Human Raising Her Head to the Universe

IMG_6289 Oh, my little site, how I've neglected you! And if you think I've neglected tori dot gov dot com, you should see my actual journal—poor empty baby.

Like everyone else in the world, I have been very busy. I have been traveling so much, it's like I think it's tax-deductible or something! HA! HA! HA! IRS, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING, RIGHT? I've been struggling to stay on top of work while simultaneously moving forward with "work"—excuse me, MY LEGACY—which would be the most difficult and highly-ranked gymnastics move in the Olympics if I had anything to say about it. I've been editing a dissertation about Ecclesiastes (not mine). I've been reading a little book called The Grapes of Wrath which is a really great book to read in California, because you will end up watering the drought-ridden soil with your own unstoppable tears! Steinbeck, WHO KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU?! And I recently made a spreadsheet only to discover I have nine different sources of income. You say freelancer, I say TRUST FUND.

I'm only here tonight to make a brief point and also to ease my soul of the burden of having an un-updated website (NOT BLOG). Ahem. Tonight, a favorite album reminded me that it's so easy to go through life with your head down: focused on your work, your friends, your love, your goals. But one of the things I like best about the world is, well, it's a WORLD. In a UNIVERSE. And there are certain—shall we say—pieces of art that, I find, have the effect of gently opening me up to the world around me. And it feels insane. It's the best type of vertigo. These particular books/albums/government secrets thrill me in a very specific way, reminding me that there are so many places to go and so much gorgeous unknown stuff in the world. And it's not just about geography, but about time, too—people in the past! Can't forget about them! And speaking of time, what about tesseracts? Which reminds me, I really need to re-read all of Madeline L'Engle— who was one of my favorite authors as a child—because I suspect that going back to her novels would feel like a little personal time-traveling of my own.

I can't tell you what exactly I'm listening to right now that's opening up my world/memories/perceptions like this. Because it's cliché, and because you have to find your own stuff. But only a handful of art gives me this feeling. It's worth seeking it out. And in my experience, that sort of perception-opening-up, human-raising-her-head-to-the-universe experience mostly only happens after midnight—or if you find yourself so lucky as to be sitting outside somewhere in Europe. Or when you're counting your millions, but that's a story for another night.