Refocused

I’m taking a little break from this blog. I’m amazed that I  kept it up for over a year, but between biking instead of walking and feeling like I’m close to exhausting the subject matter, I think it’s time for a change.  I’ve started a new blog that is a little broader is scope.  It is called Utopia for Cynics.

Haiku Friday!

So many journeys

But still so much yet to see.

Passport renewal

Look into my eyes

I hate to go on about these young “volunteers’ invading the town, but they are quite literally everywhere I turn. This year they are sporting bright green back packs, so they are easy to see. I was surprised (maybe not surprised) to learn that there are others who are not overjoyed at their being here.  I’ve heard from no fewer than three people about their disruptive effects on traffic.  I haven’t had the need to drive since they’ve been here, but I have had to navigate my bike through their jaywalking hordes.  I try to take the opportunity to impart my primary message to them: “You have more to learn from being here than you have to teach.”  I do this with my eyebrows, and sometimes with my nostrils if I am particularly agitated.

Haiku Friday!

Like the Wicked Witch

Riding the tornado’s edge,

I outran the rain

It’s like 2009 all over again

I think they are back. The Lutherans that is.  There seems to be a marked increase in buses full of young people with water bottles.  These buses aren’t the ordinary convention shuttles, either.  Like last year, the drivers of these giant coaches are attempting to maneuver them on the narrow one-way streets of downtown (last year, I saw one in the Quarter– illegally, mind you– that got stuck trying to make a turn). I think that means that they brought their own drivers down.

As it happens, I’m still not thrilled to have them here. I think it might have to do  that particular brand of adolescent energy you get in youth groups mixed with religious mandate.  There seems to be too much potential for pity, judgment and airborne hormone exposure.

I’m pretty sure it can’t be right for me to hold such negative opinions of a group of young people trying to do good and enjoy themselves.  I’ve made a promise to myself to devote some meditation time to discovering what I really have a problem with. In the meantime, I’ll just try to hold my breath as I pass them on the street.

Groovy Nun

In my 1970′s youth I was exposed to what I have come to realize was a significant amount of Catholic clergy.  Don’t worry, this blog post does not take a sudden turn toward the sinister.  These exposures were not of the literally revealing kind.  However, I did come to recognize a particular type of clergy that I will call the “groovy nun.”  The groovy nun was the subversive type of sister that would wear an “alternative” habit that made her virtually undetectable to the uninitiated. I think that the groovy nun was attempting to be down to earth and not, like her predecessors the scary nuns, Holier Than Thou.  Of course their under-the-radar, undercover approach had the opposite effect. Their acoustic guitar accompanied, folk music hymns could easily lull you into thinking that they had not taken a lifetime vow to judge your appearance, language, thoughts and immortal soul. Because after all, a nun is a nun, right?

So why is this not an Unrelated Aside?  As is happens, I seem to have bought what can only be described as a groovy nun dress.  In the groovy nun tradition, it is a solid, somber color (brown in this case) with a small bit of white trim.  It has an almost flattering silhouette, but is far from being revealing, especially by modern standards.

All of that changes when you get on a bike and ride to work, though.  It turns out the groovy nun dress is a little shorter, a little more fly-away that your typical bride of God might want.  Fortunately  for me, I’m not a nun.  I’m just a heathen trying to get to work. My best bet is it put on my headphones and pretend I don’t hear the cars honking and the construction workers whistling.

Haiku Friday!

Highlight of my week:

Helping my house-bound friend smile

With Young Frankenstein

The panoply of human endeavor

I’m a big fan of public transportation. In fact, my first real concerted efforts in haiku composition were based on my experiences on the intimate Carrollton Express and the transcendent Tulane buses back when I didn’t own a car.  I have been known to get quite tetchy if someone happens to malign the public transportation system (though regular service has not yet resumed since the storm). These people have either never bothered to consult the schedule or they had deluded themselves into thinking that the bus was something like a limousine service.  In truth for the vast majority of the time, the bus does exactly what it says it will do– transport the masses. Perhaps it’s the masses they don’t like.

The reorganized and re-routed bus lines have actually brought us an amazing bonus. It always makes me smile to see the front marquis of an RTA bus announcing the season– Merry Christmas or Happy Mardi Gras– or congratulating the Saints, but there is actually an everyday bus announcement that tops all that.  There is now a bus that travels from the Lower Garden District, all the way to Faubourg St. John, from Jackson and Tchoupitoulas to City Park. Such trans-Canal journeys are rare but very useful.  The best thing about that bus line, though, is the marquis, which announces that the bus will take you from Wal-mart to the Art Museum. What else could you want?

Haiku Friday!

Flipping through photos

Nostalgia for my old life

Hold on or let go?

Walking the dog

I spent the past week taking care of my sister’s dog with the idea that it was something of a trial run.  My sister is looking for a new home for Whiskers (named by her son, by the way), and I’ve often toyed with the notion of getting a dog myself. Perhaps I have the need for some living being to be excited about seeing me.

As trial runs go, it served its purpose. He is a sweet dog and reasonably well-behaved, but we are not well matched.  In short, he is an extroverted little pooch.  When he is not sleeping or eating, he wants, or rather expects, some sort of play time. He normally lives with two people, one of whom is an 11 year old boy, so he is used to a fair amount of human attention.  I normally live alone, so during non-work hours, I generally give my human attention to bartenders and Tennis Channel.  Whiskers’ alert and eager insistence was kind of cute, but it was also indicated that he needed more than I could give.

Here’s the other thing: It seemed like the humans also wanted more of my attention when I was walking Whiskers.  First they’d notice him and say something like, “Look at that cute little dog” (he is a very cute little dog). Then they would look up at me expectantly, as if to say “Did you notice how I noticed your dog? We both like your cute dog!”  I don’t remember this happening before with my other dogs. It may be a combination of factors unique to my current situation– Whiskers is an un-intimidating  little dog, I walk him in a tourist zone.

Really, it might be me, though.  I was probably 80% more likely to engage with someone who complimented my dog six years ago than I am now.  I think I’ll chalk that up to getting older and the way the humans have been portrayed on reality TV.