On a whim, I set a goal to read 60 books in 2011. Seemed a realistic, but satisfying number. And I'm pleased to report that, as of about the midway point, I'm ahead of schedule at 45.
Those playing the home version of Zen's Book Bingo, will find several of the "usual suspect" authors and series and genres on this (half) year's list.
One pleasantly surprising new-to-me author this year is Jim Butcher. People have been telling me for years that I'd like the stories of Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire. But I just never got around to picking one up before. So glad I did: Part gritty hard-boiled detective, part urban fantasy, all fun.
I also really enjoyed Wil Wheaton's latest stories as well as Dark Horse Graphic Novels based on Firefly/Serenity and The Guild.
And I still totally want to lick Ilona Andrews' brain every time I read something new of hers (theirs) - they are just so deliciously fun!
But, hey, here's the whole list ... check it out ...
What have YOU been reading lately? I love book recommendations! In fact, if you're on GoodReads, or PaperBackSwap, pop over and "friend" me, so I can poke my nose into your reading list. ;)
Words, words, words,
Zen
"I have always imagined that Paradise will be some kind of library."
~ Jorge Luis Borges
*Mostly Harmless
11 July 2011
Give sorrow words
"Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break."
~ William Shakespeare Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 3
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
Death is a wound - a hole where our loved one used to fit snugly.
It might be a violent puncture, leaving you bleeding out and fighting for every breath. It might be a slow burn, devouring you by inches. It might be an illness, weakening you from within.
We know, from experience, the wound will heal over. Time will knit ragged flesh together, transmute the pain to numbness, cover the gaping emptiness with layers of scar tissue.
Still, we fight it, for a while. We huddle over our wounds like protective mothers, hating and loving the pain. Because to heal is to admit that life goes on, that the clocks don't actually stop, that the stars and the moon still shine. Without them.
Every day is a step farther from the love we knew. Every day the now becomes the then. Every day is another layer of memories sliding in on top of the old.
Every day becomes a reminder that our entire lives are spent within the tiniest span between the breaths of the universe.
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
The knowledge would be humbling to the point of paralysis.
If it weren't for those moments.
Those moments that are so beautiful, so painful, so brilliant that they rip the breath from your lungs and scream through your brain: This is life! This is why! This is what is so fucking amazing about this fragile existence that we persevere through the knowledge that we are only candle flickers on an insignificant rock at the ass end of the universe.
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
But, oh, what comes between.
Namaste,
Zen
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break."
~ William Shakespeare Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 3
"Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occurred to you that you don't go on forever. Must have been shattering, stamped into one's memory. And yet, I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all. We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it. Before we know that there are words. Out we come, bloodied and squalling, with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure."
~ Tom Stoppard
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
Death is a wound - a hole where our loved one used to fit snugly.
It might be a violent puncture, leaving you bleeding out and fighting for every breath. It might be a slow burn, devouring you by inches. It might be an illness, weakening you from within.
We know, from experience, the wound will heal over. Time will knit ragged flesh together, transmute the pain to numbness, cover the gaping emptiness with layers of scar tissue.
Still, we fight it, for a while. We huddle over our wounds like protective mothers, hating and loving the pain. Because to heal is to admit that life goes on, that the clocks don't actually stop, that the stars and the moon still shine. Without them.
Every day is a step farther from the love we knew. Every day the now becomes the then. Every day is another layer of memories sliding in on top of the old.
Every day becomes a reminder that our entire lives are spent within the tiniest span between the breaths of the universe.
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
The knowledge would be humbling to the point of paralysis.
If it weren't for those moments.
Those moments that are so beautiful, so painful, so brilliant that they rip the breath from your lungs and scream through your brain: This is life! This is why! This is what is so fucking amazing about this fragile existence that we persevere through the knowledge that we are only candle flickers on an insignificant rock at the ass end of the universe.
"You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? ... If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. ... For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?The ultimate irony is that the knowledge of death is what makes every moment of this life so heart-achingly beautiful. And the ultimate tragedy is that we are so preoccupied with "life" as a whole that we miss SO many of those moments. Because they're not just the big moments. They're the "normal" moments, all day, every day, every moment. If we just stop to live them.
~ Kahlil Gibran
The Prophet
Inhale. Exhale. Gone.
But, oh, what comes between.
Namaste,
Zen
29 June 2011
Where I'm From
I am from science fiction stories and Saturday morning cartoons.
I am from summers that melt and winters that drizzle.
I am from acres of farmland, spring fruit blossoms and fall harvests.
I am from laughing voices raised over classic rock radio in crowded kitchens with kids and pets underfoot; from hand-me-downs and potlucks; camping and fishing; climbing trees and running around barefoot.
I am from mom's patience, dad's temper, brother's humor.
I am from fierceness and freckles.
I am from more-the-merrier and anything-for-family and own-your-choices.
I am from logic and reason, from compassion and kindness, and from just doing the laundry.
I am from the Emerald Isle and the Dust Bowl, pan-fried chicken and homemade biscuits.
I am from hallways lined with photo collages, doorways climbed by faded pencil marks, concrete impregnated with tiny hand prints, cedar chests filled with handmade quilts.
I am from simple homes and strong roots. From extended families and generational gatherings. From births and deaths, celebration and mourning, love and loss - all made better by the sharing.
Inspired by: Where I'm From and SFD and TwoBusy.
Zen
I am from summers that melt and winters that drizzle.
I am from acres of farmland, spring fruit blossoms and fall harvests.
I am from laughing voices raised over classic rock radio in crowded kitchens with kids and pets underfoot; from hand-me-downs and potlucks; camping and fishing; climbing trees and running around barefoot.
I am from mom's patience, dad's temper, brother's humor.
I am from fierceness and freckles.
I am from more-the-merrier and anything-for-family and own-your-choices.
I am from logic and reason, from compassion and kindness, and from just doing the laundry.
I am from the Emerald Isle and the Dust Bowl, pan-fried chicken and homemade biscuits.
I am from hallways lined with photo collages, doorways climbed by faded pencil marks, concrete impregnated with tiny hand prints, cedar chests filled with handmade quilts.
I am from simple homes and strong roots. From extended families and generational gatherings. From births and deaths, celebration and mourning, love and loss - all made better by the sharing.
Inspired by: Where I'm From and SFD and TwoBusy.
Zen
21 June 2011
Better than therapy: Letters I'll never send
Dear Dental Office:
I know I'm OCD, but it's annoying that you force me to confirm my appointment by phone the day before. Um, it's an APPOINTMENT. By DEFINITION, we have both agreed to be there at the appointed time and place. If I can't make it for some reason, I will call and tell you. Because that's what responsible adults DO. Don't make me call just to tell you that I'm NOT breaking the appointment. It's a waste of my time and kind of insulting.
Chronically punctual,
Zen
###
Dear McDonald's:
"Sweet" should not be the default for iced tea. Sugar or sweetener should be an option, not a standard ingredient. But, even if I accept the fact that you make me specify that I DON'T want you to add extra stuff to my drink ... when I clearly and repeatedly make that distinction and you STILL give me sweet tea, it makes me kinda stabby.
Never been accused of being sweet,
Zen
###
Dear Undergarment Industry:
Is a DD-cup sports bra that actually supports without suffocating REALLY so difficult? Really?! I mean, the world is full of engineering marvels, but comfortable full-figured underwear is beyond the reach of modern science? All I want is to be able to run and jump and throw some kicks and punches without giving myself black eyes or cinching myself into a whalebone corset. Is that really too much to ask?
And as long as we're on the subject, can you please 'splain to me why >D sizes cost so much more than A-C? It's - what? - an extra 6 inches of fabric and underwire? I suspect your overhead is not so adversely affected that I should really have to pay half-again to twice as much as the less-endowed ladies. But, if you ARE going to overcharge me, could you at least make the a few more of the pretty ones in full-figure sizes, too? The C cups get a lovely variety of colors and patterns and fabrics to pick from, and the curvy girls get to choose between the exotic options of "white" and "nude" in cotton or polyester? Seriously, bra dudes, not cool.
Desperately Seeking Support Garments,
Zen
###
Dear "Gentlemen" standing around outside the store:
There's a difference between an appreciative glance and a predatory stare. The first might get you a smile. The second is likely to get you a sidekick to the knee if you step any closer.
Just sayin',
Zen
###
Dear iPad auto-correct:
If you don't stop changing "onezenmom" to "obese mom", Ima sit on you.
Just fluffy,
Zen
###
Dear Gods of Potty Training:
Please just tell me what animal you need me to sacrifice to get my now-4-year-old to learn to love the potty. Pleeeeeeeeaaaaassssssee?!?!?! We're going on 7 years of diapers and Pull-Ups and I'm just about at my limit here. I've tried every method and tip and trick in the book, and even made up a few more - no joy.
Ready for some divine intervention,
Zen
I know I'm OCD, but it's annoying that you force me to confirm my appointment by phone the day before. Um, it's an APPOINTMENT. By DEFINITION, we have both agreed to be there at the appointed time and place. If I can't make it for some reason, I will call and tell you. Because that's what responsible adults DO. Don't make me call just to tell you that I'm NOT breaking the appointment. It's a waste of my time and kind of insulting.
Chronically punctual,
Zen
###
Dear McDonald's:
"Sweet" should not be the default for iced tea. Sugar or sweetener should be an option, not a standard ingredient. But, even if I accept the fact that you make me specify that I DON'T want you to add extra stuff to my drink ... when I clearly and repeatedly make that distinction and you STILL give me sweet tea, it makes me kinda stabby.
Never been accused of being sweet,
Zen
###
Dear Undergarment Industry:
Is a DD-cup sports bra that actually supports without suffocating REALLY so difficult? Really?! I mean, the world is full of engineering marvels, but comfortable full-figured underwear is beyond the reach of modern science? All I want is to be able to run and jump and throw some kicks and punches without giving myself black eyes or cinching myself into a whalebone corset. Is that really too much to ask?
And as long as we're on the subject, can you please 'splain to me why >D sizes cost so much more than A-C? It's - what? - an extra 6 inches of fabric and underwire? I suspect your overhead is not so adversely affected that I should really have to pay half-again to twice as much as the less-endowed ladies. But, if you ARE going to overcharge me, could you at least make the a few more of the pretty ones in full-figure sizes, too? The C cups get a lovely variety of colors and patterns and fabrics to pick from, and the curvy girls get to choose between the exotic options of "white" and "nude" in cotton or polyester? Seriously, bra dudes, not cool.
Desperately Seeking Support Garments,
Zen
###
Dear "Gentlemen" standing around outside the store:
There's a difference between an appreciative glance and a predatory stare. The first might get you a smile. The second is likely to get you a sidekick to the knee if you step any closer.
Just sayin',
Zen
###
Dear iPad auto-correct:
If you don't stop changing "onezenmom" to "obese mom", Ima sit on you.
Just fluffy,
Zen
###
Dear Gods of Potty Training:
Please just tell me what animal you need me to sacrifice to get my now-4-year-old to learn to love the potty. Pleeeeeeeeaaaaassssssee?!?!?! We're going on 7 years of diapers and Pull-Ups and I'm just about at my limit here. I've tried every method and tip and trick in the book, and even made up a few more - no joy.
Ready for some divine intervention,
Zen
20 May 2011
And you people mocked my Zombie Attack Plans
Who's laughing now, eh?
I've been saying for years that waiting until the walking dead are on your doorstep to worry about your armory is just asking to become a brain-buffet. My Zombie Apocalypse motto: Plan ahead!
So, how much do I love the CDC this week:
The Centers for Disease Control: Preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse
Okay, seriously, this is a hilarious and totally effective marketing strategy on the part of the CDC. The PR-Chick side of my brain is giving them a big ol' standing O for it.
BUT ... the geek side of my brain (which may arguably be the more dominant lobe), is screaming: "Dude, that list is fine for your standard earthquake or tsunami or pandemic, but these are the walking dead we're taking about! You're gonna need more than some jugs of water, a change of clothes and some duct tape!" (Though duct tape IS one of the staples of my own ZAP* Kit .)
Which is where this brilliant bit of journalism - featuring the awesomely funny Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) - comes in:
Washington Post: CDC prepares for Zombie Apocalypse: tips on how to survive
Like Jenny, I believe in being prepared. Which is why we have this little gem on the shelf, right next to the first aid kit.
All due respect to the CDC, if you really want to survive the impending Zombie Apocalypse, I suggest supplementing the CDC's list with a weekend at home with a stack of zombie flicks and a fresh notebook. My personal favorites:
Now, to be honest, some of these are going to offer good and useful advice for the Zombie Apocalypse. Others ... well, you're gonna want to take notes on what NOT to do. I leave figuring out which is which as an exercise for the student.
Your turn: Any movies or books or other study guides that you would add to the list?
Locked and loaded,
Zen
*ZAP: Zombie Attack Plan. Patent Pending.
I've been saying for years that waiting until the walking dead are on your doorstep to worry about your armory is just asking to become a brain-buffet. My Zombie Apocalypse motto: Plan ahead!
So, how much do I love the CDC this week:
The Centers for Disease Control: Preparing for the Zombie Apocalypse
Okay, seriously, this is a hilarious and totally effective marketing strategy on the part of the CDC. The PR-Chick side of my brain is giving them a big ol' standing O for it.
BUT ... the geek side of my brain (which may arguably be the more dominant lobe), is screaming: "Dude, that list is fine for your standard earthquake or tsunami or pandemic, but these are the walking dead we're taking about! You're gonna need more than some jugs of water, a change of clothes and some duct tape!" (Though duct tape IS one of the staples of my own ZAP* Kit .)
Which is where this brilliant bit of journalism - featuring the awesomely funny Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) - comes in:
Washington Post: CDC prepares for Zombie Apocalypse: tips on how to survive
Like Jenny, I believe in being prepared. Which is why we have this little gem on the shelf, right next to the first aid kit.
All due respect to the CDC, if you really want to survive the impending Zombie Apocalypse, I suggest supplementing the CDC's list with a weekend at home with a stack of zombie flicks and a fresh notebook. My personal favorites:
- Shaun of the Dead
- Zombieland
- Night of the Living Dead (The 1968 original AND 1990 remake)
- Dawn of the Dead
- Resident Evil (And it's sequels)
- Night of the Comet
Now, to be honest, some of these are going to offer good and useful advice for the Zombie Apocalypse. Others ... well, you're gonna want to take notes on what NOT to do. I leave figuring out which is which as an exercise for the student.
Your turn: Any movies or books or other study guides that you would add to the list?
Locked and loaded,
Zen
*ZAP: Zombie Attack Plan. Patent Pending.
19 May 2011
Zen's Brain on Drugs: The Rapture Edition!
I'm on cold meds. I hardly ever take cold meds - or, really, almost any kind of meds besides OTC pain relievers. Because they make me all loopy - like light-headed and silly and kinda philosophical and babbly. (Think college freshman after three shots of Tequila.)
On the rare occassions when I DO take meds, I try not operate any heavy machinery - including my blog. Cuz when I do, it usually results in things like this. (Warning, that link is not for the faint of heart.)
But, I've been neglecting the old blog lately, so, I figure a meds-induced babble-fest is better than nothing, right? Hmm. We'll see.
So, compliments of ample parts pseudoephedrine, brompheniramine maleate, dextromethorphan hydrobromide, phenylephrine hydrocholride and probably some other things I can't pronounce - I bring you:
It's the End of the World as we Know It ... Again
Apparently there are people - as in plural ... as in more than one ... as in several, even* - who actually believe they are going to be physically transported to Heaven this Saturday.
Seriously? No. Really. Seriously?!?!
I've been vacillating between "so stupid it's not even worth mentioning" and "What the Flagnar?!" on this all week.
Because, on the one hand, it's too ridiculous to even be worth talking about, right? But, on the other, it kind of makes me LOL - especially when I read things like this:
Okay, I'm back to "What the Flagnar?!" again.
But I have to seriously wonder: What does a True Believer do on the day after the last day, when the world just keeps on keepin' on? I have to admin, that thought kinda scares me.
See you Sunday,
Zen
* You know what the best part of this particular lil' rant is? If I'm wrong, the people who would could say "I told you so" won't be around to do so.
On the rare occassions when I DO take meds, I try not operate any heavy machinery - including my blog. Cuz when I do, it usually results in things like this. (Warning, that link is not for the faint of heart.)
But, I've been neglecting the old blog lately, so, I figure a meds-induced babble-fest is better than nothing, right? Hmm. We'll see.
So, compliments of ample parts pseudoephedrine, brompheniramine maleate, dextromethorphan hydrobromide, phenylephrine hydrocholride and probably some other things I can't pronounce - I bring you:
It's the End of the World as we Know It ... Again
Apparently there are people - as in plural ... as in more than one ... as in several, even* - who actually believe they are going to be physically transported to Heaven this Saturday.
Seriously? No. Really. Seriously?!?!
I've been vacillating between "so stupid it's not even worth mentioning" and "What the Flagnar?!" on this all week.
Because, on the one hand, it's too ridiculous to even be worth talking about, right? But, on the other, it kind of makes me LOL - especially when I read things like this:
Christopher Moore: "Hey, the rapture falls on a Saturday! How cool is that. I guess I won't be driving. Not early in the day, anyway. Later in the day, I will probably be driving a really nice car with some fish bumper stickers and shit on it. Give a little time to scrape them off."But, on another hand (Shut up, I might have three hands. You don't know. I told you I'm on drugs!) ... it also makes me kinda sad. That people are that ... I dunno, desperate, deluded, divorced from reality? ... that they seriously believe not only that their god is going to beam them up to heaven a la Star Trek, but that some random radio personality from Oakland has "cracked the code" (like their god is some kind of hobby cryptographer fucking around with his lab rats by planting random clues about the location of their cheese) and can tell them exactly when it's going to happen. Again. Because, you know, he got it wrong the first time - as did, well, everyone who has ever predicted the end of the world. But, hey, that was a just a math error - could happen to anyone! But this time, he's sure.
Okay, I'm back to "What the Flagnar?!" again.
But I have to seriously wonder: What does a True Believer do on the day after the last day, when the world just keeps on keepin' on? I have to admin, that thought kinda scares me.
See you Sunday,
Zen
* You know what the best part of this particular lil' rant is? If I'm wrong, the people who would could say "I told you so" won't be around to do so.
05 April 2011
Our lives are made In these small hours
Oh, this is a lovely reminder that life is made of moments.
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." ~ Buddha
Not taking it for granted,
Zen
* Post Title: Little Wonders, Rob Thomas
"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." ~ Buddha
Not taking it for granted,
Zen
* Post Title: Little Wonders, Rob Thomas
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