Today we had a company lunch, which is always a slightly awkward affair. Since the company is on two floors there is a kind of disconnect between the marketing, sales, and development people up stairs and the customer service/technical support people down stairs. I know only a couple of people from up stairs, yet I really know the people in my office the best and like hanging with them. So its awkward when, as a temp you know no one and they don't really know you. But hey free food and eating too much are always good things.
The funny thing is, that at my last job there was a better sense of family. You really knew everyone in the company, even if the office people were separate from the Manufacturing people. When we got together for something we all talked together, we all got along. And I think it was a better company because they hired 'nice' people, had a good product, and good ethics. Its amazing how much ethics can change how I feel about working some where. And until my life in Philly, I never really worried about my personal ethics or the ethics of what I work on. Guess I need to pay closer attention to all of that.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Colorless
I wish that the world was void of color
so I would not be judged by my skin
so that others will not pull me down
nor lift me up because a simple color.
White, they call me white.
But in reality I'm more Tan,
And does it really matter?
If the whole world was color blind
Could you imagine the out come?
If we saw man and woman as human, always?
If country and race and creed
mattered less than peace and love?
Make me color blind, make me free
And in this colorless world of greys
I would be one just like you, or you.
We would be sisters, brothers, family
human,
But yet, if we could do all that
And not loose the color of the world
Colorless would not be the cure, only a fix.
A badly placed band aid
Over a wound that can't heal
And a world void of color of culture
would be void of so much more.
So forget the colorless, make me vibrate
And celebrate with me our differences
Forget my sister, my brother our anger
learn Love, learn healing, learn peace.
Only prejudice is colorless.
so I would not be judged by my skin
so that others will not pull me down
nor lift me up because a simple color.
White, they call me white.
But in reality I'm more Tan,
And does it really matter?
If the whole world was color blind
Could you imagine the out come?
If we saw man and woman as human, always?
If country and race and creed
mattered less than peace and love?
Make me color blind, make me free
And in this colorless world of greys
I would be one just like you, or you.
We would be sisters, brothers, family
human,
But yet, if we could do all that
And not loose the color of the world
Colorless would not be the cure, only a fix.
A badly placed band aid
Over a wound that can't heal
And a world void of color of culture
would be void of so much more.
So forget the colorless, make me vibrate
And celebrate with me our differences
Forget my sister, my brother our anger
learn Love, learn healing, learn peace.
Only prejudice is colorless.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Hump Day
We have reached the middle of the week. Hump day, as my mum calls it. What is it about Wednesdays that are so hard? There are still two days till the weekend. Of course this weekend is going to be great, my parents and little brother are down as part of their summer vacation. After visiting me they are off to Antietam (my little brother is slightly obsessed with the Civil War.
The real question is what do we do while they are in Philly? There so much we could do. Zoo, Museums, and Parks. Of course my Dad hurt his knee so we can't do to much walking. Of course what I really need is a NFT (Not for Tourist) book. I think I might buy one tonight. Definably since I need to know where the best places are around the city, and how much they cost...
So I guess I just have to make it though hump day and rehearsal later tonight... fun.
The real question is what do we do while they are in Philly? There so much we could do. Zoo, Museums, and Parks. Of course my Dad hurt his knee so we can't do to much walking. Of course what I really need is a NFT (Not for Tourist) book. I think I might buy one tonight. Definably since I need to know where the best places are around the city, and how much they cost...
So I guess I just have to make it though hump day and rehearsal later tonight... fun.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Rice
I felt the need to share what I am eating for lunch today. Rice topped with beef, spinach, and mushrooms. Its not really a stir fry, but close. The important thing is the rice. This is not normal rice, oh no. It is a mixture of white rice, brown rice, wild rice and wheat berries. It is perhaps one of my favorite mixtures I've found so far. Although I really like Jasmine rice as well. There is something amazing about good rice, whether its the sticky white stuff you get at the Chinese restaurant, or the super healthy mixture you buy in the store.
The other part to all of this is the diversity. We don't really think about it but most of the 'staples' we think about as being important to a meal can be very diverse. Potatoes for instance naturally occure in several colors, ranging from purple/blue to tan/white, with red and yellow in the mix. And that's not even touching on sweet potatoes. Than there is rice, wild, white, brown, yellow... need I go on? Diversity is the best thing about food! About life for that matter. No only is it better to eat rather diverse things, but in growing diverse things one is more likely to have a successful garden every year, one thing or even two things might not produce well one year, but everything else does fine. Although I think green beans grow well no matter what.
So let me climb up on my soup box. If being diverse in food is good, growing and eating. Does it follow that being diverse in life is a good thing? People from different back grounds and histories seem to always disagree, and yet that mixture is what we need, we need diversity to better understand ourselves and our brothers and sisters. Alright I'll step down and go back to eating my rice, but it is a thought.
The other part to all of this is the diversity. We don't really think about it but most of the 'staples' we think about as being important to a meal can be very diverse. Potatoes for instance naturally occure in several colors, ranging from purple/blue to tan/white, with red and yellow in the mix. And that's not even touching on sweet potatoes. Than there is rice, wild, white, brown, yellow... need I go on? Diversity is the best thing about food! About life for that matter. No only is it better to eat rather diverse things, but in growing diverse things one is more likely to have a successful garden every year, one thing or even two things might not produce well one year, but everything else does fine. Although I think green beans grow well no matter what.
So let me climb up on my soup box. If being diverse in food is good, growing and eating. Does it follow that being diverse in life is a good thing? People from different back grounds and histories seem to always disagree, and yet that mixture is what we need, we need diversity to better understand ourselves and our brothers and sisters. Alright I'll step down and go back to eating my rice, but it is a thought.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Thunder Storms
Thunder storms are amazing. Sunday, after being extremely hot all on Saturday and trying to sleep in 85 degrees (which was the low that night), I decided to walk to church, a good 45 to 50 minute walk. The walk was in part because I was feeling poor, in part because I really just wanted to walk, and mostly just because I could. At least the church building was air conditioned. Then afterwards I walked to the bus stop and made my way home. After having lunch I packed up my laundry and headed to the Laundromat, which was gross and hot. Even with several fans blowing I was drenched in sweat after 10 minutes. Then right as I was getting ready to pull my dry laundry out of the dryer, it begins to pour. I had missed an hint of the storm coming, other then the gathering darkness.
Luckily by the time I was done folding my laundry the rain had slowed to a gentle mist. I made my way back to my apartment with a bag of laundry, a purse, a jug of laundry detergent, and an umbrella over my head (I'm sure I looked ridiculous). Once in my apartment I threw open all the windows in the hope of getting rid of all the hot air. Of course 20 minutes later I was closing them again as the heavens decided it was time to open up and I had rain driving its self into my apartment.
The wonderful thing is that last night it was a whole 10 degrees cooler in my room and I slept amazingly. 75 is so much better then 85. I love thunder storms!
Luckily by the time I was done folding my laundry the rain had slowed to a gentle mist. I made my way back to my apartment with a bag of laundry, a purse, a jug of laundry detergent, and an umbrella over my head (I'm sure I looked ridiculous). Once in my apartment I threw open all the windows in the hope of getting rid of all the hot air. Of course 20 minutes later I was closing them again as the heavens decided it was time to open up and I had rain driving its self into my apartment.
The wonderful thing is that last night it was a whole 10 degrees cooler in my room and I slept amazingly. 75 is so much better then 85. I love thunder storms!
Friday, July 23, 2010
Yell'n
I've seen so many things, the death of all that should not have been
I've seen the sky black, the ground grey, the tree dead, the grass sway,
sway away, away, away.
I heard the howl of the night, where cool cats of old played and told,
stories in the dank back rooms of jazz clubs, spoke of sweet freedom
somehow found the grace to continue in the heat, dense, forest
of broken Harlem, broken New York City, broken world
That howl, driving those many out towards the death of a generation,
of everything that generation had to offer, like some collector waiting
or perhaps darkness came too early for those wanting to break out,
get out, get even, get real, get far, get freedom.
Oh sweet freedom, sweat it out, speak it, swear it, love and despise it.
Sing us a song please? of concrete jungles, steel structures (breaking bending)
people living too close together, the TV goddess which harms our brain children
death of imagination, streets going no where ending every where.
That Song would last a long time, the city would move toward evening then day
the ghosts of those poets long dead, few remembered, would break out
beating which ever, what ever rhythm they wanted, a confused bunch
raising hell or voices or hope or whispering in pain.
That city would live long in the presence of those great, who marched
by numbers, deaths, songs, lives, crys, who carried us forward,
though we had yet breathed our first breath, we who would soon forget
the triumphs of what they fought so hard to give us, show us, force
on those yet to be imagined or dreamed of in that darkness before
golden years of light or sun could be risen from ash or dust or death.
So death has taken away the past and will someday take me too, but the city
this city with its concrete steel boned rock strewn streets will bend
mold melt renew into new concrete glass heights which still forget
still back some over others other kinds different kinds new kinds.
City oh my city darkness and light, in the molding of brick buildings which
hide the people of lesser means, minds, money, hope, or brings the spotlight
out against those trying to get by, get lost, get forgotten, get get get.
I dream the death of the past and wondered what the future will say of me,
of my dreams past future needs hopes family friends, ruff cut diamonds
or polished brass till trumpets sounds and call us up away anew.
Maybe I'll just howl ramble start yell'n wondering where and how and by,
till the movement changes morphs moves, till history gives us more information,
when we find a real relationship or rivers running deeper in rage
or through green pastures with all that is left of shambles and life.
Yell'n Yell'n Yell'n that all that I am will like those of the past,
leave something remotely interesting or maybe just words, which
like a Bard everyone studies, words, words, words, might be all
letters in random connections groups writings of madmen and liers.
And in the jazz filled rooms dripping in drink drugs and damned girls,
something was born that freed those words, people, animals, humans.
Blood red, our connection or maybe our separation, one always over the other
yet everything always together, separate together two and one and more
everyone whats that history to be different or theirs or better or true
so some memory planted can live with little water or die on the floor
like so many do, a rat in the sewer redeemed or not still a rat.
So tell me what you think of that history we share, the human race
racing towards some end need hope dream future unknown unheeded unneeded
can we free our selves from systems governments religion chains pains
while keeping hearts minds and bodies inline with our souls with each other
can we keep all together and still remember our blood is all red?
Hubcaps cool cats deathtraps hard raps needs and beggin' in the dark streets
this city will remember what I didn't do will bleed my dreams out
onto the concrete streets which vomit up my life and gives me my dreams
on street corners subway trains stone bricks or empty fields out of reach
of the night lights which search me out and go right through me.
And all those words thoughts dreams hopes needs given down the rabbit hole of
some demented nightmare prepare to keep us still keep us in
so that history can not teach us a lesson nor future learn a truth
till darkness dies lit to the extent and blood cleans white
till freedom means enslaving every man women and child to love
till words loss meaning and keep repeating that age old answer
till someone find and speaks the whole truth, I'm yell'n.
I've seen the sky black, the ground grey, the tree dead, the grass sway,
sway away, away, away.
I heard the howl of the night, where cool cats of old played and told,
stories in the dank back rooms of jazz clubs, spoke of sweet freedom
somehow found the grace to continue in the heat, dense, forest
of broken Harlem, broken New York City, broken world
That howl, driving those many out towards the death of a generation,
of everything that generation had to offer, like some collector waiting
or perhaps darkness came too early for those wanting to break out,
get out, get even, get real, get far, get freedom.
Oh sweet freedom, sweat it out, speak it, swear it, love and despise it.
Sing us a song please? of concrete jungles, steel structures (breaking bending)
people living too close together, the TV goddess which harms our brain children
death of imagination, streets going no where ending every where.
That Song would last a long time, the city would move toward evening then day
the ghosts of those poets long dead, few remembered, would break out
beating which ever, what ever rhythm they wanted, a confused bunch
raising hell or voices or hope or whispering in pain.
That city would live long in the presence of those great, who marched
by numbers, deaths, songs, lives, crys, who carried us forward,
though we had yet breathed our first breath, we who would soon forget
the triumphs of what they fought so hard to give us, show us, force
on those yet to be imagined or dreamed of in that darkness before
golden years of light or sun could be risen from ash or dust or death.
So death has taken away the past and will someday take me too, but the city
this city with its concrete steel boned rock strewn streets will bend
mold melt renew into new concrete glass heights which still forget
still back some over others other kinds different kinds new kinds.
City oh my city darkness and light, in the molding of brick buildings which
hide the people of lesser means, minds, money, hope, or brings the spotlight
out against those trying to get by, get lost, get forgotten, get get get.
I dream the death of the past and wondered what the future will say of me,
of my dreams past future needs hopes family friends, ruff cut diamonds
or polished brass till trumpets sounds and call us up away anew.
Maybe I'll just howl ramble start yell'n wondering where and how and by,
till the movement changes morphs moves, till history gives us more information,
when we find a real relationship or rivers running deeper in rage
or through green pastures with all that is left of shambles and life.
Yell'n Yell'n Yell'n that all that I am will like those of the past,
leave something remotely interesting or maybe just words, which
like a Bard everyone studies, words, words, words, might be all
letters in random connections groups writings of madmen and liers.
And in the jazz filled rooms dripping in drink drugs and damned girls,
something was born that freed those words, people, animals, humans.
Blood red, our connection or maybe our separation, one always over the other
yet everything always together, separate together two and one and more
everyone whats that history to be different or theirs or better or true
so some memory planted can live with little water or die on the floor
like so many do, a rat in the sewer redeemed or not still a rat.
So tell me what you think of that history we share, the human race
racing towards some end need hope dream future unknown unheeded unneeded
can we free our selves from systems governments religion chains pains
while keeping hearts minds and bodies inline with our souls with each other
can we keep all together and still remember our blood is all red?
Hubcaps cool cats deathtraps hard raps needs and beggin' in the dark streets
this city will remember what I didn't do will bleed my dreams out
onto the concrete streets which vomit up my life and gives me my dreams
on street corners subway trains stone bricks or empty fields out of reach
of the night lights which search me out and go right through me.
And all those words thoughts dreams hopes needs given down the rabbit hole of
some demented nightmare prepare to keep us still keep us in
so that history can not teach us a lesson nor future learn a truth
till darkness dies lit to the extent and blood cleans white
till freedom means enslaving every man women and child to love
till words loss meaning and keep repeating that age old answer
till someone find and speaks the whole truth, I'm yell'n.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Buzz
I have three really itchy mosquito bits. And annoyingly nothing seems to be helping. Why is it that those little bugs can find the most annoying places to bit you? Sadly its as if the City gets the worst of nature. Weeds, thistles, and mosquito. You never see wild flowers volunteering themselves between the cracks in the sidewalks or in the green lots. But also all the wild animals in the city are just annoying or destructive. Squirrels are scary in the city, there are rats and mice, and the flying version of both pigeons and sparrows.
Of course I have seen some lightening bugs in the city, which is cool. And I hear crickets most nights. But that seems to be the only thing that really reminds me of summer at home. And the lightening bugs here seem to be aliens searching unable to compete with the artificial lights of the city streets. And between the sirens and the cars endlessly driving on the streets the crickets are barely heard. Even the trees are different in the city, they are like caged beasts strangely unfamiliar and very distant from their brothers and sisters in the forests. And Why? Because Man (And I mean this in the humankind sense) thinks it can do better. Man thinks it can control what is meant to be wild. Maybe I'm a country girl stuck too long in the city, or maybe I am scared of losing that sense of beauty and wonder while in a world of concrete and metal.
Of course I have seen some lightening bugs in the city, which is cool. And I hear crickets most nights. But that seems to be the only thing that really reminds me of summer at home. And the lightening bugs here seem to be aliens searching unable to compete with the artificial lights of the city streets. And between the sirens and the cars endlessly driving on the streets the crickets are barely heard. Even the trees are different in the city, they are like caged beasts strangely unfamiliar and very distant from their brothers and sisters in the forests. And Why? Because Man (And I mean this in the humankind sense) thinks it can do better. Man thinks it can control what is meant to be wild. Maybe I'm a country girl stuck too long in the city, or maybe I am scared of losing that sense of beauty and wonder while in a world of concrete and metal.
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