Today was, by many counts, not a good day. I couldn't get to sleep last night before midnight, and I had to wake up at 5:00 this morning in order to keep the family on schedule to leave our house at 6:00 in order to get to the airport at least an hour and a half before our flight. I woke up at 5:00, and I haven't really recovered from it [citation: my Twitters]. My iPod's battery was draining unusually quickly all day, but that didn't really play into any kind of music shortage, so I guess that's a wash. I was considerably cranky, though. Maybe that's in anticipation for things to come tonight, which can probably decide whether or not the rest of the week goes well at all.
I wanted to have a book purchased and in the process of being read this week, but Borders closed too early for me to get it last night and none of the "bookstores" we visited in any of the airports had it. The last bookstore was just terrible (A Better You is both fiction AND mystery, but by no means is it self-help), and I gave up hope of finding the book there when the guy behind the counter said "I don't know, go check" when I asked him if they had it. I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT!
If there's one definitively good thing to come from this day, it's that I wrote another song while I was on the plane. It has a sound and subject matter basically inspired by the soundtrack to Juno. Now I just need somebody who can play acoustic guitar.
I bought a pair of trunks and shades here, since I couldn't find either of said article back at home. I also set up my phone (which has unlimited texts now) for Twitter. So now even if I don't have a working Wi-Fi connection, I have a link to the Internet. My friends shan't be left entirely clueless about what's going on while I'm here. In the meantime, these journals will chronicle the goings-on in more depth than the updates I am able to provide. I'll post these as soon as I can, and in a manner that keeps my tubes to the Sphere uncluttered.
Wednesday, May 28
Sunday, May 25
Chanticleer
My sister is in a show in Council Bluffs, at the Chanticleer theatre. She plays Cha Cha in Grease, which suits her as a dancer, but the fact that all of the other characters call her "gorilla" doesn't quite work in my mind. A 5'4", 100 pound gorilla would probably die.
The fact that she's made it into Grease is quite something, especially since this is only her third or fourth attempt to break into community theatre, and her second successful entry. Her last character at a community theatre was Hope in "Anything Goes."
Even if she only appears in five scenes, she still has a presence that commands the stage. She owns her roles, even if she should be out of place as a "gorilla".
I should admit that Grease isn't really my kind of musical. The songs have a sound to them which just clangs against my concept of rock & roll, and my taste in music in general. The plot feels too simple, with characters who have very little depth to them, and the end result of all the fanfare leads to a sweet girl going against her innermost principles in order to appease the crowd of people around her, whom she gravitates toward for reasons almost completely unknown. I'm just glad there didn't happen to be any heroin addicts at Rydell.
There's almost a lesson to this show, if only it weren't marred by a short-sighted ending. Maybe Sandy doesn't actually sell her soul for the wrong crowd of friends. Maybe the only thing that really changes is the way she dresses and how much she's willing to stand up for herself. If that's the case, then good for her, but if after the end of the show Danny whips out a condom, throws on a record of Huey Lewis, and breaks out a six-pack of Corona, then where does that leave Sandy? Is she really all the better for her transformation? Or will she wake up in the morning and hate herself all the more for what she's done?
I hope for her sake that Sandy doesn't forget who she is just because of who she's associated herself with. Thinking that you're not adequate as who God made you based on what the people around you think is such a disservice to yourself. My sister has a vitality to all of the characters she does. There's just something in her smile that shines through whatever character she plays, and it makes you know that whatever role she's in, whether it's a gorilla or Hope, she's being true to herself and doing what she loves.
The name "Chanticleer" reminds me of an old Don Bluth movie called "Rock-a-Doodle." The main character is a rooster, named Chanticleer, who lives on a farm and makes the sun rise by singing. When everyone comes to their senses and realizes that the sun rises on its own, Chanticleer feels like he doesn't have a purpose and goes off to Vegas to become a lounge singer. I can't remember nearly anything about the movie, but in the end Chanticleer goes back onto the farm and sings to wake up the sun, not because it's his duty, but because it's where he's happy. Regardless of what others tell him they think he should do, he's found his place.
I'm glad my sister's found hers.
The fact that she's made it into Grease is quite something, especially since this is only her third or fourth attempt to break into community theatre, and her second successful entry. Her last character at a community theatre was Hope in "Anything Goes."
Even if she only appears in five scenes, she still has a presence that commands the stage. She owns her roles, even if she should be out of place as a "gorilla".
I should admit that Grease isn't really my kind of musical. The songs have a sound to them which just clangs against my concept of rock & roll, and my taste in music in general. The plot feels too simple, with characters who have very little depth to them, and the end result of all the fanfare leads to a sweet girl going against her innermost principles in order to appease the crowd of people around her, whom she gravitates toward for reasons almost completely unknown. I'm just glad there didn't happen to be any heroin addicts at Rydell.
There's almost a lesson to this show, if only it weren't marred by a short-sighted ending. Maybe Sandy doesn't actually sell her soul for the wrong crowd of friends. Maybe the only thing that really changes is the way she dresses and how much she's willing to stand up for herself. If that's the case, then good for her, but if after the end of the show Danny whips out a condom, throws on a record of Huey Lewis, and breaks out a six-pack of Corona, then where does that leave Sandy? Is she really all the better for her transformation? Or will she wake up in the morning and hate herself all the more for what she's done?
I hope for her sake that Sandy doesn't forget who she is just because of who she's associated herself with. Thinking that you're not adequate as who God made you based on what the people around you think is such a disservice to yourself. My sister has a vitality to all of the characters she does. There's just something in her smile that shines through whatever character she plays, and it makes you know that whatever role she's in, whether it's a gorilla or Hope, she's being true to herself and doing what she loves.
The name "Chanticleer" reminds me of an old Don Bluth movie called "Rock-a-Doodle." The main character is a rooster, named Chanticleer, who lives on a farm and makes the sun rise by singing. When everyone comes to their senses and realizes that the sun rises on its own, Chanticleer feels like he doesn't have a purpose and goes off to Vegas to become a lounge singer. I can't remember nearly anything about the movie, but in the end Chanticleer goes back onto the farm and sings to wake up the sun, not because it's his duty, but because it's where he's happy. Regardless of what others tell him they think he should do, he's found his place.
I'm glad my sister's found hers.
Thursday, May 22
The day where I did nothing.
I went to bad last night no later than 11:30. It was a really bad day for me, and I'd go as far as saying that every day this week has been a bad one. Today wasn't much different. I couldn't sleep at all when I went to bed, and so I logged on to Meebo at midnight and tried talking with people. Nothing of substance was said, but it only took an hour for my eyes to get droopy. Turns out, of course, that droopy isn't enough, and I stayed in an uncomfortable coma from 1:00 to 6:30. Unable to take any more pretend-sleep, I logged on to Meebo again and caught the only person who's mattered this week as he was heading out to work. Once he had left, I tried the whole sleep thing again, then abandoned my attempts at 7:00 and got ready for the day.
By the time I made it downstairs, I was tired enough again to fall asleep, so I lay down on the couch and pulled out my iPod, to type on its notepad all of the things I wanted to say to the only person who's mattered this week. When that was done, I rolled onto my side and slept until my stomach demanded attention. I gave it the usual breakfast: cinnamon life (all we have in the way of cereal) with some mixed-in bran (all we have in the way of keeping my bowels just shy of total misery). When that was out of the way, I got on my computer, and logged on to retype everything to the only person who's mattered this week from my iPod and into Adium. Afterward, I composed Green, a playlist intended to only have songs inspiring fresh starts and new outlooks, sans any hint of love (something I currently see as cruelly ironic). Either my heart wasn't in it enough, or I'm a helpless romantic with too many songs centered around that theme, because when I was finished making the playlist, I only had 51 songs. I didn't feel like listening to it once I'd finished, and opted for my normal playlist of some 390 songs. When shuffled, it usually has a good sense of fitting the mood I'm in at a given time. Today wasn't different: the songs were all downbeat. During the ten songs I listened to, I got back onto Adium and typed a few more things to the only person who's mattered this week, and once I'd said everything that was on my mind, I retired once again to the couch downstairs. It was 2:00. I woke up when my dad got home, just before 4:00. Now I'm writing this blog.
I nearly started crying when I was in the middle of the first few sentences of this. I just started crying again now, thinking about how my father, who has never been one of many words, noticed how depressed I was on Tuesday and talked to me about it. I'm fairly sure he's still concerned, because my mood hasn't drastically changed between now and then. I mean, I just told you I'm crying right now.
I know that this shouldn't have been such a bad week. I got a new cell phone, I have my first job, and I'll be doing orientation for it on Saturday, two days before my family leaves for Virginia Beach. But what does that mean for me, really? A shiny new toy, and the finest symbol of power any red-blooded American can think of. Toys don't intrinsically contain anything of value to the human soul, and power is nothing without a means or a reason to share it. What good will my paychecks do if all I ever spend them on are toys that remain static on my shelves all my life? What good is saving that money for something grand if the only person who will witness its marvel is me? There's no sense to it, and so all of these things I have or will have... they're as empty as I am right now.
I don't know how much more often my heart can go through this pain. Love leaves deeper scars than anything else I know.
By the time I made it downstairs, I was tired enough again to fall asleep, so I lay down on the couch and pulled out my iPod, to type on its notepad all of the things I wanted to say to the only person who's mattered this week. When that was done, I rolled onto my side and slept until my stomach demanded attention. I gave it the usual breakfast: cinnamon life (all we have in the way of cereal) with some mixed-in bran (all we have in the way of keeping my bowels just shy of total misery). When that was out of the way, I got on my computer, and logged on to retype everything to the only person who's mattered this week from my iPod and into Adium. Afterward, I composed Green, a playlist intended to only have songs inspiring fresh starts and new outlooks, sans any hint of love (something I currently see as cruelly ironic). Either my heart wasn't in it enough, or I'm a helpless romantic with too many songs centered around that theme, because when I was finished making the playlist, I only had 51 songs. I didn't feel like listening to it once I'd finished, and opted for my normal playlist of some 390 songs. When shuffled, it usually has a good sense of fitting the mood I'm in at a given time. Today wasn't different: the songs were all downbeat. During the ten songs I listened to, I got back onto Adium and typed a few more things to the only person who's mattered this week, and once I'd said everything that was on my mind, I retired once again to the couch downstairs. It was 2:00. I woke up when my dad got home, just before 4:00. Now I'm writing this blog.
I nearly started crying when I was in the middle of the first few sentences of this. I just started crying again now, thinking about how my father, who has never been one of many words, noticed how depressed I was on Tuesday and talked to me about it. I'm fairly sure he's still concerned, because my mood hasn't drastically changed between now and then. I mean, I just told you I'm crying right now.
I know that this shouldn't have been such a bad week. I got a new cell phone, I have my first job, and I'll be doing orientation for it on Saturday, two days before my family leaves for Virginia Beach. But what does that mean for me, really? A shiny new toy, and the finest symbol of power any red-blooded American can think of. Toys don't intrinsically contain anything of value to the human soul, and power is nothing without a means or a reason to share it. What good will my paychecks do if all I ever spend them on are toys that remain static on my shelves all my life? What good is saving that money for something grand if the only person who will witness its marvel is me? There's no sense to it, and so all of these things I have or will have... they're as empty as I am right now.
I don't know how much more often my heart can go through this pain. Love leaves deeper scars than anything else I know.
Monday, May 19
Waiting For My Real Life to Begin
Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down down down, on me
And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again
And you say, just be here now
Forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin
Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I’ll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine, there's sure to be that call
It's gonna happen soon, soon, soon
It's just that times are lean
And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart, let the light shine in
Don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
On a clear day
I can see
See a very long way
On a clear day
I can see
See a very long way
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down down down, on me
And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams, I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path, and up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again
And you say, just be here now
Forget about the past, your mask is wearing thin
Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I’ll keep checking the horizon
And I'll check my machine, there's sure to be that call
It's gonna happen soon, soon, soon
It's just that times are lean
And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart, let the light shine in
Don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
On a clear day
I can see
See a very long way
On a clear day
I can see
See a very long way
Saturday, May 10
2007-2008 in review
Well, summer's here now. It's likely to suck, just like many of those before it, but I've gotten used to it. I spent the day unpacking my room and playing World of Warcraft. It's business as usual.
And I wouldn't be necessarily upset with this, if it just felt more like I was taking notice of everything around me.
The real problem is, I don't feel that way. I feel like every day I move with my eyes closed; without really seeing what I'm doing or
where I'm going. Life has acquired that dreamy feeling that dreams have. I can't count the number of times I've sat somewhere and completely spaced out about anything around me.
And maybe I'm not missing anything important. Maybe the stuff I'm spacing on is just my most basic routine, and my brain is just rejecting unimportant memories before they clog my mind, but I still feel like I'm not seeing everything I should. I feel like amid all of the things I don't pay attention to, there's a lot that does deserve my attention.
Still, it feels like I have my dreams, and then I have my daydreams. Who's to say that I'm really awake? Why doesn't it feel like my eyes are open, even when they are?
What am I missing?
And I wouldn't be necessarily upset with this, if it just felt more like I was taking notice of everything around me.
The real problem is, I don't feel that way. I feel like every day I move with my eyes closed; without really seeing what I'm doing or
where I'm going. Life has acquired that dreamy feeling that dreams have. I can't count the number of times I've sat somewhere and completely spaced out about anything around me.
And maybe I'm not missing anything important. Maybe the stuff I'm spacing on is just my most basic routine, and my brain is just rejecting unimportant memories before they clog my mind, but I still feel like I'm not seeing everything I should. I feel like amid all of the things I don't pay attention to, there's a lot that does deserve my attention.
Still, it feels like I have my dreams, and then I have my daydreams. Who's to say that I'm really awake? Why doesn't it feel like my eyes are open, even when they are?
What am I missing?
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