A Day for Imaginary Things: a Guest Post by Tangled Lou

"Abstract" by Patrick Kelly

...and here she is! I'm so excited. Much thanks to the fabulous and talented bloggers who organized Leap Blog Day, an exciting and befuddling event where your favorite bloggers show up in different places for a single day. Today's post is written by the talented (and anonymous) Tangled Lou, my very best imaginary friend. When you are done here, come and read me over at her blog, Periphery, where I am sharing my thoughts on why the Russians want big melons. Have a fabulous Leap Day!

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Today is an imaginary day. It's a day for imaginary things. I am an imaginary person who lives in your computer and I have crashed this space in order to celebrate this imaginary day. Tara is one of my favorite imaginary friends and she has been kind enough to let me befoul her space for the day.

In the fourth grade, which was not imaginary but might as well have been, my teacher's preferred method of teaching was to hand out sheaves of purple-inked dittoed papers on various topics and then sit at her desk while we filled in the worksheets. Sometimes I can still smell them. It is the smell of burgeoning discontent, the first prickling of awareness that not all adults were competent, and a whiff of guilt for figuring these things out when I should really just be doing my ditto papers like a good girl.

My least favorites were the science papers. It wasn't the subject matter, it was that out of either laziness or apathy, the teacher never removed the answer key from the bottom of the paper before running them off.  A less industrious student would simply have to look at the bottom of the paper and circle all of the correct answers without ever learning a thing. I could not do this. It drove me nuts when my classmates did this. I would sit and resolutely not look at the answer key while I tried to concentrate on the little blurb of information from which the answers were drawn directly. It was from one of these blurry indigo worksheets that I first learned about the leap year. And it blew my little mind.

There comes a time in every girl's life when she has to face the fact that the Earth revolves around the sun once every 365 and a quarter days. What? There are just six extra hours a year, hanging out unaccounted for until we just lump them all together and call them an extra day? What? How can this be? You can't just save them up and spend them every four years, can you?! They are there, happening each year. These little dangly bits hanging off the ends of otherwise symmetrical days. We just sweep them aside for a few years and then screw with February. With February! Everybody knows that February is the longest month of the whole year even though it has the least number of days. So let's just give that dustbin of a month an extra day every now and then.

I remember asking my teacher why we couldn't just ignore that little extra bit of time every year and not confuse things by adding extra days here and there. Or if perhaps we could lengthen the days a bit on the whole and then all would be accounted for. She stared at me with bovine eyes and told me to go sit down. Clearly, cataclysmic things would happen if we did that. Things of which you do not speak to uppity 4th graders. Things so dreadful she had to excuse herself to go out for a smoke and leave the door open to the adjoining classroom so that the neighboring teacher would be available to scare us to death should there be any shenanigans. Thus it was at the tender age of nine, my mind was warped in regard to both authority and chronological time in the same few month stretch.

Leap Day is an imaginary day. It is a day made up of leftovers and bits and pieces that didn't fit into other days. We have a spare day this year somehow. How will you spend your extra time? Can I save mine and use it in the summer when it's less muddy and the kids are out of school? Can I dole it out an hour at a time on those days that I'm running just a little late? Can I add those random spare moments to extend the ones that are so perfect and full of presence and life that I need them to be just a few seconds longer? Can I store up those extra hours in a jar on the shelf and redeem them at the end of a loved one's life for just a few more days with them? Can I give mine away to people who might need them more than I do? Apparently it's OK to save up the extra time and stick a random day in February by some sort of international consensus, but not for individuals to save them up and use as they see fit. Communist jerks.

I guess that means I'll just have to pay attention to all of my moments and use them as well as I can. Here's what I think, though. Those little dangly bits at the end of each day? Mere seconds a day that are "off the clock". You can catch them when they happen. They happen in those few moments between sleep and waking from a delicious dream. They happen in the tiniest catch in your breath when you see your love's face. They happen in those rare seconds when everything slows down and you just are. They come like little tinkling bells in the wee hours of the morning. They come as a stroke of inspiration in the middle of something mundane. They come as a laugh to yourself, the brush of a hand, a bit of eye contact, the moment a project is finished, a secret smile. They slip into every day in such varied and personal and magical ways, if only you watch for them. You can collect them like fireflies and you don't even have to wait for once every four years in February to use them.

I think these are the cataclysmic things that my 4th grade teacher refused to tell me. It would alter the course of the universe if we all taught children how to live with contentment, grasping what is beautiful out of each day. Best to go out for a smoke, instead. It's not on the ditto sheets.

My Husband is Saving the World with Faith in Ambiguity

Updated 1/16: I included the YouTube of his sermon below, so now you can actually watch it.

Despite being very annoying, and having a strange sense of humor, my husband sometimes does cool things.

One cool thing he is doing is delivering this sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Santa Fe today.

He has written a lot of very good sermons, all of which can be found on his blog, All Things Reasonable, but this one is the best so far.

It is the best both because of his amazing development as a writer, which I can't say enough about, and because he is so right about what he is saying.

We live in a world where everyone thinks they know a bunch of things that they actually don't know. And so we fight with our spouses and kids. And so we go to war. And so our political system is broken. We don't know how to separate what we know from what we believe.

What might be possible if we could do this one, critical thing?

How My NaBloPoMo Butt Was Saved Today By Aunt Becky's Meme

Let me start by explaining to you that I currently have a world class migraine. This sad fact should definitely exempt me from any expectations that anyone might have related to my actually posting anything today, NaBloPoMo notwithstanding.

However, even more sadly, I suffer from another chronic disorder, known as Compulsive Integrity Syndrome, the result of which is that it will still not be OK with me to have forgone posting, despite the fact that I can’t see normally out of my right eye and I have forgotten how to spell and understand English. Integrity is an asshole.

But all this is OK now because the brilliant Aunt Becky has posted a meme that I can rip off. It is all part of God’s plan for me. Thank you, Aunt Becky, for helping Jesus do his work.

This is not really Jesus. It's my husband.

1) What does Meme mean?

I have up until now assumed that everyone knows this but me. It is a word that sounds simultaneously pretentiously French and like an office store product. Perfumed French memo pads, perhaps.

2) 2011 – Was it all you’d hoped it would be? 

I can't answer this. I never bother to hope for years to have any overarching theme or progress. This seems like a recipe for disappointment. I can only handle life in week long chunks. This week I have been sick, so it sucked.

3) Did you watch the Royal Wedding?

I totally didn’t. I am the world’s worst girl. I hate princesses, weddings, hats, and TV. I will turn in my vagina tomorrow.

4) Where are your pants?
On my body, and, thanks to the miracle of Topomax, they now fit again. Actually, it’s more like the miracle of being taken off Amytriptaline. One pill makes you larger, one pill makes you small…

5) Is Justin Bieber human or some sort of robot?

I have three boys and no girls, which means all I know about Justine Bieber is that to look like him is to be marked for death. (I believe I may be missing some context.)

6) If you had only one thing to wish for this coming year, what would it be?

I wish that no one in my immediate family will develop any more specific mental or physical ailments. Mostly because I am tired of searching Google for prescription side effects.

7) Would you call yourself a “social media maven?”

Would that imply that I understand the difference between Twitter, Tumblr, a widget and a midget? Short answer: No.

8 ) If you had to take three things to a desert island (let’s assume you have ample food and water), what would they be?

1. My medications (Oh, I’m sorry, is my fibromyalgia coming, too? ‘Cuz, if not, I’m totally OK without the meds.)
2. The internet
3. Awesome knee high socks

9) If you had the ability to banish certain offenses to an island where they would be rehabilitated into being okay again, what would those offenses be?

1. Misuse of apostrophe s
2. Watching reality TV
3. Telling me, when I reference overwhelming observable evidence, that we are all entitled to our opinion

10) How do YOU think the air conditioner works?

My husband puts it in place, turns it on and fixes it when it breaks. That's all I need to know. Except that we don't have air conditioning.

11) Do you ACTUALLY think you can make money blogging?

I am still pretending that this will be possible. Many people believe in things such as Ouija boards, faith healing and the power of positive thinking. I believe in Internet Money Fairies.

12) There’s a lot of talk in the blog world about microblogging (The Tumblr, The Twitter, The Facebook) taking over traditional blogs. Do you think that’s the case?

I am too stupid to comment on this item except to say that I think that microblogging sounds like a clever terrorist scheme to spread Ebola across the internet.

13) If you could give one piece of advice to your younger self, what would it be?

Finish college, you asshole. Stop acting like you have all the time in the world to do whatever you want. You are just about to get sucked into the Mommy Wormhole and you will never get out again. Run for your life!

14) If you could’ve told yourself this time last year one thing, what would it be?

Fasten your seatbelt. Those pains in your joints are not just about to get better. And, by the way, good instinct starting that blog.

15) If you could have one Super Power, what would it be?

Completing an entire day of Google Calendar task lists without getting off the internet.

16) If you could do one thing you can’t currently do, and do it well, what would it be?

Remember how to take photographs. I mean, I got an A in a college Photography class. How is it that I can’t remember what shutter speed, aperture, and F-Stop even mean?

17) What surprises you about yourself?

That, when I allow myself to be self-expressed, I swear like a sailor and dress like a second grade girl stranded on Haight Street. Who knew?

18) What was your favorite blog post/tweet of the past year?

Mine: And now even my front yard has ADHD

Someone else’s: And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.

19) Do you REALLY think “Purple Should Be A Flavor?”

No, if purple was a flavor it would just be one more thing I couldn't eat or drink, along with flour, sugar, alcohol and dairy. Who needs it?

20) If you could make one outlandish wish for 2012, what would it be?

I want to be discovered and become a famous writer. Or just famous enough to replace my fast food worker instructional assistant income. Not that I’d quit. I just want to know I can. Because then my job will know I can leave anytime and will really want me, and that will make our relationship hotter and more romantic. I'm totally in it for the romance.

My Husband is Saving the World Through Non-Violent Communication

While I am blogging about what a psycho I am and how my head hurts and whether or not I can manage to get through the day without a major fuck-up of some kind, my husband is writing letters to mayors, in order to change the world through non-violent communication.

But I am still a much better cook. So there.

Apparently, we are now going to have the 1960s again because they were so much fun the first time, and some of us were pissed that we missed out.

Anyway, it turns out I am NOT imagining it and police are ACTUALLY "using teargas, flash bang grenades and rubber bullets against unarmed and peacefully assembled Occupy Oakland (Wall Street) protesters", to quote my husband.

If I have to live through this, I think I should also get to see Jimi Hindrix live at Woodstock.

Holy Shit.

P.S. Read his letter.

This photo seems to have been taken during the riots which followed the Rodney King verdict. I have not been able to find the name of the photographer.

My husband says these amazing, insightful, horrifying true things to people.

My husband delivered a Forum (not a sermon, but more of a speech followed by discussion) at our church this last Sunday on 9/11. Below is a link to the text format of that address. His talk was about the lessons of September 11, 2001, and where we are ten years later. They asked him to talk because they knew that he would say something unexpected, brilliant and provocative. I agree. I was afraid it would be too provocative, so I was hiding upstairs in a room full of middle school kids. Once I found out that no one had stood up during his talk and threatened to hurt him, I was sort of sad I missed it.

I think Mike is really smart, and not just because he can do all my sewing and computer maintenance. He is one of those people that really says all of the things that you think of saying to other people, or groups, but you never do because you are afraid they will all hate you. Wait, I'm talking about myself...

You should read his blog.

This is the logo for Unitarian Church of Los Alamos, 
designed by the brilliant and talented Kristine Coblentz.

September 11

 
The tenth anniversary of September 11 is not funny.

There is no kind of snarky remark I could make about this that would be worth making. It is a shattering memory.

At the time that it happened, I didn't have cable. It was only years later that I saw the video images. I did, however, hear the voices of people in the street, played unedited on KPFA. It filled me with grief. And, in that, moment, I felt connected with every human being who has ever witnessed the thoughtless terrorism of war.

The event fit neatly into an impression on my soul already left by something I had seen when I was nine or ten, peering undetected into a room where adults watched television; a documentary on Hiroshima, an animation, wherein a child was left clutching a mother's hand, off of which skin fell like a cast off shell, a baby bathing who was suddenly and instantly distorted into a grotesque creature with its eyeball falling out of its socket. Melting. People. Melting. The animation began with an image of children pointing at an airplane overhead, the way children do.

For years, every airplane overhead called to mind the thought of nuclear annihilation. I was confronted viscerally by a horror and evil I had never been able to fully imagine before.

And, on September 11, 2001, I was again in the presence of horror and evil. It occurred to me then, with a deep sadness, that this kind of horror unites anyone in the world struck by the misfortune to live through its occurring.

It makes me deeply, deeply sad about being human, and at the same time, moved by my own experience of compassion.

What else can you say? What else is there to say?

Here is poem by my mother, the inimitable Bronwyn  "B" Gordon:

So sure of the necessity,

The people who order these deaths;

All the horrified Japanese women,

All the terrified Vietnamese children,

Running and burning, burning and dissolving

Into charcoal silhouettes, into ash...

And the people in the North Tower,

And the people in the South Tower,

Pragmatically and ideologically speaking --

In the righteous minds of the powerful,

All necessary deaths.