A Drivel Runs Through It
Monday, May 29, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Patia Stephens
ENCR 411/Volkman
5/4/06
Final Paper: Influences
When I think of my "poetic influences," what comes immediately to mind is not any particular poet, but rather the sensory world within and around me. Certainly this is true for many other poets, as well. Nature, emotions, friends and loved ones, pets -- these have all been poetic fodder for eons.
Out of lemon flowers
Loosed
On the moonlight, love's
Lashed and insatiable essences,
Sodden with fragrance,
The lemon tree's yellow
Emerges,
The lemons move down
From the tree's planetarium.
-- Pablo Neruda, "A Lemon"
What other poets have given me is the inspiration -- the permission, even -- to fearlessly explore and record these sensory experiences. They have given me the courage to experiment with words, with language, with random thoughts and associations. They have allowed me to break free from the staid old beginning-middle-end, the research paper, the inverted pyramid and the nut graf. Poetry, particularly freeform poetry, is like a brisk breeze coming out of the east. Unexpected. Refreshing.
I am the woman whose flesh
Does not move when she walks,
The nipple-less,
The bloodless, sweatless woman
Who cries copious tears from the pressure
Of all other prohibited secretions.
-- Barbara Kingsolver, "Reveille"
When I was in the seventh grade at Capitola Junior High, a teacher from a university program called California Poets in the Schools came to my English class and presented a week-long session on poetry. What liberation! He gave us assignments to write about colors, feelings -- about things that mattered to a 12-year-old girl like me. Although I was already passionate about reading and talented at writing, poetry captured my imagination. It became a companion and outlet for me during my tumultuous teenage years. I filled notebook after notebook with flowery, tortured poems that I never shared with anyone. Then -- during a chaotic transition from boarding school to the real world, all my notebooks were lost. I never knew where they went. Hopefully, the trash.
Never has your Buick
Found this forward a gear.
-- Richard Hugo
When, at age 17, I began working full time, I left poetry behind. I still sometimes scribbled two- or three-line stanzas in my notebooks and on work orders, but poetry as a practice was forgotten, abandoned. I did not see its relevance to my life. And I rarely understood the poetry I read.
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd advertise -- you know!
-- Emily Dickinson, 288
But as my confidence in writing has blossomed -- as I earned a bachelor's degree 15 years after graduating from high school and then enrolled in a graduate creative writing program -- poetry has become important once again. I've had the leisure to study Shakespeare, Dickinson, Whitman -- to learn how to read a poem. I've rekindled a love of words apart from necessity and structure. I also saw how poetry would enrich the "real" writing I did; how beauty was as important as meaning. I learned to savor the sounds and images of a poem, even if I didn't understand it.
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath?
-- Shakespeare, Sonnet 99
I like to think that now, or at least, when I'm finished with school, I'll take the time to curl up in a corner of the sofa with a book of poetry, spending a quiet hour with words of beauty, profundity or even absurdity. Perhaps I'll even pick up the pen and write my own, beautiful, profound, absurd poems.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
This story from today's Seattle Post-Intelligencer, about high levels of chemicals found in 10 volunteers, deserves attention: We're walking, talking toxic waste dumps. It is truly alarming, although it doesn't go much into the health effects that these chemicals can cause. But I have long suspected that everyday chemicals are causing or contributing to many of our modern health problems.
I've been reading lately about the chemicals that are in our food and beauty products. One book in particular, "The Truth About Beauty" by Kat James, has become somewhat of a bible for me. For several months I've been reading and re-reading it, underlining and making notes, and slowly trying to incorporate some of its suggestions. I'm eating less sugar and more organic foods. I'm reading the labels on my lotions and potions (and being shocked). Kat's thesis -- based on her personal experience with physical transformation (like dropping 10 dress sizes) -- is that true beauty comes from health. And health comes from taking exquisite care of our bodies with real foods and genuine beauty products.I'm not yet such an extremist that I'm willing to give up my coffee or my Olay Daily Facials, but I am becoming more aware that we are surrounded -- and infiltrated -- by questionable chemicals every day.
Monday, May 22, 2006
I'm having garlic-butter-sauteed crimini and shittake mushrooms with fried polenta for dinner. Mmmm, crispy-fried goodness. YEAH.
~
Summer thunderstorms have arrived early. Lightning, thunder -- Montana's sky sure knows how to throw a party.
~
Go look at this picture and this one. They are the cutest baby bunnies EVER.
~
I've got a hitch in my git-along. Fortunately, though, the kink in my back is more annoying than painful. I feel like it would go away if I could either find someone to step on it, or hang upside down on an inversion table.
~
I spent the day writing a story about the Montana Sedition Project and resulting pardons given a few weeks ago to 78 people convicted of seditious speech during 1918-19. Free speech -- it's a good thing.
~
I'm going to buy the Dixie Chicks' new album just because.
~
Finally, thank you to my readers, all three of them, for reminding me that gray is boring and being myself is always just right.
~
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
I spend a lot of time worrying that I'm either too much or not enough. Do you know what I mean? I worry that I'm doing, working, giving too much -- or not enough. That I'm sleeping, thinking, talking too much, or not enough. That I'm too loud, or too quiet. That I'm too forward, or too shy. There is a fine line between:
- tenacious/stubborn
- smart/know-it-all
- honest/insensitive
- assertive/aggressive
- strong/heartless
- compassionate/weak
- helpful/controlling
- persistent/obsessive
- unique/weird
- independent/lonely
- funny/mean
- serious/boring
- playful/obnoxious
- relaxed/lazy
- revealing/embarrassing
- purposeful/relentless
- polite/fake
- cautious/paranoid.
Can't I ever be just right? Neither too much nor too little, but enough?
Balance. Shades of grey, rather than black or white. This is my goal.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Goodness, is it ever spring.
I was backing out of the garage last week when my girl cat, Luna, came trotting up the driveway with a creature about one-fourth her size in her mouth. It was a baby bunny from our local cottontail colony.
I stopped the car. Rushed to rescue the poor darling, whom Luna bore proudly up to me in her jaws. I shouted, she dropped it, it ran, she chased it, I scooped it up.
It didn't appear to have any obvious injuries, but it did have fleas. Quite a few, to my surprise. I had no idea we had fleas like that around here. Now I'm amazed Tango and Luna don't have them.
Anyway, bringing the baby bunny inside was out of the question. I consulted with my landlords, who reminisced about a period of Hitchcock-esque rabbit overpopulation. I held the little creature snugly against my chest, stroked its silky head with my other hand. I know nature is red in tooth and claw, but I'm a wimp.
I ended up releasing the bunny under a woodpile, where it scurried into a dark recess while the cats lolled about, despite my attempts to shoo them away. I hope it made it.
~
On Sunday I packed a blanket and a book and my camera and went off in search of an apple tree to lie under. Luna decided to join me. She likes coming along on my walks, stopping occasionally to roll in the dirt, then trailblazing, her tail bushing up with nerves. I call her my Adventure Girl.
We came to the apple tree and I quickly saw that its gnarled branches held not one but two bird's nests -- one a magpie's ragtag collection of branches, the other a regular bird's nest. There was a broken eggshell on the ground, some droppings and feathers. I didn't see or hear any baby birds, but Luna honed in on the nests like a pointer. When she tried to climb the tree, I firmly discouraged her. Trying to distract her, I kept walking down the gully a ways until I found a shady, grassy bank to spread my blanket on, and settled in with my book.
Luna dinked around for a while, came over for pets, flopped down in the grass, wandered off further down the gully. I was nose-deep in my book and blissed out on sunshine and relaxation when Luna came galloping back up the gully full-bore -- thundering past me like a racehorse -- propelling herself up, up, up into the branches of the apple tree. I shouted, lunged off the blanket, ran barefoot to save the baby birds from my bloodthirsty cat. Magpies shrieked. Luna abandoned the tree. I lectured her sternly, then returned to my book.
Twenty minutes later, she did it again. Running flat out, paws audibly thumping on the ground, launching herself into the tree branches while I again leapt up and hazed her from the tree.
She's too damn sweet to stay mad at.
After a while, we headed back home, giving wide berth to a skunk obliviously nosing at something in the weeds. It had a gorgeous tail.
That afternoon I was looking out my window when Tango came trotting around the corner with a vole in its mouth. I have no problem with that. When it comes to my cats killing rodents, the more the merrier, as far as I'm concerned.
The next morning, Luna came trotting around the same corner with a bird in her mouth. A small, brown-flecked songbird. Limp. Clearly dead. I found shredded feathers later. My heart is still sorrowful.
They can't help themselves. Cats hunt for sport. They're wired for it. Being well-fed doesn't matter. Bells don't seem to help. And my cats would take to indoor confinement about as well as I would.
They are spayed and neutered; I can do that much.
What else can I do?
~
I'm a hypocrite, I admit it. I love animals, but I also love meat. Oh, God. Let's not have this discussion right now.
~
I've seen several very pregnant does in the past week or so. They'll be having their fawns any time now. A co-worker mentioned that he tries to keep his dogs leashed during their spring walks for this reason.
Also, I saw a news release recently from Fish, Wildlife and Parks reminding us that newborn fawns are often hidden away while their mothers forage, and we should just leave them be.
~
Spring. Life. The endless cycle.
We do what we can.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Dear Verizon Wireless,
I am extremely disturbed and dismayed that Verizon sold my telephone records to the National Security Agency. Not only did you violate my privacy, you profited from it. I do not appreciate being spied on by my government and betrayed by those I pay for a service. It is unethical, unconstitutional and un-American.
Patia Stephens
~
Dear Patia Stephens,
Thank you for contacting Verizon Wireless through our website. I appreciate your inquiry regarding your service. My name is Tomys, and I am happy to assist you today.
We appreciate that the USA Today article and other reports about the possibility that the NSA is able to analyze local call data records is causing concern. Please be assured that Verizon Wireless places the highest value on protecting the privacy of our customers. [Does this mean they charged A LOT?] Anything to do with the NSA is of course highly classified, so we can't comment on whether or not the news article causing concern is even accurate. [We aren't saying we did, and we aren't saying we didn't.] But we can say that, to the extent that we cooperate with government authorities, we are confident that we are complying with all applicable statutes. [The Bush administration is on OUR side.] We appreciate the continuing opportunity to provide you with service.
We appreciate you taking the time to contact us, and thank you for choosing Verizon Wireless. Should you have additional questions or concerns, please reply to this e-mail.
Sincerely,
Tomys
Verizon Wireless
Customer Service
"We never stop working for you!"
[Except when we're working for the federal government.]
Here's another photo from my trip to Butte in February. This is the Pekin Noodle Parlor. Often called "Butte, America," the Mining City once had a large Chinese population.
~
I've enjoyed a spectacularly lazy day.
B l i s s.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
I'm still working on my 25-page paper. It's currently 28 pages long ... single-spaced. I had to get an extension for it, something I don't believe I've ever done before. But my teacher offered, and several of my classmates have, so I'm trying not to beat myself up over it.
In any case, it WILL be done and handed in tomorrow afternoon.
Then I will treat my aching body -- which has been planted in a chair for the better part of the past seven days -- to a massage.
And then I will curl up with the remote control and purely frivolous entertainment until my brain is no longer swimming with phrases like "cultural hegemony," "strategic deference," "the male gaze" and "to-be-looked-at-ness."
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
I and my co-workers have just started a blog.
Switchbacks will provide a bird's-eye view of news and events at UM. It was named (by moi, thank you) in honor of the 13 switchbacks on Mount Sentinel's M Trail, and will feature interesting campus-related news, weekly event highlights, pertinent campus information and the amazingly profound insights of my colleagues.Seriously. My co-workers are great people with truly interesting things to say about life at UM and beyond. Three of them have made their very first blog posts ever in the past week. It would be really great if some of you would stop by, and maybe leave a comment, so they know their efforts haven't been in vain.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Monday, May 08, 2006
In plastic letters stuck to an older Jeep Cherokee in Missoula:
SUV IS SHORT FOR FAKE JEEP
Just a quickie ...
- I was awake till nearly dawn listening to things go bump in the night. Not sure, but I think a herd of wild horses went through.
- In a burst of sunshine and optimism, Saturday morning I turned off my heater's pilot light and covered it with a pretty white tablecloth. It's been freezing ever since.
- For the past several days I have been hard at work on my cultural studies final paper. It's gigantic and my Wednesday deadline looms, but the topic is fascinating and I'm having a good time.
- I've got summer on the brain.
- Luna, come home!
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
