Tonight in the Art Gallery

Kind of sums up my feelings. Click here to check out more from this artist.

I got some good news and some bad news. I prefer to dish out the bad news first.

My brother is not coming up to see me this weekend. I haven't seen him since I did a drive by during the birthday weekend. I could write in detail about how disappointed I am, but I don't want to. I just want to pout while watching Drew Berrymore on DVD. Which is better then a detailed complaint about how I gave up a weekend in Portland for this and now I have no brother coming up, no plans, and slime still in my fridge. We made the slime during one of the last visits at a Science Museum. Well, he made the slime...I realized all the other "adults" were just watching, so I stood in back with the other "adults". :O). My little Bo hashed out this co-custody of the slime. He just thought it was a cool thing to do, as if he lived up here too because his things were here. To be honest, I like playing with the slime, so I'm glad its sticking around a little bit longer.

Sleater-Kinney broke up. I found this out while reading Rolling Stone. I believe I posted before that I got the magazine to help out a coworkers kid during one of those "selling crap to pay for a trip" campaignes. I guess the mag was useful after all. I'm not really bummed, though they were on my list of bands I wanted to see live. Apparently my last chance was in Portland, OR on Aug 12th. At least it wasn't this weekend, because that would have really smarted.

Da Good News:
I just got 2 new Netflix videos....one has Drew Berrymore. Right on time, Drew!

I bought tons of veggies at the farmer's market yesterday and am making one hell of a dish tonight.

On the other end of breakups, I just found out that a couple of friends of mine are getting hitched in Toronto...one of two places we queer folk can get hitched. WooHoo!

Its a beautiful cusp of autumn day, and I am going for a bike ride before I make dinner and pop in Drew while not in Portland nor hanging out with my Little Bo.

Oh, at some point I am going to start studying too...not sure if that's good news or bad.

~BIG Mischevious Smile~

She Stops a Moment to Put Pen to Paper

I am so ready to write some brilliant and insightful piece. I want the hand to pad connection I had last year, but those epiphanies with a pen are left unmarked on this page.

Bummer.

I guess I will have to wait until the task list is a little closer to my ears to get connected to the deeper end of my pen. Funny how that works.

School has started. I’ve been to all three of my classes and already know I am going to enjoy each one of them. I also know I am going to be working hard. All signs point to this year being one of my busiest yet. There will be much more “tasky” in my life, which is hard to believe because last year felt like I was at my brim with tasky. It turns out that was just the training portion of school, building up my stamina for this years marathon event.

I’m game.

I’ve been having fun as well this new week of school, so something tells me it will all be okay. Now, lets hope those words aren’t a homing beacon for some intense sh!t moving my way, aye. I’m knocking on the proverbial wood and yanking the ear as I type this. Chuckle.

As a sentimental note, I went to my final Continuing Education Coffee Group I ran last year as a part of my internship and continued this summer as a volunteer experience. I cried and laughed. It was sad because I really did come to appreciate the experience in my life. Its time to move on, but the moving deserves a moment of loss. This group of people taught me so many things…all I really did was bring them presenters to learn from and politicians to chew on. Tehe. What they taught me was that the gift of life is time. That is what we have and knowing it presents us with a continuous opportunity to learn, grow, and have fun. How we face time then is important. How we choose to embrace our experiences is a valve for both positive and negative energies. The trick is to learn what part of the experience we have control over and what part has nothing to do with control. Then feel it, embrace it, let go and keep moving on. Those who are happy into their 90s are people who embraced all parts of life, AND could be present with others wherever they were. Funny how that works.

When I write these words, I know for myself it is important to not try and make every moment happy, fun, and on the “bright side”. Dear Goodness, that negates the balance in living. Its more…like this…presence. The ability to be present in life as is. A person who only wants fun and happiness can neither be present in their own life nor others as well as a person who only sees the oars as trepidation and worry can not be completely present in their own life or others. Wow. That’s heady. It makes sense to me and that is important.

I am also ready to move into this new phase of the year. I worked hard last year to build my connections with peers, my connection to myself, and be present in all moments. The reward is so overwhelmingly worth the hard work, I can’t even describe it.

All right, all right. I’m done. I think I wrote this for myself more then the blog world. Sometimes, it’s important to use ones words to commit to change, and also to acknowledge change…and also to acknowledge…these parts of self on this page have always been a core part of myself unchanged in change. I’ll leave you to untie that knot.

Funny how that works.

Pink Mole Hair & Ironed Sheets

I was going to do the Sunday Scribbling topic tonight and write about Monsters. Write about how I had a dream about snakes because I can’t get away from promotional commentary about "Snakes On the Plane." It seeped into my brain and I spent my sleep time collecting snakes and trying to return them to the wild before people killed them while simultaneously trying to avoid getting bit. I finally woke myself up when I realized there are no snakes with mole hair skin, particularly the pink variety. Of course being in the middle of the pacific on an island with Samuel Jackson seemed realistic compared to this.

Then tonight, I babysat a wonderful little baby who definitely kept me occupied and how nice it felt. About how a crying baby doesn’t scare me or put me off because I’ve done this before. About how a crying baby doesn’t frustrate me because I know its just a matter of learning her language to get to the other side. Kind of like with me. And when you get that balance, what a fanfuck!ngtastic feeling.

Then I was going to write about debriefing with my coworkers and how I really appreciate our humor and time together. My job can be a hard job...trust me. Its nice when you got good coworkers to balance the hard parts...

Then I was going to write about tomorrow and my plans for the morning, or the excitement for a few new outfits I want to get for the internship, or the fact that school starts this week, or that I have come to a place where I love to iron my sheets before folding them and putting them away...I know weird, isn’t it.

Then I realized my life is a good life. I’m present, able to laugh and cry when I need to or want to. This has been an important realization because I have come to a place where I feel joy in life...as it is...laughter in life without negating the whole story. That just seemed like an important lesson to get. AND my sarcasm has reached a very salty plateau I’m appreciating these days. Oh, and lets not forget, I’m moving to London next year...

now all I want to write is...

Welcome to my Life.

Now excuse me while I google ‘pink mole hair snakes’. Hey, its google, something’s gonna come up.

Don't Anyone Tell My Mom I Said This

Growing up, my Mother was big on us kids deciding where our faith lied. She exposed us to different philosophies and asked us to decide our church when we reached the final days of our adolescence. Our exposure to faith was limited to what she understood, spending Sundays at a NonDenominational church and our summer’s in Methodist and Baptist Bible Schools. Ever-so-often our exposure was broaden by our friends’ churches, my Mother always willing to let us go when we were asked. Hmm. Some of those churches I visited are stories of their own complete with a convulsing parishner I confused as having a seizure and stood up yelling, “Will someone stop praying and help this woman!” I’m just saying, if convulsing is a normal occurrence in church, there should be signs that give unknowing 10-year-olds a heads up.

When I came home with Sutra’s of Buddhist text in High School, she never told me to stop reading, though I was convinced I was rebelling against her. Even when I left the church a year after being baptized my Mother never stopped me, just saying that she hoped that though I stopped going, whatever I pepper my time with, it is imperative to feed the soul. I thought she was trying to guilt me back to “the faith”, but it wasn’t. Had my Mom been exposed to Wiccan, Buddhism, Islam, etc. we would have been exposed as well.

I connected these words about my Mother while having a beer with a friend this week. It was one of those moments in a conversation where I found an epiphany while discussing random topics. It was one of those conversations where we went everywhere and nowhere at the same time, just filling in the blanks of what we don’t know about each other, and I found a part of my self I didn’t know in that conversation.

I’ve always been hard on my Mom because of my limited exposure of a Patriarchal concept of God, but now I realized in her world, she just wanted me to have a spiritual faith. I thought she was misguided in believing in a Christian God, but I get what she was trying to let us kids do now. Kind of dampens the “I know better then my parents” thing...................damn.

I'm A Little Busy Right Now...

"I'm here", she says as this GoGo staggers to the the key board, tripping over the piles of things she collected in the middle of her home to get rid of now.

Life has been a little busy these days. School starts on Monday, so this week has been packed full of things that needed to get done, books to buy, that lap top bag purchase, hanging out with friends I probably won't get a chance to see until Decemember, wishing my little brother a BIG happy birthday, and the list goes on. I'm loving every minute of it.

At work this week, cause I now work on Thursdays during the day too now, I got promoted. I've been fighting it, actually enjoying once in my life where I don't take a leadership role, only to have stumbled into it...well really the opportunity just kept knocking and I decided it was time to listen. Its a long process at the moment, temporarily working at a higher position until it actually comes open and I can apply for it. Its a union thing. In about two months, I'll be making $3 more an hour and well...more responsibilities to boot. I'm proud of myself. The adult GoGo likes the fact that she is good at her job and enjoys it too AND people see this.

Wednesday was my Brother's birthday and Stonetree's too. Stop by and wish her a Happy Birthday. Anyway, I called my Bo on the phone and we had the best conversation. He's 12 years old and not only has he shot up to a little under my heigth (about 5'10"), but his voice has been changing these past fews months. Its weird to hear him come into the new voice...I never realized how excited I would be for him nor how much I already miss the kid voice. I wanted to devote more to posting about my little brother. Who I guess I shouldn't reference as little anymore, except its my way of distinguishing him from my older brother. He has definetly been a key part of my journey, one I am glad I share with him. He is his own person and watching him grow into the person he is has taught me lessons that are priceless. Not only that, I am the only person in the FAM who is allowed to call him Bo still. Tehe. When I was in 6th grade, I decided to stop being my kid name taking on my full real name. Instead of GoGo with a y on the end, I was GoGo...no Y. What I love about my FAM is they respected that...for a while anyway, still slipping the Y in these days. I decided the moment my Bo asked me to stop calling him that I would. Its a right of passage you know. I asked him recently, "Bo, you want me to call you by your full name?" He said that I could call him Bo, but only me. I asked him why that was, and he said that because it made him happy when I answered the phone with "Hey Bo, what's happening." My heart sings.

Other then that, I am babysitting for some friends this weekend and this too makes me full of joy. I am so honored to be intrusted with the baby. In high school I baby sat for cousins and my Mom's co workers. But something about being intrusted these days with kids just feels like such a compliment...I feel proud of myself...and I totally love playing with kids. I've decided Mommyhood is in my future, so its nice to get the practice in.

Next weekend, I am taking my little Bo, a coworker's kid, and a peer in grad school's kid to the arcade. I wanted to take my little Bo camping, but I have an appointment I can't miss now. But I am going to love playing games with the kids. If I can play my cards right, I will also be taking them to the nature center for a crafty class!

Yeah, that's about it in my world these days.

Word.

Synaptic Junction, What's My Function?

Working the over night. Doing a double. Brain shut down.

One of those nights where I can feel the synaptic junctions begin to malfunction. I feel like that robot from Lost in Space when it gets shut off, my arms flailing and my voice slowly wearing down to nothing. Its time for coffee and some movement.

I still have 8 hours, which means I’m in trouble. Its too early for fantasies about the bed and too late to not think about anything else. Working a double means I got all my work done and now I have to make up more projects. Its time like these when silly little games get invented like masking tape Bball or making a q-tip village with q-tip people. I like q-tips.

Once upon a time, in undergrad I worked in a dish room of a cafeteria. We were one of the largest cafeterias in the world and washed way too many dishes. Anyway, this place was the ultimate place for making up games. For example, we would play chess with the various glasses in the washing container they went in or people would compete to see who had the fastest time putting the silverware in the containers they went into. It was some intense competitions and there was a score board that tallied the top 3 times like a video game. Everyone in the dish room had a nickname, so the newbies were always surprised to see names like DishDawg Doug on the wall. The best game ever invented was water curling. The floor was always covered with an inch of water so we would take broken dishes and push it across the floor while our team mate would use a broom to make it go faster or slower to hit the circle. We’d use masking tape to mark the boundaries too. It was fun.

The other game that I enjoyed was when we brought in a newbie to be trained. Someone would take the newbie on a tour and bring them to the location where workers were breaking down the dirty trays. The trainer would then randomly without notice toss a dish at someone’s head, and the person would duct moments before it hit them only to have the dish break against the wall. We would get a kick out of the stun look of the new person. Perhaps we were twisted in that dish room, but what fun!

Yeah, can you tell I’m bored?

You B!tches Need To Get Your Own Cookie

One week until grad classes start up again. I’ve finalized my internship hours and worked out the job hours. This GoGo is ready. Bring it, I say, with a bead of sweat on my forehead. I feel like a Champion prepared to defend my title. What the title is I have no clue. Whatever it is, I want one of those WWF champion belts to put around my waist, complete with huge blocks of gold and black leather.

Summer exhaled this week, letting autumn take hold. I have an entry to post on this in the future. I have many an entry I keep wanting to post, but am finding time lost to other things at the moment. I also want to share more stories about Festival, but I find my words a shortcoming to all that occurred. I also find I am pretty present-minded with this page and it is about the moment when I decide to engage it.

I will write down a couple of conversations from Festival that just tickled me funny. The first one was during the last night of festival and went like this...
S: "Do you think I look dorky when I play the guitar?"
K: "No."
S: "Are you telling me the truth? I’d tell you the truth if you tell me."
K: "No you wouldn’t."
GoGo: "There it is, the truth between it all."
K: "I mean I feel dorky 80 percent of the time, myself..."
S: "Did you just call me dorky! I can’t believe you called me dorky."

GoGo: Rolling with laughter.

Here is another conversation that happened often. This one is paraphrased:
GG: "I need a cookie."
theC: "I love the fact that you always need a cookie. I want a cookie too."
GG: "Hey, Driftwood, would you get us a cookie?"
D: "You b!tches need to get up an get your own cookie."


Ta, GG

Questions for the Universe

Why do we get so many phone books each year? I've received 3 new phone books this year. I think we should have to consent to get a new phone book or have a safe word when we don't want them anymore. I never remember to take the old ones to the recycle the one time of year they take them. I have 10 phone books...I've lived in my apartment for 3 years.

Aren't we as a nation sick of reality TV and crime shows yet? For those of us without cable, its hard to flip 5 channels only to be torn - do I want to watch a crime show on Sexual Assault, Lawyers hashing out a murder case OR forensic scientists taking us through a bullet whole. Maybe I'll get lucky and see yet another singer get verbally bashed by three judges who just can't compete with Simon's and Paula Abdul's repressed sexual energy.

When did cell phones gain the power to be bombs? I leave to go to Festival and come back to more of my civil liberities taken away. Its not even the battery, that apparently causes brain tumors anyway, its the cell itself. They apparently are finding suspicious bags of cell phone batteries around my State with the actual phone missing. I hope I find a bag, I need a new battery.

I watched Kirk Cameron yesterday tell me that Christian's forget sometimes that there is a hell, and that its all Christian's duties to preach the word of God to save the world. I got sucked into it while washing my clothes from camping. Remember, I have 5 channels and one of them apparently belongs to God. If I remember, he was an obnoxious kid on TV who inspired thousands of other kids to be obnxious. I think he should get the first pew seat to hell...and to keep in line with the other parts to this entry...Do you really expect me to engage in an abusive relationship with God? Better yet, you expect me to prepetrate fear tactics to convert others? I will never fear someone I love. You want to preach something, try the EXUDOS of US military in Oil rich countries or our weapons OR how about simply reiterating Jesus's words...."Hey, someone give me a jug of water and watch me make it into wine." You thought I was going to write somthing else didn't you!

Till next time.

Festival

Coming home always feels like a chore of acclimating myself into the world again. Spending time getting use to a space where safety isn’t always present and time isn’t filled with thousands of women. It’s always hard to explain the experience called festival without rambling on for pages and hours.

A highlight was Staceyann Chin, a spoken word artist who I have followed for years now. The first time I actually heard her speak her words was at festival this time around and I laughed and cried with pure joy from the experience. It was like an unknown dream coming true.

I am not sure what else to share. There are so many things.

I will share that on my last night there; I spent time with four songbirds who I can call friends. We took a trip down to the Acoustic Stage in the darkness and moonlight. There I listened to one of them simply sing with this harmonious beauty that just melted away time and space. We sat on the stage while she danced and moved, mixing silence between her song. She touched the stage like a lover or a familiar friend with an endearing hand. When she was done, we were left in the silence of it all. We were then kicked off the stage because we really weren’t suppose to be there, but I remember telling her I was glad we did it anyway. Then we spent the rest of time just moving through the woods and the community built there. My words do not give justice to the moment. The line that comes to my head is:

I am thankful for the moment, in all its contradictions in strengths, because at that moment the beauty pierced through us and lived.

Day Residue & Waiting on Thyme

Waking up to my coworkers calling me to get my a$$ up, I jumped out of bed and put on my jeans. It looks like I am going commando tonight. When I’m not a half hour early, they know to call me at midnight to get my rear into gear. I love my job.

On the drive here, my brain felt sticky from the dream that was still stuck in my head. It was intense and fun, and I was a little sad that I had to leave it to come to work. I dreamt I was living in a new apartment. I’ve been bouncing the idea of moving lately just to change up the living space. I love my apartment, it’s a great deal, and I have a fireplace, wood floors, and a sunroom. Still I wonder what it would be like to have a new place for my final year in this town. The apartment was Spartan-esque and everything was a rough brown stained wood. Not my choice in living spaces for sure. I was hosting Chastity Bono for the LGBT group I was working for. Chastity was day residue from reading an article about her in Go NYC Magazine. She was staying at my place in the extra bedroom. Wishful thinking. She called to me and I went to check on her. She wanted to know if she could have a glass of water. Suddenly, we were engulfed with water as all the trinkets in the room and the bed sheets floated. I remember thinking I was impressed that my dream was so detailed with the effect of the water. Chastity turned into my old hairstylist who recently moved to the Portland area. Again, day residue. I haven't found a new hairstylist, being a person who is particular about who cuts the hair and was just mourning her loss earlier today because I’ll be going to Festival with a mop on my head instead of something tight. I see a sprig of Thyme floating in the water and point to it, then say as though the water wouldn’t effect me, "Look we have thyme here." Even in my dreams, I can tell a bad joke.

After putting the dream away, I arrive at work and begin to do what I get paid for. Time right now feels like a game of running then walking. My goals tomorrow are to power sleep, then do some last minute shopping, pack up the car and power nap until my 3:30 am rendevous to drive up to Festival lands. I’m like a kid I tell you. This is my Christmas, New Years, and Easter bunny in one week!

Well, that’s about it folks. I won’t be posting until sometime after I get back. I’ll try to post about my experience, but don’t be surprise if I write in abstract. If you come this way while I’m gone, here are some interesting blogs to check out in my stead.
Peace.
~GG

Two Dykes & Their Casts of Thousands
Sunday Scribblings
The Twitching Line
Paris Parfait
Deep in the Ground
Bending Peak
One Paragraph at a Time

Some day, I'll know how to link to everyone...until then a random pick!

A Hypocrite’s Response

Phh. Its late, I’m at the job again with the down time that permeates an over night. I’ve searched the internet, reading up on World News, looked at stupidly funny stuff, and read some blogs. An artist I happen to like, Bitch, wrote that she has a My Space page. Everyone has a My Space page. I personally cannot connect to My Space, not understanding why I would ever want anyone in the world to find me. I know, I know I write a blog...but this feels different, chances are my friends from High School aren’t going to know me from the name. At least let me live in my denial...I need my denial, people.

And what’s up with the friend thing. Do I accept a person as my friend, will they accept me? Please circle - yes, no, maybe so. My brain hurts.

Of course, I have a My Space Page. Yep. I accidently got one. No, seriously. I wanted to comment on a friend’s page after she emailed me that she had one. I sometimes don’t pay attention to what I am doing and WHAM. I now have a My Space page. Thank goodness for the internet letting me know exactly where my space begins from everyone else’s. I mean how would I ever feel validated as a person if I didn’t have my own space where hundreds of people want to be my friend.

I have 16 friends. One of them is named Tom.

A Walk Through My Head

I wake up, the gook of sleep sticking heavy in the corner of my eyes. I scratch my bum and go for the OJ. My mind already heavy with thought about the dreams I had, my body thirsty for me to break my overnight fast. My being wants to break the silence of what’s been stomping through my head these days, pulling my creative attention.

My blood feels thick as paste this morning as I sit down to practice the writing, so I get up and open the blinds by the fireplace watching the light stream in from the early dawn. The light catches in the blue cloth that hangs over the interior door from sunroom to living room, and then falls on the pile of camping gear like a photo in a Trading Post catalogue.

I run three writing spaces at a time for myself – the blog, the journal, the page. The page is just a fancy pants way of saying I open a word document and write. Since I’ve been on break, each of these mediums has caught only the sparring words that come to head. My creativity feels blunt these days, lost in grocery lists.

So, I begin to write another grocery list – a list of lists, the one for the big camping trip. I write down my stockpile of items to take. I weave in the things I still need to collect. I add things I don’t want to forget – the journal, the colored pencils, and my pens. All the while, thoughts roam in my head…

about the fire pits at festival ran by women in long clothing, body protected from the blazing fires. About watching these women strong and sturdy walk around the pits with knowing ritual of making our meals. About the hundreds of women who will build the small village that will become my home for a week. About the laughter and happiness that permeates my space. About the arduous task of hauling my stuff in while protecting the shoulder. About kicking my feet up after night stage and eating a cookie – I hope the Chief’s Mom makes them for us again! About writing workshops I hope to attend. About working two shifts required by all. About embracing self-love and self-trust, and walking this path.

London

The process begins. Well continues, but here I am starting a new phase. I just got information from the program I am going through to find a job when I move to London. I need to re due my resume and now call it a CV for them, so they can access whether or not they can find me job interviews. I have begun a little of this task, but know I won’t finish it until after I get back from Festival. I’m excited. Don’t get me wrong, all the work this is going to entail is gonna kick my butt! Please be assured that I am going to be writing often about how tired I am when school roles around while I am working through the red tape. I might even cry a little bit. But, in the end, I hope to be going to London!

Woo Hoo. Hoo. Hoo....cough. Now, if everyone reading this could cross their fingers until I arrive in the UK, that would be great. Smiles.

I wanted to take a moment and write down a quote that Paris Parfait passed my way when I was contemplating the decision to move to London this last Winter. I also wanted to pass along a BIG THANK YOU to her for her support and encouragement and I am sure so much more. Without further ado, here is a quote who may help other folks who are thinking of taking a step toward something new and exciting…

Be bold and mighty forces come to your aid. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy; the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.

"Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elemental truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans; that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issue from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would come his way."
- E. H. Murray
Scottish explorer
Himalayan expedition

Got a Cup of Coffee?

I went out last night with a friend to the bar – the dyke bar. She called me earlier in the evening to go, and done with roasting in my own sweaty juices from the heat, I thought the air conditioned residence of beer and women sounded fun. Overall I had to a good time, shooting pool and talking. I suck at pool. I don’t mean modest humility can’t play pool, I mean down right suck with no hope of betterment. Still I like to play. I don’t have to win a game to have a good time. Never have. Other then that, I think I may have agreed to become the liaison for the LGBT faculty and staff group on campus. I have no clue why the theme for me and bars this year is political connections and job offers, but there it is.

I’m sitting in my home this morning with no coffee to be found and the smell of camping gear overriding the senses. I have been slowly pulling everything I need out for the week long camping trip, aka Festival! It’s in a big heap by the door right now, ready to get organized. Ah, the smell of camping gear.

Did I say I have no coffee? I won’t die and besides I have that Continuing Learning Group that meets today where all we do is drink coffee and learn. This is my last month facilitating this group. Because I am bound by my MSW Code of Ethics, I can’t really share much here about the group. I will say, I will miss it very much and plan to stay connected with many a person. Even though my internship ended in spring, I continued to work with this group because A) I believe one should volunteer at something when they can and B) this group did not have a facilitator for the summer.

Hmm. I want a cup of java. Well, that’s my life today. My drama – no coffee!

I Heart August

Ah, August. How I love this month. Let me count the ways…

1) Michigan Women’s Music Festival: I could leave it at that, knowing women who have gone would nod in agreement. For those who have not gone, I will share a few words. Festival is many things to many different people, but the space is all women. At night, under full moon light, I am completely safe. Thousand of women around and I have nothing to worry about. Music plays on three stages throughout the day. There is something about the all women space that breeds hope and a commonality within everyone there. If you forgot something or lost something, there always seems to be someone to help, as though we are one tribe for the week. Its camping in the middle of the woods with women, and the Porta Johns, known here as Porta Janes are clean. Thousands of women and they are clean. Says a lot.

Here is an example of what I am talking about. A dear friend of mine ran the 3 k they do on Saturdays (this space really is a small village). While she was running she got hot and took off her overshirt. She simply threw it on the side of the road knowing it would be there when she got back or would be in lost and found. I believe she reclaimed it at the Lost and Found.

This place, this space gives me the energy and hope that the world can be a better place.

2) Meteor Showers: I love to stay up late at night and watch the meteor showers that come in August.

3) In August, the trees begin to take in their final deep breath of sun and air. August is the moment when the lungs of the earth first dig deep. It’s that moment when you pull the air in, sucking it in. You can smell it. Everything is ripening, everything is green. In some Buddhist traditions, a newby is taught to breath in meditation with the word “buh-do.” Buh is said at the intake, and do at the outtake. The idea is not to concentrate on the whole breath going in, but the strongest point of breath. For some it is in the nose, others the throat, and still others the belly. August is the Buh of meditation.

4) School supplies. It doesn’t matter if I am in school or not. Learned from childhood, August is the month when I love to buy new pens!

5) This is the cusp month that wanes into fall. You can feel the hint of autumn coming around the corner, if you know how.

6) The water is warm at the beach I go to.

7) The county where I grew up has the best County Fair. I use to love going and seeing the animals, eating the food, and riding the rides.

8) The American Legion in my home town has a Corn Roast Picnic. There are these huge grills, made to burn wood that harbors hundreds of pieces of corn. There are games for the kids, soft ball for the adults, and laughter. I do not believe in our war nor the violence is the best solution, but I do honor the men and women who in their minds are being the noblest of characters: honorable, loyal, strong, and yielding of life for the community. I know that our world will not survive until we can find a new way to honor these characteristics. I do love the picnic because it is a communal ritual of honoring those who would die for the community. Its f%$@d up, but I love the picnic.