666-6666

If discretion is the better part of valor, why don't I just go dig through my car for the new journal I bought instead of pouring my insides out onto the Internet? But this blog was designed to be a connection between you and me for when our schedules conflicted and I could neither talk to you on the phone or write you a letter. I have been sitting at this iPad for days. I am officially addicted to the Internet. Call me.

Occupy This

Sometimes desperation makes me really want to avoid/apply to grad school. Is this the inevitable next step in the whole go-to-high-school-to-get-into-college-to-graduate-with-a-meaningful-yet-useless-degree-that-has-you-intelligently-questioning-the-entire-fabric-of-society-and-existence-until-your-student-loans-and-unemployment-force-you-back-into-the-next-steps-of-grad-school/career/mortgage/kids-that-you-so-cleverly-thought-you-could-avoid-by-learning-about-sustainability/farming/bartering/building/(r)evolution? I feel like a victim of naysayers'

self-fulfilling prophecies.

Do you remember 8am Sociology 101? We were new friends then. You would come to my dorm two doors from yours and literally pull me to class. You walked sure-footedly and I'm still dragging my feet. We read and wept. One of the first things we learned was that we were in college due to society's expectations yet would graduate into a sea of college graduates and not enough qualified jobs. The numbers are black and white. Figures they'd wait until we already bought our textbooks and tuition to tell.

Then, there was Honors class where we analyzed Misfits and Outsiders, mainly to learn that most people worth studying lived miserably outcast lives. Sometimes to console myself, I cite that even Mozart's father wanted him to get a day job.

purer than purest pure

purer than purest pure whisper of a whisper so(big with innocence) forgivingly a once of eager glory,no more miracle may grow --childfully serious flower of holiness a pilgrim from beyond the future's future;and immediate like some newly remembered dream-- flaming a coolly bell touches most mere until (eternally)with(now) luminous the shadow of love himself:who's we --nor can you die or i and every world,before silence begins a star e.e. cummings

Queer Theory

Constructs of reality. The limitations of language. Dogma and institutions of love.

Does heterosexual monogamy leave room for the healing power of touch? Who can I ask and trust to help me? I can't afford a doctor, massage therapist, or another broken heart.

Don't leave me all alone. My bare feet like to feel the bare earth. My body likes to feel embraced by love. This body has been abused. And it wants to know that not all touch is abuse. Not all touch is monogamous love.

Intimacy. What does it mean? I do not want to be a caged bird. Yet I've seemed to kill two birds with one stone for fear of being alone. And fear of commitment.

But I'm rising above. A newer consciousness is introducing discernment. Step outside the ego and learn. Create. Envision. See.

Imagine.

Delirium

Do you ever get the feeling that you don't quite live in reality? Either presiding in the past, the future, or an inaccurate perception of the possible present?

What is it like to hold multiple truths that may in fact be only fantasies?

Sometimes self-improvement feels like masochism.

Where does our love go?

Thank you for shedding light upon my soul. Thank you for seeing my loving nature and my good intentions for the world. Thank you for seeing the pain it brings when my actions, all intended for the greater good, are misunderstood.

Thank you for shedding light upon the shadows. Love sees me letting go of the illusion of control. Love sees me drawing lines between lust and everlasting. Ephemeral/Eternity. Elope?

Where do your feelings go? Are they like water, ebbing and flowing naturally through a source of eternal love? Or is there a door, like a dam made by man, to manipulate the energy? May I gain entry through the gates of heaven or am I damned?

It seems as though there were some great divide between my body and my soul. War torn and seeking asylum.

Who can be blamed for the moment of truth? There on the rocks in the river, where the earth meets the water, when the spirit moves you?

Lead me for Your Mercy's sake to paths of Truth and Grace.

Blogging while I walk the dog

Just because you're trained to help people doesn't mean you can fix your family

Technofetish

Oh shoot. I'm writing this on(don't be mad) an iPhone. My old trusty cheap phone fromMeijer in Michigan fell into a bucket as I washed salad last week at the farm. And as someone in a new town, where I tend to get lost, someone who's applying for jobs and who doesn't have internet at home...it makes sense. Excuses,excuses.
farm news- tomatoes are started and just beginning to germ. Cherokee purples for the win! Planting potatoes this week... white kennebec and a variety of red potatoes too. Ja and I have been making soap under the guise of experimenting with products for our future farm business. Last week Ginger and lemongrass with. Cinnamon swirl. Today we made tea tree and tangerine with calendula petals. Last week we met with the incubator kitchen woman and found out that selling pickles is not As bureaucratic as I thought. Life is so exciting and I might have two jobs now. Plus the farm and finishing school. Sometimes is hard to explAin myself to new people: grad school in Vermont, homeless shelters, yes I'm a farmer... Got laughed at at dv training when I sAid I have chickens in an ice breaker game. It seems like The Farm is still a marginal position here. It gets a little chuckle sometimes.
The sun is out and my thumbs are tired. Now thAt ican get online at home I'll be better about blogging.