Sunday Scribblings: Astrology

I don’t know if astrology is legit. I mean, we just discovered a new dwarf planet, Eris, in our solar system. Doesn’t this mean the signs are off a little bit? Will people suddenly be born under the sign of Eris, and what will there traits be like?

With that said, I am under the sign of Cancer. Yes, I am a cancerian. In fact, my birthday is less than 15 days away….woot! Most of the traits of a cancer do not reflect my personality. I’m not all about your needs only. I don’t go around trying to complete others with my nurturing warmth. Don’t get me wrong, I care about folks, and my friends are the most important, but there is something about the care giver role of the Cancer that doesn’t jive with me. Yes, I said jive. My motto is, I don’t want save the world, but I will help it save itself.

What does fit is I am a person who needs to carry my home on my back. Where ever I live, my home needs to feel safe, secure, and a nurturing space. For myself and anyone who enters. I also am a freak for details for this move to London. I have spent months now trying to decide what needs to come with me because even on the road, when my home becomes the bags I carry with me, I need to know security, safety, and nurture are what’s inside those bags.

This has been beneficial. Moving across the sea has forced me into a predicament where I am downsizing what I need to feel these things. I find I can live without a lot of things…for now.

So what’s in my bag?

Nothing spectacular really. Clothes, necessities, and shoes. There is also the journal, the cameras, the pens, and chap stick. Don’t ask. What is not in my bag is worry, regret, fear, and apparently liquids over 3 ounces.

As for the astrology in it all. I like this notion of carrying my home, and creating a home that will carry me. As for the rest, I may or may not reflect the sign, but then again I can just blame it on the fact that they forgot to factor in Eris.

Happy Summer Solstice

I’m sitting down to finally write that paper for a seminar I took. Little did I know that a one day class would have a 7 page paper attached to it. I didn’t plan for it. Didn’t plan for even making an effort here. So, of course, I am spending time listening to music, utube’n, and avoiding any sense of effort towards the paper. Maybe in a little while, aye.

I thought I could spend some time writing while I put off the paper. Much is happening, but little to report. I am currently babysitting a cat for a friend. For about 2 months I have this obnoxiously cute cat living in my home. I have to admit, she’s just what I needed – a little furry friend to hang with before I move. I’m trying not to get too attached. Unfortunately, she has such a wonderful personality, its hard to not fall in love with daily. For example, this morning she woke me with a constant licking of my noise while simultaneously putting a paw on my chest. I pushed her off in a groggy state telling her I didn’t need CPR, I was asleep not dead! She and I then proceeded to head into the kitchen for our normal routine, food for her and the Synthroid for me. She gorges down her food while I begin the coffee.

This is the point in the morning, after she burps and does her morning constitution that she proceeds to walk between my feet until I trip and fall. I know she’s just a kitty who needs some love’n, but I need a moment to stretch and remember what day it is, who am I, and what are my plans for the day. So, what I usually do is grab one of many toys I bought the little puss and toss it; she goes running after it while I get a moments peace to orient myself X4. The thing is she bores with the toys easily. A run and a bat and she’s back at my feet trying to topple me over. Please note, all the petting in the world doesn’t stop her need to entangle herself in my calves.

This morning, I finally found the one toy that she will play with longer then a pat. A tampon. Yes, that’s right. A new, still in the wrapper tampon. The cat can’t get enough of this fun. I discovered this new toy while doing my own constitution one morning. I was in the bathroom, grabbing my own fun-time tampon (GO BLOATED IRRITABILITY!) and dropped one on the floor. Now, Ms. Kitty is not allowed in the bathroom when I pee. It’s a small space and though I love our closeness, I get tired of holding her while peeing because she MUST be on my lap in the bathroom. It’s not hygienic, people! So, while I am grabbing the tampon out of the box, one falls to the floor, and no sooner does it hit the ground then Ms. Puss’s paw comes flying under the door sntaching the thing like it was just the prey she was waiting for. I suddenly felt like I was myself prey being watched under the door. Of course, I had to bend down and stare. And there she was, crotched under the door like some big scary Rapture in that movie, eyes all wild and extended claws, licking her lips at her babysitter. The only thing between me and death, besides the door, was that tampon she was straddling as if to smoother it with her huntress body.

This morning, needing some vertical peace and quiet, I decided to lob that tampon in the air and like some bird she just NEEDS to have, Ms. Puss hightails it with supersonic speed, pouncing on it with sheer glory. For at least a half hour, I heard her batting the hell out of the thing while I drank my coffee. I’m thinking of getting her her own box.

~GoGo

What is your favorite color? My Ode to Life

So, I am a childless woman. Right now, no kids. No, this is not a long winded whine complete with boo hoos and poor me(s). I really don’t mind being childless at the moment. In fact, the whole childlessness makes it real easy to pick up and move to London. I am noting my current childless existence because I myself am surprised by the number of kids who are in my life. Yes, for a no kid gyrl, I certainly get a bunch of calls and letters from this developmentally influx group. And you know what, I love this. I have my nephew, my little bo, and my cousin, all around the same age calling me or writing me. My friends in North Carolina keep me posted about their little one – she’s walking! And every-so-often, I hear about this 6-year-old out in the world.

I never expected kids to be in my life. Just didn’t. I don’t know why. I like being an adult in these kids’ lives. Okay, sometimes I like being a kid with these kids or what I like to call an extension to childhood. It’s nice.

Recently, one of these wonderful pre-adults asked me some questions. Ironically, the whole conversation felt like a funny forward sent out on email, except they were the usual questions one expects from kids. Questions were asked like what is your favorite food; do you prefer cats over dogs; and if you were a sound what would it be? (Peas, cat&dog, Bflat). One question that really made me think was “what is my favorite color?” Now, for years, since I can remember my favorite color has been red. It’s the color of hearts, the shade of love, and strawberries are red. These would have been my answers at age six. Fast forward to 30 years old and I found myself wondering if it was still true. See, there is so much more then red out there. Blue is a wonderful color, relaxing and reminds me of the word authentic. It also brings out my eyes. Orange is a sensual, warm color that just feels confident, assured, and in harmony. Purple is wise, far reaching and reminds me of the word twilight, plum, peace. Green is everywhere. She emphasizes life in breath, the whimsical in everyday, and it also brings out a nice shade in my eyes. Yellow is a surprise every time. It just is.

So, when the little one asked me what my favorite color was, I wondered which of these were true. By the way, I wasn’t allowed to answer all colors. But you know what, after thinking about it. I realized red is still my favorite color. Why? Because out of all the colors, it’s always been there for me. When I was wee, I had a head injury where a ho had slit my forehead. Um, that was a garden ho. I can remember being confused, disoriented and just plain out of it! What I also remember is the red bleeding from me was so beautiful. It was rich and pure, and life itself. Which, if we think about it, is not such a good thing. I felt at peace and was very distracted by the color. I realized out of all the colors out there, red has always had by back. Every time something bad happens and I bleed, I am okay, because I’m bleeding my favorite color. :-).

That’s why red is my favorite color. And here, read this poem, because it also explains my love for red.

This probably explains why kids like to talk to me too.

~GoGo

When You Have Nothing Else to Write About...

I was waiting for a friend of mine to come out of the Post Office in Durham and decided to take pictures of some municipal workers taking down a lamp post...

...I believe they were trying to change the light bulb.

Badumpbump.

~GoGo

Portmanteaus

A fun find. While randomly sufing the wiktionary, I came across the pormanteaus page. A portmanteaus is defined as "A word formed which combines the meaning of two words (or, rarely, more than two words) by combining the words, usually, but not always, by adjoining the first part of one word and the last part of the other, the adjoining parts often having a common vowel."

My favorites thus far are:
Dykon
Tangelo
& smaze.

I intend to use them in my writing very soon.

~GoGo

Week 1: Post Graduation

I just finished reading Dooce. I really enjoy reading her monthly newsletters to her daughter. I always get this warm feeling building inside me only to burst out in wetness crowding around my eyelids. Love is a beautiful thing. I've decided to write my mum for Mother's Day and its going to be titled Mom's Newsletter: Month 359.

Life post graduation has been an interesting ride. I have been staying up late watching sitcoms and reading books (that's the non-textbook version). Though I still have one class this summer, I finally feel done with the fast paced life of grad school. I also am confronting my uptightness with my life path…or rather has fondly been called my anal attentive. Yes, it is different than anal retentive. See, with the exception of going to Kalamazoo to see my Aunt in the hospital, which I will write about in a minute, I have woken at the butt crack of dawn only to sit in front of the tele complete with my cup of Joe and nasty messed up hair until noon. Sometimes I shift between butt cheeks during the course of the morning, but overall, I just sit and watch shows like Sylvia Brown on Montel, Different World, The View until I head out into the world to "do things". I have been silently beating myself up for doing nothing...distracting myself from Sylvia predicting that yet another woman is gonna find a man. I should be cleaning the house, going for a run, working out, etc.

I havealso been doing stuff with friends. It’s nice to play, talk, and discuss everything other then school stuff. Though I realize the majority of my friends and I are pretty conscientious people, so the conversation inevitably returns to politics, policies, world news, and debates regarding the practicality of commuting by bike and bus. I say very. Anyway, many of the people I know are doing the exact same thing I am – randomly moving their butt cheeks in order to avoid bed sores. What a relief. The moment I realized this, I felt this huge anal part of myself finally let go and fart. Whew. Goodbye internal commentary while I am contentedly lazy for a moment. Of course, I also realized I am doing a good number of things in my days already without all this self-flagellation. Funny how that works.

Today I spent the afternoon downloading photos for classmates. I kept promising folks pics I had taken at various function throughout this semester and after my third email from a friend who pretty much promised to disown me if I didn’t follow through, I put it on the schedule to send them out. This was an ardous task complete with sitting on my butt and rotating cheeks.

Um, what else? I researched Hypothyroidism. I have been diagnosed with it this week. I’ve known for some time I probably had it. Not because I have achieved a healthy internal dialogue with my body. Please. I’m still working on that. My Mom has been warning me for some time now that I am just like her and like her I should get checked for thyroid problems. I’ve seen the symptoms occurring during school and wasn’t sure if they were normal grad school stress or the Thyroid, so I got it checked out. I guess in a way I am listening to myself. I just have to let go of the idea that I should be able to self-diagnose as though right next to my anal attentive farter is this internal bioscanner or something.

I wish I had an internal bioscanner.

My mom and I spent last night chatting about my new medication, the tests, and how I am so much like her. I held my hands over the phone and sang “LaLaLa” over the latter part of the conversation. She also told me “I told you so” in various and rather creative ways throughout the conversation. I do love my Mom and she loves me. We've agreed I can fight her on the notion I am like her until I have successfully given her grandchildren AND built a extention to my home all her own.

I am now about to go back to Kalamazoo to see my Aunt. She has made it out of critical condition when only a few days ago the docs were preparing her daughters for the worst. My aunt got into a car accident, broke her ankle and demolished her car only for the docs to realize she had a more serious bowl obstruction. Her car accident, a very mangling experience I was told, saved her life. When I saw her earlier this week, I thought I was going to say goodbye to my third person this year only to find she had woken up and was breathing on her own. Wow! I went down to see my cousins too, worried about them, only to see two sassy stubborn women who knew life can be complicated. Within an hour of being there we were laughing. We even shared stories about our grandmother, the matriarch, and how perhaps this summer we should finally have a family reunion to honor her before I head out to London. We also cried, mourning the fear of my aunt dying.

Well, this is my life. Week 1 post graduation.

Remember to laugh, cry, and get your anal attentive side to fart once and a while.

Until next week,

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

~GoGo

Check List to Graduation

Check List:

1 Support Group (CHECK)

3 days left of internship (CHECK)



1 Graduation gown to purchase (CHECK)
1 Presentation regarding internship (CHECK)
1 Learning Agreement Assessment to write (CHECK)
3 dishes to make for the last day of classes (CHECK)
1 RFP Paper for the psuedo program development course (I honestly cannot remember what RFP stands for, not a good sign) (CHECK)
5 phone calls to return regarding how stressed we all are (CHECK)
1 Relay for Life volunteer experience (CHECK)
1 Induction ceremony for Phi Alpha (CHECK)
1 Exeriental Learning Paper (CHECK)
1 Policy Analysis Paper regarding Medicare Part D Drug Negotiations (CHECK)
Make a list (CHECK)

and a partridge in a pair tree....

In short, I want it to be the end of next week! It's getting closer

Excuse me, I am now going to scream! boi, did that feel good.

Smiles ~GoGo

Count me down, but not out

I just passed the one month marker toward graduating. Yes, that’s right this GoGo’s going to be graduating May 4th. I am very excited, albeit tired at this moment. It’s a double edge date. On one edge, all nice and shiney is the symbolic finality of this 2 year program (i.e., graduation ceremonies). I have worked hard (internship, school, work – oh my!) and cannot believe the end is so near. On the other edge, all sharp and pointy, it’s a countdown date for all the final projects due, forms to submit and the cap and gown to buy. In other words, every day toward that date brings me closer to another deadline.

I find it ironic because last year I totally made fun of my friend The Chief (all Hail), who waited till the last minute to purchase her own cap and gown. Not in a bad way, but most definitely had a laugh on her account. Hey now, her gyrlfriend, Driftwood, laughed with me. The poetic justice in this is I too find myself pushing the envelope in purchasing the thing. Yeah. Let Go and Let Karma I always say. ;)

Anywho, I wanted to publicly state I am aware the cap and gown is SOO a last minute buy.

Here I am nearing the end of what really was the primary relationship I had to this blog - school. My experiences are coming to an end. I began this blog as I started school. I wonder, will I continue my residence in blogville after I graduate? I still don’t know. I am no Dooce, no Twitches, no Daring To Write. What I am is a little bummed out at this moment. I want to write the reflections and life stories as I countdown to graduation, EXCEPT currently the pointy side of my countdown is keeping me a little distracted.

You know, the more I think about it, this GoGo feels misinformed by faculty who told us the first semester was the hardest but failed to mention the last semester is the busiest. I'm just saying a little "Dude, you're screwed" would have been helpful.

Smiles.

Ah well. If I am not heard from this month, know that I am well and heading toward another finish line…Thee finish line.

The Ironman of finish lines.

As Always With a Smile and a Laugh,

GoGo

pulp nonfiction

Thinking of my day...my week as it’s almost done, I wonder what words I’m gonna share. Do I write about the two papers finished? The clutter that spins out of control all around me, as I move from notes to book, book to computer, then back to the notes again. Moving tricky fingers in the chaos to find exactly what I was looking for. It wasn’t until I was done did I realize I had created a spiral of organization unfolding around me. It made sense at the time, anyway.

Do I write about my favorite coffee cup keeping me company as I typed?

I heart U.

Do I write about the squirrel who greeted me when I went to the library?

Having gone out into the day after finishing the papers to print the damn things at the University library, I decided I could stop a minute – the day ever-so beautiful and requiring enjoyment. I sat near the banks of the river and found a friendly pair of squirrels checking me out. One came so close; he touched my finger, sniffing for something good. Docile from generations of students passing along a grain bar, p0p tart, or the casual cracker stuck in a bag, these buggers are all up in your business, when given a chance. I didn’t have a thing for the little one, having checked every crevice of my bag; I was sourly disappointed that I didn’t even have a bag of almonds. Not for the squirrel, at that point I realized I was hungry myself. I spent the rest of my

springtime sit in the sun watching the furry little thing dig up nuts and eat them in front of me. Imagine! Didn’t even share.

Or do I write about the bike trip? I promised this self a daily ride, no matter the deeds to be done. I hiked/biked because the river’s flooded in patches. I carry my bike up hills and over railroad tracks instead of riding the underbelly now flooded by water. Then came across a bridge decaying into rust, or should I say the residuals of a bridge, the road peeling up from cracks in the cement, only the infrastructure remains solid.

Solid Steel, weathered skin a rusted umber. Good ride.

Or perhaps I should write about going to the bookstore to check out a few titles? One clerk was checking to see if they had a particular book for me, while I overheard a conversation between two other clerks. Planning a bike trip across the US, they are looking at a road map. One of them decided to pop quiz the other guy on the State Capitals. I was engrossed.

“What’s that Capitol of Georgia?” I look at his counterpart as he slurs out letters “SSSsaaavvaa…no…Dddduuurrr…”

Durham, I was there recently, but not the capitol. I imagine this five year old kid I know who would probably pop it out.

“Atlanta!” The guy goes on to another State; he pauses to look for a really good one...a stumper State. The clerk waiting on me was watching the duo too. We just kind of stopped and listened engrossed in the whole affair. Then back to the book I was looking for and off I went.

Ah, moments.

Benign stories amongst the busy chatter, life is a layered experience. I do enjoy it.

Excuse me, I have a presentation to work on…

~GoGo

drama and porn

seven posts in February. will people stop reading? have I lost my mojo for this page?

no, just busy....finished the CV for London. Well, until I do something else to be added. Watched Season 3 of the L-Word - hey I'm a single lesbian over my head in an MSW program with no time to date, at least that is what the last gyrl told me...I need lesbian drama and porn. Finished 2 papers and turned them in, prepared a presentation for upcoming events, and bought new socks. That's just a taste of my week. I do plan to go to the beach on Sunday after my quaker meeting. I need nature and the sunset over the Great Lake. That or a dinner and a movie with some friends.

Blah. Bad post, sorry.

Conversation #442: Why Pi is infinite

Prologue:

Thoughts swaying with the music, words churn in my stomach, turning into something to say. Or perhaps this is just lunch digesting.

My life feels like a Picasso Painting. My life is bits and pieces scattered all over the canvas and it’s the color of me that pulls it all together.
~~~~

Act I: Two Stubborn Women Dancing -
We meet our heroine in the middle of it all.

GoGo: I’ll be there on Thursday morning, around 9am.

Mom: Are you sure, its really bad weather and I don’t want my baby to get hurt.

GoGo: (What am I suckling from your nipple still! I do not say this, I think it.) I’ve been driving in bad weather for years, Mom. I know how to slow down and scrape the windows. You are aware your baby is 30-years-old. I would prefer to not be called your baby, Mom.

Mom: You will always be my baby. I can’t help but worry.

GoGo: Thank you for birthing me and for teaching me the word Vagina instead of Woowoo. Thank you for raising me and feeding me, but Mom, I need you to see I am an adult now. I appreciate your worry, but I really don’t appreciate being called your baby.

Mom: I know you’re a beautiful woman. You’re very smart and you can make your own decisions, but you will always be my baby.

GoGo: I need you to listen to me. I need you to stop calling me your baby. I am not in diapers. I am not suckling from your breast. I am not going goo goo and gaa gaa. If you see I am a beautiful woman then I need you to show it by stop calling me your baby.

Mom: You will always be my baby.

At this point in the conversation, I am angry. I feel little and powerless and just want to call the whole damn thing off. I want to run to my teacher and tell her this was the most asinine assignment I ever had. I want to scream because I feel so unheard, so invisible, so isolated and I want to tell my Mother if she doesn’t listen I’ll never talk to her again. In short, I want to be passive aggressive and write condesending things about her on my blog. I have lost my voice, my composure, my direction. Then I remember something from class.

GoGo: How would you feel if Grandma called you her little baby?

Mom: I wish she would. I was an adult before I ate solid food. I was never her baby.

GoGo: I’m sorry you weren’t able to be a little girl. It seems important for you to be the parent you never had.

Mom: Yes.

GoGo: I need you to be a parent to a 30-year-old woman, Mom.

Mom: You’re still my baby.

Long pause.

GoGo: Fine, you're paying for my gas then.

Mom: Deal, I'll even throw in breakfast.

GoGo: I'm not wearing a bib.

Mom: Of course not, you're a 30-year-old woman.

The Question: a parody

Mother: Saw X at w*l-mart

In my home town W*l-mart seems to be the popular place to see people. Its not just my parents either. Friends will call me up and say, "Hey, I saw your parents at w*l-mart. I don’t promote the place, I’m just stating an observation.

GoGo: Yeah, how’s she doing?

Mother: Her partner and her are having a commitment ceremony.

Since I have left my home town, a good number of my friends have turned out to be queer, suspected queer, or divorcing someone who is queer. None of us mentioned even the idea we might be gay to one another while we were growing up. I suspect the high number of folks now coming out has something to do with the water.

GoGo: Wow! That’s wonderful.

I am very impressed my Mother knew the words partner and commitment ceremony.

Mother: [GoGo with a y], you know your father and I are very proud of you and love you very much.

GoGo: Thanks, Mom. That really means a lot for me to hear.

Mother: [GoGo with a y], can I ask you a question?

Does your mother have the power to turn your insides into jelly, and make you feel like your 3-year-old instantly, or turn a day full of great accomplishments into the most depressing day ever by asking you one simple question?

GoGo: Is this the question you have been banned to ever ask me, even if it had the potential to save the world from destruction? Is this the question that I promised I would tell you about if it were happening? Is this the question that ends with me running to the fridge and suckling my sorrow with too much food? Is this THAT question, Mom?

Mother: A simple ‘No’ would have sufficed.