Quotes of the Week

All three of these came up in my peer counseling triad. What on earth were we talking about?


"Curiosity is the fire under the ass of the human spirit."

-Chris "Chris in the Morning" Stevens, Northern Exposure, Season 3





“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

--Marianne Williamson (often incorrectly attributed to Nelson Mandela, still right on, though)


"I don't want to start talking because then I'll start talking"

--Kj Swanson

Happy Birthday, JR

You know your friends know you when they call you on Johnny Cash's Birthday. Thank you, Kim.

John R. Cash was born February 26, 1932 in Arkansas, and I'm sure glad he was. Maybe at some point I'll use this blog space to expound the significance of Johnny Cash to my life and my spiritual journey, and alongside him, my two other faith/life heroes: Lady Jane Grey and Charlotte Bronte, but for now, on Johnny's birthday, I'll let his words do the talkin'. Here's the lyrics to "Man In Black" which I decided to carry in my back pocket today, which felt silly when I thought about doing it, but once I had it with me, it started feeling like, not a memento mori (listening to Johnny sing to me on my Ipod while knowing he's not currently on earth and that I one day will not be on earth) but more like a memento Histori (making this up) a reminder of legacies preceding me, timelines past and my fragile but real part in chronology. He's gone, but I'm here, and his words are here with me, and my words will go somewhere too, don't know where. But I'll leave you now with Mr. Cash, God rest his soul earnestly and tenderly...


MAN IN BLACK

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

Can You get a Hangover from Making Drinks, not Drinking them?

So there was a benefit at the theatre last night, for a sorority- some one woman Diva show. I don't know. All I know is that I'm setting up the bar as usual, and decide, since my sign still says Disarronno on special, I'll just do that again, becuase it's easy. Ice, pour, serve. A couple weeks ago when we had an opera at the theater, I took advantage of the baroque atmosphere to do some of my preferred "Elegant" cocktails, my favorite being Kir or Kir Royale. I LOVE pouring Chambord in wine glasses and adding Champagne or Sauvignon Blanc. It makes me feel fancy.

Anyhoo, it felt like an Ammaretto night, but the first two women who came up to the bar proceeded to order Apple Martinis, and I could see the whole night flash before my eyes. So I changed the special to Appletinis (Lord, did I ever think this word would enter my vocabulary?). And the shaking began. Can someone please fly out and document this portion of reality where Kj serves Appletinis to middle aged Sorority sisters? I just need proof that this is actually my life.

SIX hours later, I stood waiting for my bus on the corner of Queen Anne and Mercer, cold, tired and feeling very foggy; sensitive to loud noises and bright lights. Woke up the same way. Is this what a hangover feels like?

More Fun with Photobooth

With the help of Mac photobooth, you too can create your own "Snow Patrol" album cover!



Hmmm...When exactly did I start looking like Kurt Cobain?



Kj! Don't forget to bring your bible to class on Wednesday!



This is Halilah, my roomate Carrie's cat. "Halilah" is Hebrew for "She who whines". Very apt. Very precious.



Hey Louis. Jealous......? Wish you'd treated me better, don't ya? Oh you cat, how you broke my heart daily. Halilah actually whines at my door wanting to spend time with me. Louis, you missed your chance, buddy. And yet, my heart is still yours...



On the phone with Katrina..



Homework? What homework?

GOOD poem

this was shared by someone the other night. love it.

































Jack Gilbert-

ROMANTICS

Johannes Brahms and Clara Schumann

The modern biographers worry
“how far it went,” their tender friendship.
They wonder just what it means
when he writes he thinks of her constantly,
his guardian angel, beloved friend.
The modern biographers ask
the rude, irrelevant question
of our age, as if the event
of two bodies meshing together
establishes the degree of love,
forgetting how softly Eros walked
in the nineteenth century, how a hand
held overlong or a gaze anchored
in someone’s eyes could unseat a heart,
and nuances of address not known
in our egalitarian language
could make the redolent air
tremble and shimmer with the heat
of possibility. Each time I hear
the Intermezzi, sad
and lavish in their tenderness,
I imagine the two of them
Sitting in a garden
Among late-blooming roses
And dark cascades of leaves,
Letting the landscape speak for them,
Leaving us nothing to overhear.

One of the Things Chevy Chase and I Have in Common...

...is that we both know all the words to "You Can Call Me Al"


So I finally got Graceland" on CD, after listening to it on tape since, what, I was five? So today, as I was standing at my secluded neighborhood bus stop where I always show up fifteen minutes early so I can sing along with my Ipod in privacy, "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" came on, and I realized this was the first time in 22 years of listening to this song that I was not sitting in a car. I realized this because without hesitation, I found myself dancing along. And not just bobbing my knees, I was fully psuedo-subtle West Afrcian style stepping on the corner of 100th and 14th, with minvans driving by. This was a very good feeling. I suggest listening to "Graceland" standing up from now on.

But here's my question: Those of you who grew up on "Graceland" how do you picture her shoes in "Diamonds on the soles of her Shoes"? Please respond and tell me. If you don't, I will call you.

Here's my answer: they've always been burgundy brown cowboy boots to me, and the diamonds are three small diamonds in a row studding the sole of each boot.

It's in the mail...

...on the way to my house.



Basically, if she's sellin' it
I'm buyin' it

"Bring your Mac to Work" Night at Intiman Theatre

Ian: Hey, Kj. What's up?
Kj: Oh, just goofing around on my computer. Lots of time to kill before intermission. thought I'd take some pictures of me on the job using PhotoBooth. What should I do?
Ian: Pretend like you're giving someone their change.











Kj: That was fun. What next?
Ian: Pretend like you're pouring me tonight’s special.
Kj: Okay. “Disaronno on the rocks?”
Ian: Why, thank you.












Ian: Let’s use some effects. Ooh, Thermal Camera.
Kj: And I’ll pretend I’m shaking a martini.







Ian: Now we need a shot with some perspective.



Kj: Here’s my “You really want a Bloody Mary?” look.












Sachiyo: what are you guys doing?
Kj: Taking pictures. Come join us.
Sachiyo: No, I can’t.
Ian: Come on, it’s your last night here.
Sachiyo: Okay, why not.
Mary: What are you guys doing? Ooh, pictures. How does it work?
Kj: It’s just like a photobooth. Here, lets all cram into the shot.

(A half hour passes. Here is one of the thirty group shots)




Ah, I do love my job.

"Haiku!" -"God Bless you"

I learned the other night about a woman who writes Haiku every morning as a discipline, so I thought I'd give it a shot this morning.


Haiku as an Exercise in Procrastination
By Kj Swanson

Global citizen,
Riding bus. Oh Shoot! Did we
just pass the Starbucks?

Cancelled my “Premiere”
subscription. Tired of reading
Top “100” lists.

My “Star Wars” watch from
Burger King doesn’t keep time
As well as I’d hoped.

Dom, Sean, Billy and
Elijah! Look! I got a
Matching tattoo too!

Celebrating Awkward Human Interactions

Hipster Haiku by Siobhan Adcock

Thanks, Aunt Polly. But
Chili's gift certificates
Are no good to me

My sardonic wit
Doesn't tranlsate in e-mail
That's why I'm alone

Yes, my hair is streaked.
Yes, it sure is "different."
Yes, yes, Uncle Mike.

I'm a regular
The bartender knows my name
I'm lonely inside

If there's a bald man
In a Lower East Side bar,
It is David Cross