Cambridge... and other things to talk about more.
Hi friends. Just a quick little note to say that Brett and I have arrived safely in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We have some sweet digs and are spending all the time I should be spending writing my thesis organizing the house. We are thrilled to be in this place of elitist learning, opinionated sales-people, east-coast sarcasm, and real honest-to-god seasons. We do not have internet or a land line or good t.v. reception - but that's okay because I've always wanted to live in the 1900's. Anyways, we are missing all our California friends and family. More on all of this later - for now I have to leave my current post (sitting in front of a closed cafe/local grocery that has free wireless) and return home to unpack salad tongs into a drawer.

Love Love Love from the Eastside.

Beware of flying babies and magical wands...

This is a little note sharing a bit of my spiritual experience in Oxford - land of over-educated Brits, high-walled gardens and inspiration. With Brett and I preparing to move to Cambridge, MA I am taking a moment to marvel at another city making home to an institution of elitist learning. C.S. Lewis and Lewis Carroll may turn in their graves at the notion that my favorite part of their shire of goodness was neither the second Lewis' luscious college gardens nor the first Lewis' old pint shop (the Bird and the Baby also called the Eagle and Child -
disturbing cameo on the placard outside the pub showing a Baby flying away with a large bird - like in some act of benevolence this beast of nature picked up the baby from it's slumber with its ginormous talons - seriously?!). This place - this place of bestial babycide - was not my absolute favorite. For some of you this may not be any surprise, because you do not know that I believe that C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien are two of the finest literary minds of all time. For others this might come as a suprise - knowing my deep and undying love from Lewis' wordsmithing non-fiction and Tolkien's hero development. This place of so much literary history and inspiration might have been the "it" place for me in Oxford, but alas it was not.

The highlight came when, after turning a corner into the New College cloisters (by the way American needs to get on the cloister train - they are wicked cool and soothingly serene little courtyards - i want one), I entered a realm of enchanted creatures, wands and children. While not impressive to some people, walking straight into a set from the Harry Potter films was a bit more than magical for me. Here below is a picture of me under a tree where .... well watch Movie 3 and find out for yourself. (actually this tree is featured in Movie 4 (thanks Hols), but watch both movies and be doubly pleased) I am giddy and happy in this picture. A friend of mine says it looks like I'm trying to hijack some nice kid's senior picture, but really it's just my dorky self full of the excitement that only the close proximity to anything truly Potter-esc brings. (My Religious Study Prof from college said that adding 'esc' to the end of words makes anyone sound smarter... so true L.D., so true)

Do not judge me on this account - I love Harry Potter to a degree that is almost laughable ... and I'm comfortable with it. Also, I want to document a moment in time when I was genuinely pleased to be in the place where I stood, because this is currently not the case. I am so tired of being not home. Brett and I have been mostly homeless and in moving limbo for almost 2 months now. The closer we are getting to moving the more anxious and sad I am becoming. I do not like living out of a suitcase - neither the part where I can't find that specific tank-top I want in the piles of uck nor the symbolic representation of having no where to put my shtuff. Though, I must remember that while it sucks right now it will all be over in a week, people suffer much more than me (not finding the right piece of apparel doesn't hold a candle to, let's say mass poverty, the effects of global economy on Indian basket-weavers, or the AIDS crisis), and it is okay that I am sad about moving and being without a space. Space is important - though the over-usage of "space" as a metaphysical concept can be quite irritating, I being a major perpetrator here. So, in the literal sense I will be coming into a fine 800 approximate square feet of Cambridge space in one week (Aug. 12), hopefully some metaphysical space is included in the absurdly high rent.

However, I am being a huge downer - so I will lighten our mood here with something that might become a mainstay of Avoiding the Inevitable- quotes from Jason Mraz's own blog/journal. Not only do his words bounce off the walls like ping-pong balls on glass jars at a county fair, but they are my favorite way to avoid whatever inevitable activity is waiting at my door (like my thesis at the present). So, while I am so melancholy I will entice us with little J-raz, as he discusses his euphoria (circa May 2006). Enjoy his toolishness - and feel at liberty to say at any point and often, "seriously Jason? seriously?!?":


I’ve been feeling so thumbs up lately. Actually, the last 58 days in a row have been the best my life has seen. Not one dull moment. For almost two months I have experienced pure joy. Like some wise Yogi came up and pressed my forehead and opened my third eye. My consciousness is expanding, said one of my teachers. Not a day goes by from now that I don’t wake up and do a soft shoe across my floor, dancing to a song in my heart, wearing nothing but a smile...

Can freshness &/or wearing Euro-shorts be considered a crime?
Apparently the self-proclaimed wizard of oohs and ahhs and falalas doesn't think so....
Your thoughts.

Too many people blog. It’s almost infuriating the amount of blogging that goes on these days - from mySpace tweenies and trekkies to B-list rock stars and presidential candidates! In the world of competing voices why should you listen to me?!? I know I like the sound of my own voice, but... So, blogging is becoming our new national pass-time. Actually, I think the word 'blog' was once the national word of the year - if there is such a thing, I think there is; and 'podcast' was this year's word (if I am not mistaken). The damn internet and making up words. My husband and best friend are always telling me that I make up too many words - mainly making verbs out of nouns. But, if the internet has no problem with it, neither do I. But, I digress - blogs. While there are so many blogs out there that my eyes bleed and my retinas burn at the sight of them, I have decided to join their ranks with an obligatory blogging apology note (as many bloggers begin). Perhaps the blog apology is suggested of beginning bloggers - albeit required by those snooty self-aware falsely modest folk who scoff at the production of words merely for self-publicity. So, I will not apologize, for I have never been ashamed of self-publicity and I am always interested in what people say about/for themselves. So, maybe this is a study is self-awareness and publication or just the modest musings of someone who will be missing her friends who are far away and needs messages in binary code to connect to them... either way I embark on a new literary quest. I make no promises here, nor do I make any apologies. Love and Lit for all!