Found Words

Purity by Billy Collins

My favorite time to write is in the late afternoon,
weekdays, particularly Wednesdays.
This is how I go about it:
I take a fresh pot of tea into my study and close the door.
Then I remove my clothes and leave them in a pile
as if I had melted to death and my legacy consisted of only
a white shirt, a pair of pants, and a pot of cold tea.
Then I remove my flesh and hang it over a chair.
I slide it off my bones like a silken garment.
I do this so that what I write will be pure,
Completely rinsed of the carnal,
uncontaminated by the preoccupations of the body.
Finally I remove each of my organs and arrange them
on a small table near the window.
I do not want to hear their ancient rhythms
when I am trying to tap out my own drumbeat.
Now I sit down at the desk, ready to begin.
I am entirely pure: nothing but a skeleton at a typewriter.
I should mention that sometimes I leave my penis on.
I find it difficult to ignore the temptation.
Then I am a skeleton with a penis at a typewriter.
In this condition I write extraordinary love poems,
most of them exploiting the connection between sex
and death.
I am concentration itself: I exist in a universe
where there is nothing but sex, death and typewriting.
After a spell of this I remove my penis too.
Then I am all skull and bones typing into the afternoon.
Just the absolute essentials, no flounces.
Now I write only about death, most classical of themes
in language light as the air between my ribs.
Afterward, I reward myself by going for a drive at sunset.
I replace my organs and slip back into my flesh
And clothes. Then I back the car out of the garage
And speed through woods on winding country roads,
Passing stone walls, farmhouses, and frozen ponds,
All perfectly arranged like words in a famous sonnet.

Lost Stories

We have lost so much.
Our words on a page are to blame.
They save sentences and words,
Thoughts and beliefs held by many and few,
But we have lost our memories.
No longer can we tell stories,
Expecting them to be told and retold,
Knowing they will stay intact and true.
Listening to a tale, learning,
Absorbing all that can be heard,
And then telling other about it,
Not as a gossip, not to spread hate,
But to teach, to help people,
To share a beautiful  history --
That is what we've lost.
We've lost our oral culture,
Our story telling tendencies.
And as precious as books are,
As much as we learn from them,
They are lacking the heart,
The joy of hearing a really good story.

This is what I do when I'm board in a class. Write poems. Problematic? Possibly...

Until next time, tell a story.

Counting, Counting

I am counting little blessings. And big ones, I suppose. Here's what I have today:

1. Productive afternoons. I wrote a paper that isn't due until Tuesday. Go me!

2. Time to primp. I don't often take extra time to put effort into getting ready. This afternoon I did.

3. Chick flicks. It's not often that I want to watch this kind of movie, but last night there were five girls in need of some girl time. Go see "The Vow." It's really good. The girl isn't a dumb bimbo, the guy wasn't trying to get sex. It was great. We were able to squee unabashedly.

4. Complaining party. I'm getting to the point where I'm tired of complaining about things I can't change, but it's reassuring that I'm not the only one who has similar things to complain about. Sure, it's not a good sign that 8 people all felt the need to have a party to complain, but at least we weren't sullen alone, right?

5. Encouraging rehearsals. Drama Ministries Ensemble had a rehearsal this morning, and it makes me feel better about performing in a church tomorrow.

6. Band concerts. I went to listen to my roommate and a few other friends at their concert last night. Wow. It was great. I'm not the biggest fan of band concerts, but this one was amazing. And I wrote a poem during it. Enjoy. :)

It sounds like a Sunday walk in the park,
Not a care in the world, just you and a walk.
It's nice, this walk. Not too slow, not too fast.
Just a walk. And I'm happy.
Imagine that.
Like I'm Mary Poppins and you're Bert,
Just a stroll through chalk pictures,
The sky is unbelievably blue,
The warm sun hits my cheeks,
and I can feel them grow red.
Though whether the source of the blush
Is the sun or from my hand in yours,
I can't quite say.
Either way, it's nice. And I'm happy.
Imagine that.
Just listen, it's all right there,
Floating through the air.
Can you hear it? The lightness of our steps,
the rustle of trees, the laughter of kids.
Can you hear it yet? I can.
That's what I hear whenever I'm with you,
Or thinking of you. I hear a Sunday walk,
The warm breeze, the sound of a band.
And it makes me happy.
Imagine that.

Until next time, count some blessings.

Simple Notes

The plucking of the guitar always tugs my heart strings

I don’t really know why

There’s just something so simple about it

I don’t need the whole band

Drums just add extra noise

If you need a beat

I can try to clap along in time

But no promises

A piano isn’t necessary

Just a guitar

You don’t need to sing along

There doesn’t have to be a special song

You can just play

And I’ll close my eyes and listen

Those few notes strung together say so much

And though I don’t always understand

I get enough to get by

If you want me to know more

You’ll tell me

But for right now

I’ll be content just listening

Gleaning a few precious secrets

That sneak out from the notes

That’s enough

As long as you keep plucking

February Fail

My friend Abby hates February. She says everything bad happens in February. I'm beginning to believe her.

Probably because I'm sitting in the ER with her after a nasty bonk on the head during the show tonight.

Like a true theatre artist and masochistic, she kept going for the final three minutes of the show. I didn't realized it happened. It's the final scene of the show, and so much is happening, it's hard to know where to look. She got hit by a flying elbow. The elbow belonged to a 6'7" actor, who isn't always the most observant with where his limbs are going. I didn't know until 15 minutes after the show was over. As stage manager and friend, I went into panic mode.

So, we are in the hospital. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight, but that's okay. I have a science test to study for. Right now, we're "hangin' in her hood," as she just put it. Surprisingly, that's a fairly normal thing for her to say.

I don't want to hate February, but right now, it seems like a valid option.

Until next time, hurry up, March!

Rehearsal vs. Homework

Do you know that feeling of accomplishment that comes after three really smooth tech days for a show? Some of you know. For those that don't, apply that feeling of accomplishment to your life.

That's how I feel right now.

What a refreshing feeling. It doesn't stick around long when homework is waiting to be done though. Sad.

---

Six hours later. Some much science has been done, but I don't have that same feeling of accomplishment. Probably because I had to force myself to do it, struggle though it the whole time.

That's the extreme I've faced lately. I have to make myself do my homework, there is no desire to read assignments or do online questions or fill out study guides or spend hours studying for tests. Then I feel awful when I don't do well on quizzes or tests. It's a vicious cycle. I'd much rather spend two hours in the theatre after rehearsal and make protest signs for pre-show rather than spend two hours reading homework.

Problematic. I'm trying to be better about it.

I don't know what else to say. I'm quitting for the night, more homework tomorrow. Oh yay.

Until next time.

Time? Nope.

My run down for today:

7:00 - wake up
7:30 - do homework
8:50 - science class
10:05 - chapel
10:40 - theology class
11:50 - lunch
12:30 - work
2:10 - history class
3:30 - dme rehearsal
5:00 - supper
6:00 - prep for musical rehersal
7:00 - Q2Q musical rehersal
12:00 - sleep (hopefully)

I have been running at full speed for the last few weeks, this week has been no exception. The upcoming week will be no different.

It's crazy, the things I spend my time on. I'd rather sit in the theatre for two hours after rehearsal and make protest signs for the pre-show than come home and do homework. Hence why I did my homework already this morning. College is stressful, and though I know that after college won't be a walk in the park, I'm ready for a walk with a different view. I suppose that's a good thing. Maybe graduating will be a bit easier that way.

Lots and lots to do, better get at it.

Until next time.

Whistling

I can’t whistle.

Hasn’t ever stopped me from trying.

I don’t think it’s something I can do.

I feel that way about a lot of things.

I can’t tight rope.

I can’t sing on key.

I can’t tap dance.

I can’t make shoes.

I can’t carve wood.

I can’t play the bassoon.

And though I haven’t tried to do some of those things,

I sure have tried to whistle.

And yet you don’t seem to mind.

You whistle for me.

I appreciate that.

There are lots of things you can’t do.

You can’t sit in silence.

You can’t make cookies.

You can’t jump rope.

You can’t spin a basketball on your finger.

You can’t write letters.

Or you won’t.

But that’s a different argument.

You can’t beat box.

You can’t color inside the lines.

But that’s okay.

I like that about you.

No one should stay inside the lines.

No one should stop trying to do new things.

And even though I can’t sing on key,

You can.

And even though you can’t make cookies,

I can.

I will never whistle while making cookies, jumping rope, and writing letters,

But I know you’ll be whistling for me.

And when you’re tap dancing in the kitchen

Or carving wood and singing off key,

I will sit in silence and smile,

Just grin as big as I can,

Thankful that even though the list of things we can’t do is long,

The list of things we can do together is growing.

Soon it will be longer than the other list.

And maybe someday I’ll be able to whistle.

Victorious Defeat

There is nothing worse than feeling constantly defeated.

There is nothing better than friends who remind you that the battle has already been won.

It has been a very rough week. Lots of new, lots of hard old, lots of readjustment, lots of running. And unfortunately, lots of complaining. I'm tired of complaining. So I'm not going to use this post as another way to complain about my sucky couple of weeks.

Instead, I'm going to recap magic:

1. The beauty of dance. I can't dance. I can't even pretend to dance well. But I love watching dance. Beautiful. Our student dance concert was this weekend. Stories through motion.

2. Surprises. I was so blessed by all the surprise visits I had from friends this weekend. It was just what I needed.

3. Seeing progress. There is so much magic to theatre that sometimes it's easy to gloss over it. But watching something fall together, that's magical.

4. Hugs. Enough said.

5. Finding support in unexpected places. This week has been full of freak outs. But more people have stepped up and supported me than I realized were there. It has been such a blessing.

6. Good talks. Not just surface level, "How is your day" questions (because all my answers were depressing...), but real talks about things that matter. Not all topics were cheerful or fun, but necessary and helpful.

7. Rekindled friendships. I love getting a friend back after a time of distance.

8. Goofy cartoons. They just make things better.

9. Reminders. Reminders that God can handle my fears. Reminders that there are lots of options for my future, I just need to go one step at a time. Reminders that my heart is with people who love me and support me. Reminders that I need to love and support them just as much. Reminders of God's faithfulness.

There has been a lot on my mind lately, hopefully I can sort it out, hopefully I can tell you all about it sometime.

Tech week for the musical is coming up. Busy, busy, stressful, stressful. But I'm excited.

Until next time.