We're Moving!

After years of intermittent blog posts here at blogger, I'll be continuing my sporadic storytelling on wordpress. Find me here if you'd like to keep up with the adventuring.

Love always,
micahmouse

2016: Two Weeks in Books

Last year bid me farewell by sending me into this one with a raging head cold. I can finally breathe through my nose again, and it no longer feels like I've swallowed a cheese grater. Hurrah.

Happy New Year from the southern wilds of West Virginia and the Coolest Small Town in America (2011)! Here we are at the start of another ring around the sun and already I've over-committed my reading, but so far, it's going all right.

Last year, I posted this list of twenty-four books I planned to read, and I only got through four of them. My reading veered in other directions to forty-eight books not on that list. Oh, well.

I'm not going to write a list this year. I'm going to go where the reading leads me. I did set a Reading Challenge goal on goodreads, and I've read one book toward that goal so far and started three others. In case you're curious, here they are.

The Book I've Read

Empty Mansions: The Mysterious Life of Huguette Clark and the Spending of a Great American Fortune by Bill Dedman and Paul Clark Newell, Jr. explores the world of American heiress Huguette Clark, daughter of copper magnate and politician W.A. Clark. Toward the end of her life, Ms. Clark lived in a hospital despite her good health and exquisite homes. Dedman and Newell discuss the family history, Ms. Clark's eccentricities, and the legal battle over her fortune after her death in 2011. Engaging, detailed, and offering a literal glimpse into Ms. Clark's life through family photographs, Empty Mansions takes the reader on a strange journey and is well worth the read.

The Books I'm Reading

I'll confess. I'm reading Gloria Steinem's My Life on the Road because of Our Shared Shelf, Emma Watson's feminist reading group on goodreads. Ninety-six pages in, I'm hooked. Ms. Steinem weaves her own story together with that of the feminist movement as she's experienced it, as well as with the stories of those people who have had some impact, great or small, on her journey thus far.

I happened upon this copy of Will You Miss Me When I'm Gone? by Mark Zwonitzer with Charles Hirshberg in a pile of free things and wasn't sure I'd get around to reading it. Halfway through, the book has traveled from rural Appalachia to New York City to southern Texas. From family harmony to near-disastrous discord, the story of The Carter Family, unknown to most of their listeners in the first half of the twentieth century, endures through their music, which lives on in their own recordings and in covers by dozens of musicians since.

Essays of E.B. White has been sitting on my bookshelf for over a year probably. I picked it up on the last day of a library book sale because I've always liked Charlotte's Web so I thought I'd like his essays just as well. They meander through various aspects of living. I cried over "Death of a Pig" and laughed over other parts. It's slow going, not through any fault of its own but because I've been distracted by other reading.

My other major reading commitment is a Bible in a Year program with my church. We're in Genesis and Matthew now, with a reading from Psalms and Proverbs every day. I'm a day behind and had better catch up so I don't fall a month behind, which is what happened in December.

So there we are. Goodreads tells me I'm a book behind on my reading goal so I'd best get back to it. What are you reading this year? This weekend?

I can't make any promises about regularity of posting or to post anything of great interest. I could write about work, but that would either sound like an ad campaign for upcoming productions or a general lament about the never-ending nature of fundraising, neither of which would be particularly thrilling (though we do have an exciting season lined up, including the world premiere of a new musical and the return of an Emmy Award-winning actor).

In any case, I hope your year did not begin with a raging head cold but that it will involve a variety of interesting reading.

"Currently" Reading

my living room library

My Goodreads account notes that I am "currently reading" ten books, some of which have been on that list well over a year, some longer. Some of them have been on that list long enough that I have read three dozen other books in the meantime.

Here are the books my account thinks I am reading:

from On Writing

On Writing by Stephen King. I am actually reading this book. I have read several pages today and will probably finish it this evening. I recommend this book to anyone who writes or wants to write or wants to get better at writing. King tells his own journey into writing and shares insight into his own writing process. Fascinating stuff.

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. Also reading this. (These early titles are the most recently updated in my list so they are, of course, what I am truly into.) Ferrante delves into the sometimes confusing and haunting events of childhood and follows her characters into adolescence. I've just started the adolescence section. Took a break to read Stephen King.

Selected Stories by Alice Munro. I think I've read three or four pages of this. I took it with me on a long plane trip a couple of weeks ago, with every intention of finishing it. My other books that trip was Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale. I read that instead and have not yet returned to Munro. Earlier this year, I read Munro's Dear Life, also a collection of short stories. Her work moves me. I get lost in the language.

Barefoot Church by Brandon Hatmaker. I picked this up because I've really enjoyed Brandon's wife's work. (Jen Hatmaker has written 7 and Interrupted, among others, I'm sure, but those are the two I've owned. I'm partway through Interrupted, but don't tell Goodreads...) Can't recall why I set this one aside. It sits atop a stack of books on my dresser, most of which I have begun and not finished and none of the rest of which are recorded in this list.

with Hannah, who played Tammy

Tammy Wynette: Tragic Country Queen by Jimmy McDonough. Last summer, a whole year ago now, I performed in a production of Stand By Your Man: The Tammy Wynette Story as young Tammy and a whole host of other characters, including at least two of her daughters. I added this to the collection (along with two other Tammy Wynette biographies) as "research." As you might have guessed, I haven't finished any of them. The show closed September 20, 2014. My motivation is all but gone.

The Mill for Grinding Old People Young by Glenn Patterson. In 2012, I visited a college friend in Ireland and bought three books. (The others were Girl Reading by Katie Ward and The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown, both of which I enjoyed immensely and highly recommend.) I started this so long ago that I don't remember much of it. When I return to the story, I will probably begin again.

Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. My first experience with this author's work compelled me to become a vegetarian (Eating Animals). This book had the unfortunate luck to fall into my lap in the midst of a busy work season. I read about a third of it and returned it to the library. If it's still there, I'll take it home with me this evening.

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. Ah, dear Don Q. Another bit of "research." I didn't even record my progress, but I think I made it more than a hundred pages. Maybe not. The bookmark remains in place, but to summarize: Don Q sets out to do something hare-brained. Sancho tells him that's a bad idea. Don Q does it anyway and is surprised when it ends badly. Rinse and repeat. The musical adaptation by Dale Wasserman & co. is magnificent. I don't know that I'll ever finish the book.

The Strain by Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan. A friend recommended this title to me some time ago, and I read some of it. It's outside my usual reading interest, but I trust this friend's reading habits so I gave it a try.  I remember that it reads much like a novelization of a film, which makes sense considering del Toro's background. In any case, I might go back to it. Perhaps not. I remain undecided.

The End of Poverty by Jeffrey D. Sachs. A meaty economics study with tons of real-world accounts to balance the academic side of things. I'll finish this at some point, but I was sidetracked by fiction.

to read...

Lest the sad state of my "currently" reading list lead you to believe I have not been reading at all, I assure you that I have. Goodreads reports that I have read 35 books this year. Reviewing this list reminds me that I was rather enjoying some of these and might want to revisit them, even if it means starting over at the beginning.

What are you reading?

Micah's Turning 29! (And Hosting a Fundraiser to Celebrate!)

It's My Birthday!
(almost...)

(Cue the shameless self-promotion!)

Photo by Julia Seymour

On March 3, I will turn 29 years old. Wahoo! In celebration of the last year of my twenties, I'm hosting a fundraiser for Greenbrier Valley Theatre, the not-for-profit professional theatre where I work in West Virginia.

With Hannah & Courtney in rehearsal for The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail
at Greenbrier Valley Theatre (2013).

If you think theatre is an awesome way to spend time with friends, engage with important social issues and classic literary works, and learn to connect better with the world around us, this is your chance to help make sure that high-quality theatrical opportunities keep happening in southern West Virginia. Plus, you're helping me reach my fundraising goals!

The Goal: $2,900.00

The Launch: February 3, 2015*

The Deadline: March 3, 2015

(a.k.a. my birthday!)

Here's how you can help:

Step 1: Visit my fundraising page at crowdrise.com.

Step 2: Click the DONATE button.

Step 3: Follow the instructions.

Step 4: Revel in the knowledge that you're making awesome happen in southern West Virginia and also that my birthday is more spectacular because of YOU!

Photo by Lovely Rita, Photographer

This is the dance I will do if you donate to my birthday campaign.

Frequently Asked Questions**

Why did I pick Crowdrise?
They have snarky and hilarious customer service with emails that incorporate words like egregious and besmirchment. Also, they apologize profusely for grammar gaffes, and that amuses me.

Isn't this kind of self-serving?
Yes. But it's my birthday so I hope you'll indulge me.

What if you don't reach your goal?
Greenbrier Valley Theatre gets to keep all of the funds that are donated (minus fees), whether we reach the goal or not!

What if you DO reach your goal?
I'll have the best 29th birthday I could ever have imagined and celebrate the success with a delicious dessert from one of our local eateries. (Okay, I'll do that anyway...)

Do I get anything for donating?
My eternal gratitude and a handwritten thank you note. Optional theatre-related perks are available to donors who give $250 or more. If you want to know about those, give me a call at the theatre (304.645.3838 ext. 110) and I'll tell you all about them. Additional surprises TBD?

How does the theatre get the money?
All donations on Crowdrise will be processed through Network for Good and distributed directly to Greenbrier Valley Theatre. I won't ever see your credit card information. Neither will anyone else at the theatre.

How will the theatre spend my money?
All proceeds from my birthday fundraiser on Crowdrise go toward Greenbrier Valley Theatre's 2015 Annual Campaign and will help underwrite general operating and production expenses so that we can do things like this!

What if I don't want to donate online, but I still want to participate?
You can send a check to:

Greenbrier Valley Theatre
Attn: Micah's Birthday Campaign

P.O. Box 494
Lewisburg, WV 24901

You can also call me at the office and donate by phone using your credit or debit card: 304.645.3838 ext. 110.

Anything else?
Ask me in the comments.

*Technically, the campaign went live on January 23, but active promotion began Feb. 3.
**Okay, so no one has actually asked these questions, but just in case anyone was wondering...

Reading in 2015: A Brief History of Time

In yet another deviation from the reading list, the second new-to-me book of 2015 was Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time. (Have you seen The Theory of Everything yet? No? You should. Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones turn in striking and moving performances as Stephen and Jane Hawking.)

I don't have a lot to see about A Brief History of Time because I'm fairly certain I didn't understand most of it beyond a general comprehension of the words on the page. Still, I don't know if I'll ever be able to watch Doctor Who again without contemplating the feasibility of time travel. However, Hawking writes in an accessible style, and although I found the science intimidating, I still enjoyed the book on the whole and might take another crack at it next year.

Up next: Not sure. Maybe The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.

Why I Keep Arguing with You about Disney Princess Waistlines

Last year, denizens of the Internet debated how "realistic" the waistlines of Disney princesses are. From the "unrealistic" side: Such unreasonable depictions of human bodies send dangerous messages to young girls. From the "realistic" side: People with waists that narrow are uncommon but not impossible, especially because they're wearing corsets.

I saw both sides in my social media feed and, when possible, I joined the discussion. For the record, I'm on the side of reasonable proportions and healthy body image always. I think their waists are unnatural.

First, some privilege-checking. I have a 26.5" waist. I am not a classic hourglass. I am flat-chested and thin-ish, but there are parts of my body that I would change if I could. At the same time, as a small, pretty person, I am very well represented in popular media. When I watch movies and television shows intended for my demographic, I see myself.

With that out of the way, this is why I will keep engaging with this argument even though it gets my hackles up and makes me feel angry and uncomfortable every single time:

• Giving the heroines of the most commonly told stories of childhood one body shape is dangerous. Little girls probably won't say that in so many words, but they'll internalize it, and the multi-billion-dollar beauty industry will reinforce that ideal so that when they grow up into young women, they'll be thoroughly steeped in the idea that to succeed, they have to look a certain way. Regardless of what that look is, it is unrealistic to make all of the "winners" look the same because in real life, they don't.

• A corset does not magically make your waist the size of your neck. I'd have to tighten a corset fourteen inches to make my waist the size of my neck. 14 inches! Even when I pull the measuring tape super tight and squeeze in, I can only get my waist down to 22.5". To be fair, I haven't been training my waist for decades so maybe that's a part of why. Or maybe not. According to the Daily Mail in 2012, burlesque artist Dita von Teese attributed her 22-inch waist to 22 years of wearing corsets, and even she can only squish down to 16.5 inches. That's still 4 inches bigger than my neck! Yes, I understand it is utterly ridiculous to compare my neck to Dita von Teese's corseted waist . . . Oh, wait. That's exactly the point.

• Your disapproval of the word "unrealistic" does not invalidate the argument. Personally, I think the word "unnatural" better describes the proportions of most of the princesses. A corseted waist is not natural; it is manipulated. When such a waist is combined with the generous busts with which many of the princesses are endowed, the resulting figure is indeed unrealistic for the vast majority of women, particularly if they want to maintain their health. In any case, if your concern is more with the word "unrealistic" than it is with the broader argument, change that word to one that is more appealing to you and move on.

• "Historical accuracy" is not a good enough reason. If it's a historical argument (i.e. "Women at that time would have worn corsets."), let's push it one further and give them less-than-perfect teeth and blemished skin and hands calloused from all that housecleaning (I'm looking at you, Cinderella.). I won't accept the "historical accuracy" argument when so much else is deliberately retouched for appeal.

• It's a fairy tale kingdom, whether or not it's reminiscent of the golden days of yore. Who says that the women in wherever it was once upon a time wore corsets anyway? Maybe the beauty standard in fairy land then was broader, and maybe the women decided they were okay with not cinching their waists. Would that be so terrible?

Part of me can't believe we're even still talking about this, but recently, I witnessed a rather vitriolic exchange between two teenagers on Facebook (a curvy gal and a rail-thin guy) so I guess we're not quite through picking apart whether or not Disney princesses have realistic waists. I've rambled on a bit long here and haven't even gotten to the part where cartoon villains often have physical characteristics that are off-putting or absurd or don't conform with modern beauty standards. If that's not just as problematic as this waistline situation, I don't know what is.

Those are my two cents, and I'll just leave them right here.

What do you think? Should we even be worried about how narrow or broad a cartoon's waist is?

Reading in 2015: Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

Unsurprisingly, I deviated from the reading list pretty much immediately thanks to the intriguing cover of Helen Oyeyemi's novel Boy, Snow, Bird.

Intrigued by references to the classic tale of Snow White (mirrors, wicked stepmothers) and drawn in sufficiently by the jacket synopsis, I picked up the novel at the library Friday and finished it just this afternoon. Oyeyemi develops very distinct voices for Boy and Bird, who narrate sections by turn, but Snow remains rather an enigma, known only through her few letters to Bird and through others' (mainly Boy's) observations of her. Perhaps this is purposeful, but as a reader, I wanted to know more about Snow, as much as I wanted to know Boy and Bird.

Unfortunately, loose ends abound, from the mystery of the mirrors to the man who raised Boy. The novel meanders through the workaday events of the characters' lives, making a dramatic reveal right toward the end but then just . . . stopping. I arrived at the end of the novel without any real grasp of what had happened, and maybe that's more a reflection of me as a reader than of the novel itself, but I wanted more.

The exploration of race weaves through the narrative, jumping now to the forefront but then receding in favor of other topics, as happens in reality as well, I suppose. Why, though, place such emphasis on the racial tension faced by the book's central characters only to abandon it for a last-minute, shoddily told conflict involving Boy's father and having nothing to do with race but yes, still involving mirrors and the truths and lies they tell us?

All in all, the novel had great promise but failed to deliver. However, Oyeyemi uses great skill in speaking through distinct character voices with well-paced style. I will likely read another of her books. I've heard good things about Mr. Fox, and I think the library has a copy. For now, a diversion in the form of Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market."

The Books I'm Reading in 2015

Every year, I tell myself, "Under no circumstances are you to acquire more books until you have finished the hundreds that lie around unread on the shelves in your living room!" Every year, I ignore that order, and lo and behold . . . more books! I have no idea how this happens. Okay, I do have some clue. It has to do with paperbackswap, free books, and the local library book sale. These are all dangerous avenues to increasing the library.

It is unlikely I will stop acquiring books. It is a thing that happens and has been happening since before I can remember and will continue happening. So rather than setting a goal about not having more books, I have opted for more specific reading goals. These goals are attached to definite numbers and titles so that I can work my way through the existing living room library.

The broad goal for 2015 is to read two new-to-me books each month. To that end, I have set aside these 24 titles to read:

The Mill for Grinding Old People Young - Glenn Patterson

Flowers for Algernon - Daniel Keyes

The Time Machine - H.G. Wells

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

The Joy Luck Club - Amy Tan

Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh

Jacob's Room - Virginia Woolf

The Hours - Michael Cunningham

Up in the Air - Walter Kirn

My Brilliant Friend - Elena Ferrante

The Edible Woman - Margaret Atwood

Snow Flower & the Secret Fan - Lisa See

The Story of My Life - Helen Keller

Mennonite in a Little Black Dress - Rhoda Janzen

Then Again - Diane Keaton

Tim Tebow: Through My Eyes - Tim Tebow

The Audacity of Hope - Barack Obama

The Story of the Trapp Family Singers - Maria von Trapp

Anna and the King of Siam - Margaret Landon

This I Remember - Eleanor Roosevelt

Tammy Wynette: Tragic Country Queen - Jimmy McDonough

Grace of Monaco - Steven Englund

The Letters of Abelard & Heloise

Dreams in a Time of War - Ngugi wa Thiong'o

I'm also really excited about Amy Poehler's Yes, Please and B.J. Novak's The Book with No Pictures. I'll be picking up Novak's book at the library tomorrow!

What are you reading this year? Anything you're particularly excited about or have been waiting to read for ages? Tell me in the comments about the tales that await you in 2015.

Pep Talk

For everyone who needs to hear it . . . including me:

You.

Are.

Awesome.

You are awesome for all the ways you change the world every day just by being a part of it.

You are talented.

You are intelligent.

You are kind.

You are generous.

You are thoughtful.

You make a difference simply by being present.

You are important because you are.

Your awesomeness does not depend on my acknowledgment of it, but just in case you forgot or are having a hard time embracing the remarkable being that you are, I'm telling you. I hope you believe it.

You.

Are.

Awesome.

*******

Love, Micah

Are there 28 things I should do instead of getting engaged/married before I turn 28?

All the rage lately are these lists of "[Number] of Things to Do Instead of Getting Married at [Age, which is the same as Number]" or some variation thereon. At least two (three) of these posts emerged in response to this one. I'm not sure why some folks of my generation decry marriage as the end of life. (Maybe it's Timon's fault...) On the other hand, I'm not sure why others think life doesn't begin until you're in a stable, committed relationship. I don't hold to either of these ideas.

Coming up on 28, I've had a pretty good run so far. I won't regale you with a list of my accomplishments to date because, well, I'm not a high school student applying to college. (And who wants to read that anyway?) Neither will I deny that I haven't accomplished everything I hope to do in my lifetime, and I'm certainly not married yet. I hope marriage is a part of that lifetime sometime, but I'm not going to stop living now just because it's now a part of my life right now. (For the record, I also don't plan to stop living once I do marry, whenever (if) that happens.)

The blogs I mention read kind of like bucket lists at times, but this isn't one of those. For lack of a better term, these are some of my New Year's Resolutions. (A friend of mine resolved not to make any resolutions because this time of year isn't good for his resolve.) My list of resolutions includes a host of what I'll call "life fixes". (I don't have a better name for them right now. Do you have any ideas?) Instead of setting concrete goals, although I have those as well, I resolve to make choices and develop habits to improve my overall being.

*Connect more with the people in my life. Write monthly to the children I sponsor. Exchange letters with friends. Call my family more.

*Celebrate happiness. Last year, I had a happiness bucket for a hot minute. Now I have a happiness wall.
2.27 update: My sticky notes didn't stick to the wall. It's a happiness vase now. It's working:

Look at all that happiness in just two months!

*Be less critical when criticism is unasked or not constructive. This is particularly in relation to criticism from a distance, criticism of people I don't know, and criticism to make myself feel superior. (Hello, character flaw! Let's root you out!)

*Compliment others generously (and genuinely).

*Invest in people's lives. Ask how things are going. Follow up about projects, transitions, etc. Be present!

*Spend less time comparing my happiness/success with that of others.

Basically, it's all about being a decent, loving human being to myself and to the rest of humanity. If you're present in my life, I hope you'll hold me accountable. If we're not connected on a personal level, I hope you find something in this list worth applying to your own life. If you're inspired, I hope you'll connect through the comments and share your own "life fixes".

Whatever your marital status, age, or number of things to do,

here's to being present in 2014! I'm glad I'm here with you.

At 27, I went kayaking for the first time!
[with Sarah and Ryan (and also Mallory, who is taking the picture)]

The Trouble with Tomes

When I decided it would be a good idea in 2014 to read all of the novels I own but have not yet read, I underestimated my bibliophilic buying tendencies as well as my stunning lack of follow-through when it comes to actually reading the books I purchase.

The list clocks in at 70 novels.

This doesn't count the collections of short stories and poetry, the memoirs, the plays, the various nonfiction tomes that have taken up residence on my shelves over the years (nor does it include the pile of books tagged for giveaway, many of which I also have not read). That's more than a book a week! (I can math, too. Cool, right?)

While I am a skilled and confident reader, that number is daunting, particularly considering that according to my Goodreads profile, I only read 23 books in 2013. Granted, this doesn't include books I re-read but rather only books I was reading for the first time. Even so, I'm fairly certain my 2013 reading didn't even come close to 70 books. Some of these are beastly long, too: Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind; Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace and Anna Karenina; Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. Oof.

Is there time enough in a year? Should I split it up over two years? Three? I mean, three years would put me about on par with this year's reading, but is that making it too easy? Besides, I don't know how I'd choose. Plus, it's all so heavy, and I'm sure to get distracted. I didn't plan on reading half of what fell into my lap in 2013, and look what happened! Not that it wasn't heavy. A lot of it was. I mean, I read George R.R. Martin's whole Song of Ice & Fire as released to date in less than two months. (Did I accomplish anything else? Not really, but what's a bookworm to do when she's stuck in an epic series of novels?!)

Okay, so I guess I'll just read and see what happens. If I get through them, great. If not, 2015 is just around the corner. Besides, I'm more than a third of the way through the first book on the list (admittedly the lightest book on the list when it comes to content) so maybe . . . oh, wait. I forgot about Donna Tartt's The Secret History. Unless I trade my NYE movie marathon for a night with a book, I'm unlikely to finish that one before the new year begins. So 70 it will be.

3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

What are you reading this year?

intellectual conversations with a guy you once had a crush on

This post is part of a writing project called #30daysofessays. For more about the project, click here.

He intimidated me. Easily the best-looking, most crushed-upon guy in town. Plus he was smart. Talked about books and music and social issues. And he listened to me when I talked. *Swoon*

But seriously. We would never be a thing. Acquaintances. Game for a good conversation. Now and then, he'd let me have a free cup of hot tea at the bakery I frequented and where he worked. He was nice, you know. He smiled. Not just at me. A lot.

And I looked forward to encountering him. Mainly for the banter. Sometimes I still had trouble stringing words together. I wanted him to think I was smart. I forgot that I actually was (am) smart. I didn't have to pretend.

I've gotten past the idea that it's better to act like I know what he's talking about rather than just to admit I don't. Have you read this author? No. What's she written? This is happening here and it's amazing. Oh, really? I had no idea. Tell me more.

I'm making things up now, but conversations with him almost always brought intellectual stimulation. I felt selfish talking with him because he was giving me so much, and I didn't think I had anything to give him in return.

We'd known each other a while before we finally sat down to have lunch as actual friends to talk about this essay he was writing. It had been a while since we'd even had much of a conversation beyond hellos. Casual meetings in the street. Waves across a crowded bar or through a shop window.

But we sat for an hour and only briefly talked about his essay. Conversation careened from topic to topic. Highs and lows. You look happy, he said. I am.

Story after story after story. Mundane and exciting and covering so much ground. I wasn't hunting for words, worrying what he'd think of me if I said this or that, hoping he'd like me, over-eager to be the one he's paying attention to. I was those things once, but we were just talking, and I realized I'm not anymore.

Then it was over. Back to work for me, to the essay for him. We smiled and said good-bye. I saw him sitting in the window another day. Once upon a time I'd have ducked in to sit. Any excuse to bask in his eyes. I smiled. Waved. Kept walking.

12/9/2013

Tucson, AZ, Spring 2008

This post is part of a writing project called #30daysofessays. For more about the project, click here.

She was taking pictures of them as they stumbled from the bus, their belongings in plastic grocery bags. Tying shoelaces. Fastening belts. Herded like so many cattle back to the border. They might have called a handful of different countries home, but dropping them just that side of the dividing line put them out of our hands. America's hands.

We attending a hearing in Tucson. Not for those people. For others like them. People we call "illegal." (Because people can be "illegal"...) One man had crossed the border and been sent back thirty-seven times. Others just once, twice, half a dozen times. Those for whom the court could not provide a translator were released on time served and sent back across the border. Others would serve longer sentences before they, too, were returned to the desert. We learned many of these would attempt again to enter the country. They had nowhere else to go.

At an aid station near Nogales, Mexico, we saw the effects of prolonged exposure in the desert. Burned and calloused feet. Mouths dry with thirst. Skin parched from the dry heat. Water barrels marked by blue flags are scattered along the US-Mexico border, filled regularly by Humane Borders volunteers. Opponents of the organization's work contend that such provision encourages illegal crossings. Research refutes this idea, but research cannot stop the destruction of barrels and the waste of a life-sustaining resource.

They're breaking the law and should be treated like criminals, one side argues. This means robbing them of their humanity. Reducing them to less than livestock. Turning a blind eye to officer behavior that would not be out of place in a concentration camp. Deporting people to a place that is not their home. Naming this justice because it appeases the supposedly law-abiding masses. Because at least it looks like some effort is being made.

But to what end?

A nation built on the backs of immigrants turns its nose up at a new generation of immigrants. Their path may be different, but that doesn't make them unworthy. A person willing to trek thousands of dangerous miles across hot sand just to attempt to gain entrance into the United States seems like a person with the kind of work ethic held in such high esteem here.

That ethic is irrelevant because that person failed to obtain a visa and enter the country legally. Why? Surely, the system is perfectly formed and allows entrance to all people and doesn't put any kind of barriers in place that would limit people's opportunity based on economic status. That's an absurd suggestion. Is it? So he sits in limbo, waiting, expecting to be deported, to end up in that aid camp in Nogales. No better prospect awaits him than to try again and again and again. Until maybe one time he slips through and gets a low-paying, long hours job and hopes against hope he isn't found out.

Forced to march with dozens of other migrants across the border while a wide-eyed college student takes his picture.

12/8/2013

#30daysofessays

I was having lunch with a friend last week and telling him about this bizarre day at Rotary the week of the 50th anniversary of JFK's assassination. He asked if I ever thought, during an experience, that if it were happening to David Sedaris, he'd write an essay about it. I really can't say I've ever thought that. Until now.

Of course, I'm not David Sedaris. I can, however, write an essay so I figure I might as well. I've let enough time lapse since college without adequately exercising my creative writing/critical thinking/whatever brain muscles. Hopefully they haven't atrophied too much in the intervening years.

So here's the deal:

I've got this bag of writing prompts. Sort of. They're just tidbits of things I find interesting or want to write about or that strike me on a given day enough to write them down and toss them in the bag.

I'll choose a prompt from the bag each day and write about it. A page or two. Maybe less. However long it takes until I'm finished.

(I'm writing from the library now and there's this clock at the bottom of the screen telling me how much time I have left in my session. Ticking the seconds away. It's making this feel rather like a test.)

Whenever I can get to a computer, I'll upload the essays to the blog and publish them one by one. Essay one will make its debut tomorrow.

The days might not be consecutive. Here at Day 3, I'm doing all right.

If you're reading and think I should write about something specific, let me know. If you like a piece, don't like a piece, feel really middling about a piece, leave it in the comments. I like to know what you think.

You can follow this project on twitter at #30daysofessays or just subscribe here or just check back now and then to see what's new.

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Free Books: Part Two

Okay, here's the deal (in case you missed the first round): I've got all these books and I'm trying to downsize so I'm giving some away. All of the books in this round have been listed on paperbackswap, some for years and some for not so long at all. So now I'm posting this list of them here. If you want one, it's yours. Just let me know which you'd like and how to get it (or them) to you. They're all still listed on my paperbackswap bookshelf so in the event that anything is requested through the site, I'll do my best to make sure this list reflects that change.

Here goes:

Diana's Boys: William & Harry & the Mother They Loved (Christopher Andersen)

The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)

Five Women Wearing the Same Dress (Alan Ball)

The Diving Bell & the Butterfly (Jean-Dominique Bauby)

A Delirious Summer (Ray Blackston)

Lost in Rooville (Ray Blackston)

The Last Summer (of You & Me) (Ann Brashares)

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)

Tune in Anytime (Caroline B. Cooney)

Absolutely Normal Chaos (Sharon Creech)

Love by the Glass: Tasting Notes from a Marriage (Dorothy J. Gaiter & John Brecher)

Troy (Adele Geras)

Ellen Foster (Kaye Gibbons)

Just Ella (Margaret Peterson Haddix)

October Sky (Homer H. Hickam, Jr.)

Indigo (Alice Hoffman)

About a Boy (Nick Hornby)

Mossflower (Brian Jacques)

Redwall (Brian Jacques)

Penelope (Marilyn Kaye)

The Mermaid Chair (Sue Monk Kidd)

Goose Chase (Patrice Kindl)

Hearts in Atlantis (Stephen King)

Winds of Fate (Mercedes Lackey)

Ghost Boy (Iain Lawrence)

Shopgirl (Steve Martin)

The Painted Veil (W. Somerset Maugham)

Battlefield of the Mind (Joyce Meyer)

Her Fearful Symmetry (Audrey Niffenegger)

Jacob Have I Loved (Katherine Paterson)

Scribbler of Dreams (Mary E. Pearson)

Push (Sapphire)

The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)

Dress Your Family in Corduroy & Denim (David Sedaris)

Journey Through Heartsongs (Mattie J.T. Stepanek)

The Distance from the Heart of Things (Ashley Warlick)

The Charm School (Susan Wiggs)

More Than Words: Stories of Courage (Susan Wiggs, Sharon Sala, Emilie Richards)

The Lizzie McGuire Movie (junior novelization)

There you have it. Once again, if you want anything, it's yours (unless someone else asked first).

Happy reading!

Micah

FREE BOOKS!

Hi friends!

On October 15th, the local library will start accepting donations again. Until then, here are the titles from my library to which I'll be bidding farewell. Some of them I've read; others have been sitting collecting dust (and being packed and unpacked in various moves) since I acquired them.

If you'd like any of these, let me know, and we can work out how to get it/them to you. On October 15th, whatever is left will go to the library. (Yes, I know about PaperbackSwap. If you don't, you should.)

Seriously. Free books!

Watership Down (Richard Adams)

How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents (Julia Alvarez)

Speak (Laurie Halse Anderson)

Weetzie Bat (Francesca Lia Block)

Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury)

The Land that Time Forgot (Edgar Rice Burroughs)

My Antonia (Willa Cather)

The Professor's House (Willa Cather)

The Quilter's Kitchen (Jennifer Chiaverini)

A Pair of Silk Stockings and Other Stories (Kate Chopin)

Gigi and The Cat (Colette)

Seventeenth Summer (Maureen Daly)

The Origin of Species (Charles Darwin)

Nicholas Nickleby (Charles Dickens)

The Old Curiosity Shop (Charles Dickens)

The Pickwick Papers (Charles Dickens)

Sister Carrie (Theodore Dreiser)

Too Great a Lady (Amanda Elyot)

The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner)

Devil's Food Cake Murder (Joanne Fluke)

Where Angels Fear to Tread (E.M. Forster)

Five Sisters: The Langhornes of Virginia (James Fox)

Mary Called Magdalene (Margaret George)

Herland (Charlotte Perkins Gilman)

Lord of the Flies (William Golding)

On Reflection: An Autobiography (Helen Hayes)

The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway)

Mules and Men (Zora Neale Hurston)

The Turn of the Screw and Other Short Novels (Henry James)

13 Little Blue Envelopes (Maureen Johnson)

Bluebird, or the Invention of Happiness (Sheila Kohler)

The Red Queen's Daughter (Jacqueline Kolosov)

You May Not Tie an Alligator to a Fire Hydrant (Jeff Koon & Andy Powell)

Hector and the Search for Happiness (Francois Lelord)

A Swiftly Tilting Planet (Madeleine L'Engle)

Mandie and the Secret Tunnel (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Mandie and the Trunk's Secret (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Mandie and the Hidden Treasure (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Perspectives on the Jack Tales and Other North American Märchen (Carl Lindahl, ed.)

Jack in Two Worlds: Contemporary North American Tales & Their Tellers (William Bernard McCarthy, ed.)

Morgan's Run (Colleen McCullough)

Sula (Toni Morrison)

The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)

Where the Red Fern Grows (Wilson Rawls)

The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)

Franny and Zooey (J.D. Salinger)

Nine Stories (J.D. Salinger)

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight (Jennifer E. Smith)

Stargirl (Jerry Spinelli)

Girl in Hyacinth Blue (Susan Vreeland)

Affinity (Sarah Waters)

Some of them may have scribbles in them from surviving various university classes, but they are all in good to good-as-new condition.

Happy reading!

~Micah

Like Letters

I have a penchant for writing long-winded letters, fraught with emotion, to guys I find attractive. If you've ever been the receiving party of such a letter, I apologize. (There aren't that many of you, and you're probably not reading this anyway, but just in case. . .) You probably didn't deserve it, and I shouldn't have inflicted it upon you, but I'm certain that I meant every word I wrote at the time that I wrote it. Still, that's no excuse for actually giving it to you. I probably should have kept it to myself.

Then, I had a breakthrough of sorts. I wrote a short note and spent a day agonizing over whether or not to give it to someone. In the end, I didn't, partly because I am a little shy sometimes, partly because my gut told me not to, and partly because I was terrified someone else would find it and read it and hello awkward!

The note didn't say anything incriminating. There was a comment on his looks (sort of) and a compliment on a recent project. It shouldn't have been embarrassing to give him the note or even to say those things to his face . . . if I only thought of him as a friend.

There's the trouble, though.

I like him. I probably shouldn't, but I do. A little, anyway. Enough to make me awkward.

If I didn't, I could tell him the things that I wrote in that note, but since I do, anything I say is going to sound like I'm flirting. Which would be okay, I suppose, if I knew he also liked me. But I don't. And anyway, he shouldn't. We're really all wrong for each other. Probably.

So I'm erring on the side of caution when it comes to "Like Letters" these days.

Probably.

Gracie Dances (and Talks to Strangers in Restaurants)

She was four years old and sitting with her family at a table near mine at the restaurant. Barefoot and dressed in a baby pink leotard and hot pink tutu, she tiptoed near my table and then back to her own. Three or four times, she did this dance, moving closer and closer while her parents called her back, telling her to leave me alone. I asked her if she was a ballerina, and suddenly, Gracie was regaling me with the minuscule details of her colorful life.

For nigh on ten minutes, we chatted. She climbed into the chair opposite me and while I ate my soup, told me about pre-pre-K, homework, dance class, her dislike of the color of her ballet slippers, and her excitement for an upcoming trip to Disney World. When I told her I met Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and Belle when I was at Disney World but that Ariel was on vacation and so I didn't get to meet her, Gracie giggled and then firmly corrected me: Ariel was just upstairs changing.

Her mother suggested that Gracie color a page from her coloring book for me. On presenting the gift, she explained that she'd left the white parts that way on purpose. I promised to hang it on my refrigerator. She told me I'd have to put a magnet on it first. I assured her I would.

As she and her family prepared to depart for dance class, Gracie invited me to visit her anytime, told me her address (oops!) and asked when I would be there. Her mother smiled indulgently and said of course I was welcome anytime. Gracie told me to leave a note in the mailbox by their driveway to say when I would visit.

Gracie transformed my lonely meal into an exuberant conversation merely by being herself. She shares her smiles and her laughter with strangers at restaurants because why wouldn't we want to laugh with her?

Can this child-like confidence be contagious? Please!

Why I'm Afraid to Let You Read What I'm Writing

Too much of how I feel about myself is all tied up in how you feel about me. Good or bad, important or not, I value your opinion. Even if I don’t know you, I’ll take your response personally. Even if you just evaluate the grammar, I’ll internalize it and somehow manipulate your comments into a personal attack. They’re not meant that way. My brain knows that on the most basic level, but the emotional side of my brain doesn’t believe the rational side of my brain so I will struggle to keep the writing separate from who I am.

Except that, in a way, the writing is who I am. We are one and the same. It’s my thoughts and my opinions and my imagination run amok and my contribution to the world, however insignificant in the long run. It’s what will remain when I’m gone. So if you don’t appreciate it, if you don’t like it, if you don’t respond to it, what was the point of it? Why did I bother? If what I created isn’t worth your notice, does that mean I’m not worth it, either?

Again, I know that’s not true. I know my worth extends far beyond some words on a page. My contribution to the world is so much more than a physical remnant. My most valuable impression will not be measured by its physical presence. It will be the cheer that someone feels when they remember our interaction or the smile that creeps across their face when something reminds them of me.

So I guess what I’m saying is that how you feel about my writing will affect how I feel about myself, but I hope what you remember most about me is not my writing but me. Just me. My smile and my heart and the love and laughter I shared with you. I hope my writing doesn’t get in the way of that, and if all you have of me is my writing, I suppose my writing had better be full of love and laughter.

Recently, I've Been Writing...

Okay, I've been writing more than just recently. Since elementary school probably. When I was a kid, adults showered praise on my writing, impressed with my command of grammar and vocabulary, imagery and symbolism. (Yikes, that sounds conceited, doesn't it?) It made me uncomfortable, being singled out.

So I stopped sharing things and started keeping them to myself. Eventually, I lost that youthful ability to give over my thoughts to people to read and instead hoarded them, terrified to let anyone else see or hear what was happening in my head.

In college, of course, as an English major, I had to share my thoughts, had to write them down and let professors and peer-readers evaluate them. I was successful (mostly), and my confidence grew. Reading over some of those papers now, I wonder who that writer is. Surely, I didn't write those papers. I did, though, so where is she, the person who thought those things and phrased them the way she did. Not that anything I wrote was particularly commendable or memorable, but the thoughts were interesting and the writings engaging.

So what happened?

Well, whatever happened, I'm back to writing and figure I might as well put the words out there for reading. Some of it will be fiction, some introspective, some just for laughs. I'll leave it to you to decide what's what.

I hope you'll share your thoughts in the comments. I hope you'll tell me the truth, even if it might hurt. I hope you'll help me grow, and I hope you won't give up on me the way I had nearly given up on myself.

And thanks, in advance. I'm glad you're here.