So what was I doing when the earthquake hit?
Well I was dancing, baby!
Only I was holding still, but the earth was dancing for me.
When the earth dances, you get up and dance too, honey!
You have no choice but to dance when the earth is dancing.
Now I am an Earthquake Survivor.
Now I am a true Californian.
I will yawn next time we have an earthquake. Cause you know…. “whatever.”
Ok according to my research this earthquake that I just survived (please stop applauding, you’re embarrassing me) was between a 4.0 and a 4.9 on the Richter scale.
It was so crazy! I experienced “noticeable shaking of indoor items” and “rattling noises.”
It makes me want to fill my room with things that make noise when they rattle! I want a musical experience next time we have an earthquake.
According to Wikipedia, an earthquake of this magnitude has a “seismic energy yield” approximately equal to a small atomic bomb!
64 Interview answers you need to know.
Pretty interesting. Also useful for college students wondering how to write their essays.
Here are three pruning approaches to use.
1.Remove up to one third of the outer growth on all the stems and branches. This will shrink the overall canopy of the tree by one third. This approach will yield a smaller and fuller ficus tree. It is great for ficus trees that have outgrown their space.
2.Selectively prune back up to one third of the longest individual stems and branches into the center of the tree. This will open up the center portion to more light. The cut back stems will now produce new growth and fill in the sparse center area. When done regularly, this technique will maintain the existing size of the tree without making the pruning obvious.
3.Combine the first two.
Pruning ficus trees is as much art as it is science - like cutting hair. Try to visualize how your tree will look with certain branches cut back and also how it will look as the new growth comes in. I have successfully pruned back ficus trees enough that there was not a single leaf remaining. In time I had a beautiful tree with all new growth. Plunge in and have fun!
The differenced between being controversial for the sake of being controversial, and shifting perspective in a way that is fun to watch and enjoyable. Clowning is the second one.
I got these two clips from “Why, That’s Delightful!”
To You. - Meditations on Meaning
When I was five, I didn’t know much about you. Except that maybe you liked to hop and pretend that you were a kangaroo. And that it would be nice if you had a pouch. And even nicer if you had two pouches. Because then I could put my crayons in one pouch. And my notebook in the other one.
When I was eight, I met you for the first time. You had big brown eyes and erratic black hair. And I had no idea that you were so beautiful. Until you did an oral book report on The Headless Horseman. And danced around the classroom pretending that you didn’t have a head. After that, I blackmailed Mrs. Hanson so that I could sit next to you for the rest of the year.
But though I sat three feet from you, I couldn’t bear to ask you out. And didn’t for another three years. When I met you again during rehearsals for A Mid Summer Night’s Dream. I was Puck and you were a scampering fairy girl. And I loved to watch you scamper. Which is how I knew that you were the one. So I told you. And you said that you were dating Tank.
Who was the school drug dealer. And who punched me in the head the next day. And told me not to talk to you again. Which I didn’t do until I was thirteen. And you were the most beautiful girl in school. And didn’t mind being best friends with the kid everyone called Dinky. And one day you asked if you could kiss me. And of course I said yes.
Everything about that kiss was beautiful. Except that it was in an alley. And a maid watched us from a window the whole time. Which didn’t seem to bother you. Because you let me feel your breasts over your shirt. And you said that you wanted to go steady with me.
Which lasted two weeks. Until David told you that I said you were a bad kisser. Which was crazy. But you believed him and broke up with me. And started dating him the next week. Which hurt pretty badly at the time. But three years later the dull aching pain had mostly subsided. And I met you again on a park bench.
Where our friends had arranged for us to kiss. But I was nervous. And told you stories about my grandfather in the war. Until you leaned over and kissed me. And you broke our lip-grip to say, “I figured you’d never actually do it.” And I told you that I figured I wouldn’t either so I was glad that you did.
I gave you a thousand kisses that night. And you asked me to promise that we’d be together forever. Which I promised. And forever lasted seven and a half weeks. Until I met you again in an Internet chat room. Even though my father said that it wasn’t even you. Which I knew was crazy. Because nobody makes happy-face emoticons like you do.
We met in person four months later. And you thought it was strange that I kissed with my eyes open. And I thought it was strange that you were four inches taller than me. And we both thought it was strange that we were kissing someone we found in a chat room. And we didn’t talk to each other again after that. Which was fine because you soon turned into an erudite French political science major.
Then a fiery (yet still alluring) German linguist. Then an ethereal Brooklyn blond. Then a super-hot Philippine structural engineer. Until it got too confusing. Searching for you is fine. And finding you is fine too. But exploring you is so much better. And exploration requires that you don’t change physical forms so often.
Which you stopped doing when I was twenty and you reappeared as a Lebanese-American writer. Which was nice because I like Lebanese food. And I like to write too. And it was even nicer because you preferred white, cotton underwear. Which is rare today. And one of the reasons I wrote you a song entitled Bip Bop Banana Hey Girl I Got Something Cotton to Say.
In which I said that I loved you. Then you said that you loved me too. And we had a great big love fest for a few months. Until you told me: “The hyperboles in my head are different from the hyperboles in your head. Go read Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse and you’ll understand.” So I read Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse. And didn’t understand.
But I didn’t get too hung up. Because I soon forgot about you. After I met you again. And so on and so forth. For another five years…
Until today. When I noticed that I know so little about you. I don’t know where you are. Or who you are. Or even what you look like. All I really know is that it would be nice if you had a pouch. And even nicer if you had two pouches. Because then I could put my crayons in one pouch. And my notebook in the other one.
Ficus Benjamina enjoys indirect light, so don’t place it in a window where it gets more than an hour or two of sun each day.
Water only when the top 2-3 cm of soil is dry.
Fertilize lightly, using a soluble mixture. Well-rotted compost is a nice top dressing, but will not provide all the nutrients your houseplant requires. You should fertilize your plant every two weeks to a month or so in summer, but not in winter.
Prune only when necessary to keep the tree from flopping over. Alternatively, you can use nursery ties to stake the tree.
If you have a braided tree, you may decide to keep the braid or not. It is braided like a typical 3-strand braid. Either prune off side branches or incorporate them into one of the three main strands. You’ll only want to braid the new wood, which is flexible enough to bend into the braid. Do not force your tree limbs or they will break. To keep the new braids from becoming too loose, you can use nursery ties.
If your tree is in a smaller pot (under 30 cm), you’ll want to water when the top 2-3 cm of soil is dry. A larger pot should be allowed to dry out more.
Keep the room at a fairly steady temperature through the year, a little warmer during the day (ideally about 20° to 23°C) than at night (ideally about 16° to 18°C). Temperatures below about 10°C may kill the plant.
All F. benjamina loose their leaves from time to time. Leaf drop typically happens in the autumn, but houseplants can interpret autumn at different times. This will depend on your house’s temperature, etc. Just because all the leaves are gone does not mean your plant is dead. Keep up with your watering and fertilizing schedule, and you should see new leaf growth within a week or two.
If you need to replant, expect a total leaf drop. As F. benjamina does not like to be moved, the movement during a replant can send the tree into shock. It should recover with new leaf growth within two weeks.
DO NOT overwater. This is the #1 killer of most houseplants, including F. benjamina.
When buying a new plant, do not buy it on a very cold day - moving it from store to car, and car to home, may kill the plant if the temperature is below 10°C. Also never drive with it uncovered in an open pick-up, the wind speed created by the driving will dry out and kill the leaves.
If your F. benjamina is getting too much sunlight, the leaves will bleach to light green to yellow.
F. benjamina dislikes excessive movement. If it is necessary to move your tree, do so with gentle motions. You don’t want to just grab and shove the pot, of course.
Prune Ficus “trees and shrubs” as you would any woody plant, making your cuts just above a node, where a leaf is attached to the stem, or where another stem branches off. You can also prune just above a leaf scar, even though there’s no leaf there any more. New growth should arise from the scar area.
F. benjamina are prone to mealy bug and scale. Look for white clumps that look like cotton on the backs of the leaves and where branches meet–this is mealy bug. Scale are extremely small brown bugs that make the plant feel sticky and give the leaves a glossy shine. If you have either of these, you may spray your plant every three to five days with a mixture of twenty drops of dishwashing liquid (make sure it is not anti-bacterial) to a litre of water. Spray the whole plant, especially under the leaves for four to six weeks.
The “Kumulipo” is an old Hawaiian prayer chant that poetically describes the creation of the world. The word literally means “beginning-in-deep-darkness.” Here darkness doesn’t connote gloom and evil. Rather, it’s about the inscrutability of the embryonic state; the obscure chaos that reigns before germination. Talk about the last time you dwelt in kumulipo.
a. People are more willing to accommodate your longings if you’re not greedy or grasping.
b. A good way to achieve your desires is to cultivate the feeling that you’ve already achieved them.
c. Whatever you’re longing for has been changed by your pursuit of it. It’s not the same as it was when you felt the first pangs of desire. In order to make it yours, then, you will have to modify your ideas about it.
d. Be careful what you wish for because if your wish does materialize it will require you to change in ways you didn’t foresee.
Life has been created for you to enjoy, but you won’t enjoy it unless you pay for it with some good, hard work. This is one price that will never be marked down.
You can work at whatever you want to as long as you do it as well as you can and clean up afterwars and you’re at the table at mealtime and in bed at bedtime.
Respect what the others do. Respect Dad’s harp, Moms paints, Billy’s piano, Alex’s set of tools, Jimmy’s designs, and Minnie’s menagerie.
If anything makes you sore, come out with it. Maybe the rest of us are itching for a fight too.
If anything strikes you funny, out with that too. Let’s all the rest of us have a laugh.
If you have an impulse to do something you’re not sure is right, go ahead and do it. Take a chance. Chances are, if you don’t you’ll regret it - unless you break the rules about mealtime or bedtime, in wich case you’ll sure as hell regret it.
If it’s a question of whether to do what’s fun or what is supposed to be good for you, and nobody is hur by whichever you do, always do what’s fun.
If things get too much for you and you feel the whole world’s against you, go stand on your head. If you can think of anything crazier, do it.
Don’t worry about what otehr people think. The only person in the world important enough to conform to is yourself.
Anybody who mistreats a pet or breaks a pool cue is docked a month’s pay.
This is the middle, but I have just gone through ‘airport security’. Since I had a diplomatic passport, I got to do the same security as flight attendants, which is to say no security. I walked through a hallway with lots of rooms off to the side. There was a man playing his saxophone in one of the rooms, and there was a family looking through their own bags in there. It seemed to be honor system method of declaring your items. I tried to remember if I had any prohibited items, but I didn’t think so.
Finally I got to the end of the grey, carpeted hallway, where two women were casually chatting at the ticket counter. They smiled and joked with me a little, and then printed my ticket. I gave her my passport, and she got my ticket ready. I had just cut my hair from just below my ears to just above my ears in the haircut Anna was describing to me yesterday, so I don’t look anything like my photo (again). They tell me that I have to take this certain tollbridge when I am in Albany, to prove that’s where I am going. I am not really listening, because I ‘m not that in control of where I’m going, since I’m traveling with my brother and his rich friend and his rich friend’s family.
I agreed to go after Mom asked me if I’d like to. We had been running around this enormous mansion and talking, and discussing retirement options. She said she would like to buy a house somewhere and be able to go to it. It sounded like she wantd an enormous house, but I was pushing for a small house somewhere cool, and to use the money for plane tickets to visit it. The reason I agreed to go to this trip with my brother and his friend is because I am trying this habit of saying “yes” to everything, and they asked me. I have this idea that the house I’m going to is huge and so I won’t actually have to interact with anyone. I am planning on laying in bed, and reading “Da Vinci Code” all day.
Anyway, so I am in the airport terminal (except it’s actually a train station, because we’re taking the train), and I see the family I’m traveling with. They’re laughing and smiling and walking switfly towards the gate door. I am sort of slowly trying to catch up with them, but I figure they’ll wait for me since I am traveling with them, but we haven’t met up yet. They head into this restaurant, which is closed, and get handed a bottle of water from behind the register. I am about 20 steps behind him, pulling my rolley suitcase. The father is always at such an angle to me that I can’t see his face. I reflect somewhat annoyedly that they should perhaps be more concerned about my whereabouts, and they’re lucky I am so good at doing things and have met them here where I was supposed to.
There are lots of people in this station, now, who went through regular security. For some reason dance is on my mind a lot, and I think about a few of these people as dancers. Lots of red hair.
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