so obviously I never got around to keeping a food diary focusing on local foods. homework, facebook, girls, boys, npr, the daily show/colbert report, work got the better of me. but basically - all of the food in my house on a regular basis comes from far far away and doesn't generally taste very good.

Grapes from Chile

Clif Bars from California

Spinach from California

Almonds from California

Kroger products from Cincinnatti (who knows where they are actually from before they get distributed from Cinncinnati - i don't know how to spell this haha)

Bananas from Ecuador

Apples (out of season) from Washington

Cheese from New York and Vermont

I don't think I could find one thing in my house that's grown and produced locally.

Wow.

I shouldn't be surprised, but once you start paying attention it really sort of knocks the wind out of you.

So this spring/summer is going to revolve around me trying to join a CASA and buy vegetables and fruits from them, going to lots of U-Pick places and picking TONS of fruit, working on farms in the surrounding area, learning how to store/can/freeze produce form the summer so I can eat it throughout the winter.

Where does my food come from?

Last week I started reading Barbara Kingsolver's memoir-ish Animal, Vegetable, Miracle which is an account of her family's move to Appalaicha and the year they spent trying to eat only local food that had been grown and produced in their own county. Even after finishing only the first quarter of the book, I have been struck with the urge to find out where my food comes from, in every sense. As grocery-store oriented as we are, we tend to think that food comes from the grocery store, forgetting that it actually grows. Yeah, really! Like, in the dirt. And we tend to forget that foods come in seasons. Grapes for example. Yesterday I came home and there was a bowl of grapes in the fridge. It's February and I live in Tennessee. There are also avocadoes, raisins, apples, peppers, and spinach in my fridge. I'm pretty sure avocados don't grow here, and I know for sure that it's not apple or pepper season. I have suddenly become almost self-conscious of the fact that I - me- a person who likes to think of herself as environmentally, socially, politically, economically aware, a person who likes to think of herself as intelligent and thoughtful doesn't know where her food comes from. I don't know where it comes from, how it's grown, how it's harvested, when it's in season, who picked it, how far it traveled to get here. . . granted I know basic things like apples grow in the fall and strawberries come in the summer but the number of things I don't know outweigh the things I do.

So, so, so.

I've decided something.

I've decided that just for the next week I am going to keep track of everything I eat. Not for dieting or calorie-counting purposes, but to find out where my food comes from. I am going to keep track of:

-where it was grown

-where it was processed/packaged/produced/shipped from

-how many miles away from me that is

-ingredients and where those all were grown and came from

-HOW certain food is grown, and where it is most abundant

-is it in season?

-price

-deliciousness (taste factor)

-packaging (cardboard box, plastic wrapping, etc.)

My goal is twofold: to educate myself, and to see if eating only locally and in season would be less expensive than my household's current food costs.

Bon Apetit. Aren't fossil fuels yummmmmmy? :)

and yet. . . .

I don't know how to do things. I don't know how to accomplish things, or, more specifically, complete things. I am forever writing down my daily thoughts, ideas, goals, book recommendations on endless slips of paper and yet . . . . .

I am endlessly dreaming of writing, drawing, working on creative projects, writing papers, making music, the days when I will do all these things and yet. . . . .

I think at least three times a week of all the places I long to travel to, everything I long to do, the walk across england I long to take, the experiences I dream of having and yet. . . . .

I am a flurry of tightly wound, anxious energy that dissipates into ellipses before even reaching my fingertips. . . .

and yet. . . .

I dream of the day when all this anxiety, and over-thought will cease, when the tension will melt from my shoulders, when I will write every day, and challenge my brain to truly think every day, and when i will run with ease over the rolling hills of my landscape, and yet. . . .

that day continues to elude me.

Whether this is of my own doing, or simply a pipe dream, I do not know.

there is only uncertainty. i must accept this.

and yet. . . .

"the opposite of a great truth is also a great truth"

may my heart always be open to little by e.e. cummings

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

the lesson of the moth by Don Marquis\

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter

it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves.

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

sept. 2nd: mihaly csikszentimihalyisetp

is my favorite.

I'm reading his book "Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention"

It makes me appreciate my talents. And also wish I was a genius.

But I know I'm not, because I think that to be a genius you can't be aware of your own genius.

Basically, his book is about "how to find purpose and enjoyment in the chaos of existence."
How awesome of a thesis statement is that.

good words of sept. 2:
minstrel, profit, voyeur, segment, monastic, infinitude, spatiotemporal

good people to possibly marry:
sam phillips, david corlew

inspirational quote for sept. 2:
"Well, I think probably sex and songs. If I was asked to reduce it to what keeps me going, I think that the creative instinct is fed by sex and music. Without them I think that you would wither, pretty much."

playlist: september 1st

1. Virgo Clowns- Van Morrison

Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room

2. Distraction #75- The Avett Brothers

So give me a try at describing just how difficult it is.
When you kinda love two girls to figure out which one you miss.
Stumble away from your stairway with your perfume on my clothes.
Well I kinda loved two girls but now I've kinda lost 'em both.

3. Here Comes the Sun - Nina Simone

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

4. The Birds and the Bees - Patrick and Eugene

if God has a freaky British-indie sense humour, this song will be playing during the apocalypse.
also, lead singer = Hagrid

5. I Got the Feelin' - James Brown

i got the feelin' oh baby baby I got the feelin'!

6. Never Going Back Again - Fleetwood Mac
(written by Lindsey Buckingham)

i'm gonna miss this!

but I am so SO grateful and so incredibly proud to have been involved in such a joyous show and such a great ensemble. My life has been changed FO' SHO : )

Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster. Your life will never be the same again.
- Og Mandino

i want this to be me

i'm reading again. . .

on a regular basis. it's wonderful! I'm re-reading Anne Bogart's A Director Prepares: Seven Essays on Art and Theatre. There are two many choice quotes, insights, and pieces of advice to write them all down, I'll just have to hope my tiny brain absorbs as many as possible! But here are a few I found in just the first few pages.

One has only to read, to look, to listen, to remember

(Virginia Woolf)

"Reality depends upon our choices of what and how we choose to observe."

Examine for a moment an ordinary mind on an ordinary day. The mind receives a myriad impressions -- trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms; and as they fall, as they shape themselves into the life of Monday or Tuesday, the accent falls differently from of old; the moment of importance came not here but there.

(Virginia Woolf)

. . . . and more to come!

Janis

Un-pop-cultured as I am, until about a month ago I knew next to nothing about Janis Joplin. Then my lovely director, Brenda Sparks, for this summer's Nashville Shakespeare Festival production of Taming of the Shrew, mentioned that she was seeing Kate as sort of a Janis Joplin to Bianca's Goldie Hawn (we're setting it in the late sixties). So off I set to embark on some research of Janis. And, honestly, she's kind of knocked the wind out of me. I just finished a biography of her called Sweet Scars of Paradise by Alice Echols which, DESPITE IT'S CLICHE TITLE, was absolutely engrossing. Janis's complexity was not diminished in anyway (and if you think she wasn't complex, think again, 'cause we all are). I identified with Janis, admired Janis, hated Janis, rooted for Janis, misunderstood Janis. It would be hard for any young woman NOT to identify with Janis, she was one of the first female celebrities who didn't mask her issues, but instead bared and sometimes flaunted them. She was so insecure, worrying until the day she died that one day everyone would find out she was an imposter, that she couldn't sing. She fucked right and left in her manic desire to be loved and accepted, despite her not-so-great looks. She felt lonely even in the midst of huge success and acknowledgement of her talent. I just couldn't believe how much I related to her, how I found myself thinking, "i've done that! I do that! It's fucked up but it's not just me!"

Suffice it to say, she is providing a lot of inspiration for me this summer, both personally and "in the world of the play" as they say :) And this version of "Cry Baby" kicks ass.

A 33-year-old Egyptian man, who currently sleeps in the parks of Milan, eats in charity kitches, and occasionally washes dishes for restaurants whenever he needs some cash testifies to the happiness of his life:

After the War of 1967 I decided to leave Egypt and start hitchhiking toward Europe. Ever since I have been living with my mind concentrated within myself. It has not been just a trip, it has been a search for identity. Every man has something to discover within himself. The people in my town were sure I was crazy when I decided to start walking to Europe. But the best thing in life is to know oneself. . . My idea from 1967on has remained the same: to find myself. I had to struggle against many things. I passed through Lebanon and its war, through Syria, Jordan, Turkey, Yugoslavia, before getting here. I had to confront all sorts of natural disasters; I slept in ditches near the road in thunderstorms, I was involved in accidents, I have seen friends die next to me, but my concentration has never flagged. . . It has been an adventure that so far has lasted twenty years, but it will keep going on for the rest of my life. . .

Through these experiences I have come to see tha the world is not worth much. The only thing that counts for me no, first and last, is God. I am most concentrated when I pray with my prayer beads. Then I am able to put my feelings to sleep, to calm myself and avoid becoming crazy. I believe that destiny rules life, and it makes no sense to struggle too hard . . . During my journey I have seen hunger, war, death, and poverty. Now through prayer I have begun to hear myself, I have returned toward my center, I have achieved concentration and I have understood that the world has no value. Man was born to be tested on this earth. Cars, television sets, clothes are secondary. The main thing is that we were born to praise the Lord. Everyone has his own fate, and we should be like the lion in the proverb. The lion, when he runs after a pack of gazelles, can only catch them one at a time. I try to be like that, and not like Westerners who go crazy working even though they cannot eat more than their daily bread. . . If I am to live twenty more years, I will try to live enjoying each moment, instead of killing myself to get more. . . If I am to live like a free man who does not depend on anyone, I can afford to go slowly; if I don't earn anything today, it does not matter. It means that this happens to be my fate. Next day I may earn 100 million -- or get a terminal illness. Like Jesus Christ said, What does it benefit to man if he gains the entire world, but loses himself? I have tried first to conquer myself; I don't care if I lose the world.

I set out on this journey, like a baby bird hatching from its egg; ever since I have been walking in freedom. Every man should get to know himself and experience life in all its forms. I could have gone on sleeping soundly in my bed, and found work in my town, because a job was ready for me, but I decided to sleep with the poor, because one must suffer to become a man. One does not get to be a man by getting married, by having sex: to be a man means to be responsible, to know when it is time to speak, to know what has to be said, to know when one must stay silent.



-from Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi


. . . which is an excellent book by the way. I would highly recommend it. Or at least go wach Csikszentmihalyi's TED talk.

It's true, one does not become a man (or a woman, for that matter, but I feel this is more of an issue in our culture with men) by having sex. Anyone can have sex, any animal can have sex. We are biologically programmed to have and enjoy sex. What is hard, what makes you a mature adult is managing your sexual power in a responsible way, realizing the effect of sexual power and using it wisely and maturely.

Life’s short and we never have enough time for the hearts of those who travel the way with us. O, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.” -Henri Frederic Amiel

we have so much

and yet we put so little of it to use.

"No one has the answers.
Everyone has the responsibility."

fell in love with a poem

The Four-Moon Planet

I have envied the four-moon planet.
-from The Notebooks of Robert Frost

Maybe he was thinking of the song
"What a Little Moonlight Can Do?"
and became curious about
what a lot of moonlight might be capable of.

But wouldn't this be too much of a good thing?
and what if you couldn't tell them apart
and they always rose together
like pale quadruplets entering a living room?

Yes, there would be enough light
to read a book or write a letter at midnight,
and if you drank enough tequilia
you might see eight of them roving brightly above.

But think of the two lovers on a beach,
his arm around her bare shoulder,
thrilled at how close they were feeling tonight,
while he gazed at one moon and she another.

[by Billy Colins, from his new collection Ballistics]

things i like. . .

-being alone
-being alone
-being alone
-being alone
-being alone
-being alone
-being alone and watching the o.c.
-being alone and watching gossip girl
-being alone and reading
-being alone and bicycling
-being alone and writing poetry


i like myself more when i'm alone.

things i don't like doing alone:

-drinking
-smoking cigarettes
-doing yoga


things i like doing with anna:
-being silly
-watching alias/arrested development/gossip girl
-talking
-talking about infomania

things i like doing with nicole:
-cooking
-playing scrabble
-talking
-driving

things i like doing with anna millard:
-getting coffee
-gossiping
-talking and walking and smoking cigarettes
-kissing

more from Still Life with Woodpecker

"nothing is implied here. Except the possibility that everything is connected."

"those who shun the whimsy of things will experience rigor mortis before death."

"Equality is not in regarding different things similarly, equality is in regarding different things differently."

"Don't let yourself be victimized by the age you live in. It's not the times that will bring us down, any more than it's society. When you put the blame on society, then you end up turning to society for the solution. Just like those poor neurotics at the Care Fest. There's a tendency today to absolve individuals of moral responsibility and treat them as victims of social circumstance. You buy that, you pay with your soul . . . What limits people is lack of character. What limits people is that they don't have the fucking nerve or imagination to star in their own movie, let alone direct it."

"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. the most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free."

{}

people always take photos of flowers, but not their stems.

holy sex