Coming

   Don't be afraid, Mom. I won't take up too much of your time. Sure, it'll hurt. But that will pass. And you'll be glad when it's over. You won't forget. You might if it didn't hurt. Pain has a way of becoming engraved in one's memory. It hurts me too, in case you didn't know. I'm scared too. But I don't understand what you're thinking. You press your hands on the walls of my world, palpating them to feel me move, afraid when I lie too still, sleeping, scared that I am gone.

   I'm here. I feel. I dream. I breathe. I'll come. Things will be different when I come. They won't matter anymore. Your old, cramped room. You think you can't go back there. But it won't matter once I come. I'll be tiny enough for you to take there. You'll be smaller too. The whole world will have shrunk. For a while we'll be enough, just the two of us. You won't think of him anymore. Why he never showed up. Why he never comes around anymore. Why he never calls. Why he never leaves flowers on your doorstep. Wildflowers. The smell of crushed grass. The juices on your clothes. That's all gone. A lot of things are gone. I'm not. I've stayed. I'll stay on. I'll come out of you. I came out of him too, but that doesn't matter anymore. He'll be excised, in a way. From you. And I'll have come. And stayed. It'll work. From now on. And you'll tell everyone when they ask, "Whose is he?" "Mine," you'll say.

   That's the way it's going to be at first. Then it'll change again. I'll be leaving. Becoming my own person. And you'll be hurt again. But don't worry. Everything changes. The pain goes away. Its edges wear off. And things work out. Don't listen to the whispers behind your back: "She's on her own." You're not on your own. I'm here.

   Don't worry. It'll work out. Somehow. I'm here. I feel. I dream. I breathe. I'm coming.

-- from You Do Understand by Andrej Blatnik

Book Overload!

Wait? Is that even possible? Nah.

Yesterday, my parents and I went to the Twin Cities Book Festival at the Minneapolis Community and Technical College. I think they were initially skepitcal about the amusement capabilities of a bunch of literary crazies getting together and talking about and selling books, but after my mom got a bunch of free stuff and an author signed the book my dad bought, they seemed to be very pleased with the event. Victory! I, of course, was pleased from the moment we walked in. A huge used book sale? (I spent only $5! Pat me on the back, please). Contact information for numerous publishing houses in Minnesota and the Midwest? Being surrounded by people that love books like I do? Yes, it was a great time. Plus, it was really fun to keep running into people that I knew. My world is small.

And to put icing on the cake, as we were walking back to the car, the church bells of the Basilica were heralding a wedding. We came outside just in time to see the bride and groom come out and kiss beneath the arches. Man, wedding bells really do add to the romance.

Well, I'm off to do some publishing company research and to start reading my new book of poetry by Li-Young Lee. I didn't realize this when I bought it, but the book comes with a CD of him reading some of his poems! I nearly peed myself, I was so excited. There's nothing like hearing an author read his poem, so much depth and feeling, so much power. I'll be sure to share some favorites!

Defying Gravity

My friend, Erin, and I went to the Orpheum last night. She won free tickets to Wicked. Oh. my. gosh. I had no idea what to expect, which is probably part of the reason I loved it so much. The costumes were gorgeous (especially the swirling greens of Emerald City), the dance numbers were unique and beautiful, and the orchestra was amazing (and loud, just the way I like it). Oh, and it made fun of Wizard of Oz, which greatly pleased me since I hate that movie.

But man! The woman who played Elphaba (aka the Wicked Witch of the West) had a voice like none other. Usually I prefer male singers over females, but she may be changing my mind. She kept growing in volume and power, and her voice seemed to be coming from deeper and deeper within herself. Like every word was wrenching itself from her soul. She belted out notes with a richness and passion I've only dreamed of hearing. It was truly magical. There were a few times when she finished singing that I wanted to jump out of my seat and scream and dance in excitement.

I feel adulturous for saying this, but that performance may have surpassed Phantom of the Opera. *gasp*

What a lovely and perfect night.

A Spot of (Japanese) Tea

Last night was the lantern lighting festival at the Como Park Conservatory. The afternoon was filled with Japanese music, dancing, martial arts, and (my favorite) drumming. I don't know what it is about percussion that gets me so excited. Perhaps because it's like a heartbeat. And Mu Daiko is more than pounding rhythms; it's a dance.

I was surprised to see so many people in the park, but it was encouraging to see how many people wanted to celebrate St. Paul's relationship with their sister city, Nagasaki. And the many anime characters that were visiting the park made for some interesting people watching as well!

At dusk, volunteers lit three hundred lanterns and sent them floating on the ponds (both inside and outside the Japanese Tea Garden). We wished we could've seen the lights in the garden, but the line was really long. What we saw was beautiful enough :) I only wish that people wouldn't have been so loud and obnoxious during the lighting. The lanterns are sent out in honor of the dead, and I felt very little respect in the air. Oh well, that's Americans for you.

Here are some fabulous pictures taken by Josh to give you a glimpse of last evening. I think we will make this outing a yearly one.

Ready to be lowered

Getting darker

Gathering at the end of the pond

Memoir Practice

"Now I feel a new power to write, the sentences just pouring out. I feel the books in a stack inside me. I have only to open them up, open myself up, and read off those words." - From Sam Savage's The Cry of the Sloth

How much I long to be experiencing these words, to be so filled with inspiration that I can't keep my fingers still! But I'm dry, and have been for quite some time now. I keep telling myself it's because I'm so busy, but really? My busy consists of a lot of sitting, dreaming, reading, watching the Bachelorette, playing with my hamster, and trying to elude boredom. So clearly, "busy" is not an excuse I can honestly use. You'd think with all this free-time I'd be wrapping up a novel! But no, instead I live off others' words and wish that I had written them.

I suppose I need more discipline in my writing life. Josh gave me a great book filled with writing prompts, but I've hardly broken the surface. It's called Old Friend from Far Away by Natalie Goldberg, and it's a great book; I highly recommend it. Let's see--why don't we do one together!

Give me a memory of your mother, aunt, or grandmother.

In Maine, Mom ordered lobster. It was fresh from the sea and stared at her from the plate. When the waitress set it down, Mom turned the plate with the tips of her fingers so that the eyes faced Dad. I was so fascinated by this boiling red animal that I could barely eat my shrimp. I'm surprised, even to this day, that Mom even attempted to eat a creature that, but for its being boiled, could've walked off the plate and snapped a fork in its claw.
Mom picked at the lobster valiantly with all sorts of utensils, laughing and ewing the whole time. The tail was good, she said. But then, she busted open the midsection, where the lobster housed its now-cooked dinner. The substances inside were grey and mushy, and a shiver ran down my spine. Mom quickly pushed the plate away, sticking out her tongue. Our waitress laughed.
Before the dissected meal was removed from the table, though, Darwin ripped off the antennas and made them dance across the table, sometimes swirling them in his water glass while he made sucking sounds.


Alright. Now it's your turn!

Sibling

Nature is our sister, not our mother--a parallel creation
that gives glimpses of a divine artist at work.

--G. K. Chesterton

Dreams

In my lifetime, I hope to accomplish many things. But more importantly, to experience many things. I firmly believe that art is born through experience. Below, I've listed some of the things I hope to do in order to enrich my life, and in return, touch others' lives through the art I will create.

• Travel to England and Scotland and soak up all the beautiful history and literary genius of that island. And sip a few cups of tea.
• Live in Kenya and go on a safari, learn how to make African art, and dance alongside the lovely people who love God like I do.
• Travel to France to expand my French-speaking skills, stroll the halls of the Louvre, and experience romance the Parisian way.
• Visit Rome (well, all of Italy) because of its rich roots in the Western World. The art is incredible, and the language is sexy.
• Go to Australia and scuba dive (or snorkel) in the Great Barrier Reef. Where else could you go to see every color God created?
• Ride a hot air balloon over crisp autumn leaves.
• Hang glide down a mountain.
• Learn to waterski.
• Master archery. There will always be a part of me that will pretend to be a great warrior woman from the past.
• Go white-water rafting.
• Ride an ostrich. Ever since I saw Swiss Family Robinson as a child, I've wanted to do this. I have no idea where it could happen, but I can assure you that if the opportunity arises, I'll be on that bird!
• Gallop a horse on the surf of a pristine beach. Romantic much?
• Have an old-fashioned picture taken of me as a Western saloon girl. Gotta let that girl come out some time!
• See Josh Groban in concert. These are the only tickets I'd ever camp out for.
• Adopt a child, hopefully from an African country. I want to learn that child's culture and incorporate it into our American life so that he/she will never forget his/her heritage.
• Publish a book. Could be of my adventures. Could be a story for children. Just something that another person will hold and smell and find inspiration.

Literature Condo

Remember how I had far too many books and no place to keep them? Well, here it is, boys and girls, the new beauty that lives in our bedroom:

My parents helped me pick it up from the store last night. Thankfully, we got it inside before it started raining too hard. Isn't it lovely? Five feet of pure literature. Naturally, I proceeded to spend the rest of the evening organizing, paging through, and reorganizing all my books. And I couldn't believe that by the time I was done, I still had three books without a home! *sigh* Guess I don't have any more excuses to buy more. Until we have a house with a library, that is ;)

Once the books were all smiling at me from their alphabetical (by author) orderliness, I just stood there and stared at them, smiling uncontrollably. I love being able to see all their titles clearly, to be able to pull them out and look at them without a whole pile tumbling down. And I love advertising my literary taste. :) 

I couldn't wait for Josh to get home, because I wanted him to bounce around in excitement with me. But he didn't have the same intensity of emotion. Therefore, I had a dance party with myself.

Owl City Revisited

Little else can be said about the beauty of Owl City's lyrics (see my previous post for more details). Here I've written out the words to my very favorite song of his, but like I've said before, you really have to hear it to get the full effect. His synthesized notes and sweet melodies make this love song that much more endearing. I've italicized my favorite lines, the ones that carry a lot of poetic weight and make me sigh in contentment.

Vanilla Twilight

The stars lean down to kiss you,

and I lie awake and miss you.

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.

Cause I’ll doze off safe and soundly,

but I’ll miss your arms around me.

I’d send a postcard to you, dear, cause I wish you were here.

I’ll watch the night turn light blue,

but it’s not the same without you,

because it takes two to whisper quietly.

The silence isn’t so bad, till I look at my hands and feel sad,

cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.

I’ll find repose in new ways, though I haven’t slept in two days,

cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone.

But drenched in vanilla twilight, I’ll sit on the front porch all night

waist deep in thought, because when I think of you

I don’t feel so alone.

As many times as I blink,

I’ll think of you

tonight.

When violet eyes get brighter and heavy wings grow lighter,

I’ll taste the sky and feel alive again.

And all to get the world that I knew, that I swear I won’t forget you.

Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past,

I’d whisper in your ear,

“Oh, darling, I wish you were here.”

Today

What ever happened to living in the present? Our fast-paced society almost makes the endeavor impossible. Josh just told me that Apple will soon be doing their "Back to School" campaign. Before school is even let out for the summer. Can it get any more depressing than that?


We spend so much time looking forward to future things that we miss seeing things in the moment. I wish I wasn't guilty of this. I wish I could enjoy five course meals and spend two hours at lunch with friends like the French do. I wish I didn't carry a watch and did things as and when I felt like doing them. I wish I walked more places rather than flew past them on the freeway. I wish I could relax and think for long periods of time without having the impulse--or fear?--to do something or be somewhere else. I think I'd be a better writer. I know I'd be a better person, have richer experiences and deeper relationships. But is it too late to change? And how can it even be done?

A Perk to the Allergies

Thanks to my allergy pills, I've been having some beautifully vivid and colorful dreams! My favorite (and the one that makes the most sense to explain) happened last night and was strongly influenced by the Discovery series Life. Luckily, we don't have to watch the version with Oprah as the narrator; we get the British one, which makes the series seem that much more educational. :) As a result, my dream was about some exotic (and purely fictional) creatures in their natural habitats, complete with a British narrator. When I first woke up, I really believed those animals existed! And I must admit, I'm sad they don't. So, without further ado, let me describe, in the best way that I can, the brilliant pictures in my sleeping head.

The two main subjects are a hummingbird of some sort and a really fancy flying insect. Strangely enough, they both like the same kind of food--a water lily-type plant--and both happen upon the flower at the same time. Since the bird and the insect are roughly the same size, it's not obvious who will win this argument, so they resort to a unique way of fighting. (Keep in mind that the action is described in an intellectually-charged British accent.)

The bird lands in the water and begins the dispute by lifting a perfectly rounded and glistening water droplet out of the pond. He tosses it in the air and it turns into a bubble. The insect lands in the water as well and begins his own bubble making. It doesn't take long for us to realize that the insect has a much more impressive display. The bird, frustrated and not ready to give up, puffs himself up so that he appears twice as large and closely resembles a fragile glass Christmas ornament. He is a very stunning creature when he accomplishes this feat; however, it will take a few moments for him to deflate and thus be able to fly again, so it is in these moments that he is the most vulnerable to the predators from below. Unfortunately, his grandest display has not won him the flowery food, for more insects have gathered and are laying claim to it. Dejected, the bird swims away and waits to deflate.

Why?!

I almost gagged when I heard that the makers of Facing the Giants and Fireproof had a new movie. This one, called Letters to God, is exactly that. This review from Entertainment Weekly says it all:

"A bland, pious yet touching faith-based tearjerker. In Letters to God, nine-year-old Tyler (Tanner Maguire) suffers from brain cancer (he's had 30 radiation treatments), but he's as upbeat as Shirley Temple. He fuels his spirit by writing letters to God, which inspires an alcoholic mailman (Jeffrey Johnson) to rediscover his faith. There are so many characters basing their actions on what Jesus would do that Jesus just about deserves a co-screenwriting credit."

I have never laughed out loud from a movie review before. But it makes me sad to know that it's my faith and my God that is the butt of the joke.

Now, I don't remember much about Facing the Giants because I hated it so much, but I do remember the poor, poor quality of Fireproof. The storytelling was too pat and predictable, the character development was extremely lacking, and the script was horrible--no one talks like that. I also seem to remember that, in order to ensure that there was an adequate conversion scene and so we could clearly see how the man's life was changed, we had to suffer through another random plot right at the end of the story. Some of my fellow Christians called it a "plot-twist," but let me assure you, that is not was it was. It was completely unnecessary, didn't fit with the movie AT ALL, and added about thirty more minutes to an already painfully long movie.

I understand that it's exciting when Christians get movies into theaters, that we have the opportunity to share our beliefs. But have you ever stopped to think about who is actually going to see these movies? Yeah. Christians. Christians supporting Christians who believe they're actually making a difference and reaching out to nonbelievers. If I was a nonbeliever, I would in no way be enticed to watch one of those movies. Sap and feel-good sensations do not sell in the real world. The real world is harsh and ugly. Why can't we Christians understand that? Why do we think that the only way to present our beliefs is through blatantly obvious avenues? There is such a thing as subtlety. There is such a thing as theme.

For example, the movie Atonement, though not a "Christian film" (and to be honest, it would probably be frowned upon in many Christian circles), taught me more about the meaning of "atonement" than anything I've ever read or seen before. It was done in such a beautiful way, and because I'm smart (which I fear many Christians don't assume of people), I'm able to tie that newly-discovered definition to Christ's atoning sacrifice. My faith has been enhanced and my mind has not been watered-down.

Now, let's talk about The Passion of the Christ. Mel Gibson had the right idea. His movie was raw and brutal and truthful. And millions of people watched it, not just Christians. The life (and death) of Christ was not a pretty thing, it was not without its complications. So what makes us think we can dumb down God's message so people "understand" it better? People understand heartache and tribulation and pain. Shouldn't we reach out to them from those raw emotions? Don't you think we should show truth through things that will stand the test of time? Don't you think mediocrity breaks His heart?

Memory Loss

On Nightline, they interviewed a man who had slipped in the bathroom and hit his head in such a way that he lost ALL his memories. All 46 years. I can't even imagine that. When he woke up in the hospital, he noticed a beautiful lady standing next to him and figured she knew him because she kept hugging and kissing him. When he was brought home, he walked into a closet and because the clothes appeared to fit him, he figured he must live there.

For the past year, his wife has gone through their photo albums and video recordings with him, explaining each person and each event. Nothing has triggered a memory spark, not even his wedding video or pictures of his child. How sad! He is reliving his life through someone else's eyes. I wonder if he'll ever be able to grasp who he used to be.

On a good note--if anything relating to losing your entire life can be good--he is experiencing incredible days of discovery and adventure. He's basically a one year old in an adult body, needing holidays, food, and animals explained to him. To his family, he brings a new sense of wonder to everyday things. But at a great cost.

What was most heartbreaking to me was when they interviewed his wife and she said, "We didn't just lose all his memories. We lost all our memories together, everything our marriage was built on. I have no one to share those experiences with anymore."

Maybe this doesn't strike a cord with everyone, but to me, this--and all memory-loss illnesses--is one of the most frightening and miserable things that could happen to a person. Being a writer, I rely on my memory, my experiences and observations. I treasure them. Without them, I am nothing, I can do nothing, I can create nothing. And being helpless in my own body terrifies me. That's why the movie Atonement resonates so deeply with me. I must write to remember, and I must remember to write.

The Poetic Genius of Owl City

It's hard to put into words what really makes me love Owl City's music so much. Perhaps it has something to do with its bouncy melodies, its innocent themes, and its simple poetry. Take his Hot Air Balloon song, for example (I've included the lyrics below for you, but in order to get the full effect of the song, you must listen to it). What a simple and lovely piece celebrating the exhilaration of imagination! He even addresses its unpredictable and spirited nature with the line "I can't wait to kiss the ground wherever we touch back down." 

Shouldn't that be how we live our lives? Enjoying the ride and the view but always excited for the moment we land and start new adventures?

Hot Air Balloon

We wrote a prelude to our own fairy tale

and bought a parachute at a church rummage sale.

And with a mean sewing machine and miles of thread,

we sewed the day above L.A. in navy and red.

We wound the racetrack through your mom’s kitchen chairs,

and fought the shadows back down your dark basement stairs,

lit a match and let it catch to light up the room,

and then you yelled as we beheld an old maroon hot air balloon.

(chorus) 

I’ll be out of my mind and you’ll be out of ideas pretty soon,

so let’s spend the afternoon in a cold hot air balloon.

Leave your jacket behind. Lean out and touch the treetops over town.

I can’t wait to kiss the ground wherever we touch back down.

We drank the Great Lakes like cold lemonade,

and both got stomach aches, sprawled out in the shade.

So bored to death you held your breath and I tried not to yawn.

You make my frown turn upside down and now my worries are gone.

(chorus)

Why I love country music

Let me count the ways...

1. No other country can claim this kind of music. It's purely American!

2. It reminds me of summertime and all things green. It's been with me during spring cleaning, garage sales, volleyball practice, and horseback riding. And there's nothing like a sunny day with the car windows rolled down and a great country song on the radio.

3. It always evokes some kind of emotion. How can you not laugh when guys sing about tractors and corn and riding bulls? How can you not feel warm and fuzzy when love is expressed in simple, yet lovely terms? And how can you not tap your foot to a good fiddle beat or swoon to an acoustic guitar?

For me, though, it's usually the lyrics that get to me, especially the lyrics that make me think. Here is the chorus from one of my new favorite songs by Rodney Atkins: "The river don't talk. The river don't care where you've been, what you've done, why it is you're standing there. It just rolls on by, whispering to your soul. It's gonna be alright. The river just knows." What a great song about healing and growing and coming home.

4. A lot of songs speak of God; in fact it seems to be one of the few secular areas where it's acceptable to do that. I am very proud of country artists who are not afraid to share their faiths. Josh Turner is my favorite in this category (besides the fact that he has a mesmerizing bass vocal range). His song Long Black Train, which talks about the enticement and dangers of sin and about the victory we have in the Lord, was his first big hit. How cool is that?

And take these beautiful words from Dierks Bentley's Prodigal Son's Prayer: "Father lead me down to the river, wash me in the water till I'm whiter than snow. I know I'm not worthy, but tell me there's mercy for the wandering soul." This song is a great reminder of our shortcomings and of His love.

4. And lastly, but definitely not leastly, it involves cowboys :)

Photo from The Pioneer Woman

Creativity with violins = love

To commemorate Vivaldi's 334th birthday and the creation of the Four Seasons Suite, Google decorated themselves in this way:

Happiness :D

This library is officially one of the coolest ones I've ever seen. Doesn't that just entice you to walk inside? And guess what? It's in Kansas City, Missouri. Believe me, I will go there someday :)

Olympics 2010

Ice dancing is now my new favorite sport. The way the dancers tie their movements, their costumes, and their music together is so movingly artistic that at some points, I swelled with emotion. I don't know much about dancing, but I know that there were some beautiful lines and complex--though deceptively simple-looking--moves being presented. The sport is so romantic and theatrical, it's a little strange that it is a sport. But I am so pleased to see art represented in the Olympics and in such a lovely way! Here are my favorites from the free dance night.

Jana Khokhlova and Sergei Novitski of Russia 

dancing to Stravinski's Firebird Suite

Meryl Davis and Charlie White of USA

dancing to Phantom of the Opera

(Please note: I will someday have a dress like that)

Good Taste

Yesterday, I thought I'd expose the little munchkin I nanny to some quality music, so I brought The Phantom of the Opera. I sang along with the movie while she was eating. It took her much longer to devour that bottle, because she kept smiling and giggling. Now there's a little girl who is off to a great start musically! I have to admit, she made me proud :) Any suggestions on other musical selections I should bring her?

Lost Upset

*disclaimer: I will be talking about some of the things from the latest season of Lost.*

Oh, LOST, how I love thee. Except now that you're messing with my mind in ways I never thought possible. Apparently, after Juliet set off the hydrogen bomb, we now have two alternate realities going on at the same time--one on the island in present day and one back on the plane (that doesn't crash this time). At first, I was like, "Yay! Now none of my favorite characters actually die!" But then, as we are introduced to the beloved characters again, we see them as they used to be, before the island changed them. I was not so excited anymore.

Take Charlie, for example, my all-time favorite character. I was ecstatic to hear that he would be coming back to the show, because, I mean, why couldn't he come back to life? This is LOST we're talking about. But he wasn't the Island Charlie; he was Plane Charlie, the heroine addict who hated the world. I was devastated for his character, and I realized that, though the Island ultimately killed him, it was necessary for him to have been there. It was where he struggled to overcome his drug addiction and where he met Claire. His relationship with her and her baby (affectionately known as "Turniphead") was monumental and endearing. Seeing Charlie grow into a caring and functioning human being throughout the seasons made me love him all the more and made his death that much more heartbreaking. But not as heartbreaking as it was to see him back where he started, barely recognizable.

And let's talk about Sun and Jin, the Korean couple who had many things--family struggles, work issues, infertility--going against them before the crash. Their time on the island taught them how to relate to each other as a couple. No outside restraints, no cultural dictations. Just them. Watching them rediscover their love and respect for each other was so very beautiful. And the fact that the island "gave" them a baby was the icing on the cake. Everything was going so well. Until they were separated by space and time. Talk about another one of those super emotional episodes, the one where we think Jin has just been blown up on the freighter and Sun screams in agony. Still gives me chills. So, you'd think that with the new season, I'd be excited to see them back together. Au contraire! There they were on the airplane, Sun dreaming of the love she wished she knew and Jin scolding her for being immodest and headstrong. The old walls were intact, the old bitterness brewing, the old regrets lingering. Not what I wanted for them.

But with LOST, all this "old character" business could be an illusion. Or a way to show us how sometimes bad things happen to serve greater purposes. If it's the latter, then the writer's are geniuses. And also very daring. I couldn't imagine putting a character I created through difficulties and growing pains only to put them right back in the problem again. All that hard work of redeeming the character going to waste! Yikes! I wonder if I should try it sometime, though, just to see what it feels like...