The highlights of my week include spending a day doing work I'd ordinarily do at home at the Art Café, dinner out with my favorite young mother, and goofing off on more than one occasion with a friend in another state that understands my hang-ups.
Also, an artist I respect wanted to take a picture of my g-ddaughter's little hands... it is so very touching when others see the sweetness and beauty that you see in those you love so terribly much.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Friday Sabbath: "In the windmills of your mind"
I've come across an old song. This happens with most things I really like- I'm usually about 20 years late hearing about songs, books, or movies that are brilliant and, inevitably, become my favorites. In the case of Dusty Springfield's The Windmills of Your Mind, I'm about 40 years late.
Now, most of us know Son of a Preacher Man, right? Well, this is the same lady. She was pretty popular in the late 60s, early 70s. While the song that keeps her famous was definitely in the Top 40, so was The Windmills of Your Mind. Upon further investigation, I found that this song was featured on the soundtrack of the original Thomas Crown Affair film, performed by Noel Harrison. Then I found out that the song won an Academy Award, an OSCAR, for Best Original Song in 1969. Furthermore, another one of my recent favorites, who I discoverd only last year, made another recording of the song in 1969; the incomparable, Miss Petula Clark (77 years young this past November 15th). As if I was not feeling behind enough, the song was translated into the language of the original composer of the song... of a FRENCHMAN, Michel Legrand.
I am so out of touch.
Here's Dusty Springfield's version if you haven't heard it... It's slow, but very pretty, and more emotive than the film version: The Windmills of Your Mind
Now, for fun, here's what turned me onto the song in the first place... because I am a big fan of this polypedal freak... The Screaming Thing reminds me so much of me: What the hey?
The Muppets are just so smart... but, that's another entry for another day.
Why does this remind me of myself? Can't I just get in line? Aren't most of us semi-normal people more terrifying on the inside than on the outside?
Thing is, I feel like I think like this green and pink creature... in strands of awkward, somewhat disjointed poetry. While many of us have thoughts that are, more or less, all over the place, rarely settling down to a stable, single thought. All my thoughts sort of sound like this. I can't just make lists or cuss people out or long for the seductive peace of the past... I mean, I do all of that, too, but in bursts of haiku or song lyrics.
Let's look at the lyrics to explain what I mean...
As you can see, it's not these thoughts are not all referring to the craziness we humans are lucky enough to experience in our brains, but there are so many different ways in which the song describes this condition. I am the same way... always thinking of more and more accurate ways to think of a person, place, situation. And more accurate descriptions inevitably turn to other thoughts that, maybe, if you're me, relate.
This has been so much fun for me... it's not everyday that you come across a song that causes that feeling... and you have to listen to it all the time for a month or two until the people who live with you threaten to break your computer. Anya and I found maybe a handful of songs like that in high school, when your emotions are heightened and sensitive from the naivety of youth. I don't think I've connected to a song in this way since... Hmmm... I guess it's either Lena Horne's version of I Concentrate on You or Tori Amos' Beekeeper album from 2005.
Music is infectious and esoteric in this way... for whatever reason, it gets inside you and makes more sense to you than you can say. It can't be one aspect of the song... we don't connect in this urgent sort of way with songs that just have a good melody, or if we just like the lyrics. It's a whole sensation. You can't really describe it... because the song does it for you, better than you can, though you very well may be the only person you know of who can hear what you hear.
Perhaps most of us are like this... pieces of music, unique and indescribable save only to be that which it is...
Yeah. Chew on that for a minute. If you're a song, how do you sound? It reminds me of a meditation I read... that you strip away all the "I am" labels. Statements like, "I am a teacher," "I am a bad parent," "I am a good cook," etc. After removing all those statements, whatever is left over, is pure You. Reminds me of a Fraggle Rock episode (yeah, got Muppets on the brain). Cantus, the mysterious minstrel comes to the Rock to inspire a Medley. Each Fraggle must take some and time and "find his/her song," the sound of You. Each Fraggle finds a tune in his or her head that echos who they really are. The result, when you're honest and true to your Self, is something like this: Just listen... it's amusing. Click Me!
For fun, and for my few French-speaking readers, here are the lyrics again as performed by the original composer of the music:
Les moulins de mon coeur
(Translated by Eddy Marnay; Click Title to hear it.)
Comme une pierre que l'on jette
Dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau
Et qui laisse derrière elle
Des milliers de ronds dans l'eau
Comme un manège de lune
Avec ses chevaux d'étoiles
Comme un anneau de Saturne
Un ballon de carnaval
Comme le chemin de ronde
Que font sans cesse les heures
Le voyage autour du monde
D'un tournesol dans sa fleur
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
Comme un écheveau de laine
Entre les mains d'un enfant
Ou les mots d'une rengaine
Pris dans les harpes du vent
Comme un tourbillon de neige
Comme un vol de goélands
Sur des forêts de Norvège
Sur des moutons d'océan
Comme le chemin de ronde
Que font sans cesse les heures
Le voyage autour du monde
D'un tournesol dans sa fleur
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
Ce jour-là près de la source
Dieu sait ce que tu m'as dit
Mais l'été finit sa course
L'oiseau tomba de son nid
Et voila que sur le sable
Nos pas s'effacent déjà
Et je suis seul à la table
Qui résonne sous mes doigts
Comme un tambourin qui pleure
Sous les gouttes de la pluie
Comme les chansons qui meurent
Aussitôt qu'on les oublie
Et les feuilles de l'automne
Rencontre des ciels moins bleus
Et ton absence leur donne
La couleur de tes cheveux
Une pierre que l'on jette
Dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau
Et qui laisse derrière elle
Des milliers de ronds dans l'eau
Au vent des quatre saisons
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
Now, most of us know Son of a Preacher Man, right? Well, this is the same lady. She was pretty popular in the late 60s, early 70s. While the song that keeps her famous was definitely in the Top 40, so was The Windmills of Your Mind. Upon further investigation, I found that this song was featured on the soundtrack of the original Thomas Crown Affair film, performed by Noel Harrison. Then I found out that the song won an Academy Award, an OSCAR, for Best Original Song in 1969. Furthermore, another one of my recent favorites, who I discoverd only last year, made another recording of the song in 1969; the incomparable, Miss Petula Clark (77 years young this past November 15th). As if I was not feeling behind enough, the song was translated into the language of the original composer of the song... of a FRENCHMAN, Michel Legrand.
I am so out of touch.
Here's Dusty Springfield's version if you haven't heard it... It's slow, but very pretty, and more emotive than the film version: The Windmills of Your Mind
Now, for fun, here's what turned me onto the song in the first place... because I am a big fan of this polypedal freak... The Screaming Thing reminds me so much of me: What the hey?
The Muppets are just so smart... but, that's another entry for another day.
Why does this remind me of myself? Can't I just get in line? Aren't most of us semi-normal people more terrifying on the inside than on the outside?
Thing is, I feel like I think like this green and pink creature... in strands of awkward, somewhat disjointed poetry. While many of us have thoughts that are, more or less, all over the place, rarely settling down to a stable, single thought. All my thoughts sort of sound like this. I can't just make lists or cuss people out or long for the seductive peace of the past... I mean, I do all of that, too, but in bursts of haiku or song lyrics.
Let's look at the lyrics to explain what I mean...
The Windmill of Your Mind
(Music by Michel Legrand, Words by Alan and Marilyn Bergman)
Round, Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain,
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
and the fragment of a song,
half-remembered names and faces
but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of his hair?
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
(Music by Michel Legrand, Words by Alan and Marilyn Bergman)
Round, Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain,
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
and the fragment of a song,
half-remembered names and faces
but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of his hair?
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
As you can see, it's not these thoughts are not all referring to the craziness we humans are lucky enough to experience in our brains, but there are so many different ways in which the song describes this condition. I am the same way... always thinking of more and more accurate ways to think of a person, place, situation. And more accurate descriptions inevitably turn to other thoughts that, maybe, if you're me, relate.
This has been so much fun for me... it's not everyday that you come across a song that causes that feeling... and you have to listen to it all the time for a month or two until the people who live with you threaten to break your computer. Anya and I found maybe a handful of songs like that in high school, when your emotions are heightened and sensitive from the naivety of youth. I don't think I've connected to a song in this way since... Hmmm... I guess it's either Lena Horne's version of I Concentrate on You or Tori Amos' Beekeeper album from 2005.
Music is infectious and esoteric in this way... for whatever reason, it gets inside you and makes more sense to you than you can say. It can't be one aspect of the song... we don't connect in this urgent sort of way with songs that just have a good melody, or if we just like the lyrics. It's a whole sensation. You can't really describe it... because the song does it for you, better than you can, though you very well may be the only person you know of who can hear what you hear.
Perhaps most of us are like this... pieces of music, unique and indescribable save only to be that which it is...
Yeah. Chew on that for a minute. If you're a song, how do you sound? It reminds me of a meditation I read... that you strip away all the "I am" labels. Statements like, "I am a teacher," "I am a bad parent," "I am a good cook," etc. After removing all those statements, whatever is left over, is pure You. Reminds me of a Fraggle Rock episode (yeah, got Muppets on the brain). Cantus, the mysterious minstrel comes to the Rock to inspire a Medley. Each Fraggle must take some and time and "find his/her song," the sound of You. Each Fraggle finds a tune in his or her head that echos who they really are. The result, when you're honest and true to your Self, is something like this: Just listen... it's amusing. Click Me!
For fun, and for my few French-speaking readers, here are the lyrics again as performed by the original composer of the music:
Les moulins de mon coeur
(Translated by Eddy Marnay; Click Title to hear it.)
Comme une pierre que l'on jette
Dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau
Et qui laisse derrière elle
Des milliers de ronds dans l'eau
Comme un manège de lune
Avec ses chevaux d'étoiles
Comme un anneau de Saturne
Un ballon de carnaval
Comme le chemin de ronde
Que font sans cesse les heures
Le voyage autour du monde
D'un tournesol dans sa fleur
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
Comme un écheveau de laine
Entre les mains d'un enfant
Ou les mots d'une rengaine
Pris dans les harpes du vent
Comme un tourbillon de neige
Comme un vol de goélands
Sur des forêts de Norvège
Sur des moutons d'océan
Comme le chemin de ronde
Que font sans cesse les heures
Le voyage autour du monde
D'un tournesol dans sa fleur
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
Ce jour-là près de la source
Dieu sait ce que tu m'as dit
Mais l'été finit sa course
L'oiseau tomba de son nid
Et voila que sur le sable
Nos pas s'effacent déjà
Et je suis seul à la table
Qui résonne sous mes doigts
Comme un tambourin qui pleure
Sous les gouttes de la pluie
Comme les chansons qui meurent
Aussitôt qu'on les oublie
Et les feuilles de l'automne
Rencontre des ciels moins bleus
Et ton absence leur donne
La couleur de tes cheveux
Une pierre que l'on jette
Dans l'eau vive d'un ruisseau
Et qui laisse derrière elle
Des milliers de ronds dans l'eau
Au vent des quatre saisons
Tu fais tourner de ton nom
Tous les moulins de mon cœur
If you get what I'm saying, and feel free to articulate, I'd be curious to know what songs are infecting the rest of you lately... What do You sound like these days?
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Thursday Kitchen: Tea Time
(from www.lucasart.net)When the weather turns cold, it's a warm beverage that makes it worth it to face the day. While I enjoy my morning cup of green tea, the afternoon coffee, maybe some mulled wine or cider at night, I miss my tea times...
Several teas after that brilliant first, we made an impressive blunder. We made a pot of peach tea, different brand, and went about preparing the proper cup. As we poured the milk, something happened... tiny worm strands began to form. The milk was curdling. Neither of us knew what we were seeing, and I think we were too embarassed to say anything, so we drank it anyway. This is how we learned to read tea boxes: If it says Herbal, you don't want to add milk.
I couldn't talk about tea without remembering a thermos in the back row of a boring French class... or in the teacher's lounge of the English department of W&M when it was still in Tucker Hall. Johanna and I shared more tea together than anyone else I know. It helps that she's not a coffee person, so that was always our beverage of choice. Even in summer we would just make iced tea. I could not even begin to count how many tea times we spent together... it is, quite possibly, the foundation our association with one another... tea time.
I have a favorite cup for tea at home. It's thin and tall and wrapped in the solar system. I don't use it often. It doesn't come out at dinners when I might serve tea to warm up my guests. It's only used when I finally have that cozy moment with a book, a blanket, my cat, and time to spare. It's like that sweater that's too big for you, but you like it, it's warm, and you only wear it at home. It's reserved for tea, so it's never stained by coffee; if I ever mixed the beverages, that would change the way tea tastes in that particular cup. I don't want to use it all the time... that would take away from how special it is...
...which goes for the beverage, too. Proper tea is not an everyday drink, an every day feeling. It's not casual like coffee... it's not a getting-to-know-you date option (Though I did have one guy ask me out on our first date by saying, "Would like to have tea with me next week?" Of course, I accepted... how often does a guy ask you to have tea?) Instead, tea works for a slow sipping conversation. An honest discussion. A safe place to be yourself. You can't have that all the time, but it's so readily available when you need it. Put the kettle on. Wait for the whistle. Add it to a pot of your chosen tea. Give it enough time to steep. Pour generously. The rest of the teapot is right there if you would like some more tea, some more time to talk, some more space.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Wednesday Valuables: A sense of decency: An allegory
Once upon a time, there were three brothers, Edward, Leonard, and Thomas. Now these three brothers lived in a great big house with their well-to-do parents who never had time for them. Mummy and Daddy were always very busy with their conventions, parties, and networking. The boys were raised in their youth by a kindly nanny, a feisty girl, who had tough criticisms but a great affection for the boys in her charge.
When these three brothers grew older, they went out into the world to start their own lives. Edward was the first to go and moved into a large, roomy flat on 17 8th Street. He married a wealthy woman and they had two sons. Leonard was the second the move away from home. He found a modest but comfortable apartment on 25 8th Street. He chose not to marry and instead focused on his studies. Finally, Thomas was ready to leave home. The kindly nanny who had raised him and his brothers asked him to stay in touch. Thomas agreed and found himself a very small studio on 36 8th Street.
Edward received a letter from his old nanny one day asking if he might want to hire her to care for his children. His wife decided that the nanny was not qualified to raise her precious little boys and ordered that her husband refuse her. Edward never responded to his old nanny.
Leonard discovered a laboratory in which he could pursue his work. He had permission to use the property, but he needed money to rent it. Despite the fact that he had not spoken to his brothers nor his old nanny in years, he wrote to all three and asked for financial support. Edward tossed the letter in a drawer and forgot about it. Thomas gathered money in a tin from the people in the neighborhood and sent a donation. The old nanny took out some money that she had saved and hid since all three boys were little and sent slightly more than she could spare.
Soon, Leonard was able to pay his rent and made fascinating contributions to his field. He became well-respected in the science community. Some colleagues decided to host a dinner to congratulate Leonard for his work. He was allowed to invite three guests outside the circle of scientists sponsoring the event. Leonard wrote to Edward, who replied insisting that his wife should come as well. Leonard agreed to this, which left him one more guest. He sent a request to his father, who he had not seen in years. His father accepted the invitation. No word was sent to the nanny or to Thomas.
However, weeks later, Thomas was walking back to his studio. He noticed Edward's wife on the street where all three bothers lived. He politely approached her and asked how she and his brother were doing. She sighed, but smiled, and told him that Edward was doing very well. "I was surprised not to see you at Leonard's party last month," she said casually. Thomas tried not to look surprised. "Edward, Leonard, and your father had a great time catching up," the wealthy woman adjusted her sunglasses and walked away.
Naturally, Thomas felt betrayed by this information. He wrote a scathing letter to Leonard. He also wrote to Edward, telling him how selfish, inconsiderate, and unkind he and his wife were. With all his hurt feelings and opinions out in the open, his brothers met his pain with silence. After some days had past, Edward purchased the building in which Thomas lived and had his brother evicted. Thomas gathered his few positions and moved from 8th Street to another town.
Thomas considered what had happened. He wanted to contact his old nanny, the only semblance of a mother he ever had. So, one day, he went to his father's house to ask what had become of his nanny. The doorman told him that she had moved away to work for some other family. He didn't know where. But, she left a note for Thomas. This is what the note said:
When these three brothers grew older, they went out into the world to start their own lives. Edward was the first to go and moved into a large, roomy flat on 17 8th Street. He married a wealthy woman and they had two sons. Leonard was the second the move away from home. He found a modest but comfortable apartment on 25 8th Street. He chose not to marry and instead focused on his studies. Finally, Thomas was ready to leave home. The kindly nanny who had raised him and his brothers asked him to stay in touch. Thomas agreed and found himself a very small studio on 36 8th Street.
Edward received a letter from his old nanny one day asking if he might want to hire her to care for his children. His wife decided that the nanny was not qualified to raise her precious little boys and ordered that her husband refuse her. Edward never responded to his old nanny.
Leonard discovered a laboratory in which he could pursue his work. He had permission to use the property, but he needed money to rent it. Despite the fact that he had not spoken to his brothers nor his old nanny in years, he wrote to all three and asked for financial support. Edward tossed the letter in a drawer and forgot about it. Thomas gathered money in a tin from the people in the neighborhood and sent a donation. The old nanny took out some money that she had saved and hid since all three boys were little and sent slightly more than she could spare.
Soon, Leonard was able to pay his rent and made fascinating contributions to his field. He became well-respected in the science community. Some colleagues decided to host a dinner to congratulate Leonard for his work. He was allowed to invite three guests outside the circle of scientists sponsoring the event. Leonard wrote to Edward, who replied insisting that his wife should come as well. Leonard agreed to this, which left him one more guest. He sent a request to his father, who he had not seen in years. His father accepted the invitation. No word was sent to the nanny or to Thomas.
However, weeks later, Thomas was walking back to his studio. He noticed Edward's wife on the street where all three bothers lived. He politely approached her and asked how she and his brother were doing. She sighed, but smiled, and told him that Edward was doing very well. "I was surprised not to see you at Leonard's party last month," she said casually. Thomas tried not to look surprised. "Edward, Leonard, and your father had a great time catching up," the wealthy woman adjusted her sunglasses and walked away.
Naturally, Thomas felt betrayed by this information. He wrote a scathing letter to Leonard. He also wrote to Edward, telling him how selfish, inconsiderate, and unkind he and his wife were. With all his hurt feelings and opinions out in the open, his brothers met his pain with silence. After some days had past, Edward purchased the building in which Thomas lived and had his brother evicted. Thomas gathered his few positions and moved from 8th Street to another town.
Thomas considered what had happened. He wanted to contact his old nanny, the only semblance of a mother he ever had. So, one day, he went to his father's house to ask what had become of his nanny. The doorman told him that she had moved away to work for some other family. He didn't know where. But, she left a note for Thomas. This is what the note said:
Dear, dear Thomas,
I'm sorry I could not say Goodbye to you in person. I had to go where I was needed. I wanted to assure you that I will always love you and think of you as my son. Remember, people can be thoughtless. That's life. Just keep in mind that most of the things that people do to hurt you have more to do with themselves and less to do with you. Don't let anyone else define you. Stay the decent person you have always been.
Love, Nanny
I'm sorry I could not say Goodbye to you in person. I had to go where I was needed. I wanted to assure you that I will always love you and think of you as my son. Remember, people can be thoughtless. That's life. Just keep in mind that most of the things that people do to hurt you have more to do with themselves and less to do with you. Don't let anyone else define you. Stay the decent person you have always been.
Love, Nanny
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Tuesday Favorites: Things I like to do alone
I know some people dislike being alone... many prefer the company of others. While I definitely cherish my time with family and friends, I take my solitude very seriously. Some of the things I will be listing below are things I like to do with others as well, but are particularly delicious to do alone once in a while.
1. Nothing
That may sound like a cop-out, but I feel like a slug if there's someone else around while I'm not doing anything. I like being alone in the apartment, with my cat on my lap, just listening to my thoughts, or the weather (it's really nice to do nothing when it's raining), or music. Without someone around, I don't need to put in a movie or talk... I can just be. Once a month, or once a week, this is just a great way to recharge my batteries.
2. Go to the movies
I get the most looks from this admission. Most people can't imagine going to the movies alone. But, for me, I like having no one to laugh or cry or comment sitting next to me if it's a movie to which I really wish to connect. When I was a Harry Potter fan, I used to go to the movie on opening day and see it by myself before seeing it with other people (made for a really long day when the third movie came out... had to see it four times in one day since people wanted to "see it with me"... I just lived in the theater that day). I didn't want other to hear all the reactions during my first screening. I was there to see filmmakers capture a story that made literary history. Sometimes I like to see really bad movies by myself... then no one knows I was there or would want to see such silliness. I don't do this often... but, once in a while, it's nice to sit in the dark by myself and just dive into another world.
3. Reading
No, duh, right? This is a solitary activity. But, I've been known to do more reading with people around than on my own. I'm either at work or at home or in between visits with friends. I like to make a big, lonely show for myself. Once, I was at the end of a book I had really enjoyed. I knew I would finish it the next day. So, I waited for David to go to work, then I made myself some toast with honey and a strong cup of tea, propped up the pillows on the futon in the guest room, and finished my book as the sun filtered through the blinds. When reading something I really like, something I'm just sinking my teeth into, I like to be on my own and making for myself a proper setting in which to enhance this already very personal experience.
4. Going out to bars or coffeehouses
This is another activity that seems to surprise people when I say that I like to occasionally go out to bars or coffee joints alone. I, of course, also like to go with other people, but when I'm alone, I'm more in tuned to the people around me. I'm also more aware of myself. It's an opportunity for escape as well as people-watching. Some days I'm fascinated with how different people can be, and other days I'm just being French and laughing at what strangers (mostly teenagers) are wearing or saying. Yes, that's kind of mean... which is why I have to do it alone and infrequently. I don't do it to feel better about myself (because you will inevitably come across lovelier and better-dressed people than you). I guess it's my version of Grand Theft Auto. It's a terrible game, right? You are supposed to steal things and kill people. My brothers play it to blow off steam from the stress of the day... and that's why I do the French thing and silently critique random people. I tried playing Smash Brothers when I lived at my parents' house to vent my worldly frustrations (I would beat the hell out of that little yellow rat, Pikachu), but I'm not a big fan of video games. When I'm not being French, I read or journal and enjoy something delectable to drink... just a nice way to spend an afternoon.
5. Driving
I do certainly like having company on some long trips... particularly if I don't feel like driving. Still, I do get the itch to drive myself far away... blare my radio... leave the windows down... and just GO. I get a lot of thinking done that way and whenever I get to where I'm going, I'm usually in a pretty good mood. Driving alone also leads to visits you want to make in private... like driving by my grandmother's old house. Once in a while, I get this urge to drive by and try to remember afternoons running around in the front yard with my cousins. Fortunately, so far, no one has ever been outside the house when I have visited... the lights are usually on, however, so I can imagine, for a moment, that maybe my grandmother is still alive and inside cooking or watching TV from her rocking chair.
The things I distinctly dislike doing alone include cooking, dancing, shopping, going to museums or music concerts, and taking walks outdoors.
What about you?
1. Nothing
That may sound like a cop-out, but I feel like a slug if there's someone else around while I'm not doing anything. I like being alone in the apartment, with my cat on my lap, just listening to my thoughts, or the weather (it's really nice to do nothing when it's raining), or music. Without someone around, I don't need to put in a movie or talk... I can just be. Once a month, or once a week, this is just a great way to recharge my batteries.
2. Go to the movies
I get the most looks from this admission. Most people can't imagine going to the movies alone. But, for me, I like having no one to laugh or cry or comment sitting next to me if it's a movie to which I really wish to connect. When I was a Harry Potter fan, I used to go to the movie on opening day and see it by myself before seeing it with other people (made for a really long day when the third movie came out... had to see it four times in one day since people wanted to "see it with me"... I just lived in the theater that day). I didn't want other to hear all the reactions during my first screening. I was there to see filmmakers capture a story that made literary history. Sometimes I like to see really bad movies by myself... then no one knows I was there or would want to see such silliness. I don't do this often... but, once in a while, it's nice to sit in the dark by myself and just dive into another world.
3. Reading
No, duh, right? This is a solitary activity. But, I've been known to do more reading with people around than on my own. I'm either at work or at home or in between visits with friends. I like to make a big, lonely show for myself. Once, I was at the end of a book I had really enjoyed. I knew I would finish it the next day. So, I waited for David to go to work, then I made myself some toast with honey and a strong cup of tea, propped up the pillows on the futon in the guest room, and finished my book as the sun filtered through the blinds. When reading something I really like, something I'm just sinking my teeth into, I like to be on my own and making for myself a proper setting in which to enhance this already very personal experience.
4. Going out to bars or coffeehouses
This is another activity that seems to surprise people when I say that I like to occasionally go out to bars or coffee joints alone. I, of course, also like to go with other people, but when I'm alone, I'm more in tuned to the people around me. I'm also more aware of myself. It's an opportunity for escape as well as people-watching. Some days I'm fascinated with how different people can be, and other days I'm just being French and laughing at what strangers (mostly teenagers) are wearing or saying. Yes, that's kind of mean... which is why I have to do it alone and infrequently. I don't do it to feel better about myself (because you will inevitably come across lovelier and better-dressed people than you). I guess it's my version of Grand Theft Auto. It's a terrible game, right? You are supposed to steal things and kill people. My brothers play it to blow off steam from the stress of the day... and that's why I do the French thing and silently critique random people. I tried playing Smash Brothers when I lived at my parents' house to vent my worldly frustrations (I would beat the hell out of that little yellow rat, Pikachu), but I'm not a big fan of video games. When I'm not being French, I read or journal and enjoy something delectable to drink... just a nice way to spend an afternoon.
5. Driving
I do certainly like having company on some long trips... particularly if I don't feel like driving. Still, I do get the itch to drive myself far away... blare my radio... leave the windows down... and just GO. I get a lot of thinking done that way and whenever I get to where I'm going, I'm usually in a pretty good mood. Driving alone also leads to visits you want to make in private... like driving by my grandmother's old house. Once in a while, I get this urge to drive by and try to remember afternoons running around in the front yard with my cousins. Fortunately, so far, no one has ever been outside the house when I have visited... the lights are usually on, however, so I can imagine, for a moment, that maybe my grandmother is still alive and inside cooking or watching TV from her rocking chair.
The things I distinctly dislike doing alone include cooking, dancing, shopping, going to museums or music concerts, and taking walks outdoors.
What about you?
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday Review: The Audio Book Experience
Twice I've used audio books to read class assignments. It's just such a refreshing and invigorating option... because I can get other things done while still "reading."
The first time I did this was about two years ago. I needed to re-read The Odyssey. I just didn't have the time for that, so, while accomplishing other house chores, getting ready for the day, or going to bed at night, I'd pop in the audio book version read by Ian McKellen... who was perfect. His voice held your attention in any section of the story even when the words did not... and that voice followed me everywhere on my cd player; it was like he was in the room with me. He might as well have been a good friend or relative staying over and telling me stories.
While you need the text in front of you to do real "in depth" reading, I felt I still retained information pretty well with the audio. The performance is key. It's a bit like the songs they teach us in elementary school so we can memorize the colors of the rainbow or all 50 of the states in America. The way something sounds will stick in your brain... especially if you're me. My chances of remembering things in the long term almost depend on the song quality of the experience. I still remember songs from 15-20 years ago, but I can't tell you the names of all my teachers or even some of my relatives that I see with my own two eyes once every year. I can memorize quote upon quote from movies or plays when the lines are delivered with character and enthusiasm, but I can't tell you what most people look like or relay a recent conversation verbatim. I need repetition and memorable sounds to retain information for any extended period of time.
The most recent audio book I needed to read was Barack Obama's DREAMS FROM MY FATHER. He narrates the book himself, which works. Not every writer should read his or her own writing. I know it sounds like the writer would have the proper inflections and whatnot for the feelings he or she wants to evoke, but not all writers have talent for performance. For President Obama, this is not a problem.
If anything, it makes the book that much more enjoyable. He's not a ham, but he changes his accent and his voice for a lot of great characters... I bet his little girls beg him to tell all the bedtime stories, because he has a real knack for active storytelling. He can make the husky man voices with accents from distant countries as well as the haughtiness of an opinionated female or the stereotypical African American male call-it-like-it-is speak. It's amusing... not only because this person is now President of the United States, but because he's really engaging and funny.
It's an interesting autobiography... one that needed to be written. While it is arguably a political tool, a text designed for creating a public personality, the author is also in the unique position of being both black and white, standing on an old dividing line, and able to relate to both sides. He is in an excellent position to bridge the gap between races as he tries to discover himself and affirm his confusing identity.
I was able to listen to the final chapters today as I cleaned out my mail, showered, organized my papers and bag for class, drank tea, ate, etc. It made for a really pleasant day. I think I'd like to order audio books more often to help with the noise factor. I tend to play reruns on the TV so that it's not completely quiet in the apartment during the day. I don't focus on the TV at all because I already know what's going to happen, who says what, and where all the punch lines pop up. I just like hearing another voice, other sounds, as I move about the place and do other things. With an audio book, I could actually listen to something new while not feeling the need to focus on a screen.
I know a lot of people use audio books for long drives. I like long drives, and I like using the excuse of being stuck in a car to just talk, to just be. I don't really get bored in the car. However, this apartment looks the same after a while... it's nice to invite another personality into the day-to-day tasks.
So, any recommendations for future distractions? Any other ways people like audio books? Anyone dislike them or feel differently than I do?
The first time I did this was about two years ago. I needed to re-read The Odyssey. I just didn't have the time for that, so, while accomplishing other house chores, getting ready for the day, or going to bed at night, I'd pop in the audio book version read by Ian McKellen... who was perfect. His voice held your attention in any section of the story even when the words did not... and that voice followed me everywhere on my cd player; it was like he was in the room with me. He might as well have been a good friend or relative staying over and telling me stories.
While you need the text in front of you to do real "in depth" reading, I felt I still retained information pretty well with the audio. The performance is key. It's a bit like the songs they teach us in elementary school so we can memorize the colors of the rainbow or all 50 of the states in America. The way something sounds will stick in your brain... especially if you're me. My chances of remembering things in the long term almost depend on the song quality of the experience. I still remember songs from 15-20 years ago, but I can't tell you the names of all my teachers or even some of my relatives that I see with my own two eyes once every year. I can memorize quote upon quote from movies or plays when the lines are delivered with character and enthusiasm, but I can't tell you what most people look like or relay a recent conversation verbatim. I need repetition and memorable sounds to retain information for any extended period of time.
The most recent audio book I needed to read was Barack Obama's DREAMS FROM MY FATHER. He narrates the book himself, which works. Not every writer should read his or her own writing. I know it sounds like the writer would have the proper inflections and whatnot for the feelings he or she wants to evoke, but not all writers have talent for performance. For President Obama, this is not a problem.
If anything, it makes the book that much more enjoyable. He's not a ham, but he changes his accent and his voice for a lot of great characters... I bet his little girls beg him to tell all the bedtime stories, because he has a real knack for active storytelling. He can make the husky man voices with accents from distant countries as well as the haughtiness of an opinionated female or the stereotypical African American male call-it-like-it-is speak. It's amusing... not only because this person is now President of the United States, but because he's really engaging and funny.
It's an interesting autobiography... one that needed to be written. While it is arguably a political tool, a text designed for creating a public personality, the author is also in the unique position of being both black and white, standing on an old dividing line, and able to relate to both sides. He is in an excellent position to bridge the gap between races as he tries to discover himself and affirm his confusing identity.
I was able to listen to the final chapters today as I cleaned out my mail, showered, organized my papers and bag for class, drank tea, ate, etc. It made for a really pleasant day. I think I'd like to order audio books more often to help with the noise factor. I tend to play reruns on the TV so that it's not completely quiet in the apartment during the day. I don't focus on the TV at all because I already know what's going to happen, who says what, and where all the punch lines pop up. I just like hearing another voice, other sounds, as I move about the place and do other things. With an audio book, I could actually listen to something new while not feeling the need to focus on a screen.
I know a lot of people use audio books for long drives. I like long drives, and I like using the excuse of being stuck in a car to just talk, to just be. I don't really get bored in the car. However, this apartment looks the same after a while... it's nice to invite another personality into the day-to-day tasks.
So, any recommendations for future distractions? Any other ways people like audio books? Anyone dislike them or feel differently than I do?
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday Reflections: If I had to be away from home during the holidays, Orchard Lake, Michigan is where I want to be...
I was still a big baby at moments this past week. At 3:30 AM when I was walking out the door to get to the airport, I whined and kicked and pouted just like you least favorite little nephew or cousin. When we finally arrived in Michigan, and the good doctor drove us to Joyce's house, I started to tear up a little.
I kept to myself in the back seat and thought about my family. It was noon-ish, so at least one of my aunts would be showing up and trying to help my frantic mother put things on the table or in the oven. About 12:45, we were just a few miles from our final destination, and I knew my whole family would be assembled around the dinning room table. Daddy would be offering the mealtime prayer. Our dog, Wendy, would either be sniffing at people's shoes or jumping on the screen door outside wondering why all these people who clearly had come to see her were all inside the house ignoring her.
I kept to myself in the back seat and thought about my family. It was noon-ish, so at least one of my aunts would be showing up and trying to help my frantic mother put things on the table or in the oven. About 12:45, we were just a few miles from our final destination, and I knew my whole family would be assembled around the dinning room table. Daddy would be offering the mealtime prayer. Our dog, Wendy, would either be sniffing at people's shoes or jumping on the screen door outside wondering why all these people who clearly had come to see her were all inside the house ignoring her.
As 3pm rolled around and I had been eating pickles and talking with relatives, I realized that my family was probably beginning to disperse to whatever other plans they had that evening. My mother was probably swatting the people trying to help with the cleaning process and conceding defeat to her equally pushy sisters. I felt the sadness dissipate. I had missed the family celebration, so, I could no longer feel left out. I took a shower to wash off the plane ick and we went to Thanksgiving dinner.
The house we went to for dinner, where Joyce's family meets every year for the November holiday, is ridiculous. It's right by the water and it's rather large with huge windows and a big kitchen. Some workers had been hired to help with the massive amount of food and preparations that went into serving over 30 people.We started with appetizers downstairs and moved upstairs to the tables for dinner after about an hour and a half. This is a very full family... kids, teens, young adults, parents, grandparents... The number was overwhelming. Joyce told me that this was an "off year" because there are usually closer to 50 people. Compared to my humble 15-20 relatives that tend to visit for Thanksgiving, it was easy to get lost in the crowd.
The next night hosted the same number of people at Joyce's house for a spaghetti dinner after a family bowling trip. Every year on Black Friday, this family takes up 6-8 bowling lanes and actually competes for a little Turkey Bowl Trophy. They have T-shirts and everything... too bad they asked me to join the game, though. I earned a whopping 73 points the first round and a striking 88 points the second round (bowling is not my game, as you can see). All the points from each team were totaled to find a winner. As you may have guessed, our team lost.
It was funny to see this family tradition unfold. This is a very diverse group of people with varying personalities, talents, interests, etc... and yet they are all willing to humor one another and hurl heavy balls at innocent pins together. They support one another and the desire to do things together. They are not a freakishly large family of want-to-be pro bowlers... just people who go along with family outings when they're all in town to promote their togetherness. They young people still grumble about the same old questions from the adults and the elders obliviously ask them again and again what they're doing, who they're seeing, what's in the future agenda, etc... so, they're like any other family. But they make up for the time they can't spend together during the year with more than just dinner.
I found that pretty special. My immediate family is pretty good about doing things together outside of holidays and dinners... but I wonder if it's possible to infuse any new traditions, special outings, in which my extended family would willingly participate. It just makes for a great memory and for a sense of security... that these people really are the ones who will be there for you when you need or want something. If you can participate in indoor sports together, maybe you can convince your Aunt Shirley or Cousin Ned to go with you to that museum you want to visit in their part of town. Even if it's not Shirley or Ned's favored interest, they went bowling every Thanksgiving, so perhaps they'll go to be with you.
It was even harder to wake up at 3 AM for another early morning flight the next day. I'm still paying for the lack of sleep. After we landed in Virginia, I went straight to the salon for a haircut. It's when I'm taken out of my typical surroundings that my imperfections stick out more prominently. I've been meaning to get a cut for weeks, but when I stepped off that plane it was urgent! Had to be done.
So, I'm wiped out, ten pounds lighter in the head, (don't want to discuss how much food I ate), and preparing for the next round of winter holidays. Being with Joyce's family for Thanksgiving lent me more inspiration than it caused me discomfort in being away from home. If I had to be anywhere other than my mother's and Anya's for Thanksgiving, I'd want to be with Joyce, Jerusha, Norah, Micah, Dr. Sella, Judy, Ron, Melissa, Ron, Arlene, Micheal, Susie, Lisa, Grandma Pearl, Grandma Fanny, and the rest of this lovely family visiting Orchard Lake this time of year...
The next night hosted the same number of people at Joyce's house for a spaghetti dinner after a family bowling trip. Every year on Black Friday, this family takes up 6-8 bowling lanes and actually competes for a little Turkey Bowl Trophy. They have T-shirts and everything... too bad they asked me to join the game, though. I earned a whopping 73 points the first round and a striking 88 points the second round (bowling is not my game, as you can see). All the points from each team were totaled to find a winner. As you may have guessed, our team lost.
It was funny to see this family tradition unfold. This is a very diverse group of people with varying personalities, talents, interests, etc... and yet they are all willing to humor one another and hurl heavy balls at innocent pins together. They support one another and the desire to do things together. They are not a freakishly large family of want-to-be pro bowlers... just people who go along with family outings when they're all in town to promote their togetherness. They young people still grumble about the same old questions from the adults and the elders obliviously ask them again and again what they're doing, who they're seeing, what's in the future agenda, etc... so, they're like any other family. But they make up for the time they can't spend together during the year with more than just dinner.
I found that pretty special. My immediate family is pretty good about doing things together outside of holidays and dinners... but I wonder if it's possible to infuse any new traditions, special outings, in which my extended family would willingly participate. It just makes for a great memory and for a sense of security... that these people really are the ones who will be there for you when you need or want something. If you can participate in indoor sports together, maybe you can convince your Aunt Shirley or Cousin Ned to go with you to that museum you want to visit in their part of town. Even if it's not Shirley or Ned's favored interest, they went bowling every Thanksgiving, so perhaps they'll go to be with you.
It was even harder to wake up at 3 AM for another early morning flight the next day. I'm still paying for the lack of sleep. After we landed in Virginia, I went straight to the salon for a haircut. It's when I'm taken out of my typical surroundings that my imperfections stick out more prominently. I've been meaning to get a cut for weeks, but when I stepped off that plane it was urgent! Had to be done.
So, I'm wiped out, ten pounds lighter in the head, (don't want to discuss how much food I ate), and preparing for the next round of winter holidays. Being with Joyce's family for Thanksgiving lent me more inspiration than it caused me discomfort in being away from home. If I had to be anywhere other than my mother's and Anya's for Thanksgiving, I'd want to be with Joyce, Jerusha, Norah, Micah, Dr. Sella, Judy, Ron, Melissa, Ron, Arlene, Micheal, Susie, Lisa, Grandma Pearl, Grandma Fanny, and the rest of this lovely family visiting Orchard Lake this time of year...
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