postcard: 1234...5

you doggedly, patiently strive
and in the meantime, in this
strip mall shoe box, make community
remember names, swap stories
enable pursuits of happiness

http://nbwhoop.tumblr.com/post/33135907264/12345

postcard: self portrait

What do you get when you cross a persistent, idealistic 20-year-old prone to indignation with the pragmatic version almost twice that age? Me.
I am not the woman my younger self envisioned. I am so much better and so much worse. We cohabit my brain, alternately disappointed with our spineless ultimatums, and impatient with our simplistic if-thens.
Writing helps the truce building. Beyond, because of, or in spite of all this (and depending on the realm), I'm a catalyst, a buffer, a connector, a cleaner, and a creator.
Hi.

http://nbwhoop.tumblr.com/post/33136402895/self-portrait

copacetic

cope pathetic

quagmire

What a sham. But sham implies that we’re fooling someone. Truth is no one is close enough to us to allow any scrutiny. In-laws aren’t fooled because they knew the mess before I hitched my wagon to it. My modes of coping are familiar to them. Familial. Spending so much time in their lives provides a 360 degree, past-present-future view of my quagmire.

musical sweet spot

Like all the stereotypical birth plan clasping mommies-to-be, I also brought with me to the hospital an mp3 player filled with songs to provide a soundtrack to my birth. It is a near-perfect blend of songs, if I do say so myself. The nurses and doula liked it, too, for what that's worth. The plan didn't do me much good, but the same player is now perched in my son's room and the playlist has become the soundtrack to his good night routine.

I don't play it every night. Most times it's a book or three or four, my endearing (sugar coat code for "off-key, but with love") rendition of a few songs, then it's into the crib for mi calabaza. I usually cue up the music when he's especially squirmy. There are 80+ songs and he doesn't like them all. Some can make him cry, like Feist's The Water or Beth Nielsen Chapman's Ave Maria, so I skip those. (It's sweet, but a little heartbreaking that he's affected that way.)

After many many listenings, I've determined the sweet spot smack dab in the middle of the mix:
41. 9 Crimes by Damien Rice (and Lisa Hannigan)
42. I'll Fly Away performed by Alison Krauss and Gilian Welch
43. Empty by Ray Lamontagne

I think it's the stark piano in 9 Crimes that nabs him. Then the bounce and joy of I'll Fly Away. The roll and strum of Empty carry him off. The kid doesn't stand a chance.

the grass is greener
smile is warmer
attraction stronger
patience boundless
kindness generous
attention whole
respect unwavering
favor unconditional
mercy ready
faith staunch
interest earnest
mind receptive
touch perceptive

the grass is greener
fertilized with bullshit.

library humor

Yes, there is such a thing. [From here.]

point of contention

"Certainly, not every woman who had a C-section is going to feel this way — and I’m glad of that, otherwise there would be at least 31.7% of women last year who were as traumatized in body and spirit as this apple was brutalized, which would be unconscionable. It’s horrific enough that even one woman feels this way, much less every woman. This can be a point of contention among post-C-section women — some women can’t understand why others feel victimized by the same surgery that they had no problems with, or were even grateful for. Perhaps this image will help everyone who does not have negative feelings about C-sections (or other birth trauma) understand those who do."
From here.