~Frank Lloyd Wright
Hello again!
I would apologize for being lax in posting lately, but it's my blog & I told myself I wasn't apologizing anymore for that kind of thing, so I'm not going to. ... yeah... so there.
Some things that have captured my attention lately! (aside from every shiny object that crosses my path--I swear I'm not ADD!)
It's a youtube video, and it's funny, and made me laugh really hard. You should see it! Thank you Kathrene! :) ( I think I did the link thingummy right... if not, I'll be editing this later...
Also, Backstage Badger is a wonderful, beautiful place--but be warned! If you are not a theatre tech, don't go there! If you are an actor, you may well be offended... I warned ya! And thanks for this one go to Mike. :)
'Kay, one more. Hyperbole and a Half is wonderful, and you should all go read it. No seriously, right now, go! Thank you Bea for giving me this fantastic happy. :)
Alright, I think I played around with the links on here enough. See what happens when I don't have rehearsals every night? The interwebs suck my life into their black void of ... time-suckingness... yeah, that sentence kinda got away from me a bit...
Hmmm... what else to write about?
I started writing a new play! Scene 1 is finished (the first draft of it is at least, many more drafts & revisions will have to happen before it's "finished", but I made it to the "lights out" part & I always feel so accomplished when that happens!) and the stage directions and first line of Scene 2 are on paper.
Stage directions are funny things. I'm generally against them in principal--directors throw them out (we were actually told in both my directing classes "toss out the stage directions, they don't actually pertain to you"), actors are told not to pay attention to them (why bother, the director's just going to tell you something different anyway), designers only use them as a spring-board for coming up with a ton of other stuff (to try to fit the director's "vision"), and stage managers just see them as wasted paper that could have been used to record the ACTUAL blocking and cues (because they never really correspond, directors toss it out right away).
Shakespeare being one of my playwright idols, I thought the "right" way to write a play was with minimal stage directions, ex.: "enter", "exit", "they fight, Rosse dies", "Exit chased by bear", etc. He never went on and on and on about the surroundings of the characters, or about the state of the dining room and how many glass figurines were in the cabinet and what they looked like & how significant they were to the mental health of the frail-looking girl who sat polishing them every day because she has self-esteem issues and never got over her high-school crush (alright fine, I confess, I'm not a Tennessee Williams fan. So hate me, it's MY blog and you're still reading aren't you? Who really wins here? :P).
So anyway, I've never been a fan of stage directions. But one of my mentors challenged me to try it out, to give my designers and directors something to play with (or throw away). Because, he said, if I don't give them anything to work with they'll get "bored" with my work.
Heaven forbid I should be the cause of anyone's boredom! That's been one of my not-so-secret fears (I'm writing about it on a blog, I can't really call it a "secret" anymore, now can I?) for as long as I can remember feeling fear: being the cause of some poor soul's boredom.
I took him up on his challenge, and this new play I'm writing has something for everyone. I described the stage (blank), the lights (a single beam illuminating the actor), the blocking (open on one person, sitting downstage right--or was it left? Does it really matter? Does my life have meaning? Why am I here?! Who are you?!!?!), the props (a shabby notebook), the costumes (tattered and grubby), and... oh wait, I forgot sound. Meh, who cares about sound anyway. They have all the pre-show music to worry about & will probably be glad for the break.
Then I did something truly terrible, something I would never in my life dream of doing unless I had no intentions of being involved in the production of this show except in the capacity of actor (let's be honest, actors ... well, go read backstage badger, you'll get the gist of my point).
I made it rain.
That's right. I wrote in my stage directions that it's raining. How? How would that possibly be feasible in a live theatre with a minimal budget?! How do I think that's going to happen should anyone choose to produce this show??
I dunno, and I don't really care right now. Because do you know what I discovered in the process of writing all these minute stage directions before I even touched the dialogue? I discovered who the stage directions are really for.
They're for the playwright. That's why no one else pays attention to them. The reality of the situation is that stage directions help get those ever-elusive and mocking rays of creativity to dance just within reach. They help "set the scene" (literally) so the dialogue can actually begin to flow. I kid you not, I started out with a vague picture in my head. The moment I had that picture set on the page, I knew so much about the plot, the characters, and what the dialogue was going to be like. It was crazy!! Granted, most of that will probably change by the second or third draft, but just the fact that so much of it came so quickly--it was ... it was beautiful! :)
So yeah, that's my little schpeel on stage directions. Later!
Protect the cubs! Eat an apple!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
"There are better things to do today. Dying can wait."
A brief respite from the storytelling today, I'm feeling philosophical... and the best part about this? It's my blog--I'll write about whatever I want, whenever I want! So there! :) Mwahahaha...
One of the more interesting side-effects (yes, I had to look up to see if it was an "effect" or "affect") of stage managing was the finding of another limitation--namely, the limits of my tendinitis (if that's misspelled I blame spellcheck). I developed the condition in my left elbow about a year & a half ago, and thanks to catching it soon, babying the joint, a new brace & an ibuprofen regime, the limb in question became pain-free and limber again within weeks.
However, as with all my limits, I had to find this one by running full-tilt into a brick wall before I accepted that it even existed. One of the duties I took upon myself as stage manager of Macbeth was mopping the stage every night after shows & rehearsals--there was a lot of sticky blood all over, so it wasn't something that could go undone. For the first two or three weeks I was fine; I wore my brace like a good girl, and nothing happened except the occasional twinge after I was done.
Then the second to last week hit, and my arm suddenly decided of its own volition that it had had enough and wasn't going to mop the whole stage anymore. I'd manage to make it through about half--if I was lucky--and the pain in my elbow would flair up and make it nigh unto impossible to continue.
It's a very humbling experience, being a stage manager incapable of mopping my own stage. I would like to say that I sailed through and was grace personified, inspiring all around me with my beatific acceptance of my condition--but would be lying. I think all who know me know that I haven't that much sweetness to me--nor that much meekness. Truth be told, I was angry. Not mildly irritated, but angry--you who've seen me angry know the difference, and I caught myself having days of irritation that usually mean I've not had enough alone time. But I'd been taking steps to ensure the introvert in me was taken care of--what's the problem? I asked myself several times, on one day particular when every little thing just ticked me off so much. I was raging inside, and taking a fierce delight in the feeling--just waiting for one justified reason to light into somebody.
Then I realized, I was so angry because I was having difficulty accepting that I can no longer do everything I could. I hate being told I can't do something, and my gut reaction is to go do it just to prove whoever said such a ridiculous thing wrong. But in this instance my own body was telling me, and preventing me from proving it wrong. As soon as I realized the cause of my anger it became easier to subdue and deal with--obviously, the first step in mastering emotions is to recognize their source. Yet, I still don't like it.
It's a difficult concept for me to wrap my brain around, frankly. At the age of 23--which may seem old to some, it did to me once--I'm trying to come to grips with the idea that a member of my body is broken, and will likely never be fixed. Tendinitis is a chronic condition, I will be dealing with it until the day my soul takes leave of this earthly tent I call my body. And it hurts.
Don't get me wrong, health issues are nothing new to me. I've lived with asthma and weird allergies for as long as my memory informs me. But as long as I avoided those certain triggers, I usually lived pain-free. But now? I live with pain everyday, brace or no. And I'm trying to realize that it's not going away, the best I can hope for is a slow deterioration.
Please understand, I'm writing this not to whine or complain, but because these thoughts have been trying to write themselves for days now. It's just how I process things--and I feel this should be shared. I'm not angry anymore--well, not most of the time. :) And I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I know plenty of others who deal with a far worse pain everyday with even less hope of relief. Mine is perfectly manageable. I'm young and strong, and pain meds still help!
I s'pose it's the philosophy minor coming out and expressing itself. My nature and education is such that I don't usually ask "why me?" but rather "what can I learn from this?" And I write because sharing the lessons usually solidifies them for me better. So, here's what I've learned thus far from my stupid elbow. :)
I need other people. I like being "a loner" and am an introvert. Left to my own wishes and devices I might go for days without seeing people--well, once upon a time I would have. I also enjoy being self-sufficient, being the problem-solver, the fixer, the person with all the answers. But when I couldn't even mop the very stage I was supposed to managing--as I said, it was very humbling, especially in a show I had no crew for. But my friends stepped up even without my asking. Peter (the director) would come up every night those last two weekends and take the mop away from me, my lead actor James mopped for me, another actor Alec came early and asked if he could mop--the number of people & the people themselves that came and took over doing what I couldn't do anymore ... they gave me warm fuzzies every time I stopped being angry at myself and looked at what was being done. I couldn't have done the job alone, but the people I needed were there.
Asking for help--it's not something I enjoy doing, but I got a bit more practice once I realized I was causing more damage by trying to push through the pain. I'm not saying I enjoyed it, but I did get more practice.
Something I knew already, but I fear to few Christ-followers acknowledge: there is grace to be found outside the Church. I think Christians like the notion that we have a monopoly on grace, as if we're the only ones who know what it looks like & how to give it. But, honestly, I was shown huge amounts of grace from these brothers and sisters of mine in the theatre that don't acknowledge the existence of God, or think of Him in a different fashion than I do. As I said, I wasn't exactly saintly in my wrestling with the facts of my inabilities, but the compassion shown me in the midst of that was beautiful. It's something to think about, surely.
Anyhoo, that's where my heart's been lately. Thanks for reading! <3
One of the more interesting side-effects (yes, I had to look up to see if it was an "effect" or "affect") of stage managing was the finding of another limitation--namely, the limits of my tendinitis (if that's misspelled I blame spellcheck). I developed the condition in my left elbow about a year & a half ago, and thanks to catching it soon, babying the joint, a new brace & an ibuprofen regime, the limb in question became pain-free and limber again within weeks.
However, as with all my limits, I had to find this one by running full-tilt into a brick wall before I accepted that it even existed. One of the duties I took upon myself as stage manager of Macbeth was mopping the stage every night after shows & rehearsals--there was a lot of sticky blood all over, so it wasn't something that could go undone. For the first two or three weeks I was fine; I wore my brace like a good girl, and nothing happened except the occasional twinge after I was done.
Then the second to last week hit, and my arm suddenly decided of its own volition that it had had enough and wasn't going to mop the whole stage anymore. I'd manage to make it through about half--if I was lucky--and the pain in my elbow would flair up and make it nigh unto impossible to continue.
It's a very humbling experience, being a stage manager incapable of mopping my own stage. I would like to say that I sailed through and was grace personified, inspiring all around me with my beatific acceptance of my condition--but would be lying. I think all who know me know that I haven't that much sweetness to me--nor that much meekness. Truth be told, I was angry. Not mildly irritated, but angry--you who've seen me angry know the difference, and I caught myself having days of irritation that usually mean I've not had enough alone time. But I'd been taking steps to ensure the introvert in me was taken care of--what's the problem? I asked myself several times, on one day particular when every little thing just ticked me off so much. I was raging inside, and taking a fierce delight in the feeling--just waiting for one justified reason to light into somebody.
Then I realized, I was so angry because I was having difficulty accepting that I can no longer do everything I could. I hate being told I can't do something, and my gut reaction is to go do it just to prove whoever said such a ridiculous thing wrong. But in this instance my own body was telling me, and preventing me from proving it wrong. As soon as I realized the cause of my anger it became easier to subdue and deal with--obviously, the first step in mastering emotions is to recognize their source. Yet, I still don't like it.
It's a difficult concept for me to wrap my brain around, frankly. At the age of 23--which may seem old to some, it did to me once--I'm trying to come to grips with the idea that a member of my body is broken, and will likely never be fixed. Tendinitis is a chronic condition, I will be dealing with it until the day my soul takes leave of this earthly tent I call my body. And it hurts.
Don't get me wrong, health issues are nothing new to me. I've lived with asthma and weird allergies for as long as my memory informs me. But as long as I avoided those certain triggers, I usually lived pain-free. But now? I live with pain everyday, brace or no. And I'm trying to realize that it's not going away, the best I can hope for is a slow deterioration.
Please understand, I'm writing this not to whine or complain, but because these thoughts have been trying to write themselves for days now. It's just how I process things--and I feel this should be shared. I'm not angry anymore--well, not most of the time. :) And I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I know plenty of others who deal with a far worse pain everyday with even less hope of relief. Mine is perfectly manageable. I'm young and strong, and pain meds still help!
I s'pose it's the philosophy minor coming out and expressing itself. My nature and education is such that I don't usually ask "why me?" but rather "what can I learn from this?" And I write because sharing the lessons usually solidifies them for me better. So, here's what I've learned thus far from my stupid elbow. :)
I need other people. I like being "a loner" and am an introvert. Left to my own wishes and devices I might go for days without seeing people--well, once upon a time I would have. I also enjoy being self-sufficient, being the problem-solver, the fixer, the person with all the answers. But when I couldn't even mop the very stage I was supposed to managing--as I said, it was very humbling, especially in a show I had no crew for. But my friends stepped up even without my asking. Peter (the director) would come up every night those last two weekends and take the mop away from me, my lead actor James mopped for me, another actor Alec came early and asked if he could mop--the number of people & the people themselves that came and took over doing what I couldn't do anymore ... they gave me warm fuzzies every time I stopped being angry at myself and looked at what was being done. I couldn't have done the job alone, but the people I needed were there.
Asking for help--it's not something I enjoy doing, but I got a bit more practice once I realized I was causing more damage by trying to push through the pain. I'm not saying I enjoyed it, but I did get more practice.
Something I knew already, but I fear to few Christ-followers acknowledge: there is grace to be found outside the Church. I think Christians like the notion that we have a monopoly on grace, as if we're the only ones who know what it looks like & how to give it. But, honestly, I was shown huge amounts of grace from these brothers and sisters of mine in the theatre that don't acknowledge the existence of God, or think of Him in a different fashion than I do. As I said, I wasn't exactly saintly in my wrestling with the facts of my inabilities, but the compassion shown me in the midst of that was beautiful. It's something to think about, surely.
Anyhoo, that's where my heart's been lately. Thanks for reading! <3
Friday, September 2, 2011
Running: Light Techs do it when something explodes or catches fire
Thank you facebook flair... :)
So let's see, picking up whence I left off earlier today... where was I? Ah yes! Stage Managing!
It was certainly an experience and a half. I'd only stage managed once before, and that for an already well-established system, with two amazing assistants, and a director who wrote the book on stage managing (and was therefore very on top of everything!). However, I also had a part-time job, 16.5 credit hours of class, a play I was writing & prepping to direct the next semester, and two or three other shows I had some measure of involvement in going on at the same time. Macbeth was so amazing in that I had more to do, it was the premier show of Theatre Coup d'Etat, and I only had a very flexible day job vying for my attentions.
Looking back on the experience is rather... fascinating would be a good word I s'pose. I went into the production feeling so sorry for Peter. I knew him to be a fantastic director, and felt he deserved a stage manager who knew & enjoyed what they were doing. Now, well...
It's amazing, really, the huge gift you give someone, just by having faith in them when they have none in themselves. Now I know, not only can I stage manage, but I can do a pretty amazing job of it. It's still probably never going to be my first choice of jobs, but I can do it & do it well. Thank you, Stacy & Derrick, for being there for me the first time, and giving me the foundation that allowed me to soar this time.
Yet I must confess, I am extremely glad I no longer have to be the tactful & diplomatic rock of patience. :P And that being said, is all I shall say of that.
I think designing lights was my saving grace during the show. Well, not the sole one, but it helped a lot. Something about having that creative outlet and having a capacity to function in as an artist as well as a manager--it made my soul sing and transported me from struggling to thriving. My passion had an out and didn't just boil within.
Hahaha... sorry, I can't help it. My brain keep wandering, and when I write semi-seriously on any of this I suddenly realize how... well, let's just say I suddenly stop taking myself so seriously, and start laughing at such a ridiculous occurrence.
Funny stories about stage managing: I can only share a select few, because some of you reading are not stage managers. For the uncut version, feel free to contact me. If you're a stage manager I'll share gladly! If you're not, I'll probably just laugh at you. Sorry. :)
To give a general idea of what I was working with: there were 16 in the cast, including one 7 year old boy named Arie who played the son of Macduff, our director's name was Peter, our "producer" co-founded Theatre Coup d'Etat with Peter and was our lead actor, James. The space was in downtown St. Paul (which has a very different flavour than Minneapolis), and has a house of about 90. The lighting instruments were 28 in number (29 if you count the one under the seats, which you should actually, because it was awesome), and run by a decently advanced board.
One of my more interesting responsibilities included opening the trapdoor in the light booth. There were two occasions when actors entered from the back of the house, in which case they took a circuitous route and came up the trapdoor that was situated in the light booth, that they might enter from thence into the house. This was all well & fine after the sole time when the actors tried coming up through the trapdoor on their own. It wouldn't have been so terrifying, but for the fact that I was sitting on it, trying to run the lights at the moment... :)
Anyhoo, fun Stage Manager stories will have to wait, as shall tales of Light Designing, Animals class, Gigs to come, and the rest of life. The night is coming on apace and my bed calls to me.
G'night all. See ya tomorrow!
So let's see, picking up whence I left off earlier today... where was I? Ah yes! Stage Managing!
It was certainly an experience and a half. I'd only stage managed once before, and that for an already well-established system, with two amazing assistants, and a director who wrote the book on stage managing (and was therefore very on top of everything!). However, I also had a part-time job, 16.5 credit hours of class, a play I was writing & prepping to direct the next semester, and two or three other shows I had some measure of involvement in going on at the same time. Macbeth was so amazing in that I had more to do, it was the premier show of Theatre Coup d'Etat, and I only had a very flexible day job vying for my attentions.
Looking back on the experience is rather... fascinating would be a good word I s'pose. I went into the production feeling so sorry for Peter. I knew him to be a fantastic director, and felt he deserved a stage manager who knew & enjoyed what they were doing. Now, well...
It's amazing, really, the huge gift you give someone, just by having faith in them when they have none in themselves. Now I know, not only can I stage manage, but I can do a pretty amazing job of it. It's still probably never going to be my first choice of jobs, but I can do it & do it well. Thank you, Stacy & Derrick, for being there for me the first time, and giving me the foundation that allowed me to soar this time.
Yet I must confess, I am extremely glad I no longer have to be the tactful & diplomatic rock of patience. :P And that being said, is all I shall say of that.
I think designing lights was my saving grace during the show. Well, not the sole one, but it helped a lot. Something about having that creative outlet and having a capacity to function in as an artist as well as a manager--it made my soul sing and transported me from struggling to thriving. My passion had an out and didn't just boil within.
Hahaha... sorry, I can't help it. My brain keep wandering, and when I write semi-seriously on any of this I suddenly realize how... well, let's just say I suddenly stop taking myself so seriously, and start laughing at such a ridiculous occurrence.
Funny stories about stage managing: I can only share a select few, because some of you reading are not stage managers. For the uncut version, feel free to contact me. If you're a stage manager I'll share gladly! If you're not, I'll probably just laugh at you. Sorry. :)
To give a general idea of what I was working with: there were 16 in the cast, including one 7 year old boy named Arie who played the son of Macduff, our director's name was Peter, our "producer" co-founded Theatre Coup d'Etat with Peter and was our lead actor, James. The space was in downtown St. Paul (which has a very different flavour than Minneapolis), and has a house of about 90. The lighting instruments were 28 in number (29 if you count the one under the seats, which you should actually, because it was awesome), and run by a decently advanced board.
One of my more interesting responsibilities included opening the trapdoor in the light booth. There were two occasions when actors entered from the back of the house, in which case they took a circuitous route and came up the trapdoor that was situated in the light booth, that they might enter from thence into the house. This was all well & fine after the sole time when the actors tried coming up through the trapdoor on their own. It wouldn't have been so terrifying, but for the fact that I was sitting on it, trying to run the lights at the moment... :)
Anyhoo, fun Stage Manager stories will have to wait, as shall tales of Light Designing, Animals class, Gigs to come, and the rest of life. The night is coming on apace and my bed calls to me.
G'night all. See ya tomorrow!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
"No Broken Bones. Slight Loss of Dignity. No Change There Then."
--Doctor Who, who'd you think it would be? :)
Look! I'm Back! I haven't fallen off the edge of the planet or lost my password to this blog or anything else... though it felt like that at times, to be sure... :) So much has happened since last time I posted, I'm not sure I can fit it all into one post--but we'll give it a go. Besides, if I can't, that just means I have more material for more posts, yeah? :)
Let's see, the last post was June 15th, & I was waiting to hear back about the cast-list for Macbeth... well that actually turned out to be a funny story, let me tell you about it... duh I'm going to tell you about it. That would be kind of mean, wouldn't it. "This is a blog where I ramble about life. This thing happened to me and it was hysterical, but I'm not telling that story, let me recount this hugely boring waste of time to you instead."... sounds like something I would do, actually. But don't worry! I won't this time, promise! :)
I didn't make it into Macbeth, but I have to say, the phone call from Peter (the director) was probably the kindest rejection I've ever had--and I've had a few. I did, however, go to the acting classes that Peter & James invited me to--they lasted for 6 weeks and met every Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for the duration of those weeks. More on those later.
I'll freely admit, I managed to hold it together pretty well while I was on the phone getting the news, but as soon as I hung up ("hung up" the phone, it sounds like so much more than the tap of the screen that was actually involved) I retreated to my room and had a quiet little cry. But I still felt drawn to the show--it was a gut feeling that I've only felt a few times in life, and I've learned it usually means God is trying to tell me something so I should shut up and listen. Thankfully, this time I did. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Well, I guess that one just wasn't Your will for me. I'll just hafta go audition some more for other shows. I really wanted to be involved with that company though--and Shakespeare! I would love to do that show.
God: Yeah, I want you in that show too. So get to it already.
Me: But they didn't cast me. *sneaking suspicion that something nasty is around the corner*
God: So?
Me: SO how am I s'posed to be involved in the show when they don't want me? *Suspicion grows*
God: They don't want you to ACT. You've been involved in plenty of shows that you didn't act in.
Me: But, but, but... I don't want to!!! I don't LIKE stage managing, and that's the only other thing they need for this show! Boy do they ever need it, too... I mean, no! I don't want to!
God: If you can get involved in some other way, go for it. But I want you in that production.
Me: Can't I just go audition for other people? I came up here to ACT for cryin' out sideways!
God: You can, but I want you here.
Me: *grumble grumble* FINE! I'll go to class on Saturday and take my tech resume with me. They've probably already found an SM anyway and won't need me for that either. If You want me in that production, You'll have to take it from there!
God: Oh don't worry, I will. *smirk*
And He did. Saturday after class I asked Peter if he'd found a stage manager yet as I pulled out my resume, and I don't think I even had the sentence completely out of my mouth before he pounced. "You want to be my stage manager?!" And there it was.
Turns out the company didn't have a light designer for the show either, so guess what else I did for the show? :)
Just so you can fully appreciate the irony of this situation: I took classes in as much theatre stuff as I could possibly cram into my schedule over the 4 years I went to college. Lighting Design and Stage Management were two that I did NOT take--the former I remedied by shadowing our light designer, and the latter I neglected to take on purpose because I wanted nothing to do with it. When I spoke with a mentor about portfolio building, we discussed the jobs I would qualify for upon entering the "real world" of theatre. "You probably won't get hired for Stage Managing or Lighting Design, just because that's not where your expertise is" he told me.
Yeah... 'bout that... Are you laughing yet? Jesus still is, I'm pretty sure. :P
Alrighty, I'm taking a break here, but I'll be back later tonight, no worries. Tata!
Look! I'm Back! I haven't fallen off the edge of the planet or lost my password to this blog or anything else... though it felt like that at times, to be sure... :) So much has happened since last time I posted, I'm not sure I can fit it all into one post--but we'll give it a go. Besides, if I can't, that just means I have more material for more posts, yeah? :)
Let's see, the last post was June 15th, & I was waiting to hear back about the cast-list for Macbeth... well that actually turned out to be a funny story, let me tell you about it... duh I'm going to tell you about it. That would be kind of mean, wouldn't it. "This is a blog where I ramble about life. This thing happened to me and it was hysterical, but I'm not telling that story, let me recount this hugely boring waste of time to you instead."... sounds like something I would do, actually. But don't worry! I won't this time, promise! :)
I didn't make it into Macbeth, but I have to say, the phone call from Peter (the director) was probably the kindest rejection I've ever had--and I've had a few. I did, however, go to the acting classes that Peter & James invited me to--they lasted for 6 weeks and met every Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for the duration of those weeks. More on those later.
I'll freely admit, I managed to hold it together pretty well while I was on the phone getting the news, but as soon as I hung up ("hung up" the phone, it sounds like so much more than the tap of the screen that was actually involved) I retreated to my room and had a quiet little cry. But I still felt drawn to the show--it was a gut feeling that I've only felt a few times in life, and I've learned it usually means God is trying to tell me something so I should shut up and listen. Thankfully, this time I did. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Well, I guess that one just wasn't Your will for me. I'll just hafta go audition some more for other shows. I really wanted to be involved with that company though--and Shakespeare! I would love to do that show.
God: Yeah, I want you in that show too. So get to it already.
Me: But they didn't cast me. *sneaking suspicion that something nasty is around the corner*
God: So?
Me: SO how am I s'posed to be involved in the show when they don't want me? *Suspicion grows*
God: They don't want you to ACT. You've been involved in plenty of shows that you didn't act in.
Me: But, but, but... I don't want to!!! I don't LIKE stage managing, and that's the only other thing they need for this show! Boy do they ever need it, too... I mean, no! I don't want to!
God: If you can get involved in some other way, go for it. But I want you in that production.
Me: Can't I just go audition for other people? I came up here to ACT for cryin' out sideways!
God: You can, but I want you here.
Me: *grumble grumble* FINE! I'll go to class on Saturday and take my tech resume with me. They've probably already found an SM anyway and won't need me for that either. If You want me in that production, You'll have to take it from there!
God: Oh don't worry, I will. *smirk*
And He did. Saturday after class I asked Peter if he'd found a stage manager yet as I pulled out my resume, and I don't think I even had the sentence completely out of my mouth before he pounced. "You want to be my stage manager?!" And there it was.
Turns out the company didn't have a light designer for the show either, so guess what else I did for the show? :)
Just so you can fully appreciate the irony of this situation: I took classes in as much theatre stuff as I could possibly cram into my schedule over the 4 years I went to college. Lighting Design and Stage Management were two that I did NOT take--the former I remedied by shadowing our light designer, and the latter I neglected to take on purpose because I wanted nothing to do with it. When I spoke with a mentor about portfolio building, we discussed the jobs I would qualify for upon entering the "real world" of theatre. "You probably won't get hired for Stage Managing or Lighting Design, just because that's not where your expertise is" he told me.
Yeah... 'bout that... Are you laughing yet? Jesus still is, I'm pretty sure. :P
Alrighty, I'm taking a break here, but I'll be back later tonight, no worries. Tata!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
To Get What You've Never Had, You Must Do What You've Never Done
GAH!!!
I hate waiting for emails... especially ones that mean I may or may not be in a show and maybe have some semblance of a foggy plan for some small number of months...
Okay, I'll be honest: I couldn't really care less about having a plan, I just really really want to be this show...
Fiddlesticks.
Every time I've received an email today I've (apparently) made a very disappointed noise, because Aunt Tammy told me that I had to quit making those noises every time I get an email. My phone keeps getting me very excited, it makes a delightfully happy sound whenever an email comes in, but I've got it linked to two accounts: business & personal. So far I've gotten loads of emails from two different churches, but
NONE ABOUT THAT SHOW!
I feel a little strongly about this... as you might have guessed...
Kay, i'm gonna go pace the floors a little more...
Make sure to feed your shadows!
I hate waiting for emails... especially ones that mean I may or may not be in a show and maybe have some semblance of a foggy plan for some small number of months...
Okay, I'll be honest: I couldn't really care less about having a plan, I just really really want to be this show...
Fiddlesticks.
Every time I've received an email today I've (apparently) made a very disappointed noise, because Aunt Tammy told me that I had to quit making those noises every time I get an email. My phone keeps getting me very excited, it makes a delightfully happy sound whenever an email comes in, but I've got it linked to two accounts: business & personal. So far I've gotten loads of emails from two different churches, but
NONE ABOUT THAT SHOW!
I feel a little strongly about this... as you might have guessed...
Kay, i'm gonna go pace the floors a little more...
Make sure to feed your shadows!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here and drink what comes out"?
AAAh! So much has happened! How do I write about it all?!?
Yeah, fine, I hear you smart-alecks. "One word at a time!" Or maybe "what, you're actually writing about it now? That's new..."
:P
Let's see, I'll start with a quick run-down... in the time since I wrote last:
I packed all my earthly possessions into move-ready containers (again).
I hit a deer with my car, simultaneously having my first real accident, earning my parents' trust in my fantastic driving instincts, and wrecking my car, leaving both myself & my mum carless.
I moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota to live with my Aunt Tammy & take care of her two girls while trying to break onto the theatre scene in that city.
I've been to audition for three shows, "Woyzceck", "Trojan Women", & "Macbeth".
I started going to an acting class working on getting in touch with my instincts by selecting an animal and acting it for a few weeks.
I got called back for "Macbeth" (that was last night).
I locked myself out of Tammy's house, and Cassy (my cousin) & I went on a 2 hour roadtrip to the campsite Tammy & the girls were spending the weekend at in order to retrieve the house-key.
The girls and I went on a picnic, I taught them how to play 21/woodchips, and we covered the driveway in chalk dragons.
I think that's all for now. The cast list for Macbeth will be posted on Wednesday!
Eat your artichokes!
Yeah, fine, I hear you smart-alecks. "One word at a time!" Or maybe "what, you're actually writing about it now? That's new..."
:P
Let's see, I'll start with a quick run-down... in the time since I wrote last:
I packed all my earthly possessions into move-ready containers (again).
I hit a deer with my car, simultaneously having my first real accident, earning my parents' trust in my fantastic driving instincts, and wrecking my car, leaving both myself & my mum carless.
I moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota to live with my Aunt Tammy & take care of her two girls while trying to break onto the theatre scene in that city.
I've been to audition for three shows, "Woyzceck", "Trojan Women", & "Macbeth".
I started going to an acting class working on getting in touch with my instincts by selecting an animal and acting it for a few weeks.
I got called back for "Macbeth" (that was last night).
I locked myself out of Tammy's house, and Cassy (my cousin) & I went on a 2 hour roadtrip to the campsite Tammy & the girls were spending the weekend at in order to retrieve the house-key.
The girls and I went on a picnic, I taught them how to play 21/woodchips, and we covered the driveway in chalk dragons.
I think that's all for now. The cast list for Macbeth will be posted on Wednesday!
Eat your artichokes!
Friday, May 6, 2011
"Stop Talking Brain Thinking Hush!"
~The Doctor
Most of my favorite quotes seem to come from the Doctor, come to think of it...
Writer's block is a terrible evil little troll who lives under every key on my computer and waits to leap out and bite off my fingers. But I have a solution! I read that to combat this dread creature I must dye a character's hair hot pink and sit back to see what happens...
...Pity that doesn't seem likely to help with a blog. :P What do I do now?
I should come up with a solution to blogger's block. Teeheehee, I think I have it! Toss in a Platypus and write about the day with one! hmmm... this could work... I think I'll give it a go!
So this morning I fully intended to wake at a reasonable hour and go to the gym, and be constructive all day long. Unfortunately, my platypus was simply far too cuddly and insisted that I stay in bed to keep it warm, as the blankets alone would never do. Being the naturally obliging person that I am (I almost managed to type that with a straight face, could you read it as such?), I obliged! Until a far later hour than I had hoped.
You see, I have a dreadful malady known as morning-spine-of-a-jellyfish. Does anyone know if there's a pill I can take for that? If you do, please let me know!
But I digress (I like that word, "digress", it makes me smile!), back to the platypi!
I finally managed to pry myself away from the cuddly platypus long enough to get ready for the day, then commenced to scrubbing down the bathroom. This is normally a fairly straight-forward job, but today was a bit more hazardous than usual. Today the shower needed a dousing, which meant using some special--and very heady--chemicals! Now I'm not normally one for using controlled substances, but this shower-scrubby-bubbles-stuff was ... whoo! I had to keep running out into the living room just make sure I still knew how many noses I had--which meant cleaning took a smidge longer than usual--but that's okay, the bathroom is nice & shiny now. :) Though the poor dog was rather confused, she couldn't quite make out why I kept running back & forth from the porch to the bathroom. Such irregular behaviour usually means a bath for her, so she was a bit edgy all morning. :)
Progressing, my youngest nephew came over and we spent some time waiting for his Grandma to get off the phone. We passed the time just like anyone else would: pretending we were superheroes, and showing off our moves! For some reason though, the kid couldn't decide on which hero he wanted to be. One moment he was sucking all my powers from me (I never did get out of him what those were exactly), then he was trapping me in a web while stoutly defending his title of Batman, next thing I know I'm being shadow-flamed by a dragon named Cynder! It was all very confusing. Then he calmed down and decided he was a kitty & I needed to buy him & bring him home... nevermind that I'm allergic to kitties & just want a nice goldfish, I must buy him & he's a kitty!
Then Mum called a halt to our antics by announcing her intent to vacuum & kicking me out for the afternoon. Aaaand here we are! :)
Well that was fun. :)
Alas though, my hour is almost up & I must needs run back home soon.
Cuddle your platypi everyday!
Most of my favorite quotes seem to come from the Doctor, come to think of it...
Writer's block is a terrible evil little troll who lives under every key on my computer and waits to leap out and bite off my fingers. But I have a solution! I read that to combat this dread creature I must dye a character's hair hot pink and sit back to see what happens...
...Pity that doesn't seem likely to help with a blog. :P What do I do now?
I should come up with a solution to blogger's block. Teeheehee, I think I have it! Toss in a Platypus and write about the day with one! hmmm... this could work... I think I'll give it a go!
So this morning I fully intended to wake at a reasonable hour and go to the gym, and be constructive all day long. Unfortunately, my platypus was simply far too cuddly and insisted that I stay in bed to keep it warm, as the blankets alone would never do. Being the naturally obliging person that I am (I almost managed to type that with a straight face, could you read it as such?), I obliged! Until a far later hour than I had hoped.
You see, I have a dreadful malady known as morning-spine-of-a-jellyfish. Does anyone know if there's a pill I can take for that? If you do, please let me know!
But I digress (I like that word, "digress", it makes me smile!), back to the platypi!
I finally managed to pry myself away from the cuddly platypus long enough to get ready for the day, then commenced to scrubbing down the bathroom. This is normally a fairly straight-forward job, but today was a bit more hazardous than usual. Today the shower needed a dousing, which meant using some special--and very heady--chemicals! Now I'm not normally one for using controlled substances, but this shower-scrubby-bubbles-stuff was ... whoo! I had to keep running out into the living room just make sure I still knew how many noses I had--which meant cleaning took a smidge longer than usual--but that's okay, the bathroom is nice & shiny now. :) Though the poor dog was rather confused, she couldn't quite make out why I kept running back & forth from the porch to the bathroom. Such irregular behaviour usually means a bath for her, so she was a bit edgy all morning. :)
Progressing, my youngest nephew came over and we spent some time waiting for his Grandma to get off the phone. We passed the time just like anyone else would: pretending we were superheroes, and showing off our moves! For some reason though, the kid couldn't decide on which hero he wanted to be. One moment he was sucking all my powers from me (I never did get out of him what those were exactly), then he was trapping me in a web while stoutly defending his title of Batman, next thing I know I'm being shadow-flamed by a dragon named Cynder! It was all very confusing. Then he calmed down and decided he was a kitty & I needed to buy him & bring him home... nevermind that I'm allergic to kitties & just want a nice goldfish, I must buy him & he's a kitty!
Then Mum called a halt to our antics by announcing her intent to vacuum & kicking me out for the afternoon. Aaaand here we are! :)
Well that was fun. :)
Alas though, my hour is almost up & I must needs run back home soon.
Cuddle your platypi everyday!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Wednesday
It is sometimes not the best thing in the world to wait until Wednesday night to write, because sometimes nighttime rolls around & I am too tired to string very many sentences together at once.
But I said I would post.
So, this is me, posting a lame post.
The point of this post is to post something pointing to the post that should appear posted at some point tomorrow morning.
Thursday morning I will string more sentences together.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to say goodnight, and go to bed.
Good night.
But I said I would post.
So, this is me, posting a lame post.
The point of this post is to post something pointing to the post that should appear posted at some point tomorrow morning.
Thursday morning I will string more sentences together.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to say goodnight, and go to bed.
Good night.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
"Always Bring a Banana to a Party"
~The Doctor
Yikes it's been a while...
I thought about changing the title of this post to something not-a-flair-quote, but actually descriptive of what the content of this post was going to be--then I thought "why?" Honestly, if I were to name this something like, I don't know, "April Showers" or "Hermiting & the Life of an Introvert", I might manage to stay on topic. But what would be far more likely to happen would be staying on topic--if I'm clever & very very lucky--for roughly 14 words. Then I would follow some rabbit down a deep dark hole, drink a little eat-me-cake, and the rest would spin out of control from there.
Besides, I like this quote, so I'm keeping it.
I do have a couple of thing in mind to write about though. Chiefest among them is possibly a catching-up on what's been going on & why haven't I written on here in so very long?! Or, something like that...
I promised myself this wouldn't be just another passing fad.
I promised myself I would write regularly with this blog.
I promised myself not another night/week/month would go by without a new post.
I promised myself would call.
I promised myself I would write.
I promised myself I would visit.
I promised myself I wouldn't slip into the old habits again.
I promised myself I would clean.
I promised myself a lot of things...
Why don't I keep all these promises I make to myself?
I consider my word to be a binding thing--if I tell someone I will or won't do something, I follow through. I will bend over backwards to keep my word--which is why I'm very cautious about giving it. Except, I never feel obligated to keep such promises when made to myself. Why?
I was once asked by a very dear friend "Why do you undervalue your own opinion so much?" In the moment I didn't realize I was doing it, I thought I was just being honest about it's worth, but looking back I realized she was right. I was devaluing my own pain. Could it be something similar that happens when I don't keep these promises to myself? I'm not important, why bother. Anyone else is important enough to keep a promise to, but not myself.
"Love thy neighbour as thyself" the commandment says... Can I honestly value others if I deny my own value in the sight of my King?
While in undergrad I learned a tough (for me) but valuable lesson: I can't take care of anyone else well if I don't look after myself.
Well then. I feel kind of stupid when this happens, but I appear to have forgotten something essential yet again.
How's this: I promise you, and myself, that I will write on this blog every Wednesday. Let's see if I can't keep one to myself, & I'll move on from there.
Now, on a completely unrelated (maybe?) topic: This year was the first I remember every observing the season of Lent, and it was very educational. Ash Wednesday I also observed (it fell on my birthday, ironically enough), and that was beautiful, but I think Lent I learned the most from this year.
I fasted from fictional books. Mind you, I love books. My own personal heaven is a cozy chair, a fluffy blanket, a bowl of dark chocolate peanut m&m's, and a room full of my favorite novels accompanied by a schedule completely free of obligations. So seriously, over a month without!? Yeah... let's do it... I love Jesus lots...
I thought I would spend more time writing, praying, and reading books like "The Case for Christ", "Classics of Philosophy", and... oh gee, maybe THE BIBLE... As it turned out, I just played a lot more video games.
It was a nice idea, and very well-intentioned at least.
Easter came (why do we call it "Easter" anyway? What does that have to do with Resurrection Sunday?? Please tell me if you know!), and I thought "well bummer, that was a failure of a Lent fast!" But I'm reconsidering...
To the well-organized mind, is anything ever really a failure? No, I didn't accomplish what I wanted to, but that needn't mean I go without learning from the experience. Introspection & evaluation of the whole Lent idea & my own experience can show a lot about God & myself, and our relationship...
For instance: If I want to coax my brain into writing, passively taking away forms of entertainment simply isn't going to cut it. I am very much a lazy person sometimes; if one form of entertainment is taken away my natural inclination is--far from going & being productive--to go & find something else to play. I will even, on occasion, resort to staring into space instead of doing something productive! Much as it may disgust me to admit, nothing can be done to fix it if I refuse to acknowledge the problem exists. :P
Also, a random thought I thought when Lent first started: I began counting down the days till Easter (life soon became too crazed & insane to keep that up, but I did it once) and I wondered... Do you think Christ counted down the days while He was in the desert & fasted? Did He look forward to the fulfillment of His wandering with anticipation? Or did He just give over all future events to His Father and focus on living completely and totally in each moment He lived as it came to Him?
I wonder, how to balance the joy of living in the present with the need to prepare for the future--even knowing the future we prepare for may never actually reach us...
Well, I hafta run. There's been a new Doctor Who episode out since Saturday and I haven't seen it yet!! Probably because I've had my nose buried in a book since Sunday... hehehe...
By the by, watch out for those dandelions. My nephew's informed me that they're taking over the world... just thought ya might need to know. No need to worry about the Zombie Apocalypse, the dandelions will be taking over first. :)
Yikes it's been a while...
I thought about changing the title of this post to something not-a-flair-quote, but actually descriptive of what the content of this post was going to be--then I thought "why?" Honestly, if I were to name this something like, I don't know, "April Showers" or "Hermiting & the Life of an Introvert", I might manage to stay on topic. But what would be far more likely to happen would be staying on topic--if I'm clever & very very lucky--for roughly 14 words. Then I would follow some rabbit down a deep dark hole, drink a little eat-me-cake, and the rest would spin out of control from there.
Besides, I like this quote, so I'm keeping it.
I do have a couple of thing in mind to write about though. Chiefest among them is possibly a catching-up on what's been going on & why haven't I written on here in so very long?! Or, something like that...
I promised myself this wouldn't be just another passing fad.
I promised myself I would write regularly with this blog.
I promised myself not another night/week/month would go by without a new post.
I promised myself would call.
I promised myself I would write.
I promised myself I would visit.
I promised myself I wouldn't slip into the old habits again.
I promised myself I would clean.
I promised myself a lot of things...
Why don't I keep all these promises I make to myself?
I consider my word to be a binding thing--if I tell someone I will or won't do something, I follow through. I will bend over backwards to keep my word--which is why I'm very cautious about giving it. Except, I never feel obligated to keep such promises when made to myself. Why?
I was once asked by a very dear friend "Why do you undervalue your own opinion so much?" In the moment I didn't realize I was doing it, I thought I was just being honest about it's worth, but looking back I realized she was right. I was devaluing my own pain. Could it be something similar that happens when I don't keep these promises to myself? I'm not important, why bother. Anyone else is important enough to keep a promise to, but not myself.
"Love thy neighbour as thyself" the commandment says... Can I honestly value others if I deny my own value in the sight of my King?
While in undergrad I learned a tough (for me) but valuable lesson: I can't take care of anyone else well if I don't look after myself.
Well then. I feel kind of stupid when this happens, but I appear to have forgotten something essential yet again.
How's this: I promise you, and myself, that I will write on this blog every Wednesday. Let's see if I can't keep one to myself, & I'll move on from there.
Now, on a completely unrelated (maybe?) topic: This year was the first I remember every observing the season of Lent, and it was very educational. Ash Wednesday I also observed (it fell on my birthday, ironically enough), and that was beautiful, but I think Lent I learned the most from this year.
I fasted from fictional books. Mind you, I love books. My own personal heaven is a cozy chair, a fluffy blanket, a bowl of dark chocolate peanut m&m's, and a room full of my favorite novels accompanied by a schedule completely free of obligations. So seriously, over a month without!? Yeah... let's do it... I love Jesus lots...
I thought I would spend more time writing, praying, and reading books like "The Case for Christ", "Classics of Philosophy", and... oh gee, maybe THE BIBLE... As it turned out, I just played a lot more video games.
It was a nice idea, and very well-intentioned at least.
Easter came (why do we call it "Easter" anyway? What does that have to do with Resurrection Sunday?? Please tell me if you know!), and I thought "well bummer, that was a failure of a Lent fast!" But I'm reconsidering...
To the well-organized mind, is anything ever really a failure? No, I didn't accomplish what I wanted to, but that needn't mean I go without learning from the experience. Introspection & evaluation of the whole Lent idea & my own experience can show a lot about God & myself, and our relationship...
For instance: If I want to coax my brain into writing, passively taking away forms of entertainment simply isn't going to cut it. I am very much a lazy person sometimes; if one form of entertainment is taken away my natural inclination is--far from going & being productive--to go & find something else to play. I will even, on occasion, resort to staring into space instead of doing something productive! Much as it may disgust me to admit, nothing can be done to fix it if I refuse to acknowledge the problem exists. :P
Also, a random thought I thought when Lent first started: I began counting down the days till Easter (life soon became too crazed & insane to keep that up, but I did it once) and I wondered... Do you think Christ counted down the days while He was in the desert & fasted? Did He look forward to the fulfillment of His wandering with anticipation? Or did He just give over all future events to His Father and focus on living completely and totally in each moment He lived as it came to Him?
I wonder, how to balance the joy of living in the present with the need to prepare for the future--even knowing the future we prepare for may never actually reach us...
Well, I hafta run. There's been a new Doctor Who episode out since Saturday and I haven't seen it yet!! Probably because I've had my nose buried in a book since Sunday... hehehe...
By the by, watch out for those dandelions. My nephew's informed me that they're taking over the world... just thought ya might need to know. No need to worry about the Zombie Apocalypse, the dandelions will be taking over first. :)
Monday, February 28, 2011
"Did he just go crazy and fall asleep?"
~Firefly
So I've noticed something about writing... Y'know how some writers get their greatest inspiration, they create their finest works in moments of greatest depression, self-doubt, and darkness.
I'm not one of them.
It's odd, but I'm not sure if I get down because I don't persist in writing enough (writing certainly can turn a down day into a, up one)--or maybe when I'm down I just don't write.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? :)
As you can see though, I'm writing today. Today's been pretty decent. It's not raining, but it probably will this week! Yay! (Yes, I'm one of those weirdos, don't hate me)
But it's still an interesting question. To put it differently (& in a simpler fashion):
Do I write because I'm happy?
Or does writing make me happy?
Not that I haven't written when I'm down, but ... that was usually poetry, and I don't count that. I don't know how most poets write, but for myself I can honestly say that the poetry muse only moves in me occasionally--and that's the only time any poetry I write is worthwhile. She also moves very unpredictably in me... but that's another post.
Also on writing, I finished another journal today. It was red with a shiny gold pattern, and it was hardback. The pages were beautiful, a light red (oh alright, pink) with a more solid toned pattern on the edge where the lines for writing stopped. Her name was CoraSueño, Heart's Dream (I know, that's not the literal Spanish translation, it's a name I made up so I don't care! :P).
R.I.P. CoraSueño, may your last page be filled with beautiful dreams.
So I've noticed something about writing... Y'know how some writers get their greatest inspiration, they create their finest works in moments of greatest depression, self-doubt, and darkness.
I'm not one of them.
It's odd, but I'm not sure if I get down because I don't persist in writing enough (writing certainly can turn a down day into a, up one)--or maybe when I'm down I just don't write.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? :)
As you can see though, I'm writing today. Today's been pretty decent. It's not raining, but it probably will this week! Yay! (Yes, I'm one of those weirdos, don't hate me)
But it's still an interesting question. To put it differently (& in a simpler fashion):
Do I write because I'm happy?
Or does writing make me happy?
Not that I haven't written when I'm down, but ... that was usually poetry, and I don't count that. I don't know how most poets write, but for myself I can honestly say that the poetry muse only moves in me occasionally--and that's the only time any poetry I write is worthwhile. She also moves very unpredictably in me... but that's another post.
Also on writing, I finished another journal today. It was red with a shiny gold pattern, and it was hardback. The pages were beautiful, a light red (oh alright, pink) with a more solid toned pattern on the edge where the lines for writing stopped. Her name was CoraSueño, Heart's Dream (I know, that's not the literal Spanish translation, it's a name I made up so I don't care! :P).
R.I.P. CoraSueño, may your last page be filled with beautiful dreams.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
"Act well your part, there all the honor lies."
~Alexander Pope
There is sunshine outside today, and I felt perfectly comfortable in a t-shirt! (Plague on those red squiggly lines, they are such a concentration breaker!!) I love warmth, but the skeptic within keeps sneering at the gleeful five-year-old and reminding me that it's only February, snow will yet return. :P That's alright though, the five-year-old is still excited, it's hard to dampen that.
But enough about the weather...
Life, how's it been going lately? Hmmm... well... There was that uber-exciting trip to Indiana to see the Bethel production of Cinderella, and to see all the friends that were there, and the road-trip part of it...
Hmm... this blogging seems to be rather unproductive. I don't know how I can have gone on such a magnificent trip and come back with so little to write here about, but maybe it has something to do with all the other ideas running around in my head. No worries though, I'll leave you with something, if not something interesting. Then I'm off to write fiction--pure, unadulterated (why do writers use that particular word there so often I wonder?) fiction.
I've written about love, have I told you about joy?
Joy is the winter that eventually ends.
Joy is the starlight in the present black.
Joy is a friend, miles away,
That wishes you never had to leave,
But loving you all the same.
Joy is memories fondly recalled,
And the hope of new ones to come.
Joy is strong enough to stand in the darkness,
And free enough to break any chain.
Joy is sunlight remembered and hoped for.
Joy is friendship, past and future.
Joy is in the moment, forgetting sorrow and fear.
Joy inspires in spite of the drought.
Joy smiles at love, and laughs at doubt.
There is sunshine outside today, and I felt perfectly comfortable in a t-shirt! (Plague on those red squiggly lines, they are such a concentration breaker!!) I love warmth, but the skeptic within keeps sneering at the gleeful five-year-old and reminding me that it's only February, snow will yet return. :P That's alright though, the five-year-old is still excited, it's hard to dampen that.
But enough about the weather...
Life, how's it been going lately? Hmmm... well... There was that uber-exciting trip to Indiana to see the Bethel production of Cinderella, and to see all the friends that were there, and the road-trip part of it...
Hmm... this blogging seems to be rather unproductive. I don't know how I can have gone on such a magnificent trip and come back with so little to write here about, but maybe it has something to do with all the other ideas running around in my head. No worries though, I'll leave you with something, if not something interesting. Then I'm off to write fiction--pure, unadulterated (why do writers use that particular word there so often I wonder?) fiction.
I've written about love, have I told you about joy?
Joy is the winter that eventually ends.
Joy is the starlight in the present black.
Joy is a friend, miles away,
That wishes you never had to leave,
But loving you all the same.
Joy is memories fondly recalled,
And the hope of new ones to come.
Joy is strong enough to stand in the darkness,
And free enough to break any chain.
Joy is sunlight remembered and hoped for.
Joy is friendship, past and future.
Joy is in the moment, forgetting sorrow and fear.
Joy inspires in spite of the drought.
Joy smiles at love, and laughs at doubt.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I'm Not Crazy, I'm Rehearsing
Ah! Who knew getting out of the house with enough time for writing could be so difficult?!
I'm so happy to have found a coffee shop again--is it odd to miss being in a coffee shop? There just seems to be a certain aura that can only be found in a place that specializes in coffee & tea that cannot be found anywhere else. Maybe it's the writer in me, I hear that writers tend to be drawn to these havens like moth to flame... Maybe that's why I've missed it. But I've found one now, so there's no need to miss anymore! Yay!
But enough about coffee shops (well, digression from thence at least).
The parents are back, life has returned to normal, I'm no longer in charge of cooking in the house. That's kind of a happyness, but kind of saddening too. I rather enjoyed the adventure of it all.
All the same, I'm glad to see the parents back.
This weekend is Bethel College's production of Cinderella! Whoohoo! I'm going to see it tomorrow! Huzzah! Wait, it's freezing outside, so I'm heading ... north?! What? Who's bright idea was that?!
Ah well, can't have it all.
This is crazy, I've been thinking so much lately, & wanting to write here a ton. But here I am AGAIN!! Mer. Fine. I would forget to bring my writer's book with me this one time. Ah well, hopefully a routine can develop soon such that I will not do this nonsense anymore.
Before I go, I will leave you with this, a poem I wrote a while ago:
How can I say
What I know not?
How can I play
If I know not the rules?
How might I dance
Not knowing the steps?
Must I take a chance
With my life in my hands?
With the flames dancing high
Whilst the thunder rolls loud,
I look to the sky
And sing!
Such stuff is of life
Not knowing but guessing,
Fighting through strife,
And leaping in faith.
I'm so happy to have found a coffee shop again--is it odd to miss being in a coffee shop? There just seems to be a certain aura that can only be found in a place that specializes in coffee & tea that cannot be found anywhere else. Maybe it's the writer in me, I hear that writers tend to be drawn to these havens like moth to flame... Maybe that's why I've missed it. But I've found one now, so there's no need to miss anymore! Yay!
But enough about coffee shops (well, digression from thence at least).
The parents are back, life has returned to normal, I'm no longer in charge of cooking in the house. That's kind of a happyness, but kind of saddening too. I rather enjoyed the adventure of it all.
All the same, I'm glad to see the parents back.
This weekend is Bethel College's production of Cinderella! Whoohoo! I'm going to see it tomorrow! Huzzah! Wait, it's freezing outside, so I'm heading ... north?! What? Who's bright idea was that?!
Ah well, can't have it all.
This is crazy, I've been thinking so much lately, & wanting to write here a ton. But here I am AGAIN!! Mer. Fine. I would forget to bring my writer's book with me this one time. Ah well, hopefully a routine can develop soon such that I will not do this nonsense anymore.
Before I go, I will leave you with this, a poem I wrote a while ago:
How can I say
What I know not?
How can I play
If I know not the rules?
How might I dance
Not knowing the steps?
Must I take a chance
With my life in my hands?
With the flames dancing high
Whilst the thunder rolls loud,
I look to the sky
And sing!
Such stuff is of life
Not knowing but guessing,
Fighting through strife,
And leaping in faith.
Monday, January 31, 2011
WARNING: Children left Unattended Will Be Sold to the Circus
So much to write about & so little time! Ah! This is what happens when I get sick & don't make it out of the house for a week. :P
First off: So this week is kind of a personal "Survivor" for me, & I thought of possibly making a mini-series in this blog to document. See, the folks went to Minnesota to a) visit family & b) go to job interviews!(Yeah, go Dad!). For the better part of the week that means it's just me and the dog, and the dog's not allowed to cook.
That's right, I'm gonna be cookin'. Mind you, my experiential knowledge of this artform is limited mostly to baking & the very basic things... like boiling water. But my theoretical knowledge is vast & lofty! ... ish. So this week is essentially my shot to put all that theory to the test & see how I do.
In planning I realized most of what I was menu-ing was fried stuff. Y'know: eggs, fried lunchmeats, mushrooms... the like. It should be interesting.
But so far I've been eating at other people's places or demolishing the leftovers that will go bad otherwise. I'll try to keep you updated though... should be interesting.
Second thing to write about: I have found a magical charm to keep me from growing up!! Here it is:
"Know all the Questions, but not the Answers
Look for the Different, instead of the Same
Never Walk where there's room for Running
Don't do anything that can't be a Game"
I think I need to frame this & hang it up somewhere conspicuous.
I rediscovered this magic formulae in a book that was published in 1886, copyrighted in 1970. Written by Zilpha Keatley Snyder (another amazing name for an author!), "The Changeling" was my Mum's favorite book, then she gave it to me (or I pilfered it, not sure...) and it became one of my favorites. It is a beautiful story that I reread lately for the first time in years, and it still holds so much meaning and so many new nuances that I never saw before. If you haven't, you need to read this book!
Last thing to write about, then I hafta go: I found a fortune a couple of days ago while I was cleaning my desk. I sometimes save the fortunes from fortune cookies (yeah, no moneys, don't get excited) if i think they're particularly clever. This one was the best I've ever seen, & it's the note I shall leave you with today. Ponder the wisdom of it & enrich your life!
"If you bite the hand that feeds you, it won't taste as good as the food you were fed."
First off: So this week is kind of a personal "Survivor" for me, & I thought of possibly making a mini-series in this blog to document. See, the folks went to Minnesota to a) visit family & b) go to job interviews!(Yeah, go Dad!). For the better part of the week that means it's just me and the dog, and the dog's not allowed to cook.
That's right, I'm gonna be cookin'. Mind you, my experiential knowledge of this artform is limited mostly to baking & the very basic things... like boiling water. But my theoretical knowledge is vast & lofty! ... ish. So this week is essentially my shot to put all that theory to the test & see how I do.
In planning I realized most of what I was menu-ing was fried stuff. Y'know: eggs, fried lunchmeats, mushrooms... the like. It should be interesting.
But so far I've been eating at other people's places or demolishing the leftovers that will go bad otherwise. I'll try to keep you updated though... should be interesting.
Second thing to write about: I have found a magical charm to keep me from growing up!! Here it is:
"Know all the Questions, but not the Answers
Look for the Different, instead of the Same
Never Walk where there's room for Running
Don't do anything that can't be a Game"
I think I need to frame this & hang it up somewhere conspicuous.
I rediscovered this magic formulae in a book that was published in 1886, copyrighted in 1970. Written by Zilpha Keatley Snyder (another amazing name for an author!), "The Changeling" was my Mum's favorite book, then she gave it to me (or I pilfered it, not sure...) and it became one of my favorites. It is a beautiful story that I reread lately for the first time in years, and it still holds so much meaning and so many new nuances that I never saw before. If you haven't, you need to read this book!
Last thing to write about, then I hafta go: I found a fortune a couple of days ago while I was cleaning my desk. I sometimes save the fortunes from fortune cookies (yeah, no moneys, don't get excited) if i think they're particularly clever. This one was the best I've ever seen, & it's the note I shall leave you with today. Ponder the wisdom of it & enrich your life!
"If you bite the hand that feeds you, it won't taste as good as the food you were fed."
Monday, January 24, 2011
On a Scale of One to Crazy, I'm a Penguin
Hello again my friends! It's been far too long! :)
So life lately has been rather interesting, and good. Lots of good.
Here I sit at the library, with only a short space of time in which to write, but I've been wanting to sit here and write for so long. The sad thing is that there are so many stories running around in here that I almost don't know where to start--but that's the brilliant thing about a blog, don't you think? With a blog, the writer just begins with where they are and ends when they need to.
Speaking of beginning where I am, did you know that the answer to life, the universe, and everything is NOT 42, contrary to Douglas Adams? It's true, a friend of mine & I actually did scientific research & discovered that the answer is ACTUALLY platypus.
No really, I'm not kidding.
So if I appear to be a bit random & scatterbrained today, it's most likely because I am. That's what happens when I:
1) Am coming down with a cold
2) Woke up at 6:30am
3) Have taken Dayquil &
4) Am pretty happy for no apparent reason.
Did I mention that it's warmer outside today? Okay, maybe that's the fever talking (Mum said I don't have one, but I can't help but think I do), but it really seemed pretty balmy outside--aside from the snow on the ground... I actually went out without an overcoat on & didn't freeze! It's a miracle! It's a spring!
And I saw a whole flock of robins this morning!!
'Kay, all these exclamation points get old fast.
I went back & reread some of my old journals the other day & was slightly surprised at how much I knew then that I'd forgotten. Especially when it came to Spanish! there were more than one page on which I realized I only understood about half of what I'd written! That felt a bit odd... I know I wrote that & knew what I was writing at the time, but for the life of me I cannae understand a whit of it now.
Yep, forgotten wisdom. That's why it's good to remember where I've been brought from & to & all that.
But I hafta go now. More on other stuff later. Props to ya for reading all this, by the by. Go have a great day, and build a snowman!!
So life lately has been rather interesting, and good. Lots of good.
Here I sit at the library, with only a short space of time in which to write, but I've been wanting to sit here and write for so long. The sad thing is that there are so many stories running around in here that I almost don't know where to start--but that's the brilliant thing about a blog, don't you think? With a blog, the writer just begins with where they are and ends when they need to.
Speaking of beginning where I am, did you know that the answer to life, the universe, and everything is NOT 42, contrary to Douglas Adams? It's true, a friend of mine & I actually did scientific research & discovered that the answer is ACTUALLY platypus.
No really, I'm not kidding.
So if I appear to be a bit random & scatterbrained today, it's most likely because I am. That's what happens when I:
1) Am coming down with a cold
2) Woke up at 6:30am
3) Have taken Dayquil &
4) Am pretty happy for no apparent reason.
Did I mention that it's warmer outside today? Okay, maybe that's the fever talking (Mum said I don't have one, but I can't help but think I do), but it really seemed pretty balmy outside--aside from the snow on the ground... I actually went out without an overcoat on & didn't freeze! It's a miracle! It's a spring!
And I saw a whole flock of robins this morning!!
'Kay, all these exclamation points get old fast.
I went back & reread some of my old journals the other day & was slightly surprised at how much I knew then that I'd forgotten. Especially when it came to Spanish! there were more than one page on which I realized I only understood about half of what I'd written! That felt a bit odd... I know I wrote that & knew what I was writing at the time, but for the life of me I cannae understand a whit of it now.
Yep, forgotten wisdom. That's why it's good to remember where I've been brought from & to & all that.
But I hafta go now. More on other stuff later. Props to ya for reading all this, by the by. Go have a great day, and build a snowman!!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
"Do or Do Not. There is no Try."
~Master Yoda
So... this whole getting up at 8am... It has completely messed up my writing schedule. Sorry all, that's the most recent reason for the irregularity of posts! I like writing at night, I'm more creative then & fewer people are awake to place demands on my attention.
Or something like that.
But waking up at 8am? Uffda, my brain feels shot by midnight!! I'm so out of ... well, not exactly shape... out of practice I guess. I got used to being a night owl, now I'm trying to be a morning (okay, more morningish) person. I'm not sure I can do this!
I keep thinking of these great posts I should write, but I think of them while away from lappy/interwebs, then I get back to both in the evening before bed & all I want to do is go to bed. AAaAAAAah!! Am I turning into an old people? May it never be!!
Meh, enough whining. I just need to suck it up & get back into the habit of NOT sleeping so very much. :P Seriously, since when is 8 hours of sleep even necessary? Bah, suck it up, brain of mine, you're getting less sleep & you'll like it!!
Anyhoo, back to not yelling at self while typing...
The last post I found rather interesting to write & thought someone somewhere who's unlikely even to be reading this ever might enjoy an explanation of how that last post came into being... okay, actually, I just think it's kind of interesting & feel like writing about it. So there. :P
Monday was a bad day. Now, I'm fully aware that Monday's are generally associated with not much fun as it is, but this past Monday was really bad. I'm talking melt-downs, puffy eyes, hopes & dreams shattering & falling to bits on the floor bad day.
Of course, in retrospect, bad days are just days--they are mere flyspecks on the map of existence, even in one person's life.
That being said, it's hard to remember that in the midst of it, and being told such a thing is tantamount to asking for a beating. Pain, no matter the actual size, never feels small while it's being experienced.
I digress (is that possible on this blog? I need to come up with a different word for this...). So Monday was a bad day. To get away a bit & try to accomplish something constructive, albeit not as much as I had planned, I went to the library in search of the ever-elusive intersphere (thank you xkcd for a never-ending font of "internet" synonyms :) that I might do something.
**Brief sidenote** I feel at this point in our relationship, my dear readers, it would be helpful to inform you that when I grow tired, or when my brain becomes weary, my vocabulary tends to... expand. I use a lot of words, especially in writing, that I usually keep under wraps because if I use them in everyday conversation they do nothing so much as disrupt the normal flow of conversation. That being said, I'm looking at what I've just written & realizing that it sounds much more stilted than my usual writing... or maybe that's just me. I don't know if it's because this particular effect is taking place, or maybe I'm just past the point of safe writing. But I thought you deserved a fair warning. But back to the narrative!! **Sidenote Over**
So I found myself at the library, facing my blog (any ideas? I'm getting desperate for a different word...) & knowing that I should write something. But I couldn't write about what had happened that day, and I couldn't think of anything else happening in life that I should write about in that mental state. What else to write about?
A story, that's it! Write a story... about... ummmm... what?
But that part you read already... if you read this blog. Unless you just started reading this blog & aren't one of those people who go back & read in the archives. Or maybe you missed the last post, & haven't gone back & read it yet. Or maybe you just started reading, got confused, and decided to stop before you became as odd as I am... I'm babbling in type now, my apologies...
But yeah, so I started writing, thought that opening line sounded cool, then proceeded to try to scrabble together something resembling a story not too terribly implausible. I hope you enjoyed, I know it was a lot of fun to write. I won't be trying to edit it anytime ever, but the whole thing was very therapeutic and I would highly recommend it for any writer.
Yep. That's all I'm writing about for now, folks. I have another post in the works that's slightly more intellectual in content, but that will wait for tomorrow... Until then, don't blink when you're around stone statues, m'kay? ;)
So... this whole getting up at 8am... It has completely messed up my writing schedule. Sorry all, that's the most recent reason for the irregularity of posts! I like writing at night, I'm more creative then & fewer people are awake to place demands on my attention.
Or something like that.
But waking up at 8am? Uffda, my brain feels shot by midnight!! I'm so out of ... well, not exactly shape... out of practice I guess. I got used to being a night owl, now I'm trying to be a morning (okay, more morningish) person. I'm not sure I can do this!
I keep thinking of these great posts I should write, but I think of them while away from lappy/interwebs, then I get back to both in the evening before bed & all I want to do is go to bed. AAaAAAAah!! Am I turning into an old people? May it never be!!
Meh, enough whining. I just need to suck it up & get back into the habit of NOT sleeping so very much. :P Seriously, since when is 8 hours of sleep even necessary? Bah, suck it up, brain of mine, you're getting less sleep & you'll like it!!
Anyhoo, back to not yelling at self while typing...
The last post I found rather interesting to write & thought someone somewhere who's unlikely even to be reading this ever might enjoy an explanation of how that last post came into being... okay, actually, I just think it's kind of interesting & feel like writing about it. So there. :P
Monday was a bad day. Now, I'm fully aware that Monday's are generally associated with not much fun as it is, but this past Monday was really bad. I'm talking melt-downs, puffy eyes, hopes & dreams shattering & falling to bits on the floor bad day.
Of course, in retrospect, bad days are just days--they are mere flyspecks on the map of existence, even in one person's life.
That being said, it's hard to remember that in the midst of it, and being told such a thing is tantamount to asking for a beating. Pain, no matter the actual size, never feels small while it's being experienced.
I digress (is that possible on this blog? I need to come up with a different word for this...). So Monday was a bad day. To get away a bit & try to accomplish something constructive, albeit not as much as I had planned, I went to the library in search of the ever-elusive intersphere (thank you xkcd for a never-ending font of "internet" synonyms :) that I might do something.
**Brief sidenote** I feel at this point in our relationship, my dear readers, it would be helpful to inform you that when I grow tired, or when my brain becomes weary, my vocabulary tends to... expand. I use a lot of words, especially in writing, that I usually keep under wraps because if I use them in everyday conversation they do nothing so much as disrupt the normal flow of conversation. That being said, I'm looking at what I've just written & realizing that it sounds much more stilted than my usual writing... or maybe that's just me. I don't know if it's because this particular effect is taking place, or maybe I'm just past the point of safe writing. But I thought you deserved a fair warning. But back to the narrative!! **Sidenote Over**
So I found myself at the library, facing my blog (any ideas? I'm getting desperate for a different word...) & knowing that I should write something. But I couldn't write about what had happened that day, and I couldn't think of anything else happening in life that I should write about in that mental state. What else to write about?
A story, that's it! Write a story... about... ummmm... what?
But that part you read already... if you read this blog. Unless you just started reading this blog & aren't one of those people who go back & read in the archives. Or maybe you missed the last post, & haven't gone back & read it yet. Or maybe you just started reading, got confused, and decided to stop before you became as odd as I am... I'm babbling in type now, my apologies...
But yeah, so I started writing, thought that opening line sounded cool, then proceeded to try to scrabble together something resembling a story not too terribly implausible. I hope you enjoyed, I know it was a lot of fun to write. I won't be trying to edit it anytime ever, but the whole thing was very therapeutic and I would highly recommend it for any writer.
Yep. That's all I'm writing about for now, folks. I have another post in the works that's slightly more intellectual in content, but that will wait for tomorrow... Until then, don't blink when you're around stone statues, m'kay? ;)
Monday, January 10, 2011
"How Can Something Seem so Plausible at the Time and so Idiotic in Retrospect?"
~Calvin&Hobbes
Once upon a time, long long ago, in a place far far away, when the universe itself was yet young...
The stars came out to dance.
Now when I say "the stars came out" the natural question to ask is "came out of what? out of where?" After all, we're speaking of times before humans and the earth and suchlike, so I must not mean that phrase in the usual way. It's a very good question to ask, actually, well done!
Back in the days when the universe was young & the stars still hadn't memorized their parts in the Great Dance they all lived in a smallish hut on a slightly larger (but still smallish) rock that merely floated through space. The stars were actually very much smaller then, and they shrank down even more when they weren't dancing. Of course, in the times I speak of they were very small indeed--they didn't even know they could dance yet!
One day as the stars were all huddled in their smallish hut on the slightly larger rock they began to argue. This occurrence in itself is not all that noteworthy, they argued all the time. The noteworthy thing about this argument was who started the argument. The stars were divided into several different sizes & ages--much like they are now actually. There were the much bigger older stars, the much smaller older stars, the much bigger younger stars, and the much smaller younger stars. Of course, it would be unfair to try generalizing the stars into categories like "the bigger stars are the most irritable", or "the younger stars are always so sullen". After all, you get those stars in every crowd, no matter the size or age.
Yet it cannot help but be noticed that there were certain stars among the younger & bigger category that seemed unable to restrain their bragging of how far they had explored & how much they had seen. It also must be noticed that this irritated certain of the older stars to no end, and it was usually the smaller ones that responded in a particularly cutting & maddening fashion. Then the younger & bigger stars would puff themselves up & respond in kind, the bigger & older stars would leap to the defense of the smaller & older stars, the smaller & younger stars would leap in last after throwing in a few choice comments that stirred up the situation, and general havoc would ensue.
There were a few stars that almost never joined in the fights that took place in the smallish hut. At the first scent of trouble they would flee the rock & go out exploring, just to get away. Among these was a smaller & younger star named Asta, and this star was usually the first to leave, and the last to speak about anything.
This particular day in question the fighting had subsided a while ago, the participants were licking their wounds and laughing with each other again, and the ones who fled had all come back. Asta was among the last to return, and seemed particularly preoccupied with something, but wouldn't tell what it was. This aroused the curiosity of all the other stars, so the younger ones commenced with interrogating.
"Did you find a new asteroid belt?"
"No, no asteroids."
"A new gas formation, maybe. Have you found a new color?"
"No."
"Did you find the edge of space?! It must have been the edge, we should go jump off it & see where we end up--"
"It wasn't the edge of space!"
"What did you find then?"
Asta was silent far a bit as the other stars waited in silence.
"It was something I heard. I think I heard... Music."
This caused a general outbreak among the rest of the stars. Some of the bigger & younger ones laughed at Asta's tentative assertion, which caused some of the smaller & older ones to scold them, which led to a few of the smaller & younger ones to... well, you get the idea.
Sometime during the fighting Asta slipped away. One of the older & smaller stars saw the escape & decided--on a whim--to follow & see where this little star would go. But Asta was unusually talented at slipping away from the other stars, and so was very aware that someone was following. This time instead of giving the slip, however, Asta stopped and waited for Ora (this was the older & smaller star's name). Having realized that Asta knew of Ora's pursuit, the older star decided the wiser course of action was not to hide, but come forward honestly.
No words were exchanged, instead Asta simply gave a nod to Ora and continued to the last place the music had been heard. This may have surprised Ora, or perhaps not. The star was suddenly far too busy trying to keep up with the youngster to notice.
They continued like this for what seemed to be a long time. It was difficult to gauge the passage of time in those days, as I'm sure you would have realized had you simply thought about how we measure time nowadays & what was different then. There is the possibility that stars have different methods of accomplishing this, but if they do they haven't told anyone yet--that I know of.
But as I was saying, they continued to travel toward the Music for a long time. When they finally reached their destination Ora gasped in astonishment and Asta smiled in delight. There had been many myths of Music among the stars, but none had ever found it before--or, if they had, they'd never shared this wondrous treasure with the rest of the stars.
Ora & Asta were very content to just sit and listen to this beautiful sound, but it began to fade away far too soon. Still they remained, straining their ears for just a wisp of sound, but in vain. Thoughtfully, the two stars made their way back to the smallish hut on the slightly larger rock.
When they arrived the chaos had again subsided. This time it was Ora who marched decisively to the middle of the group and said in a voice loud enough to be heard by every star in the hut and on the rock:
"Asta has found the Music. I think we should all go and listen to this amazing discovery!"
Silence fell on the rock. It was one thing to laugh at a younger & smaller star, but Ora was older--smaller yes, but this only made a star that much more fierce if they were old enough to know how to use it. And none doubted that Ora knew how to use this lack of size in an advantageous fashion. Still, Music had only existed in the realm of myth and legend. This proposition was rather ludicrous, but no one really wanted to say this. Quite the fix the stars found themselves in!
One of the older & bigger stars soon thought of a way to save face, however. Alva stepped forward and said, in a big laughing voice, "I see no reason not too, my exploration for the Edge can always wait a little longer. Let us see little Asta's Music!" The rest of the stars, recognizing a way to save face and still be able to ridicule if the occasion arose, cheered and rose above the rock. As one they waited for Asta and Ora to lead the way to this mysterious Music.
And so they led. The stars thought of it as a happy party on the go, they almost never traveled together in groups this huge! Yet both Asta and Ora were silent--they were both far to anxious to hear the Music again.
At last the huge mass of stars reached the place. As one they gasped like Ora had, and this time it was both Ora and Asta that smiled. The stars all stopped in their path and listened.
Then a younger star leaped into the space the Music seemed to be coming from. The star twirled and leapt and tumbled, and in a strange fashion the other stars seemed to see the Music in the actions of the star. As the star danced, the Music did something that it hadn't done before--it seemed to speed up and swell, growing faster and louder and more joyous. The stars were too full of feeling to do anything for a time, then another jumped into the space and joined the first in its dance. That second star jumping in seemed like a signal to the rest of them, and soon every star was laughing and jumping into the dance.
Before they realized what had happened, they were no longer the only ones dancing. Every rock they had ever seen in their explorations seemed intent on joining in, and the stars welcomed them with laughter. The stars themselves no longer seemed the same either, they grew brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.
As the stars laughed and grew, the Music laughed and grew with them. And so they danced forever after.
Once upon a time, long long ago, in a place far far away, when the universe itself was yet young...
The stars came out to dance.
Now when I say "the stars came out" the natural question to ask is "came out of what? out of where?" After all, we're speaking of times before humans and the earth and suchlike, so I must not mean that phrase in the usual way. It's a very good question to ask, actually, well done!
Back in the days when the universe was young & the stars still hadn't memorized their parts in the Great Dance they all lived in a smallish hut on a slightly larger (but still smallish) rock that merely floated through space. The stars were actually very much smaller then, and they shrank down even more when they weren't dancing. Of course, in the times I speak of they were very small indeed--they didn't even know they could dance yet!
One day as the stars were all huddled in their smallish hut on the slightly larger rock they began to argue. This occurrence in itself is not all that noteworthy, they argued all the time. The noteworthy thing about this argument was who started the argument. The stars were divided into several different sizes & ages--much like they are now actually. There were the much bigger older stars, the much smaller older stars, the much bigger younger stars, and the much smaller younger stars. Of course, it would be unfair to try generalizing the stars into categories like "the bigger stars are the most irritable", or "the younger stars are always so sullen". After all, you get those stars in every crowd, no matter the size or age.
Yet it cannot help but be noticed that there were certain stars among the younger & bigger category that seemed unable to restrain their bragging of how far they had explored & how much they had seen. It also must be noticed that this irritated certain of the older stars to no end, and it was usually the smaller ones that responded in a particularly cutting & maddening fashion. Then the younger & bigger stars would puff themselves up & respond in kind, the bigger & older stars would leap to the defense of the smaller & older stars, the smaller & younger stars would leap in last after throwing in a few choice comments that stirred up the situation, and general havoc would ensue.
There were a few stars that almost never joined in the fights that took place in the smallish hut. At the first scent of trouble they would flee the rock & go out exploring, just to get away. Among these was a smaller & younger star named Asta, and this star was usually the first to leave, and the last to speak about anything.
This particular day in question the fighting had subsided a while ago, the participants were licking their wounds and laughing with each other again, and the ones who fled had all come back. Asta was among the last to return, and seemed particularly preoccupied with something, but wouldn't tell what it was. This aroused the curiosity of all the other stars, so the younger ones commenced with interrogating.
"Did you find a new asteroid belt?"
"No, no asteroids."
"A new gas formation, maybe. Have you found a new color?"
"No."
"Did you find the edge of space?! It must have been the edge, we should go jump off it & see where we end up--"
"It wasn't the edge of space!"
"What did you find then?"
Asta was silent far a bit as the other stars waited in silence.
"It was something I heard. I think I heard... Music."
This caused a general outbreak among the rest of the stars. Some of the bigger & younger ones laughed at Asta's tentative assertion, which caused some of the smaller & older ones to scold them, which led to a few of the smaller & younger ones to... well, you get the idea.
Sometime during the fighting Asta slipped away. One of the older & smaller stars saw the escape & decided--on a whim--to follow & see where this little star would go. But Asta was unusually talented at slipping away from the other stars, and so was very aware that someone was following. This time instead of giving the slip, however, Asta stopped and waited for Ora (this was the older & smaller star's name). Having realized that Asta knew of Ora's pursuit, the older star decided the wiser course of action was not to hide, but come forward honestly.
No words were exchanged, instead Asta simply gave a nod to Ora and continued to the last place the music had been heard. This may have surprised Ora, or perhaps not. The star was suddenly far too busy trying to keep up with the youngster to notice.
They continued like this for what seemed to be a long time. It was difficult to gauge the passage of time in those days, as I'm sure you would have realized had you simply thought about how we measure time nowadays & what was different then. There is the possibility that stars have different methods of accomplishing this, but if they do they haven't told anyone yet--that I know of.
But as I was saying, they continued to travel toward the Music for a long time. When they finally reached their destination Ora gasped in astonishment and Asta smiled in delight. There had been many myths of Music among the stars, but none had ever found it before--or, if they had, they'd never shared this wondrous treasure with the rest of the stars.
Ora & Asta were very content to just sit and listen to this beautiful sound, but it began to fade away far too soon. Still they remained, straining their ears for just a wisp of sound, but in vain. Thoughtfully, the two stars made their way back to the smallish hut on the slightly larger rock.
When they arrived the chaos had again subsided. This time it was Ora who marched decisively to the middle of the group and said in a voice loud enough to be heard by every star in the hut and on the rock:
"Asta has found the Music. I think we should all go and listen to this amazing discovery!"
Silence fell on the rock. It was one thing to laugh at a younger & smaller star, but Ora was older--smaller yes, but this only made a star that much more fierce if they were old enough to know how to use it. And none doubted that Ora knew how to use this lack of size in an advantageous fashion. Still, Music had only existed in the realm of myth and legend. This proposition was rather ludicrous, but no one really wanted to say this. Quite the fix the stars found themselves in!
One of the older & bigger stars soon thought of a way to save face, however. Alva stepped forward and said, in a big laughing voice, "I see no reason not too, my exploration for the Edge can always wait a little longer. Let us see little Asta's Music!" The rest of the stars, recognizing a way to save face and still be able to ridicule if the occasion arose, cheered and rose above the rock. As one they waited for Asta and Ora to lead the way to this mysterious Music.
And so they led. The stars thought of it as a happy party on the go, they almost never traveled together in groups this huge! Yet both Asta and Ora were silent--they were both far to anxious to hear the Music again.
At last the huge mass of stars reached the place. As one they gasped like Ora had, and this time it was both Ora and Asta that smiled. The stars all stopped in their path and listened.
Then a younger star leaped into the space the Music seemed to be coming from. The star twirled and leapt and tumbled, and in a strange fashion the other stars seemed to see the Music in the actions of the star. As the star danced, the Music did something that it hadn't done before--it seemed to speed up and swell, growing faster and louder and more joyous. The stars were too full of feeling to do anything for a time, then another jumped into the space and joined the first in its dance. That second star jumping in seemed like a signal to the rest of them, and soon every star was laughing and jumping into the dance.
Before they realized what had happened, they were no longer the only ones dancing. Every rock they had ever seen in their explorations seemed intent on joining in, and the stars welcomed them with laughter. The stars themselves no longer seemed the same either, they grew brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.
As the stars laughed and grew, the Music laughed and grew with them. And so they danced forever after.
Friday, January 7, 2011
"Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted." --John Lennon
So much has happened since I last posted, where do I even begin? Let's see, the last time I checked in was December 13, and today is January 7. Wow. Well, forget trying to catch up (who cares anyway, yeah? :D), let's just write what I'm thinking now & go from there as usual, hm?
I'm not really the type to make resolutions at the beginning of a New Year. The practice seems worn-out, overdone, cliche, and pointless--who remembers in September what they resolved to do in January? Some do, I'm sure, but I've never been the type who would remember. Besides, every new day, every new moment is a chance to begin again--so why wait till the beginning of a new year?
All the same, when I look back on 2010 I am very deeply disappointed in where I am at the beginning of 2011, and at where I'm not. The title of this post is oddly fitting, I get the feeling that I wasted much of 2010--truly wasted it, because it wasn't even enjoyed while it was being wasted.
2011 has begun, and I'm jobless, moneyless, and--if not for the blessings of cyberspace & the connections with out-of-state college pals!--friendless. I'm sitting here in Borders typing this post, and the temptation to wallow in loneliness is very acute. But I did enough of that in 2010 I think, and am resolved to do so no more.
So there are some things that have come about from this new beginning. I know it's a man-made marking of the passage of time, but I am human & live in the dimension of time so I mark its passage--deal with it. :P
When I look back at 2011 I want to be able to say that it was the best year of my life thus far. There's a lot that I'm going to need to do in order to effect such a happening, but so be it. May it never be said of me that I sat by & let life go on without me.
In other news, I've officially directed my first musical, Christmas was a grand affair, the holidays went by with only one or two minor tantrums (oddly enough not from the children...), I now am the safer new owner of two snow-tires on my car, Russia is often on my mind, and I'm trying a new church this Sunday!
Have a great day kids, & throw a snow-ball at someone!
I'm not really the type to make resolutions at the beginning of a New Year. The practice seems worn-out, overdone, cliche, and pointless--who remembers in September what they resolved to do in January? Some do, I'm sure, but I've never been the type who would remember. Besides, every new day, every new moment is a chance to begin again--so why wait till the beginning of a new year?
All the same, when I look back on 2010 I am very deeply disappointed in where I am at the beginning of 2011, and at where I'm not. The title of this post is oddly fitting, I get the feeling that I wasted much of 2010--truly wasted it, because it wasn't even enjoyed while it was being wasted.
2011 has begun, and I'm jobless, moneyless, and--if not for the blessings of cyberspace & the connections with out-of-state college pals!--friendless. I'm sitting here in Borders typing this post, and the temptation to wallow in loneliness is very acute. But I did enough of that in 2010 I think, and am resolved to do so no more.
So there are some things that have come about from this new beginning. I know it's a man-made marking of the passage of time, but I am human & live in the dimension of time so I mark its passage--deal with it. :P
When I look back at 2011 I want to be able to say that it was the best year of my life thus far. There's a lot that I'm going to need to do in order to effect such a happening, but so be it. May it never be said of me that I sat by & let life go on without me.
In other news, I've officially directed my first musical, Christmas was a grand affair, the holidays went by with only one or two minor tantrums (oddly enough not from the children...), I now am the safer new owner of two snow-tires on my car, Russia is often on my mind, and I'm trying a new church this Sunday!
Have a great day kids, & throw a snow-ball at someone!
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