.Dear Norman.

"Good artists have total control over their work and express their own vision, while searching for truth."

Spin Spin Spin SPIN!

Major League Dreidel.

Intense.

The first night of Hanukkah many gather round for their chance of glory-who can spin the dreidel the longest. 'No gelt, no glory' is the theme of the competition and with the crowd chanting "spin, spin, spin, spin" those who wish to step up to the table can feel the heightened energy in the room. Unlike the traditional dreidel that is left up to chance, here, everyone has their own personal touch of technique. The past competition started out with about 64 competitors and those were set up into brackets much like other sports competitions. Sadly, unlike other sports, Major League Dreidel is the shortest competition as well as the shortest season. This does not mean that the season is not intense...oh no, some say this is possibly the most intense sport that has ever been. Needless to say, the competitors that come from around the globe, bring their A game. Last years winner, Howard Pavony-also known as Virtual Dreidel-states that his secret to a long, long dreidel spin is "to remain calm, and not show emotion. It's like the holiday of Hanukkah itself, he says. Just as the oil in the temple burned for eight days, so too a great dreidel player has patience and spirit."




Major League Dreidel


photos found at flickr.

set all things right

Stigma: small town America. Or should I say, 'Amurica'.

For some, this means many things. American flags. Cows. Wheat fields. Barns. Walmart. Small mindedness. Pies. Trailers. Dirt. Plaid. Conservative...Natty Light.


For me, the first I think of is...home. The wave of a neighbor hanging their flag out front. The beauty in the changing of seasons. The comfort of a four way stop at almsot every corner. The security that things might be as I left them. As if I bookmarked my favorite place in my most treasured story as a child so that I could return to it at a moments notice. Yet, at the same time, change is in consistent motion. Slower than others, but still, moving. Growing. Taking the time to cherish things around the lives of folks living in a community as they grow rather then pushing through them. The tradition of the same ol same ol...secrets of baking the perfect cherry pie. How to press a shirt in just the right places. Savoring a nice cold beer on the porch at a longs days end...Conservative and slow paced for some, but, for me...this is home. This is where it begins and where it should end.My small town will be apart of me for as long as I live and no matter where my life leads me-this corny yellow brick road will lead these ruby red slippers home to where it all seems to make sense. Where things seem to fit together. Where no matter how you shake the globe, things eventually seem to settle-a bit disheveled, but settle non the less. This, this is what I am thankful for every day of the year. Our lives are able to pause. Pause just as we are. Where we are, and observe our lives and those around us. Where we are. Not to take just this one day and then push forward again, but to really pause, step back and savor how exquisite the world is. How important taking our time to savor and how pertinent it is to give a gesture of gratitude in return. The wave of a neighbor. The talk with a father. The comfort of a dog at foot. The hope that the sun will rise again for yet another breathtaking day.
Happy Endless Day of Thanks my friends.

*The last five refined photos courtesy of the best brother in the world, alec

Teacher schooled by imaginary students

...it's 11:30 on a Monday and my little body just decided to wake up. Sleeping in, is woooonderful-except, when I sleep in, I tend to have dreams. Dreams are great and everyone has them, but the dreams that I have when excessive amounts of sleep have happened are often or not more...let's just say interesting and graphic than most.

Last night I had a hand full of dreams that linked together in a peculiar sequence that, needless to say, didn't make sense at all. Sitting here, I really can't make out what exactly those dreams where; something about dandelions, elf shoes, the LA Lakers, new carpet, green beans and a factory that binds books and prints ONLY the publishing page. Like I said, odd sequence. Though, there was one dream that I found to be very interesting that also caused me to wake up with my head in whirlwind of confusion...



The Dream:
My dance class and I are sitting in a room full of mirrors. I am not saying anything but the sense in the room is that we have just finished a conversation of some importance. Quickly, but with pertinence, one my students begins to recall an entire passage from the Bible. Then, another student with their share of an entire chapter. Then, another, and another and another, and another. After they have all quoted pretty much the entire New Testament they look to me and tell me that it is my turn. Feeling awful that I am not able to deliver an entire fifteen pages+of the Bible, I tell them that all I have to offer are my favorite verses that I have collected throughout my years that have significance. Then they look at me and begin to stand up with the dream slowly stopping-there is no telling how the dream turns out, because I woke up-confused beyond belief.

-What does this mean???-

The Civil Wars

gorgeous house.
gorgeous song.
gorgeous video.

got em'

It's official.

Sasquatch lives above me.

You never see him.
You never smell him.

But you hear him.
all. the. time.
buddy, i know it's lonely being big hairy scary and alone, but please, i beg you...

stop playing hopscotch upstairs.
thank you yeti. you can be my friend-outside though.

.these rocks starting makin trouble in my neighborhood.

Rocks.
Once, they were interesting.
Now...they are just rocks.
You can no more make a rock anymore intersting than it already is than you can make an airplane fly out of sticks.
I'm sorry.

That's my peace.


Volcanoes are cool though.
That's a huuuge rock. Kind of.
-but I'm not contradicting my point-



I'll never bore with this...

the endless dream game (day)

What a day. A Sunday. I've slept nine hours watched two whole movies and I'm on my third. A bountiful breakfast of leftover popcorn and sixlets accompanied a delightful one sided conversation with my mother. Days like this are glorious.

Lets talk movies. A Paranormal Activity: Decent. Scary? At times...but I would say it was more along the lines of intriguing to the point of being startled. The 'old time' camera tricks were great, but not mystifying. The plot? It was ok. The acting? You know...after watching it I really wonder if the characters had scripted dialogue at all. I honestly think that they improved the entire show. Which was cool and made it feel more realistic but there was something missing from it, I don't know. I also think that because I knew (from word of mouth) that because all of the reeeally scariness happened in the last five minutes, everything else that happened I just considered-kind of scary. Overall, I would see it again-but not in a theatre full of high schoolers-that was mistake #1, hands down.

My Dog Skip: Movies with dogs and set in a different era are the best. That's all I really have to say about that. Luke Wilson is hot.

The Sandlot: Aaaaaamazing Sunday afternoon movie. All other movies of 'choice' for this beautiful day would just be lame-'...an L-7-weeeenie', if you will.

How about that Halloween Holiday. I dressed as Amelia Earhart. I loved my costume. The cardboard replica plane that I made to fit around my waist was a hit-but only with some. Throughout the entire night only, say, two in five people knew what I was-and that's pushing it. I take solace in the fact that it took time to create my beautifully historical accurate 'lady lindy' and others might not have cared so much about this creative holiday.

Next Halloween-already planned out.

you're not a sour egg. i promise.

Dear Blog.
I feel as though I should begin this entry with a formal greeting such as this for the simple fact that the time and energy I've spent thinking about my blog amounts to that of a complete stranger-zilch. There have been eggs that I've spent more time, consideration and inspection with recently...Blog, please accept my sincerest appology for blogging failure. I will now spend more time jotting down blogging ideas when at the store rather than creating insufficient bonds with produce items.



Obsessions are not good things-in no way do I condone having obsessions. However, I am about to immediately contradict myself at this very moment. Instead of concocting brilliant blog posts, I instead have been finding that I drift into the land of the following...My current loves and 'obsessions' in life that are small and insignificant to some...but for me, however odd they might be, light up my world like a giant patch of sunflowers.

number one

All things fall.

number two

The absolute beautiful, admirable, and strong people I'm blessed to have in my life. Elephants are my favorite animals for a reason...

number three

Really awful-but really hilarious tattoos.

number four

cute little things...like my puppy.

I want to be a Bur Oak.

I'm taking the day.
Today I'm taking my day.
I'm taking the day to rethink. recharge. redirect. whatever other ditty you might think of that fits the definition of my day.
Today I'm taking the afternoon in solitude to try and figure out why it is that we do what we do. Why it is that we desire the things we desire. Take a little stroll. Revisit the life I think of often and the things that made me fall in love with this town. Try and find the sun within this bittersweet rainy October day. James Taylor could will help me with that. I mean, he's seen fire and he's rain but most of all...he's seen sunny days that he never thought would end. He knows what's up.

The trees is a changin and boy they are pretty. Fall seems to have happened overnight. I fell asleep to Sisterhood of the Traveling pants with their summer rays and woke up to the set of Stepmom with these beautiful leaves that look as though they've been shipped from the east of New York themselves...It makes me feel as though they've gone on a vacation and left me here all year to fend for myself. The green to Iceland...the plum to England...and the speckled-the speckled ones are a real treat. They floated to Italy where they once felt the brushes of Monet himself. Oh how I wish I could be a tree sometimes. Plant my roots solidly, yet all the while my leaves would fly far far away. Corny right? I'm working on a show right now and am very much in touch with my teenage aspirations and rhyming 'daydreaming' sequences. Yet...as of late, they are not my own.

Just an observation, but it's very rare that we take our masks off. Any of us. I mean sure we're honest and true for the most part...but there's always that one fear, that one flaw, that one crack in our lives that we've spackled so well that it's hard to even see where it is on the wall. Which in a way, is wonderful...The importance of safely mending yourself must not be overlooked but I feel there is also something to be said for knowing and understand where it is and why it is there. There is also something to be said for taking a risk of vulnerability. Though a new coat of paint over this mend is all well and good...It makes it hard to relate to someone when they have bravely allowed that black mark to stand out vulnerably and say 'this is who i am'.

Venice. I would like to visit Venice someday. Or Iceland. Or even New York. You know, Meg Ryan states it so true that fall definitely issues the right to buy a bouquet of sharpened pencils. It just seems right. Maybe my acting 'skills' will help me transform into a tree. Then I could travel 'round the whooooole world. Those trees man...maybe it's those trees that know what's up.