If I Were a Queen...

I'd be swimming in a deep pool of sparkling, fizzy, club soda-type water right now. I might even blow up an air mattress and sleep in it.

"Of course it is happening inside your head...but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

A migrane. Or is it?
A sugar issue. Or is it?
A result of mourning,
A result of longing,
An idea, an insight, a perspective, a deduction using logic.

Or is it?

It is. If you want it to be.

Right?

A moment of heaven

I live in heaven.

Really, I do. It revolves around the park not far from my house, winds through the streets, and whispers into the homes that surround me. On the last day of the school year an early morning run revealed to me siblings walking together swinging their instruments and backpacks, neighbors catching up over strollers as their dogs ran free in the park (and no body worried), and professors bicycled to work, helmets on their heads and briefcases in their baskets. An evening stroll during the summer passed by neighbors admiring one anothers' flower beds, a park playing host to a little league baseball game and an adult-of-all-ages volleyball game, and the quintessential music of an ice cream truck bringing children and parents pouring out from every direction to line up along the tree-shaded street. The first and last rays of sun light up the center fields of play, while the thick oaks and maples provide both cool respites and a lush border to the park paradise.

I tried to think of anything that would make these moments more perfect; if this is something that others would not want to experience. Neighbors getting together and meeting one another over spontaneous barbeques. Community volunteer projects that elicit hundreds of people who want to help out and have a good time. Sidewalks that will always lead to a warm hello. There are people of all races and interests, and while it may take six planets or six salaries to make such a world possible for all, if it was possible, wouldn't this be a beautiful place?

"Slow down..."

"...you move to fast.
Gotta make the morning last
just
kicking down
the cobble stone,
looking for fun and feeling groovy..."

Well life has once again smacked me upside the head and told me that I was getting a solidly failing grade in my long ago plan to slow down. Fortunately I at least have the good habit of having these crashes--or now officially diagnosed "migraines"--after all the stress is done. So while spending a good six hours throwing up and contemplating if a baseball bat to the head would bring some relief is not exactly my idea of fun, at least it happened after I got back from Europe and was in a country that spoke "American" (then again, if I had been in France, England, or Germany, the health care would have been free. I can't wait to see what kind of a headache this round of medical bills brings forth. oh. joy.).

Must slow down.
Must slow down.

Only now I feel like I'll be letting people down. Of course I realize that my sometimes break-neck speed is unhealthy and is simply of no use to anyone if I end up past out on the floor, but I still wonder; how does everyone else do it? How do they always seem so strong? I wish I had their balance.

Sometimes I feel like and old soul, and other times I feel like I'm still twelve years old, and naive to the tricks of life that the big kids seem to have mastered so effortlessly.

Understanding Local Challenges

Upon seeing a sign at Zingerman's Next Door yesterday stating, "Ask us about our parking ticket specials" (or something like that), C and I did the natural thing, and asked.

In a town notorious for having no parking and handing out tickets on art fair weekend the way politicians in parades hand out candy (there's website interview evidence that even Bill Clinton couldn't find parking), this is a hilarious jab at a local problem.

Bring in one ticket: get half off a Zingerman's sandwich

Bring in two tickets: get an entire Zingerman's sandwich free

Bring in three tickets (and yes, the Zing employee assured us, it has happened), and get one Zingerman's t-shirt, free.

Now that's local sensitivity.

All My Bags Are Packed

I'm ready to go...

You would think that I would be super-excited to be going off on this grand adventure. Strangely though, the closer any trip comes, the less thrilled I am to leave home. Don't get me wrong, I love to travel, see new places, learn new things, challenge my way of thinking, try to understand. But nonetheless, I like being home too. Maybe it's because I am surrounded by so many good people. Why would I ever trade perfect strangers for all of them?

Or maybe it's being of use. Yesterday seemed so quiet and still, and I always prefer to be doing good work with good people. Sure, we goof around and have a good time, but it's nice to think that, in some small way, the day made a difference. But with the holiday it was quiet, and my outlet was the blog. While churning out job applications, this was my way to ramble (and trust me, this procrastination queen will take rambling through several blog posts over writing a coverletter any day of the week).

But now, on to the grand adventure.

Back in a couple weeks. Until then, I'm off to see the wizard.

Fireworks

Once upon a time they were simply beautiful displays of light against a velvety night sky.

Loud noises that only punctuated the brilliance of bright colors.

Now the veil of ignorance--blissful naivete--has been scraped away, never to be perfectly replaced.

Those flashes of light, those bursts of sound, what they symbolize is far too close.
Bombs meant to kill.
Fire meant to destroy.
How many people hear that sound and feel nothing more than icy dread and fear?
How many people see that flash of light and are gone forever?

It is not a light show we should ooh and ahh.
It is not a sound we should applaud and call for more.

Don't they understand what that sound means????

Make it stop. Please.

Clark, I miss you.

The Fourth of July

One of the many wonderful attributes of this little city is it's ability to pull off some amusing small town features while still having the assets of a big city (see: public transportation, museums, parks, etc.). On of my particular favorites is the Ann Arbor Independence Day Parade. Sure, it doesn't have the impressive gleam of John Deer spanning the street, but it is still beautiful. Uniquely American.

I was always one who rarely, rarely shed tears. But recently, hmm. Watching these snapshots of community parade on by, I got a bit choked up. Little slices of heaven.

Politics are always swallowed best with small animals and small children.


Smiles, sparkles, and spangle. And candy.


Truly an event for children.


Ann Arbor will forever be tie-dyed, even in patriotic form.


You've gotta love waste haulers on parade.


A rare sighting of Washtenaw County beauty pageantry.


True Ann Arbor parents. Matching tie-dye, coffee in hand, kids in a state-of-the-art bike trailer/stroller combo.


Men in funny hats speeding around in funny cars. Isn't that the crossing guard guy?


United States Independence Day: Freedom for all religions and cultures, right?


The green, mobile, safety-conscious Ann Arbor family.


Dogs on the campaign trail.


And Peaceworks. It wouldn't be a true Ann Arbor parade without this colorful, active, glimmer of hope.


And finally, the fifes of battle. Tradition. Reminders of the past.

P.S.

What really busts my buttons is that, in writing that open letter, I have a twinge of fear. How dare you again, Mr. Bush. YOU have made me fear my government because I exercise my constitutional right to freedom of speech. Flashes of Guantanamo Bay. The Red Scare. Katrina. I am a United States citizen, and, other than the occasional j-walk, I have committed no crimes (can YOU say the same???). And yet I fear the power that you hold.

How dare you.

A Letter to G.W. Bush

Dear Mr. Bush,

With all undue respect, how dare you. You are not a king. And while Mr. Libby is more of a fall guy--for we all know good and well that the responsibility for his actions extends much higher up the executive ladder--your decision to waive his sentence is despicable. Would you waive the prison sentence of a young, black male who shoplifted from a convenience store because his family has nothing to eat? No one was hurt in that case. Issues of CIA name leakage and torture are far more egregious, but we see eye to eye on so little that I hardly expect you to agree with me on that.

Let me explain something to you. You do not have the right (even if you do have the power) to over-turn the decisions of the other branches of government. On this Fourth of July we celebrate the creation of a system that, at the time, was unique to this country because of its ability to keep itself in check. You see, we have three branches of government here: legislative, executive, and judicial. Any 8th grader can tell you why; to keep any one person or group from having too much power. But apparently that isn't to your liking, and seeing as how you've spent most of your life with the proverbial silver spoon (or rather, silver foot) in your mouth, let me explain something else to you: everyone cannot always get what they want. If we are all--the people of this entire planet, much less the United States--to live together in peace and harmony (some of us look forward to a day when you are out of office and peace can finally rein), we must work toward compromise. In case you haven't heard of the word, that means that everyone makes concessions to reach an end that is satisfactory to all everyone, regardless of the amount of money in their billfold.

I, and the rest of the world, am tired of your arrogance. How many have died because of your inadequacies? How many have suffered because of your stupidity? This is the beginning of the end of that. You've had your playtime. Varsity quarterback, even if you feel like the king of the world, this country, these people, this planet, are pulling the parent card and grounding you. Maybe in a few years maybe you will understand that you do not know everything, and you cannot always get what you want.

We the people, the caretakers of this world, are starting to take peaceful, parental action. We will speak out. We will use the system for it’s brilliant ability to keep you in check, before you do more to destroy its sophisticated scales of justice. It's for your own good, and our own. So try to learn from this situation. The first step to growth is acknowledging that you have much to learn.

Peace Train

(Sidenote: I still can't figure out how to insert links into this here blog (let alone music), so do yourself a favor and look up Cat Stevens', "Peace Train" so that you can listen to it while reading. :-)

Attempted bombings in London. Burning jeeps crashing into airports in Scotland. And the anniversary of the tube explosions on a day when I will be crisscrossing London's city center.

Am I concerned? Maybe a little. But isn't that what these people who try to change the world through violence want? For us to live in fear? For us to limit our actions, and hand over the control of our lives to them?

There can be no peace by initiating violence. If you want to truly change the world, take action in a different way.
Raise voices.
Pick up a shovel.
Give before you expect to receive.

Maybe that's why "Peace Train" often makes me think of AmeriCorps. We were out there getting our hands dirty. Living by limited means. Doing work that provided for others.

Planting trees.
Cleaning rivers.
Talking with community members.

In turn we gained invaluable experience, and, perhaps more importantly, a sense of worth. A sense of hope. If everyone just took a little bit of action. An afternoon. One day in a year. Or what if for one Saturday, everyone who would normally be sitting in Michigan Stadium for four hours instead merged their time, energy, skills, and enthusiasm towards a different goal.

Fixing up house.
Feeding the hungry.
Cleaning up an abandoned lot.

Think of the possibilities.

So I will travel. I will step outside my sheltered house. I will meet people from different cultures. I will try to understand. And I will try to make change that is for the benefit of all.

On a bike in Michigan, or in the tube in London.

They are all a peace train.