Favorites from xkcd: Impostor

 

A poem for Wednesday: A Just-Finishing Candle

A candle is made to become entirely flame.
In that annihilating moment
it has no shadow.

It is nothing but a tongue of light
describing a refuge.

Look at this
just-finishing candle stub
as someone who is finally safe
from virtue and vice,

the pride and the shame
we claim from those.

` Rumi

 

Instant favorite from xkcd: Tech Support Cheat Sheet

 

Piano for Friday: Lothlorien

Lothlorien, from Enya’s album “Shepherd Moons,” has been a favorite of mine since middle school. (That’s before the Lord of the Rings films had been produced, by the way, so it bugs me a little to see how many of the YouTube vids of this song describe it as from the movie or, worse, “by” the movie. It’s by Enya, circa 1991. I can’t even recall it being used in the movie — was it really?) I never thought about how simple the piece is, technically, but you can watch the hands of the player on this video; it could be a pretty easy piece to learn. One more for my “when I have a piano” list.

Here’s the song as it appears on the album, for comparison or interest.

 

A poem for Wednesday: Somewhere there is a poem

This is a performance poem by Gina Loring; the lyrics are below.

Somewhere there is a poem
And I want to write this poem
I want to speak this poem
I want to feel this poem
I want to experience this poem
Cradle it in my arms
Feed it a good meal
And send it on its merry way

I want to sing this poem
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound”
Somewhere there is a poem screaming
Get up, stand up
Stand up for your rights
Human beings, human beings
Beings being so
Caught up in the tangible material surface
Or that they never actually feel
Their touch is liquid and grazes right through
But misses the core
This poem whispers to me
And rocks me to sleep
And tells me stories of indigenous people
Diseased and tricked and slaughtered
And made to be extinct
But this ain’t no pterodactyl
Or tyrannosaurus rex blood flowing through my veins

I am a Creek American Indian
I exist
I am an African
I am an old Jewish woman muttering prayers in Yiddish
As my name is replaced with a number on my arm
I am a little Japanese girl
Staring in horror
As my village is bombed and burnt to the ground
I was born in India, but not to the right caste
So regardless of what I accomplish
I will always be a peasant
I died in Mexico three feet from the border
Gunned down by evil troops
Who shoot for a living
Who sacrifice their souls for
The man-made boundaries of these Americas
Somewhere, there is a poem somewhere
Dozing in subway stations
And flying high on a 405
And taking the L to Brooklyn
The 15 to Vegas
And the Marter through Atlanta
And cruising down a dark street in Oakland is a poem

This poem comes from somewhere deep
Somewhere where the angels sleep
Where pixies dance and mermaids weep
Where hymns are hummed
So God will keep us all in mind on Judgment Day
This poem warns, but does not sway
For what you do is up to you
Where you go and who you know
If you close up, or if you grow

Somewhere there is a poem about the insanity
Of war, Hiroshima, Hiroshima
Hero, hero, war hero
Hero-, hero-, heroin is
Crack cocaine is
The systematic genocide of my people
Brown skin behind bars
Locked up behind bars
Trapped behind bars
Enslaved behind bars
Kept in lines behind bars
Counted behind bars
Bars, there are more bars
Selling alcohol on a single reservation in Oklahoma
Than in all of Ventura county, county
Counting me in ‘cause I’m down for the revolution
Which may not be televised
And may not get radio play
But it will be told through poetry
‘Cause somewhere there is a poem

This poem speaks to me and draws me in
Like an amusement park to a kid
I want to freak this poem and dream this poem
And share it with y’all
Hold up, shhhhh
I just did

 

Home hunting

I’ve been spending inordinate amounts of time the last several days staring at craigslist. That’s right, folks, it’s house-hunting time again (or apartment or room in house)!

There are some affordable studios downtown that I’m applying for, and hoping they don’t rent out before I can get my application in. But if that happens, there are one or two places up in the Highlands (more specifically, West Highland or Berkeley) that could pan out to be pretty decent, and they’re in my so far favorite part of town. They’re cheaper than the downtown apartments, too, but of course I would probably have to go with a room in a shared house for much by way of savings.

Here’s hoping for one of two of my promising prospects to pan out — I can’t get my head around which would be better, one being cheaper and in a really nice neighborhood with the best grocery store ever and the other being downtown literally on top of an awesome bookstore and a block or two from every major bus and light rail line. It’s a toss-up, so as long as the coin doesn’t land on edge, I should be good!

(A studio would be really really nice though…closest I’ve had was a single room in the dorms five years ago. Too long, that is. )

 

Favorites from xkcd: Parking (562)

Introducing hat guy:

Tip for reading webcomics: always read the alt text (hold your mouse over the image).

 

Piano for Friday: Variations on a Theme

By David Lanz — Variations on a theme from Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major.

 

A poem for Wednesday: Enough words?

How does a part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?

Don’t try to put out a fire
by throwing on more fire!
Don’t wash a wound with blood!

No matter how fast you run,
your shadow more than keeps up.
Sometimes, it’s in front!

Only full, overhead sun
diminishes your shadow.

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break
the glass cover on your heart,
and there’s no fixing that.

You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

When from that tree, feathers and wings sprout
on you, be quieter than a dove.
Don’t open your mouth for even a cooooooo.

When a frog slips into the water, the snake
cannot get it. Then the frog climbs back out
and croaks, and the snake moves toward him again.

Even if the frog learned to hiss, still the snake
would hear through the hiss the information
he needed, the frog voice underneath.

But if the frog could be completely silent,
then the snake would go back to sleeping,
and the frog could reach the barley.

The soul lives there in the silent breath.

And that grain of barley is such that,
when you put it in the ground,
it grows.
Are these enough words,
or shall I squeeze more juice from this?
Who am I, my friend?

` Jalal ad-Din Rumi, trans. by Coleman Barks

 

Note to self: You are somewhat crazy

Yesterday was one of the busier days of my life. I had scheduled 17 interviews for the two staff who are doing first-round interviews for the program that will start its next cycle in November. It’s a pretty involved process, hence the first round starting up two and a half months before the crew’s first day.

Besides scheduling their first interviews, I am making sure the applicants finish all their paperwork (there’s a fair amount) and am supervising (timing) their placement tests. The test gives us a snapshot of where the applicant is at on math, reading and language skills — i.e. whether they have any reasonable chance of finishing their GED while they’re in our program. Which we want them to do.

There are four sections to the test, timed at 5-12 minutes each; I have to keep track of where candidates are at and tell them when to go to each new section. With so many applicants, I’m often timing more than one at once, who started at different times. Minute by minute I have to have my eye on the clock and keep everyone’s times straight. Pair this with two other people asking me to do two other (detail-intensive) things, in addition to scheduling more interviews for later this week? plus taking care of callers, walk-in visitors, new applicants, and interviewees for other programs?

It gets a little confusing.

And when scheduling yesterday’s interviews, I made sure the interviewers had a break for lunch, but failed to note that I would still be timing placement tests while they went for chow — and when said tests were completed, the next wave of interviewees would start to show up.

I will not make this mistake again.