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A Fluid Hieroglyph
A Fluid Hieroglyph
http://joshuahale.wordpress.com/

moved to see if I can sprout some new wings!
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I just woke from a nap and realized that my biological father has finally missed out for good. It dawned on me that the extent of our relationship, for the most part, has been the annual phone call and birthday card with 50 dollars in it, that I relished as a child, dreaded as an adolescent, and wondered what would happen as I became an adult. That I am a full grown man and that he is a full grown man and that we are nearly complete strangers to one another. How sad it is to think about a parent missing out on a child due to circumstance.

Things have been busy with work, and I am starting my third full week of school on Monday, which is also my 27th birthday(so my biological musings above are not completely random, just mostly). I have been happy and tired and not eating breakfast these days which is totally strange for me. What time me and Marina find together is usually cuddled up at night laughing at the Cosby show or watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent, walking in Tree Tops County Park or picking shells up in the surf at Hollywood Beach, and making pizza.

I have not done much of any non-required reading in the last 3 weeks which is crazy to me, especially when I think of friends that didn't get to do non-required reading for 4 years in college. Scary thought! I have futzed around with a little Czeslaw Milosz and kinda like the guy, I can't put my hand on it yet.

Off to study more about Infant CPR!
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I still wake each morning
and am overwhelmed by the
gift of my wife,
sleeping there beside me.

I watch for a moment

and turn my body to wrap
around hers, accept the
radiating warmth,
and fall back asleep.
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It's hot. I seem to think about it a lot. My arms stick to tables and my pants feel almost damp in the morning with humidity. It is hard not to curl up in bed in some sort of tropical torpor. I wonder if I will get lazy this summer. Food may very well take on the form of salad for the next few months. Tofu, potato, 3 bean, you name it. Any recipe ideas out there?

I just spent the better part of two hours relearning basic algebra, if that, really, because it was all order of operations and set rules. Fun to just sit down and slog through. I am reading The God Particle by Leon Lederman(it is about the Higgs boson which is predicted by the standard model, though not yet confirmed experimentally -the large hadron collider in France is supposed to set out to find it, once they fix they magnets or some such) and whenever I pick up physics books I feel terrible at my lousy math skills and then plan to shore them up. And never do.

We have been visiting different parks in the area, which I have enjoyed minus seeing the apparently poisonous banana spider. I just looked it up and it is venomous but not deadly. Phew. I spent the rest of our last walk on the lookout.

I began to write a story and stopped, and now wonder if I really have the heart of a writer, if my love of books and voracious reading has been enough of an education to begin trying myself. I am yet to go back to it-- it has only been two days-- but I find myself equally intrigued with math or vinegar making. A curse really, I have never been able to choose and then fully dedicate to an academic pursuit. Be it fluttering between ideas about science or writing or philosophy to not being able to focus on a single instrument; instead end up half assedly playing violin, guitar, piano, etc.

Now to await Marina's shift to end so that we can sit side by side in bed and read for hours, unable to keep from touching despite the heat. Laugh and suffer in this heat, pant and stare at the ceiling in the breeze of the fan.
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I somehow expected life to break down the
hopelessly romantic sides of us all. But
it doesn't. If anything it is only further
forevered by those we are bound to, and those
we love; solidified, and made permanent.
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It is hot already. Sweating, trying to play reels that are a bit fast for the temperature(I learned them all in the dead of winter really, so it always feels funny to sweat beneath violin and bow). In the bathroom I could hear the breeze in the palm fronds which still reminded me of one hundred other indistinct and lazy summer days passed. It is only March.

We went to the beach yesterday and the initial step into the water still felt cold and I called out, "The ocean is never warm!" and changed my tune a minute or so later, begrudgingly, when it indeed became warm. We picked at shells on the beach, ones I am used to only seeing in books. New England is good for mussels and periwinkles and crabs. The coral here is strange! There were also some things I thought were plastic, but I think living on further examination. They looked like bulls-eyes bisected by a top fin? They were neonish blue and slimey, or clear and hard if completely dried out. Anyone? We collected shells and sea glass, and Marina passed me a thin white piece, with a deep red center, from her mouth to mine. The soft, worn, salted chip of bone.

I am having fun reading Paradise Lost, of all things. No, I still haven't found work and baring any further complications I ought to be starting school on the 23rd.
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If we keep deciding to print more money?
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It feels strange not to work, when wanting to work. People that know me know that I love extended vacations and basically only work 6-8 months out of the year anyway, one of the perks of seasonal work. Problem is, I want to be working, hell, need to be working. Unemployment is at 7.6% the news says, 600,000 some jobs lost in January. I see this first hand when I apply for a job at the SPCA when they have 4 openings and within the first two days of the ad going up they have 70 applicants. 70? For the SPCA??? Also, the workforce is turning over with woman most likely about to play the dominant role in the work force, numerically anyway. (I apologize to anyone else that reads the NYTimes too)

This makes Marina being the "bread winner" an occurrence which is becoming more and more normal. I drop her off at work, come home and look for work(anyone know anything better then Craigslist these days?), try to play a little bit of music or chess, then head out to her work and read the last couple hours of her shift then I mop up while she closes the rest of the place. Even wash windows!

Even with reading a ton it is hard not to feel stagnant. I left my work in Massachusetts on August 28th. I am lucky to have such an understanding wife! Hopefully, starting school in March will make me feel a ton better about myself so that I can have a good job for Tampa and to reverse support roles while she goes to school.

We've purchased a pressure cooker to save money a bit by using dried beans. Beer has drained out of the budget as well as excess food spending. Strange to be living this way after the last couple years, saving up(thankfully!) and just being far from broke for what felt like so long. I guess we are another story, just like the hundreds like this.

This is not to say that it has drained anything out of life, and I hope that stands for those people in even tougher positions. Nights still end with backrubs and laying in one another's arms. Days spent rubbing elbows while reading, cooking, breathing. Thankful for cold nights fit for nothing besides blankets and movies, yes, it can be cold here in southern Florida.

Well, as long as you leave the windows wide open when it is 35 degrees at night. If it is what I can get for a winter type of feeling, I'll take it!
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Curled up, head next to the speakers listening to Ravel's String Quartet in F Major, waiting to see my wife in a couple of hours. How long they can feel.

I cannot defeat the Rubick's cube. For the life of me.

I am currently reading an art history textbook and The Girl Who Trod on a Loaf by Kathryn Davis. Really wishing the opera she described in it, The Harrowing of Lahloo was real.

I have been giving time to Ravel's string quartet trying to discern the links between the movements. I can follow the theme through the first movement and am yet to find much of it in the other three. Just finished a series of listenings to Beethoven's fifth piano concerto, the Emperor Concerto. It was okay, really felt symphonic. Bach's Concerto No.2 I think it was, in Dm, was the first that I really liked. Usually the concerto form, in the limited scope of my listening, was a bit corny to me. Also some Webern and Schoenberg to try and learn a thing or two on the more dissonant fellows out there. I apologize for the butchery that is bound to be in these music notes. I lack the proper vocab, that much is for sure.

I have found something pleasing in the making of pizza dough. Of building a rhythm in the arms while kneading, of placing the quarter turn in the dough, before each pushing movement of the arm, with a single finger. Of building the gluten, stacking, stretching, and feeling the dough shift textures.

Sitting in bed last night I felt the warmth rising from inside of the blankets; it made me think of the smell of bread.
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"What you feel in the presence of a thing you admire is just one word-- 'Yes.' The affirmation, the acceptance, the sign of admittance. And that 'Yes' is more then an answer to one thing, it's a kind of 'Amen' to life, to the earth that holds this thing, to the thought that created it, to yourself for being able to see it. But the ability to say 'Yes' or 'No' is the essence of all ownership. It's your ownership of your own ego. Your soul, if you wish. your soul has a single basic function-- the act of valuing. 'Yes' or 'No', 'I wish' or 'I do not wish.' You can't say 'Yes' without saying 'I.' There's no affirmation without the one who affirms. In this sense, everything to which you grant your love is yours."

Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead
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