doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
Archive for November, 2006
the book of me
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I have a friend who keeps telling me that I should write a book about my life. She says that I’ve had a lot of interesting things happen and that she is sure people would read it.
That makes me take a look at my life. Because, after all, it’s just my life. I don’t see it as interesting or extraordinary or as book material. I see it as just something I’ve had to get through in order to get to this point.
What is interesting in my life and worthy of a book?
I had teenage parents who weren’t quite ready for either marriage or a child. I changed the way their lives would be forevermore.
We did travel / move a lot when I was a kid, mostly because my dad was in the Navy. That has given me a strange wanderlust that I can’t ever satisfy the way it requires.
When my dad finally left the Navy, we came back west and lived in San Diego where we often lived off of the proceeds from our swap meet sales.
My parents decided to move – without much money – and we lived in a Metro van for a while. The KOA Campground in Missoula, Montana was home.
We finally got a house – a trailer in a huge trailer park (hundreds and hundreds of trailers). I brought a pony home. We rode bikes over dirt roads daily. We could smell the meat processing plant every day (because it was just down the hill from where we lived). I stuck my tongue to the swings on a winter’s day and remember that event even now, 30+ years later. I hid in the huge sewer tubes that were along the side of the road with a friend and we would read magazines that were tossed aside. We grew a garden and survived off of the veggies in that garden. My sister was born here and my puppies were killed here.
We moved across town to a nicer area. We stole horses to go for a joy ride. I played Life with my best friend Paula. We did cartwheels through the green, green grasses in her yard. She had a Tennessee Walker and I wanted to ride him. Our yard was full of prize-winning irises. My mom slipped one day and hit one of the stakes around the irises and had to get stitches. We had a huge garden and I still remember the sweet taste of fresh, raw asparagus and the overwhelming power of strawberries and rhubarb. This is the place where I had my 7th and 8th grade parties: blacklights, cool music, and more. Someone threw pizza at the walls and I had to clean it. My brother moved into the basement and lived under those blacklights – this after my mom dumped all of his dressers and closets on the floor and told him to clean his room. This is where we fought and my sister had a wrench in her head and I had to protect my baby. This is where I made the pancakes that were as hard as steel. This is where I got good at softball, got my first pair of Nikes, was treated like white trash by girls at school, learned how to play basketball, got on the honor roll, was good at math and science, and where my beloved dog was shot. This is where I babysat a cute boy down the street, rode my bike into a ditch during a blizzard, learned to play the flute, swam in those same ditches and caught crawdads and played on a tree swing. This is where we were when Mt. St. Helens blew and we had to wear face masks to protect us from the ash, where we played basketball in that ash, where we saw a total eclipse of the sun and created solar cookers and cooked an egg. This is where we staged elaborate ice skating shows on our road for our parents. This is where one brother stole the trail bike and tore up the back yard, where the horses behind us ate our fence, and where another brother put a lit match in a gas tank and put the cap back on – and where that same cap blew off, burning the side of his face and his hair and where he first met a fireman. This was the place.
We moved. Homeless again. We lived in our parents’ business, in the loft. We took baths in trash cans.
We moved again. Las Vegas. Totally different world. I didn’t understand the kids here. They were hardened, even in the 8th grade. I rode to school on the back of my dad’s motorcycle. I played softball, basketball, and volleyball. I got stitches when my brother sliced open my leg with a dustpan. My cousin put cicada skins in my bed.
We moved across town. High school. Rich kids. We were poor. I played softball, basketball, and volleyball. I learned about soccer. I played in the marching band and the concert band. I was second chair. I got my first kiss here. And the first time a boy put his tongue in my ear and it was just too wet and it made me ill (I threw up). I had many crushes. The older boy up the street was a major one. I thought he was beautiful. He didn’t see me. The older man across the street did notice me and I thought it was cool that a man found me attractive (it wasn’t cool and it was against the law). I learned to drive here. I became a part of the speech and debate team, the theatre group, student government, and was named outstanding teen in Vegas (only one a month was chosen). I started college while still in high school.
And we moved again. Flagstaff, Arizona. The middle of my senior year. I was bored. School was easy. I ditched for the first time ever. I got in my first car accident (broad-sided by a huge truck). Winters were more like Montana. Had my first boyfriend. He was gay but neither of us realized it at that time. Tried drugs. They didn’t work for me. Had great potential. People thought I’d go far.
And that is only my life until I graduated from high school – with many details left out. The ensuing years are full of peril and sadness, joy and happiness.
blessing and curse
05 years ago
I love snow. I really do. I like how the untouched snow blankets the earth and makes it appear pristine and beautiful.
Snow is glorious.
But it’s also a pain. Only because we have too many people moving here who have NEVER driven in snow.
I’ve been driving in snow my entire adult life. I know how to do it and how to do it well. Okay, well can be subjective, I suppose.
I don’t think people realize that when they are going 10mph down a highway because they don’t know how to drive in snow that it is just as dangerous as driving as if there were no road hazards.
I don’t think they understand that.
And what is this thing about driving as close as possible to one another, in single file lines, down a road? There are 2 lanes, people! Use them! Don’t make it dangerous for the rest of us simply because you don’t know how to drive in snow!
Sheesh.
On a cheerful note, we got our first snowfall last night. And it’s beautiful.
oh, the things I’ve done…
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sage, over at Musings, did his take on this meme and I thought it might be fun to share a bit of myself with you through it.
If it’s bold, I did it. My personal comments are in the parentheses.
- Bought everyone in the bar a drink
- Swam with wild dolphins
- Climbed a mountain (can’t count how many)
- Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
- Been inside the Great Pyramid (Like sage, only the one in Vegas)
- Held a tarantula (my aunt had a pet tarantula)
- Taken a candlelit bath with someone
- Said “I love you†and meant it
- Hugged a tree (oh, how I get teased about this)
- Bungee jumped
- Visited Paris (not yet – but maybe someday soon)
- Watched a lightning storm at sea
- Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise (too many times to count)
- Seen the Northern Lights (this isn’t a big deal – they can be seen from the tops of the mountains here)
- Gone to a huge sports game (I guess the national league playoffs count)
- Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
- Grown and eaten your own vegetables (and fruit)
- Touched an iceberg
- Slept under the stars
- Changed a baby’s diaper (been doing this since I was a kid – and still don’t like it much)
- Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
- Watched a meteor shower (from the top of Wolf Creek pass in Colorado – among others)
- Gotten drunk on champagne
- Given more than you can afford to charity (it’s those cute baby seals, darn it!)
- Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
- Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment (inappropriate fits of laughter are an art form)
- Had a food fight
- Bet on a winning horse (but it wasn’t a big win)
- Asked out a stranger
- Had a snowball fight
- Screamed as loudly as you possibly can (At Universal Studios, I was chosen out of the audience to reproduce Janet Lee’s scream from Psycho so they could show how blue screens work)
- Held a lamb
- Seen a total eclipse (wore my dad’s welding goggles – but we also built an egg cooker at school and cooked an eclipse egg)
- Ridden a roller coaster (wheeeeee…I feel sick)
- Hit a home run (I wasn’t the clean-up batter on my softball team for no reason)
- Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking (more times that I can count)
- Adopted an accent for an entire day
- Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment (more often than not)
- Had two hard drives for your computer (What? This isn’t normal?)
- Visited all 50 states (so close…48)
- Taken care of someone who was drunk
- Had amazing friends
- Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
- Watched wild whales
- Stolen a sign
- Backpacked in Europe
- Taken a road-trip (spontaneous road trips are the best)
- Gone rock climbing (scary and exciting all at once)
- Midnight walk on the beach
- Gone sky diving
- Visited Ireland (on my list)
- Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
- In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
- Visited Japan (on my list)
- Milked a cow
- Alphabetized your CDs (ahem…they are even chronological within the alphabetizing)
- Pretended to be a superhero (I *was* wonderwoman!)
- Sung karaoke
- Lounged around in bed all day (oh…people don’t do this a lot?)
- Played touch football
- Gone scuba diving (almost but something happened)
- Kissed in the rain
- Played in the mud (even made mud pies)
- Played in the rain
- Gone to a drive-in theater (I miss drive-ins)
- Visited the Great Wall of China (on my list)
- Started a business
- Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
- Toured ancient sites (I do this often)
- Taken a martial arts class
- Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
- Gotten married
- Been in a movie
- Crashed a party
- Gotten divorced
- Gone without food for 5 days
- Made cookies from scratch
- Won first prize in a costume contest
- Ridden a gondola in Venice (does the Venetian in Vegas count?)
- Gotten a tattoo (and want another one)
- Rafted the Snake River (I’ve hiked around it)
- Been on television news programs as an “expertâ€
- Got flowers for no reason
- Performed on stage (used to be in theater in high school and first few years of college)
- Been to Las Vegas (even lived there)
- Recorded music (high school concert band)
- Eaten shark
- Kissed on the first date
- Gone to Thailand (on my list)
- Bought a house (yay!)
- Been in a combat zone (does SouthCentral count?)
- Buried one/both of your parents
- Been on a cruise ship
- Spoken more than one language fluently
- Performed in Rocky Horror
- Raised children
- Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
- Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country (this would be cool)
- Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (several times and don’t regret any of them)
- Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
- Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking (imagine LA rush hour, traffic stopped, people right next to me)
- Had plastic surgery
- Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived (at least 2)
- Wrote articles for a large publication
- Lost over 100 pounds (73 but not 100)
- Held someone while they were having a flashback
- Piloted an airplane
- Touched a stingray
- Broken someone’s heart (I don’t think I have)
- Helped an animal give birth
- Won money on a T.V. game show
- Broken a bone
- Gone on an African photo safari (high up on the list)
- Had a facial part pierced other than your ears (I wouldn’t mind an eyebrow piercing)
- Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol (yes, yes, and yes – and still hate them)
- Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
- Ridden a horse
- Had major surgery
- Had a snake as a pet
- Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (several times)
- Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
- Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states (I wish)
- Visited all 7 continents
- Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
- Eaten kangaroo meat
- Eaten sushi
- Had your picture in the newspaper
- Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
- Gone back to school (hah!)
- Parasailed
- Touched a cockroach
- Eaten fried green tomatoes
- Read The Iliad – and the Odyssey
- Selected one “important†author who you missed in school, and read (several, actually)
- Killed and prepared an animal for eating (do fish count?)
- Skipped all your school reunions (I haven’t heard about any of them – and I live in the same town!)
- Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
- Been elected to public office (do school elections count?)
- Written your own computer language (some programmers may think it’s my own language – heh)
- Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
- Had to put someone you love into hospice care
- Built your own PC from parts (and it still works)
- Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
- Had a booth at a street fair
- Dyed your hair (blue and pink – but not at the same time)
- Been a DJ
- Shaved your head (and loved it)
- Caused a car accident
- Saved someone’s life (there were two of us)
holidays
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It’s that season again. Black Friday, Cyber Monday – it’s all about consumerism.
Or is it?
Willow and I drove up to the Grand Canyon on Saturday. We took the back route, up highway 64, through the Navajo Nation. We stopped at a few overlooks that gave us spectacular views of the Little Colorado River gorge. Stunning.
While we were driving and talking about what she wanted from Santa Claus, my sweet girl says to me, “Aunt Dawn? You don’t come to my house on Solstice. What do you celebrate? Christmas or Solstice?”
Her family celebrates Solstice. Her aunts and uncles (the majority of them anyway) celebrate Christmas.
“I don’t really celebrate either, sweetie.”
“Why not?”
I pondered. I really didn’t want to manipulate her or to make her feel sorry for me. I wanted her to understand the reasons I don’t celebrate things.
“Those holidays are really about family for me. And while I have you and your family, that’s a time when families tend to spend it with one another. I don’t have my own family so I don’t celebrate it.”
“Oh. But does Santa Claus visit you? Do you get presents?”
“I don’t. Santa doesn’t visit me.”
She thinks on this for a moment. “Aunt Dawn? I’m writing to Santa Claus for you. He will bring you presents this year.”
I nearly started to cry. While the holidays aren’t about presents for me but more about family, it would be nice to be remembered by people who say they love me.
This is a bad time of the year for me. Starting with my birthday, the Solstice/Christmas holiday and then New Year’s, I never feel more alone. I realize, at this time, how lonely being single can be.
I busy myself with things but it is also very difficult. Everyone is talking about the time they will be spending with family, the things they will be doing, and all of the plans they have. My family members tend to be a bit more insular and circle the wagons during this time. Willow’s family likes to spend the time with just their immediate family. My other brother goes to his wife’s famiiy’s house. My sister’s family tends to go to my mom’s house and then to her in-law’s house.
I like the quiet time. Don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it would be nice to have a family to spend time with.
raking
05 years ago
american life in poetry: column 087
by ted kooser, u.s. poet laureate, 2004-2006
The first poem we ran in this column was by David Allan Evans of South Dakota, about a couple washing windows together. You can find that poem and all the others on our website, www.americanlifeinpoetry.org. Here Tania Rochelle of Georgia presents us with another couple, this time raking leaves. I especially like the image of the pair “bent like parentheses/ around their brittle little lawn.”
Raking
Anna Bell and Lane, eighty,
make small leaf piles in the heat,
each pile a great joint effort,
like fifty years of marriage,
sharing chores a rusty dance.
In my own yard, the stacks
are big as children, who scatter them,
dodge and limbo the poke
of my rake. We’re lucky,
young and straight-boned.
And I feel sorry for the couple,
bent like parentheses
around their brittle little lawn.
I like feeling sorry for them,
the tenderness of it, but only
for a moment: John glides in
like a paper airplane, takes
the children for the weekend,
and I remember,
they’re the lucky ones–
shriveled Anna Bell, loving
her crooked Lane.
Reprinted from “Karaoke Funeral,” Snake Nation Press, 2003, by permission of the author. Copyright (c) 2003 by Tania Rochelle. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress, and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.
self-portrait, week #6
05 years ago
by dawn
in self portrait
“Between my chin and throat
his mouth slipped over and over.
Still between my arm and shoulder,
I feel the brush of his hair.”
Hilda Doolittle
There are those spots, those little places on your skin that can make you squirm or smile or want to be touched more.
While at the Dixie Chicks concert, my sister-in-law reached over to Willow to put her tag back in on the back of her shirt. Willow turned around and took her tag out again and asked her mom to do it again. She told her that she liked having her neck touched right there.
And I completely understood what she meant.
Neck, shoulders, small of my back, stomach, that curve at my waist – just above my hips – when I lay on my side, my lips, the slope of my jawline, my fingers and the palm of my hand…
All of these are intimate spots for me. They get touched and I’m immediately transported.
It makes me think of the way a cat moves when they are being petted in exactly the way they want. They purr and move against the touch.
That would be me. I purr and move. Move and purr. Okay, maybe not purr exactly but sighs are elicited.
The better I feel about myself, the more I take notice of those spots. I like those spots more because they say something about me: that I’m desirable or sexy or sensitive.
I like that.
thanksgiving
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Once I got over the initial dread of the stress of Thanksgiving dinner, I was looking forward to it. After all, I was going to get to spend time with my niece and nephew and enjoy some good food. It can’t get much better, right?
As I parked my car, Willow came running out to greet me. She was excited that I was there. Right behind her, Justice came out to greet me. “Dawn!” he said in his adorable voice (my name is one of the few that he can say and uses often). He wrapped his little arms around my leg and kissed my skirt.
It made me smile and smile. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves.
After a while, it changed.
I was so excited to show my dad that I had a photograph published. I mean, he is a great photographer and I wanted him to see that I’m following in his footsteps. He barely blinked an eye. It didn’t seem to matter to him.
I showed my mom. She told me congratulations but then said it must be scary. Scary to have a photograph published? No. I’m thrilled. It means that people who are outside of my community get to see it. It’s not scary at all. I didn’t say that but I was confused by her response.
And that was it. That was the full conversation between us. She didn’t talk to me again.
Even when I left, neither one said goodbye. I specifically said goodbye to them. Dad gave me a cursory response. Mom didn’t say anything.
You know, the barbs hurt. They get under my skin and I think about them over and over and over again.
But worse than that is the silence.
I know I’ll never be the daughter they wanted. They got her ten years later.
I don’t work for their approval anymore (despite evidence to the contrary above). At this point, I don’t expect it nor do I ever get it.
It just doesn’t matter anymore. I’m almost forty years old and I know they don’t like me. While it hurts, I’m also ok with it. I have a good life. And, frankly, they are missing out on it.
So, today I give thanks for being healthy, for having people in my life that do love me and care about me, for having people in my life to love and care about in return, and for having a cute, cuddly furry little guy to come home to who makes me smile.
words
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On this eve of the United States’ Thanksgiving Day, I wanted to do something a little different.
In the spirit of giving thanks for the bountiful life I have, I want to make a list of some of my favorite words and why they are important to me.
In no particular order:
- love
Why wouldn’t this be a favorite? When I think of the people in my life that I do love, I’m overcome with the absolute joy it brings me. And getting love back – especially from soft, cuddly kids – is enough to send me over the edge. There are so many levels of love but each one of them is important and treasured. - heart
Sure, it’s a muscle. But the fact is that this word holds so much more connotation than we can ever guess. If I say that someone holds a piece of my heart, they don’t literally (I hope!). But what I mean when I say it and what they infer from that can be the beginnings of something beautiful. - friend
I don’t use this word very often. Friends are few and far between. When I do, I mean it with all that I am. I treasure my friendships. They mean the world to me. - family
I write enough about family for anyone to know how strongly I feel about my family. Some of my family members have been through all of the thick and thin in my life. I know how fortunate I am to have that. - eccentric
It has been used against me as a derogatory term to say that I’m odd, strange, aloof, and undesirable. I like it, though. It means that I march to my own drum and that I don’t give in to the pressures of society. That can’t be all bad. - laugh/laughter
It’s like music, especially coming from a child. There is nothing better than full on laughter and enjoyment. - peripatetic
I just like the word. It’s a good word.
That’s it for today. For those of you who celebrate, a very happy Thanksgiving to you tomorrow.
dreaming
05 years ago
by dawn
in just a thought
In three weeks, I’ll be 40 years old. Forty. Wow. Frankly I have never thought of myself at that age. It seems old to me. But I’m not old. At least, I don’t think I am (and Willow tells me I’m not!).
In my family, I’m not even at middle age. Grandparents and great aunts have lived well past 80 years old. One great aunt died last year at the ripe old age of 101.
In those terms, I’m still a youngster.
So, am I allowed to still dream? Is that okay?
When does dreaming stop and we have to live in the here and now, paying attention only to reality?
I dream.
I dream of living in Spain, soaking in a whole new culture.
I dream of photographing beautiful Basque towns and amazing architecture and beautiful people.
I dream of traveling to Germany and Italy and Ireland…and maybe even France.
I dream of immersing myself into new communities.
I dream of being someone…someone people admire or look up to.
I dream of a life that is different than the one I currently live (which isn’t so bad, truth be told).
Is it okay to dream? My dreams don’t stay dreams for long. I tend to make them realities because I think that’s what life is about.
So is it okay to dream about something so drastically different that would take me away from all that I know?
My sister-in-law said that she’d visit me in Spain.
So I dream.
accidents and accusations
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When the calls and conversations
Accidents and accusations
Messages and misperceptions
Paralyze my mind
Last night, my sister-in-law, Jenn, and Willow, and I drove down to Glendale (in the Phoenix area) to see the Dixie Chicks in concert.
Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving
Burning fumes of gasoline
And everyone is running
And I come to find a refuge in the
We had to go to the Glendale arena and none of us is very familiar with the west valley. We don’t typically go there. Most of our connections live in the east valley. So, we spent a bit of time driving around to find parking (because, it so happens, that the Cardinals were also playing a game in the stadium next door and roads were blocked off and it was hard to find our way).
Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay
We were going to eat at the new mall that had been built there. The news had said that restaurants were open. Uhhh. No. Not one thing was open – except for a movie theatre.
Monkeys on the barricades
Are warning us to back away
They form commissions trying to find
The next one they can crucify
But there were these cool fountains that danced along with music. And we got sprayed by them and enjoyed the fountain show.
And anger plays on every station
Answers only make more questions
I need something to believe in
Breathe in sanctuary in the
We finally got into the arena and there were concessions open. We bought some food (that wasn’t really great). We bought t-shirts to commemorate the event. Then we found our seats.
Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay
At 7:30, the opening act, Bob Schneider was fun and great. Bluesy and rockin’, he got everyone excited.
Children lose their youth too soon
Watching war made us immune
And I’ve got all the world to lose
But I just want to hold on to the
Then we waited. And waited. And it got later. And Willow got tired. But they finally came on.
Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
By that time, though, Willow wasn’t feeling well. She danced for a little bit but then ended up spending the last hour curled up in her mom’s arms, with a fever, falling asleep. I kept offering to leave but they didn’t want to so we stayed to the end.
The easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay
And when the Dixie Chicks sang the song I’ve been quoting here, Easy Silence, I almost cried. It’s one of those songs that really gets to me. To have someone you can turn to who creates an easy silence…someone who keeps the world at bay…that must be the best thing ever.
But when they talked about The Long Way Around, it felt like an anthem for any of us who never take the easy road to anywhere. It’s that song for those of us who don’t follow the leader and who try things on our own, not living the traditional life.
All in all, I had a great time and enjoyed spending time with Jenn and Willow. That was the best part of it.