Hello, everyone. Apparently, my mention of the wondrous Tuvan throat singing on my profile has aroused curiosity. Since several people have requested that I post a sample of this fabulous singing on my blog, I have tracked down a video of a Tuvan throat singer, Kongar-ol Ondar, who appeared on The David Letterman Show.
The Back Tuva Future cd first introduced me to this fascinating art form after I stumbled upon it in the library. I liked it so much I purchased the cd for myself to the annoyance of my sister, who for some odd reason does not share my passion. Perhaps I'm just weird, but when I listen to Ondar sing, I can't help but feel that he is celebrating life. His music invites me to partake of the joy he finds in the world around him.
Anyway, whether you like it or not, you have to admit it's pretty interesting. After all, I bet you can't sing four notes at the same time! I sure can't, that's for sure.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Hippopotami
Hello, everyone. This is another piece I did in creative writing. It was part of our creative nonfiction unit. The prompt was to write about an object that says something about myself. I wasn't too fond of this piece, actually, but my class liked it, so here it is.
It was her pride that attracted my attention that day at the zoo. Her grin lured me away from the stuffed lions and quirky key chains. My mom chuckled over my selection, but I bought her anyway. At a time when my own body made me uncomfortable, her attitude inspired me. As she relaxes on my dresser, her skin drapes over her feet and bulges out from between them. And yet, she holds her head high. Recognizing such confidence as a possibility, I felt my sense of guilt diminishing when I indulged in an occasional cookie.
My hippopotamus sports a hide of stone which cools my skin but brightens my mood. Enjoying a strong bond with gravity, she will not budge for just anyone. She is firm, but her smile drives away any shred of annoyance. If only all role models stood—or sat—so steadfast! I imagine her sinking down for a rest after a long day of rolling in the mud and munching grass on the banks of the Zambezi. Perhaps her life wants glamour, but I envy her contentment. I budge a little less, now, as I enjoy my own unglamorous existence.
Her greengrey curves remind me of riverbed hikes between dazzling cliffs. Smooth rocks, striped and spotted, pave my way. I pick one up and carry it along with me for a time before replacing it with another. I cannot settle for just one, because no rock exactly matches another. Even the plain rocks have something to teach. This rock used to be sand. That one hardened from lava. The one over there had jagged edges once. Thousands of years in the making, they offer no apologies. Neither does my hippopotamus. And after 21 years, neither do I.
My 21 years do not come close to my hippo’s decades of experience, and it shows. I scowl in the mornings. I run into stop signs on my bike. I burn grilled cheese sandwiches. I’m an ordinary rock, still being carved. With each scraped knee and every broken heart, I leave behind pieces I don’t need. One day my sharp edges will curve. I’ll be a hippopotamus. Or maybe a porcupine. Or even a dandelion. Whatever I become, I’ll be it with pride.
A skillful hand once carved an ordinary rock. The sculptor knew this rock had something to say. He gave it a voice. I gave it an ear.
Pride of the River Horse
In the palm of my hand, I cradle Hippopotamus amphibious, the river horse. She gazes up at me with eyes like a thunderstorm sky. Years ago, she hitched a ride out of the San Diego Zoo gift shop in my pocket. Souvenirs were a tradition in the Linford home, and I consequently acquired a lot of them. Brightly painted cats guarded my bookshelf. Posters crowded my walls. Ornate boxes overflowed with keepsake books. When I got married, most of these items remained in my childhood home to accumulate dust. But the little hippo still proudly defends my dresser wherever life takes us.
In the palm of my hand, I cradle Hippopotamus amphibious, the river horse. She gazes up at me with eyes like a thunderstorm sky. Years ago, she hitched a ride out of the San Diego Zoo gift shop in my pocket. Souvenirs were a tradition in the Linford home, and I consequently acquired a lot of them. Brightly painted cats guarded my bookshelf. Posters crowded my walls. Ornate boxes overflowed with keepsake books. When I got married, most of these items remained in my childhood home to accumulate dust. But the little hippo still proudly defends my dresser wherever life takes us.
It was her pride that attracted my attention that day at the zoo. Her grin lured me away from the stuffed lions and quirky key chains. My mom chuckled over my selection, but I bought her anyway. At a time when my own body made me uncomfortable, her attitude inspired me. As she relaxes on my dresser, her skin drapes over her feet and bulges out from between them. And yet, she holds her head high. Recognizing such confidence as a possibility, I felt my sense of guilt diminishing when I indulged in an occasional cookie.
My hippopotamus sports a hide of stone which cools my skin but brightens my mood. Enjoying a strong bond with gravity, she will not budge for just anyone. She is firm, but her smile drives away any shred of annoyance. If only all role models stood—or sat—so steadfast! I imagine her sinking down for a rest after a long day of rolling in the mud and munching grass on the banks of the Zambezi. Perhaps her life wants glamour, but I envy her contentment. I budge a little less, now, as I enjoy my own unglamorous existence.
Her greengrey curves remind me of riverbed hikes between dazzling cliffs. Smooth rocks, striped and spotted, pave my way. I pick one up and carry it along with me for a time before replacing it with another. I cannot settle for just one, because no rock exactly matches another. Even the plain rocks have something to teach. This rock used to be sand. That one hardened from lava. The one over there had jagged edges once. Thousands of years in the making, they offer no apologies. Neither does my hippopotamus. And after 21 years, neither do I.
My 21 years do not come close to my hippo’s decades of experience, and it shows. I scowl in the mornings. I run into stop signs on my bike. I burn grilled cheese sandwiches. I’m an ordinary rock, still being carved. With each scraped knee and every broken heart, I leave behind pieces I don’t need. One day my sharp edges will curve. I’ll be a hippopotamus. Or maybe a porcupine. Or even a dandelion. Whatever I become, I’ll be it with pride.
A skillful hand once carved an ordinary rock. The sculptor knew this rock had something to say. He gave it a voice. I gave it an ear.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
The End of an Era
I know, I haven't updated in too long. I will get on the ball soon. The truth is, my life has been crazy but uneventful. I honestly can't think of anything interesting to write. Well, there is my impending graduation next week, and that's always exciting. Let me just say that I have a tremendous respect for anyone who goes to school long enough to get more than a bachelor's degree. I think one more semester of school would finish me off. It feels pretty weird, though. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with myself once school doesn't have me running around like a chicken with its head cut off! I guess I'll have to be creative. :)
Monday, April 14, 2008
West Valley Blues
I wasn't going to bother writing about this last weekend until this morning. But then it got a bit more interesting.
I was in West Valley. Now, why was I in West Valley? Good question. It was out of sheer love for my daddy, that's why. I wanted to get him some gift certificates to some restaraunts near his office for his birthday. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of trying to actually find his office to see how close it was to various restaraunts. I never did find it. I did end up finding a mosque and a bunch of dead ends. I could see the freeway, but I couldn't reach it. I was so frustrated that I didn't see a big old SUV going the other way when I made a left turn, and now my insurance rates are ready for takeoff. Long story short, no one was hurt and both cars are still on the road, though poor "Shark" has seen better days. (Shark is my car's name. I believe that all cars need names that inspire confidence...especially when the cars I drive need fixing every six months or so).
Anyway, back to this morning. I get to work, and one of my coworkers calls me up on the radio and says, "I'm so glad you're alive!" Well, I hadn't told anyone at work about the accident, so I couldn't figure out why she would say that. Not that I'm complaining. It's always good to hear that someone's glad I'm alive. It's just that people don't come right out and tell me so very often. It turns out that she had dreamed I was dead.
Interpret that how you will, but I found it a bit disturbing, if only because of how my coworker must feel about me subconsciously.
I was in West Valley. Now, why was I in West Valley? Good question. It was out of sheer love for my daddy, that's why. I wanted to get him some gift certificates to some restaraunts near his office for his birthday. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of trying to actually find his office to see how close it was to various restaraunts. I never did find it. I did end up finding a mosque and a bunch of dead ends. I could see the freeway, but I couldn't reach it. I was so frustrated that I didn't see a big old SUV going the other way when I made a left turn, and now my insurance rates are ready for takeoff. Long story short, no one was hurt and both cars are still on the road, though poor "Shark" has seen better days. (Shark is my car's name. I believe that all cars need names that inspire confidence...especially when the cars I drive need fixing every six months or so).
Anyway, back to this morning. I get to work, and one of my coworkers calls me up on the radio and says, "I'm so glad you're alive!" Well, I hadn't told anyone at work about the accident, so I couldn't figure out why she would say that. Not that I'm complaining. It's always good to hear that someone's glad I'm alive. It's just that people don't come right out and tell me so very often. It turns out that she had dreamed I was dead.
Interpret that how you will, but I found it a bit disturbing, if only because of how my coworker must feel about me subconsciously.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Rugby, anyone?
I hope I didn't disturb anyone with the geoduck article. Maybe I should have eased people into my writing with something a bit more normal, lol. I just thought it was interesting and was amazed at how much of a fuss there was about something I'd never heard of. I'm one of those people that reads something that interests me and immediately thinks the rest of the world wants to know too, even if they could care less. My mom can attest to that. She got to learn all sorts of useless fascinating facts while I was in high school.
Anyway, enough about that. The only problem is that I don't have much else to say today. I'm at work in dispatch this morning and it's still pretty quiet. I'm trying to hide from my coworker who wants me to join the women's rugby team that he coaches. Now why anyone would think I would be good at rugby I don't know. It's laughable, really. I can't see myself running around tackling people. It's just not my thing.
Anyway, enough about that. The only problem is that I don't have much else to say today. I'm at work in dispatch this morning and it's still pretty quiet. I'm trying to hide from my coworker who wants me to join the women's rugby team that he coaches. Now why anyone would think I would be good at rugby I don't know. It's laughable, really. I can't see myself running around tackling people. It's just not my thing.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Masterpiece #1
As promised, I have come up with more random information for you to read or utterly and completely ignore. It was actually a paper I wrote for my creative writing class. The assignment was to research a topic--any topic--and write about it creatively. Here goes:
The Mighty "Gooey-Duck"
Sitting at my desk at work this morning, I was interrupted by a coworker. "Have you ever heard of a gooey-duck?" she asked. Not surprisingly, no one had any idea what she was talking about. Not having any idea what a "gooey-duck" was, I wasn't sure I really wanted to find out. Nevertheless, we consulted the all-knowledgeable World Wide Web and unearthed this picture:
I let out an "eww" and resumed my paperwork. That evening, however, my mind drifted back to the "gooey-duck," and I thought perhaps I would give it a chance.
It turns out that the blob dangling from the shell in the picture above is a geoduck. Despite its spelling, my coworker had pronounced the name accurately. The name derives from a Native American word meaning "dig deep." The geoduck, Panopea abrupta, is the largest burrowing clam in the world, found in the Pacific Northwest. The geoduck begins life as a microscopic larva in the ocean. After a few weeks of going with the flow, the geoduck settles on the floor, where it will stay for the duration of its life. After finding a suitable spot, it begins burrowing at a rate of about 1 foot per year. Three years later, it stops. And it doesn't start again. Ever. Geoducks can live up to 146 years and exceed 15 pounds in weight, living a happy, boring life slurping up plankton.
If the clam escapes the hungry shrimp, crabs, sea stars, flounders, and snails until it is two feet underground, it becomes invincible. Almost. In some places, geoducks are considered a delicacy, although I can't fathom what would compel anyone to eat something that looks like that.
Some people, it seems, get excessively excited about geoducks. Many Washington natives indulge in a bit of geoduck hunting to relax. In addition, The Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA has even embraced the geoduck as their mascot. They even have an entire song about it:
"Go, Geoducks go,
Through the mud and the sand,
let's go.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.
Go, Geoducks go,
Stretch your necks when the tide
is low.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out."
Whether or not you sing "The Geoduck Fight Song" with zeal, the geoduck deserves respect. If nothing else, it's certainly an interesting creature. After all, what other animal can sit motionless in the sand for 143 years and get away with it?
I found the information for this paper on the following websites:
http://www.manandmollusc.net/geoduck.html
http://www.billcasselman.com/canadian_food_words/cfw_four.htm
http://www.olywa.net/cook/faq.htm
http://www.wdfw.wa.gov/fish/shelfish/beachreg/2clam.htm
http://www.ecy.wa.gov/programs/sea/pugetsound/species/geoduck.html
http://www.evergreen.edu/athletics/geoduck.htm
The Mighty "Gooey-Duck"
Sitting at my desk at work this morning, I was interrupted by a coworker. "Have you ever heard of a gooey-duck?" she asked. Not surprisingly, no one had any idea what she was talking about. Not having any idea what a "gooey-duck" was, I wasn't sure I really wanted to find out. Nevertheless, we consulted the all-knowledgeable World Wide Web and unearthed this picture:
I let out an "eww" and resumed my paperwork. That evening, however, my mind drifted back to the "gooey-duck," and I thought perhaps I would give it a chance.It turns out that the blob dangling from the shell in the picture above is a geoduck. Despite its spelling, my coworker had pronounced the name accurately. The name derives from a Native American word meaning "dig deep." The geoduck, Panopea abrupta, is the largest burrowing clam in the world, found in the Pacific Northwest. The geoduck begins life as a microscopic larva in the ocean. After a few weeks of going with the flow, the geoduck settles on the floor, where it will stay for the duration of its life. After finding a suitable spot, it begins burrowing at a rate of about 1 foot per year. Three years later, it stops. And it doesn't start again. Ever. Geoducks can live up to 146 years and exceed 15 pounds in weight, living a happy, boring life slurping up plankton.
If the clam escapes the hungry shrimp, crabs, sea stars, flounders, and snails until it is two feet underground, it becomes invincible. Almost. In some places, geoducks are considered a delicacy, although I can't fathom what would compel anyone to eat something that looks like that.
Some people, it seems, get excessively excited about geoducks. Many Washington natives indulge in a bit of geoduck hunting to relax. In addition, The Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA has even embraced the geoduck as their mascot. They even have an entire song about it:
"Go, Geoducks go,
Through the mud and the sand,
let's go.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.
Go, Geoducks go,
Stretch your necks when the tide
is low.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out."
Whether or not you sing "The Geoduck Fight Song" with zeal, the geoduck deserves respect. If nothing else, it's certainly an interesting creature. After all, what other animal can sit motionless in the sand for 143 years and get away with it?
I found the information for this paper on the following websites:
http://www.manandmollusc.net/geoduck.html
http://www.billcasselman.com/canadian_food_words/cfw_four.htm
http://www.olywa.net/cook/faq.htm
http://www.wdfw.wa.gov/fish/shelfish/beachreg/2clam.htm
http://www.ecy.wa.gov/programs/sea/pugetsound/species/geoduck.html
http://www.evergreen.edu/athletics/geoduck.htm
Monday, April 7, 2008
Welcome!
Well, I'm finally starting a blog. The excitement of it all!
I'm graduating soon (hooray!) so I thought I'd do something crazy...like a blog. I know, it's real spontaneous. So I'll be dropping in periodically to tell you all stuff that you probably didn't care to know.
My question of the day is WHO ORDERED THIS WEATHER?
My random fact of the day is that most lipstick contains fish scales. (http://www.strangefacts.com/) Another reason not to wear makeup.
I'm graduating soon (hooray!) so I thought I'd do something crazy...like a blog. I know, it's real spontaneous. So I'll be dropping in periodically to tell you all stuff that you probably didn't care to know.
My question of the day is WHO ORDERED THIS WEATHER?
My random fact of the day is that most lipstick contains fish scales. (http://www.strangefacts.com/) Another reason not to wear makeup.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)