30 November 2011

Today

Today I sold my soul to the devil and registered to vote.

I hate political parties. I don't agree with any of them, and checking the box next to one of them seems like betraying my ideology. It's not. It fits right nicely in my ideology of pragmatism. But... damn it, I am not a Republican. I don't want to be a Republican. I disagree with so much of the party platform it's not even funny. But I don't agree with anyone else either, and when in Rome...

Rome, Utah, same thing. Blah.

Can I be a self-proclaimed RINO? I hope so.

Because, for the time being, that's what I am.

~

Today was good, though, in that I successfully gave two presentations, got some happy news, and didn't fall asleep during my liberalism class.

Yeah. The end.

Love always,
Ashley

27 November 2011

Wild Geese

Every so often (pretty regularly, actually) I go on a poetry kick.

You know.

When I start reading Walt Whitman and Maya Angelou and Edgar Allen Poe and Metallica lyrics, and religiously avoid anything Robert Frost or Alfred Tennyson--that is a poetry kick.

I like my poetry rare.

Like steak.

I don't eat steak, but I do eat poetry.

Poetry is best when it is raw, and full of naked emotion. Form, grammar, fancy ideas--none of them can compare to words that capture a heart on paper and preserve it so that others can find it and become a little less alone.

And with poetry kicks, I discover new poems. Here is my latest find, a poem that made me stop and think and reread and find comfort.

Wild Geese
(by Mary Oliver)

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I like that. "Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine."

Anyway...

Yeah. Poetry is good for the soul.

Love always,
Ashley

16 November 2011

Music Wednesday!

Posting has been sparse lately because I'm in the thought stages of a mega-post. A really good one. It's taking awhile, but we'll get there.

On a random side note, I spent yesterday afternoon (when there were any number of things I should have been doing) watching WW2 documentaries with my grandfather. 'Twas awesome. :)

On to the music!


Rihanna - 'Breakin' Dishes'


I will freely admit to having been a Rihanna fan for, like, five years now. I know the words. I sing along. All that. She's just about my only foray into the R&B-pop world, just like Eminem is the only rap worth spending time with. And that preposition hanging there is really bothering me, but I don't want to re-word.

Here's another one, just for fun.


Rihanna - 'Rehab'



Lily Allen - 'Never Gonna Happen'


Sorry. I really couldn't help myself. It's the accordion. I'm got a weakness for accordions in popular music. * Sigh *

Illustration:

Edward Maya - 'Stereo Love'


This used to come on all the time while I was driving, and I'd have to make this awkward little squealing sound and hum along with the accordion part in the chorus. It drove Tall One nuts.

Moving to real music now, after that little dip in auto-tune madness.



Maroon 5 - 'This Love'


Tall One and I can never come to agreement on whether this is a breakup song, a let's-get-back-together song, a I'm-not-letting-you-break-up-with-me-again song, or just one very confused man.

I'm disappointed with Maroon 5's recent work. 'Never Gonna Leave this Bed'? Come on. Talk about a recipe for muscle deterioration and all sorts of icky boils or something. Ug. And then 'Moves Like Jagger'? Ew. Just ew. It's some kind of horrible sell out. I refuse to believe it's true.


The Beatles - 'I Want to Hold Your Hand'


 The Beatles do things that one one else can.


Snow Patrol - 'Set the Fire to the Third Bar'



This song gets majorly stuck in my head. Watch the music video. It's nice. Very artsy.

Only about half of Snow Patrol's stuff is worth listening to. The other half is cliche and boring.

And on that note (hehe), I've got to get to class.

Love always,
Ashley

11 November 2011

Veteran's Day

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
- John Stuart Mill


Thank you, all those who are and have been willing to risk their lives and their safety and their convenience in order to stand for this country.

God Bless,
Ashley

03 November 2011

Feet, Feet, Feet... How Many, Many Feet You Meet

Not quite. Though I do love this book--and the rest of Dr. Seuss--dearly.
Today I am going to talk about feet. Kind of aimlessly, but that's okay. I have a need to avoid thesis statements at all costs this evening.

I have large feet. Not horrendously huge, mind you, but large. Above average.

It runs in the family. My mother, with nines, and my father, with twelves, got together and created me, with tens (well, sometimes they're only 9 1/2 W, but only sometimes, and those are practically impossible to find anyway). Tall One caught up with Dad a while ago and will probably out-pace him him soon, if he hasn't already.

I grew up with small-footed friends. Their feet were always smaller than mine. Their feet are still smaller than mine (there was one friend with bigger feet as we were children, but I think we're about even now). Some friends share shoes, I understand. That seems kind of weird, to me, but even if I had wanted too I couldn't have.

Some people are selfconscious about their feet. Apparently there are all sorts of hangups about how large feet are masculine and small feet are feminine. I don't get that, but whatever. I haven't spent my life trying to be especially feminine, so people out there are free to think whatever they want. I will proudly don my hefty hiking boots (which I purchased from the men's department, by the way, because the women's boots at Walmart were too wimpy for my taste) and clomp around the world. They keep my feet warm. And they can crush things.

As I was growing up, it seemed like my feet always grew in bursts. They were never the same size long enough for me to get used to them. As a result, I was probably the clumsiest person on the block. Actually... that may not entirely be my feet's fault. But I know for certain that approximately 70% of the falling I did was a result of misinterpreting my foot size and tripping over things.

I like my feet. They match the rest of me. I have larger hands than the female average, too. Long arms, long legs... having big feet just seems like it should follow along in there. The only thing I dislike about having big feet is how hard it is to find shoes. Stores either don't carry many styles of size ten women's shoes; or shoes that are perfectly wonderful in, say, a size 6, look awkward in a larger size.

My question is, how do people with small feet function? I use my feet as a balancing system, a way to keep upright, and as a means of locomotion. I'm really just barely succeeding at all those things, too. So how do the small-footed people of the world do it?

~

Anyway, I should probably go home now. Trying to avoid the cold by holing up in the library only serves to make my future journey, at a later and darker time, that much colder. Although... I could stay. The library is open 24 hours. But that would be stupid, and I would get really hungry, and eventually I would need to shower and change my clothes and brush my teeth. No go.

~

Love always,
Ashley

P.S. - Speaking of feet, I dropped a cup of cocoa on one of mine last night. Surprises are fun sometimes, I'm learning. :)