#wintsh 19. Write a poem using an emblem structure

Tall green plant that reaches high into the sky
Skinny bright green leaves jut from a stem
Chartreuse, lime, kelly porcupine prickly points
Reaching for the blueness of a western summer day

Proud, don’t touch me, leaves skewer the blue
Sending a message that this being is so much
More than other lesser plants

This is Pacita Abad’s work.  I forget what it’s called. In any case, I’m completely wild about it. 

So I took this idea to the art studio today with kids aged 6-11, I think. And this is what happened. Love.  Also. I can handle a drill.  Who knew.

And I found I have a new skill.  An awesome skill that will take me far into this fine world.  With my own eyes closed, I can “hear” when a kid is rolling their eyes at me.  Not making this up. 

Another project from today. One from a kid and one that I made.  The glue gets washed away.

#wintsh21. Take a poem you have previously written and revise it by putting the images in reverse to see how it changes the poem. (Cheater pants prompt for a busy week.)

For the People?

The decision rests solely in the heart of a furry creature
For whom mercy may not even be a consideration.
The moon faces the day, intent on his own concerns.
The god eyes in the mountain look upon the scene:
An observer only
The predator ponders:
Is it mercy or control that motivates his plan
The lamb silently waits-
Carefree and ambivalent
Drugged and impotent

This is the original version:

Even though I kept the same words and only changed the order, I think it does change the poem.  What do you think?  I think it makes the lamb seem far more foolish and the minotaur more manipulative.  I can’t decide which version I prefer.

Based on this @aloysius son work “minotaur and lamb”

I recommend going somewhere else.

#wintsh 3. Write a flash fiction using the words: fish, interstate, diamond, telepathy, Jupiter, longing, freckles.

The tour bus swam on the interstate, a shark amongst the car fish.  The passengers safely riding in comfort, excited for their upcoming lacrosse game.  Most excited of all was the head coach, swollen with pride for her team and with a baby growing inside. She gazed at the diamond from her loving husband, and then at the photo of her small son, full of energy and spunk. Her life fulfilled the longings of her youth, when she was covered in freckles from the sun and sweat from her sport. Telepathy gave her no clue.

Jupiter made other plans.  The shark slid into a reef.  She died.

Here’s the article.  This was the first thing I heard on the radio this morning.
http://www.pennlive.com/midstate/index.ssf/2013/03/coroners_officer_said_one_preg.html

#wintsh 13. Create a piece inspired by imagining the life of someone you read about in the obituaries.

She was a beautiful woman
Not necessarily standard beauty
But her smile was infectious
Her words were an inspiration
She made kids want to learn.
Surely her home was filled
With love and cheer
Her two sons, active and bright.
And then one day, this 39 year old woman,
Apparently healthy and strong,
Died in her basement
Running on a treadmill.
Her sons and husband shocked
And abandoned.

This was written about Spawn’s middle school PE teacher who died.  I started thinking about her this morning when I heard the news above.  I wouldn’t have been surprised if today had been the anniversary of her death.  Not.  Two years next week. The whole community was shocked by her death.  Spawn puts flowers on her grave at Memorial Day.

There is something so sad about a young child losing a parent.  (And a parent losing a child- but that is not my melancholy focus today.)

As I explained to Spawn and Spouseman where I was going with this, they did completely synchronized head bobbing.  You know what that means.

#wintsh A piece inspired by the following piece of art by Carolyn Coalson “Traveling into green as far as I can go”

I made sure to tell LittleLoudOne in different words.  She doesn’t participate in synchronized head bobs.  Here’s the part where I tell you what was in my head (which as usual is not how it came out. Nonetheless…)  In the green thing, I see stalactites in a cave.  Caves are made of rock and stalactites are formed by water dripping.  So… the chick is supposed to look stone-ish.  (not necessarily stoned) 

The stoned chick is fretting.  This too shall pass.

fireworks

#wintsh 42. A piece inspired by the this piece of art “Feet of Clay” by Carolyn Coalson

I feel a little silly, but nobody said that what I was inspired to create had to be all that.  I looked at the original and thought of fireworks. So that’s where I went.  Didn’t come out how it started in my head, but nothing ever does.

My sign for today

Today was a very exciting day.  Our schedule was all different because of a field trip.  I love a little shake up.  I decided yesterday that I was going to be excited today because I needed to be.  And I was.  This project has been far less about other people having insight into my frame of mind and more about my view of myself.  It felt good to wear “excited”.

For the first time, I wore a sign out where I’d run into strangers.  The lady at the fabric store definitely noticed it.  She looked twice (and somewhat quizzically), but said nothing.

Big, fun weekend coming up and an eventful week after that.  Woo hoo.

Excited. not exciting. 

This new little game is exasperating. How much fun to boost up the action of eXanga by rating people’s sites ex so that we have to have this mad dash of rating our friends sites and stuff.  And if you really want to help, you have to fill out a paper and send it snail mail to prove that you are legally old enough to look at a site that shouldn’t be ex rated in the first place.  Tell me that Xanga doesn’t know our birthdays anyhow.  I’m pretty freaking sure I had to give my birthday when I opened the account.  Yes, people can lie.  But I guarantee, my birthdate is out there in cyberspace somewhere.  You don’t need a copy of a document (which is probably also out there someplace) to prove anything. 

And once I send in the form (what the heck will they do with that piece of tree anyhow and who has time to update these files and so on and so on), then I’d have to go to every blight on the universe- sorry, every person who’s been tagged by the sad ex-cuse for a blogger who is having this fun to rate them not ex but A.  Hooray.  Because there is nothing more useful than a rating system which actually means NOTHING.

Also I’m torn.  Because apparently, I’m well on my way to being a blight on the universe.  Indeed I did write a raunchy poem or two.  Here one is, can’t find the others: dirty poem read only if you want to read a dirty poem Certainly my warning label at the top is ambiguous.  You may not know that it’s raunchy just by reading the warning.  If you want to, read my raunchy, be offended, rate it an ex and life will be grand.  On the other hand, you could read the warning and move on,your sensibilities intact.  However, if you feel inclined to rate one of my little powder puff posts ex.  Wow. Good for you. 

Anyhow. Like I said, I’m torn.  Do I ask people to fix my rating?  I don’t know if I even want to go there.  I just want to write my drivel and get on with my life.  Sure I’d miss a lot of you.  But I have enough bullshit in my life. 

This rating system is dumb.  Shutting people down because you feel like it is petty. Also if we’re going to be ridiculous, a premium membership should pay for ex protection.

It is quite simple, really.

You choose the glass that seems most palatable.  It can be a dirty window pane- the only thing between you and another cold, winter day. A patterned jelly jar emptied of all its sweetness.  A thick Coke bottle from a special date long ago.  The protection over your favorite photo, no longer doing its job.  A mirror that shows what you feel instead of what others may see. 

Then you throw that glass onto the ground.  Throw it hard, otherwise it may not break.  It also helps to say certain words that aid in the breaking of many things.  Loudly.  Once the glass is in manageable pieces, you are then able to stomp and crush it with your shoes.  Do not be delicate.  This is not a job for delicacy.  This is a job of crunching, mashing, scratching, pulverizing.  The smallest bits are the most delicious.

Once you are satisfied that your glass is of the perfect consistency, carefully sweep it up.  You don’t want to damage your meal.  Place the glass on a beautiful plate and garnish as you choose.  I prefer a sprig of annoyance, a clove of anger, a spray of venom.  A dash of “how could you do this to me” to add flavor.

Spoon it in.  Dinner is served.

#winsh 8. Write a story entitled “How to Eat Glass.”

It says “cranky”.  LLO reminded me last night at 10:30 that she had to make cookies for Spanish class.  Miffed, I was.  But the cookie dough was pretty easy to do and put in the fridge for morning baking.  She decided that she would set an alarm to get up at 6 to finish the job.  I was mildly stunned that she was going to set an alarm.  I woke up this morning as the world’s smallest ferret was trying to chew my finger while I waited for some pokey kid to clean an aquarium.  And that was annoying.  Then I see all the lights on in the house.  This seemed an odd thing.  So I went looking.  Sort of.  Wasn’t wearing my glasses and I’m pretty darn blind and not real lucid in the first place.  Found the culprit.  LLO in full ‘tude, who greeted her beloved mother with “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to wake up.”  Cookie slicing, baking, sprinkling with powdered sugar ensued.  LLO seems to be trained in using the timer, which was helpful.  Since I’m not and I’m notorious for burning cookies as I find exciting things to do in between batches.  Then I had to do the driving duty.  LLO managed to miss the bus and Spawn always wants a ride.  And the schools are not close to each other and the timing is just the way it needs to be to maximize driving duty.  I didn’t get my usual slow wakey wakey with two cups of joe and social networking.  So when it was time to make my necklace of mood for the day, it was obvious.  Cranky all the way.

In fact, it was cranky all the way. I was short-tempered with the kids.  One of my friends at work, who doesn’t like my necklace project and I really couldn’t tell you why, was disdainful of today’s.  I was quite tempted to say “bite me.”  The things that happen all the time were unacceptable today.  The words I repeat ad nauseum were just too much effort today.  Children spilling milk was a capital offense.  Or capitol. Whichever.  And when I got triple cherry yogurt instead of banana strawberry with my lunch, I was done.

When I got home from work, I ripped that thing off.  Because it appears that focusing on a mood that is negative is bound to perpetuate that negativity.  Imagine that.  The next question is, if I make a sign for the mood I want, will I get it.

Albatross.  You know.

#winsh 4. Write a poem entitled “Sea Water.”

This was supposed to be an octelle. Interesting in that it’s a made-up poetry form (which I suppose they all are) and that I actually misinterpreted my notes.  Darn it.  Anyhow.  It’s an aabbccaa rhyming pattern, with 88777788 syllable count, with personification and metaphor and junk.  The first two and last two are supposed to be identical. Obviously I thought it was first and last only.  So sue me.

The sign project: Confused

What I’ve noticed:

I don’t appear to want to reveal my mood.  The back of that cardboard is white, I’m deliberately using the brown side.  I hid my word in amongst all that curly color.  What is the point of wearing a sign if it’s not immediately clear what it says.  I find that curious.

People are cool with my signs.  I had two people tell me today that they wished they had my “really sleepy” sign.  I had another person tell me that she is thinking of doing signs too.  I did have someone ask if I had the same mood all day.  Luckily today and yesterday, my signs have quite adequately represented me.  I’m hopeful that I’ll be more moody later this week. (Really I’m saying I hope I’m less tired and confused.)  Also, kids are very cool with them.  I had some wish out loud that they could have them or wonder if this was a project we’d be doing later.  Good idea, I must say.  I will have to ponder that.

Still got hugs.

Didn’t feel so silly wearing it and I was out and about far longer today than yesterday.

So @C_L_O_G and I had this wondering about what would happen if people wore signs that actually showing their feelings.  Would we treat people differently if we could tell what they were thinking or going through or such.  Today’s necklace.  Isn’t it pretty?

I was really well-labeled today.  I slept on the wrong side of the bed Saturday night. And then had some sort of who-knows-what going on last night.  So.  Really Sleepy. Of course I left my coffee on the kitchen table. Again.  So the whole day without any artificial intelligence.

I said “boo clubes” about 5 times in a row.  (If you don’t speak 1st grade math, it was supposed to be “blue cubes”.)  I think I told someone to white on the board. I do not think I caused any permanent harm. I figured out how we could make parachuting men, so that’s pretty good.  I’ve expanded my smiley face repertoire to include aliens and clowns. 

Anyhow. Sign results.

People didn’t notice that I was any sleepier than usual.  Which might be an indication that I can fake it pretty well.  Or that I’m always barely functioning.  I felt a little silly wearing my sign.  Most of the time I am pretty silly, so I suppose it’s ok.

Kids thought it was great.  I got lots of hugs.  Who needs adequate sleep when you can get hugs.

Here’s hoping that tomorrow is an actual feeling rather than a state of being.

Not good.  No alarm set this morning.  Which I didn’t know.  Also it’s not usually a problem. I’m an early riser.  At least the clock was set to the right time, so that I knew when it said 8:00 that it was actually 8:00.  And not 9:00.  Or is it the other way?  I still get it confused.  Anyhow. 

8:00 was bad.  Because the things I didn’t do for this morning last night still had to be done and Spawn needed to be there at 8:30 and I needed to be there at 8:45.  Panic ensued.  And other scary things.  Because panic required “mechanical” laughter.  That’s what I called it.  And I nearly brushed my teeth with hand soap.  Lavender.  Yummy.  And then I told Spouseman that he should raze his face.  Seriously. Why do you shave with a razor. 

It wasn’t just me.  ‘Cause when Spouseman dropped me off (10 minutes late), he forgot to wait for me to get completely out of the car before starting to drive off.  Naturally that made me laugh too.   Mechanically.

When I got home finally a long time later, I took a big honking nap.  Awoke in time to not look stoned when the cops knocked on the door. (big naps make me stupid)  But that’s another story.

I feel like I lost a lot more than an hour this weekend.

That’s not a deep statement.  Just that I don’t know where the weekend went.

Yesterday was beautiful.  Or maybe this was Friday afternoon.