Monday, April 30, 2007

Our Funny Children

Englightended Piper....

Followed by Englightened Umberto

Umberto the Poet

My mom took Umberto to the ocean on Friday. He told my mom upon seeing the ocean for the first time since he was a baby, "She is big and she is angry." A poet? Perhaps.

Poet or football hoodlum? Place your votes today.

Post Gaps

I was looking at journal I kept in Farmington, and there is I swear a year gap between some of the posts. One minute I'm fantasizing about some guy I meet over the Internet (remember D. C. anyone? In my defense, I was not looking to date over the Internet, and he ended up being totally hot, and we meet in NYC) and the next I'm knocked up by some sexy Mexican. But in some ways life does feel like that....gappy you know?

Whenever I try to make this post about the things we do (actually?), I end up feel this odd detachment which I don't like. I think it arises due to these huge gaps of time between when things happen and when I get around to actually writing about them. Things happen, and then you look back but you look back from a different place each day that passes. What seemed so interesting, annoying, heart breaking, two months ago can seem rather mundane. Plus the events pass from immediacy into a more structured memory. I believe that we culturally condition certain memories to fit into an accepted narrative.

Take childbirth....during the moment, it's really unpleasant. I'm sorry about the pain is so intense and awful that I doubt many actually feel empowered in the moment. Since none of us going through childbirth are likely to be blogging as we're pushing out little Jr. I think it's safe to assume that child birth narratives come after the fact. Looking back, the experience was empowering, transcendent, etc. But was it really all those things in the moment or was it those things because it's supposed to be those things? I remember just thinking "Hell someone kill me now cause I can't take much more" during my labor with Piper. I was not fully aware of the dim lights, Glen Gould playing in the background, Horacio supporting me. All I could think about was getting her out of

This musing all came as I tried to write about Nashville. I presented a paper there over a month ago, and it seems like ages have passed. I left both disillusioned and excited, and now I just feel the disillusionment (more because of something happened then because of the conference). I can't even write about it. It's okay though cause what I tried to write was much more boring than this post.