I will not miss you.
Not one single, tiny, itty, bitty bit.
If 2008 was a year for change for me then 2009 was a year for... lessons. Lessons learned.
They were hard lessons but I learned them nonetheless.
I've learned how awful it feels to have your worst paranoia's and fears come true. I've learned that hearts can be broken even when it's not an "in love" kind of love. I've learned that I can be angry enough at someone that just the thought of them makes me break out in hives. I've learned that there are always strings attached. I've learned that sometimes you have to purge something from your life before you realize how poisonous it really is and I've learned that it IS okay to be alone.
No, I will not miss this year, I will not miss the crapfest of emotions that I went through while learning these lessons.
But I do have to say this: Amidst the heartache and change and betrayal and endless worrying, there has been a silver lining, a more hopeful lesson, something I hope to hold on to as the real take away from this year. While certain people were dashing my beliefs and destroying my trust, a few others were showing me what true friendship really looks like.
It's frantic 2AM text messages and midnight rescue missions and showing up with trucks to pack and move an entire life in under four hours. It's providing a place of escape and a shoulder to cry on. It's trips to the beach and Disneyland and Barnes and Noble and The Cheesecake Factory. It's the sharing of dreams and fears. It's planning and hoping and dancing and snuggling. It's laughter, oh my God, so much laughter - belly aching, rolling on the floor, crying, kind of laughing.
I've been so lucky during this year to have friends who have come through in a big way for me, have shown me the kind of person, the kind of friend, the kind of woman I really want to be. So to the amazing people in my life, thank you. Thank you for restoring in me, a little bit of faith.
2009, you will not be missed. I'm onto bigger and better things. But I have a feeling, that when I look back I will remember 2009 as a defining year, a shaping year. Those heartaches and pains have only made me stronger and I step into this new year with all those lessons, strengthened friendships and a steady resolve.
Watch out.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
My Decade in Music
These are my heart songs
They never feel wrong
And when I wake for goodness sake
These are the songs I keep singin'
- Weezer
They never feel wrong
And when I wake for goodness sake
These are the songs I keep singin'
- Weezer
I've often found myself wishing that "real life" came with a soundtrack. In television and movies, the big moments are almost always accompanied by the perfect background song. Why can't life be like that? Why can't a stirring pop/alternative song start playing while I am coming to a life changing decision? Or falling in love? Or breaking up? Or hanging out with friends?
Well, despite the fact that there is no omnipresent speaker piping in music to the moments of my life, some of those moments are still made through music. Some music will always take me back to those moments. And at the end of this decade I find myself reflecting on the songs that have made the moments of my life over the past ten years. So, to the songs that annoyed me, made me smile, changed my life or played on endless loops in the car - this is the soundtrack of my decade
1. I Hope You Dance – Leeann Womack
I first heard this song in 2000 during a summer youth group trip. It made me cry then for all the friends that would be leaving for college in the coming months and the lyrics remained etched in my mind over the next few years. My senior quote was “If you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.” The song doesn't make me cry anymore but the message still remains one that I try to remember.
2. Drive – Incubus
Incubus was at the height of popularity during my senior year of high school and this was voted as our class song. I never thought much of it but as I was leaving campus for the last time after grad night this song came on the radio and I cried the entire way home. Class of 2001.
3. Breathing – Lifehouse
There are moments in my life that I will remember forever. This song was playing during one of those moments during a summer water-ski trip before I started college. My friend Matt was there and it was one of the last trips we would go on together before his death the following April. I will never forget him or the way he touched my heart.
4. Like a Prayer – Madonna
Many things can be said about my freshman year roommate but we did have a lot of fun together. One of my favorite memories is of her dancing around the room, blasting this song as loud as possible and pissing off the R.A.
5. Swing, Swing – All American Rejects
I worked at Jamba Juice for three years during college. It was mostly an obnoxious job but it also helped me buy my first car so I can’t complain too much. During the summer of 2003 this song was gaining popularity and whenever my boss wasn’t around we would play All American Rejects over the sound system. I still can’t hear this song without being reminded of the recipe for a Razzmatazz.
6. Hey Ya – Outkast
I’m pretty sure this song was the most overly played song during my junior year of college.
And yes, I do have to admit to occasionally shaking it “like a Polaroid picture.”
7. In Your Eyes – Peter Gabriel
Sometime during my junior year I discovered the awesomeness of Lloyd Dobler and Say Anything. It was also the year I discovered the friendships that would change my life. Girls of 702 forever!
8. I Don’t Want to Be – Gavin DeGraw
Yes, I watched One Tree Hill. But this was way back at the beginning when it was still kind of cool and the plot lines weren’t COMPLETELY ridiculous. More importantly than the actual show though, is the theme song, which introduced me to my favorite artist, Mr. Gavin DeGraw. He opened a Maroon 5 concert at the House of Blues and from the moment he stepped on stage, I was hooked. I have now seen him in concert six times and I can say in all honesty that he is one of the most electrifying performers I have ever seen in concert. Beautiful.
9. Particle Man – They Might Be Giants
How or why we started listening to this song, I have no idea, but my roommates and I listened and laughed to this song a lot my senior year. Whenever it pops up on my ipod shuffle I am instantly transported back to that year and the wackiness that ensued whenever the four of us girls were together.
10. New Slang – The Shins
Well, Natalie Portman was right. This song changed my life… Or maybe not. But this song and the entire “Garden State” Soundtrack changed the way I listened to and felt about music. It opened up this new world of indie music, with it’s nonsensical lyrics and odd hooks and rhythms. When I’m listening to this song through my headphones, the world just looks and feels different.
11. Transatlanticism – Death Cab for Cutie
I admit it, I may have been introduced to this band by the adorkable Seth Cohen, but they’ve since catapulted to the top of my “favorite bands” list all on their own. Ben Gibbard is an incredible lyricist. This song? There really are no words. Have you ever heard something and thought “wow, I wish I had written that”? Well, this is that song for me. Like “New Slang” this song, doesn’t always make complete sense but it doesn’t matter because it makes me feel something. And that’s what music’s supposed to do, right?
12. Black Horse and a Cherry Tree – KT Tunstall
Wikipedia tells me that this song came out in 2005. Well, since 2005 it has remained my LEAST favorite song of all time. The opening “Whoo-hoo” still creats a visceral reaction under my skin that causes me to shudder. I. Can. Not. Stand. It. Why? I’m not completely sure. Maybe it was the constant overplay. But every time at it came on the radio at work I found myself in a sudden foul mood… it did however, give my co-workers something to laugh about and taunt me with. Fun for them.
13. Something Pretty – Patrick Park
My grandparents moved from their home in 2005 up to a retirement community in Oregon. In doing so they had to sell the house that my dad grew up in, a house that I had known my entire life. To me, it was more than just a house; it was a home, it was memories, it was family and laughter and peace. It broke my heart to have to say goodbye. I will never forget this song playing in the car as I drove away from the house for the last time.
14. Sing - Travis
I like to think that my life as it is now, really started in 2006. A lot of things changed that year and set in motion the events that would change me over the next three years. It is also marked by being the year that I discovered The Office. It sounds stupid that a television show affected me so much but I had just moved back in with my parents, I was otherwise lost and confused and something about the show provided me a lot of comfort. I found myself completely enthralled with the Jim and Pam relationship and this song (the song they once listened to on his ipod) reminds me a lot of those times and feelings.
15. Snow – Red Hot Chili Peppers
Several summers in a row my dad's side of the family had a reunion up at a ranch in Oregon. It was a beautiful mountainous piece of property away from the “everything” of a busy life. We spent our days lounging in and around the pond and our nights watching the magnificent show of shooting stars and constellations in the sky. This song takes me back to those summer days, riding in the back of a truck with my cousins, sunburned and windchapped and completely content.
16. The Bad Touch – Bloodhound Gang
It’s a ridiculous song that was popular when I was in high school but it will forever remind me of my sisters. It's weird, I know, but the three of us listened to this song a lot on a road trip we took up to our cousin’s wedding. I’m only slightly embarrassed to say that I know almost all the lyrics.
17. Your Hand in Mine – Explosions in the Sky
I suddenly realize how many of these songs came from television shows. This one is the theme song to the incredible Friday Night Lights. I fell in love with the music after watching the show and this song, as well as many others by this band, became my go-to writing music.
18. I Hear the Bells – Mike Doughty
Another song from a television show: Veronica Mars. I really just love this song and according to itunes it is one of my most played songs on my playlist.
19. Love and Memories – O.A.R.
I’ve started working out a lot more over the past few years and this is one of my favorite songs to run to. There is nothing more therapeutic than my running shoes against the pavement, the sun setting in the distance and a really good song streaming through my earbuds.
20. New Hampshire – Matt Pond PA
In 2006 I participated for the first time in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The goal is to write a novel, or 50,000 words, in the confines of 30 days. I was successful that year, somehow churning out 50,000 words of a story that, truthfully, I don’t even remember. But what I do remember is the soundtrack that existed in my head for that story. This song was on that mental soundtrack and has somehow ended up on the soundtrack of every other piece of fiction I’ve ever written. There’s something just so fitting about it. I find myself constantly intrigued by the line, “what you had in your hand was so much more than the gold I let go to grab.”
21. Just Like Heaven – The Cure
I love the 80’s and there is something so perfectly 80’s about this song. It’s the perfect kind of song to play while driving along the coast with the windows down. One of the best friends I’ve made over the past few years has made it her life goal to see The Cure in concert and I cannot hear any of their songs without thinking of her. She’s changed me for the better and I don’t know what I would do without her.
22. Don’t Stop Believin – Journey
This song is not here because of The Sopranos or even because of Glee. It is here because 1.) it is just an awesome song and 2.) for a long time it was our go-to song to blast on the jukebox whenever we were at our local bar. And when I say “we” I’m referring to a group of people who were briefly vital to my life. These people, for better or for worse, changed me. One guy in particular (it's always about a guy, right?), someone I will never forget, and yet never want to see or know again, altered my life in ways I’m not even sure I comprehend yet. I both love and hate this person and I probably always will. Whenever I hear the opening chords of this song playing in a bar somewhere, I know a part of me will always think of him.
23. World Spins Madly On – The Weepies
I fall into music when I’m sad or lonely or moping. I have a playlist in itunes titled, “Wallowing.” It is filled with some of the most depressing songs of all time, including this song. There’s comfort in that much depression and emo whining. Maybe it’s the knowledge that someone out there, somewhere, has just as much (if not much more) to cry about than I do. Whatever it is, this song has helped me out of a many a serious wallowing funks.
24. The Bleeding Heart Show – The New Pornographers
I just really f*****g love this song. The coda that starts at 2:08 rocks my world.
25. Open Your Eyes – Snow Patrol
"I want so much to open your eyes, 'Cause I need you to look into mine." And so we’ve come to my favorite song of the decade. I can't say for sure why it is that I love this song so much, why is makes me feel so much. From 3:55 on, there is something so epic about the cacophonous harmony of guitar and drums. This song was absolutely amazing live in concert - I walked away saying that it was something akin to a religious experience. Goosebumps.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I Believe
It is 4:30 in the early early morning on December 25th, 1990.
The house is darkened, silent and still - save for the quiet, almost imperceptible shuffle of little feet along the carpet, the occasional giggle and “shushhhhhh.”
Three little faces materialize around the corner of the hallway and peer – with delicious anticipation – into the living room. There is a gasp and a clapping of hands at the sight which befalls them.
The Christmas tree, standing so tall and serene in front of the large bay window, is surrounded by presents, an impossible number of presents. The stockings hung over the chimney are full to the brim with goodies and nearby on the table there is a half-empty glass of milk and a plate of scattered cookie crumbs.
The little girls run happily back to their beds, shaking with excitement for the hour when they can finally leap onto their parents’ bed, squealing and shouting with glee –
“Santa came! Santa came!”
The same joyous cry will be heard throughout all parts of the world this morning, just as it has been heard for hundreds of years, just as it will continue to be heard for hundreds of years to come…
That particular Christmas Day was nineteen years ago.
I was seven years old.
In the years since that morning, my sisters and I have grown older, taller and wiser. We have been laden with the burdens of school and friends and work and bills and the endless sea of responsibility that comes from growing up and entering adulthood…
And still, without fail, as the holiday season approaches, as decorations appear in store fronts and the radio waves are filled with Jingle Bells, as Charlie Brown and Rudolph and Frosty make their annual appearances on our television screens – we once again become those little girls, all wide-eyed and filled with eager anticipation as the season swirls around us in this breathtaking cacophony of lights and sounds and tastes…
…pine trees, stockings full of toys, sugar cookies, bells, annoying commercials, a neighborhood street lined with twinkling lights, nativity scenes, twenty-four hours of A Christmas Story on TBS, the comfort of curling up in front of the fireplace under a warm blanket, mistletoe, carols, lying under the Christmas tree, Poinsettias, finding that perfect gift for a loved one, holiday parties, candy canes…
Peace. Love. Joy.
It is as if something in the holiday air, some wonderfully marvelous mixture of peppermint and gingerbread and hot chocolate, wipes away all those years - all those reasons that make it so hard to just believe in magic and Santa Claus and his eight flying reindeer. It is easy again. Uncomplicated. Simple.
Of course the world is filled with magic. It’s waiting to surprise us at every corner. Sneaking up on us and tapping us on the shoulder and prompting us
into joyous bursts of laughter and childlike astonishment.
And of course. Of course there is a Santa Claus.
There always will be. There always has been.
I never ever want to lose the possibilities of this belief, my overwhelming love of Christmas, the excitement that comes at seeing those first signs of the season.
And I hope, I pray, that everyone this season – no matter your beliefs, no matter the holiday which you celebrate, whether you are seven or seventy-six – that you find something to believe in this holiday season, something to once again fill you with innocent wonder.
So, in parting, I have a confession to make.
Promise you won’t laugh?
Okay, here it is – I’m twenty-four years old and I still lie awake on Christmas Eve Night and listen – hope for that distinct sound of sleigh bells up on the rooftop.
And here’s the real crazy part – sometimes I’ll hear something off in the distance, the faint ringing of a bell and my heart will leap and maybe… maybe… maybe…
“Santa came! Santa came!”
The house is darkened, silent and still - save for the quiet, almost imperceptible shuffle of little feet along the carpet, the occasional giggle and “shushhhhhh.”
Three little faces materialize around the corner of the hallway and peer – with delicious anticipation – into the living room. There is a gasp and a clapping of hands at the sight which befalls them.
The Christmas tree, standing so tall and serene in front of the large bay window, is surrounded by presents, an impossible number of presents. The stockings hung over the chimney are full to the brim with goodies and nearby on the table there is a half-empty glass of milk and a plate of scattered cookie crumbs.
The little girls run happily back to their beds, shaking with excitement for the hour when they can finally leap onto their parents’ bed, squealing and shouting with glee –
“Santa came! Santa came!”
The same joyous cry will be heard throughout all parts of the world this morning, just as it has been heard for hundreds of years, just as it will continue to be heard for hundreds of years to come…
That particular Christmas Day was nineteen years ago.
I was seven years old.
In the years since that morning, my sisters and I have grown older, taller and wiser. We have been laden with the burdens of school and friends and work and bills and the endless sea of responsibility that comes from growing up and entering adulthood…
And still, without fail, as the holiday season approaches, as decorations appear in store fronts and the radio waves are filled with Jingle Bells, as Charlie Brown and Rudolph and Frosty make their annual appearances on our television screens – we once again become those little girls, all wide-eyed and filled with eager anticipation as the season swirls around us in this breathtaking cacophony of lights and sounds and tastes…
…pine trees, stockings full of toys, sugar cookies, bells, annoying commercials, a neighborhood street lined with twinkling lights, nativity scenes, twenty-four hours of A Christmas Story on TBS, the comfort of curling up in front of the fireplace under a warm blanket, mistletoe, carols, lying under the Christmas tree, Poinsettias, finding that perfect gift for a loved one, holiday parties, candy canes…
Peace. Love. Joy.
It is as if something in the holiday air, some wonderfully marvelous mixture of peppermint and gingerbread and hot chocolate, wipes away all those years - all those reasons that make it so hard to just believe in magic and Santa Claus and his eight flying reindeer. It is easy again. Uncomplicated. Simple.
Of course the world is filled with magic. It’s waiting to surprise us at every corner. Sneaking up on us and tapping us on the shoulder and prompting us
into joyous bursts of laughter and childlike astonishment.
And of course. Of course there is a Santa Claus.
There always will be. There always has been.
I never ever want to lose the possibilities of this belief, my overwhelming love of Christmas, the excitement that comes at seeing those first signs of the season.
And I hope, I pray, that everyone this season – no matter your beliefs, no matter the holiday which you celebrate, whether you are seven or seventy-six – that you find something to believe in this holiday season, something to once again fill you with innocent wonder.
So, in parting, I have a confession to make.
Promise you won’t laugh?
Okay, here it is – I’m twenty-four years old and I still lie awake on Christmas Eve Night and listen – hope for that distinct sound of sleigh bells up on the rooftop.
And here’s the real crazy part – sometimes I’ll hear something off in the distance, the faint ringing of a bell and my heart will leap and maybe… maybe… maybe…
“Santa came! Santa came!”
Sunday, November 29, 2009
NaNoWriMo Word Cloud
Well, another year of NaNoWriMo is done. Fortunately, after the disaster of last year, this year I was able to get my act together and write a grand total of 50,044 words. Score! I wasn't sure I was going to make it though - I was suffering from serious Procrastination-itis near the end. But here I am with a brand new novel on my hands. A novel that needs a serious editing overhaul, but a novel nonetheless.
Thanks to the wonderful Worlde.net (I love this site. I want to word cloud everything). I created a Word Cloud for my NaNo novel. Here it is:
I think I use the words "just" and "know" too much. I'll have to work on that in the editing process.
Thanks to the wonderful Worlde.net (I love this site. I want to word cloud everything). I created a Word Cloud for my NaNo novel. Here it is:
I think I use the words "just" and "know" too much. I'll have to work on that in the editing process.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Paths
The dreams of a seven year old are crystalline clear, simplistic and easy.
Growing and growing.
Within reach of chubby, sticky fingers that grab for all they desire.
Proclaiming with such strength, vivacious spirit, clear intensity, absolute truth
But time changes simplicity and the realm of dreams fades away
Further and further
Imagination, creativity, magic, innocence, fairy tale beliefs slip out of a weakening grasp
The world becomes too real, too boring, too close, too rationalized, too practical.
The years roll by and we are spectators to our lives, time moves faster and faster
On and on
Suddenly we are taller and older and somehow insignificantly less wise.
There are no easy answers and the future looms near
We are told to chose a path but there is no path, not one taken, not one less traveled
Searching and searching
Reaching only cloudy nothingness and continuing to walk blind
Desiring, yearning, wanting, wishing beyond all hope to go back
Back to innocence and dreams, creativity, magical wonder and wide eyed splendor
Dreaming and dreaming
To see what that little girl knew, look in her eyes and find it, find the answers, find out
That somehow in my heart of hearts, in my childlike memory, I’ve always known
Impossibilities of all impossibilities, there is no going back, no standing still, but…
Maybe just maybe
In this all too real, practical, rational, logical, suffocating world there is still time
To dream…
Growing and growing.
Within reach of chubby, sticky fingers that grab for all they desire.
Proclaiming with such strength, vivacious spirit, clear intensity, absolute truth
But time changes simplicity and the realm of dreams fades away
Further and further
Imagination, creativity, magic, innocence, fairy tale beliefs slip out of a weakening grasp
The world becomes too real, too boring, too close, too rationalized, too practical.
The years roll by and we are spectators to our lives, time moves faster and faster
On and on
Suddenly we are taller and older and somehow insignificantly less wise.
There are no easy answers and the future looms near
We are told to chose a path but there is no path, not one taken, not one less traveled
Searching and searching
Reaching only cloudy nothingness and continuing to walk blind
Desiring, yearning, wanting, wishing beyond all hope to go back
Back to innocence and dreams, creativity, magical wonder and wide eyed splendor
Dreaming and dreaming
To see what that little girl knew, look in her eyes and find it, find the answers, find out
That somehow in my heart of hearts, in my childlike memory, I’ve always known
Impossibilities of all impossibilities, there is no going back, no standing still, but…
Maybe just maybe
In this all too real, practical, rational, logical, suffocating world there is still time
To dream…
Friday, November 13, 2009
Drift
I etch my words upon the shore.
While time ticking- tock flies past
Lines scrawled, scratched into the sand
All knowing a fleeting thing won’t last
The tide tumbles in on curling waves
With a rumbling crash and hissing foam
Salt watery hands take my words
And slip, crawl down back to home
Out to sea and the churning black
A million messages float and swirl
Speak out, speak out, where no one hears
In voiceless cacophony unfurl
And here on this beach, with the sun dipped low
This slate of sand is wiped clean
I start again each day to write
This echo, this story, this dream.
Someday I'll carve my words to stone
Deep and dark to stay
But for now I’ll etch along the sand
And watch as they’re washed away
While time ticking- tock flies past
Lines scrawled, scratched into the sand
All knowing a fleeting thing won’t last
The tide tumbles in on curling waves
With a rumbling crash and hissing foam
Salt watery hands take my words
And slip, crawl down back to home
Out to sea and the churning black
A million messages float and swirl
Speak out, speak out, where no one hears
In voiceless cacophony unfurl
And here on this beach, with the sun dipped low
This slate of sand is wiped clean
I start again each day to write
This echo, this story, this dream.
Someday I'll carve my words to stone
Deep and dark to stay
But for now I’ll etch along the sand
And watch as they’re washed away
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A Thanksgiving Stand
It’s November 9th.
45 days before Christmas - that’s over a month people.
And yet, I’m almost positive that I just overheard the faint strains of Jingle Bells as I was strolling through the aisles of Target.
What’s that all about?
Okay, sure, I’m a fan of the holiday season as much as anyone. In fact I’m pretty much in love with the holiday season. Carol singing, gift buying, the spicy sweet smell of gingerbread, Charlie Brown’s pathetic little tree, warm fires crackling in the hearth, families reunited with laughter and food – these all have the ability to turn me into a wide-eyed little girl again, all giddy with the prospect of presents and my mom’s homemade mashed potatoes.
But I think we’re forgetting something here. Before the Jingle Bells, before the last minute shopping frenzy, before the stockings are hung by the chimney with care…
That’s right. Thanksgiving - the forgotten middle child of the holiday season. Consistently overshadowed by perfect, overachieving sister Christmas and zany, quirky little brother Halloween.
Because sure, it’s nice to sit around and watch football and stuff ourselves silly with food but let’s face it, we’re Americans – it’s not much of a deviation from our normal lives. So we may find ourselves thinking – what’s the big deal?
On Thanksgiving you can’t dress up like SpongeBob and ring your neighbor’s doorbell to ask for candy - or you can - but you can pretty much guarantee that your neighbor’s going to be giving you some funny looks for while.
There’s no exchanging of gifts – no Thanksgiving Carols – no great big jolly man in a big red suit with a sack full of toys.
Thanksgiving, and the whole month of November really, just continues to pass by quietly, in its unobtrusive pumpkin pie sweet kind of way as children all over the world start the countdown to the holidays that really matter.
Well, this year I’m taking a stand for Thanksgiving.
For the Pilgrims. For cranberry farmers and football lovers and airport personnel and tryptophan lovers across the country.
This year let’s remember Thanksgiving. For more than just the great sales and the long lines that it’s evil twin “Black Friday” brings in her wake.
Let’s take the time to turn off the cell phones, sit down with our families and just enjoy the presence of human company, of laughter around the dinner table, of the clang and clatter of forks and knives and fancy china.
I know you’ve got it in you – there’s a reason that millions of Americans will be taking to the roads and skies over the next few weeks. The greeting card companies and department stores may have forgotten but we haven’t. Inside every one of us there lies a need to be surrounded by friends and family, to watch Uncle Ted and Aunt Lillian fight over the last of the yams and to eat more turkey than humanly possible or necessary.
So forget for a moment about the stresses and trials of life. Take a deep breath. Relax. Enjoy your day off. Cheer for your team. Watch a parade. Eat. Eat. Eat.
And don’t forget to give some thanks for all we have been blessed with.
Happy Thanksgiving to All.
45 days before Christmas - that’s over a month people.
And yet, I’m almost positive that I just overheard the faint strains of Jingle Bells as I was strolling through the aisles of Target.
What’s that all about?
Okay, sure, I’m a fan of the holiday season as much as anyone. In fact I’m pretty much in love with the holiday season. Carol singing, gift buying, the spicy sweet smell of gingerbread, Charlie Brown’s pathetic little tree, warm fires crackling in the hearth, families reunited with laughter and food – these all have the ability to turn me into a wide-eyed little girl again, all giddy with the prospect of presents and my mom’s homemade mashed potatoes.
But I think we’re forgetting something here. Before the Jingle Bells, before the last minute shopping frenzy, before the stockings are hung by the chimney with care…
That’s right. Thanksgiving - the forgotten middle child of the holiday season. Consistently overshadowed by perfect, overachieving sister Christmas and zany, quirky little brother Halloween.
Because sure, it’s nice to sit around and watch football and stuff ourselves silly with food but let’s face it, we’re Americans – it’s not much of a deviation from our normal lives. So we may find ourselves thinking – what’s the big deal?
On Thanksgiving you can’t dress up like SpongeBob and ring your neighbor’s doorbell to ask for candy - or you can - but you can pretty much guarantee that your neighbor’s going to be giving you some funny looks for while.
There’s no exchanging of gifts – no Thanksgiving Carols – no great big jolly man in a big red suit with a sack full of toys.
Thanksgiving, and the whole month of November really, just continues to pass by quietly, in its unobtrusive pumpkin pie sweet kind of way as children all over the world start the countdown to the holidays that really matter.
Well, this year I’m taking a stand for Thanksgiving.
For the Pilgrims. For cranberry farmers and football lovers and airport personnel and tryptophan lovers across the country.
This year let’s remember Thanksgiving. For more than just the great sales and the long lines that it’s evil twin “Black Friday” brings in her wake.
Let’s take the time to turn off the cell phones, sit down with our families and just enjoy the presence of human company, of laughter around the dinner table, of the clang and clatter of forks and knives and fancy china.
I know you’ve got it in you – there’s a reason that millions of Americans will be taking to the roads and skies over the next few weeks. The greeting card companies and department stores may have forgotten but we haven’t. Inside every one of us there lies a need to be surrounded by friends and family, to watch Uncle Ted and Aunt Lillian fight over the last of the yams and to eat more turkey than humanly possible or necessary.
So forget for a moment about the stresses and trials of life. Take a deep breath. Relax. Enjoy your day off. Cheer for your team. Watch a parade. Eat. Eat. Eat.
And don’t forget to give some thanks for all we have been blessed with.
Happy Thanksgiving to All.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
until never and again
fists clenched (hold on, hold on, please).
crescent indentations of red
etched into the palms of my hands
but still
it slips, slips, slips
pulls away from me until my fingers grasp at empty air.
it is weightless, I am weightless, floating, helpless
nothing left
to do
but fall…
through all this strangeness,
chaos controlled by months and days and years,
through a shimmering wave of gossamer weave -
when you’re gone and you’re here and you were never really,
anything more than a flicker in the distance
of possibility
but
you smile, and I fall
sinking into you but I’m only falling
into whispered sighs and the want, aching want, so wanting that it needs.
the press of your body against mine, the frantic undress of your lips, fingertips,
arms wrapped around, over, between, everywhere
my skin is alive,
it jumps, electric
pulsing, pulsing, pulsing…
Oh.
your tongue tastes like vodka and half-truths and I drink it in,
thirsty, desperate…. until…
drunk off nothingness
i am empty
gone
fingers cannot unclench, they do not know how.
holding so, anchored, sane
a tightly wound coil that is ready to spring
At….
….any….
….moment…
… falling, weightless. Everything into nothing.
Alone with my memories and this fall, this constant fall,
this rushing wind in my ears, this
drip, drip, drip like a leaky faucet.
tap, tap, tap at my brain
a drum beat.
bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum
I lose my fucking mind.
(stop)
please, please
pick out the little pieces of my brain, my heart, my soul
that contain you, every inch of skin you’ve touched,
lips, throat, inner thigh.
the moments that contain you, wherein you exist
so wholly, so you
take them. they’re yours
they murder me,
leave me slain, bleeding, an empty corpse…
…twisted and tangled in confusion
nothing is as it seems (seemed)
and everything is everything
weightless and heavy. light and dark. lost and found. love and nothing
you and me…
you and…
you…
(wait)
you are me and I am you and everything all rolled into one shapeless formless mess of bones and hair and skin and veins everything all that I have ever met and known and thought or considered you are part of this uncontainable universe that is ever changing pushing outward swallowing whole everything that lives and breaths and loves and dies and…
me
you are a moment,
incandescent happenstance
(end)
you smile, I return
…let it slip away
a long ribbon waves back to earth
I stand and watch (destroyed, glad) as
a single balloon floats away toward the clouds,
stretching up and away and gone.
crescent indentations of red
etched into the palms of my hands
but still
it slips, slips, slips
pulls away from me until my fingers grasp at empty air.
it is weightless, I am weightless, floating, helpless
nothing left
to do
but fall…
through all this strangeness,
chaos controlled by months and days and years,
through a shimmering wave of gossamer weave -
when you’re gone and you’re here and you were never really,
anything more than a flicker in the distance
of possibility
but
you smile, and I fall
sinking into you but I’m only falling
into whispered sighs and the want, aching want, so wanting that it needs.
the press of your body against mine, the frantic undress of your lips, fingertips,
arms wrapped around, over, between, everywhere
my skin is alive,
it jumps, electric
pulsing, pulsing, pulsing…
Oh.
your tongue tastes like vodka and half-truths and I drink it in,
thirsty, desperate…. until…
drunk off nothingness
i am empty
gone
fingers cannot unclench, they do not know how.
holding so, anchored, sane
a tightly wound coil that is ready to spring
At….
….any….
….moment…
… falling, weightless. Everything into nothing.
Alone with my memories and this fall, this constant fall,
this rushing wind in my ears, this
drip, drip, drip like a leaky faucet.
tap, tap, tap at my brain
a drum beat.
bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum
I lose my fucking mind.
(stop)
please, please
pick out the little pieces of my brain, my heart, my soul
that contain you, every inch of skin you’ve touched,
lips, throat, inner thigh.
the moments that contain you, wherein you exist
so wholly, so you
take them. they’re yours
they murder me,
leave me slain, bleeding, an empty corpse…
…twisted and tangled in confusion
nothing is as it seems (seemed)
and everything is everything
weightless and heavy. light and dark. lost and found. love and nothing
you and me…
you and…
you…
(wait)
you are me and I am you and everything all rolled into one shapeless formless mess of bones and hair and skin and veins everything all that I have ever met and known and thought or considered you are part of this uncontainable universe that is ever changing pushing outward swallowing whole everything that lives and breaths and loves and dies and…
me
you are a moment,
incandescent happenstance
(end)
you smile, I return
…let it slip away
a long ribbon waves back to earth
I stand and watch (destroyed, glad) as
a single balloon floats away toward the clouds,
stretching up and away and gone.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Whatever, and I Don't Know
Humans are explorers by nature. It is ingrained into our very core to explore and search and wonder and question. From the earliest of times we have been pushing outward, exploring New Worlds and the Wild Wild West, plumbing the depths of the oceans and the vastness of the skies and outer reaches of space. We discover and create and build and question – always looking for more. It is our manifest destiny to continue to strive to “infinity and beyond!”
But we live in a world that has become increasingly small. Thousands of years of human exploration have led us to this place where we have 24-hour news cycles and camera phones and the ability to communicate instantaneously with someone on the other side of the planet. We can follow Twitter and Facebook for eyewitness accounts of protesting in Iran, Mapquest directions to an event, Google random trivia like “Who was the 15th U.S. President?” and “Can turkeys really drown in the rain?”, browse YouTube if we have a burning desire to watch a cat playing piano, download new music and television shows on itunes… the list continues. What used to be a three-month treacherous journey by ship or cross country trek by covered wagon is now a split second click of the mouse, push of a button. I can boot up my computer, blackberry, iphone, whatever and have the world, literally at my fingertips.
But all of this, all of this knowledge and all of this technology and all of this constant pleasure-on-demand leaves me with one question…
What’s next?
The fields and wide-open spaces are covered in strip malls, if we push any further West we’re going to fall into the ocean and I can’t walk two feet without tripping over someone… and their big ass Hummer.
When even the road less traveled is trampled and worn, where do we go?
I realize of course, that this Earth probably still has some pretty spectacular surprises in store for us, that there are still cures to be found and technological advancements to be made, that there are still possible worlds beyond the sights of our telescopes. There will always be new creations to be imagined and questions to be asked and pondered but sometimes that all just seems so… eh, whatever.
When I was younger I loved to play that computer game “Oregon Trail.” There was something so thrilling about loading up this fictional wagon and starting the trek westward across the computer screen. It was fun and exciting and dangerous. There was the risk of dying of cholera or snakebite or drowning while fording a river or running out of food or supplies. Now, I’m not saying that this children’s computer game somehow represents our human need for exploration. I’m willing to guess that most of us just enjoyed naming all the players after friends and seeing which one died first of typhoid. But the danger element, the wide-open space, traveling to something new, FINDING something new, chartering a new world, the unknown… that’s something worth getting up in the morning and pursuing.
Yeah, I know, I’m starting to sound like a spoiled little brat. Wah, wah, wah, poor me with all these options. Stupid options. I wish I could die of dysentery in a covered wagon. But here’s the thing: I see it all over the place. I have so many friends who are just sort of dog paddling around with no real vision of where to go next. We are a generation with nothing but options and we have no idea what to do with it all. There’s too much to choose from and I think we tend to get all caught up and tripped up and lost in the deciding.
I will switch jobs nine times over the course of a year, I will move around aimlessly, live with my parents, hang out with my friends and complain of boredom because yes, I can do anything – but what, WHAT is it that I want? Really WANT?
It’s sort of new, this deciding. Generations previous have had their lives mapped out from the day of their birth. You will take over the family business. You will marry well. You will bear children. You will work until the day you die because that’s your place in life. Birth, childhood, school, work, marriage, kids, grand kids, death. Ta-da. There you have it. The end.
But now we’ve come to this place in history where we don’t have our futures mapped out. I don’t have to get married and my father is not expected to give up our family cow for my dowry, I don’t have to protect the family name (although, I’m sure my parents would prefer I don’t totally shame it) and I don’t have to take over the family business. I can do or be or become or act any way that I desire. So…
Career? If I have to.
Marriage? Maybe. We’ll see what happens
Kids? Sure. I guess.
Whatever.
Jack Kerouac wrote, “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” That’s it. I have nothing to offer the world by my own confusion and my restlessness. I’m confused and I’m bored and I think too much. Of course, of course I’m grateful for my lot in life. I realize what it means to have these kinds of options - I just don’t know what to do with them all and sometimes it’s so easy to hide away and not make the decision and just let myself fall into the trap of complacency.
So what do we do?
There are no answers. At least – I don’t have those answers. But here is what I know: Yes, the world has become small. Yes, it can seem sometimes that there are no roads “less traveled.” And no, we don’t need to travel by rickety covered wagon anymore. But we’re never going to wake up one morning and find that there’s noting left to care about, nothing left to work for and push at and fix and re-create and love and take care of on this planet. There’s always going to be something, even if we don’t have to brave fording a river to find it.
We just have to remember to get up and LOOK for it.
So for now, I’m just me, running around in my own confusion, trying to find a way out, trying not to trip myself up in the process, trying to enjoy myself as much as possible while searching for my own, “infinity and beyond.”
World, here is my confusion, do with it what you will.
But we live in a world that has become increasingly small. Thousands of years of human exploration have led us to this place where we have 24-hour news cycles and camera phones and the ability to communicate instantaneously with someone on the other side of the planet. We can follow Twitter and Facebook for eyewitness accounts of protesting in Iran, Mapquest directions to an event, Google random trivia like “Who was the 15th U.S. President?” and “Can turkeys really drown in the rain?”, browse YouTube if we have a burning desire to watch a cat playing piano, download new music and television shows on itunes… the list continues. What used to be a three-month treacherous journey by ship or cross country trek by covered wagon is now a split second click of the mouse, push of a button. I can boot up my computer, blackberry, iphone, whatever and have the world, literally at my fingertips.
But all of this, all of this knowledge and all of this technology and all of this constant pleasure-on-demand leaves me with one question…
What’s next?
The fields and wide-open spaces are covered in strip malls, if we push any further West we’re going to fall into the ocean and I can’t walk two feet without tripping over someone… and their big ass Hummer.
When even the road less traveled is trampled and worn, where do we go?
I realize of course, that this Earth probably still has some pretty spectacular surprises in store for us, that there are still cures to be found and technological advancements to be made, that there are still possible worlds beyond the sights of our telescopes. There will always be new creations to be imagined and questions to be asked and pondered but sometimes that all just seems so… eh, whatever.
When I was younger I loved to play that computer game “Oregon Trail.” There was something so thrilling about loading up this fictional wagon and starting the trek westward across the computer screen. It was fun and exciting and dangerous. There was the risk of dying of cholera or snakebite or drowning while fording a river or running out of food or supplies. Now, I’m not saying that this children’s computer game somehow represents our human need for exploration. I’m willing to guess that most of us just enjoyed naming all the players after friends and seeing which one died first of typhoid. But the danger element, the wide-open space, traveling to something new, FINDING something new, chartering a new world, the unknown… that’s something worth getting up in the morning and pursuing.
Yeah, I know, I’m starting to sound like a spoiled little brat. Wah, wah, wah, poor me with all these options. Stupid options. I wish I could die of dysentery in a covered wagon. But here’s the thing: I see it all over the place. I have so many friends who are just sort of dog paddling around with no real vision of where to go next. We are a generation with nothing but options and we have no idea what to do with it all. There’s too much to choose from and I think we tend to get all caught up and tripped up and lost in the deciding.
I will switch jobs nine times over the course of a year, I will move around aimlessly, live with my parents, hang out with my friends and complain of boredom because yes, I can do anything – but what, WHAT is it that I want? Really WANT?
It’s sort of new, this deciding. Generations previous have had their lives mapped out from the day of their birth. You will take over the family business. You will marry well. You will bear children. You will work until the day you die because that’s your place in life. Birth, childhood, school, work, marriage, kids, grand kids, death. Ta-da. There you have it. The end.
But now we’ve come to this place in history where we don’t have our futures mapped out. I don’t have to get married and my father is not expected to give up our family cow for my dowry, I don’t have to protect the family name (although, I’m sure my parents would prefer I don’t totally shame it) and I don’t have to take over the family business. I can do or be or become or act any way that I desire. So…
Career? If I have to.
Marriage? Maybe. We’ll see what happens
Kids? Sure. I guess.
Whatever.
Jack Kerouac wrote, “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” That’s it. I have nothing to offer the world by my own confusion and my restlessness. I’m confused and I’m bored and I think too much. Of course, of course I’m grateful for my lot in life. I realize what it means to have these kinds of options - I just don’t know what to do with them all and sometimes it’s so easy to hide away and not make the decision and just let myself fall into the trap of complacency.
So what do we do?
There are no answers. At least – I don’t have those answers. But here is what I know: Yes, the world has become small. Yes, it can seem sometimes that there are no roads “less traveled.” And no, we don’t need to travel by rickety covered wagon anymore. But we’re never going to wake up one morning and find that there’s noting left to care about, nothing left to work for and push at and fix and re-create and love and take care of on this planet. There’s always going to be something, even if we don’t have to brave fording a river to find it.
We just have to remember to get up and LOOK for it.
So for now, I’m just me, running around in my own confusion, trying to find a way out, trying not to trip myself up in the process, trying to enjoy myself as much as possible while searching for my own, “infinity and beyond.”
World, here is my confusion, do with it what you will.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Butterfly Circus
If you have 20 minutes, please watch this film. It's absolutely lovely. I cried.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Greatest of These
In the beginning there was a place.
And in this place there were some people.
And these people had a story.
XOXOXO
The morning dew clings to blades of pale yellow grass,
begins to slide slowly off leaves as the day warms.
Wispy pink clouds are light on the horizon
– illuminated by the steadily rising sun.
The air is crisp, biting cold red-noses, as they walk
slowly up the sidewalk of that familiar street,
Their hands, wrinkled, clasped tightly between them.
His breathing is heavy.
Her knees are sore with aching pain.
They are quiet.
There is only the sound of a songbird calling to a mate
high in a tree above them.
XOXOXO
The television screen flickers silently,
casting a strange blue glow about the darkened room
as the clock in the corner reads a bright green 1:09 a.m.
A brown tabby cat is nestled onto a cushion in the corner,
its ears flickering at any sudden noise.
The girls are curled up on either end of the sofa,
clad in pajamas and wrapped in warm fleece blankets.
Their eyes burn with exhaustion and grow heavy but they do not sleep.
They talk and talk and talk as the minutes tick by.
A chorus of giggles startles the night.
The cat perks up in alert, looks around the room sleepily,
Then falls asleep once again.
XOXOXO
The long shadows of dusk begin to fall over the yard.
A window is illuminated by a warm yellow light.
They sit around the table, leaning back in chairs,
Smiling.
Children giggle and make faces.
Steam curls in lazy circles over the top of mismatched coffee mugs.
A half empty glass of milk is accidentally over turned
and the sound of laughter echoes out over the ever-darkening day.
XOXOXO
Tulle and lace flutter carelessly
as a soft breeze stirs the warm summer day.
White lilies, so carefully arranged, nod in response.
Everyone waits anxiously, murmuring in hushed tones
To the soft melody of a single violin.
He waits for her, his skin already sticky with the salty sea air,
his hair tussled lightly, his feet bare in the soft sand.
She walks toward him, practically shaking with excitement,
Her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Their hands meet, fingers twining together as the waves continue
to sweep across the shore in a steady crash… crash… crash…
XOXOXO
The room is filled with the soft murmur of voices,
the low hum and beep of machines.
A light glows overhead, fluorescent and harsh.
A pair of eyes strain to open in this too bright, new world
and then flutter shut once again.
She watches carefully and a tired smile eases onto her face
as she smoothes her finger over soft skin.
Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.
She shifts the bundle in her arms, leans back against the pillow.
The child stirs – a tiny fist waving in the air – and then settles again.
XOXOXO
And the place was made good
And the people were made good
And the story was forever.
And in this place there were some people.
And these people had a story.
XOXOXO
The morning dew clings to blades of pale yellow grass,
begins to slide slowly off leaves as the day warms.
Wispy pink clouds are light on the horizon
– illuminated by the steadily rising sun.
The air is crisp, biting cold red-noses, as they walk
slowly up the sidewalk of that familiar street,
Their hands, wrinkled, clasped tightly between them.
His breathing is heavy.
Her knees are sore with aching pain.
They are quiet.
There is only the sound of a songbird calling to a mate
high in a tree above them.
XOXOXO
The television screen flickers silently,
casting a strange blue glow about the darkened room
as the clock in the corner reads a bright green 1:09 a.m.
A brown tabby cat is nestled onto a cushion in the corner,
its ears flickering at any sudden noise.
The girls are curled up on either end of the sofa,
clad in pajamas and wrapped in warm fleece blankets.
Their eyes burn with exhaustion and grow heavy but they do not sleep.
They talk and talk and talk as the minutes tick by.
A chorus of giggles startles the night.
The cat perks up in alert, looks around the room sleepily,
Then falls asleep once again.
XOXOXO
The long shadows of dusk begin to fall over the yard.
A window is illuminated by a warm yellow light.
They sit around the table, leaning back in chairs,
Smiling.
Children giggle and make faces.
Steam curls in lazy circles over the top of mismatched coffee mugs.
A half empty glass of milk is accidentally over turned
and the sound of laughter echoes out over the ever-darkening day.
XOXOXO
Tulle and lace flutter carelessly
as a soft breeze stirs the warm summer day.
White lilies, so carefully arranged, nod in response.
Everyone waits anxiously, murmuring in hushed tones
To the soft melody of a single violin.
He waits for her, his skin already sticky with the salty sea air,
his hair tussled lightly, his feet bare in the soft sand.
She walks toward him, practically shaking with excitement,
Her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Their hands meet, fingers twining together as the waves continue
to sweep across the shore in a steady crash… crash… crash…
XOXOXO
The room is filled with the soft murmur of voices,
the low hum and beep of machines.
A light glows overhead, fluorescent and harsh.
A pair of eyes strain to open in this too bright, new world
and then flutter shut once again.
She watches carefully and a tired smile eases onto her face
as she smoothes her finger over soft skin.
Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes.
She shifts the bundle in her arms, leans back against the pillow.
The child stirs – a tiny fist waving in the air – and then settles again.
XOXOXO
And the place was made good
And the people were made good
And the story was forever.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I Love Music
Age: 26
01. One of the earliest songs you can remember listening to:
Downtown- Petula Clark
02. Song from the artist you last saw live:
Hum Hallelujah – Fall Out Boy
03. Song you currently can’t get out of your head:
Somebody to Love - Queen
04. Song by someone who is dead:
What is Life - George Harrison
05. Song you discovered from a film or TV show:
I Hear the Bells – Mike Doughty
01. One of the earliest songs you can remember listening to:
Downtown- Petula Clark
02. Song from the artist you last saw live:
Hum Hallelujah – Fall Out Boy
03. Song you currently can’t get out of your head:
Somebody to Love - Queen
04. Song by someone who is dead:
What is Life - George Harrison
05. Song you discovered from a film or TV show:
I Hear the Bells – Mike Doughty
Monday, October 12, 2009
My Words
My voice is lost. I can’t speak.
The words are there on my mind in practiced rhythm, but speech falters.
Syllables get caught up on my tongue,
rolling over each other in a stuttering (repeating, repeating) mess.
I lose my thoughts and a deep red spreads up my cheeks
as I’m thrown into a twisting and churning sea of babbling nonsense.
I am strange, voiceless.
I cannot say what I mean so I don’t say anything at all and it’s quiet,
deafening quiet until ideas and hurts and passions and pains and answers
build and build and build
and there’s nowhere left to go but tearing out through my lungs
in one rebellious cry of sound and fury.
A loud cacophonous clatter of sounds and words and empty phrases
floating in empty space, meaning nothing, saying nothing.
They are lost. My voice is lost. There is nothing left to say.
The world isn’t listening anyway.
**
But here. Here there is release.
Here on this page, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, I write.
In a clack, clack, clack, scratch, scratch, scratch, I write.
Words spill, splash, pour from me, onto the page.
Words, words, words released and running free,
stampeding from my mind, fingertips, every pore,
a force of glorious energy that wraps around me in cozy warmth,
fills the page with me in a soundless scream.
All at once I can be strange and awkward and stuttering,
say what I mean, mean what I say,
talk in circles and round and round until it makes complete nonsensical sense of this,
this beautiful mess of words and verbs and question marks.
Formed from thought, like clay, molded and laced and pieced together,
sentences take shape, paragraphs and pages, pages telling a story,
winding, weaving together in a vibrant tapestry of vision, concept, imagination.
A reckless abandon of flowing consciousness.
Where at last, at last
my voice can speak.
Here, here are my words.
The words are there on my mind in practiced rhythm, but speech falters.
Syllables get caught up on my tongue,
rolling over each other in a stuttering (repeating, repeating) mess.
I lose my thoughts and a deep red spreads up my cheeks
as I’m thrown into a twisting and churning sea of babbling nonsense.
I am strange, voiceless.
I cannot say what I mean so I don’t say anything at all and it’s quiet,
deafening quiet until ideas and hurts and passions and pains and answers
build and build and build
and there’s nowhere left to go but tearing out through my lungs
in one rebellious cry of sound and fury.
A loud cacophonous clatter of sounds and words and empty phrases
floating in empty space, meaning nothing, saying nothing.
They are lost. My voice is lost. There is nothing left to say.
The world isn’t listening anyway.
**
But here. Here there is release.
Here on this page, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, I write.
In a clack, clack, clack, scratch, scratch, scratch, I write.
Words spill, splash, pour from me, onto the page.
Words, words, words released and running free,
stampeding from my mind, fingertips, every pore,
a force of glorious energy that wraps around me in cozy warmth,
fills the page with me in a soundless scream.
All at once I can be strange and awkward and stuttering,
say what I mean, mean what I say,
talk in circles and round and round until it makes complete nonsensical sense of this,
this beautiful mess of words and verbs and question marks.
Formed from thought, like clay, molded and laced and pieced together,
sentences take shape, paragraphs and pages, pages telling a story,
winding, weaving together in a vibrant tapestry of vision, concept, imagination.
A reckless abandon of flowing consciousness.
Where at last, at last
my voice can speak.
Here, here are my words.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
A Toast to My Favorite Fictional Couple, ( in Which I Take Television Much Too Seriously)
And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story, when people ask how they found each other. I will see her every now and then, and... Maybe one year she'll be with somebody, and the next year, I'll be with somebody, and it's gonna take a long time... And then it's perfect. I'm in no rush. - Michael Scott, The Office, Season 5
See, I tend to live vicariously through television. I realize this borders on pathetic but I swear I'm not some crazy lady living alone with nine-hundred cats and newspapers stacked to the ceiling. (Only PART of that is true ). I do have a life but I also do LOVE television. I always have. I love the serialized plot lines and the wacky background characters and the weekly heartaches and hilarity. I love the cliffhangers and the tear-jerking series finales and special episodes. And most of all, I love the escape from reality. When I want to know what it’s like to be deserted on a freaky island that is skipping through time I can turn on LOST. If I want to get caught up in the intensity of high school football in a small town in Texas I watch Friday Night Lights. If I want to remind myself why I need to be thanking my frickin’ lucky stars that I’m not a woman in the sixties there's Mad Men. And if I want to experience an office environment ten times more interesting than my own, I watch The Office. With the simple click of a remote I am somewhere new.
In real life so many of these characters and situations would be obnoxious or irritating but on television, they are endearing. We can laugh at the peculiarities of a Sheldon Cooper and the womanizing ways of a Barney Stinsen. We can appreciate the brooding arrogance of a Tim Riggins and root for an evil-doer like Benjamin Linus. In television we are taken on a journey into the lives of these characters, we come to know them and their ambitions and wants and desires, their loves and repulsions and quirks. When written well - these characters come ALIVE.
I am so easily drawn into to the lives and worlds of these fictional beings. I cheer them on and want them to win that football game and find a way off the island and figure out who the bad guy is and win the election and find Earth and save the patient. And most of all, because I am an utter sap, I want them to get the guy or get the girl and find that happy ending. I adore watching love stories unfold, watching two characters meet and fall in love – again, maybe I’m living vicariously. But it’s fun to imagine a guy standing outside my window with a boom box over his head playing “In Your Eyes.” It’s nice to imagine there are guys out there who would buy you a wall or take you sailing for the summer, fly around the world to be with you when you've been hurt, bring you back to life even if it means never touching you again, profess his love in the middle of a parking lot or drive between two New York airports to tell you not to leave for Paris. It's over the top and saccharine and schmultzy... but I love it all the same.
From my earliest television watching days I have found 
myself sucked into these romantic plots, obsessing over the "will-they-won't-they" story lines. Cory and Topanga (he kissed Linda Cardellini at the ski lodge! Her parents moved! He proposed at graduation!), Joey and Pacey ( Stupid Dawson! Sidenote: the picture to the right will never not make me laugh. I include it because I can) and on through the years with Josh and Donna, Logan and Veronica, Tim and Dawn, Ned and Chuck, Starbuck and Apollo and of course, the ever adorable office sweethearts, Jim and Pam.
myself sucked into these romantic plots, obsessing over the "will-they-won't-they" story lines. Cory and Topanga (he kissed Linda Cardellini at the ski lodge! Her parents moved! He proposed at graduation!), Joey and Pacey ( Stupid Dawson! Sidenote: the picture to the right will never not make me laugh. I include it because I can) and on through the years with Josh and Donna, Logan and Veronica, Tim and Dawn, Ned and Chuck, Starbuck and Apollo and of course, the ever adorable office sweethearts, Jim and Pam.The very first episode I watched of The Office instantly drew me into the Jim and Pam storyline. It was Season Two’s Booze Cruise, an episode that remains to this day, one of my all-time favorite episodes of the show. In that agonizingly silent moment on the boat deck - the lights on the horizon glowing behind them, the cold January breeze blowing through their hair, looking so much like they wanted each other - I was hooked.
These were two characters that were so achingly normal amidst an office of chaos and crazy, the eyes through which we saw the hijinks of Dunder Mifflin Scranton unfold. I can look at characters like Michael and Dwight and say, "man, I KNOW someone just like that." But with Jim
and Pam I can say, "I've BEEN there. I KNOW that feeling." They resonate with the audience because so much of their story is the same story we know in our own lives. Terrible bosses, annoying co-workers, failed ambitions, lack of direction, suffocating relationships, unrequited feelings. It's universal. Jim's struggle with his feelings for the engaged Pam seemed to so simply epitomize the feeling of unrequited love that I believe most of us feel at one point or another in our lives. I rooted him on and watched with bated breath (in between the laughs) every week, wondering what would happen because, man, I've BEEN there.And now, after four seasons, we've watched them take this rewarding and satisfying and 
frustrating journey through her engagement to Roy and Jim’s sojourn to Stanford and subsequent return, his relationship with the purse girl and Karen, teapots and secrets and fabric softener and games of jinx, an assault attempt, a job interview in New York, art school, that guy from Mad Men, long distance phone calls and misunderstandings, the Dundies, Michael’s “dangling participle,” a failed proposal, promotions and new companies and pranks, a night at the Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast, a rain-soaked proposal and a surprise pregnancy. From the ache of unrequited love and parking lot confessions to the incandescent happiness of 
finding that one person, that one person that makes this whole thing worth it - I have loved watching this journey. These two characters are not perfect by any means but they are perfect with, and for each other.
frustrating journey through her engagement to Roy and Jim’s sojourn to Stanford and subsequent return, his relationship with the purse girl and Karen, teapots and secrets and fabric softener and games of jinx, an assault attempt, a job interview in New York, art school, that guy from Mad Men, long distance phone calls and misunderstandings, the Dundies, Michael’s “dangling participle,” a failed proposal, promotions and new companies and pranks, a night at the Schrute Farms Bed and Breakfast, a rain-soaked proposal and a surprise pregnancy. From the ache of unrequited love and parking lot confessions to the incandescent happiness of 
finding that one person, that one person that makes this whole thing worth it - I have loved watching this journey. These two characters are not perfect by any means but they are perfect with, and for each other.It is a testament to the lovely acting abilites of Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski, I suppose, that this relationship feels so real and organic. They have both killed some of the hallmark scenes of this relationship ( i.e. the parking lot confession of love) and I cannot even begin to imagine any different actors in those roles. The fact that neither Fischer nor Krasinski have even been nominated for Emmys is a complete travesty, a travesty I say.
And as a sidenote: I bow to the writers for not sticking Jim and Pam through a series of ridiculous breaking up and getting back together fiascoes. As much as I loved Ross and Rachel, by the time Friends went off the air, I didn’t care much about their on-again/off-again/on-again/off-again relationship. So Office writers, my hat off to you for never letting Jim utter the words, “We were on a break.”
So to the cast and crew, to the writers, and to Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski, I give my heartfelt gratitude for creativing such a lovely show and a couple that I can fall in love with and finally say to...
Happy Wedding Day Jim and Pam!
Thank you for six years of stories and laughter and entertainment... may your fictional lives be blessed.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Why
words without names
characters without faces
from the deepest cracks
of all I know
an idea
a spark
nothing…
nothing…
nothing…
lost
forever lost
with all these words
these faceless nameless words
the pain
gut wrenching searing pain
reaching where I do not want to reach
scratching the unscratchable
I didn’t know was there
a soul pouring out
screaming screaming screaming
laughing
oh the wonderful ceaseless joy of those inky scrawls
simplicity
flow
tumbling rolling thinking towards…
nothing…
nothing…
nothing…
everything
Butterflies
lightness sudden melting weakness
a flipping flopping fluttering wave under my ribs
brief feather light touch brushing smooth skin
inhale deep sweet air fills my lungs
heart pounding blood in veins pulsing rushing in ears
smile eyes lighting up the bubble of laughter
consuming warmth down tips of toes fingers clenched
knees tremble
words (you know) voice words words words
a pink spreads up my cheeks betrays
up through the roots of hair on fire burning
thought unbidden a secret a dream whisper close
eyes closed exhale
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