Drill

The other day we tested the new fire alarm at Aquinata.

The old one sounded like a doorbell or a mellow cell phone.

The new installment is properly aggravating, but the "ding dong" of the old alarm still rings ironically above it.

During the fire drill, Sister Kathi brought out hot chocolate and a charcoal grill, over which we roasted marshmallows.

Best fire drill ever.

How can I keep from singing

Driving without music is weird for me. Since my car radio is broken, I tend to sing a cappella a lot when I'm traveling. The oddest snippets of songs emerge out of the silence. Today, a few lines of an old hymn that happens to describe this urge to sing:

"My life flows on in endless song...
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul--
How can I keep from singing?"

Lazy Day

Sometimes, instead of doing anything productive, you decide to watch Harry Potter on TV.

You know you might regret it later.

But you probably won't.

Crip Power!

Crip Theory: Cultural Signs of Queerness and Disability by Robert McRuer is a queer reading of disability studies (or is it a disability reading of queer theory?...not sure, but so interesting!).

Here's a quote cited in the first chapter from Gloria Anzaldua, a black feminist, from her 1981 book This Bridge Called My Back:

"We are the queer groups, the people that don't belong anywhere, not in the dominant world nor completely within our own respective cultures. Combined we cover so many oppressions. But the overwhelming oppression is the collective fact that we do not fit, and because we do not fit we are a threat."

Jon has complained about "not fitting." I wonder if he has ever considered this as a form of power.

God Hates Fags?

I think the Sister I see for spiritual direction (a member of the Catholic church who leads me in Buddhist meditations and believes she might meet a Muslim in heaven) is an LGBT ally.

There is hope for this world!

Synchronicity?

On Monday night, I dreamed of ghosts. My dream self, like my real self, puts little stock in the paranormal. While inside a purportedly "haunted" house, my dream self dared the ghosts to prove their existence.

Something physical, I qualified. Make me levitate.

In a split second, I was upside down, suspended by my hair. This vivid sensation remained with me when I woke up.

On Monday afternoon when I started my car, my very-much-demolished casette player spoke. This tape player ate my CD/MP3 converter four months ago. My brother, in taking it apart to fix it, broke the radio too. Unable to extract the tape, he left the entire console disassembled and left for college. I driven hundreds of miles in complete silence since.

Two days ago, when I turned the key, the car meekly surrendered the tape.

Unwilling to challenge anything that might grab me by the hair, I accepted the offering with a "thank you."

I may have heard the faintest echo of a chuckle.

Advent Alive

Yesterday was the beginning of Advent, the 25 day season of anticipation, longing, and waiting before Christmas. At Anchester House (which is named after the street, by the way), we reflected on a passage from Isaiah. My favorite lines: "we are withered like leaves"--which is how I feel in winter at the end of a semester (limp, worn out, sucked dry)--and "we rouse to cling to you." I love the word "rouse," the idea of getting up in the middle of the night, of becoming more childlike, more alive. And "cling"--hold me, God. Hold me together in the busyness. Keep me alive.