a letter to dad

Well, I'm glad it's springtime in Kansas, "when the world is puddle-wonderful" (e.e. cummings, probably my favorite poet). That poetic phrase doesn't so much apply here in the desert. Our rainy season is at its peak in February, and the earth sucks up every drop of the rain that turns the mountains green overnight. My new house is awesome! I've taken a few pictures, and I'm going to drop off a roll of film at Walgreens today, so I'll send them out soon. It's great to have so much space. The house was built in the 50s, and all the rooms are large. The front and back yards are big, too. There's a fireplace in the living room, and it's the first time I've lived somewhere with a fireplace since mom and Tim lived in that duplex on Pine St. I love it. There's an orange tree in our back yard, and my friend Hannah is going to bring us a juicer later today so we can make juice from the oranges. The tree has been blooming for the last month or so, and the scent is the most heavenly thing I've ever smelled. There are so many citrus trees in Riverside, pretty much the whole city smells that way. I was reading an autobiography by an Indian woman who was sent to the Indian boarding school in Riverside as a child (there were so many of them across the US, active up until the 50s), and the beginning of one chapter reads, "Riverside: land of oranges. Land of perfume. Time of torture." Talk about bittersweet. Kristin called me a few weeks ago to ask if she could have my furniture from the barn. Honestly, I forgot it was there. I tried to sell all my stuff in a yard sale before I moved to California. But, I'm so glad she can get some use out of it. I've been nostalgic for pictures and journals recently, so I hope to rummage through the barn myself this summer when I come to visit. That is crazy that Lisa is 49! And, wasn't Marleen's birthday not too long ago--end of March? Isn't she 49 or 50 now? Did you two do anything special? I'm glad Devin is still working at Brooksider. I haven't heard from him in so long, I wasn't sure. I knew he'd have an opportunity to move up the ladder, but I didn't think it'd take this long for them to move him to bar-back! I know he'll get a cut of the tips this way, and I bet there's less anxiety behind the bar. That's too bad about Grandpa's intestines. Every year, I learn more and more how significant it is to be aware of and in-tune with my body. Like car parts, my internal organs will only hold up for so long--and, it all depends on how hard I make them work and how often I check in to maintain them. I try to keep them "well-oiled" by drinking tons and tons of filtered tap water (bottled water is so wasteful and not-so-great for you). Over the past three or four years, I've had quite a few digestive problems--constipation, diarrhea, gas, etc.--and have read how common these issues are in our toxic society. I've come to understand that all those antibiotics I used to take as a sick child (for ear infections, sinus infections, bronchial infections, etc.) have permanently diminished my natural supply of "good" bacteria in my body, which help to fight infections naturally and also to digest my food. So, I've increased my consumption of yogurt, which has live, active bacteria cultures ("probiotics" rather than "antibiotics"). Being vegetarian, I can't eat just any yogurt (they make yogurt out of soy, too, for lactose intolerant people, but it doesn't have quite as many probiotics as the kind made from milk). Due to its funky, sour-tart taste, manufacturers add a bunch of sugars and fruits to yogurt to improve the taste, and they also add gelatin, for consistency and preservative properties. Gelatin is not vegetarian; it's made from the marrow of various animals' bones: horses, cows, pigs, etc. So, I've been buying plain, organic yogurt and mixing it in the blender with frozen strawberries and peaches and honey. It's done wonders for me! My allergies are much improved, and my digestive system is like clockwork. The tricky thing about medical science, and all science, is that we can only see the immediate effects. The long-term effects are only available to us in hindsight, after damage has already been done. The more I learn about Native cultures, the more apparent it is to me that they have ALWAYS known what "civilized" people are only now beginning to understand. Maybe yogurt will help grandpa. I'm so happy to hear that you are playing drums again. I really wish I had taken the time to learn. I hope to take lessons some day. I'm taking a hip-hop dance class at UCR right now, which is supposed to be "beginner's level," but it's the most difficult thing I've ever tried in my life. Literally, I have never felt so hopeless and worthless. I'm taking the class "for fun" and to try to get out of my head and more into my body. But, I only think in words. I never have any thoughts that are images or motions--just words. I can remember things I read years ago, but I can't remember a sequence of dance steps I learned just moments before. It's the most horrific feeling, in class when everyone is moving together, but my mind goes blank and I can't remember what comes next, and I panic, and I freeze. And, I'm the only one standing still in a class of 40 students, watching helplessly. After the first day, I thought, "oh that's okay, I did alright for my first try." Then after the second class, I decided, "okay, I never remember anything unless I write it down. I'll just write down the steps, and then I can practice them at home." But when I went to write down the steps--at that point, the class had learned about 32 steps--I could only remember the first four! I started to cry. I cried all the way home, and it got really out of control. I had a panic attack, and I made an appointment with a counselor at school. I'm 25 years old, and I'm just now facing the fact that my entire life I have refused to do anything I couldn't master quickly. I am such a perfectionist, and I am so hard on myself, that I've never learned to feel and memorize body movements. I was always the geek who stood against the wall and refused to participate in gym class because I was so ashamed of my body and its movements; I was mortified by the possibility of failing in front of others. I know I have rhythm. I know rhythm. I know music. But, I don't have the MEMORY to repeat a sequence of steps and motions because I never tried.I am very proud of myself for even enrolling in this class. During class, I don't feel anxious about what others think. All the other students are 18-20 yrs. old, so I'm the oldest, whitest one. I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, and yet that is not what is bothering me--which means I've come a long way! I've grown so much and built up such self-esteem and confidence in my ability to learn and explore new things, and that makes me feel great. But, I'll be working with my counselor about the self-defeating pressure I put on myself to get things right. Another reason I'm going to counseling is for anger. Normally when I'm angry (of course, I've inherited the Coxes' super-short temper), I can sit down and write about how furious I am and about my intense urges to hit, throw, slam, squeeze, choke, prove my power to myself to spite my overwhelming, enraging feelings of impotence; usually, I can write until I'm calm. But lately, my behavior has been out of control and scary. I'm positive this is because of the overabundance of stress I forced myself to take on last quarter and the fact that I didn't really have a spring break to recuperate; I had to spend the entire break grading papers. So now that a new quarter is begun, the old depression is creeping in and demanding that I spend more time on me. Over the past two weeks, I've done something I've NEVER DONE before, that I can recall: I scream. Even at concerts and on roller coasters where screaming is acceptable, I've only ever allowed myself to yell loudly. Well, a few nights ago, I SCREAMED. Like in the movies. Like at the top of my lungs. Twice. In a park, around 10 at night. The build-up was like this: frustration in hip-hop class-->crying and self-loathing-->home to discover my kitty had a nasty puncture wound from I-don't-know-what on his right arm-->rushed him to the vet, which he hates-->I had to stand by helplessly and watch while the vet sodomized my cat with a thermometer, and he screamed so loudly, like someone was killing him. It was ultra traumatic for Butch and for me, and I was furious with the vet, and I started to cry right in her office-->later that night as I tried to give my cat his antibiotics, he freaked out and clawed my face and arm-->I got so angry that I held him down in the most violent manner and forced the medicine-->then I smacked the shit out of the top of his head, picked him up, and threw him forcefully to the ground-->I was so appalled by my monstrous abusiveness that I started to have my second panic attack of the day, ran out of my house and to the neighborhood park where James was jogging. I ran crying so loudly to the park, found him, balled the story. Then I started to jump up and down in place like a little kid, banging my fists on my legs and shouting, "I'm so angry! I'm so angry!" And then, I screamed. Twice. I have strong lungs and a loud voice. Some neighbor dude came out of his house and stood in the middle of the street, looking in my direction and shouting, "Are you okay?" It was so embarrassing, and James and I were both worried someone would call the cops. So, we walked home. The very next morning, I threw another temper tantrum. Butch is supposed to stay inside until his leg heals, and he ran by James' legs and got outside. So I SCREAMED again, slammed the door, and chucked a bottle of vitamins across the room so hard it shattered, vitamins everywhere. I had woken up my other roommate, Pete. Later that evening when I apologized to him for my craziness, he told me he thought there'd been an earthquake, and that's why he jumped out of bed so fast. That was the day I went to the counselor. We did an "intake interview," and I felt so much better afterward. I'm really excited to go back Monday to talk with her. My California life is far too perfect to be sullied by a familiar depressive pattern, which is probably popping up because of stress.Mom called on the phone yesterday, and I told her about all this. She thinks I should quit the hip-hop class and only focus on what is calming and peaceful. But, I really don't want to give up. I think it will be therapeutic to learn to feel and remember my body's movements. And, it will be a great lesson in learning to love humility and revere those who can do so many things much better than I can. Congratulations about your book! That is super exciting. I can't believe I didn't think to suggest a Christian publisher. Your story is very much a lesson in conserving Christian ideologies about gender roles. And like I said before, I will be visiting Kansas this summer. Without a car, I don't know how you and I would visit Lawrence just the two of us. But, I definitely want to go to Rudy's. Hopefully Devin will be able to drive us out there. I miss Lawrence so much, I'd be down to get a hotel room and spend at least one night. When Bozhena sets the dates and I get my plane ticket, I'll let you know so we can make driving arrangements. I love you! Alicia P.S. Here is some more poetry in celebration of Spring: "when faces called flowers float out of the groundand breathing is wishing and wishing is having--but keeping is downward and doubting and never--it's april(yes,april;my darling)it's spring!yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can flyyes the little fish gambol as glad as can be(yes the mountains are dancing together) when every leaf opens without any soundand wishing is having and having is giving--but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense--alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!now the pretty birds hover so she and so henow the little fish quiver so you and so i(now the mountains are dancing,the mountains) when more than was lost has been found has been foundand having is giving and giving is living--but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing--it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the skyall the little fish climb through the mind of the sea(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing)" --e.e. cummings "O sweet spontaneousearth how often havethe doting fingers ofprurient philosophers pinchedand poked thee,has the naughty thumb of science proddedthy beauty .howoften have religions takenthee upon their scraggy kneessqueezing and buffeting thee that thou mightest conceivegods (buttrueto the incomparablecouch of death thyrhythmiclover thou answerest them only with spring)" --e.e. cummings "Spring is like a perhaps hand(which comes carefullyout of Nowhere)arranginga window,into which people look(whilepeople starearranging and changing placingcarefully there a strangething and a known thing here)and changing everything carefully spring is like a perhaps Hand in a window(carefully to and fro moving New and Old things,whilepeople stare carefullymoving a perhaps fraction of flower here placingan inch of air there)and without breaking anything." --e.e. cummings "now winging selves sing sweetly, while ghosts(thereand here)of snow cringe;dazed an earth shakes sleepout of her brightening mind:now everywherespace tastes of the amazement which is hope gone are those hugest hours of dark and coldwhen blood and flesh to inexistence bow(all that was doubtful's certain,timid's bold;old's youthful and reluctant's eager now) anywhere upward somethings yearn and stirpiercing a tangled wrack of wishless known:nothing is like this keen(who breathes us)airimmortal with the fragrance of begin winter is over--now(for me and you,darling!)life's star prances the blinding blue" --e.e. cummings "in time of daffodils(who knowthe goal of living is to grow)forgetting why,remember how in time of lilacs who proclaimthe aim or waking is to dream,remember so(forgetting seem) in time of roses(who amazeour now and here with paradise)forgetting if,remember yes in time of all sweet things beyondwhatever mind may comprehend,remember seek(forgetting find) and in a mystery to be(when time from time shall set us free)forgetting me,remember me" --e.e. cummings "Now i lay(with everywhere around)me(the great dim deep soundof rain;and of always and of nowhere)and what a gently welcoming darkestness-- now i lay me down(in a most steepmore than music)feeling that sunlight is(life and day are)only loaned:whereasnight is given(night and death and the rain are given;and given is how beautifully snow) now i lay me down to dream of(nothingi or any somebody or youcan begin to begin to imagine) something which nobody may keep.now i lay me down to dream of Spring" --e.e. cummings