I have a sparkly, black dress for New Year's Eve.

Sometimes I feel like I'm looking at a spinning thing, whirling, zooming round, but all I can do is look. And occasionally I feel an overwhelming responsibility for this thing, but I feel so, I don't know, powerless? What a strange situation.
Strange? Complicated? Horrifying? Multi-faceted? Delicate? Peculiar? Earth-shatteringly real? Wondrous?

Confusing?

But then, these are words I often use to describe the things I love best.




"Give me hope. I need a little, just a little."
K.S.Rhoads Dark Hotel

My city through the eyes of my iPhone

It's quite tinsel-ed.

Some of my ancestors:

It's always nice to find out you are descended from nobility, and such was the case yesterday as I was working on a series of my 10th great grandparents. I give you, Thomas Howard, 21st Earl of Arundel and Lady Alethea Talbot, both painted by Peter Paul Rubens. RUBENS.

Point Me At Lost Islands (Tired Pony)

By the look in your down-turned eyes,
you've had enough of these angry skies.
I can't wait just like you can't wait
until we're out, past familiar gates.

Your hands are freezing cold on my face,
just like the winter snow that covers up this place.

It's what you wrote in the book's first page.
It's what I've hungered for on that stage.
Those seven words shook the life back in,
so let's just run 'til we lose our breath.

Point me at lost islands. Point me at the sea.
I'd love to know the sound of nothing else but you.

For the life of me, I don't know
what took us so long, but here we are.
Standing face to face, suddenly
everything makes sense, at least to me.

Ok, I admit it. I'm insanely sorry that I ever cut my hair. Can I have it back now?

This is some of why I chase my ancestors.

My 10th Great Grandmother, Frances Hutchins, was often in court in the mid 1600's in Massachusetts for, ". . . wearing a silk hood." The law she broke was written to combat ". . . intolerable excess and bravery in dress."

What a woman.

Born

(Bergquist/Detweiler {aka Over the Rhine})

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find

Intuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got
I don't mind

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be

Secret fears, the supernatural
Thank God for this new laughter
Thank God the joke's on me

We've seen the landfill rainbow
We've seen the junkyard of love
Baby it's no place for you and me

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear



_______________________________


It's one of those songs that I wish I had written, and one that I feel I could have written.

Me on a pony, 1990

I've been laughing at this photo all day.

Time to start buying gifts for my friends and family! So far the only people I'm done shopping for are my niece and nephew. Kids are so easy to shop for.

I love anything that haunts me . . . and never leaves.

-Jeff Buckley

Christmas Video Countdown!

23 days till Christmas!

Last night I sat on the porch of my favorite coffee house in Nashville, reading some Byatt and sipping some coffee (a Mochahontas) while waiting for my brother to get finished with a meeting. I saw people sitting at the same table together, talking loudly about nothing to no one, and looking around to see who was there/who was watching them. It was strange. When I go there, I sit with my friends (there are ALWAYS people I know there, wonderful, wonderful people) and we talk to each other, we look at each other.


When Gabe was finished, we went inside and started talking about how good looking John Wilkes Booth was. Strange topic of conversation? Maybe, for most, but for us? No way.






Then we walked across the street and sat with some other friends for a while before making our way to the cabin to watch lots of Mad Men. By the time we got there, we were so tired that we only made it through one episode.

I'm not sure what my point is here, other than just feeling the need to send these words into space about the city.

Some music that is about how I live my life:

And a Christmas song:

The work of Collete Calascione

Goodwill to men

On Saturday I was out book shopping at the Goodwill near my parents' house. I was quietly and intently searching the titles for something interesting. Just as I was turning to take the three books I'd found to the check out, a voice began speaking to me.

The wee voice said, "If you see a copy of The Shack, could you pass it to me?"

The voice had short, curling gray and white hair, a strangely formed, pinched-up sort of nose, skin all be-speckled like a tan egg, and blinking eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles. She was a short, rounded lady of around 75.

"Yes I will," I said, smiling.

"I read it a year ago and then today, can you believe it, there was an interview about the author in the Guideposts!?"

"Really? Interesting. I haven't read it yet."

Then she got really excited. "The photographer in the interview had decided to give some money to someone in need about 5 or 6 years ago, and he came upon the story of a man who needed some money, so he snuck up to his little house and slipped a couple hundred dollars under his front door."

"Then what?" I asked, knowing that this conversation was bound to be a long one, but not minding talking with this lady. That morning I had awakened to an empty day and had resolved to roll with the flow of what came my way, and see it as a sort of divine adventure. This was surely a part of my divine adventure.

"Well, all these years later he goes to take the photos for this interview of the author of The Shack and he arrives at the site and it is the same house where he put the money under the door. He couldn't stand it any longer, so he asked the author if he lived there 5 or 6 years ago. He said he had. The photographer asked him if he got an envelope filled with money one Christmas. The author said he had, again, and asked if the photographer had put it there. And of course he had. The author told him that the money had enabled him to get a few copies of The Shack printed for close friends and family as a Christmas gift, and that one of those copies had found its way to a publisher, and the rest was history."

"That's crazy! What an amazing meeting! And after all that time!? I love stories like that."

"And have you read Nora Roberts' books?"

"No." I replied, thinking of the stack in my hands: Faulkner, a book about the Mason Dixon line, and a book about rivalry between two magicians in 18th century England.

"Well, you should read this one," she said as she held up a book with roses and flames on the front, "it is about finding a husband. My daughter-in-law has it too. She loved it."

"Wonderful" I thought sarcastically, "sounds horrible."
"Sounds neat!" I heard myself reply instead, beginning to doubt the divinity of this adventure.

"And this book, The Bride's Necklace, is about true love and whoever wears the necklace finds their true love."

"That sounds cool too." But not cool, and certainly not divine, not adventurous.

"Oh, I'm also looking for a book called The Blue Dahlia," she said.

"I'll keep an eye out for that one too." At least that one sounded better.

"Thanks so much. What kind of books do you like?" she asked.

"Well, that's hard to say, I like lots of sorts of books. I have a William Faulkner book here, The Sound and the Fury. He's really great. I like American short stories. I read a lot of classics. I love poetry too. And history, these other two books I have are about history. I was an English major in college, so I read a lot. Well, English and Art. I read a lot of art history/theory too. And Ayn Rand. I love Ayn Rand, and A.S.Byatt."

She didn't really say much of anything back, but instead stared smiling, blinking, back at me. I repeated my offer of looking for The Shack for her, and she thanked me again.

I looked for a few more minutes, and then I started to leave. I realized I'd missed a shelf, so I walked over to it to see what was there. The first title I read: The Shack.

I was so excited! I walked over to her and said, "It's your lucky day! Look what I found. I can't believe it!"

She squealed, made all sorts of happy sounds, hugged me very tightly about my waist, and said, "I knew you'd find it! I knew it! Thank you!"

"Well, you're welcome," I said, stepping back, "you have a good rest of the day."

"You too sweetheart."

Adventure. I wondered at her 'knowing' I would find the book for her, and at my willingness to discount the meeting as non-adventure-material when I heard the names of the books she liked. I used to think the line between the divine and the mundane was a blurry one, but I think I've come to the conclusion that there is no such line. Everything is divine, everyday.

Gotta love someecards.

Thanksgiving Eve

Last night, at midnight at Waffle House, we decided that today, on Thanksgiving Eve, we would gather at our parents' house and watch these two films:

The Fountain



And The Tree of Life



I love living.
I love films about life, death and trees.


11.29.2011 Update: We never got around to The Fountain, we took too long eating for two movies.

And now I finally get to force Gabe to watch it.

The Giant Autumn Moon

This is what I was chasing on the way home from work last week. Look at it! It is just there along the hill/horizon.



This one is blurry, but you can get a good idea of the size.

I feel like I make this face a lot. Sort of confused and amused. Conmused.

Recently discovered the work of Graham Franciose. Go love it.

My veterans

My great-grandfather, Jim Wygle, US Navy.



He got to travel the world. He had serious photography skills, and we are lucky enough to have most of the photos he took. I'm hoping to organize a show of his photos from WWII, they are really something. Here's one:



My grandfather, Larry Starner, US Navy (along with his three older brothers). He's holding my dad in this picture.

Some new doodles over on the art site:

http://www.meiskastarner.com/

Spent way too long this morning attempting to get Radiohead tickets for Atlanta in the fansite's pre-sale. What a disaster. No one knew what time it was starting, how many tickets there were, or why little spurts of tickets were being released. It was frustrating. Oh well, still hoping to get a pair on Saturday when they go on sale to the public.

Stolen from Carson Ellis' blog.

Liiiiiiife.

Slow down, a little.
Teach me things that I probably should have figured out by now.

November

I get to go back to work on Monday, which is a very good thing! November is showing some serious promise so far.

* Trees are at their most lovely

* Saw Butterfly Boucher and Katie Herzig on Friday with the Gnome and Caity-Caity, stood next to people like Matthew Perryman Jones, Matt Odmark and Derek Webb, gotta love Nashville

* I started helping my mom set up all her Christmas decorations at her house, thankful that she is feeling pretty good right now

* A year ago today I saw Sufjan Stevens in Atlanta

* I got to sleep in an hour later today and experience an altered reality where I question what time really is

* I've acquired so much good music this month already

* Had a family movie night last night at my parents' house with Luke, Chelsey, Gabe, Tanya, Anca and le Mére and le Pére

* Going right now to enjoy delicious food with one of my best friends, Brittany, and her Fiancé



Mmm, mmm, good.

October

I spent the last half of October in the hospital, and then at home in bed, with a really rare, really bizarre virus that causes one to feel as if they are experiencing late stage rheumatoid arthritis (which was pretty freaky considering I'm only 25 and very healthy). Painful is an understatement. At first I couldn't use my ankles and wrists much, and then it started to affect my elbows and knees. Thankfully most of the pain is gone now. (UPDATE 3.5.12: my follow up appointments have revealed that the doctors think that I probably actually had rheumatic fever. Leave it to me to get a 19th century sickness.)

I can't wait to be back at work and normal life, and I'm much better than when it started, but now I have a cold on top of everything. I must need downtime. Or something.

I rode with my parents up into the wilds of Kentucky one day to visit my mother's aunt. Here are some blurry pictures I took in a medicated state from the back of a van:






I've missed Kentucky. The only glimpses I get of it are when my brother and I drive our friend up to Indiana University.

October and the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear.
What do I care?

October and kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall
But you go on
And on.


-U2 October

I went to my grandparent's house on Saturday night. It was nice.

The sky looked crazy this morning, like an alien attack complete with a beaming abduction ray.

Live on the Green tonight!

This is happening!

http://missthistledesign.blogspot.com/

Almost ready to go!

OCTOBER!

“Listen! The wind is rising,
and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings,
now for October eves!"

Humbert Wolfe

I love October. It means so much to me, all crisp and startling as it is.

The cemetery tour was on the 1st of October this year, and the temperature dropped radically just before we were to start giving tours, which made it even better (except that Josh's knee socks kept sliding down, making his knees freeze {perils of 18th century clothing}). So, with our pumpkin spice lattes in hand, with our knees and shoulders freezing, and with the stars winking above, we led groups of people through the candle-lit cemetery for the 7th or 8th year in a row. It was so lovely, even if I saw zero shooting stars and Josh saw 5 or 6.

I have days filled with:

A. Newness and goodness.

B. The familiar and the enchanted.

C. Soaring hope.

D. All of the above







"D" is the correct answer.

Mmmm

It's fall in the Heartland. Life is intricate and delicious and crispy. It is caramel-warm and silver-cool. It is dancing.

I can't imagine life with out my niece and nephew.

U2's Red HIll Mining Town (The only song I can think of that mentions Labour Day. Plus it is one of my all-time favorites.)

From father to son
The blood runs thin
Ooh, see the faces frozen (still)
Against the wind.

The seam is split
The coal-face cracked
The lines are long
There's no going back.

Through hands of steel
And heart of stone
Our labour day
Has come and gone.

They leave me holdin' on
In Red Hill Town.
See the lights go down on ...

Hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to.
I'm still waiting
I'm hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to.

The glass is cut
The bottle run dry.
Our love runs cold
In the caverns of the night.

We're wounded by fear
Injured in doubt.
I can lose myself
You I can't live without.

Yeah, you keep me holdin' on
In Red Hill Town.
See the lights go down on

Hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to.
I'm still waiting
I'm hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to
On to.

We scorch the earth
Set fire to the sky
And we stooped so low
To reach so high.

A link is lost
The chain undone.
We wait all day
For night to come
And it comes like a hunter (child).

I'm hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to.
I'm still waiting
I'm hangin' on
You're all that's left to hold on to.

We see love, slowly stripped away
Our love has seen its better day.
Hangin' on
Lights go down on Red Hill
The lights go down on Red Hill.
The lights go down on Red Hill.
The lights go down on Red Hill Town..

Wings and Feathers Guggenheim Grotto

maybe we’re mad, it’s possible
you’re talkin again like your books and your movie scenes
I’m thrown myself at the world like a lunatic
you’re a rocket, exploding like spiders across the stars
tonight we take the city
the marrow and the fringes
we’ll set our dogs on beauty
we’re growing wings and feathers
we’ll drink the wine that moves us
and if we don’t break… we’re not trying hard enough
Baby you’re mad you’re incredible
and I can’t resist you you and your crazy talk
tonight we take the city
the marrow and the fringes
we’ll set our dogs on beauty
we’re growing wings and feathers
we’ll drink the wine that moves us
and if we don’t break… we’re not trying hard enough

Oooo!

http://missedconnectionsny.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-was-face-painter-at-party-today.html

________________________________

Making some huge decisions about my soon-to-be place of residence this week . . .

________________________________


I am unabashedly following my bliss.

From Ayn Rand's "Anthem," which I finished reading today:

Here, on this mountain, I and my sons and my chosen friends shall build our new land and our fort. And it will become as the heart of the earth, lost and hidden at first, but beating, beating louder each day. And word of it will reach every corner of the earth. And the roads of the world will become as veins which will carry the best of the world's blood to my threshold. And all my brothers, and the Councils of my brothers, will hear of it, but they will be impotent against me. And the day will come when I shall break all the chains of the earth, and raze the cities of the enslaved, and my home will become the capital of a world where each man will be free to exist for his own sake.
For the coming of that day shall I fight, I and my sons and my chosen friends. For the freedom of Man. For his rights. For his life. For his honor.
And here, over the portals of my fort, I shall cut in the stone the word which is to be my beacon and my banner. The word which will not die, should we all perish in battle. The word which can never die on this earth, for it is the heart of it and the meaning and the glory.
The sacred word:
EGO

__________________________________________

http://missedconnectionsny.blogspot.com/2011/02/you-with-hat.html

I can't decribe how this photograph makes me feel:

. . . other than,
"We'll shine like stars in the Summer night,
we'll shine like stars in the Winter night,
one heart, one hope, one love."

______________________________

http://www.illustrationserved.com/gallery/some-illustrations/748052
(It won't let me make a link, so go old-school and copy/paste. It's worth it.)

_______________________________


It's so funny to think of the person I was 10 years ago. Or 5 years ago. Or 1 year ago. I'm so thankful for the ways I've grown and changed.

________________________________



And as an added treat, I give you a video my nephew made on my new iMac. I created a monster when I showed him how to work the video in photo booth. He is 8.

It is finished

I finished The Fountainhead Sunday morning and spent the rest of the day going crazy, weeping and wondering. So good.

Can't Wait

My signed copy of this delightful work is making it's way to my doorstep even as I type. Can't wait to read it.

Written by one of my favorite musicians (Colin Meloy of The Decemberists) and illustrated one of my favorite illustrators (Carson Ellis). AND THEY ARE MARRIED! Wonderful.

goodness

I got to work an hour early to sit under a row of too-long-untrimmed bradford pear trees and read The Fountainhead. I was almost late for work.

__________________________________________


"Now, talk. Talk about the things you really want said. Don't tell me about your family, your childhood, your friends or your feelings. Tell me about the things you think."
Mallory looked at him incredulously and whispered:
"How did you know that?"
Roark smiled and said nothing.
"How did you know what's been killing me? Slowly, for years, driving me to hate people when I don't want to hate.... Have you felt it, too? Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you--except the things that count? And your most important is nothing to them, nothing, not even a sound they can recognize. You mean, you want to hear? You want to know what I do and why I do it, you want to know what I think? It's not boring to you? It's important?"
"Go ahead," said Roark.
Then he sat for hours, listening, while Mallory spoke of his work, of the thoughts behind his work, of the thoughts that shaped his life, spoke gluttonously, like a drowning man flung out to shore, getting drunk on huge, clean snatches of air.

~from Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead.

Last night I sat on the roof of the Hard Rock Cafe in Nashville with Tanya, Josh, and Scott (a friend and co-worker of Josh's) after Scott's show. He and I got into an intense discussion about music. It was intense because, for the most part, we agreed on everything. I got to spill my brain's thoughts about The Joshua Tree. It was fun.

The Joshua Tree is wonderful because it is simultaneously the most comforting and the most upsetting thing. It is dark and light.
It's that tension, that life, that makes it shine all truthful and real.

'The Dress Looks Nice on You' - Sufjan Stevens

I can see a lot of life in you.
I can see a lot of bright in you.
And I think the dress looks nice on you.
I can see a lot of life in you.

I can see a bed and make it too.
I can see a fireside turn blue.
And I can see the lot of life in you.
Yes, I can see a lot of life in you.

When the world looks back,
when the face looks after that,
I can see a lot of life in you.
Yes, I can see a lot of life in you.

I can see a lot of life in you.
I can see your bed and make it too.
And I think the dress looks nice on you.
Yes, I can see a lot of life in you.
I can see a lot of life in you.
Yes, I can see a lot of life in you.

_____________________________________

That's my kind of dress, one that reveals all that about a person.

'Celebrities Who Look Like Famous People'

And there's more where that came from here.

So happy.

God is so good. I mean, He lets you see things just when you need to.

So that you can laugh uncontrollably.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

___________________________________



See how empty the room is? I am packing up to move!
And I achieved Marilyn Monroe hair, finally. Well, mine's red, but whatever. The style is the same.

Something I said last night in a dream:

'I breathe in music and chase after light,
I listen to silence and wait for the night.'

I'm not sure what it really means, and I don't normally rhyme in dreams, but last night I did. What's even more odd is that I can remember it today. Strange.

______________________________________

Anyways

I got to eat dinner with a) Bethany, my best friend since I was like 14, and b) Jasmine, a friend from grade/high school. We all three went to the same church/school growing up and were all reunited for Bethany's wedding in April. It was such a nice time of catching up. Of course, I was the odd man out, being the only unmarried lady, but that was fine by me. No longer can we say, "When I grow up . . ."; we are grown up, as scary and wonderful as that is.

Afterwards Luke, Chelsey, Josh and Tanya came over to the house to spend the evening with Gabe and I. Josh decided to teach us spades, so Luke and Chelsey were team "Starman" and Josh and I were the "Thistles." Gabe watched lots of youtube videos (Reeve Carney/Bono/Edge "Rise Above", cartoons from our childhood, etc) while we played and we all laughed when we Gabe played the Courage the Cowardly Dog episode "freaky Fred."

The Thistles won, naturally.

Then we talked about our personality types for a couple of hours. We are trying ot find out why Chelsey can't peg her's down. Every time she takes a test, she gets a different result.

Gabe-INFJ
Me-INFP
Luke-ENFJ
Josh-ENFJ
Tanya-ENTJ (Our only 'T'! Hilarious because we all call her T.)
Chels-? (she does consistently get I and F)

And then it was Ayn Rand time!

It was a good night, a right night. I wish every night was like it.

Dear Graduate School,

Why do you always hang around and then tell me you will be fun and exciting when I get over-filled with the mundane-ness of life?

To go or not to go? That is the question. Here are some more questions:

Do I want to spend 2-3 years of my life studying painting? I wouldn't mind it.
Do I want to spend 2-3 years of my life in a town where I see no real future for myself? No.
Do I want to spend 2-3 years of my life with out my communities? No.
Am I opposed to new communities? No, I just love mine too much to desert them.
Do I want to return to the town I love at the age of 28-29 and start all over? No.
Do I want an MFA in painting? Yes.
Will I ever use it? Who knows.
Could I do it and drive back to Nashville like once a month? Possibly . . .

500th Post!

So I've been listening to this a lot lately.



I'm excited that Reeve Carney will be playing Jeff Buckley in the new film about the singer's too-short life. Have I mentioned that I love Jeff Buckley lately? Well I do. Carney looks so much like him it's scary. And he can sing.

Friends, Shopping, Stars, Secret Creeks, Black Eyed Susans, The First Glimpses of Fall

I just had one of the most soul-soothing, life assuring weekends ever. After a blistering, too busy Summer here in the Heartland, this weekend of cooler days and leaf-crunching-ly-crisp evenings has been a balm on parched hearts. It all started on

FRIDAY:

when work seemed extra long and I was worried about how to work out my car's brake situation. Thankfully, I hitched a ride to work with Bethany and Dinah. When it was finally time to go home, I was so tired. My schedule has been all messed up from the air being out in the upstairs of our house (where I live) and then trying to pack to move. I can't think in serious disorganization, and since I am trying to organize everything before the move, I have stuff everywhere. It's very frustrating, but I'll make it. So I came home and fell asleep at the very late hour of 6:30 pm and slept until 6:00 am the next day (does that express how tired I was? I think so.). The sleep did me so much good. When I woke up on

SATURDAY:

I cleaned for a while and then went to Red Lobster with my mom for an early lunch. It was so nice, I haven't been to Red Lobster in a while, and mom is the best person to go there with, so we had a nice time. We got to talk about lots of good things and eat cheddar biscuits. What's not to love about that situation?
Straight from there I was picked up by Bethany to go out for a few hours of marathon shopping (the only kind of shopping Bethany does). We went to like 5 stores in 3 hours and pilfered their clearance racks. It was super nice because it was the first real time she and I had really been able to hang out with just each other since her wedding in April. I was thankful for that little bit of time. I bought a new pair of boots (like, early-19th-century-over-the-knee-buttons-all-the-way-up-brown-riding-boots style boots) and a dress that looks like it was made in 1926.
After that, Gabe and I got our stuff together and headed to the cabin, where we had planned our little brother Luke's Post MCAT party. Luke and Chelsey (his wife) showed up early and we had lots of fun together. Soon people started showing up: Keith, Chris, Heather, Samantha, Josh, and some more people that Luke and Gabe knew but Chelsey and I were having too much fun to remember their names. It was just such a great time with our friends. Finally, at around 3:30, I went to bed. When I woke up on

SUNDAY:

it was a beautiful day outside. It was so quiet in the house that I just silently found a copy of Shakespeare and started reading in front of Gabe's window. Gabe wasn't ever going to wake up (he was getting in bed as I was waking up) so I figured I was stuck at the cabin all day. Thankfully, Josh remembered that I car-less, and he offered to take me to church. I took him up on that and away we went. We drove North in the most beautiful weather ever, and the sun was so kind. We were running early, so he showed me a beautiful field where you can see the sky spilling out onto the world for forever. And because it was so vast and open, it was super breezy and lovely and sparkling. Eventually, we moved on to church, which was good. I love being at his church because I get to see so many people I love. There is so much hugging and laughing. Recognition. Assurance of my existence. Afterwards, a huge group of us went to Las Maracas for Josh's birthday (it was on the 12th, but he got to party all weekend). I got to see his sweet little niece Ally and his sister Amanda, two people I don't get to see enough of. The staff of the restaurant were, of course, informed that it was his birthday and he got the sombrero and whip cream in the face that he deserved for being 25 years old. We laughed. It was decided, since Ben's girlfriend had never seen it, that we should watch Nacho Libre at Travis' house. We did. We laughed. Then we thought hide-and-seek would be fun (as I always do), but we were sadly out-whined by people who wanted to do nothing, so Josh, Sam and I drove to a certain awesome road in the country that Josh had been wanting to show me, and there we found gold: a secret creek. Adventure set up residence in our hearts. We climbed, very carefully down an embankment to the water. There where so few traces of modern life (some graffiti) down there. It was enchanted. I pulled my awesome new boots off and went into the water. Josh and Sam taught me how to skip stones, which I've never known how to do. I was so content to just wander around down in that little valley. Sam started climbing the rock wall on the side of the creek and he made it all the way down to a bit of a bridge of rocks and came out to meet where Josh and I had found some black eyed Susans (I made us crowns). Then we saw it: a path. Of course, paths are made to be followed, so we did. We walked a little while until we came out in a clearing where a little farm that looked like it was 200 years old was resting. A red-ish barn, cows, and small crops, all looking very sleepy and spellbound peered back at us. The world had grown up around this place, and we felt lucky to have seen it, and that we should leave it be. It was getting dark, so we reluctantly headed back to our car and drove to the church. When we got there, lots of people were playing volleyball, so we sat around and laughed and had fun for a couple of hours.
But there was one final adventure to be had that night: we needed a shooting star.
The three of us drove out to the wide open field from that morning, wrapped ourselves in warm blankets, and searched for stars (Keith came and joined us too). Suddenly, we threw our arms up and pointed at what was a beaming bright shooting star that split into two pieces and kept going. We were amazed.



Soon it was time to go home, since we had to work the next day. I hadn't felt tired under the stars, but I slept most of the way home, I guess I was just too heavy with adventure and contentment to stay awake, so I slept. I love my life.

Sunday was one of the best days. I felt so alive, and like everything was the way it should be. Like it was almost Fall. And when I got home I found that my wonderful dad had fixed my brakes. Mmmm.

It's all going to work out fine. Better than fine. Better than we could have imagined.

In which I have a less than delightful experience with attempting to getting my brakes taken care of :

First off, let's listen to some Sufjan Stevens covering Tim Buckley:



That song is how this morning feels, which is a good thing.

But back to last night . . .

I got off work and drove straight to the car-repair place to figure out what was going on with my brakes. They had been making this little grinding sound in the very, very, very last second of stopping for the last day and a half. I thought maybe at the most it would cost me a couple hundred dollars. After waiting for a while, talking with the guy at the desk about being Star Wars nerds, they took me back to see Penelope (my green Mazada Millenia) who was hoisted up into the air with all her wheels taken off. They told me lots of things I didn't understand. They told me one thing I did understand: it would cost $1200.00 to repair. I told them that was an impossibility. I'm 25. I'm an artist. I don't have that much money. They put the wheels back on, I paid them for the inspection, and called my ever-faithful mother to pick me up because I was scared to drive it home.

Thankfully, I got to spend lots of the evening outside, under the sky, among the trees, talking about the moon in the crisp air. That helped me to feel more at ease with the brake situation. I texted my best friend, Bethany, to see if I could get a ride to work with her the next morning (we work at the same publishing company). She said it was fine, so I had a ride for today, which was comforting. When I got home, my dad said he could fix my car! And for really cheap!

I went to sleep happy. I woke up happy. I continue to be happy.

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Started reading The Fountainhead on Monday after I finished Still Life. I have a bachelor's degree in reading, after all.

Last night I drove to the city I grew up in. I was comforted by the wave of familiar trees and flow of familiar roads; roads traveled down on the way to school in the bus, to the library and park with my family, to friends' houses. And I even passed some roads yet to be traveled on.

And it felt like Fall.

I drove further north to Cross Plains to visit with friends while they were playing volleyball. I sat on a blanket in the grass with a lady who lived next door to my family for several years. We talked about my brothers' lives, my new (well, not so new now) job, Luke's wedding, my niece and nephew. We talked about her children's lives since we lived next to each other. It was nice. It was the smile of recognition I've been needing lately. A bit of existence-confirmation.
Her youngest two girls (one was a baby and the other wasn't even thought of when they moved across town), who are now 12 and 9, came and lay on the blanket with me. They were asking me all kinds of questions and being super silly. I loved it. And it went on for a good hour and a half.

I love silly-ness. I love laughter.

Afterwards, while I was talking with Josh and Travis, I saw a shooting star. I wasn't even looking for one, but there it was blazing downward in the blue-black sky.
It was a surprise, the kind that makes your heart jump and makes you smile until your face hurts because it is so sudden and so REAL that you feel all the life within you stirred to action;
like breathing deep the crystalline air of a snowy day
like collapsing in the cool grass after a long run
like love
like sunshine spilling into a quiet room
like the shivering dusks of the first few weeks of Autumn.
I followed the full-ish moon, with it's knowing smile, all the way home. It sees everything below, and casts a clear, magical light on it - making all things at once enchanted and startling. It isn't a false light, but rather a truer picture of the reality of those things - the thing fused with its spirit. More silver.

Life is mingled hurt and bliss, bittersweet.
But this night was all decadent sweetness.

Decemberists Concert!

My brother and I just before the show started! We were on the 6th row!



It was SUCH A GREAT SHOW! I've never had so much fun at the Ryman!



What a funny guy.



SETLIST:

Oceanside
Down By The Water
Calamity Song
Rise To Me
The Bagman's Gambit
The Soldiering Life
We Won't Go Down Together
Won't Want For Love
The Crane Wife 1 & 2
The Rake's Song
All Arise!
Rox In The Box
This Is Why We Fight
The Chimbley Sweep -> Folsom Prison Blues (Johnny Cash cover)(see video below!)

Encore 1:

Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye (Leonard Cohen cover)
The Mariner's Revenge Song

Encore 2:

June Hymn

And here's a high point of the evening, as captured by my unsteady hand:

Found some more lovely artwork:

Lovely

Nowadays

Luke, Chelsey, Gabe, Tanya, Emmy, Chris, Sam, Josh, and I all went to see Cowboys and Aliens last night. I wish it had been better. I wish Harrison Ford had had more one-liners. We got pizza afterwards and found a praying mantis in the street. Sam saved him/her.
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Tonight I am going to FINALLY buy my new mac! I've been saving for awhile now, and it is finally the tax-free weekend! My whole family is going with me after I get off work, they are sweet to be so excited.
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A friend of mine is getting married tomorrow. Crazzzzy. Crazy good.
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So I'm seeing the Decemberists tomorrow night at the Ryman. On the 6th row.
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I love this. And I'm also amazed that I didn't come up with it.

Birthday!

I turned 25 on Monday, you know.

My mom got me a copy of the mini-series 'The Duchess of Duke Street' and a lovely antique necklace.

Necklace:


Then I went off to work. At work they sang to me and decorated my office with a banner.

Banner:


I loved getting texts, facebook messages and emails on my birthday. I have so many wonderful people in my life, and that's what birthdays confirm. That and the fact that you are aging.

Anyways.

After work, Mom and Gabe and I went out to Carrabba's to get yummy and healthy Tag Pic Pac.

Tag Pic Pac:


Then in the final hours of my birthday, me and that-other-Leo went out to The School (which is in the middle of nowhere) and watched the Perseid Meteor shower. SO MANY STARS! And several of them dancing about and performing disappearing acts. So many wishing opportunities! Even better than a cake with 25 candles. I told Josh that it was 'like watching fireflies being smeared on the windshield of the cosmos'. He laughed. We became sleepy, and in the 'swampy August dawn' we drove home.

And that was my birthday. I loved it.

Beautiful

THIS!

25

Today I am 25. Twenty-Five.

Here are some pictures of past birthdays:



(Apparently we didn't take pictures in my family for a few years in there; if I find more evidence of my birthdays happening, I'll add them too.)

Wild Hair

Growing up, I remember hearing the expression "they must have a wild hair" when someone was talking about a person doing something crazy. I always imagined a lady with her smooth, straight hair pulled back into a tight bun, and then there would be one absolutely crazy spring-like curl sticking up out of her head.

Then I realized ALL MY HAIR IS WILD HAIR. So I don't even need an excuse for anything I do.

My fro at 8 years old:



This morning I was reminded, by my hair, that it does indeed have a mind of its own, and that it is all 100% wild.

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Speaking of hair, it has been a year since I chopped it off in a moment of desperation (well, I technically got my brother to do the official 'chopping'). For future reference: Don't make major choices about your appearance when your mother is in the hospital. It all turned out ok, thankfully.

I went from this:



To this:



It's well on its way to being long again. It sits on my shoulders right now when it's straightened, which is exciting.