Bowling for Columbine
September 11, 2003

Watch this movie. Right now. Whatever you are doing, if you haven't seen this film by Michael Moore, please go out and rent it immediately. (On the DVD, there is an additional section in which Moore talks about winning the Academy Award, as well.)

Last year (or was it two years ago?), I was flying home from a performance, sitting on a plane reading "Stupid White Men" by Michael Moore. There was a man in the seat next to me, and I could tell he was reading along over my shoulder. After awhile, I could feel that he was really getting angry. Finally, he asked me, "Why are you reading that book?" and I said to him softly and kindly, "Why are you so angry?" It was as if his anger was filling up the plane, it felt THAT threatening...or maybe it was because the armrest between us seemed incredibly small and of no use in protecting myself if he chose to punch me in the nose.

Thankfully, he started to laugh. He thought it was funny that I had figured out he was pissed off by the book. He told me he was insulted by the title; how dare some guy (..."and a white guy at that!" he exclaimed) write a book called "Stupid White Men". I asked him if he would be willing to buy a copy and read the book before he came to a conclusion. He replied he didn't need to read the book, he'd read enough sitting next to me. I told him that he was only getting a small portion of the big picture, and thus, he was reading out of context. Really, I said, I think you would enjoy what the book has to offer. It's a smart read.

He didn't want to hear it. The flight was over. I felt exhausted and drained, to some degree, in staying so calm and zen, and yet, I also felt very happy.
He exited as quickly as possible...The thing I remember the most is the smell of his brown leather jacket and the New Jersey accent...and the overwhelming
physical expansion of his rage. When I smell leather jackets now, I think
of that rage. I think of standing strong in a storm, even when I felt like shaking.

I feel thankful to Michael Moore, who may rub some folks the wrong way, because he is listening to a greater source and is convinced in pointing these abominations within our society out until we all are listening. He is right to point out human suffering. He is right to document what we, as human beings, will allow to occur within our human family.

My God. What will it take for us to make this world a beautiful, safe world?
Because, you know, the monster is here and the monster is us.

Speak out. Get involved. You matter. We all do. People across the seas matter.
There is a new song on BIG KID written by Brandon Jameyson...the chorus states simply that we are all pink on the inside.

We are all pink on the inside. Why can't we remember to look inside, where
our hearts extend blood and oxygen to our brains...

posted by Sara Hickman at 12:39 am
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TV Day
September 09, 2003

Last night I was in the studio for three hours working on three songs with my pal, Marty Lester, for a new nationally televised children's show. I found out yesterday about the need for a theme song, and I was determined to send in something creative, fun and silly. The producers are in L.A. I will let you know if I get the gig:
the show is called FIREHOUSE TALES, about a little fire engine named Pete and his pals Chief, Tip and Squirt. Oh, and Milky, the ice cream truck, who is Pete's best friend.

Today, I auditioned for an ABC show called SWITCH. The casting director called last night. If I got this gig, I would switch places with someone in the U.S. for four days...they would live my life, I would live theirs, for four days. So, they would have to write in my blog, perform on stage playing my guitar and singing my songs, take my kids to school and make their breakfast, lunch and dinner (!!), work in the recording studio, read my email and weed my garden... basically....be me! And I would end up in Alaska as a fisherman, or a dumptruck driver in NYC, or a brain surgeon or whatever...hmm! Could get wacky! I'll let you know about that, too.

posted by Sara Hickman at 10:40 pm
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Right to Write
September 07, 2003

When is it right to write? Does everyone have the right to write? Does writing have
to be right to be good?

Any time. Yes. No.

So many people ask me these questions:

Most frequently asked: "How do you write?"

Next up: "Do you write at night or in the morning?"

And the very popular: "Do you write by hand or on computer?"

My answer is always thus:

"I write when I feel like it, which is almost all the time. I write on everything:
paper, computer, once on my car dashboard, my legs and arms (Memento, anyone?), my shoes, my jeans, napkins, newspapers, journals, notebooks,
sidewalks, walls, stationary, kitchen counter and refridgerator...you name it.
If I need to write, I flow. And once I flow, or GET OUT OF MY OWN WAY, whoa!
The flow goes!"

I would have to say that journaling is the most vital thing a writer can give
to themselves. Write because you love the feeling of expression, not because you have to or someone is expecting you to. Write because it is your gift to be able
to do so. I started journaling when I was 7, and I've never stopped. I have boxes full of my old journals...one of my saddest regrets is that the year I went off to college, I threw away all my childhood journals...I thought (at the time) that they
were goofy. What I wouldn't give to have them all now!

Journal with friends. Journal with strangers. Journal online (like this blog)...journal about your new baby; journal with the man you're dating.
Write like your life depends on it because in a way...it does. Your life
depends on you growing and stretching and causing yourself to THINK.
Writing releases synapses that get your mind expanding.

And your love of writing will bleed over into other forms of expression...painting, horseback riding, dance, laughter, empathy...you name it.

SET YOURSELF FREE. Write. Write. Write. Write now.

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:32 am
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Okey Dokey --- Pencils Found!
September 06, 2003

Thanks to everyone who diligently maneuvered the world of pencils to assist me in my miniature pencil search!!! I ordered 5000 of the little dudes/dudettes, and they are on the way to the cd manufacturing plant as I write this log.

Sadly, there wasn't enough turnaround time to have "This Is My Pencil From Sara" imprinted on them, but they will still be a cute addition to the cover of the cd jewel box. I ordered cheery, sunshine yellow!

I am thankful for how AWESOME you are. Yes, YOU!

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:14 am
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Bumper Sticker Idea
September 01, 2003

Less is More...More or Less

and another one:

Love Never Ceases Being Love

posted by Sara Hickman at 06:00 pm
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I Need Teeny Tiny Pencils
August 28, 2003

I need 5000 teeny, tiny pencils to put in the jewel box of my new cd. I googled for miniature, tiny and novelty pencils, but I can not find any.

Not the kind you get on the golf course, but those tiny little pencils (1" or so)
that sometimes come with a fairy sized notepad (girls, you know what I'm talking about!)

Does anyone in the world not have a box of these in their garage they want to sell?
I think it would just be stellar to have a teency weency pencil in each cd of BIG KID, cuz this is the age kids are learning to WRITE and express themselves.

And I certainly want to encourage more expression in this world!

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:18 pm
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BIG KID is Done!!!
August 26, 2003

Well, after five long months and 27 creations, BIG KID is headed for the
final stretch. Tomorrow, I go into mastering, where the songs are placed in order, bass is pumped up, tiny sounds are erased (like an errant hiss), and everything is finalized to be at the same audio level. Suh-weet!

The last thing that was brought to life (last Sunday) was this:

A Jewish child and a Muslim child came to the studio and both said "Peace be unto you"...in Hebrew and Arabic. That will be the last thing children and parents hear at the end of the recording. It was a touching moment, both families so loving and excited for their children...they were families introduced through an organization here in Austin that brings families of differing faiths together...they help rebuild houses and work on a variety of community activities...to strengthen the love of humanity and build foundations of faith, even though their faiths are different.

Peace be unto you today!!!

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:36 am
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Answered Prayer…I Think
August 22, 2003

This is how it usually goes.

Someone puts some thought/idea/desire/hope forward. And then the universe reacts. Doors open. Time shifts. God delivers. The phone rings.

Yesterday, Lily says to me, "Let's get a snake."

I said, "Maybe for Christmas."

Then, she and I head off for a lunch with two fascinating women, Patti and Annie.
Lily has the baked potato, I have a salad. Patti and Annie are eating soy and spinach and cheesey things.

Over food, Lily mentions she wants a snake.

Patti says, "Oh, we have a snake. A little garter snake my husband found at his car wash. We've had it a year. Really sweet, but not very smart."

I ask Patti, "What do you feed your snake?"

She tells me frozen guppies. She tells me how you can only keep a wild snake one season, or it forgets how to shed, and then it doesn't grow very well.

We finish our lunch. Lily and I head across the street to Nau's, a pharmacy that still has a full service lunch with malts and grilled cheese sandwiches. But, we are there for a treat to take to io.

We head home. The day goes by.

As the kids head off to bed, I head off for a walk with my friend, Karen. We walk and talk and walk until the sweat has me swimming for water other than sweat.

We get back to Karen's, and I say goodnight, and start to jog on back to my abode. As I head down the final street, I see something wiggle next to the curb.
Can it be? It is. A snake. A pencil long garter snake. I catch it with my sippie cup (very empty and very dry.)

I head home, greet my hubby at the back door with: You'll never guess what I have in here.

I grab a pink plastic see through cage, fill it with leaves, and tell him to tump
the sippie. I hold the lid ready, he takes the top off the sippie, and out pours our new snake.

I looked her up on the internet today. She is a Plains Garter Snake. She has a very vibrant orange streak down her back. Lily has named her "Harmony".

So, yes, as our friend, Derek, said: Now we have an entire food chain!

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:19 pm
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NPR called today!
August 21, 2003

NPR called our office today. They are doing a story on children and how they are affected by commercials. It seems a little girl was interviewed, and she told the host that she loves the Daisy Sour Cream ad so much, she made her mother buy it for her! So, they wanted me to send them a copy of me singing the song, but I had to send them to Tequila Mockingbird, where we recorded it, to get a copy.

I don't know when they will air the piece, so if you listen to NPR, maybe you'll catch it.

posted by Sara Hickman at 10:07 pm
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Cowgirl Connie Reeves

I am honored to say I shared a panel at the MAPCon (Money & Power Conference for Women) with Ms. Connie Reeves this spring. She was a whippersnapper at 101. Warm, gracious, and extremely sharp as a tack...God bless you, Connie, and thank you for being such an amazing human being. From the Houston Chronicle:

Connie Reeves, who taught three generations of girls how to ride horses at Camp Waldemar in the Texas Hill Country and was an honoree of the National Cowgirl Hall of Fame, died Sunday from the effects of a fall from her horse. She was 101.

In her 67 years at Waldemar, Reeves taught more than 20,000 girls, including my neighbor, Amanda, how to ride. She told them her motto: Always saddle your own horse."

Her own horse, Dr. Pepper, is 28 years old. The horse had kicked and thrown her several times, and once Connie suffered fractures. Her affection for Dr. Pepper, however, never wavered. She liked a lively horse, she said.

Born in Eagle Pass, Texas, on Sept 26, 1901...1936 she took a job as a counselor for horseback riding at Waldemar, where she met her future husband, Jack Reeves, a rodeo star and keeper of the camp's horses. Jack died in 1985.

In 1995, she wrote an autobiography, I MARRIED A COWBOY.

So, when you're not sure where you are going in life, or how to get there, just remember: Always saddle your own horse!

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:35 am
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Movies I Like
August 20, 2003

JERRY MAGUIRE...this movie is perfect. I wasn't even a fan of Tom Cruise's until this movie. I love the message, I love the relationship between Tom and Renee, how can anyone not love the little boy, Cuba Gooding is a GENIUS, and the woman that plays his wife is an undeniable genius, too! And Aries Spears is also a genius. I have seen this movie twenty zillion times and I am not sick of it yet.
Thanks to Laurie Freelove for introducing it to me!!!

Whale Rider...you MUST see this movie. It is unbelievably beautiful.

Spirited Away. Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. And all hand drawn!

The Sound Of Music, Kiki's Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, Being John Malkovich, Reds (saw it four times---that's sixteen hours of the same film),
Elephant Man, Chocolat, Amelie, Wings of Migration (how did they do it? a very lush film). Best in Show, Tarzan (Disney's Animated Version...fun, beautiful, great soundtrack), Jurassic Park (in the theatre..that first time...whoa.), The Matrix, The Matrix Reloaded, Barefoot Gen (NOT an easy watch...but an amazing anime about the bombing of Hirsohima and Nagasaki)...Atomic Cafe...RED DAWN...The first and third Austin Powers (brilliant)...Almost everything with Katherine Hepburn...Fargo...Three Cabelleros (unbelievable animation...stunning). Yellow Submarine. And, c'mon...HARD DAY'S NIGHT...so good, funnnny. Such lovely cinematography...I love the black and white.

Has anyone ever seen "Robin & Marian" with Sean Connery and Audrey Hepburn. So sweet...

And, of course, who can not love "The Reluctant Dragon" or "Dragonheart". Sean Connery is exemplary as the dragon's voice, and the visual effects of the dragon were way ahead of their time.

I'm sure I'll be adding to this. Just thought it would be fun to start one!

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:52 pm
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The Last 23 Hours
August 18, 2003

Started when I noticed a bird yesterday, late afternoon. She was sitting in the middle of busy Sixth street. Cars were zooming down all around her, and I realized she had been struck by a car. Without hesitation, I told Lily I was going to stop the van, put on the hazards, and asked for her to stay in her car seat while I hopped out to save the pigeon. My van became a saving grace for me and this poor
injured friend.

She graciously allowed me to scoop her up between my hands. I held her softly, but firmly, and opened the back door, placing her into Lily's waiting arms. We've saved these birds before. They always look stunned, and immensely confused, but thankful that they aren't baking on blacktop with strange metal creatures blaring horns. They get sudden quiet, and two people singing calming songs...plus, the added bonus of air conditioning.

So, Bird came home and we placed her in our bathroom with fresh water and seed. A big yellow towel. She spent the night. She was missing some tail feathers, and had a red abrasion on her back. Her right wing seemed out of commission. But, as it always seems to go, this morning she had lighted in the bathroom window. She was ready.

One last time, she sat between my hands, and we wandered outside into the morning's light. I put her up onto the roof of my van (we have four cats who were eyeing me, as if they knew what was out of the bag....)...She flew immediately, proudly, to a tree about twenty yards away. Free at last, strong
at last.

Then, to continue last night. we had our ritual of: dinner, playing our new family game of Slamwich! (which is really fun when our three year old yells, STOP THIEF! and slams her hand onto the deck of cards)... pajama time... brush teeth...go potty...read books (all four of us across the giant bed, pillows just right. The bed is getting smaller...how does this happen? Can't they stay little forever???) ...each parent carrying a sleepy eyed, yawning "I'm not tired" child to her bed...kissing on the cheek...the layering of sheets and blankets and the
nightly turning away...them from us as they head into sleep, us as we head to the door...but always turning back..."Just checking," I say.

Next, it was off to softball. Our fourth game of the season. 9:15, all of us there; even the nighthawk is circling out on the field, waiting for me to watch in wonder.
It is a slow game. The other team, we're told, is not very good. I have my suspicions, however, because their teamshirts sure look fancy. No body pays for team shirts that nice unless they're serious! This means they get together and actually PRACTICE, in my book.

Yep, they are good. They are organized. They are kicking our patooties. Before we know it...8 - 2. But, for some reason, I feel the faith. I say a little prayer.
I know God is laughing. I say, Ok! I believe! We are going to win. I say to a few folks on the team: We are gonna win. Um. Uh-huh, they say. I start chanting that I believe! I believe! I'm hootin' and hollerin'! I do a dance around my miniscule pitcher's mound, which causes me to throw a ball. Not good. The catch says: No more little dances. She's right. But I am dancing inside! We are sucking, but we are going to win! I FEEL IT! There is no doubt.

Sure enough. We win. We win 11 to 10, with 2 outs, our batter up...he has 3 balls and 2 strikes. And he gets walked!!!!!

I would have been the next batter up. (I was just chompin' to hit, but there will be another time to hit.) I am smiling. I am elated! I walk with my fabulous team to thank the other awesome team for a good game. Cool. A night of glory
for all because how ASTOUNDING that we can bring metal and ball together, or walk to the base... or just have a nice, cold icy bottled water and laugh, laugh, laugh cuz it's Sunday night and we are playing the All American game together: women and men and nighthawks and umpires and folks in the stand!

AND IT IS ABSOLUTELY FREE. So, next time you want to go see a professional game...just remember, in every town...there are city teams playing...teams made up of your neighbors...and you can go out and cheer like the old days...for free!

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:31 pm
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Being A Spider/Being Human
August 17, 2003

Being human is fascinating. But, then, I could have been Tim, our garden spider.

If I was Tim...

I could have watched in fascination as a mom-being and her seven year old (who've captured a really hideously large, slimy cockroach from under a bedroom sofa), approach me at 10 o'clock at night, whispering and giggling from the patio's shadows; throwing from a plastic cup into my web a tasty, fat, wiggling treat.

I could have completely denied them the satisfaction of dancing full speed across my web to smother the poor creature in my silken threads; the turning and turning of the body under my long, wicked legs; the helpless waiting of the now immobilized and terrified roach as I retreat to the center of my web, a z-like zipper of lighting woven directly down the middle of my home to say, "Look at me! I'm DANGEROUS." These two legged beings bring me a COCKROACH?! I won't even move. I know that wiggle. It says, "Yuck. Nothing good to eat at the bottom of my web!" It's all crunch. Bring me a juicy fly or a tangy katydid. Then we'll talk ACTION, my funny human friends!

Back to me...

How simple. How elegant. How amazing to be that driven to just exist! Without whining or questioning or hoping or becoming angry over the how and why of being alive. No family feuds, or having to replace a blown tire, or wondering how you'll ever pass that exam you never studied for. No epiderals, no messy break ups, no ruined proms, or lost concert tickets.

But, then...a spider never gets to hold a hand. Or witness a wedding. Or feel the hope of a promise; the tears we shed over a moving musical passage or scene from a play...the excitment of creating a work of art, clinking glasses over a toast, the roar of a crowd when the homerun is delivered.

The spider has her glory. She must revel in her tasks and her conquests. Yet, her face is always the same. Dark and unmoving.

I'll take the tears of a little child with a banged up knee who can rejoice in the coming of a band-aid any day.

Tim and I agree on cockroaches, though. No one seems to want them in their nest.

posted by Sara Hickman at 06:59 am
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Baby Mice!
August 15, 2003

We have seven baby mice born about five hours ago! Come and see! Mom and Dad are doing well...nesting and looking pretty calm for having created such a big crew.
The babies have no hair (nor eyes!), but they can yawn and cry in tiny, squeaky voices. Yes, I've been jumping up and down with pride.

posted by Sara Hickman at 10:30 pm
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Lily Flower
August 13, 2003

I had an idea.

I've been working on mixing the new children's cd, BIG KID. But I realized I needed a song from children to their parents...a song idea was born...(it could also apply for partners in a relationship...)

The song is called "Look At Me". Here are the lyrics:

Put down the paper...hang up the phone
Please see me as more than a dog that you throw a bone
Let's go for a walk...yea, let's go outside
No, I don't want to hop in the car and go for a ride
I need a genuine encounter...of the first degree
I need you to stop what you're doing and look at me...
Look at me...

Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me... NOW!

You're awfully busy...You've got things to do
Just give me a moment of time...with you
I've got all these ideas...I want you to see
There's a person who's growing up...inside of me

I need your full attention...and I deserve it, too!
I'm somebody important...I'm a part of you...a part of you....

Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me... NOW!

Please don't be angry...I'm just a kid
I'm only doing the things that you once did...


I asked Lily (my six year old) if she would be willing to sing it on the new record. So, Sunday afternoon, she came in...and she sang the song.

Let me just say that in my thirty years of making music, I have many amazing memories. Moments that make me laugh, moments that make me cry. This was a moment where I was crying with a love so profound...listening to Lily's sweet, lilting voice exclaim these words was almost too much. To hear a child speaking out for children everywhere...through music...well, when you hear it, I hope you have the same chills of empathy that I experienced.

One of the other amazing aspects was that Lily practiced and practiced. She learned all the subtle nuances I had made on the tape for her...and during the recording, she got the entire song in about twenty or thirty minutes. At one point,
the part at the end seemed to overwhelm her...I was sitting next to her out in the
main room, both of us wearing headphones, and I asked Marty, our beloved engineer and friend, to turn off the mic so Lily and I could have a moment of privacy. I asked her what was troubling her...We talked about her throat. She said it was hurting...So, I said, "Let's stop, then. I don't want you to be in pain."
She shook her head, and through a few tears said, "But you won't have the end of the song." I told her I didn't care about the song, I cared about her, and I only wanted this to be something she enjoyed...She replied, "I can do this. Let me do it." I asked, "Are you sure? You don't have to..." She said, "No, I want to do it for the children...and the money!" Ha ha ha. So she nailed it first try...and we were done. (We drank lots and lots of water to hydrate ourselves...Marty is always good to see that we have fresh glasses of water next to us in the studio...)

While she and her pal, Clara, were drawing whales and dolphins and various sea creatures, Marty and I finished up the song. I put down accompanying harmonies and an organ part to flush out the guitar.

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:47 am
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Arnold Reagan
August 12, 2003

Ronald Schwarzenegger...Say, has anyone else noticed that "Arnold" can spell "Ronald"? It's an anagram (I think that's what they're called.)

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:45 pm
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A Lake of Love
August 10, 2003

Do you ever feel like your heart is so full of love you are just going to explode?

I felt that way last night. I loved the audience and every single person on stage
like I was a blubbering seal finding it's mama's teat for the first time! I just couldn't love everyone enough. And not that desperate co-addictive "I need you or I will throw myself off of a bridge" sort of love. Not the kind of love where you need applause. Not the kind of love where you need comfort or pie or the time to sleep an extra twelve hours or love you need to be medicated over...nope. Just good old fashioned, genuine what-a-wonderful-world "I'm here, you're here!" celebratory feel it all the way to your toes and out your ears kinda love.

There was a lake (gee! could it be bodies of water bring out extra love in me???).
There were picnic tables. There were children (or could it be the family atmosphere makes me slushy goo love mamasita?). Sadly, there were no dogs, but later in the evening there was one sexy black possum on a fence!

Jon, Steve (Z), Brad, Eddy and I were a bit tenative the first set. But, the second set...gosh! We kicked it! I was loose and going off on my raps and the band was totally there, supporting me, wrapping themselves around me, shaking ideas
from their heart and soul...and the audience was glowing and by then the boats floating up to the dock had their lights on like some sort of deep sea creatures
waiting to gobble us up! Fantastic!

Then, when I thought the gig was over, it WASN'T!!! I was informed I had one more hour to go! Alright! No problem! Brad and Z had to scoot, but Jon and Eddy graciously stayed and we played on! We did sing alongs! Starting with "Country Roads" and heading into Carole King, The Carpenters, The Partridge Family, all the way to the Stones and Paul Simon. A total seventies love in ending! Yea, baby!

And there was the moment at the end when a woman named Darcy approached me and told me a story. She reminded me of her favorite Sara Hickman moment
(I know, I'm talking about myself third person...wouldn't you?). She painted the picture of the night at the Cactus Cafe when I passed out candles to the audience and we all sang John Lennon's "War is Over" with just my guitar for a guide.
It was a stunning, quiet moment to feel all these people connected by the universal love of just wanting to feel safe...just wanting to believe that there is hope in this world. With the candles lit, and gently swaying, I remember getting choked up. I remembered the love.

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:03 am
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Seattle
August 08, 2003

I love having someone pick me up at the airport! Although it is nice knowing I can be self-sufficient, dragging around two guitars, a backpack AND a suitcase by myself (yes, my arm muscles are lovely!), the feeling of walking off of a plane and into the smiling face of someone eager to see you can't be underestimated.

Yesterday, after getting up and ready at 4:45 a.m., I arrived in Seattle around
10:30 a.m. and met Greg, my host for the day. We found my guitars at the
baggage claim, and I was grateful to him for carrying both guitars (even though my arms were still lovely!)

Then, wow! I got to ride out to Kirkland, the city outside of Seattle, in a red Mercedes convertable! How cool is that? The guitars looked like giant black
coffins sticking up out of the demure back seat...as we glided through the city and then came to an abrupt halt to sit in the afternoon sun of traffic. But who cares! I was in a fancy little car! Whee!

After yummy Greek food for lunch, I saw Greg's tikki God collection in his groovy
lounge room! He buys them on Ebay, so, naturally, I had to learn all about Ebay. That's how I spent the early part of my afternoon before I crashed to take a forty five minute nap.

The show was a delight...outside, by a huge body of water, in a park with families spread out across picnic blankets and lawn chairs. I really enjoy doing family shows. Especially when we get to the HOKEY POKEY. I turn into the queen and everyone has to shake their bottom and pour tea into imaginary tea cups. Very silly!

After much hugging, and goodbyes to lots of children and a man named Paul with a pug (whose little leg was healing from a break...and the pug's name was Bart!
Hilarious!), I was overjoyed to spend time on the way back to the airport with dear Shawna, her three month old baby, Cheyenne (cuuuuuuuute!) , and Shawna's sweet friend, Sarah. I had to catch the red eye back to Austin so I woudn't miss Lily's dance recital today, so we grabbed some food and hit the road. We talked about child birth, nursing, and men.
A perfect ending to a perfect day.

posted by Sara Hickman at 03:05 pm
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Pillowman
August 05, 2003

Charles Kuralt meets Spongebob with the gentle sway of Linus.
Not an ounce of cynicism. A spoonful of extra sweet that doesn't make you gag.
Takes you back to when you could ride your bike all day without fear of being too far from home. A lovely kite flying kind - of - day kind of guy. Squeezably soft.
Only love, no big lip. No hate. No, never. Never even came into his mind.

posted by Sara Hickman at 02:06 am
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Oh, to fly
August 04, 2003

There was a nighthawk flying over my head last night at the softball game.
I first noticed it as I got pummeled at homeplate, my glove flying off of my left hand, an "oomph!" bursting from me as I hit the ground. As I hopped back up to try and find the ball, my left side throbbing from the 6 foot runner's smackdown,
I saw what looked like a brown ghost glide silently and erratically overhead.

A nighthawk has a gaping mouth that is outlandishly wide, lined in bright yellow, whiskers poking out like a crazy uncle's eyebrows. Eyes like black moons, with
feathers soft and brown, accented in black markings. They eat and eat and eat
and swoop and eat and swoop. Being as I was catcher, I had to return my eyes to the mound, but I was sneaking peeks.

posted by Sara Hickman at 06:14 pm
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Overtime for my brain
July 28, 2003

i've been thinking a lot about anteaters, david sedaris, why 3-D glasses tire the eyes, how to find more quiet time with my husband, and why glass can be melted down into sand.

i've been thinking about child labor, diamond mines, liberia, the 2004 elections, how everyone thinks they deserve to be tipped (even in subway sandwich shoppes), how kids talk back to their elders; wondering about stephen wright and whether he writes everything down that comes into his mind, or if he just has a mind for funny business. last time i saw him, his coat was too tight. i was worried he wasn't eating healthy. i like him and i really would be sad if he left us too early.

i'm missing certain things. i'm missing a pair of shoes i bought on a visit to boston that i never wore...i kept them in a box for seven years and then gave them away one day. they were so pretty and soft.

i miss kissing someone for the first time. i miss the sound of a train breaking the morning air and fluttering the curtains on my childhood windows. i miss fishing and the simple pleasure of feeling a fish on your line... now i worry about the worm, i care about the fish and the feel of the hook in its lip.

i wonder about children in the dark. i worry when i hear a parent raise their voice too loudly, or raise their hand in anger. i worry about children being locked in closets and sold into slave labor. i worry about how some children have everything and others have nothing but misery and fear. i feel small and
inadequate that i can't scream STOP and the world will stop being mean and ugly and hateful. today my little girl asked me,

"why does god make homeless people?"

and i had to answer that god doesn't make homeless people, people do. that some of us have means to live comfortably, and those of us that can should share and provide for others. however, some people make poor choices, or through a series of unfortunate scenarios, bad things can happen to good people. and this is why family is important. we have to stick together. we have to be there through good times and bad. and for those people that don't have "family", then we are meant, as human beings, to be family to those in need.
a universal family. so, god made people to work things out together. sometimes god must shake god's head and wonder why we are such numbskulls...blind and dumb down here on the planet, messing things up. but god never gives up on us. just like we, as family, should not give up on one another.

but greed has become popular.
it's cool to be greedy. i see it in the ads on tv and in the movies. how to make compassion cool. how to make sending thank you notes vogue again. how to help others want to help others without a second thought.

how how how how how. my brain won't stop. how.

posted by Sara Hickman at 06:40 am
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Portrait of the Artist as a 40 Year Old Woman
July 17, 2003

The thought of being creative isn't really something an artist sits around and ponders. There isn't time.

What they do sit around and ponder is amazingly ludicrous. I remember in third grade staring at my hands, poring over my skin tone and texture, and wondering, "What keeps my skin from floating off my body?" Or asking my mother to draw a picture of a horse and hearing her respond, "Oh, I'm not very good at drawing. Go ask your father," and thinking to myself, "Why don't you just try?" It never occurred to me that other people were afraid to draw. I just assumed everyone did.

Wondering what a tongue feels like to another person when they kiss yours. Trying to make the color of the sky out of chalk on paper. Wishing I could have gills so I could feel water flow through my neck. Thinking about elevators and who invented them, or the peeling paint on the side of an old house or the rhythm of words pouring out of a singer's mouth. It is a constant dialogue in my head. Where did all these questions come from? When will I have time to hear all the answers? When will the voice in my head please shut up? And what do I do with all these thousands of bits of paper that have notes and drawings, sketches and ideas? When will I have time to make all this stuff I'm so excited to have thought up?

I remember seeing the movie "Amadeus", and thinking the composer Salieri represented my fate in life. I identified with how he felt; aching and pushing to be the best (because he generally loved creating music), but he could never truly release himself to be fully unaware, to be in that moment of pure passion where the music releases itself, effortlessly, from within. I knew his pain, in particular when someone else, who naturally has that ebb and flow, receives accolades we wish were our own. Still, I identified with Amadeus, too, in the way that he didn't have to think about making music, it just came through him, as if heavenly sent and assured. It was a relief to see these two sides of my brain, the contradictions of my heart, the push-me pull-you of the muse living on screen. I knew at that moment I wasn't alone in my nutty behaviour. I realized being an artist would be a life of fabulous torture.

Next time I'll talk about insomnia, but right now I'm too tired.

posted by Sara Hickman at 07:05 pm
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