Saturday Speaks: Watery Week

Hands down, the best thing I heard this week was that my brother was okay after the flood incident.

The worst thing about this week was being sick... again... and losing valuable reading time in this intense low pressure system.

Friday Sabbath: Little Heart Attack

(Written yesterday afternoon...)

There are events that get blown out of proportion. The storm currently blowing through Hampton Roads is the storm that I will refer to as the Old Testament storm. You may ask what right do I have to say that? There have been storms that have swept along this planet strong enough to topple buildings, uproot trees, and kill people. I have read some of the most horrific stories in which people have watched their entire families drown before their eyes.

But, at this particular moment, I don't care about those people. Because all I could hear for several minutes on the phone this afternoon was, "Your brother's car has been flooded."

I couldn't notice the lack of hysteria in my mother's voice. I couldn't mark the fact that she wasn't crying or telling me to come be with her. For a ghastly, horrific moment, all I could hear was, "Your brother's car has been flooded."

Now, my brother is fine. Through a series of fortunate events, he was removed from his car by our other brother before help arrived to pull the car out of the water. Nonetheless, I know now that the water filled the car up to my brother's legs... that he sat there and watched the interior fill up faster than he could think. I think about how scary that must have been... and my heart seizes up.

I don't give a damn about that car. I know that it's going to be a load of trouble, lots of money, and that, chances are, it will never drive again. It was a tidy, efficient Impala with XM radio and a bunch of other crap that I don't really understand. All I know is that it took me the rest of that phone call with Mom and several minutes after to just shake myself free from the terror and contact my brother to tell him that I was happy he was alright. He thanked me, said it was his fault... that he should have seen the water even though he was driving at some ungdly hour of this morning...

...I'm horrified that most of us would say something like that. Once it's all status quo again, once things are clearly the way they always are and you're still alive, we worry about the stuff. The objects. The things that did not, will not, cannot ever be brought to the point of fear that its life might be snuffed out. Whether or not the flooded area could possibly come above your head, I know that if I had been in a car filling with water that I would not necessarily be able to intellectualize all that.

Little heart attacks like this lead me down a dangerous "What if?" sort of road that easily consumes a surprise day off. My brother is fine. He's home. Safe and sound and not going to work tomorrow. But, I still see behind my eyes all these horrible things that could have happened...

And at times like this, I want to thank somebody. Anybody. Our other brother. The Ft. Eustis soldier that helped pull the car out of the water. Even Gd, whose existence still troubles me, makes the list of people I feel like I should thank. I don't want to be one of those people that can find ways to believe in Gd through subjective irrationality... but in these flashes of terror for what might have happened to someone you love as tremendously as I love my brother, something bigger than yourself has to be acknowledged. I wasn't there. I can't put any credit on the human beings available in the situation, on their courage and grit. I sit here at home and try to erase the "What if" images from my mind...

My brother is fine. Gd may still not exist. But, I'm so grateful to someone, to something, that my brother is okay. I hear the sirens screaming outside, the wind batting at the window panes, and I watch the lights flicker. Difficult to calm my nerves in this environment...

You are so important to my happiness, John.

Thursday Kitchen: Playing with your food

There are crazy, bored, perhaps ethically-challenged people who create impressive, funny art from fruits, vegetables, and bread. There are a few children's books devoted to this sort of artwork and I recently found a site that has several recent-ish samples. Click Here to see the blog where I found the pictures below. I'm only including a few of my favorites from this site on today's entry.

I'm sure we could actually criticize this sort of art. With starving people in the world, maybe we should be offering this fruit to people rather than cutting little faces and things into them... but it's pretty impressive, isn't it? This batch of fruits and vegetables won't solve world hunger, but I'd like to think a donation of the proceeds from the books of this art to the hungry ought to exist.

That aside, I'm a big fan of this artwork... something that's not just a large dot on a canvas that can actually lift my spirits...

You've probably seen several images like this one. I just think it's so funny and yet, how practical! The artist made use of the bottom part of the orange to make this anguished, screaming face. He cut into the rind to make teeth and let the glowing fruit flesh represent the inside of a mouth. The other little oranges around the large screaming one are reacting in such a way that I can't tell if they're agreeing with the big orange or if they don't like the noise. And that sound is incredible- you know in your head that these fruits are not making any noise whatsoever, but the image definitely makes you hear yelling and gasping! It's just so interesting to me that anyone could take an ordinary fruit and turn it into recognizable facial expressions...

...or into a whole new creature. I guess this is some sort of cabbage or bok choy that someone has turned into gracefully swimming fish. You know, I just don't look at this stuff in the grocery store and think about fish. I probably will now, though, after seeing these lovely little coy.

This boule of bread means business! I like that the artist left the knife in the carved out teeth along with the crumbs that must have fallen out during production. Makes you want to believe that this "person" was inside the bread and determined to carve his way out!

It's just so sweet. I'm not big on pictures of puppies or little kids with puppies, but I'll say it about these fruits: it's just so darn cute. Who hasn't looked at the occasional oddly shaped strawberry and seen an image of some sort? I guess the artist has used black-eyed peas for the eyes, but I'm not sure what the other object really is... maybe a green tomato with the green pulled out? I like how it looks like the green face is puckered in embarrassment. So clever.

If you can figure out how the artist did this, please, don't tell me. This one is definitely one of my favorites. I like the idea of turning a fruit into something other than a face... into this surreal mix of a pear and a light bulb. If I had seen this as a kid, I probably would have wondered if that's how bulb parts are born... or if some pears grow things that can kill you if you swallow them.

I just wanted to share these amusing little pieces of art. These things make me smile no matter my mood. The whimsy of these transformations of the ordinary into the fantastic tickle me! It reminds me of things I used to do as a child... seeing images in those dotted and lined ceilings, wood grains, car fronts, etc. I hope you found them humorous, too!

Wednesday Valuables: Alone on a leftover hurricane day

It's good to be here. Good to be alone.

The rain outside seems tired. It streaks thinly at such a speed you can barely see it. It's come from such a distance over days and days. It falls heavily to the ground, against the buildings, in your shoes, assured that something will inevitably get clean.

I can close my eyes and just listen to the tapping of the water drops against the window. How reassuring to have a single sound on which to focus. Helps to calm the mind; to clear away the garbage that typically clutters the consciousness of schedules, disappointments, worries, and troublemakers.

And once this space is made, once the excess is cleared away, the most real parts of me feel safe to reveal themselves. The parts of me without labels, obligations, or guilt come out of hiding.

That's when I find I'm not alone. Those I love, those closest to me and this safe place of being myself, all seem to walk around in my brain. I am sometimes surprised by how fortunate I am that so many people live there.

The rain almost pants. The water seems to beat into the rooms of my brain. The shower reminds me of my wealth in love, the lightness of it, that seeps into the folds of my mind like earth and becomes a part of me.

I can be here alone, but I'm never without the people that have helped construct the most precious parts of me.

Tuesday Favorites: Childhood Dis-enchantments

So, in a similar vein to last week's disappointments, I started thinking about those things in childhood to which we were so very attached... only to rediscover them in adulthood and wonder what we were thinking. Naturally we are less critical as kids and enjoy things based on simpler concepts. Perhaps you liked Flipper because dolphins were your favorite animal... not so much because the show was well written or offered any realistic or educational material.

Anyway, I thought it might be amusing to ask others about their own childhood dis-enchantments by sending out a questionnaire. Here are the answers (My own being the first set in grey):


1. Any foods you liked as a child that you like significantly less as an adult?

I used to like these gross Mamba candies that were like bigger, mushier, more sugary Starburst. My father used to take me and my sisters to 7/11 where we'd purchase these hideous squares of teeth rotting sweetness and mold them into little animals before popping them into our mouths.
macaroni and cheese (except for *occasionally* when the spirit moves me)
I loved all food and still do!
poptarts, they have become too sweet
warheads, airheads
There are items that I liked more then than I like now, such as hot dogs. Loved them as a kid, rarely eat them now. Well, come to think of it, I did eat cool whip straight on a few occasions as a child, and obviously I wouldn't do that now....Yuck.
Butter mints
NERDS. I was so fascinated with there being two flavors in each box. You sucked them out of a soggy cardboard box and crunched them down. Only to experience the flavor for hours afterward because they were stuck in your teeth still. Yummy! :(

2. Did you have a favorite movie that you discovered in adulthood was not as good as you remembered?

The Last Unicorn... don't get me wrong. I still like it for nostalgic reasons. I even own it. But it's pretty silly. Bad script, unimpressive directing.
The Dark Crystal (Sorry to those who still love it. My family tried to re-watch it a few years ago and it was SO SLOW).
The Goonies
Sneakers, it has a great cast, but not well done at all
ferngully definitely
Hmmm...probably, but then, I have always had excellent taste in art.
Star Wars, the acting is pretty bad. Although I still love Star Wars.
I have a suspicion that one movie I loved would end up like that, but I haven't been able to find it again. Don't even remember the name. It was something about a group of young ants who had to prove their usefulness before they got their third segment. Weird...I know. I don't know that I want to see it again though because in my mind - it's glorious.

3. TV show?

Gumby. I think I liked the "claymation" as a kid, but it's so bad. So bad. Doesn't make any sense.
Most of what was trashy or bad I probably wasn't allowed to watch, so, strangely (since I'm not a big TV-watcher by any means), I don't have a TV show that I now think sucks.
Not really...
It pains me to say it, but MacGyver
scooby doo. I can't stand it now, so annoying
No way, the TV I watched truly was awesome--Fraggle Rock, for example, is amazing at all ages.
All That!
I think I really still like what I used to watch as a child. I'm lucky there since I am re-watching so much of it!

4. Was their a ratty or ugly stuffed animal, toy, or object (like a favorite bowl) that you have gladly (or humorously) left behind?

I had this chalkboard box that held magnetic letters and stencils to help you spell out words. I was more interested in that toy than being social... there's video proof. It was funny. I also had an embarrassing load of stuffed animals... I only have the lions now and a few sentimental gifts...
This is a tough one, as I'm told I haven't changed much since elementary school (still love books, Batman, and being strange). I have collected bats since fifth grade, and, while I still keep my eyes open for tasteful bat stuff, I have some rather grotesque Halloween decorations that I keep tucked away in my closet. (That's when you get all the best bat stuff...) Also, I was too glad to get rid of my bounteous quantity of scrunchies. In an instant, those stopped being cool.
Not really
I had this red hooded sweatshirt that was pretty ugly that I loved wearing as a kid...
I had an orange sweater that I nicknamed the "sailor sweater" that was my cousin's. She gave it to me when I was about 12 and I wore it, with all the holes and tears, which made it more "sailor on the dock" like I guess until I was 19. I should've thrown it out many years before.....
No. I do not spend time with them anymore, but I have never gotten rid of stuffed animals or toys...much to my parents' annoyance....
I didn't get attached to toys or objects.
Perhaps a dorky outfit or two. My mom made these crazy T-shirt dresses (T-shirt plus eyelet lace at the bottom equals dress). I thought they were brilliant and sassy. I think I might have been wrong.

5. How about music? Did you like a band or a song in your childhood (or, worse, your pre-adolescence) that makes you laugh with a bit of blushing shame now?

I used to have a record player... and, for some reason, I used to play the Ghostbusters theme song over, and over, and over, and over...
Offshoot boy bands like 5 and 98 Degrees. Backstreet Boys and N'Sync were legit. Anything else, not so much...
Crocodile Rock by Elton John. But I still rock out to it from time to time. :)
Ace of Base - first album I bought
Savagegarden and California Raisins
Not really. I think I still like everything I listened to when I was younger.
Hmmm, not sure I want to admit this but I did like The New Kids on the Block when I was in the 4th grade.
Ice Ice Baby, Dude! But I have to admit...I laugh when I hear it now but not out of blushing shame. I just somehow still...rather guiltily...love it.

6. Is there a place from your childhood that seemed grand or immense then that now seems small and strange? Have any of your favorite childhood places been removed?

I used to think my elementary school was huge and brilliant. It was brand new when I entered first grade... when I was maybe just over 3 feet tall or so. I went back in high school because the principle asked me to come sing. Everything seemed so shabby and tiny. I also miss the open field that was once Yoder Dairy that is now Barnes & Noble, TGIFridays, and dozens of other shops and restaurants.
Disney World. (I know: sad). I don't know if Discovery Zone has been removed, but it was pretty crucial to my childhood...
Our neighborhood grocery store is now a Family Center but when I visit it now I'm shocked by how small it is compared to my memories of it! My high school has been completely remodeled now and the neighborhood is much more developed. I'm surprised by how much has changed and it saddens me a little.
The water slide at the Wheeling Park Pool used to be huge, from what I know, it is still there
My earliest memories of America took place in a housing complex at Ft. Monroe that was blown away during hurricane Isabel. The only thing left of my house where I met my first "American" friend, a sweet Korean immigrant named Cecile, is the tree in the front yard that we both climbed and fell off of once.
Well, in a sense, the whole world seems smaller, less grand, less impressive. I was skeptical, questioning, and discriminating from my earliest days, but with age these qualities have only become more pronounced. Much of the wonder of things is thus diminished. Not so much with the big stuff, in my case--large-scale patterns impress me--but particular things are not so big and impressive. For example, most people see a particular play or opera or whatever and think it is overwhelmingly well done, but it is extremely rare that anything ever overwhelms me. Are they dim-witted or less sophisticated, or am I dead inside...or both?
Thankfully, not many of my childhood places have been removed. My father and I built an amazing (truly, objectively, quite impressive) fort in the back yard of my old house. It was a huge pirate ship with ramparts and a hull and a trap door and rope ladders. We built it from scratch and it towered 2 stories tall. We sold the house to friends and they finally took it down a few years ago. That is sad.
Monticello was much bigger when I was a kid.
My Grandma McCarthy's house was always so fascinating to us. Particularly the outside garden that surrounded a fish pond. When I was a child it seemed like a Secret Garden. When I walked through it several years ago it was still large but had lost its magical luster. A shriveled shell of my memory. The camellias not quite as full - the palms not nearly as tall. Now that Grandma is gone though - I would give anything for a walk through that garden...

7. Did you believe in Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, or The Tooth Fairy? If so, when did you learn your parents were behind it all?

I was pretty traumatized. I took things so seriously. I figured it out on Easter Sunday. I waited in my parents room... I was very creepy about it. I waited at the foot of the bed until my mother woke up and noticed me. She greeted me and I said, "There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny OR Santa Claus, is there?" She almost seemed relieved to answer my question. I felt so belittled... it was so condescending, to me, to take advantage of a child's innocence and gullibility to perpetuate a cute little lie.
I did believe wholeheartedly but can't pinpoint when I realized the truth. Mom accuses me of continuing to believe in magic. At least it clearly wasn't a traumatic transition!
I had an idea they weren't quite real but was in denial for a long time. Lucky for me my sisters were much younger so I got to continue the charade for much longer than most!
Yes to Santa Claus and No to the other two... an older Jewish kid told me there was no such thing as Santa Claus when I was 4, almost 5. I promptly told a Catholic kid and that caused a few problems.
I believed in it all, wrote them all yearly letters and made up reasons why they looked like my parents (they didn't want to frighten me so they shape shifted). I found out about E.B. and T.F. around 8 but held fast in Santa until 10 when my parents asked me to help them set up for my little brother. I would tell him fantastic stories and always had scientific-like answers to any of his doubtful questions.
I was about 4 years old when I asked Dad point blank about all three. I told him it didn't make sense and I didn't believe it. That said, I used to sleep under the tree on Christmas Eve and I would try not to fall asleep, because I wanted to see the proof for myself. Like I said, always a skeptic.
I remember believing in Santa Claus. I learned he did not exist on a trip to Toy's R Us. I think I was 5 or 6. I looked forward to loosing a tooth because I knew my parents would leave me money not because I believed in the Tooth Fairy.
I don't remember believing in any of them, although, apparently I did. I only recall one vague Easter when I could have sworn I saw the Easter Bunny hopping through the back yard. Seriously...I still can't explain that one. Perhaps it was so long ago that my brain is combining memories. "Childhood Me" is still convinced on some level that out of all of them, surely, the larger than life bunny with colored eggs is the real one.

8. Have you seen one of the kids with whom you went to elementary school or who lived in your childhood neighborhood in the past few years? Was it strange? Did you know it was him or her right away or did that person recognize you first?

I saw a girl once that I was relatively close to in high school. I was very fond of her. I bumped into her about a few years ago and she was very pregnant, not as cheerful, no ring. I didn't have the heart to ask her what happened... we both just talked around her huge tummy and walked away awkwardly. I hope she's alright now...
A girl with whom I went to middle school wound up on my freshman hall at William and Mary. That was weird but not as weird as you'd think. What *is* strange, however, is seeing elementary school people on Facebook and finding out that they're married, pregnant, now vastly overweight, or something.
I grew up in the same town from 4 years old on, so I recognize everyone right away and we always have nice talks and hugs to exchange.
I was in the 3rd and 4th grades with this girl... During my last year of college, I saw her at McDonalds, where she had been working for 4 years. It was strange. I recognized her and she recognized me. How do you tell someone that has been working at McDonald's for four years when you have spent the last years traipsing around Europe?
My first day of public school (in the middle of 1st grade from a catholic school) this little boy whose mother always dressed him up in Sunday clothes for school became my friend. We stayed friends throughout elementary school and never saw each other after. A year ago he looked me up on facebook. He looked like a stretched out version of the kid I knew and judging from our chat and messages, he was still the same friendly loving person he was in 1st grade.
Well, with facebook, the unwashed masses that went to my high school keep finding me and friending me. They are all married with children, fat, and divorced. How horrifying. They all know who I am, but I rarely have any clue at all who they are.
No
I ran into a girl that was one of my best friends in California (3rd grade) when I was in 7th grade here (Virginia). There she was just sitting in my Sunday School class. We hadn't kept in touch at all but I recognized her immediately. I don't think she recognized me though...It was strange. Surreal...Kind of disappointing. I think I remembered us being closer than we were.

9. How were you with the doctor's office or shots as a kid? Have you overcome any of your childhood fears in the health department or are you still bothered by certain things?

I was so terrified of needles as a child. One of my earliest memories invovled a doctor needing to simply prick my finger. It took five nurses and my mother to hold me down so the doctor could get his blood sample. The device used to extract a dot of blood, at the time, made a sort of stapler sound. I screamed bloody murder when I heard the sound. I'm still pretty immature about needles. I have to look away or ask someone to distract me.
I still hate going to the doctor's (though shots don't bother me in themselves). I had a ton of orthodontic work done as a kid, so I'm totally comfortable with anything involving my mouth. Though now I always associate soft rock and country pop (Shania) with dental offices.
I hated the doctor's office but had to keep a straight face because my sisters were always watching and I needed to be strong for them. Needles scared the tar out of me but I've since gotten over that.
I was raised by a doctor... so, I'm pretty desensitized to it all.
I hated needles and like the gom jibar of Dune, would imagine pain greater than what was actually inflicted. In fact, most of the time I started screaming and crying before the dr even touched me! I still can't see my blood drawn without a sick stomach but my fear of needles has subsided for the most part. Still hate the idea of blades though
I don't like needles, but they are never as bad as I work myself up to thinking they will be. I had reason though to not like needles as a kid. Once I was very sick and was hospitalized, and needed an IV, and the nurse was either incompetent or I don't know what, but she couldn't find a vein, so she kept sticking me over and over and over trying to find one. I don't particularly enjoy everything that is involved with physicals, but I am pleased to have health care now and look forward to having regular appointments.
I cried if I knew I was going to get a shot. Now, I just get a little nervous. Also, I cried when I went to the eye doctor. I had to go every year until I was in my early 20s because of my bad vision. The eye drops were very traumatic.
I never LOVED shots, but I remember the doctor telling me that, if the shot hurt, then I could kick him in the knee. Was tempted a few times but never did because I didn't want to loose the milkshake that I knew was waiting for me after my appointment. I think I was usually pretty brave though. Still am for the most part...I like to be alone. That way I'm not tempted to break down.

10. What was that one particular thing you were always "too young" to do that you were looking forward to the most... that turned out to be not as great as you thought it would?

I wanted to go out late at night... like the tortured writers and artists from books and movies, I wanted to get a drink and write in my journal or meet lots of interesting people... and then I did... and they weren't all that interesting...
Seeing rated R movies
I was so pumped to be 16 so I could drive a red sports car. Turns out my parents believed you should buy your own car. So, I purchased the more reasonable option; a white 1990 Geo Prism.
I was always too young to stay up very very late. When I went off to college, I found it fun to do just that. Now, I still like staying up, but unfortunately, I have to get up the next day, and do stuff. No fun anymore. Or worse yet, I have to stay up late, and I have to get up early.
Growing boobs.
Um...I guess I looked forward to driving, but that actually was awesome. I looked forward to seeing any movies I wanted without my parents, and that was awesome. No, little was denied me as a child and the few things that were turned out not to disappoint.
I wanted to be a ninja assassin. Now I realize killing people is not cool.
Shaving my legs and wearing make up. It's nice to be pretty and dolled up but sometimes - it's just an inconvenience!

Monday Review: Movie Theater Opera

I still think it's a terrific idea...

Someone has filmed the Metropolitan Opera and broadcasts it to certain movie theaters. This past weekend, AMC 24 featured Turandot by Puccini, one of my favorite operas (Thanks to Tristan who took me to see it at the Richmond Opera House maybe 8 years ago). If you think Turandot sounds obscure, it's not. You know the music, I'm sure (Nessun Dorma, click on the title to hear, probably, one of the most well-known arias - and keep it in mind as I discuss the tenor for our performance...).

A piece of advice: if you ever go to the opera at the movie theater, don't come in late with the assumption that you'll easily find a decent seat. I was so very wrong in thinking that few people would be interested in coming to see Turandot when other mind-numbing fodder is readily available on a Saturday afternoon. I tripped over about three people before I decided to sit on the stairs and wait for a slow scene or for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I ended up sitting in the second row... where the seats are built with the back at a reasonable slant to help you look up to the screen without snapping your neck off your shoulders.

The broadcast, apparently, is a live feed from the Met. At least, that's what I've been told... and I'm willing to think that's the case since the video kept coming in and out at inopportune moments. Sometimes the sound would cut out and you see these performers with their wide open opera mouths not knowing what glorious (or terrifying) notes they must be hitting. Once or twice the whole video went out for 10-25 seconds. It was about as annoying as it sounds, and you could here tongues clicking and sighs all over the theater.

Of course, the feed never had any problems filtering in during these rotten interviews. This woman would talk to various performers during Intermission and it was so obvious that she was reading her questions on a cue card rather than taking any real interest in the performers. She talked to the conductor, the lead singers, a few musicians, the prop master, etc. I just wanted to throw my popcorn at the screen (and, yes, eating popcorn while watching opera is... well, wrong... in a fun way... I think...).

The camera angles were sometimes distracting. Someone is very in love with his overhead camera... but on a crowded stage only works once or twice. There were also scenes where I would have liked to have seen the whole stage rather than focusing up the nose of an extra performer in the crowd...

The performance itself was fine. It was weird seeing the backstage hustle and set changes... Also, the performers came out after each act to take a bow. These things all broke up the mystique of the theater... you didn't get that feeling that you were there, observing private moments between people, getting caught up in the emotion. You might have wanted that... the actors were reasonably talented... but you get shocked out of the illusion.

The lead tenor was mediocre. He really reminded me of the necessary goofball that seems to lurk on every theatrical performance. There's always this one guy or gal who is just awkward. This tenor's Calaf will not blow you away. He's not terrible, but he's not great... which makes the applause at the well-known aria that much more frustrating. Similar to when you actually go to the opera house, people don't always seem to have any sense for real talent. In the movie theater, people started clapping furiously and I heard oohs and aahs aplenty... Why? Because you could say, "Hey! I know that song,"? Yeah, he made it through, but he also dropped a note or two and sped up the pace at the uncomfortable parts. To his credit, Puccini places this aria in the 3rd Act after you've already been singing your heart out for two hours. Still, I distinctly remember the tenor at the Richmond Opera House years ago performing with more gusto than this goober...

(from http://blogs.orlandosentinel.com)

The other actors were all pretty impressive. As usual, everyone loves Liu, the spurned love figure. It takes a singer with remarkable vocal control to handle this part. Liu sings high and soft. People tend to love her character and wonder why Calaf would be in love with this cold-hearted, self-absorbed princess who cannot stand the thought of being near him...

...and you're even more confused because Turandot is often played by... let's be polite and say substantial women. It's one of the most demanding roles that even most very accomplished sopranos will never be able to sing. So, Turandot, this dazzlingly beautiful princess, according to the libretto, is often played by an older, larger singer, than the tiny sopranos who can handle the role of the loving, selfless Liu.

This production's Turandot was no exception. She was, as a matter of fact, a brilliant singer, but she was also the typical diva. It takes some attitude to go out there and sing a part that rattles the seats in the back of the house... not to mention a lead role that you know everyone will somewhat despise. No one likes Turandot. Everyone tells the prince to do something better with his time. Even when he is successful in answering her riddles, earning the right to marry her, people advise him to run away, to leave the kingdom, and get a better life somewhere else. So, to withstand the pressure of these sort of circumstances, one must be tough and probably pretty in love with herself.

(from http://archive.operainfo.org)

I appreciate that a nearby theater participates in bringing opera to the masses. I really do. I assume these people figure it's cheaper than an opera ticket, you don't have to dress up, and it's closer to home. I like anything that brings fine arts to the general public. Even with the disappointments in the choices of the producers of this performance, I still had a chance to see one of my favorite operas on a Saturday afternoon after work.

Still, even with this innovation, I think opera might need to take a few more steps into this new century. I'm not saying we should not retain the classic way of performing opera, but the art could use some new sounds, new looks, new work. I don't mean updating it in the Romeo and Juliet sort of way (I'm gagging just thinking about that movie)... But, just getting more creative within the art itself to keep the art alive (rather than holding it as a past time of divas and snots with the money and time to know nothing about that which they are listening) would be a smart and intriguing move.

I won't substitute going to the actual opera house, but I like the idea of seeing the opera once per month or so with a Kids Pack and a comfy chair...

(The images borrowed for this entry do not come from the peformance I saw in the movie theater.)

Sunday Reflections: Drawing a Blank

I've been immersed in reflection, thinking, and writing this week.

Monday, our journals were due for review in my writing class. Tuesday, the toppling of a sort of hero caused me to relive my experience of meeting my favorite musician. Wednesday, I met with a fellow-writer publishing a book early next year who lit a fire under me to complete my most personal writing project. Thursday, I met with three good friends (separately) to catch up and discuss what's going on in our lives and then I posed as the model for my boss's Beginner's Yoga Course. Friday, I taught two classes, had dinner with another good friend, and, for some reason, finally became angry about something violating and terrible that happened to me nearly ten years ago. Saturday, I taught my morning class, had an interesting movie theater experience, and schemed a way to get Anya out of the house...

I just don't have room for any other thoughts. This week has been good, but somewhat overwhelming at the same time. After being sick for a little while, I dove full force into a more active, more emotional week. I've dealt with the whole range of great disappointment, to great relief, to comforting friendship, to maddening frustration, to fulfillment, to upset, to rage, to acceptance, to annoyance, to hope, to heartbreaking realization. It's just a little too much with which my brain has been asked to keep up.

I'm looking forward to Tuesday. Why Tuesday? I have absolutely nothing to do on Tuesday. I will probably do a little creative work and go to class, but those are activities for me, about me, and less about being deep or thoughtful. I'll be able to casually do the artwork portion of my journal for class and watch some pointless TV (well, not totally pointless... Anya has lent me a few intriguing movies).

I like my empty days. I'm probably pretty spoiled to have them at all, but my weekend is really Tuesday and Wednesday. So, my freest time occurs while everyone else is at work. A normal weekend is full of plans with the family, friends, catching up with assignments, going out, etc. My weekends are also like that, but I work, too, in between the free time of everyone else.

I savor my days to "watch the dust settle..." which reminds me of one of my favorite Fraggle Rock episodes. Boober just wants to have a "nice, quiet day." He has his cup of tea, he sits in his favorite chair, and he allows himself to drift off to sleep. Unfortunately, his "other side" comes out to play. Boober calls his fun-loving, wild side Side-Bottom. Side-Bottom convinces Boober to lie to a handful of friends asking for favors in order to secure his nice quiet day. Side-Bottom is looking for mischief while Boober wants his peace and silence. They both get what they want in the end...

...and even though I don't have a whole other person that steps out of me and talks me into doing anything, I feel that the silence of my Tuesdays lends for some of my best adventures. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, I can sink into my thoughts, dreams, wishes, etc., and enjoy the fantastical rush. I think about wishes I might have made on stars that I had seen... I try to always wish on stars, just in case I guess, but sometimes there's nothing in that moment that I feel I need luck accomplishing. That's when I try to wish for someone else. I send plenty of wishes when it's quiet around here and I can think clearly. I can elaborate on dreams I wish I could remember... especially if I'm missing someone. I'll go back to that person, have a new conversation, a new agreement, and go somewhere we either made our own or someplace altogether different.

I can clarify my wondering without distraction. I can sit in the living room, cat on my lap and my books and journals surrounding me, and for once hear myself. With no one watching me, no one to be for anyone, nothing to do but be with myself, I have the safety and space to really evaluate anything that troubles or puzzles me.

I crave the serenity of the blankest day on my agenda...