two weeks...

My first day walking on the MSU campus since... since the mass shooting two weeks ago. Their 'spirit rock' has been turned into an impromptu shrine--flowers and offerings everywhere. 

Two weeks is a long time to forgo the walk along the river I love so much. Instead of telling myself I would be safe, I had to tell myself that really, it's not like any place in the U.S. safe--to make myself go back. 

Sirens still provoke a very visceral response no matter where I happen to be--grocery store, piercing studio, home... I imagine this sort of thing takes a while to heal.

Thankfully, it was an uneventful walk down one of my favorite paths. Big A was joking about us doing this walk when we're into our triple digits. (Yes, I didn't do this by myself, I had significant emotional support.)

Pic: MSU 'spirit rock' now with a tent and seating. 

Oh, all the things I did!

I did all the things for myself today. 

There's really no reason why I shouldn't get my hair trimmed during a teaching week, but somehow I always wait for midterm break to do it. So I got that done today. Also, I got my eyebrow piercing replaced (went from the mandatory-introductory barbell to a simple and unobtrusive silver ring). I cleaned the lime-scaled glass panes in the tea garden and puttered around my plants, worked out for more than 15 minutes for once, took a long, indulgent bath, read without watching the clock... It was all glorious.

And I tidied up my jewelry drawer and rearranged all my rings. I always think I want to be the bohemian 'ring lady' with long, witchy hair; but in reality I only wear one at a time. I do like looking at them though.

I'll have to finish up grading and all that in a few hours, but it was so nice to be so expansive in taking care of myself today. 

Pic: My ring collection (and some random lint).

find out

______________________

Now I dream myself as a tree

my desire amnesiac as winter

yet free as a wind in my veins 

breath now a blur of whispers

shadows revisit, quilt surprises

to deposit at my own bare feet 

_______________________

The sermon today (and all February) at UU was about love. But sadly, I spent at least ten minutes fuming in an unlovely, unloving way because I heard the person sitting behind us say to my 15-year-old Nu (masked and dressed in all-black and a hoodie, as always) that if they had shown up like this three years ago, people would be calling the police and they might have been arrested. I think this person was trying to be funny, but it was a weird thing to say to teenager who was there with their very brown mother. I turned around at the end of the service to offer my perspective with "love and respect," but then realized that the person who'd said that to Nu was very old and very stooped and probably a first-time visitor (no name badge, just the "My name is" sticker) so I ended up not saying anything. 

But WTF.

Anytime people mention hoodies as an indication of menace or wrongdoing, it reminds me of what a big deal people made of it when Trayvon Martin was hunted and murdered. And Twitter just reminded me that today is the 11th anniversary of his death. Now I'm mad all over again.

Pic: Baker Woods in the afternoon sunshine.

song of forgetfulness

the birds who live through winter know 
how it is possible to be lonely 
buried in never ending seams of snow 
their small calls lie unanswered

yet

stoic, they tuck distance under each wing

as if for a soft, shapeless journey 

and seeing them lets me dream of spring

begin remembering the way out

ice, ice, Friday

I have to laugh because everyone at work asked how the drive up was, and to be honest--the iffiest part was our very long driveway. We still have crystal trees and a driveway that could be a skating rink. I thought our high of 46 yesterday would melt everything, but I was wrong. 

I also thought for sure that the falling ice--which was SO loud--would take out our roof and that we might lose power and I was wrong on both those counts... I'm happy to be wrong sometimes. 

Book club (Demon Copperhead) got postponed and an after-work hang with girlfriends got canceled. So I got home from work, dropped off At's new bank card (they lost their wallet last week), and hunkered down for an evening with Nu, Scout, and Huck (and Big A on Portal). I made a fish curry; Nu thought it was a stew: po-tay-toe, poh-tah-toe. Then an impromptu song fest with every Friday-themed song we could think of, including this one.

Pic: The backyard trees are sparkly, heavy, and creaky with ice. So pretty and a bit menacing.

OMG/ChatGPT/Canon in D

I took a trip down memory lane earlier this week when I recalled the first time I heard Pachelbel's "Canon in D". 

Then on a whim I sauntered down AI Alley when I asked ChatGPT to write me a poem based on that incident. ChatGPT obliged with the poem on the left. 

It's quite the doggerel. 

Which is why I don't share the moral panic about students using it to cheat on essays and exams. From everything I've seen, ChatGPT seems to tend towards the bland and the banal. I think I'd be able to tell something was off from the odd combination of impeccable grammar and tediously repetitive sentences.

Famous last words as I head off to grade midterm essays and exams...

snippets

Ice storms today and no school for Nu (no school tomorrow either, as a matter of fact). Luckily, Big A was home so Nu got a nice, lazy day at home without having to schlep it to my work. 

Pic: I'm asleep with Scout and Huck on me. I wonder why I'm so serious in sleep.

A Shift

my bed is the place I remember
things I forgot at my desk

although I can't see in the dark

I can still see darkness 

work is a metropolis of clouds

and softest unknowing

I seek out the eye of the storm

and plan to claw it out  

*