Good day, good day

So today went well. I conversed with several Olinites online, got a box from Joy (with the coolest monkey socks EVAR), and discovered that an amazing steel drummer will be at HSU in April. So I will go. And it will be the bestest concert. He's really good.

And how on earth have I - self-proclaimed music lover that I am - survived without ever really listening to Maynard Ferguson?? He is... WOW! Cannot find words. So good. I <3 style="font-style: italic;">We wants it, our precious. Any good music ideas?

And the first floor of my index card house is completed. Don't ask.

prince charming?

Just watched Snow White, which started me thinking about Prince Charming. I am somehow under the impression that the stereotypical Prince Charming (call him PC) is "tall, dark, and handsome" - I don't know why - and sometimes mysterious as well. I've read books and seen movies with a PC; most of the books didn't actually have a PC - the girls just dreamt about him. In the Anne of Green Gables books, for instance, Anne and Diana spend hours picturing their own PCs. They know what he looks like, how he acts, what he wears, even possible names. For some reason, I think most girls do this. Do they? Do most young girls dream of a PC who is perfect and romantic and et cetera? I just know I never did this.

I don't remember thinking of my perfect prince. And now, when I actually care just a little, I can't picture him. If I start describing PC, people I've known crowd in. Traits I've disliked in people associate themselves with all other traits those poor boys possessed. And I associate names very strongly with the character. For example, I despise the name Colin because of someone I knew in high school who I didn't like very much. (and it makes me think of colic) I also don't like the name Clinton, because of a boy in 1st grade. Also don't like Dennis; and there are other names. I like most J names, and Paul, Mac, Ross, Andrew, Isaac, Luke, Westley, a few D names; all names of people who have traits I admire or cool characters from books.

So what would my PC be like? I don't know. I like both dark and light hair, because I've known boys with both who I approved of. Black is good, so's dark or light brown, so's red, and real blond. No blue or green or pink or purple... And eye color? And skin color? I really don't care all that much, although I like people who obviously spend a good amount of time outdoors. And again, this is all because of what my friends have been like. It seems rather odd to me that I remember no childish dreams for my future. The only standards I have to compare people to are standards formed by other people I have known. I almost feel bad that I won't be able to tell my future husband that he's exactly what I dreamed him to be. I'll never be able to tell someone they're my PC, cause I don't have one. I almost feel sad about this, but not quite. I just feel like a very unusual girl. I feel like I've just identified another missing piece of childhood. Sigh...

And it's raining again! Rain inspires thoughtful reveries and wistful stares. I love it. There's nothing so peaceful as falling asleep to the pounding of a rainstorm. All else is still and silent and watching; the rain alone moves, falling straight down all gray and fat, covering a multitude of messes, washing the land's face clean. Mmmm, rain!

Yechh...

I have been rendered speechless by one of those too-small-to-see evil things. And as if that weren't enough, swallowing has become horridly painful. And my temperature can't make up it's mind. Yeah, I'm sick. I think the most annoying part is just that my throat hurts really badly. I can deal with the not talking. Hopefully it won't last long; Dawn had something similar, and she got over it relatively quickly. But it's still frustrating.

I still like Batman best. And I think I know why. He doesn't have any superpowers, or at least he didn't in Batman Begins. (Keep in mind that my introduction to Spiderman was the movies, and my intro to Batman was the recent movie, and the closest I've come to being introduced to Superman was by watching a few episodes of Smallville. Superheroes were not present in my childhood.) Course, since I wasn't swept away by superheroes when I was younger, now appears to be the time. But Batman's my favorite; mostly because he's more real. He doesn't have any crazy super powers. He's just strong and rich and just so happens to have the coolest cave under his house and amazing gadgets at his disposal. He's just a person who took advantage of an amazing opportunity. Makes him seem more attainable. I'm not rich, or strong like he is, but I'm assuming there must be something good I can do. I just need someone to get me started, to help me. Even Batman wasn't alone. Several people played key parts in preparing him and supporting him (at least in the movie. I don't know about the original comics). Catalyst people. So now I just need some catalysts...

And, of course, being able to speak would be nice, too...

blah. a pox on the confusion of life.

wow. in a somewhat depressed state right now; i'm not quite sure why. today's been decent. nice weather again. of course, i'm beginning to feel ill - blame it on family members. and i slept very very little last night. and had some good conversations with cool people. so why do i feel so blah? is it cause i still can't find a good reason for my being here? because i still have no reason for anything? perhaps i'm getting discouraged by the lack of answers. perhaps this is just me coming down with a cold. perhaps it's just the other extreme after a few times of crazy laughter and feeling like my family's much more of a family than it ever has been. perhaps i'm also jealous of other people having a good time, being busy, being around lots of people their own age who they can talk to and connect with and just plain have fun around. i am olin-sick. but is that all that's wrong with me? i don't know.

i definitely envy all you who are enjoying your lives right now. so sad, i've spent so much of my life wanting something i didn't have (lightheartedness, fun, friends, popularity, money, purpose, etc.). for a while i was fairly content. content to be mediocre - but only because everyone else was so amazing (i mean you, olin people). content that i was ok, that i wasn't despised, that i might actually matter. but now, that nice easy contentment is gone. don't know where it went. i want it back. or at least, i want something.

there's still something missing in my life. perhaps many somethings. but how can you find something if you don't know what it looks like?

Ah, yes...

Watching a pale blue butterfly wing grow in form and colour while listening to Spanish guitar and crocheting equals wonderful relaxation. Oh, how I love Spanish guitar! Hurrah for records.

And did you know? - Brahms wrote a Requiem. I never knew that. It's special because the words are not the usual ones found in requiems. It's more for the people who remain - words of comfort. And all the words are taken straight from the Bible. It's a beautiful piece.

oh wow! Gandalf is amazing!

So this evening I got a treat. Ooh-la-la. The United States Air Force Band of the Golden West performed in town. It was their concert band, and true to form, it was a fantastic performance. Their jazz band came by a couple years ago, and the musicians are wonderful. They're professionals.. Oh golly. Tonight's performance was a treat to my poor ears. It's been so long since I've heard a good concert band perform. They did several marches (of course, since they're military). They performed a piece called Valdres that was really cool, and a tone poem-ish piece called To Tame the Perilous Skies. It was a picture of the fog lifting to reveal the planes, then them taking off to fly around for a while, then they got called to duty, participated in a dog fight. It was really impressive. I enjoyed it immensely. And the french horn soloist - oh my goodness! He was amazing! I've always loved the French horn, and wow he was good. They also had a vocalist who performed first Debussy, then jazz (All the Way, and some Ella piece).

Then there was Gandalf. Some dude wrote a Lord of the Rings symphony (this was before the movies and the craze). Gandalf is the most famous section of it. I'd never heard it before, but I'd heard about it. The piece certainly conveyed Gandalf as I picture him from reading the books. So cool. And now I am refreshed.

I also picked up some job applications today. And it's a four day weekend. And we got another phone line, so I won't feel bad staying on-line. Yay!

Much Better

Wednesdays are much better than Tuesdays. Don't quite know why I liked today better than yesterday. My sister got sick today. And my left shoulder is ridiculously tense and I've got a funny thing on my collarbone that hurts a little (It feels like someone tied a thin string around the bone. So weird), so it's not like today was good.

But orchestra was fun. And somehow I was happier. Don't ask why; I can't answer. I think I just have to accept that. It's just one of those things that I do not and can not ever understand. Such is life. And I'm going to go job-hunting tomorrow. So here's hoping that goes well. And that I don't thoroughly embarrass myself by doing or saying something foolish or stupid.

Just thought of something... Maybe eating the butterfly was part of what made my day so good. I like butterflies. Yum.

Tuesdays...

There is nothing worth saying about Tuesdays. They just are. They come just like any other day - the sun rises, sails across the sky, and sets. But they're meh.

Especially when the Tuesday is a "holiday." Especially when it's a stupid holiday that spits alcohol into open wounds. Bleeding hearts and dying flowers and enforced pretend affection and reminders of one's own unspecialness - those are what Valentine's Day remind me of.

I don't like it. I think I'm going to go occupy myself and attempt to forget the day. This is willful ignorance at its finest. Bah humbug.

Ahhh!

The owl. Will not. SHUT UP!

I ask of you: However can one be expected to sleep with an owl constantly, insistently, hooting nearby? Whoo-who-who-whooo-Whoo! And it goes on. He hoots. Pauses a minute. Then repeats. And it's a great horned, which means we can't make it stop. No bb guns this time. Not that I could even see it cause it's dark already. But grrr. I want to sleep now. But as soon as the silence settles, that infernal owl starts up again. He's been at it for several hours! It's almost as if he's waiting for someone who's really really late, or he's a sentinel, relaying the safe signal every few seconds, or he's sending messages to heaven knows what. But I'm afraid I'm going to go insane. Or at least go sleepless. Stupid owl. Please, Mr. Owl, please, for the love of all that is holy, or even for the love of all that is not holy, if you prefer, please just SHUT UP!!
(said while muttering...) I. Hate. That. Stupid. Owl.

Don't sue me. You'd hate him too if he was doing this to you. You know you would. Or, if you didn't hate him, at least you'd want to STRANGLE HIM WITH A THIN PIECE OF FISHING WIRE SO THAT HE WOULD NEVER DO THIS AGAIN! Or you'd catch him in a really strong cage and take him to a doctor and have his "whoo"-ing mechanism removed. Or you'd just slap him. Or maybe you're more tolerant of annoying birds than I and you'd just smile and say "nice birdie. Please be quiet. I am trying to sleep." But I am NOT tolerant of annoying birds. Living with a pet goose has cured me of that. I say I want to strangle the owl, and I do. Or just shoot it. That would be easier and less dangerous for me. And it would help me practice my marksmanship. It would be, so to speak, killing two birds with one stone. Don't you dare laugh. That was horrible of me, bad llama.

OWL = EVIL

GRRRR...

Boo yah!

Ooh-la-la. I shouldn't be typing. But wheee! I am anyway. I am now officially a bass chick. Well, sortof. Today went well, although I have the beginnings of small blisters on two fingers. And oh it makes me laugh! I actually, for once, planned my outfit. By this, I mean I thought about what I would wear, and tried to make it match. Apparently I succeeded. (For the curious, it was black boots, black tights, white skirt, black shirt and black suit jacket) But I forgot about a couple things. 1) the bass I play? It's black and white. So I matched my bass. I was a cool bass chick wearing a color-coordinated outfit with my instrument. 2) we have black lights. Weird, I know, but we've got a picture made with black light paint, so we shine black lights on it. One of the light fixtures has black light instead of fluorescent, and it was the only one on in the worship band part of the building. SO, since I was standing directly underneath that light, my skirt glowed. It glowed that really cool purpley color. So there I was, matching my bass, with my skirt lit up by the black lights. And I have a motion deficiency; I can NOT stand still. So I moved, with the music, almost the entire time. Yeah, weird. It was crazy how many comments I got about the fact that a) I was playing bass ("I didn't know you played bass!") b) I was wearing a matching, cool outfit ("I love your outfit!" oh man, so many people complimenting me, and that's weird. I'm accustomed to people looking at what I'm wearing, giving me a funny face, and avoiding looking at me from then on.) and c) I glowed purple! I was told I made a sensation; I don't quite believe that. But it was nice to be treated nicely, and it was so much fun to play. (sorry about the italics) It's been too long since I've been in a band, and I really missed it. So boo yah! I win. Oh yeah. I totally win... (and it wasn't even intentional! yay!) So despite my sore fingers, I am so doing this again. At least now I have something to look forward to on the weekends. Now I just need something to do during the week. Me = :-)

And it was good.

Today was good. So, for that matter, was yesterday. (We had worship practice, so I played bass for the first time. I always wanted to be a bass! It was grand. Much more difficult than I expected because one of the songs is really fast and my part NEVER STOPS, but great fun. And tomorrow we play all those songs again. We'll see how it goes.) But today was better. Oh yes, much better. Dawn and I took the afternoon off away from the house. We drove to Endert's Beach. I hadn't been there since I was approximately 10, so it was very different than what I had remembered. But it was wonderful. The trail down to the beach goes along the cliffs at first, so there are rocks above, up to the top of the mountain, and some brush then way down at the bottom the ocean on the other side. Then it goes inland a little more. There's a creek mouth at Endert's, so the trail goes to the creek first, then there's a campsite it passes, then it marches up to the bluffs and down from there to the beach itself. The weather today was glorious - sunny with very little wind. Some clouds started coming in (we'll get more rain this week), but not enough to block the sunlight, not enough to make it cold. After wandering down the beach, writing with sticks in the sand, playing tag with the waves, and climbing on random large rocks, we decided to go exploring. There's a trail that starts at Endert's Beach which continues for a LONG WAY. Apparently, it ends somewhere in San Diego. Yes, that's the San Diego way down by Mexico. This trail (i've been told) stretches down the entire coast of California. And it starts at Endert's Beach. So we started down it... Or rather, up. It just kept climbing. Up, and up, and oh! there's the top... but not really, go up more... that must be the top! nope, just fooling. When we finally stopped and turned around, the trail was still going up. But I think it was at the ridge of the mountain, so it wasn't climbing very steeply anymore. We'll have to go another day, and start in the morning, and see how far we can go. According to Dad's trail map, that section of the coastal trail is a 6. Trails here are on a scale from 1 to 6. 1 is easy. 6 is the hardest. w00t. Didn't even know it beforehand. Yay for mountians! Yay for hikes that make your ears pop. It was fun. And so good. And we'll probably both be sore tomorrow, cause neither of us is in shape, but it'll be the good sore, and I don't think it'll be that bad (at least not for me).

But anyway, spending a day outside, walking and climbing in good clean ocean air, with birds chirping every now and then and random flowers blooming, does wonders to clear the cobwebs out of the brain. And the ocean is MARVELOUS! I love it so much. It's so relaxing. Even though I'm tired, it's the good kind. I need to live outdoors more. It's exhilarating. It just feels good. So today made me happy. Today was a good day.

Just pray that tomorrow will be too.

BOOTS

If, during your perusal of a random collection of short-stories, you noticed one called "BOOTS," what would you expect it to be about? Just wondering. My sister thinks it would be about mud. As in "my name is mud." I think she's just tired. "of dirt" And therefore a bit silly. I think writing whatever she says is not a good idea. So enough of that. All ideas are welcome.

I started to read Moby Dick, and I love it. Of course, I've only read the first ~3 chapters, but still! It's much more to my taste than many books I've read. I enjoy long, drawn-out sentences, I love it when the author paints the scene in exquisite detail. I have a feeling I will like this book. Yay!

Speechless = ?

I hate being speechless. Especially when words ran in grand style through my head not an hour ago. They have left me. And I hate when anything leaves.

I somehow am not minding being here. Don't know quite how this happened; I never granted permission for myself to accept this current location. Yet, somehow, Me, Myself and I aren't communicating properly; I say I want to be at Olin, Myself is ok with being here, and Me... Me is just confused. I snobbily says that Me is always confused. In the one case, Myself and I are in agreement - Me is generally confuzzled. Even Me blankly agrees to this. But I isn't happy here. I doesn't like this change. I wants what I wants, and by golly, if I doesn't get it, then I am not pleased. Me just accepts it, whatever it is. Myself? Myself has decided that the best thing to do is live here, accept this crazy turn of events that has been thrust upon us. Myself is the most sensible of us. And the sad part? Me, Myself and I are stuck together. We can't separate. There's nothing we can do but keep walking.

One day as I was marching/ Down sunny roads of gold
I saw a bird approaching/ Dressed in red, and bold.
At first I kept on walking/ Ignoring robin red,
But soon a voice was talking!/ For words entered my head:
"Oh traveller! so fair/ who journeys through my wood,
Please slow your pace and share/ A thought. Sir, if you could?
Then be so kind and lend/ Your ear in turn to mine."
I stopp'd to stare then bend/ My mind to proverbs rare and fine;
For, if share I must, then/ I would speak words timeless,
Wise and true. Time pass'd. When/ came to me, not a guess,
But answer to this query./ So, to the bird, I quoth:
"Naught reply to fury/ with fury like, or both
Will with regret recall/ The exchange." So saying,
Pleased was I. My wit/ In my mind was quite keen.
But robin, not a bit/ Impressed, stopped to preen,
Then cleared his throat. And sang:/ "If lives are lived by love
Alone, then mis'ry's pang,/ anger's heat, troubles of
Our follies are never/ felt. For love forgives all
and endures; if ever/ doubted, love knows the fall
Of men is only for/ a time. And after, each
Man's heart and broken core/ Will bow. And heaven's reach
Will touch each one. Then man/ will never speak again
In sin. As he began/ So will he be. Amen."
Then he flew off. My way/ Was clear and golden and
I soon began my stroll/ once more. But by my hand
A feather fell - twas bright/ and red and gave me pause;
The bird's speech! He was right!/ I grasp'd it now! The cause
Of all the aching, in my wand'ring, on roads that ran through night and day
Had been my wanting something diff'rent, something clear to show my way.
And now I'd found it, this clear reason, this word far above my own -
Love the answer, love the reason, love the life the Son had shown.

Wow, apparently some words decided to grant me the favor of their presence. Yay for spur of the moment poetry that changes meter part way through! But that took a while, and I am tired now. Speechless = able to be spoken through. (I hope, I think. It's possible...)

Questions...

After watching Sense and Sensibility... Do I like Edward or Colonel Brandon or Willoughby best? Brandon, I think. He's steadfast and reliable and honest and manly. Edward's wimpy. Nice and quiet, with good goals, but not enough spine. And Willoughby just annoys me. I wonder what this says about my future...

Other question: If you suddenly discovered that something you had sworn to protect, something infinitely valuable, had been lost, what would you do? Imagine that, once lost, this thing will almost definitely bring about the destruction of earth. How would you feel? What would you think? What would the progression of your thoughts be? (This isn't random... I'm trying to write a story, but don't think I've got the reaction quite right. Feel free to answer)

I love having a bass! (Electric bass, that is.) I'm not that good; can't think of anything to play. But I somehow feel cool playing it. And it'll give me something to do on the weekends. And it's just cool, cause now I'm going to be a cool bass-player chick! I'm so weird.

Oh the sun's comin' up on a brand-new day

This week is supposed to be sunny - for the entire week. My faith in the weather has improved. We've had over 30 inches of rain in the last 2 months. "Enough," has said the sun. "Attention must be given to me. For I bring warmth, and growth, and life, and all that makes those people down there happy. My time is now." So it will be. Rain is good; it's just depressing when it DOESN'T STOP for weeks. The weirdest thing is that the plum trees are blooming. As are the daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, and azaleas. Apparently some azaleas bloomed all winter. Now, it is spring. February has barely arrived, and the plants have decided spring is here. So odd. Out in Mass, it's winter. It's probably snowing. And that will continue for a good while yet. But here? Winter's reign has ended. w00t.
I saw Beth today. She's a high school friend. My first indication that she had seen me was a high pitched cry of some sort. Then I was glomped. Attacked. Nearly knocked over. Enveloped. Golly, she surprised me with her reaction. But it was good to see her. She's glad to see me. We'll have to hang out. She's a sweet girl; we've always gotten along well. :-)
The EZ's having trouble. (It's the little blue car I drove in high school) Apparently Dad had it tuned, and they didn't do a good job. Between that and the fact the my brother doesn't listen to it, the poor car just isn't happy. It's pretty old, and was very cheap, and is manual, and when I drive it I can hear and feel that something's wrong with it. This saddens me. It's my car! (Or at least, it seems like it is...) And my car is unhappy. It doesn't drive correctly. It coughs. I like driving happy cars. And every time I drive it after my brother does, it sounds worse. Isn't it strange that an out-of-tune car can make me hurt inside?
I got a box full of monkeys from Joy today. Simple things make large differences in mood. So does reading a good, wholesome book. (Rose in Bloom, by Louisa May Alcott. Her books are like a ripe apple. Sweet with a touch of tart, wholesome, healthy, enjoyable. As it is consumes, you can feel that it is good for you. It's not boring, but not absurdly suspenseful. It's realistic. It doesn't toy with your emotions just because. I wish books like this were written more often nowadays. Books with real gentlemen; men who respect and honor womanhood, who actually care about what the woman things and feels, men who will truly love their wives, instead of viewing them merely as a means to gratification of their desires. The only problem with reading this book is that I want the people to be real. And I want to meet them. I want someone like Mac to fall in love with me. Maybe someday, if men like him even exist...)
I've decided that living a life of lounging is not worthwhile. Spending each day sleeping, eating, reading, playing cards, etc, is not satisfactory. There's got to be something else - something to look forward to, something to do that will actually accomplish something other than killing time. Reminds me of a poem I wrote in Jr. High: Time waits for no man; you can't turn back the sun. If you don't do it now, you may never get it done. (there's more, I just don't remember the rest) Now I just need to figure out what I want to do. This'll be interesting...

From February 2

...something I wrote. Thought I'd post it, even though it's old.
Today's been crazy. I woke at 6.10 to take my two younger siblings and mother to school - they're headed to Chico for a choir thing. I hate getting up that early, cause it's still dark, but I love being up that early cause it's quiet and smells good and morning. And I persuaded mum to
buy me a treat at the bakery... yum blackberry strudel. Then I came home and tried to sleep a little to alleviate my tiredness. I had a weird dream about someone who was a blue and purple and black spider that was attempting to rape me. Subliminal perhaps? But if so, what on earth does it mean? It really scared me. I mean SCARED me. You see, I don't dream much. When I do, it's usually not in color. And there's no sound. And I DON'T have nightmares. Almost ever. Especially ones that I remember. Right after I woke up, it was still hanging over me, that horrible feeling that a spider had been trying to violate me. It sounds silly I know, especially since the spider was much smaller than I, but it was creepy. Not happy. That sort of thing's not supposed to happen to me. Grrr.
But after I got up and ate lunch things got better. I had to mail something for my brother, so I took my older sister with me and we went to the beach. It's been storming lately, and today was a break in the storm, so it was really foggy (like usual here). And there was a lot of glare. But
because of all the storms the waves were beautiful. And big. And it was high tide, so they were crashing on the rocks right by the road. It made Dawn really happy. So beautiful. I've really missed the ocean. Nothing beats the Pacific! That, in addition to a little sun coming through the
fog, made this a good day.
I've made more progress on cleaning my room - cleaned out my closet, so I could put other stuff in it. Dad and I have been going through the random bags of stuff sitting in the hall to decide what goes to a yard sale, what gets trashed, and what gets put up in the attic. It's so quiet with half the family gone. And none of us here have anything to do, so we have to keep ourselves
entertained... luckily we're crazy enough that isn't very difficult. Dad and I played several games of Crazy 8's this evening. Oh, it was fun! The last game lasted a really long time - just the way Crazy 8's should be. And in our version, we pick two wild cards, and take turns choosing. Having two wilds instead of only one makes games more interesting - which is the whole point of playing them.
I got in touch with one of my old high school friends; but via email, so I haven't actually seen him yet. I haven't seen him since graduation, so he's never seen me without really long hair. Mwahahahah. It's always fun to see people's reactions. And he's a cool person to hang with, so I might ask him to come hang here this weekend - the three of us here need someone else to torture...
But now I'm supposed to be going to bed, cause Dad wants me up around 9 in the morning. And I still have to clear off my bed so I can actually sleep in it. So, off to do more cleaning.

It has come...

I finally am starting the blog I spoke of for so long. For all you Olin people. I will write more later, since I ought to be heading off to get sleep. But things are looking better here - primarily because I'm not so angry about actually being on this coast instead of the other one. I believe I am finally accepting the inevitable, accepting that I will be here for a while, accepting that perhaps what I wanted wasn't what was best for me. We'll see. As of right now, I still have no idea where to go next. But C S Lewis still says everything best: "To say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words."

And to adapt more of his words: I am broken now and have not much to fear from the anger of people. Being... free from fear, I will write what no one who has happiness would dare to write...

And through it all, the search remains - to find what I am, who I am, where I am, to arrive, finally, at a place where I can say without a doubt that I am no longer faceless.