The Side of the Cereal Box

This week is just oozing culture.    Saturday is the “American Voices” concert (which I’m performing in) at the IMA; tonight, I’m going to see an old friend perform in an IU production of Shakespeare’s “Measure for Measure”, and last night, I went to see the Pike High School production of “Aida” (the Tim Rice & Elton John version - not the opera ).

It was good.  There were many powerfully moving moments (the closer of Act I was astonishing), and the female lead was exceptional.  Her voice is still young, but there is great potential.  Give her a couple of years and the proper training, and I could totally see her on Broadway.  She’s really that good.  (And for a hard-nosed critic like me, that’s saying something!)  Another stand-out performer was a freshman in the role of Mereb.  His comedic timing was just perfect, and he used his speaking voice very well on stage.  Because of his youth, his singing needed a volume boost, but he clearly gave it all he had, singing with his whole body, and it was wonderful to watch.

Now, I went because a young man I’ve known since he was 1 year old (J) was in the chorus.  One woman, I’m told, remarked that he was the most Aryan-looking Egyptian she’d ever seen - milky-skinned white boy with a head of thick, curly blonde hair. lol   Another apparently remarked that he looked like a Greek god in his officer uniform, which was a good description.  The boy’s a runner, so he’s got nicely-toned muscles, and their “uniforms” were Roman-esque (in my opinion).  He did a good job in his role.   I was standing talking with him afterwards when a couple came by and said, “You’re the mean one, right?” lol  (He was the soldier guarding the captain who threw him into his prison cell near the end.  It was quite a believable shove to the ground. )

But although that’s why I went, I ended up having running into several other people quite unexpectedly.  Two girls I’ve also known since they were quite young (saw the younger one take her first steps - she’s in high school now) were both there, sitting only a couple seats away from me.  Back one row from them and little further over was the accompanist from my old high school.  (I’d forgotten that her husband works at Pike.)  But the biggest shock of all came as I was reading the performer bios.

I’d already scanned the names to see if I might (on some off chance) recognize someone, but nobody stood out at the time.  As I read the bio for the lead male, I recognized his parents’ names… then his name.  It was a boy I used to babysit, but I hadn’t seen him since he was probably four years old!  He’s a SENIOR now!  Can you believe that?!  I had a chance to talk to his mom and dad, but I chose not to go up and talk to him and creep him out.   My mom used to do that on occasion, “Hey, this is So-and-so, she used to babysit for you!”  I’d just smile and nod politely.  What did I have to say to them?  Sorry if I ever threw a tantrum about going to bed?  It’s awkward when you’re older and all of a sudden confronted with someone who still smiles at you fondly as though you hadn’t aged a day.  It’s weird when people give you a four-year-old smile when you’re eighteen.  So I gave the poor kid space.   But it was fun to see how’s he grown and where his interests lie now.  (Like most kids who get sucked into the performing arts program at Pike, he now has dreams of Broadway. *sigh*  Poor thing.)

But it was a most enjoyable evening, and I’m glad that J invited me.  He’s never made it a point to invite anyone to his choir competitions or orchestra concerts or anything before, so I took this opportunity to show him my support.  I’ve been privileged to watch this one grow up (and even have a meager hand in it), and I will continue to enjoy seeing him grow - in strength, in faith, in passion and discipline - for years to come.

What is it about human nature that makes us rise up against “slander” to defend ourselves?  Everybody gets talked badly about at some point; everyone probably talks badly about someone else, too, but we rarely get offended until the target is us.  Then we feel the need to “set people to rights”, explain, or make excuses.  Are we concerned about what the offender thinks or what the people listening now think?

For my part, I’ll admit that I’m more concerned about what other people will think of me.  I don’t want people who don’t know me, or who hardly know me, basing their opinion of me on faulty (or incomplete) information from someone else (carrying a grudge - real or misguided).  I used to cringe when my family would take jabs at me in front of people I went to college with (friends or professors).  The person they heard about was not the person they knew.  (Personally, I think it’s harder for family members to accept/believe that a person has changed than it is for their friends.)  And it’s worse when people have disagreements and speak from the standpoint of a broken relationship.

Today I encountered some such “misinformation”.  And I’ll be honest: I wanted to lash out angrily or at least “cop a ‘tude” and “set the record straight”.  My mind raced with evidence I had to prove my point and justify myself.  …But I let it go, for two reasons.  The first is simple and probably stupid, but the second makes me glad for the first.  The first reason is that this other person has requested no contact from me.  It may be extreme, and I may be unruly stubborn for sticking to it, but… I’m honoring that request.

The second reason is that I was reminded of Mary (the sister of Lazarus, “whom Jesus had raised from the dead” ).  We did a study at church a little while back about Bethany and the stories and characters associated with it in the Bible.  We all know the famous story of Martha’s complaining to Jesus about Mary, but there is another instance of Mary being “attacked” for her actions (that of Judas and the annointing of Jesus by Mary).  In both instances, Mary remained silent and Jesus stood up for her.  He was her defender.  I remember how that stuck me when we read through our study (even though it wasn’t the main focus), and it’s an attitude I think I ought to be striving for: not worrying about what others think of me, so long as God is pleased.

Unfortunately, it’s easier said than done.

Yes, it has been a while.  So long, in fact, that I don’t know who reads this blog anymore… if anyone reads it anymore.  Perhaps that’s just as well.

Today, I have a story to tell.

Once upon a time, I had a friend. 

We were the best of friends.  We did everything that friends do.  We shared our lives, every last bit.

Years passed.  Crap happened.  Lies defended, lies uncovered.  Secret struggles: questioned, accepted.  Submission, rebellion.  Mistakes, forgiveness; mistakes…

…unforgiveness.

Masks, tension, paranoia, ignorance, rise and fall.

End.

Today is the end.  …But it hasn’t really hit me yet.

…is the Beethoven festival with the ISO.   All through January, the ISO will be performing various works of Beethoven including the 5th & 7th Symphonies and one of the violin concertos, plus chamber music concerts, a film, and luncheon/lectures.   I wanna go to all of it!!!

But even the “cheap seats” will bring the total around $150.  (But that’s including 3 major concerts and 4 smaller ones, as well as the incidentals mentioned above.)  Anybody wondering what to get me?  There ya go.  Beethoven.

It’s been 5 years since that dreaded day, and of course, once more (as on every anniversary since then), I’m remembered “where I was” that day. Here’s my story; feel free to share yours:

I had class first thing that morning (music major at ISU). My usual routine was to get up early and get ready quietly (since my roommates, inevitably, did not have class as early as I did). So I hadn’t had the TV or even a radio on all morning.

I was sitting in FA 309 with a few other students, waiting for class to start when the off-campus students started trickling in with news:

“Have you guys heard about the World Trade Center?”

“What?”

“I heard on the radio that a plane hit the World Trade Center.”

“I heard a plane hit the Pentagon.”

Amidst our confusion, our teacher entered, ignored all the import of the news, and conducted class as usual.

My next class was (MIDI basics) was in a computer lab, so I (along with several of my classmates) rushed downstairs to check the internet for news before class started. I hopped onto MSN.com and saw a story that only increased my confusion: the WTC had, indeed, been hit by a plane, and one of the towers had collapsed. What?

As before, our teacher ignored the shocking news break and went on with class as usual. (Can you believe it?!)

After class, with no recital scheduled that day, I began walking back to my dorm room, but saw a crowd of people pushing their way into the campus computer lab, and decided to see what was going on. Their eyes were glued to a TV mounted in the corner of the lounge area. It was showing footage of the tower collapsing. …Make that the second tower collapsing. It had happened just minutes before.

I had never heard the campus so quiet, or felt it so tense. The students were shocked, dazed, afraid, confused. It seemed impossible to be seeing what we were seeing unfold. When I returned to my dorm, I found the floor eerily silent except for the buzz of news coverage - every TV on the floor was on and every door was open. Every room I walked by, the girls were sitting on their beds, hands to their mouths, staring at the TV screen, eyes wide with disbelief. My roommate (who was from Japan) was just gathering up to rush to class; she, too, had been caught up in the horrific story and could manage no more than a “hi” as she handed me the remote, a figurative baton in a gruesome marathon of terror. I sat for a long while watching the coverage, though not much “new” news was being covered (apart from the sickeningly stupid gas price jump - which freaked out all those “away from home” students in the dorms). After a while, I began to hear conversations floating down the halls as girls began calling their families, some just to “check in” (desperate to feel connected during a rather frightening ordeal) and some to honestly see if their loved ones were still alive (some girls had friends or family members going to, coming back from, or in and around New York at the time - especially fathers, away on business). I called my dad to “check in”. It was a quiet conversation with many pauses. Neither of us really had anything to say. It was just that “connection” thing.

No one I know was hurt or had any loved ones hurt or killed in the attacks. But the campus was in a daze for a long while after that. I remember picking up a copy of the Statesman the next day (which I still have); it was chock full of stories and interviews, poetry and artwork, and on the back, an American flag. These flags were displayed in nearly every window of every dorm on campus for the rest of the year. The flag became the new and unofficial symbol of 9/11 - a reminder that “freedom don’t come free”, a symbol of sacrifice, courage, valor, honor, hope and sorrow mingled. The passion and fire of the American spirit came alive again that day, a phoenix rising from the ashes of 220-stories-worth of rubble and countless international lives. (It’s important not to forget that either.) The rage we felt as a nation was fueled into music, art, and action. It was, and still is, an amazing thing to witness.

If I can find it this evening, I’ll post the poem I wrote after 9/11.

Well, I’ve been a homeowner for a month.

…Wild, isn’t it?

Minnie’s adjusted alright. She’s actually quite calm when I’m the only one around. And so far she hasn’t chewd up anything she’s not supposed to while I’ve been at work. (One exception: she got into the trash - prior to when I had a trash can - and licked the chocolate off all the candy wrappers that were in there.) She’s been very good about staying in the yard (so long as we’re out back), but I have to pick her up to get her back in the house (she doesn’t like the stairs).

I’m planning on having a “housewarming party” (of sorts) sometime soon so that I can invite my neighbors over and get to know them better. I’ve talked briefly with a few of them, but it would be nice to be on more than “nod-hello” terms. It also looks like I’ll be having church at my house this Sunday for the first time. (I think they’re mostly coming because Yats is nearby!) I think I’ve got enough chairs, but I don’t really have any toys for the kids (who will probably be constrained to my bedroom as a playroom). What I really wish is that I could get lights and wall art hung before Sunday. That way there wouldn’t be wires dangling from the ceiling, boxed lamps on the floor, and Target bags leaned up against the wall. It’d be nice to have end tables, too… Hm.

I get the distinct impression that I’m never going to be “done” with my house…

But I want to thank the other bloggers around me out there: Jeff, Mateo, Cris, etc. You make me smile.

I want ice cream for lunch - or nothing at all.

Well, okay, maybe I’m not officially a homeowner yet. But closing is set for August 1st.

Altogether now: YIKES!

It’s a little scary, but a lot exciting, and not everything has gone as smoothly as planned or the way I’d hoped, necessarily, and the circumstances could always be better (like extra $$ for little repairs/improvements), but… it was good timing, I think.

It’s still sinking in, too. I called to order inspections on the house yesterday. My mom and sister and I went out last Saturday to look at paint chips and price out storm doors, door knobs, light fixtures, etc. (This house does need a little bit of work, but some stuff is just for the sake of my style and the look I want.) Fortunately, my eBay experience is now picking me up some extra fundage (so that maybe I can get that NICE doorknob that I want!).

I wonder how Minnie will react. I’m a little worried that the new environment will take some getting used to - meaning I’ll have to walk her around on a leash for a long time until she stops running out into the street/jumping the fence/you-name-it. I’m also worried that she might be lonely (and that that might cause more problems). She’s been able to be out free (for the most part) almost every day while we’ve been at my parents’ house, but now she’s going to end up being in her cage most of the day (so she doesn’t eat stuff). Also, she’s had Sophie and Patches to “play with” (if you can call stalking the cat and goading Sophie into barking “playing”), but now she’ll be all by herself (which could mean mischief aplenty). She’s a good dog, mostly, but she loves to play and CHEW, and I don’t know how she will find an outlet for that (that is appropriate). Oh well, here’s hoping for the best.

In the meantime, the family is headed out today to pick up furniture items I am getting from my grandparents’ houses. They’ll have to sit in our garage (which is a 2-car storage shed, at the moment) until the house is ready for me to move into (which shouldn’t be too long after closing, couple weeks maybe - depending on the work that needs done, who’s doing it, and when anyone can get the time to do it all).

But, WOOHOO! I’M BUYING A HOUSE! Go me.

I’ve been attempting to clear out some of my old stuff now that I’m in the process of trying to move out of my parents’ house. I am a born packrat, just like my dad, and I used to find it nigh on impossible to throw/give anything away (or even sell it - though that was far more appealing than the alternatives). So I’ve kept A LOT of junk. I’m afraid even to go through my “Memory Box” (which is the size of a 40 gal. or so Rubbermaid container - FULL). Most of that stuff is old poems (from random sources, not me), “love” letters from elementary school “boyfriends” (lots of those), and other toys and trinkets I can’t seem to get rid of. For Pete’s sake, I have a plastic, gummy bear-shaped charm off of a necklace that broke probably 20 years ago! WHY?!

The simple answer is: I don’t know. I think it’s partly memory, but also some bizarre sense of asthetics as well. I think maybe I oughta string a bunch of my trinkets together and make some funky “Memory Necklace”; I like making jewelry, afterall, and it would certainly take up less space - not that I’d ever wear it though, so I guess that makes it more of an art piece…

Anyway, I’ve also got over a dozen Lego sets (which I love but haven’t played with in years). I’m actually quite proud of myself for having far less Barbie stuff than I originally might have. (Still finding it hard to give up that Soda Shop though - it actually holds and dispenses soda! Into the Barbie stools (when you turn them upside down)!) …Sheesh, see what I mean?! Listen to me! HOW OLD ARE YOU?? *sigh* But I digress…

This weekend, I made an effort to rid myself of a good batch of stuffed animals (that haven’t seen the light of day in years). Many of these are from the 80’s and are now regaining popularity, so I turned to that “worldwide garage sale” known as Ebay to try and pick up some cash for them as well as please some collector or nostaligic young adult (with a bizarre sense of asthetics) at the same time. So I registered as a seller for the first time, and put up my: Good Luck Care Bear (he’s winking! the new ones aren’t!), Gloworm (’82), Lurkey (from Rainbow Bright ‘83), stuffed Theodore (from Alvin & The Chipmunks), and a Baby Beans doll. I put a few other items up as well, just to see if they’d go anywhere, including a Phantom Regiment bear (with T-shirts from Carnival of the Animals and Phantom Voices ‘91) and three of my handmade anklets.

The Gloworm currently has a single bidder, which is exciting, and there are several people watching the Good Luck Bear. Now, that may not seem like a lot, but they’ll be up through Saturday, so I’ll wait and see how it goes when it gets closer to the end of the auction. But I must say, this is fun, and a little addictive. I hope they sell for something that at least helps me break even (that’s really my only goal).

…And I hope they don’t sell to my dad.