The demise of an American icon may be upon us. I heard in the news that Disney is planning to change the look of Mickey Mouse, make him more relevant, more accessible for today's children and youth. How can that even be right?

Obama must be behind it.

23

It was my birthday yesterday, and Josh and I did a lot of things that made me feel like we were living the high life. First, he gave me an ipod nano that he won from the Apple store and an itunes gift card to help fill it up :) It's so skinny, I'm afraid I might accidentally eat it.

Later, we stopped by the Minnesota History Center with the free ticket passes we got from the library. I wish we could've stayed there longer, though. The exhibits are very intriguing, especially The Minnesota's Greatest Generation section. They had the back end of an real plane in there! And a sweet old 50s car and a ton of old-fashioned t.v.s (which Josh liked the most, of course).

For dinner, we went to this fancy restaurant called Kozlaks. Fantastic tenderloin and cheesecake. And we didn't have to pay for that either, because we had a gift card. Woot!

And to top the evening off, we went to the Minnesota Opera to see Casanova's Homecoming (once again, with free tickets). The show was sung in English, which is not my preference for operas, but it was highly amusing and full of sexual innuendoes. But what can you expect if you're watching something about Casanova?

Needless to say, the 21st of November was a great way to start my 23rd year of existence.

Heidi

p.s. Please note that not only is this my 23rd birthday, but it's also my 23rd blog. I'm just that coordinated ;)

The Visitors

Wow. I think I'm really going to like this new show on ABC. A quick premise of the show, so you all understand: Aliens have arrived on earth in our modern time (during wars, economic strife, poverty, etc.) and claim, through the attractive and articulate leader, that they will give us world peace, and therefore, happiness. People practically worship these "saviors" and the "change" they will be bringing, no questions asked. And another one of the Visitors plans to gain our trust is to implement universal healthcare. Interesting. Oh, and did I mention that the aliens are really planning to annihilate us all?

Maybe we should listen.

This is it.

The day before I start my novel. I, and thousands of others around the world, will be embarking on the one-month novel-writing quest known as Nanowrimo. (www.nanowrimo.org). I'm a bit nervous, but I'm not totally unprepared. For years, I've had this fantasy story stirring in my head, and this, I believe, is the perfect time to finally get it on down paper.

So, with my random preliminary character notes and plot point scribblings, I embark (look! I'm already in the fantasy-writing mindset). I'll try to keep you posted on my progress, but, if you don't hear from me, you can assume that I'm either writing furiously and will need a hand massage by the end of the night or I'm ripping out my hair in frustration.

Now, to use that extra hour of sleep to my advantage :)

See you on the other side.

Heidi

p.s. While at the Minneapolis Institute of Art to see the traveling Louvre exhibit (which was incredible, by the way), I found, in the middle of a crowded room, a man dressed as Waldo.

Springtime of Life - Camille Corot

For it is Life that we want

"For it is life we want. We want the world, the whole beautiful world, alive - and we alive in it. That is the actual god we long for and seek, yet we already have it, if we open our senses, our whole bodies, thus our souls. That is why I have written and intend to continue until someone among you takes up the happy work of keeping the chain letter of the soul moving along into whatever future will come." - Bill Holm

Since working at Milkweed, I've discovered this fantastic author, who, sadly, passed away earlier this year. I want to take his message to heart, take up his calling, and since he can no longer speak, carry the chain letter of the soul to my generation.

I hope to live this way in my faith, as well. God gave me the gift of words, and I must've ever forget that. Let me speak truth to the world eloquently, precisely, and honorably.

Happenings

I quit my job! I have never felt so liberated. I mean, if people are not going to respect me and my work ethic and/or use me as a scape goat, they better be paying me more than $7.25 if they expect me to stick around.

In other news, I had an interview with a recruiter this morning. I think it went well (even though we were thirty minutes late thanks to traffic!), and this could be the beginning of a very amazing opportunity. The building also housed the Dairy Queen headquarters, and they gave out free dilly bars in the lobby. Kind of exciting :)

Josh went apple picking over the weekend and is in the process of making apple sauce, apple pie, and apple crisp. The apartment is in a constant smell of yum... In the meantime, he decided to store the bag of apples on the balcony. I looked out the window this afternoon and saw a squirrel bounding away with something very large in his mouth. Naturally, I started laughing, and after Josh chased the animal away, he moped about the loss of one of his hand-picked apples. And just because I love rodents and this story sort of relates to this picture, I've posted something lovely for you to look at.

"Morning Song"

I took a trip to the library today with the intent of getting one particular book and ended up leaving with four. Go figure. One was a collection of poetry from Sylvia Plath, a very lovely and tragic poet. Why is it that the people who are highly-tuned to the beauty of language and the world around them are likely to commit suicide? Is it, perhaps, because they see the potential of the world and know that it will never be rid of all the evil?

But, I digress. When I opened the book, I was met with this beautiful piece of poetry. When I was done with work on Sunday, I was so sick of screaming, messy children. Perhaps that's why this poem sticks out to me. I need to see the beauty in the crying.

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.

The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry

Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue

In a drafty museum, your nakedness

Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother

Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow

Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath

Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:

A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral

In my Victorian nightgown.

Your mouth opens as cleans as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try

Your handful of notes;

The clear vowels rise like balloons.