this is not who we are.

"Because men with hard faces do violent things, because fanaticism seizes and shrinks minds, is no reason for the rest of us to abandon our song."

mmmmm. That's a quote from this beautiful short story I read entitled This Is Not Who We Are by Naomi Shihab Nye. It's an Arab-American woman's memoir, expressing her grief over the image her culture has impressed on people's minds. Though I am not Middle Eastern, I can see how the people of those countries would feel sorrow for their cultures during these times. Too often we judge an entire country or group of people by their government or the fanatics. We forget about the simple men and women who do not mean any harm, who only want to live their lives in peace. The author states, "I am simply an Arab American in deep need of cultural uplift to balance the ugliness that has cast a deep shadow over our day" . I've provided a link to the full version of the story below.

http://books.google.com/books?id=wKmKh7slk6wC&pg=PA401&lpg=PA401&dq=this+is+not+who+we+are

In other news, I am now officially a creative writing minor. woohoo!

Check it.

Blog #2:

http://cookingwithcats.wordpress.com/

yes yes yes.

I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.

I open my palm and my lifelines look like branches from an Aspen tree,
and there are songbirds perched on the tips of my fingers,
and I wonder if Beethoven held his breath
the first time his fingers touched the keys
the same way a soldier holds his breath
the first time his finger clicks the trigger.
We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.

But my lungs remember
the day my mother took my hand and placed it on her belly
and told me the symphony beneath was my baby sister's heartbeat.
And I knew life would tremble.


This is an excerpt from Andrea Gibson's poem Birthday, For Jen. I can't express how much I love her writing. Just so good.

almost.

"If I could go back
That's the first thing I would do I swear that I would
Do my best to follow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit, a winning stand
A guarantee and not a promise
That I'll never let your love slip from my hands"

-If It's the Beaches, The Avett Brothers

I just love this song so much.
Only 2 more days of classes.....

adorable.

My boyfriend's better than yours because he made this shirt all by his lonesome.

boring.

I went into a gas station the other day and came out with teryaki beef jerky and a grape Kool-aid squeeze it.

Middle America at it's finest.

Also, I bought five books at Half-Price Books this past weekend.
Fall Break in 3 days!

maybe i needed you.

I wish I could go back to the night the fireflies screamed “Joy!” with their bulbous glow. All nine years of me had never seen such a wondrous sight. Hundreds of fireflies hovered in the humid night air, as if they were all perfectly placed and secured to the sky with thin pieces of spider silk. You came and stood next to me, smiling down at my pure, un-jaded happiness.

Where did they all come from, Dad?
I don’t know.
Will they stay forever?
Forever’s a long time baby. They’ll probably be gone tomorrow.

Oh.

You went inside and talked loudly with my mother, but I just couldn’t pull myself away. I stood barefoot in the yard, sticky hands outstretched trying to catch at least one magical baby between my sugarcoated forefinger and thumb. If only I could just keep one for forever. Slowly I treaded across the lawn, feeling every separate blade of grass on the soles of my feet.

Coooome on baby bugs. Just let me hold you for a second.

They didn’t listen. I reached, they flew. I grabbed, they ran. The loud talking inside was growing rapidly in volume and I worried that it might make all my beautiful friends leave.

Please Mr. lightening bug, can I keep you for just a little while? Maybe I need you. Did you ever think about that?

He froze as if my small words and youthful breath had charmed him into submission. I reached forward slowly and held his glowing body between my fingers. Pure joy.

And just as soon as it formed, the bubble of that magic moment was abruptly popped. My friend flew away, startled by the sound of our squeaky screen door slamming shut. Disappointed, I turned and watched You stride rapidly across our porch and down the steps. Your full, distracted footfalls caused a commotion among my miniature flying stars. Slowly they all began to fade, disappear into the surrounding forest of trees. I ran around the yard begging them all not to leave but nothing I said helped. Dirty tearstains on my soiled my cheeks mapped the sorrow of my little heart. I ran to the edge of the driveway and called to the back of your retreating head.

Dad.

You needed to know how devastated I was.

Dad!

Without turning you got into your car. I watched you pull away just like I did every morning you went to work, your car leaving a T shape in the sparkling gravel of our drive. Your bouncing, fading headlights, fireflies in quick retreat. I stood in the same spot where every afternoon I eagerly waited to see your approaching car. Except this time I never got to celebrate your return. You were right- forever is a long time.