writing my paper today

Wish me lots of luck. While this is fascinating work (basically writing an Anthropology paper, however since it's for World Religions, I'm using MLA not AAA format, but such is life), there are only so many hours in the day.

Foolishly, I was so embroiled in the whole 'what's going on with my boyfriend?' thing that I forgot to start this project earlier in the week. Or I just wanted the adrenaline rush of doing it all now?

Eh, well it'll be an easy enough paper to write. I've chosen to outline the basic tenets of the Patchakuti Mesa carrying tradition. By that I mean I will discuss the Mesa as a representation of the shaman or carrier's Universe, how humans function as conduits of healing energy, Sacred Reciprocity, and the Eagle and Condor myth.

Either way, I'm happily employed by it now and also feeling emotionally secure.

We had a nice night in, last night, and I needed to hear that Billy had been thinking about us and that while he was in Spring Hill all day on Saturday working, what he really wanted to be doing was patching things up with me.

So we did. He cuddled me extra tight while we laughed at The Daily Show. We got improvisational and wrote a couple of little songs together. We slept in a tangle, like puppies.

expat dreaming, on such a winter daaaaaay

Last night we were all sitting around chatting about travel plans we want to make.

See, my best friend who lives in NM is pregnant, my cousin is getting married in Denver this summer, I have other cousins in NYC, and Harry will be in CA this spring...

All of that kind of got me started thinking about GOING. Somewhere.


Spirit of the Suwannee Music Park, Riverdale, Marin County.


Holland, Belgium, France, Austria, Denmark, Ireland, Wales.

Colombia, Venezuela, Argentina, Chile.

Korea, Japan, Thailand, Cambodia.


Passports are very tricky things to own; they do all sorts of things to you. Especially when you're holding hands with someone who feels the exact same way about the world being a ripe peach, quivering with the anticipation of being bitten.

gardener's journal...

So, my friend Amy has asked me to join her and few other bloggers in writing about our garden projects over at How Does My Garden Grow. I really like the idea of various different gardeners posting stories and pictures, how-to information, and updates.

And this is sort of like an extension of our actual garden. The different views, needs, resources, and experiences we can all bring to the table (literal and metaphorical) are so valuable. Can you imagine if all of life was this cooperative?

three serious questions

I think I'm ready to answer.
This is what I have so far, but I might do some editing. If you have any suggestions, PLEASE don't hesitate to leave a comment! :-)



1) What are your past and present academic history and other experiences which you feel have prepared you for an internship?


In high school, I pursued academic excellence by seriously involving myself in my education. I served as the vice president of my school's French Honor Society and competed on the Academic Team for two years. When my coursework didn't challenge me enough, I took up writing, photography, and reading ethnographic works.
For the past few years, my life has been a bright montage of mothering my two children, pursuing a college degree, and sharing my passions with others. There have been struggles along the way, but my perseverance has brought me to this moment.

In several of the jobs I’ve held, my main purpose was to connect with children and to inspire them to ask questions and investigate the world around them. As an anthropology instructor at Girls Inc, I drafted my own syllabus and presented hands-on educational activities to my class. My most current employment, at my college, has given me practical experience in office management and assisting a busy Program Director.

As a mother, I have begun to master creative problem solving, multi-tasking, and communication.

Feeling ready to synthesize these experiences is what has led me to apply for an internship in the National Museum of Natural History’s Anthropology Department.




2) What do you hope to accomplish through an internship and how it would relate to your academic and career goals?


I feel that this internship will help me to further my understanding of anthropological research, of educating the general public, and show me the internal workings of a NFP organization. As a Latin American, I am fascinated with the origins of the people of the Americas. My intended focus, as an anthropologist, is to conduct research in the field of Paleo-Indian migrations. I currently envision using several different methods to do this, including ethnographic work, linguistic analysis, and archaeology.

I have considered that this may be too broad a scope, so I am open to the idea that experience and insight gained through this internship might help me to more narrowly define my future work somewhat, even if I am not employed in anything relating to those specific future goals at the Smithsonian.




3) What about the Smithsonian, in particular, interests you and leads you to pursue this internship?


The NMNH, in our nation’s capital, is the embodiment of scientific outreach, displaying it’s remarkable collections for any who wishes to see them. The millions of people who pass through it’s doors each year are entering into a world that speaks to their very humanity, as the awe that nature inspires in us is universal.

I believe that the Smithsonian Institute is everything it’s founder hoped it would be. It is an institution that has made significant advancements in the fields of research and cultural preservations, and is renowned for diligent public service. If there was ever a symbol of American curiosity and exploration, it would be the Smithsonian Institute, and I would be honored to be a part of this institution.

and come gather 'round the stripper pole?

On Sunday, since I was sans enfants, I rode my bike up to Borders (in the bitter cold) and hunkered down with a few books and a cup of coffee. I actually zipped right through two of them, cover to cover.

The first one was Candy Girl, by Diablo Cody (that chick who wrote the screenplay for Juno). It's the true story [blah blah blah] of how she worked as a stripper, etc. Interestingly, when she first began working in strip clubs she had a decent day job and a happy home life with her boyfriend & his little girl.

Ok, granted- that's a pretty juicy story, but what I liked best about the book is her use of language. She gets the texture of words. She employs literary technique, skillful narrative, and subtle humor even though she would have still sold plenty of copies 'taking the easy way out'.

Since I've been writing a lot, when I read and my mind goes to the behind-the-scenes stuff... How was the piece constructed, and in what order? Which parts gave her the most satisfaction, or the most trouble? How much of a real life person do you write into your book, and where do you draw the line?

I don't know how to explain this

Something is going on with me.

I've had The Golden Touch in the kitchen for the past two weeks- nothing ruined, burnt, dropped, or chipped. Pretty amazing considering how clumsy I can be sometimes.


My house is clean. Well, the downstairs is, anyways.


I've COMPLETED two knitting projects in three weeks.


My intuition feels really strong right now. And my sense of smell is out of this world.


I've written more pages in my novel (apparently I'm writing a novel) this week than I have all year.


Oh, and I'm making a modern art mobile, just because I HAVE to. Helen asked me about my inspiration, and I literally had no answer, it was just something I needed to do.


Plus, it's been nearly a week since I did my nails and I haven't chipped any of the polish.

If this is what happens when someone you love f--k's you over big time, then bring it on. My perspective on this isn't just seeing the silver lining in the situation... I really know things are better this way! Woo!

in times like these (part 2)

I often tell myself that when I finally write the yarn that has knitted everything together (the past 10 years, and the ten still ahead of us), I will not have these awful panics.


When everything surmounts and my field of vision becomes a colorful, frightening palette, and when my passion gets the better of me, I often tell myself that if I would only sit and cut birds and ladies out of magazine paper, turn them around, and affix them to threads, and grids, and picket fences...

I may not know much...

... but I still feel compelled to write a how-to.

Some of my favorite bloggers do these how-to's regularly, and I've always found it to be interesting reading.


Two or three topics come to mind today, all springing from the past 24 hours or so.

In chronological order, because there is otherwise no connective thread what-so-ever, except maybe you could say the theme centers around "breaking all the rules".

How To Ride A Bike Wearing A Skirt Or A Dress

This morning, my mom really wanted to know how this is possible. Really, shorter is better, until a certain point, I'm sure. I guess I mean: avoid long or voluminous. I ride in dresses frequently, because I like to wear dresses and skirts. Jeans are difficult when it's hot out and I like jeans that are on the tighter side, anyways, so they just aren't that great when I'm riding. When you are cycling, I doubt if anyone really sees anything, but be prepared for hoots and whistles (best to just smile and ignore; you don't want to let it distract you, lest you lose your balance).

If you are going to wear a skirt with a little more volume, like I did to my archaeology meeting yesterday, what you do is straddle the bike before you sit down. Then pull the skirt to one side and use the opposite side's hand to hold it down to the back of your thigh where it comes close to your body, while the other hand holds the rest of it up and to the side. Then, while your hand is on your leg, fold the skirt that is up and to the side behind you, under your ass, and sit down on it. Now you have a shorter, tighter skirt which is perfecto. Not going to get caught in your non-danish bicycle.


How To Not Be A Bitch To The Guys That You Like

You might get a lot of feedback from the girls you know who say that the only man worth dating is one who is going to rearrange his entire life to shower YOU with attention (I seriously have had girlfriends tell me to ditch someone I was seeing because he had his own life in addition to the time we spent together), but I hope you put that idea aside for a moment and listen to what I have to say.

That is asking for too much. My goodness! Would you want someone to ask that of you?? Really? And it's the kind of thing that can be addictive, but it's definately not healthy. The giver gets worn out and the recipient grows numb.

To not be a bitch, all you have to do is treat others with the kind of respect you expect to be treated with yourself, and to not ask of someone more than you know you can give, without giving too much. That means that personal boundaries are PERSONAL. I'm not saying that you won't naturally develop closeness with someone you spend time with, but I'm saying that you don't have to try to infiltrate like you've been hired by the Dept of Homeland Security.

Also:how can someone be interesting to you if all they like is you? And, how can you expect that a normal human being won't be interested in dating other awesome people too? Aren't you dating other people too? Exactly.


How To Discuss Religion With An Evangelical Christian (Without Arguing)
Translate what you have to, in your mind, so that their points make sense to you on your own level.

Mention that you don't want to "put God in a box". They will understand this terminology.

Nod, when you somewhat comprehend. Sip your coffee and neutrally state that you don't understand when something is beyond your sphere of understanding or intrest.

If you have NO acceptance for ANY version of God/Infinite Wisdom/Universe, then you might want to not attempt this one at all! :-P

Nostalgia bit me on the behind, over at Memarie Lane

My friend, Memarie, did some digging in a box of high school memorabilia and her findings made me think about those days of yore.

It really wasn't all that long ago that I was a teenager; we had internet access in some of our savvier teachers' classrooms, low rise jeans, cell phones, spinal meningitis scares, and Columbine. Can you spot me in this sea of faces?

But it was long enough ago to feel like I could forget it all, if I'm not careful. Sort of like the answers to questions about how old your child was when they did x, y, or z. I really don't remember how old Conner was the first time he held a toy or slept through the night. Too much else has been jumbled into the too small mental storage space I have to work with. Insignificant facts from high school seem to have been lost in the fog, as well.

Why do some things stand out in my mind, like it was yesterday? Is it the emotional quotient?

Anyways, I feel inspired to regale you with a tale of mortification!

I was 17. This was a time of complete wierdness for me; I wore "wierd" cropped pants (capri pants enter as a fad, just a year later) and wrote some decent poetry with metaphors that I actually appreciated more when I re-read my work a few years later. I was very "esoteric" and reading way too much. Besides, my choice of literature was, er, different.

Ginsburg, Carlos Castaneda, Timothy Leary, Albert Camus, Kafka, Jim Morrison, James Joyce, Leo Tolstoy, and Anais Nin topped my library bill.

Did I mention I was also having problems with basic repsonsibility and remembering things from day to day? At 17, I was lucky if I remembered to GO to school, much less to return library books!

Right around the end of my senior year was when I "became a woman", so to speak and the experience had a huge impact on me. I was so happy that I had waited until then, feeling very in touch with my burgeoning adulthood.

Thankfully, memories from that specific time in my life don't evade me too much. But maybe it helps with the remembering that I ended up living in that same house, with the same man, smelling the same roses every day as I came and went. I recently unearthed a photo of my son, as an infant, wrapped in the same quilt that had been on the bed THAT day, years before, when I was almost 18, done being a child (and almost done with high school & with being so wierd and esoteric).

Well, enough setting the scene, and onto the embarrassing part:

I had a teacher, the grey and wizened Dr. E, whom I found really inspiring. He was controversial and wierd and well-read. He'd let us sit in the hall outside his class with thick volumes if we felt like reading instead of going to some nonsense-class.

One day I had (no doubt, distractedly) been journaling/poetry-writing on the back of a research paper outline I had to turn in to Dr. E. And what I had written was pretty licentious, albeit creative. Interestingly, his note on my paper advised me to continue to write- on my own time!



Ok, now the story is preserved for posterity. My work here is done.