family visit

This week I went to visit my great-aunt, who recently found out that her cancer returned, this time to her stomach. The doctor has given her two months to live, so my grandmother (her sister)'s side of the family descended upon her house this weekend, reuniting to make sure we got to see her before it's too late. She's pretty amazingly upbeat. My mom told her she was brave, and she just said, "well, I believe in God, so that gives me a lot of strength." And when you looked at her, you could tell how sincere she was. When someone is looking down the barrel of death with eyes that direct, it's really stunning. I was sort of in awe. She's always been my favorite of Grandma's siblings, and Grandma's biggest rival, because she's as smart and strong as she is. They used to fight a lot, and I would always stick up for her. Grandma would misunderstand her motives, because she's not bubbly and personable like Grandma, she's prickly and straightforward (that doesn't run in the family at ALL by the way :) ).

There was a puzzle set out on the coffee table in the living room, where everyone who visited could help to put a puzzle piece in place. If you got one (or more), you got to sign your name around the frame, which (with the puzzle) was going to be placed in a new baby's room (I forget whose). My uncle and I spent the better part of an hour working on it, and signed our names when we were done. My mom struggled for quite some time, but finally got one to fit. She jumped up and did a victory dance. The rest of the time we were there, it became kind of a joke - whenever someone was successful at something, the rest of us would say, "now you can sign your name."

Family is such a weird, complicated thing. But what a gift to be able to visit a relative before she dies, knowing that she will die soon. It sounds horribly morbid, but it makes a lot more sense than going to a funeral to say great things about her, even though she can no longer hear them. Best give your love to the living, while it can still do them good.

I wish I could find the quote

If you get a chance to watch the PBS Great Performances show on the Alvin Ailey dance theatre, do so! There was a quote from Mr. Ailey at the end of the show, where he articulated that the aim of his performances was to tell people "this is for you". The grand ballets, these are for you. The great works of art, these are for you - not some elite group of enthusiasts, but for anyone who experiences and feels the things his choreography expresses. High art that reaches out without dumbing down - extraordinary.

poem

Failing and Flying
by Jack Gilbert
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

A good night

I had a pretty good night last night; I was going to go to the library for my usual pointless internet fun (witness my current state), and I noticed a friend's light on as I walked. I decided to go spend some time with humans instead of machines, so I visited, and found a couple of folks watching "Howl's Moving Castle" which I couldn't really get into seeing's as I'd missed the first 7/8 of the thing. But it was weird and god do I love weird movies. A good portion of my life is spent watching weird movies by myself so any chance to do so with others is almost a thrill. Then I walked back through the building and had a nice chat with my old roommate, who I have complained about on many occasions, but she can be kind of thoughtful. She remembers everything I tell her and asks me about it, even if she doesn't really understand what was going through my head about it. For example, she'll be like, "Did you decide to move to Des Moines? Did you like the teachers? Did you find any place to live? How about that guy? Are you still talking to him?" It's nice to have someone remember stuff you've mentioned. I tried to return the favor and ask her about the farm where she volunteers and her job that she hates.

Another happy moment happened today when my new roommate tried to scare me when I was poking around in the fridge. She came up beside me and was like, "BOOO!" and I just turned around and gave her a weird look. She's not very sneaky, but otherwise a really fun person. I almost went with her last weekend to get a tattoo, but her friend (who was going to give her a tattoo for free) was busy when we went, so we just ended up sitting in the kitchen talking all night.

Anyway, I guess I'm trying to paint a picture of the dysfunctional family that makes up the house-and-adjoining-apartments where I live. There's an eccentric 30-something guy who leaves everybody notes and bizarre presents (he showed up at my house one day with a drugstore keychain that said "Kimberly"). There's an agorophobic guy who is always ready to tell you his latest adventures in playing Final Fantasy. There's a wacky garden with herbs, random wildflowers, strawberries, and the BIGGEST DANDELION ON EARTH. There's homeless guys that show up randomly (one guy ran into the wall next to my kitchen the other day. He collapsed against it and fell asleep half propped on it, forty of malt liquor in his hand. I'm so jaded that I just checked to see if he seemed to be ok, and went back to eating my sandwich). Anyway, what I'm saying is, I'm slowly getting a social foothold in this town, but now I'm pulling myself out of it. Can I really handle uprooting again?

The age-old question rears its head again - whether tis nobler to take a menial job while working on artistic pursuits, and living in a great town that inspires you, or to live in a lamer town, working on semi-artistic pursuits while still doing the more artistic stuff in your spare time.

I keep thinking that if I leave Iowa City I'm selling out somehow, that I'm not the beatnik I need to be to really be a musician. But am I really going to be able to not kill the stupid high school/college kids I work with at my menial job, and still have time to do the things I love? Something's gotta give.

On the other hand the idea of being a teacher scares me because I think I'll go all soft and corny ( I know, I already AM soft and corny), and I'll never have the balls I have now, to live on a shoestring and chase my dreams, with nothing to lose.

Today, I am an Iowan

Today I went to the library, intent on checking my email, and there were a bunch of volunteers sitting there, because it was a voting site for the primary election. Now, I had two glasses of wine before I left the house, so I smiled chummily at the old lady standing there, walked up, and said, "Can you check if I'm registered?? I really have no idea!" The volunteers, though probably not terribly impressed with my level of civic responsibility, dutifully looked up my name. "Yes!" one said. "But you have to go to the senior center." Not to be thwarted by mere geography, I trooped up the hill, arms swinging a bit too merrily, and grabbed a newspaper on the ped mall, to find out who to vote for. I made it to the Senior Center with 15 minutes to spare, and exercised my rights and responsibilities as an American.

Voting drunk...I really am turning into an Iowan...