gentlemen

lady's house

This weekend I am excited. Why? Because I've made three decisions, of what I think, to be very valuable.

1-Going home for a dinner day with my dad.
2-Coming back for a pumpkin date with my friends.
3-Spending as much time outside as possible.

Family is interesting. I consider those as members of my family in many capacities. I know that a lot of people do, but it's kind of funny (in a comforting way) to sit down and really think about it.

Related and extended family members have known you since birth. They've been there for literally everything, up until you decided to leave or choose specific things to not share with them.

Family friends have been there for you since about birth as well, usually close friends of the parents. Still, there for just about everything, or everything that parents feel the need to share with them over weekly phone conversations.



Then there are your friends that you yourself have accumulated throughout your life. The friends that you've been lucky enough to have placed delicately or abruptly in specific places at just the right time. I feel truly blessed to have my family members so close to me in my life as well as close family friends, but my friends whom I consider family I truly feel blessed to have. These are the ones who I feel help me search to be more connected with the world outside of my related family. These are also the friends who I am lucky enough to have such a bond with; that they are my family when life has started to move in different directions. These are the people who become more and more connected to me each and every day and I with them.

These are the friends who see me the way they do...the friends I can carve pumpkins with as well as listen to funny music with.
There's nothing really to this post except that I'm sitting here thinking how much I really love and adore everyone in my life. I have good people. Good people have me. We all have good people. People are good.

chai's aren't cheap.

It's been quite some time since I have had a Wednesday night free to myself. It's been quite some time since I've updated this blog. After not being able to do things for yourself in a period of time, it's interesting the things you fall back into routine with and the things you leave by the wayside.

-yoga class, check.
-radinas music night, iffy, but check.
-midnight mimosa, check (soon to be).
-catching up on cutey fashion blogs, check.
-not saying a word to anyone...super check.

My freshman year, I was obsessed with Brandi Carlile's song 'The Story' . Listening to it then had an entirely different meaning. I don't really know what it was though...just excitement with school I suppose. The old wearing off and the new setting in as a fact. I discovered this song around this time of year when the leaves were just starting to fall and the summer heat was just starting to cool. I started listening to this song when I was trying to figure out my life (because as a freshman, I thought that's what the cool kids did; drink coffee and think about life with music softly singing in the background).

Now, sitting here listening to a cover of this song trying to still figure out my life, it has an entirely different meaning. I don't really know what this meaning is either-except plain ol' nostalgia. I remember trying to dance to this song studying for finals in the study room down the hall in my dorm. I remember the boy who I thought would be the love of my life. I remember the chai latte sitting on my desk. I remember missing home but loving college. I remember looking out of the dorms onto the Strong complex wondering what college was like for my grandparents who met inside of those limestone walls. I wondered what college would be like from here on out. I remember thinking something along the lines of 'this is so cool'.

Oh geez...life is still pretty cliche and corny. Not much as changed (but that's kind of a lie because a lot has changed).
Life is still busy. Life is still changing. Life is still crazy. Life is still abundant. And life is still a place of excitement and bewilderment; constantly searching, constantly waiting. The thing is, the song is still the same. Just a little different because of the artist. I'm sitting here looking back on the last four and a half/five years or so thinking about everything that's happened...because a lot has happened...but the thing is...it's already happened. I spent so much time looking forward to the future that I missed a lot. Thank goodness for memories so that I can look back now and see them. However, now I spend an awful lot of time looking at the past. 1-I don't really have that spark of excitement for the future because life is moving so fast I miss the little things that I care for so much and 2-I am just a nostalgic person... A lot has changed, but that's life. It will change. I feel I'm much less naive about things now...like instead of paying full price for a chai latte, just order the tea and pour your own skim, honey and sugar into it at the counter. A little different, but still the same.

I feel like such an old woman right now. An old crazy soul I suppose. I'm looking forward to this year a little more now that I've had this night to recharge and listen to some covers and go back to the places I once did 'year's' ago. I am a little more excited and a little less focused on the here and there. I am a little more centered and slowly inching towards being present. Maybe I'll see my future in the bottom of this to go cup...? eh?

this.old.house.

still love this band.


...i don't like this video.

L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.

You know, I used to think that having a life narrated by Keri Bradshaw would be the epitath of my life. Then for a while after my teenage years, I decided that if Anthony Bourdaine were to narrate my life as a whole how much more exicitng it would be. Now, after finding a balance between the two crazy worlds of adventure and teenage heartbreak, I would much rather have Julia Roberts narrate my life. She's just so good at it. I know you're shaking your heads saying 'No way, at least have Dame Maggie Smith or Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine or even the man who is taking over the commercial voiceover world Patrick Dempsey narrate your life'. HOWEVER, If you have not seen Eat Pray Love yet...please, please, please go see it. Then you will understand my choice. I admit, I have never traveled farther than Colorado except for one brief hot trip to Mexico-so-things in terms of the travels might seem a bit cliche. More so, I am also a female so I feel that it is my 'God given' right to envy, lust and yearn with every fiber of my being to reach for something that of the heroine in a 'chick flick'. So, in a nut shell of this long overdue and fairly slim to nothing post-go see Eat Pray Love. (Or read the book :-) )


"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."
— Elizabeth Gilbert




----



"Look for God. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water."
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia)








----


"L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.
The love that moves the sun and the other stars."
— Elizabeth Gilbert

The Urge...

I want this...

...but it won't happen.
I am strong.
I will not cut my hair.
...but I want to so bad at the same time.
Ugggh.

a dandelions dream

Home. I know that this topic is written about a lot on this blog...but we write what we know...we write what we feel is meaningful...we write what is abundant to us...we write what we feel is a gift to be shared...right?

When driving home today with rain pounding into my little broken down toyota, I thought about how often I talk about 'foundation', 'homebase', 'the process' and so many other things that relate to that. Then I thought...how cliche. How seriously cliche. From about Topeka to Lawrence all that was running through my head was how silly I felt for always talking about these things when I'm constantly struggling with them myself. Then at about the Lawrence exit just when I started to really feel like the past few years have been a broken record-it dawned on me.

These topics are what I know. They are what I feel to be meaningful. They are abundant in my life. They are things that have been shared with me as gifts and I feel that to talk about them and the blessings in others' lives are gifts as well. These things of 'home' 'foundations' and 'the process' are things that are going to be constantly worked in my life...and I'm ok with that. I am really really ok with that. It might be possible that I might feel like a broken record...but it's nice to think back on things. It's like driving home.


Turning past the old blue farmhouse on the corner. The fence you used to climb with the neighbors. The patch of dandelions that seem to grow all year long. That old oak tree with the swing that's used as a landmark instead of signs. The trickles of limbs reaching down for you through the narrow two lane into town and around the corner by the railroad tracks where you used to skip rocks on the wood. These stones are places that visually bring me back to places that I know. Places in my life that are meaningful. Places in my life where lessons were learned. Things were gathered in my memory and heart that I feel important to share as gifts because they were blessings to me. When stuck between a rock and hard place, these nostalgic 'things' wedge me out. Yet, they are brought about not by me nor any other human being.




When I'm here, home, things just seem right. Life is calm. Life is right. Life is straight with flat ground so that I can see clearly over those hills that were once there. Life is how I once knew it before new things creapt in to make me sometimes feel like an awkward sulky teenager again. I miss these good things-When that patch of dandelions was just right around the corner ready to be blown throughout the air.

Home.

Aug 1

Two months...two months and I will be able to let myself go. Carrie Bradshaw style. I can't wait. Grannit, it won't be blue, but the green is so much better.


Goodbye old.





Hello new.







Look for actual updates in two and a half months.

Choices

Dear blog,

I miss you.
I am sorry I have neglected to write anything of worth in a great deal of time.



On the brain since last post...choices.
As humans, we make choices. Always. Constantly we are in a state of making choices either consciously or not, we make them. What I don't understand is how we, as humans, have the ability to make choices that harm others. I know we are able to do so, but I just can't see the justification in consciously choosing to make a choice that would harm someone else. We see it happen everyday.(FYI: this has not happened to me lately, just observations). I think back to elementary school on the playground. One child consciously chooses to push another out of the way so that he is now the first person in line for the #1 tether ball court or the best four square game. We make choices-often times, for what we think is the betterment of ourselves...but I've just made observations lately of how easy it is to make choices (consciously) that turn out to be extremely selfish and harmful to others.

The cure?
...I don't really know.
Don't be ridiculous I suppose. Make the effort to put your better foot forward? Try to understand the way others might respond to situations-not the same way that you would. Extend a hand? Indiscriminate acts of kindness? There are so many options...but to choose just one?

...In my mind, there is no need to only choose one answer as to why a person should make positive choices for the betterment of not only themselves, but what I feel is often times much more important: for the betterment of others...

Two To-Do's for this summer to add to my 'learning list'.

a gift to be given...

...is this song.

close your eyes.
then, push play.

well, wait. just kidding open your eyes again, i made a mistake.

ok.
take two.

push play.
quickly, close your eyes.

k. we're good. now-listen.



take a second.
open your eyes.
think.

i have such memories with this song.
i know i've posted it before...or at least i feel as if i have.
though the above might be true-i don't care.
list and share the things that you love more than once.
if something moves you to share...share it. and share it as often as you feel it should be given.

Lots to say. Lots and lots to say but not enough time or energy to successfully gather thoughts that would make sense to the world. Another time perhaps? Okay then, yes...another time.

Until then:



I will have words for this soon as well. They will be good ones. :-)



blessings.

The Summer Bucket

1. Take as many dance workshops as possible.
2. Paint. Every chance I get.
3. Beach. Sunday-Saturday and repeat.
4. First Friday's.
5. Book List (another post another day)
6. Go through my entire closet.
7. Choreograph one dance every two weeks.
8. Work on my one act.
9. Have ten monologues ready to go at a moments notice.
10. Let the sun kiss my face all day everyday.


Summer 2010. Great. A great many things are missing off of this list...but it's because I know 100% that I will do them. These others are just mindful goals I would like to fulfill. Fingers crossed.


Summer rain. Summer storms. Please please please come and visit us soon. Ok? Ok. Good.

Running Home

What happens when the wind blows?

i want morrocan spices. real ones.

Nicest Thing

'Learn by practice.'
Martha Graham


While watching the older girls rehearse this morning for our dance recital tonight, one of my younger students was sitting in the chair next to me-wiggling. Wiggling like no child has ever wiggled before in the existence of the whole world. Then, suddenly...she stopped. Abruptly and quietly she just stopped moving. She sat and she sat and she sat for what must have been five minutes straight. Then, slowly and in the cutest most innocent way possible she turns to me and says 'Miss Erica...patience is hard'. I giggled and said 'Yes...it is hard. It becomes a little easier as you grow older'. She smiled and wiggled a bit into a more relaxed state then replied 'Good. I hope so.'

What do we hold?

"Who takes? (She laughs.) The world. (She gestures out.) That. (She taps her head.) This is all you can take. When I was a little girl, walking out of Poland after the bombs...the ones of us who were left. Ach. We took all the wrong things...little spoons, a duck, a purple table runner...We were so stupid. We would be holding all the wrong things for the rest of our lives, no matter where we went...Ach. I would hold the little comb to my chest all night long on the boat across the ocean, because I cannot hold my mother's hand, never again. And I think, this will save me. This will be enough. A comb she gave me. Because her hand had been on it. This wlll save me. This thing."

Zofia.
Tongue of a Bird
By: Ellen McLaughlin

'It's your eye in the storm-Watching over me'

'I have built a city here, half with pride and half with fear. Just wanted a safer place to hide. I don’t want to be safe tonight

I need You like a hurricane-Thunder crashing, wind and rain-To tear my walls down...I’m only Yours now. I need you like a burning flame. A wild fire untamed-To burn these walls down...I’m only Yours now...I’m only Yours now



I am Yours and You are mine. You know far better than I. And if destruction’s what I need. Then I’ll receive it Lord from Thee. Yes, I’ll receive it Lord from Thee...

And it’s Your eye in the storm-Watching over me. And it’s Your eye in the storm. Wanting only good for me. And if You are the war, let me be the casualty ‘Til I’m Yours alone-I am only Yours-I am Yours alone, Lord

...Come be my hurricane'

--Jimmy Needham, Hurricane




cover contest

'We can hear the first beat to the flat line'

You know when you begin to speak and you slowly start to lose track of what you originally wanted to say? Then after your ramble has started to take a giant leap off of a bridge into an entirely different subject than you ever wanted to enter you think 'oh god...this is awful'. The moment of the 'flatline'. Too late to save it. Too late to go back. Welcome to my life-my conversational life anyway.

The more I think about it...I've decided that I don't have anything really profound to say. You know-I'm ok with this. I really am. Why should anyone ever have anything profound to say all of the time. If each and every person had something amazing to say every time they opened their mouth, things would eventually stop sounding so...profound. Right? Maybe-I don't know. This is just my personal opinion but I think that I would much rather hear ramblings...yeah. Yeah, I feel that I would much rather hear the thought process happen outside of the brain than just the outcome. You can learn so much more from this-The process. It is interesting to me-what we track.

At times we focus so much on the product rather than the process and it's something that I feel many should stop and consider. I'm not just saying this to justify my ramblings, but I very much feel that it is a necessary observation that needs to take place. I know that many realize there is a process that we must go through and to let things 'take their course'...but I don't know that they really follow and take note of the process that's happening; to enjoy the process for what it is. I know I write about this a lot-but it's an essential part of life that I cross paths with far too often. So it's a part of me that I want to share.

Scribbles. When I look at the papers in front of me...that's all I see-scribbles. A set of groupings that look like a giant nonsensical mess. I don't think that I'll turn these papers in to be graded. I doubt they will be in my favor. They make perfect sense to me though. That's ok...my process.
So, instead, I've decided to take the day for myself. To recoup. 'Find my center' as they say. I'll memorize lines. Rearrange my room. Do some laundry. Catch up on some work. Call some friends. Read a book. Do some yoga. Make delicious food...essentially be a normal human being. My papers will take their course and we'll work together later-but for today-it's my day. I want to enjoy it for what it is.

I had hopes of being a theatre educator...

...but now-well-I'm not so sure.


As shockingly funny as this may be at first (because it's Scareface-and children doing scareface is a crazy thing in and of itself) but the video is totally the opposite of everything that myself and millons of educators have worked towards for promoting a positive and healthy environment for the arts...a positive and healthy environment period. It's just kind of sad.

'Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa...'

Today, I bought some vinyl...




...and now, i want more vinyl...

if i owned a little shop on the corner...

sixty years later

Consumption.
Spring Break.

I feel that often the two can go hand in hand. Mine started right off the back by walking into the door; Briefly greeted by a very excited pup and then I was handed a bag...a bag by my mother...with a dress inside. A wedding dress. A wedding dress from the 1970's. At first I thought - "Ummm...seriously, mom, thanks but no thanks." THEN I realized that "Oh my gosh. This is a real wedding dress from the 70's-how cool!!!" THEEEEN I opened it up to look at it...


...Hideous.
Completely and utterly hideous. I'm not even going to show pictures of it.





You see, I'm in process of collecting receipts to create a wedding dress entirely based on the concept of 'consumption' with materials made of nothing but, well-receipts. So she found this for me as a model to work off of. Still...it was hideous. I wonder if later down the years we'll look back on our styles that we are so 'consumed' with now and find them...hideous? I'm sure we will. However, why is it that we are in constant cycles of repeating styles from previous eras? 'The classics.' I'm still obsessed with many of them...

Bella in the sea.

'She sang beyond the genius of the sea.'



Reason and logic versus our imagination.
Before we think or speak about anything...there are always pictures. Here is where things are stored; natural instincts. words. pictures. imagination.
Logic forces limitations.
Imagination allows for limitless possibilities.
The sea seems to be, at times, endless. The possibilities and mystery that lie beneath those waves and ripples of the blue. The transformations that could happen.

Jacques Cousteau:
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.

...Finding that we are bigger than we once thought we were-more potential, more wonder, more knowledge, more hope...should spark an inspiration to want to bring it out and more importantly, live it out. Fully and admirably. Transforming ones self from 'you' to 'You'.

unknown monk

"When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and, as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have had an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could have indeed changed the world."


As it has been said by Amelia Earhart, 'Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; knows not the livid loneliness of fear'...strong words. Impactful words. I am always in constant amazement as to how our words and actions can influence one another. Months ago there was a good aquantence of mine who spoke the kindest words to me on a day when they needed to be heard. Words of encouragement and honesty. I have recently told him that though his comments were random and unprepared, they were still meaningful and extremely humbling to me. Those words have stuck with me for months and have influenced the way I see and act on certain things-in a beautiful way. I feel that sewing seeds comes with patience, ceasing opportunities, and vigor-truth comes with passion and directness-and love of another human being, this, this is the simple compassion that we don't have to plan out-we can all have and show for one another day in day out. This is how we can begin a process of change; Within ourselves first so that the inner becomes outer and compassion, truth, and seeds are shared and grown among a community of brothers and sisters walking together with strength and hope.

On the streets of New York

"Levi Johnston Has Fallen on Hard Times"

Man with bongo: Who's that baby mama?! Who's that baby mama?!
Man with bongo, putting on blonde wig: I'm that baby mama! I'm that baby mama!
Man with bongo: Who's that baby daddy?! Who's that baby daddy?!
Man with bongo, taking off blonde wig: I'm that baby daddy! I'm that baby daddy!


Taken from overheardinnewyork.com

Victoria:

O magnum mysterium...quite arguably the most gorgeous piece of work out there to date...it is definitely a piece that is near to my heart. I can honestly say that there are few pieces of music that I have sung in the past that really stick with me and pop into my brain wanting to burst out into song-however-this, this is possibly the one that is hummed more in a day by me than any other song out there. I miss singing this-it was my favorite a few years back. I miss singing. I miss choir. I miss the confidence. I miss the power behind song. I miss the fullness of the sound. I miss the arrangements. I miss the bonds artists have when bringing a piece of work through music together. I miss the expression I was able to have every day. I just miss it.

Victoria: O magnum mysterium

Awful video, but it's the best quality I could find...I suppose you could learn it if you'd like.


'O great mystery,
and wonderful sacrament,
that animals should see the new-born Lord,
lying in a manger!
Blessed is the Virgin whose womb
was worthy to bear
Christ the Lord.
Alleluia!'

I took a quiz, I'm not a hipster nor am I a scenester.

...but do we really need quizes to tell us what we love or who we are?

Still love this guy.




Dov Charney, hipster Jesus and founder of American Apparel.

here to stay

my goal is to have a mob group sing this.
like improv everywhere dances...but with singing.

everybody everybody wants wants and wants to be seen

for real

to build a home

to build something.
a home.
a poem.
a piece of music.
they are all creative and forthright in their own ways-all unique.
yet all, if done correctly and sturdy and structured.
a structure.
a foundation.

to build upon a foundation is essential if wanting to go somewhere if wanting or needing something to stand strong.
something.
something. something.
nothing?
nothing is always something. there is always something because there is never nothing.
going back to the foundation of what matters. to build new again. to create a structure for strength and beauty.
to understand why and where to go...it is a process. it is a beautiful symphonic process that we all must go through time and time again to know what it is we must reevaluate or sharpen our tools if unsturdy. then, and only then can the home be complete. though...there are always projects to be tweeked. always. this is what makes it beautiful.

i gotta have spring

come on spring.
get here.
please.

i want to have a picnic. with grapes. and cheese. and wine. and blueberries. and strawberries. and patchwork blankets. and guitars. a hippie picnic in the spring is what i want. i can't have a picnic with this tired, mad, and mean winter. i'm ready for some sunshine. sunshine and sundresses and barefeet. i'm ready to let my hair down and watch my freckles come out. spring-we need you. please please please. i think everyone is going crazy. come on spring. get here. please?

'no amount of coffee, no amount of cryin, no amount of whiskey, no amount of wine. no no no, nothing else will do, i gotta have you'
'

Pressing Flowers

...Not a big fan of roses. I never really have been. I don't know if it's the fact that they're semi cliche or if I just really really do not like them. Yellow roses...yellow roses I like, they're pretty and they are rare but so wonderful. Friendship.

Growing up, all sides of the house were always full of flowers and vast arrays of foliage. Wildflowers, Tulips, Black Eyed Susans-amazingly beautiful flowers that spring up from the ground like clockwork each and every year. Spring. Even when it wasn't spring, I remember coloring flowers of all sorts. Every kind I could imagine, whether they were real or not, flowers I would draw. Most of them looked like Carnations-or Daisys. I loved Carnations. I loved Daisys. Still do. I know they are often considered wild flowers-or a weed even-but still, they are absolutely my favorite flower. These flowers make me smile. These flowers remind me of home. These flowers are so simple, but so so complex. These flowers last-much longer than roses. These flowers that some consider 'homely' or 'not romantic' are my flowers-these flowers are beautiful to me. These flowers, are my favorite.

i'm always learning.

cannon

still obsessed with this dance

Baby Joshua

Years ago I spoke with the Chaplin of a hospital in Kansas City. Within the hour he spoke very highly of his position and gave myself and others bits of wisdom to carry in our pockets...though, throughout the hour there was not one piece of wisdom greater than the story that he told which will forever be carried in my heart.

A mother. A young mother asked to see this Chaplin multiple times. After hours upon hours of waiting due to a very busy day he finally stepped up to the doorway of his favorite part of the hospital-the babies. Full of life, full of compassion, full of life waiting before them. He said that walking into that room was like walking into the throws of God's hope. The new mother sat in the rocking chair holding her beautiful new baby. She did not acknowledge the fact that he had finally come to her call. The Chaplin cleared his throat. "aaahemm". She did not look up. He quietly said "That's a beautiful baby you have there". The mother still did not look up from her child. Instead, a very quiet "Mmhmm" escaped from her lips. Pleased that she knew he was there, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, busy day". Again, nothing but the faint hum of "Mmhmm" from the mother. Eager to meet the newborn, "Boy or Girl?". After a few moments, the mother affectionately whispered "A boy...". Peeking over the invisible fence between them, the Chaplin nods in approval of her happiness. "A handsome boy he is. Does he have a name?" Another few rocks of the chair later, "Joshua" is revealed to be the his name. "Joshua David". Together they both share the pleasure of silently meeting one another for the first time. Without ever looking up from her precious baby boy, the mother tells her own story-of her son.

"You see, I know that you have had a long day, and I thank you for seeing me. I also know that you know I am Jewish and are probably wondering why I asked you to see me. But, I simply wanted to share the joy of life with you today. I want to tell you about my son Joshua David...We have such plans for him. God blessed us with this birth and He has such plans for him as well. A child, learning to crawl, learning to walk, the mess of crayons strewn along the living room and stuck in the crevasse of the carpet between the wall. A lot of firsts too. His first smile. His first laugh. His first steps. His first birthday. His first friend. His first day of school. His first date. Even his first fight...A lot of firsts. A big heart he has too. Caring. Intentional. Giving. My husband and I would spend hours talking about what kind of a person we hoped he would become. A loyal friend. A loving husband. A selfless father...and someday...a wise grandfather. A whole life we would think of for our son...a beautiful life. A beautiful life. A beautiful life...Joshua's life..." at this point the new mother looked up at the Chaplin for the first time with tears filling her eyes. "...But my beautiful son Joshua will never actually be able to live the life we dreamed for him. We were blessed to have him for only a few moments before he was gone. Stillborn they said...but you know...it is the Jewish faith that he is not gone entirely-just the physical body. His life still lives-as long as his story is told. Chaplin, I told you the story of our son Joshua just now, and it is my hope that you can continue to keep the memory of my son alive by telling his story-telling of his beautiful life and what a blessing he is to all. My son, my beautiful Joshua. My beautiful beautiful Joshua..."

When my world is shaking

Go back to the beginning.
Go back to the beginning, to your foundation, to the problem, to where it all feels right-then go from there.
As a child, this is what we are told to do if things begin to feel a little hazy. To not start over, but to go back to the start and work through whatever problems we're having.
Going back is a tricky thing-you've already gone through it, so sometimes it's easy to skip over the parts we don't want to do again-or the parts that we think we know how to do.
...that's the problem-we think we know how to go through the steps correctly.
The trick is to sensibly follow our instincts to where we feel we should stop-back to that foundation. To where it all feels right. Then, once we've reached this...it is time to observe. Observe both the good and the bad-the sweet and the sour. Do not dwell, do not indulge-just observe. Take in what you might have missed before that would make that moment more glorious for you that what you missed before. It's all there, every moment of every day has beautiful and endearing moments...but we move through life too quickly to really see them and embrace them because we think we know how to go through life. We don't. We really really don't. The old women tell us 'youngins' to slow down for a reason. They can't go back-we can't either, but if we recognize how beautiful the world is, it will be easier for us to experience what we're meant to. The glory of life.

A little list of home.

Being on stage has it's obstacles. Lines. Blocking. Costumes. Lights. True Meaning. Focus. Plus so much more. While on stage, as much as you want to live in the world in which you and others have tried so hard to create-really-the last thing you want is for something to invade that space and destroy it. The unexpected. An actors nightmare. Though this is so true, it's interesting to seem to really want real life to blend so easily from off the stage to on. Funny how that works huh? Tonight during a scene, something that happened sparked a core within me that I hadn't thought of in a long time. Home. I starting thinking about my house. Not just the structure-but the little things within in that warm my heart to drift there so often. My home home.

The way the light hits the wood floor in the summer evenings. The smell of fresh cut grass with the doors flung open. The way Lily sits by the back door with her head cocked ever so slightly making up her mind if she wants to go out or if she is content. How the curtains in my room sway with the breeze-only here do they dance the dance they do. The spice rack by the stove-little nick knacks around the house. Scratches in floors, on walls, in furniture and the stories of how they came to be. Great hide and seek places. Fall memories of leaf piles, Halloween candies, and spiced smells that seep into the walls that almost seem to last year round. Winter emotions with the crackling of our fireplace in the den-the twinkle of the lights in the dark late at night. Spring lilies sprouting up round the house-standing by the door watching mom tend to her garden day in day out. Summer rain pounding, beating, pleading to come in from the storm-the only comfort that surrounds those days is the binding of books that are shared. Evenings on the porch. Singing with dad. The simplicity of a family dinner. The simplicity of life. The necessity for love and compassion towards one another. The generosity of a neighbor. The fondness of normalcy-the habit of home.

Life happens and develops-it surrounds and influences everything it touches whether we as humans want it to or not. Tonight, it appeared both on and off the stage. The life prior to me stepping onto the stage was brought back to me like a drifting bottle, and only by a small word that was said in the world on stage that we had created: love. The whole show is about love, but it isn't until the end that we hear a listening-a game-a poem-of the little things in life that in a seasonal round about way, have meaning. These little things spark passion, memories, life cycles...love. The relationship between instances in life and a human being is well...astonishing to me...These little things are not so little-but monumental in the fact that they have rooted such meaning in the characters lives on stage that they have created who they are and the lives they live. It really makes you wonder what 'little' things have influenced your life and the way you live it-or more so, the 'little' things that you have influenced upon others lives that may have caused them to live a certain way or wonder a specific thought.

Still...what amazes me even more-is how the simple things in life have such meaning and steal such focus because of the fact that they are simple and beautiful and tangible. The things that are really meaningful in life have a magical way-a being almost in which they are able to reach out across boundaries as if on a brisk evening stroll from beyond the world of that fourth wall and into the minds and lives of the characters standing on that black stage. In my opinion, Truth in life, Truth in love, Simplicity of being alive and thankfully living, The honesty of it all-if honesty is really and truly happening-is such a gift. A gift that feels like the comfort and beauty...of the affectionately demure habits of home.

'hello! i'm here to dance-hello!!!!???!

one of my absolute favorites.
forever and always.

Against the Grain

There's something so special about looking at something old. A headboard made of wood, shined and cleaned to it's best at this date, holding the stories within its smudges and knots. So simple yet so complex with it's ridges bound tightly together. It's odd to think that the wood of this frame was grown for years upon years together, almost as a family, and now it's here. Stained and shiny, years of use holding stories upon stories as it has so warningly sat above the heads of dreamers.

'You need not to climb mountain tops, you need not to cross the sea. You need not to find a cure for everything that makes you weak. You need not to reach for the stars when life becomes so dark, and when the wind does blow against the grain, you must follow your heart'

I find it interesting that the deeper and more silently you sleep, the more vivid the dream. These are the dreams that are hard to shake. These are the nights it's harder to wake...then, we you finally do...everything seems a little different. As if you have already lived what you dreamed, real friends, real things, real life. It has shaped the world you now live in. Not tangible, just a little odd and fuzzy.

'When all your friends have come and gone and the sun no longer shines. And the happiness for which we long is washed away like an oceans tide. When all the hard times outweigh the good, and all your words are misunderstood, when the day seems lost from the start-you must follow your heart.'

The day goes about with images of that dream washing in and out of your mind much like the waves of an ocean, yet you can't wash them away. They are real to you. They happened. Still...the tangible life must continue.

'If you feel you've paid the price and the wounds just cease to heal and everything you love in life spins like a winding wheel. If you should wake to find you're abandon and the road you travel leads to a dead end and death creeps in to play it's part-you must follow your heart.'

But the long day will come to an end when the comfort of that knotted wooden headboard will offer a place for those dreamers. This, is home. This is where the dreams become tangible. The real, because, it is real to you, so it must be true-right? The stories will unfold into the folds and crevasses of the wood. They can climb mountain tops, they can cross the sea, find cures for everything that makes those weaker. Stars can be reached at all costs and when the wind does blow against the grain...the heart will be followed. The dreamers heart will be followed to what is true and what is real.

Cooooooooooooool New Blog-Maybe

There's this thought that's brewing around in my noggin...a new blog for just music posts/interesting videos. Maybe. This may happen. No one will look at it though "No one reads your blog Brian!". Thank you Second City Improv for promoting this fact that we all already secretly know but won't ever confess.

Also, best part of my day went like this:

'Ok dancers, today we're going to move on and learn how to do a cartwheel. Now this is what the steps are in slow motion...(shows the steps in slow motion) and this is what you will be able to do with lots of practice and when you go faster...(does a real cartwheel).
(The loudest five year old in the class, but this time at a whisper) "Cooooooooooooooooooooooool".

Yeap, that's right. I am Cooooooooooooooooooooooool.

a writer i will be

A pen that scratches...a pen that scratches. That is what I need. A pen that when put to paper scratches as words that bind together into a story come pouring out the tip and onto the soon to be filled paper. Then I could be a writer. A true writer. A true writer with a pen that scratches...maybe a feather could possibly be attached to it as well. :-) Then I would really be a writer. A real writer with no boundaries, no ceasing, only words words and more words. Words that flow as gently or harsh as waves of the sea. I will take a trip to the forest to write. There in the forest is where my pen will scratch away and create what it will.
Yep. That's what I need.

A pen that scratches, three pages a day, don't throw the paper away and fill my room with stories from sea to shore and even more...a writer I will be. LaDaDadada, LaDadadaaah Da da da, daa dum.



fun find.

um excuse me miss...

(Ladies restroom in a hip wine bar. Two stalls. Jazz music is heard overhead to 'You don't own me')

'You don't own me-la la lala la laa--No, You DON'T OWN ME!!!'
(Flush. Pause)

'Um, excuse me miss-your singing sounds really pretty'.





how. embarrassingly funny.
what a week i had.

one woman show

love love love love them.

A Homegrown Poem

It's winter in Kansas
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At thirty-five below.

Oh, how I love Kansas
the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Kansas
I'm frozen to the ground!

Nine.

wow red carpet.