up to buy condos so that they can live luxuriously alone. My friends in South Bend always talk about buying houses that they can use to build community and offer hospitality in. You know, when I first moved into the Worker I was really nervous, so nervous I put off showering for a couple of days. Insert something about being laid bare within a community. But I remember the day I took my first shower there. I might have even washed my hair. At the time the second floor bathroom had an amazing shower head that made you feel like you were showering in a rainforest or under a waterfall. And from that point showers became part of my litmus test for the homeyness of a place.

Jess's shower was great for singing. The Peace House shower had that great world map shower curtain. Mara's shower featured body wash from Trader Joe's. Suzanne's shower has the most amazing shower head, several settings. But sometimes I have to take two showers a day here and it doesn't ever feel like home. Warm showers, more likely cold showers, singing, not singing. Nothing. Oh well.

In a semi related vein, apart from the holy spirit that dwells in each of us, I don't think there is anything more perfect than water. We went swimming in James's parents' pool last week. And it was incredible. I'm found of telling Stacy "I just want to be in the water!" I love the ethereal weightless feeling you get from being in the water. And I think Sheila should start an aqua yoga class. And I really can't wait to possibly be dipped into the Atlantic Ocean. I think the thing I love most about water is its immense symbolism. In the Tao te Ching, the analogy of stone being eroded or smoothed by a stream is used as an example of how the soft overcomes the hard. Water is essential liturgically.

This has rambled on enough.


"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence

Location:Wisteria St,Bellaire,United States

Wednesday is my day

Look at the joy on those faces. Isn't it one of the best things you've seen today. I know it's one of the best things I've felt. What is better? Meet Stacy. She's my saucy mama. Today we went out for lunch at Ninfa's (which we had a very difficult time finding and I think that we drove around in a circle before we actually happened upon it). After lunch we went to visit Guy at PPBC sat and talked for maybe an hour. On the way back into town I took this picture of the skyline.





And while we were in the Museum of Natural Science I took this picture.





So let me tell you about the MoNS. It completely exceeded my expectations. I saw fossils and dinosaurs. I walked through the galleries for chemistry and energy. There was a lot of information on the drilling of oil, or "Texas tea" as it's called. Stacy and I rode in a simulated geovator. We saw an awesome pendulum that was knocking down wooden blocks. And with fifteen minutes left before the museum closed we walked through the gem vault and the hall of minerals.

I've never really appreciated science. Being of the artsy fartsy variety I have greatly neglected becoming acquainted with the sciences. But today some of the science I saw was just as awesome as art. Maybe more awesome. Those gems and minerals. The periodic elements. The malacology.

Anyway what was better than appreciating science was the fun I had with Stacy. It never fails that we have a great time when I'm in town and I can always talk to her about what's on my mind without fear of judgement or misunderstanding. She's going to be a great social worker, like some other people I know.

So far this has been my favorite part of being in Houston spending time with Stacy (and Guy and Sylvia). And the fact that there will be more times, that's the icing on the cake.


"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence

Location:Wisteria St,Bellaire,United States

The word of the day is zeitgeist

Being a rock star is not easy.

James has a wii. He also has guitar hero and band hero. I'm not really into video games but I am into performing. So I started my own progression on band hero and started out singing but then felt a tug to take a more rhythmic route. So I got out the drum set. I play on easy.

Finding your own rhythm is not easy. This world will not encourage you to follow your own instincts, it will try to drown out your intuition. But what about your friends? The last thing you want to do is step on toes when you're trying to find the beat. I feel incredibly clumsy when it comes this.

It is easy to butt heads when you're trying to find your own rhythm. Early this week James and I had a "huge" fight. It was hilarious to me when I woke up the next morning to think that we had been near strangling each other, the fact that we're so similarly tempered at times our anger flaring up like a gasoline soaked matchbook.

After yelling, storming off, succumbing to some poor coping mechanisms (I bought a pack of American Spirits and smoked about three of them instantly) our fevers broke we actually listened and were able to act like the pseudo adults we are. It was a complete fulfillment of James' prediction on mother's day about how my visit would be. He said, "It'll be both really amazing and really terrible, but it will never just be mediocre."

This is all too true. And as someone whose personality and moods dwell so often in extremes it seems a sort of indictment be phenomenal or be horrible but never ever ordinary. Heaven knows I can't be and am often not awesome all the time, being a rock star is not easy. And while it would be easy at first to be awful, to never try... Eventually that becomes difficult too.

And speaking of extremes how about making peace with extreme weather. My first few days in Houston were filled with the regret that comes with leaving a cool place for a sweltering sweaty one. I wasn't sure I would survive. The heat, the humidity, the lack of breezes. It was like living in a closed mouth. I hated sweating and then a shift: I love sweating. If I'm sweating my body is obviously doing its job. My brain is receiving info from my skin, neurons are firing, perspiration is occurring, core temperature is decreasing. Voila, ladies and gents. The more I can realize what a rock star my body is the less the heat is an issue.

Do you know what I mean? The more that I appreciate our twelve year friendship, the less I want to punch James in the face when he gets on my nerves. But seriously. The less important these minor frustrations become. The more important it is to accept and love.

Anyhow today is James' birthday. There will be good food, errands to run, mimosas for breakfast, party time, gifts. And I am wacky about birthdays and this is the first one of our birthdays that James and I have spent together probably since 8th grade. So happy birthday to my "hey baybee" James. Lord knows he deserves all contentment and love.


"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence

This is the first day of my summer

Sunday & Monday mornings

I'm in Houston! This is happening and I am here. Brian Fair always asks me what does the M stand for? My daily wear glasses have M's on either side. The M stands for:
Mosquitoes. I have a bite on my wrist the size of a strawberry.
Muggy and moist. I'm sweating.
Mimosas. Are you surprised?
Mother's Day. Gotta buy my momma a gift.
Mara. As I was unpacking some things, I thought to myself maybe I packed too much... I don't think I'm going to read all these books. Oh well.

My send off was fabulous. Sheila, Mara, and Kathy sent me off in the grandest fashion drumming singing and laughing the whole time. We did yoga and ate buckwheat banana pancakes, mangos and perfectly seasoned eggs for breakfast. At the airport I checked my bags breezed right through security had some Ben & Jerry's to calm my nerves since I'm really determined to quit smoking this summer and waited to board my flight.

There's nothing like flying after years of not flying to make you feel like a baby. My ears popped a lot. They were sore by the time we landed. Having paid the extra ten bucks for early bird boarding I boarded the plane and snagged the window seat in row one.

Here are snippets from a draft of the poem I started on the plane:


Why are clouds so queer?
Sometimes mountains
or the heads of infant elephants
or Chinese new year dragons
Then bodies of water lacking depth stretching from a bosom of blue

& how does the earth feel about all this
the sporadic simultaneous lifting off &
redistribution of skins & slick spleened souls
across her body?


A squirrel trembles in the doorway. But the great Dane watching it from the couch won't pounce. James and I bought a fan yesterday so that I don't wilt in the heat of the day. Saturday evening we sprawled out on the front lawn and despite suffering several bug bites enjoyed the cool that came with sundown. The moon hung in the sky like the Cheshire cat's smile.

I am focusing on being here now. Creating an effective routine of my days. I woke up this morning at 6 and took Rei on our first walk. James and I had a little breakfast and then he left for work. I unpacked all my clothes, listening to NPR... catching up on my favorite blogs, writing this dear blog.



"Sing, if you can sing, and if not still be musical inside yourself."
--Mary Oliver, More Evidence

Location:Wisteria St,Bellaire,United States