I like books.
- Name: zelda1
I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Binary oppositions of the breasts
I had the misfortune or fortune, depending on who is looking at it, to grow up with big breasts, not huge, but they were big enough to keep many men’s eyes on my chest and not my face and even though I didn’t exploit them in any way shape or form. No, I dressed conservatively, except the T-shirt, which was always worn over a bra that had enough padding to keep the nipple well concealed. It was a burden, not the weight because they weren’t that big, but it was a burden being 18, working at the hospital and having the security guard, who was attracted to my chest, follow me down the hall to the little snack room and then I have to fight off his advances and I am too young to know and it was before women could actually voice sexual harassment. He became so bothersome that I quit going anywhere without another nursing student with me. Then there were the doctors who insisted that the students make rounds with them and who for the most part took that opportunity to take charts out of our arms and cope a cheap feel and that bothered me more than the security guard, who you kind of expect that mentality from an uneducated man but not from an educated professional.
Anyway, why do women want to put a beacon on their own sexuality? Do they actually enjoy the jeering men, the lustful looks, the not looking at the face in conversation? I was so glad when my girls started to take the form of an old woman’s breasts. I was so happy when they were no longer the objects of men’s desires. Every once in a while, I see an older man take a cheap look at my bosom, that is what older women have, and they do it in a very guilty looking way. It’s as if they are looking at their mom’s breasts. How funny. Breasts, gotta wonder why they evolved or were placed or however we arrived here, but why did they, the breasts come with two functions, to satisfy the hungers of mankind and why when they are satisfying the hunger of a newborn baby or even toddler, the feeling is of such protection and nurturing and then when they are used for the other, the feeling is so different. Makes me wonder what sick mind did that?
When Mama Visits
Wing envy, lust, fianlly guilt
So last night, Mr. Zelda and I were going out to eat, a make up dinner, better than make-up sex, and he said pick the place and I was going to say Wings, but said Lone Star. I avoided the chicken menu and went straight for the beef and after I ordered, realized that there was a lobster tail but it was just the tail and I saw no tank so it’s doubtful it was boiled a live, or maybe it was and I contributed to the in humane death of the lobster. Yikes, I am really going to have to watch my steps in this world if I am going to do WBWD.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
They are in such a hurry and for what?
Okay, maybe not a fucktard
Guilt, not just for Jewish women.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Rome or Bust
If I save from now until summer, and make sure that I work as hard as I can, I can have the money should the scholarship fall by the way side. I am going to Rome, by Hercules and I will see paintings and architecture and visit old runes and bath houses where Nero had sex with little slave boys and go to the alps and see what all the fuss is about.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Some people are just too stupid
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
what is nice
To Breathe or not to Breathe
A Life Sentence
My older sister, the one who raised me, is throwing a fit about the financial burden that my daughter has placed on me. My husband, and understandably so, is voicing is complaints and anger at me working on my new job to take care of my daughter, who is near 30-years-old. I just want to continue life without all these stresses and if it means paying her fucking utility bills, then so be it. It is, after all, keeping my grandchildren safe. When I tell my friends to think long and hard before they commit to having a baby, I really mean it. It’s like the major consequence of having unprotected sex. Kind of like getting herpes, or aids, or any other STD, it’s for life.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Friday, September 16, 2005
It was just ma'am
After getting to school and to the library, I headed to the elevator where an older man and woman stood. They were janitors and both seemed past the age of working. When I got to where they stood, I say, going up and they say yes, giving me little eye contact. The elevator arrives and I wait for the two older-than-me to enter and they stood back. I waited and the man grabbed the door to keep it from closing and looked at me and gestured with his head for me to enter, which I finally did. How strange. On the elevator, I tried to engage the two to no avail but when it got to the 4th floor, they again insisted that I go through the doorway first. When I walked away, I said have a nice day and the woman says you too ma’am.
I can see they might have been confused that I was faculty, me being older and all, but surely the knee knockers and T-shirt and backpack and book in hand was an indication that I was an older student. Even if I was faculty, I am certainly younger and why would they call me ma’am? It was almost servile or even worse. I felt weird and class is something that I have to really be careful with since I am and have always been poor and from the wrong side of the tracks and all of that, so when someone, especially someone older, addresses me in a way that makes me feel superior, I feel guilty and unworthy and it shouldn’t occur. No one should ever feel obligated to become the one saying ma’am unless you are younger and trying to be respectful. I guess my point is that it’s a shame that the man and woman felt obligated to offer me some form of respect when in fact, I was the one who should show them respect. They are older and all that.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
The Little Green Phantoms and a Job
Murder is Murder
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Children and the News and Religion
It is raining and I have my door open and can almost feel the spray of the rain and wish I could go stand in it and get soaked but I am so old that wet clinging clothes irritate me. I sent an email to my grandson and told him that it is raining here but not a lot and for him to remember that it rains every season change, the way the atmosphere gets cleaned and the way we get our water back from the sky after it has been evaporated. Geeze children shouldn’t have these worries.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I got my Latin Dick and it makes me so happy.
Mr. Zelda went into the bookstore to pick it up. I sat in the truck and watched a man I named Popeye. He was extremely skinny and was leaning on the side of Barnes and Nobles smoking a pipe, trying to look all-academic, and twice he burned his fingers on the hot bowl. (I know about hot bowls but not from tobacco) I laughed and then he finally gave up on his pipe and put it back inside the little pouch that hung from his side and he went inside. I was curious and wanted to follow him to see what part of the bookstore that he found interesting. I suspect the newstand and only because he headed that direction.
We ate out and I ate this really awful catfish and my husband had chicken and we both ate a banana split. I only ate half of mine, both the food and the dessert and he licked his platter clean. It’s the steroids he takes for his crones disease, makes him eat like a pig and his face is so round and his belly is getting rounder. I feel sorry for him because I have been on steroids long term and know the effects of the drug. He asks me if he is getting fat and I say no and he says are you sure and I say yes but who cares. I have never been one to judge anyone by their size, even when I was a size 9.
Now, it’s the Latin dictionary and me, one more fix for my addiction.
Monday, September 12, 2005
She gave me a taste and soon I craved it and she had it every time I needed it and when I was curious about more, she gave it to me.
From that taste and into that craving, she turned me into an addict and for five semesters she gave it to me free, isn’t that what they are supposed to do? I mean really good professors; make you into addicts I mean.
Fortunately, my addiction isn’t illegal, thus I will never be forced into a 12-step program, and since the language is dead, I won’t have to speak it, just read.
Latin, gotta love it.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
The Used Book Store
But, while I was there, I met a woman who drove down from Missouri to attend some kind of school reunion and she always comes to that bookstore. She says it is the climax of her trips. She showed me the many books that she bought. I was surprised, she didn’t look like a fan of folklore nor did she look like a fan of eastern religions. I say, I’m impressed with your reading choice, and she says I am really getting into the eastern religion thing and I am always interested in folklore. I find that she is a professor at a university in Missouri and that she has her PhD in comparative literature. I should have known, fifties, long straight hair, no make-up, generic clothes and shoes, and a T-shirt that expressed certain distaste for the way the government is being run. She also had this beautiful crystal hanging around her neck as well as turquoise and silver and I say Navajo and she says yes, the three sacred stones. I knew I had met my new best friend. She took my email and I her email and we both promised to keep in touch. She told me when I finished school to find my way up to Missouri that they are in dire straights for good English/Literature professors and I promised I would check them out first.
Later, my husband and had a discussion on Hawthorne that started when a friend was here, but after she left we continued. For a change, it was nice to talk and argue about literature and not fight about money or who does what and who has the most responsibilities. Mr. Zelda’s favorite writer is Hemmingway and no matter what literature we discuss, he brings Hemmingway into the middle. It’s nice to know that while there so many reasons to keep me depressed there are books and they can, for a short time, take my mind off of NO and Bushwackers and the stress of just being.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
The Rain Dance
When my grandson number one was born, it had not rained in five weeks and the ponds were drying out and the farmers were not getting enough grass for grazing and the hay was burned and all of that. My grandson was born into this inferno and his father and his father’s family is devout Catholics and against my wishes they had him baptized when he, my grandson, was only a few days old. Afterwards, there was a giant party, complete with food and beer, yes they are drinkers, and it was nice but the topic of conversation was the lack of rain. The priest was there and they were telling him to light candles for rain and all of this and it was like the middle of August and I, being of intelligence and reasoning, had watched the weather channel and the meteorologists explained that rain and lots of rain was going to plague the much needed dry state of Arkansas. Apparently none of the country folk at this party knew about the weather channel and I take that opportunity and I say, I performed a ceremony for rain yesterday, of course I had to catch a frog and whisper in his ear to spend his time singing and not croaking. The small children gathered around. I continue, yes the frogs, see, they have powers to know about rain and how to get rain. When the ponds start getting so low that they are threatened, they will quit croaking and start singing. You will hear them singing with the tree frogs late at night and even the cicadas aren’t as loud as the frogs. One boy says was it a toad or a bullfrog, I say, why of course a toad, they are the ones who are bewitched by the mean old witch and they know powers from having been bewitched. The adults are getting pissed that I am telling such tales, but I am the baby’s grandmother on the mother side, the Baptist side, so they tolerate my foolishness. Then I look at the children and then to the priest, who, by the way, was listening as intently as the children, and I say, the rain will be here today. The frog promised me if I would stand on the porch and do a dance, the rain would come. The kids ran to the porch and they began doing a dance and I encouraged them to sway back and forth and the mother of my son-in-law said they looked foolish and for their parents to make them stop and I say they are having fun, and suddenly, without warning of clouds a rumble is heard then wind and then the sky darkens and the rain begins to pour from the sky and the children ran in and told me they made rain. The one boy says to my grandson, who was unaware of all the events, your grandma is so smart. True story.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Teaching and Learning
The good news, I don’t have a quiz tomorrow. Did I tell you guys that my new name…well my Latin name is Lila Drusilla. I am going to research her out. She was a mean Roman woman and I wanted someone mean. Ha! I tell me Latin teacher. Name me after a villain or a slut; I don’t want to be a nice person. He says Lila had a lot of kids but was mean. I will see. Latin is so much fun and I love what I am learning. I think everyone should learn at least one of the classics. It makes your brain work better, I swear.
some people are just stupid.
Just Shoot Me Now!!!
I think my sudden inability to cope with all the problems of my own life has been impacted by Katrina, and I don't mean to complain or even compare my emotional problems with those of the victims and their families, but I am human and a very sensitive human and seeing the devastion tears at my heart. A woman’s dog saved her and in the news she is giving the dog a drink out of a large cup and I am crying, another woman holds her baby and it is dirty and it is crying and I am crying, they show an arial view of the devastation and I cry.
In addition to what I see on the tube or the internet or read in the papers, I fight with my husband and I realized that the fighting is not the issue but is a symptom of what I am feeling about the victims of katrina. My problems are so insignificant and petty and then when my family complains, I just want to kick them in the butts. I can’t even drink hot coffee or take a hot shower without thinking about all those who don’t have the luxury of their own kitchen or bathroom and then I feel such guilt.
I wish I were like Mother Theresa and could just go from one human suffering place to another and help and make things better. I wish I was God and I would not let these things happen.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Monday, September 05, 2005
That's my girl.
Before I hung up the phone, I told her this was her chance to be a part of something really great. I say, you can become friends with people who can teach you so much. I reminded her how when they brought the Vietnamese to Fort Chaffee I was very involved in helping with their healthcare needs. She said now is my chance to say someday that I helped. I said yes but don't do it for the praise, do it because it is the right thing to do. I also told her the next time she hears those ignorant sobs with their racial crap to tell them their ignorance is showing.
what about the pets?
It's just Latin.
I should have spent the entire weekend translating, but I had the youngest of my grandsons and he did not allow me to spend attention on anything but him. I took him home Sunday. I should have dropped him off and came straight back here to study but Mr. Zelda and I went to the theater and watched The Brothers Grimm. It was funny and scary with a lot of sound, loud sounds, and a lot of special effects; however, while I didn’t care too much for the sound or the special effects, the storyline was pretty good.
In the meanwhile, I am suffering with this head cold and trying to not take anything because that would make the dead language harder to bring to life and again the question arises, “Why am I doing this?” Then I stop questioning, because I can.
So, back to translating and reading and looking words up, almost every single word and hopefully, I will be ready for the quiz. Yes, he quizzes every single class meeting. But he is surely cute and funny so I can abide the quizzes.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Too much exposure, maybe not a bad thing.
The tree, a majestic oak, and it was whispering, the leaves about to turn loose, the limbs creaking as if arthritic, and the trunk so ready to be bare, to let the world see it’s erotic bark, its bumps and curvatures and those indentions and those scars and all those things that have happened over time, the secrets only the tree knows. But on this day, she was providing a shade to a half clothed freshman. I know she was a freshman because they are so easy to spot with their sweet smiles and their beliefs still whole and their mama’s warnings about the evils of life still fresh in their minds.
She was drinking one of those trendy energy drinks, as if freshmen need energy, hell they can go for days on raw hormones like estrogen—no sleep, gotta breed, no sleep, gotta find a man, no sleep, gotta find the secret to breed and amongst all of that needing to breed is the residual, which translates too much movement and too much searching and too much of those rituals that come with the breeding process. Those things I have long forgotten, thank the gods.
I watched her, standing against the tree, trying to be cool, her shirt more than half unbuttoned, her mother would die, and her perky breasts like two pointed hills advertising ripeness, and her smile, though lacking the confidence to match those breasts still there and suddenly a giant insect being chased by another giant insect aims at the girls breasts and down the shirt it goes and the pursuing insect flies away and the girl looks relieved that the other insect flew away but was innocent in knowledge of the intruder, but suddenly she must feel the scratchy legs of the insect snuggled between her perky breasts and she wants to scratch but that is what old women do but then she feels more than itchy legs but crawling legs and she screams and jumps and reaches in and pulls out the startled bug and young boys gather and she pulls off her top and her breasts are white and she knocks the offending insect off and there she is living my pre-graduate school dream, naked and everyone seeing except in my dream, my breasts are not tempting, not perky, and in my dream I am not tempted to comment on how beautiful those breasts are. Damned if I were younger and still had my girls with their nice form and all of that, but I am not young, the girls have succumbed to breasts feeding two children, gravity, and god only knows what else, so I just admire other females’ breasts and while the girl blushed, she puts her blouse back on, people quit staring but it is no use, they still have the girls breasts in their minds, imprinted like a photograph.
She walks away from the tree, her face red, and she has learned that during certain times of the year, the tree lean isn’t romantic, isn’t seductive, but is dangerous and if you are going to lean under a tree, be ready for interloping insects, and possibly be ready to be seen either naked, partially naked, or doing the not so cool ants in my pants, or cicadas on my breasts dance.