Are You Onboard? November 7, 2009

I just discovered a great new artist, Eric Bibb. His style is a right-on mix of folk, blues, and gospel, without being boring, too roots-y, or too preachy. I came across his website by way of StumbleUpon, which is another newfound joy that may just deserve its own post later. So the first song I heard, which came up instantly on the website, was “New Beale Street Blues.” It was such a great introduction. It reminded me a little of New Orleans (even though I think it’s about Chicago…. or maybe Memphis).

Besides having a great style, his songs and the album I downloaded (and frankly, the only one I have listened to) are very smooth. Not in a lame “smooth jazz” kind of way, but in a way that flows extremely well. He has a beautiful voice and his guitar work compliments it perfectly.

iTunes categorizes Bibb as Blues, which I would say is correct. I was a little worried that he would be pegged as gospel or Christian, and I don’t think his style exemplifies that slant all the time. Even if this isn’t the sort of thing you’d normally check out, I would look him up on eMusic or just at his website.

I have downloaded “Get Onboard” and “Natural Light,” along with only 9 tracks of “A Ship Called Love,” because I ran out of credits at eMusic (and already bought a booster pack today for the first album. sigh), and I highly recommend all of them so far. I will say that “A Ship Called Love” seems to have a little weird drumwork… a sort of monotonous, Stevie-Wonder-esque new age-y-ness. But other than that, I am very much enjoying it all. Plus, all the song titles are great, and in my book that goes a long way.

Momentary Bitch. Please tune back in after these messages. November 7, 2009

You know those bad surprises? The ones you discover and then feel like you got punched in the stomach, maybe multiple times?

Yeah. Just experienced one of those–in conjunction with about 3 solid doses of irony.

I’m not going to mince words–I feel like shit. Haven’t started crying yet, but maybe that’s an even worse sign.

(In other news, I just typoed and wrote “song” instead of “sign.” So let’s move on to that.)

Talking shouldn’t be this complicated. November 5, 2009

Sometimes I forget I’m talking to people. Like, I finish talking to them and then realize that I wasn’t really talking to them like they’re real people; I’m talking to them like I’m in a video game and the sentence I have to say to them is my challenge. I feel like I cheat them out of my real thoughts, but I don’t know if they can tell.

I don’t remember which school of thought states that maybe there aren’t actually multiple people in the world–maybe there’s just me, and God (or some external force) puts other people and situations on earth just to test me and teach me. It’s an interesting-if a little narcissistic-idea.

It also helps me think of things more linearly … as in, it helps me be more diplomatic in my approach to people. I don’t worry so much about figuring out how to please each person individually, because they exist as a learning experience for me.

But then, one has to wonder, what if they think the same thing? What if I’m simply a learning experience for them? Clearly, then, life is not this existential illusion. But that, too, is a learning experience.

Put a smile in your voice. November 4, 2009

Have you ever seen someone looking around, arranged your face into a pleasant half-smile (just in case they look at you, you want to look friendly) and looked away, then looked back at them and they’re smiling because they saw your smile and it was contagious? It’s a really good feeling :) And it takes almost no energy at all–just a little presence of mind. Try it!

By the way, I have very little patience with myself when I hold off on blogging for the “right time” or until I have a good idea, or until I can elaborate on a thought. So I think I’m just going to treat it like it’s a Twitter account with a more lengthy character limit and write thoughts as they come up. Especially because most of the time I’m sitting in the most boring and annoying class in the world. Leave me comments!

The News That Matters November 4, 2009

“EMI and Apple Corps have announced they will be releasing a limited edition apple-shaped USB drive containing all 14 of the remastered Beatles albums as well as artwork, documentaries and other extras.

On 7 December, 30,000 of the drives will go on sale for £200 each.”

 

 

http://digg.com/d3196aj

Wizard Rock Festival in MO November 4, 2009

If you go to wizard rock festivals, you never know when shallow wizard rock may turn into something genuinely inspired. If you don’t go, you don’t even know if it’s possible. For that reason, I wish I was going to this weekend festival in Potosi, Missouri. I’d love to be there to support the Harry Potter nerdiness.

www.wrockstock.com

Insanely Short Untitled Poem #2 November 3, 2009

I don’t belieeeeeeve you.

Can you state it from a throne?

Would you take it into battle?

Would it make it on its own?

I don’t believe you.

Untitled Poem #1 November 3, 2009

I think this is the first original poem I’ve posted. I don’t really like writing poetry, and there’s very little poetry I actually appreciate (sorry, everyone)… so don’t go easy on it!

::::::::::::::

thread in, thread through.

needle in, heart through.

eyes open, staring round,

mind rough, full of sound.

soul search, listen up.

spoken word, shooting up.

say enough, sing away.

lead it on, catch a ray.

lips moving, ears racing.

final count, thoughts abating.

Mama said there wouldn’t be days like this. October 23, 2009

If you’re at Evergreen:

and a teacher says “fair effort,” something is wrong.

and a teacher says, “you’ll want to know this, if for no other reason than that it will be on the test.”

and a teacher says, “you can’t do that project; that’s not what we’re studying in this class” or “that’s not what we’re interested in.”

and you don’t feel creative

or you feel restricted

or you’re not sure where you’re going

or you don’t feel like you can talk to your faculty…

I say, GET OUT NOW. Problem is, that would be hypocritical, because I’m stuck in that situation and CAN’T get out. At least, not without dropping 12 credits, which is extremely problematic.

Some Goals October 19, 2009

1) Wrap up my old freelance writing job that has been hanging over my head. I can’t keep up with it, don’t want to, and it’s just making me feel guilty all the time.

2) Buy some food with which I can efficiently make meals and have leftovers for lunch the next day.

3) Start reading some stuff for fun.

4) Write reviews on here about what I’ve read.

5) Review music, like I’ve always said I would do.

6) GET OVER BEING HOMESICK ALL THE TIME.

7) Write write write. For fun. Submit an article to the newspaper (it shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, we ARE the newspaper.)

8) Make an appointment with my teacher to talk about her class, which I have recently come to despise.

9) Catch up on French. Pouvez-vous practiquer le francais avec moi?

10) Sleep.

11) Clean room.

12) Watch movies that enlighten and inform.

13) Light more candles.

14) Figure out what I want. What do I want? I know what I don’t want. Isn’t that helpful enough?

15) Call my poor grandmother who worries about me all the time.

16) Love love love.

One of Many Odes to a best friend. September 27, 2009

This is a manipulated song about just wanting to mean the world to that friend who means the world to you. You have a lot of history, but somehow those times seem to get lost or forgotten, and before long you start to fear you can’t remember what that bond was in the beginning. You want everyone to know all that you’ve shared. Wanting a soulmate is not selfish.

Hello, tell me you know. Yeah, you’ve figured me out? Something gave it away…
It would be such a beautiful moment to see the look on your face, to know that I know that you know now.

I guess that’s a case of my wishful thinking: You know nothing. You and I, we can carry on for hours on end. We get along much better than you and that person you’re interested in.

Well, all I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use.
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.

Well, how long can I go on like this, wishing to be your everything, before I rightly explode?
And this double life I lead isn’t healthy for me; in fact, it makes me nervous. If you find out, I could be risking it all… There’s a lot that I’d miss in case…

All I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use,
But I still cant say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me

If I should be so bold, I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand, and tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your friend. But I never said a word– I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again.

Well, all I really want to do is love you
The kind that the closest of friends use
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.

And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.

[Song thanks to Jason Mraz, of course. Speaking of soulmates...]

Friends in high and unlikely places September 22, 2009

So sometimes, I tend to get extremely overwhelmed by barbershop. Mostly, this is because i have no idea how to convey to people how much I love it and how much it means to me. Also, it seems a little strange that it’s so specific. Like, I could be just in love with singing in general, or by karaoke or something, but no, I have to be utterly obsessed with barbershop. It’s just weird.

However, in the barbershop community, it is completely normal. I challenge you to find someone in this organization who is just sort of so-so about barbershop. Someone who can say “eh, I can live with or without it. It’s just sort of a hobby.” No. That’s not the way it works. You may not be obsessed with it when you enter the org, but you sure as hell are after two months, if not after one visit.

So, here is my absolutely fantastic barbershop story for the day.

About a year ago, this woman in my chorus said something like, “oh, you’re going to Evergreen? You should look for this police officer who sings barbershop, Tom or Tim or something… I can’t remember his last name.” Of course I thought, “well, gee, isn’t that specific,” and I didn’t try too hard to find him. Plus, their uniforms just say their last names, so I didn’t have much to go on, and I didn’t want to go to Police Services and ask for some guy who sang barbershop. ha.

So today I was sitting at the Student Activities fair with my roommate. I was representing the CPJ and the Police Services booth was right next to ours. She pointed at the officer who was at that table, and said that she’s heard him sing at this drug and alcohol presentation thing she’d gone to, and that he was quite good. Then I heard the EIC and biz manager of the CPJ talking to him and calling him Tim.

Long story short, once everyone left, I said to him, “so, I hear you sing,” and he said, “yeah,” and I said, “do you sing barbershop, by any chance?”

He said, “Barbershop is my life.”

And with stars in my eyes, I’m sure, I said, “meee toooo!”

Thus began a long conversation during which we discovered that we know many of the same people, but it turns out that he’s actually WAYYYY high up in the organization and so is his wife, so he’s, like, friends with the lead of OC Times and stuff, and coaches by ex-director’s quartet and stuff.

MY GOD am I excited. I never want to talk to people at Evergreen about Sweet Adelines, because let’s face it, it’s just weird. Sequins and energetic faces? Definitely not Evergreen-ish. So I cannot tell you how amazing it is to have this resource and be familiar with this guy. Unfortunately, it’s led to a bit of a stalking tangent on my part, so I found this video of his quartet (two of the members are former Kings, which means that they have won International before. Five times, in fact. SO amazing). Enjoy :)

… and I just read back over that post, and it’s awful. I think the more excited I get about something, the less articulate I am. So, I’m sorry about that. But I’m not going to change it because you all deserve to see my blunders.

A poem by Rumi: “An Awkward Comparison” September 19, 2009

[The formatting doesn't hold. I'll try to figure that out later. Also, I chose it randomly from a book of Rumi's poems that I have. I might decode it later in another post. Enjoy]

———-

“An Awkward Comparison”

This physical world has no two things alike.

Every comparison is awkwardly rough.

You can put a lion next to a man,

but the placing is hazardous to both.

Say the body is like this lamp.

It has to have a wick and oil. Sleep and food.

If it doesn’t get those, it will die,

and it’s always burning those up, trying to die.

But where is the sun in this comparison?

It rises, and the lamp’s light

mixes with the day.

Oneness,

which is the reality, cannot be understood

with lamp and sun images. The blurring

of a plural into a unity is wrong.

No image can describe

what of our fathers and mothers,

our grandfathers and grandmothers, remains.

Language does not touch the one

who lives in each of us.

There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,

as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts

from books and from what the teacher says,

collecting information from the traditional sciences

as well as from the new sciences.

With such intelligence you rise in the world.

You get ranked ahead or behind others

in regard to your competence in retaining

information. You stroll with this intelligence

in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more

marks on your preserving tablets.

There is another kind of tablet, one

already completed and preserved inside you.

A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness

in the center of the chest. This other intelligence

does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid,

and it doesn’t move from outside to inside

through the conduits of plumbing-learning.

This second knowing is a fountainhead

from within you, moving out.

The past can be the future. Why go back? September 18, 2009

Introducing the first thing I have posted on my wall (REAL wall, that is–NOT Facebook) since I have moved into my apartment:

The very first issue of the Cooper Point Journal (CPJ), the paper for which I am the print managing editor (there is a web managing editor for, obviously, the web edition). The CPJ is a weekly publication put out by the CPJ student group, but more broadly, it is a paper by and for the students, which is most important. The CPJ accepts any type of content from anyone enrolled as a student at the Evergreen State College, which is very cool. We have two advisors, but they don’t have any say over what goes in the paper (nor does any other faculty member). The student group is comprised entirely of students who put out the web and print publication, as well as students to manage and maintain the business side of things. We only receive a certain amount of funding from the Student Activities department of the school, and the student activities funds come directly from students through tuition, so the paper is quite literally BY the students, in all senses. Students in positions of responsibility receive a learning allotment most weeks of the quarter, which enables them to spend the time that they do at the CPJ.

The CPJ is not a “job,” and we do not get “paid.” We don’t even “work.” We have responsibilities, and are held accountable for those responsibilities by the mere fact that we are members of the organization. We don’t need to know a certain amount before coming into a position at the CPJ (seriously, I am a managing editor after only 3 years of being involved in journalism of any sort; that tells you something), but we are encouraged to learn while we’re at the CPJ–hence the designation of the CPJ being a “learning laboratory.”

Anyway, as my position indicates, I am responsible for the print edition of the paper, which is weekly. The first paper came off the presses today, and I got to watch it happen. I was given a copy right then and there, with that picture on the cover that I took and the cover design that I did. I was (and am) so proud of that thing.

So… why do I feel guilty? The thing about the CPJ is that, since we don’t “work,” we don’t have hours, so technically we are at liberty to leave whenever we want. But since we are responsible and accountable for certain tasks, they should be priority. Plus, there is always the chance that more may come up, or tasks may be delegated, and there is the real looming responsibility of the actual publication. So “leadership” (the business manager, associate business manager, editor in chief, associate editor, web managing editor, and print managing editor) are usually under the impression that other members will be (or should be) as dedicated to producing the overall result as we are. Well, frankly, sometimes they just aren’t.

That should be fine with us. I mean, technically their position has certain responsibilities assigned to it, and if they take care of those they are free to lead a life. The problem is that we get so caught up in what has to be done, and usually we are so short-staffed, that we feel the need to delegate tasks to these people that somehow have gotten done with their section early.

…Ok, I’m tired of explaining this, so the short version is that there is A TON of guilt-tripping in the CPJ. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I felt the guilt pressure almost all of last year in my various positions, as well as this past summer when I was at home having a normal life when everyone else was at the office having responsibilities in which I was expected to take part or share.

So though I never told anyone when I came back this year, my ultimate goal is to never guilt trip someone. If someone is done and says something like “…so…I think I’ll head out now,” I can respond with no more than, “all right. If you find you have more time, let us know if you’re free and we can give you something to do.” That’s it. Because I am so fed up with these people being presented with that situation of someone wanting to leave and saying, “well… ok… it would be great if you could stay a while longer, because there’s a lot left to do…”

What BS. Suck it up and do some work yourself. Last night was production night, and I felt like I did a ton because we were short-staffed and people left. And I was fine with it. I am at the CPJ because I have an extreme passion for journalism. And I want that passion to show through my drive and motivation to put out a quality paper without too much perfectionism. Actually, I can’t imagine what it would be like if we had a full staff. What would I do?!

Our advisor once said, when we were anticipating the switch to our primarily online medium, that “Jo can put out a print paper by herself. So what you guys need to focus on is the website.” And, though that probably wouldn’t be something I’d prefer in the heat of the moment, it sounds a little daringly awesome.

It won’t happen. The CPJ is a students’ paper, not a student’s paper. [If you don't understand that line, please leave this blog. Now.]

And I don’t want it to happen. I am so caught up in the awesomeness of the ‘voice of the students thing’ that I never want to give that up. Why would a publication function any differently?

It seems like every time I find something new about Evergreen, I react to it like I did when I got my Mac: Why would ever go back to how it/I was before? In fact, that happens with many facets of my life.

Why would I ever go back to a school that gave grades and pushed a competitive learning environment?

Why would I ever go back to a life without barbershop music?

Why would I ever go back to being involved in a newspaper that wasn’t by and for the people?

It’s so important. I realized this when the EIC was working on launching the website today. Before, I had been rather caught up in how the site would look, and how it would function, blah blah blah, just so that people would want to look at it and come back to it and become a member of the site, etc. But now, I want it to look very rustic and work-in-progress-like, so that people will instead come up to us and say something like, “btw, that website of yours… uh… sucks.” Then, I will be able to tell them [quite honestly, mind you], “I’m so glad you think so! We would love to have your expertise, or at least some input about it!”

Does that sound dorky? Because I think it sounds really exciting.

[Something]’s Gonna Change My World September 11, 2009

I have about ten saved drafts of other posts I’ve started over the past couple weeks… but on this day, I feel more like starting anew.

You know how they tell you in high school that once you get into “the real world, then blah blah blah”? I never knew whether the Real World started after college, or before, or during, or at the moment of graduation from high school, or right when you became financially independent, or what. Who knows whether any of us are in the Real World at all. (I know that statement is a little too Matrix-y, but whether it’s a metaphor or not, sometimes there IS a world (or many other worlds) out there to which we are blind or deaf).

Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the world in my head. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in a fantasy world created by the media. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the Real World.

This is what the real world is like: In college, they don’t hold a moment of silence for the lives lost during 9/11/01. I remember in middle and high school (gawd, I’m old) when we would stand with bowed heads, and I’m sure it happens still. But I’m not in an environment where that’s done, and I don’t know why. It’s not that I want that moment of silence…

I think I just want to comprehend the suffering of others. Or maybe I don’t, but I feel like I should. For instance, I have a friend who is in Ghana right now (her blog is at http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/. She updates often and her insight is really great–check it out). She’s sort of a participant observer in the third world/developing country scheme there, and she witnesses first hand the conditions in which the natives live.

It seems like things like that are really valued in our society, because we like to think we’re pretty privileged (when it’s put in perspective). On the other hand, being able to step back and have an honest, solid empathy for those who are suffering is “good.” When Hurricane Katrina happened, the rest of the United States felt sympathetic toward the victims and their loss.

When 9/11 happened, people all over the United States empathized and mourned (partly because it was a threat to everyone, not just those in NYC and the Pentagon).

But what if I can’t comprehend that?

I end up feeling completely heartless simply because I don’t understand suffering. I know what it is, of course, and I’ve experienced a tiny bit myself on a very small scale, but I just haven’t been able to look at suffering in terms of feelings. In other words, I can listen to specific stories of people’s losses around 9/11 and genuinely feel bad for them, but I can’t share their sorrow.

I look at Katrina as a mass loss of homes, pets, belongings, finances, loved ones… but not as a loss of hope or a loss of esteem.

I look at 9/11 as a mass loss of lives and loss of assets (buildings, money). I know it is symbolic, but I have some sort of emotional block from knowing what that really means for our country and for the people more directly affected by the attack.

And I won’t lie; I feel quite awful about all of this. It’s not like I’m apathetic toward everything. It’s just that I guess I have no way of translating that sorrow, so far removed from me, to something closer to home.

But how important is it, to share that burden of sorrow? I feel like it’s a duty for me as an American citizen to feel personally hurt and scared by the events of 9/11. I don’t. But is that something around which the United States really needs to rally?! Do we really need to take on some more pain, and remember it every year?

I may not be very adept [yet?] at feeling empathetic toward others’ pain, but I can sure as hell share their joy.

Heidi, my friend in Ghana, said that she witnessed a funeral procession in one Ghanian village where one of the elderly men in the town had just died. She says, “It was strange to see the way they celebrated the life of the 85-year-old man who had died instead of mourning the fact that he was gone. Even the signs posted around town announced the ‘Celebration of Life,’ not the ‘Funeral ‘or ‘Ceremony.’” (http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/2009/09/830-first-little-big-adventure.html).

I think joy is more universal than sorrow. Even with all the famine, disease, poverty, and other misfortunes ailing many parts of the world, those trials only make small things easier to appreciate, therefore creating more joy. Why don’t we rally around hope? Didn’t Barack Obama’s campaign prove that hope is a much more effective tool?

For a while, I remember plans being laid for an “uplifting” memorial to 9/11 at Ground Zero. While I do think it’s important to keep such an event in our history, I remember a line from one of my favorite movies saying something like, “the best way to forget something is by commemorating it.” Are we afraid of seeming heartless if we just move on? Are we not saving the victims still suffering from the effects of the attacks from enduring further strife?

In a way, it’s not so bad to not comprehend suffering. In fact, I think it’s pretty normal. I think confusion is a more natural and positive response than anger and hatred (but that’s not saying much).

How long did the people who started blaming others for the attacks stop to ruminate on what had actually happened? Life should not be a grand “whodunnit?” setup. Some things are mysteries, including the human brain, heart, and soul, as well as their feelings and functions.

I am not saying that we wouldn’t need to find out who was responsible for something like 9/11. I’m also not saying that anger is not part of the grieving process (i.e., anger IS part of the grieving process). But what do we need to do (personally and on a larger scale) to ensure that compassion is ALSO part of the process, enough to the point where we realize that anger and hatred are only bred from not understanding. We don’t understand death; it has always been mysterious. But we also know that to every time, there is a season. In the heat of the moment, it’s impossible to recognize something like that. I just wonder when blame has solved a problem, and whether it’s reliable enough to keep trying.

Though I may live in a bubble, and only venture into the Real World occasionally, my bubble does facilitate some self reflection. If I’m honest with myself in admitting that I don’t understand suffering and I don’t understand death, I can also realize that I share more common ground with people in joy than in sorrow. Rather than using ignorance in a way that is harmful to myself and others, I would like to exploit the similarity of joy, and breed compassion, hope, and love. Love can penetrate any personal bubble.

“Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the universe.” -The Beatles.

That Old Feeling. September 8, 2009

You know how people always say that the most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, but for some reason you just can’t?

Well, I disagree.

The most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, and being completely willing and able to do so, but too busy to actually let yourself cry.

Some would just “get it over with,” but that’s impossible when you know it could last for at least a good half hour (and that’s a LOT of time essentially wasted when you have a ton to do), plus it will give you a raging headache/migraine afterwards, which will be a complete handicap when it comes to getting things done. At the same time, all the thoughts that made you feel like crying in the first place buzz around your head while you’re trying to accomplish things, and that’s pretty much all you can think about.

Is this too depressing? I’m trying to keep it real. I mean, I think most people have had this experience. Am I right? Can I hear an amen?

Progress for Progress’ Sake September 8, 2009

This is from almost a week ago, yikes.

By day two, not only have I unpacked almost everything except my clothes (which, really, I should have unpacked first), but I have also had company over. And not just my dad! My friend Emily (from Oly, not Cd’A) came over with her sister, and then a former floormate, Ian, dropped by. He had other motives, however; he was convinced that a menage a trois was going to take place.

Anyway, I cooked rice in one of the AMAZING pots Haley got (I doubt she knows just how great they are, since she never cooks, but maybe this year she’ll start) and besides that, all I could offer was apple juice and milk… But it was so fun! I definitely want to do that more, as well as having potlucks and just general cooking parties. We could make sushi one day, except that Haley hates sushi…

By the way, I’m not sure I added this in my last post, but I have a few tips on moving (now that I’m just such a seasoned pro, ha ha).

1. This is passed down from at least my grandmother, and it may go back farther. When everything is in your new place, the absolute first thing you should do is locate your sheets and make your bed. It sounds odd, but it means that when the day ends and you’re positively exhausted, you won’t have to do one more thing before you crawl into bed. Nice, huh?

2. I maintain that if you keep things clean from the beginning, it will be easier to do it later on, because you know what clean looks like. In the coming months days, we’ll see if this is true.

3. On your first or second day, scope out a walking path or trail around your house, or a route that you’ll be motivated to follow. Then, when you don’t want to leave the house, get outside, and walk somewhere, you won’t have the excuse, “well, I don’t know where to go!”

…That’s all I have so far. Anyone want to suggest some more?

Room With A View September 1, 2009

Today I moved into my own apartment. It is an epic day and one which will live in infamy.

It’s not exactly mine; my roommate moves in in two weeks. But for now, it’s all mine…

And it is the most glorious feeling in the world.

The things from my storage space came in, the things from home came in, we went shopping (and among the first things I bought, of course, was butter. Just like Julia Child had suggested!), the groceries came in, the dogs came in (my dad was helping me move, and he brought the dogs from home, YAY!), and I came in.

I don’t know why it’s so good, or how to explain it, but it’s just the best thing ever. I’m pretty sure I felt very similar to this when I moved into my dorm, but not exactly. This is completely different. I have bills to pay, mouths to feed (well, not really… just mine), and it’s amazing.

Like every apartment, it has its drawbacks, but for the most part, it is perfect, right down to the chipped molding and weird drawer system. I have a walk-in closet, my own bathroom, and at least as much room as I had in my bedroom at home.

As I’m writing this, cars are speeding by on the road that lies RIGHT next to our building, but it’s all good. Actually, even that is quite amazing. I live next to a ROAD!!!!

I’ll continue to update “you” about how this is all working. So far, I moved everything into the kitchen first, just because I was so excited that I HAD one.

The things I need to buy:

Tupperware, a set of knives, a standing light (because there’s no overhead light in my room), some more groceries, a shower curtain, and probably some more hangers.

Does anyone know a cheap place to look for these things? Especially the knives and shower curtain. The other things can come from Goodwill or Safeway or Costco. I’m thinking Ikea for the lamp thing…

Going to bed now, to rest for a full day of journalism training tomorrow. Wild Life!!!

Trees and Post Offices August 30, 2009

OK, so just to prove that I really *did* have something to say this whole time, I’m posting this, which I wrote between Colorado and New Mexico. Enjoy!

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It was as if vertical didn’t exist. The whole landscape consisted of horizontal levels of different elements: a straight, flat road, flat sagebrush land, and in the distance, a layer of blue or brown depending on the direction. These were mountains, but you couldn’t tell they were mountains because the clouds hung so low.

It was as if we were in an orb; the clouds seemed high enough above us, but on the horizon they sunk lower and lower, and land might not have even existed beyond them.

We had left the land of color, and it was becoming obvious that we might not see much color for a while, especially if the clouds didn’t lift

I’ve never seen the clouds so low. If I stood on top of the car, I might even be able to touch them. Full and dark and reducing to wisps the lower they got, but remaining ominous. Yellow daisies lined the road, and the sky seemed to be blue beyond the clouds, but it was quickly dimming as the sun went down.

A few children were crouching at the horizon, holding paper cutouts of clouds at different heights in the sky. As we moved, they became two dimensional and looked like individual pieces of gray instead of an indistinguishable colorless blue.

Every once in a while, things would become a little more green or blue or yellow, but most of the time they were steadily getting less colored. Mom would point and say, “treeee!” and I would point at a truck with straw flying off of it and say, “hay!” because that’s what she used to do with me. And whenever we saw a sign, mom would read it. Just in case I hadn’t seen it, even though writing would be hard to miss in this area.

The time of day would be best described as twilight, which is a little sad to admit. The moon was a little sliver to our left, against a background of, if you have your crayon set handy, a very light sky blue crossed with cerulean.

“Post office,” mom said as we passed that sign and rolled into a sad little town that was mostly boarded up and had one flashing yellow light, just like in Radiator Springs, from Cars.

La-la-la-la-lovely August 15, 2009

I just finished making a batch of delectable wheat-free almond spice cookies. They’re positively amazing, not to brag or anything. They’re better than any of the wheat-free cookies I’ve ever had, and better than any of the cookies I’ve had made with rice flour, which is very heavy and leaves a questionable aftertaste. I found the recipe in one of my mom’s Yoga Journals and made them with millet flour, tapioca flour, and potato flour starch, along with many spices and sugar and yumminess.

Turns out, they’re not as good the next day. But I remain impressed with myself that I actually got off my ass and made something that I’m proud of. yay me!

I’ve been so extremely lazy lately. I’m housesitting and don’t have internet at the house, so all I can do is walk the dog and play with her, read, and watch tv, and I can write articles if I happen to get an assignment.

Ew. I’m sitting in a coffee shop and all these people are around me with whom I went to school for various years are talking and they’re loud and sigggghhhhhhh. I’m pretty sure they all go to U of I now. And this girl is dressed like she’s a freshman in high school, yet she just announced that she’s “technically a junior” in college. She dropped one of her majors and moved up, apparently. I am SO glad I don’t have to worry about all that crap. People give me funny looks when I tell them I don’t have majors or grades or anything, but it is a complete blessing.

You know that science class you took in high school, with that science teacher you didn’t particularly care for, in which you had to memorize all those chemicals and then get tested on them, where you have to pass in order to receive a very meaningless letter grade that is your ticket to the next dull, tedious class that you may or may not have any interest in? And then, to your horror, it continues in college! College, where you are supposed to be able to choose whichever classes you like, and you are guaranteed to like them since they fit your major! But noooo, you have to go through more and more meaninglessness with those stupid required classes that may or may not have anything to do with your desired path of study and subsequent career, but you are assured that “at some point” they will be relevant, just like many teachers in high school told you that “one day” that math would come in handy. ha.

I love my school.

Look it up. August 5, 2009

Ok, yes, I’ve been away. And the next week isn’t going to be any better. But in the meantime, FIND THIS SONG. I think it’s a cover of a Johnny Cash song and (curse my hypocrisy) I haven’t heard the original, but this one is sooo crazy awesome. It might just be based on the Cash song, because it’s quite similar, but very different. ha.

I found it. It’s by Moby and it’s called “Afterlife,” though Cash’s version was called “God’ll Cut You Down.” Doesn’t sound too uplifting, but WOW. Look it up.

*****CORRECTION*****

The song is “Run On For A Long Time,” and it was originally done by the Blind Boys of Alabama. I’m pretty sure the group that covers it is Bill Landford and the Landfordaires. I must say, though, that the lyrics are extremely similar to the ones in the Johnny Cash song. Maybe Johnny Cash changed some words, made it more monotonous, and retitled it. ha.

Abruptishnessment July 30, 2009

Nearly all of my books on spirituality (especially Eastern philosophy and spirituality) have orange on their covers. Bear with me while I decode that…

Sorry for the obnoxiously short post; I’m barely at home before leaving to the cabin again :) Have an excellent day!

It’s all better July 29, 2009

I don’t like to advertise things, because it makes me sound like a scammer/spammer/spatter. (“Spatter” is the name I came up with for someone who has a spam Twitter account. I’m oh-so-clever.)

However, there are some exceptions. And it is this: Better A Cappella.

Ahhhhmazing. And also very inspiring. I’ve been interested in the idea of creating a college a cappella group, because nearly every college has one now, except ours. And almost all of my friends can sing very well (I swear it just magically happened that way) and would be willing to participate in and organize such a group. But part of the problem is the money. Now that I know there’s a site like this…

Seriously, I sound like such a spammer. But I’m not! I’m just really excited :) The best part is where they got the idea for their name! It’s on their site ;)

Anyway, leaving now for the cabin. shweeeet!

The Reason I Go to Chorus July 28, 2009

“This,” the director said, snatching a chorus member’s papers, “is not music.” He threw it on the floor. “Music exists only in this immediate moment.”

I smiled in understanding, but I don’t think he saw me. And the evening went on.

(*)*(*)*(*)

A cappella singing is like no other, and barbershop is a special branch that I hold dear. The four parts, from lowest to highest, are bass, baritone, lead, and tenor. The lead part has the melody of the song, and the three other parts are harmony (bass usually as a vocal rhythm, baritone weaving around the melody, and tenor trilling at the top). I usually sing tenor, but one chorus needed basses and I had the ability, so that’s what I sang—and I’m a better tenor for it. It takes so much to be able to produce chords in these choruses. Fundamentally, everyone must be on pitch, but the actual correct singing requires much more: First, one must breathe deeply and in the right place (into the base of the lungs, without raising the shoulders). Next, one must create proper vowel shape with the mouth (there are actually many different ways to say the “oh” sound, for instance) and make sure it matches the other singers’ mouth shape. The singer also has to use “resonation chambers” in the body. It’s like we’re cathedrals, and if you want the best sound you have to sing in the stone hall instead of in the bathroom; you have to sing into the sinus cavities and as if the crown of your head is the Tacoma Dome.

After you create the right note by achieving all that (constantly, and while keeping correct posture and foot position, remembering notes, words, and maybe even choreography, and smiling), your part relies on the others to do the same so that the whole chord may “lock.” Even if every person is technically hitting the right note, the chord may not lock—they must also be doing everything to be actually singing correctly. Then, even if the chord has locked, it may not ring (but that’s unusual).

It may seem too hit-and-miss to even bother trying. But when a chord rings, and when you’re able to hear it while singing rather than just knowing it because of the pleased director, it’s the most rewarding feeling in the world. Ringing chords creates overtones, which are notes above the chord that no one is actually singing. They’re clearly audible—it’s not just a mind trick—but also surreal, because for all the work it took to produce the actual chord, no one singer is creating the overtone. It takes the entire group, and those overtones are what we always strive for. When we don’t have an actual audience, the overtones are like the heavens’ applause.

[This is a very short excerpt from the final paper I wrote for my class in our last quarter. As with all the content on my blog, please do not reproduce it in any way, except perhaps with proper citation :) If you ask me, I'd probably be happy to give my permission!]

Like She Was a Guitar: A Review of Tom Felton’s EP July 27, 2009

This is a complete, comprehensive review of Tom Felton’s EP, In Good Hands. All 6 tracks of it. It’s not one of the ones by Feltbeats, just the one Tom Felton released on March 10, 2009.

To see where you can obtain a copy of any of Tom’s works, see the post below this one, “Re: Tom Felton: Where to Find…”

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Tom Felton's EP: "In Good Hands"

At Face Value: There is nothing missing from the cover of this album, except perhaps color. But who needs it? You can’t really tell whether it’s water or grass in the background, but it looks very fluid. I think that’s what counts, picturesquely speaking. You get Tom’s guitar, his signature baggy sweatshirt, the sturdy tree, and the dangling leaves in the foreground. And then there’s something metal, like a tool or something, in the tree. Don’t quite know what it is, but it looks very rustic. It’s like you’re catching Tom on a typical day, except that we all know that Tom, on “a typical day” is surrounded by Potter pals.

Track 1 “If You Could Be Anywhere”: I love the way this song starts. It almost sets you up for something different; that first bar of music sort of asks a question, perhaps “where would you be?” What follows is energetic strumming and a not-so-intricate picking style that comes in a bit late at times, cluing fans in to the fact that really, he’s just having fun. At least for now. I’m going to pass over the incorrect grammar of “where would I fly to?” and move right on to… who is that lady in the waiting room? The strangest part of this song is the sort of sighing in the background. At some places it’s pretty clear that it’s a supplemental sort of harmony part, but at others it just sounds… maybe like a mimicry of Tom’s biggest fangirls? and who is that lady in the street? My favorite part of this song comes at the very end, with the harmonica–simply superb.

Track 2 “We Belong”: I’ll be honest: at first I thought it was going to be a cover of the Pat Benetar song. It’s not, of course. That said, there’s not much I can say about this song. It’s a pretty sweet love song. I think the drums are a little much at times, and again, the sighing background vocals are distracting. I like the lyric “we belong in the sands of the sky” the best in this song. Perhaps it’s just because I’m a cynic, but the song gets a little too sappy about halfway through. If I thought it was actually a parody of itself, like Jason Mraz might produce, I might stomach it a bit better. And indeed, the “you are the reason why…” bridge is reminiscent of some of Mraz’s work. “You are the reason why I won’t be sleeping tonight” is amusing… and it just gets a little too sweet after that. Also, he references his own song, which is a technique I’m not too thrilled about. Still, it’s a song that fangirls will like to listen to and pretend he’s singing to them, I’m sure.

Track 3 “When Angels Come”: Like the emphasis on the upbeat at the beginning, and also the slight falsetto throughout the song. Unfortunately, I have the same complaint with this song as the last one. “Makeup was designed for other girls to try and look like you.” Really, Tom? I have to wonder if he’s even talking about his current girlfriend, because really, who is she trying to look like with all that makeup? But I digress… I do like that he actually warns us that he’s not going to leave anything out about what he likes about this girl– “my words no longer cautious.” At first I also liked the idea that he was incorporating angels… but then it’s only to compare them to this girl, and it turns out that his girlfriend wins. And not to go completely Jesus-freak on everyone, but is that really realistic?

Track 4 “Convinced”: Ok, I have to reveal a pet peeve here: beginning a song with “and” or “cuz.” In all of Felton’s work (including his 3 other EPs under Feltbeats) he only does it about 3 or 4 times, but for some reason it made a big impression on me. So, barring that, this is one of my favorite songs on the EP. It’s actually quite hilarious. He has “makes you want to vomit” rhyming with “change the channel, nothing’s on it,” and for some reason those lines make me laugh every time I hear them. However, the line after that, which I believe is “it’s all ri-i-ight,” is exactly the same as “I’m yo-o-ours” from Jason Mraz. Catchy, but already used, Mr. Felton. (I know I’m picky, but “I’m Yours” was a huge hit everywhere, and this EP came out at least a year after “I’m Yours,” so he might have switched it up a bit…) I’m a little biased toward songs about honest girls, and this one is no different. I like the idea that “she’s as honest as can be; that’s why I’m convinced when she says she loves me.” I like the faded out guitar part.

Track 5 “Father of Mine”: [*Ahem*, bear with me here.] I like the opening guitar part. It sets the song up very well, and is extremely different from the other songs on the album. And after that… well, after that comes what I think is supposed to be a very touching song about divorced parents. First of all, I (fortunately) cannot relate to this subject at all. But I must give Tom kudos for singing about such a difficult subject and bearing his heart. Seriously, that takes guts, especially for someone who is known for his role as a “tough-guy.” As a singer, I can’t help noticing that I’m pretty sure he’s flat in a couple of lines, and I almost can’t tolerate the “father of mah-hiiine” whine. I guess in general, it’s just a little too specific. Its tone is a little too sad and it doesn’t make up for it with any biting cynicism or sarcasm or making fun of itself. I won’t lie: it makes me uncomfortable, for more reasons than one: My final issue with this song… it reminds me of Lucius Malfoy. Someone could write a parody of it and insert “Dark Lord” every time Tom said “divorce,” and poor Draco would easily be singing about his father. Please, Tom, put that on YouTube and make this song worthwhile!

Track 6 “If That’s All Right With You”: This EP goes out with a bang. This is my favorite track by Tom Felton, out of all of his EPs, and it gives me happy vibes every time I hear it. I love that it starts out with a kind of docile sound, with just quiet voice and guitar, and then it builds with a bit of drums, the vocal gets louder, and more drums, and he…! I really don’t want to give it away. It’s a bit surprising, considering every other song Tom performs. I love that it’s a bit rowdy, but with this underlying timidity: “I’ll kiss you on the lips… but only if that’s alright with you.” And, ok… if I was the girl Tom was singing to, I’d rather hear this than hear that he would tell all the angels that I was prettier than they are. The other best part about this song is the line “I’d hold you in my arms like you was a guitar.”

And just like that, just like the actual CD itself, the music comes full circle. On the album cover? Yes, Tom holds his girls like they’re guitars and he holds his guitars like they’re girls. And whichever he happens to be holding at the time, she’s in good hands.

re: Tom Felton: Where to Find… July 26, 2009

Ok, I’m a little dense, and I just needed to put this up for clarification RE: Tom Felton’s music/Feltbeats:

Tom Felton has released an EP under his own name, In Good Hands, which is the one on Amazon that I linked to. However, Feltbeats has three other albums (though one of those is only a single). They are:

Time Well Spent

All I Need

Silhouettes in Sunsets (single)

These are all available at iTunes and Amazon, as well as at eMusic, which is a fantastic source that I really prefer (it’s cheaper, plus there are fantastic free downloads sometimes).

Please, my one request is that you don’t try to find these tracks on LimeWire. We all know that it’s not like it would hurt Tom financially if no one paid for them, but the Feltbeats EPs from eMusic (or Tom’s solo one, In Good Hands, from Amazon) are already cheaper than the typical $.99 downloads anyway. Plus, if he’s really serious about wanting to study music and continue a musical career after HP, then we should be supportive of that, right? :P

And just so you know, I have downloaded them all from eMusic, and all the songs are as fantastic as the YouTube vids :) Well, maybe not quite as fantastic, because you can’t see him, but still… And “If You Could Be Anywhere” is longer then the YouTube version and it’s amazing! But now that I’m listening to the full album, I think I’m going to have to review the whole thing! Coming soon…

Also, I really do promise to review Half-Blood Prince. soon.

boy with a penny July 25, 2009

Almost epic fail of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month, like NaNoWriMo–National Novel Writing Month–but you just have to post every day for a month).

Anyway, Saturdays were/are fiction day, so this is a short piece of fiction I’ve written. Please with all content of this blog, be respectful and do not copy or reproduce it in any way (or without proper citation)! Thank you kindly.

(*)*(*)*(*)

boy with a penny

The boy walked with purpose on the hot pavement, just to make sure even the birds thought he was going somewhere. He clutched his shiny penny in his fist, debating whether to put it in his pocket. If his pocket had a hole in it, the penny would be lost forever… but if he tripped, the penny might fall out of his hand.

He didn’t yet have a reason to distrust most people, but he wanted to pretend he did. If he pretended, it gave more purpose to his walk and more meaning to his penny. And it didn’t have to mean much, but why not pretend about that, also? He walked with even more purpose, with the determination of someone who had something to protect.

The penny dug into his palm, but he liked it. He clenched harder, and it hurt a bit. The boy smiled wryly, thinking that even if he did lose the penny, he would have proof that he had it once. What he needed was a scar, something that didn’t fade. Anyone who cared could look at the scar on his palm and see that, yes, the penny had been there. And it had been important.

A dog barked at him as he passed a yard crowded with someone’s possessions. The boy started, cringing when he saw the yard. Children’s toys were scattered everywhere and there was a line of empty flower pots of various sizes and shapes, perhaps waiting to be filled. The boy’s nose wrinkled at the disarray and neglect, and he made to walk more quickly, but music was drifting from an open window. He looked toward it, barely recognizing traditional negro music. As someone who didn’t listen to music on his own, he didn’t know how he could tell the band had a typical New Orleans jazzy sound, but somehow he recognized it. They played with a washboard and probably a homemade bass—it was live inside the house.

His gaze concentrated on the darkened window. Inside the house, he could just see outlines of dark faces and white teeth inside open, smiling mouths. A sitting man, a standing man, a standing woman closest to the window whose young profile he could see most clearly, and one or two more female voices.

He just had time to think that it was so odd, that these people were playing music in their own home, not for an audience that might pay to come see them, not even for people walking past who might deposit money in a jar (or maybe that’s what the flower pots were for), and that they weren’t just listening to music while they cooked or worked (or maybe cleaned their yard), when the music stopped. The music stopped, but the voices continued.

They rose and rose, and the boy could have sworn that there were ten pitches at a time, when there could only have been five voices at most, and then one of the voices sounded like it was crying, but another one must surely have been laughing.

And then he was sure someone was laughing, because he saw her—the young woman next to the window was turned toward him, and everything up to her eyes showed that she was amused, whether at the fact that he was probably standing and gawking stupidly, at the fact that her dog had barked at him a few more times and he hadn’t noticed, at the fact that he had slowly realized he’d been spotted, or at him losing his footing as he came to his senses and tried to stumble away, dropping something that glinted in the sun before it hit the sidewalk and bounced through the chain link fence into the dirt of the yard.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The boy dropped to his knees immediately, reaching under the fence to grapple in the dirt. The dog, who did not seem to be as menacing as his bark, sat down to watch the boy’s struggle.

The creak of the screen door to the house fell on deaf ears, but the black girl’s approaching steps caught the boy’s attention. He vaguely wondered what she was doing as his fingernails dug for the penny. Does she think she can to talk to me? Does she actually think I would respond?

The girl came closer. She was no longer laughing, but the boy didn’t look to see her face. It was traumatizing enough to be kneeling on the ground as she was walking to him; he didn’t need to give her his attention. Especially after he’d paid so much attention before, when she was singing.

She was too close now, still walking, but slowly, at a distance where it would have been awkward to speak, but even more awkward to stay silent. Just when the boy was sure she was going to say something, a finger scraped something hard and flat.

The dog got up to examine it as well, but the boy was too fast. His fingers caught the penny with a fistful of dirt, and he was gone, running quickly but in such a way as to keep his pride.

He couldn’t keep as much dignity when he realized he was lost. But he still had his penny. He looked at it as he slowed in an alley, and was dismayed to see that it was significantly dirtier and more scratched.

If I Could Be Anywhere… July 24, 2009

I brought it to my attention today (since there’s no one else out there to do it) that I haven’t been writing about music enough. Well, that’s because I haven’t been listening to very substantial amounts of new music. New singles from people I’ve never heard before every now and then, but not full albums.

However, I have been doing some YouTube touring, and call it cheesy… but I found something worth reviewing:

A channel belonging to Tom Felton (who plays Draco Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies, of course). It’s titled “FeltBeats” for his band, or just his production name, or something like that. He only has 4 videos, but he has an EP that is available on Amazon. And get this… he’s actually quite amazing. Not just saying that because he’s the most well-dressed character in the latest “Harry Potter.” He’s actually quite a good singer, as well as an adequate guitar player (not that I know how to judge guitar playing, but); I thought his playing accompanied his voice and lyrics very nicely. His words were heartfelt and charming; from the 4 songs on YouTube, I didn’t think they were particularly clever, but for debut work? It’s something special.

It’s even more fantastic that he’s seriously considering pursuing a career in/an education in music. It’s not hard to tell that he could easily have a following and new life as a musician, and I think he would also have a good presence as a performer and entertainer. He definitely has the acting background for it, and he has shown comfortability with a camera and in front of audiences, on YouTube and in press conferences and the like.

In case you haven’t checked out the link of Felton performing yet, I’ll debrief you:

The videos begin like many amateurs’ do; you see someone’s arm retreating from the webcam button. The first thing I noticed was the sepia coloring, which I think is a unique touch. Then, the scene [probably Felton's bedroom (ooh)] is revealed, and we see he’s lucky enough to actually have some pretty good equipment… microphones, a couple guitars in the background in addition to the one in his hands… He wears his signature polo or striped shirt/sweatshirt and a smile.

Yes, the sound and picture are a little mismatched in a couple of the videos, but one hardly notices because Felton’s confident-yet-bashful grin would tell anyone that he just.doesn’t.care. He knows when he makes mistakes, but he doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s a testament to his character that he puts these videos up, daring fans to disown him for a few chord errors or the times he almost forgets to sing. Of course, his fans would never do such a thing. If anything, they grow more and more in love with Tom with each amused “oops” smile on his lips.

“If you could be anywhere” would definitely be his single, if he ever released one. he has edited the video and overdubbed himself, so he’s strumming in one layer, picking in one layer, and singing melody in a couple layers (I don’t think he harmonizes with himself). Toward the end, he even adds in a harmonica riff, which he plays passionately well. If I had any misgivings, it would be that this song (or the portion in the YouTube video) is extremely short.

As he fingerpicks his way through the feel-good melodies on all these songs, we think, “Draco who?” The nasty Potter arch-rival is nowhere to be seen–there’s not even much angst in the lyrics, just clear-headed optimism.

Actually, the Feltbeats videos are rather difficult to critique. If it seemed like he were putting himself out there for a reason, as if saying “look, I can do more than act in family movies,” then we might be able to tell whether he was doing a good job. When Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter) did “Equus,” the play in London, he explicitly told the media something like, “I want people to know that I can act in different genres, and that I have a future as a different kind of actor.” Admittedly, Radcliffe got excellent reviews for “Equus” (maybe partially just because everyone who went saw him naked, so he may have been mainly praised for sheer confidence in himself… which also goes a long way, but I digress…), but he set out to prove something.

Nowhere have I read anything from Tom Felton that implied that he was making music for any reason other than his own pure enjoyment. And no one can be faulted for that.

If I could be anywhere, I would be on the Feltbeats YouTube channel. : )

[@feltbeats and @TomFelton are both excellent follows on Twitter; look them up!]

Savoring the Beat July 23, 2009

My mom is leaving tomorrow for southern Idaho, so for a while we had a plan to carpool a ways down there. She would drop me off at a monastery and I would spend a couple nights down there, volunteering and just hanging out, because I’ve never been in that kind of environment before. Then I found out that their facilities aren’t really open to that right now–only to retreats. Which means it would be two nights/three days in complete devotion to God, and I don’t think I’m ready for that. That’s pretty intense, and I feel like such an amateur.

Anyway, it turns out that they’re booked up for this weekend, so I’m not able to stay there even if I had the guts. It’s sad that I would even need guts to visit a monastery, for Heaven’s sake, but it’s true. Situations like that have always intimidated me. When I got to my middle/high school, everyone was familiar with the Bible and I barely knew where Genesis was. I’ve gotten a bit better, and a little more confident, but I still freeze up every time I enter a Catholic church. When do I kneel? When do I stand? With which hand do I cross myself?

It’s odd that I have some friends to whom this is all second nature… then, I have some friends who have only memorized the moves and rituals from movies, and some who have never stepped inside a Catholic church. I love them all, of course. But I do become wary of people who don’t really step out of their box.

That’s why Caleb and I are looking into “touring” some churches in the area, just to get some variety before I leave again. And when I do leave, I’d like to keep going to a church, because I love the experience. Last Sunday, after church, my dad asked me what it was like after the sermon. “Do people leave immediately, or mill around, or dissect the sermon, or what?”

After thinking for a moment, I likened it to the moments after a Sweet Adelines rehearsal. We sing a closing song, usually with hands held, and close with a big finish. We’re all smiling at each other and praising each other for a job well done, no matter how the evening went. Then, when we release hands, there’s a “beat” (as they say in the acting community) where everyone just sort of sighs.

It’s marvelous how similar things are in the churches I’ve been to. As the congregation closes with a song or a rousing chorus, everyone feels unified and vibrantly alert of each other and the reason they are all gathered there. Then, like the end of a rehearsal, there is a moment like a sigh–it isn’t silent, and it’s not particularly reverent, but it is somewhat thoughtful.

That’s a pretty cool moment, though it’s usually unremarkable. I mean, it’s also just the moment when everyone picks up their Bible and purse, begins talking to their neighbor, and makes their way out of the pew. Life goes on. It’s ordinary. But it’s the most comfortable moment, because there’s so much to think about, and yet it’s a very tense moment, because there’s so much responsibility. I always feel pretty pressured to keep up the kind of faithfulness I’ve felt for the past hour. And even that is a pretty awesome (yes, awe-some) feeling… but it’s also near impossible.

As many a pastor has said, “life gets in the way.” Sometimes I wish I were someone like Rumi or Aristotle or the Dalai Lama, for whom life probably does not get in the way. Feeling faithful IS their life. Hopefully they know how lucky they are.

Yoko Oye. July 22, 2009

I also follow Yoko Ono on Twitter, which was an embarrassingly huge step for me. It has taken me years to recognize the profound love than she and John shared, no matter how much it may have negatively affected John’s other relationships.

Anyway, I love it when people recognize that the first step towards peace is letting people know it’s out there. Peace exists; let us find it within ourselves first, and then learn how to spread it. Yoko, at least from her Tweets, seems like that kind of person, and I can really respect that. Plus, whatever she’s doing for “art” is a step in the right direction, so I want to praise her for actually trying.

Come to think of it, [and please excuse the shameless way I say "we" through all this, as if I were there], I have a few things for which we can at least recognize, if not praise, her.

• Dealing with all of us Beatles freaks who wanted to do very un-Lennon/Ono-like things to her. People have been against her since the day she stepped into John’s life and came out of the woodwork. A part of me thinks that the world wouldn’t have reacted half as strongly if John had settled down with some gorgeous American blonde bimbo, just because it would have made more sense. After all, those were the “type” he’d fallen for before. But then came this Japanese slice of nothing, and suddenly he was head-over-heels for her. And instead of shaking our heads and sighing and just being happy for him, we were outraged. Not only were there tons of things wrong with her… there was nothing right about her! What did he see in her? blah blah blah. Then, to top it all off, The Beatles just *happened* to break up, and regardless of how much influence Yoko had over that in the studio, there was no mistaking the fact that John was obviously distracted and otherwise engaged. But… well, there is no “but.” The break-up was an absolute tragedy. If there was some good light about it all, though, it would be that John was [apparently] happier than ever. And as long as he was still making great music, we should have been thrilled that he had found love.
• Dealing with John’s passing as well as she did. I cannot imagine her devastation, and frankly I’m impressed that she was able to pull through it (especially since she sort of had to carry the weight of the rest of the world’s mourning as well).
• Pushing the boundaries. Since I haven’t really warmed up to her for very long, I haven’t seen any of the work she’s produced. I’ve heard about some of it, though, like the 8-hour video of a fly crawling up a naked woman’s body. You can’t tell me that had been done before. Yoko pushed the boundaries of art in a way that the Beatles pushed the boundaries of rock. …Ok, maybe not that much, but both are an inspiration.
• Staying in the public eye. I used to hate her for this. Why couldn’t she just disappear back into the woodwork from whence she came, so we wouldn’t have to deal with her always talking about how amazing John was and what her new project is? In fact, I think we all sort of wished she’d shut up altogether–about peace, about art, about the Beatles, about herself… I don’t really know why. Maybe because even though we’d had 10 or 11 years, we hadn’t quite gotten used to her. Maybe we were hoping that John would get bored and call the whole thing off or make it an extended fling. But she ended up his widow, and she wasn’t going to let us ignore that.

“Oye” means “listen” in Spanish (correct me if I’m wrong–I took French), and I think Yoko deserves that from us. She’s pretty much the closest remaining piece of John that we have; maybe we should cherish that. After all that she’s been through, she hasn’t turned bitter and she’s still preaching John’s message of peace. Far from excommunicating Yoko Ono, let’s join her in wanting war to be over.