Lie # 1

I'm the hero of this story. Don't need to be saved.

**********************************************************************************

I'm on a roll here. Two entries in one month. Boom bam, baby.

I'll explain the first line with these two: Last night I needed writing therapy . Today I had an epiphany.

(That is for the teachers and others who have commented on my inability to summarize. There, you go, I did it. Go along now and jump to your own conclusions. Happy? Did you learn anything useful? No. Of course not. Because summaries are useless. Why? Because people make the wrong conclusions even when the have all the facts. However, the percentage of wrong conclusions is increased when there is a decrease of facts. Summaries are mostly factless. Facts are useless without context. Context is impossible without details. I would cite examples of this , but that might just overwhelm you. Conclusion: summaries are good if you want to taunt the reader or listener with promises (sometimes vain) of properly directed conclusions on the condition that you manage you untangle yourself from own misguided and misinformed ones. And really, teasing, that's just plain rudeness.)
*This has been a shameless attempt at justification and a good example of overcompensation. And of exaggeration; I only pretend to hate convention.

You see, last night's piece of work was a chef-d'oeuvre. That's "masterpiece". In case you are wondering if I know what it is, l'humilité is humility. But a fait is a fact and chef-d'oeuvre is what it was.

And it was such because it did what I intended it to do: I was therapized. Honestly, I felt so much better afterward. The only thing that made me feel better after the fact was the fact that I wrote it while playing "New Slang" and when I was done I played it again. And the betterness was cemented.

Just as most of my best work comes as the product of moments pregnant with the urgency of necessity, this free-write was no exception. It was ripe with over-dramaticism and words that don't exist (I'm up to my third in this post). It's no mean feat, you know, to turn off the auto-editor in my brain long enough for the words to come out as the raw sentiments they are somewhere deep inside. Not to mention that those depths are usually closed to me.

Incidentally, when I undertook last night's therapy session, I initially thought I needed blogging therapy. So I started a post. Now I honestly have no idea who reads this thing. Often when I sit down to blog I imagine that no one does, and that I can just send it out to the universe and it comes back to me, pure and untouched: a well-kept secret. Of course, other times, I write with people in mind. Not specific people, but an audience of blurred faces. The problem is, one of those faces may be yours, dear reader, and you might just get your dirty paws on my secret sentiments. So it should be no surprise that the brain-child born in last night's therapy session will never see the light of day. Not in its current form, at least.

So there it sits, a draft in my dashboard; unpublishable because it is too honest to share.

And therein lies the epiphany. One of my past posts dealt with the idea of keeping with a discretion policy and mentions the creation of a blog entitled Monstrous Liar that would be a depository, ironically of course, of honesty; of my anger, fear, and private thoughts (See Nov. 2, a Hendry classic: http://www.angryalien.com/amys_diary.html). In that post I threatened the secret creation of that blog, leaving it as an inheritance for my those lucky individuals who find themselves in my will (which I of course have yet to write).

Well, after much overdone anticipation, I am happy to announce the creation of my blog: Monstrous Liar. Guess what? You are currently visiting it. It is the posts between the posts; the unpublished ramblings that exist behind the scenes. It lives and breathes and hums on my dashboard next to my account settings.

In honor of the comings and goings on this here blog that will remain unaccounted for I have a proposition. Mostly I just want to tease you, I think, with all that I'm not telling. My proposition is this: future unpostings on Monstrous Liar will make a shadow of a cameo on the Bell Tower. They will appear under a subject line of numbered lies. And they will have as their text the title from the original post. The titles likely being lyrics, or quotes, or French: contextless nonsense.

Thus, while last nights posting even included the full text of the song I was playing at the time because it was so integrally connected to the text, it's title was the first line of this post, a lyric I'll leave you to figure out because it's more fun that way.

You've just had your first taste of Monstrous Liar: the unblog. Delicious, n'est-ce pas?

Bienvenue my friends, bienvenue.

Take it slow, take it easy on me. Shed some light, shed some light on me please...

So I've been needing a change on the look of my blog. I may keep playing around but for now I'm out of energy and so I'm going to leave it at this.

I have too many random musings to make them cohesive. And let's be honest, I always muse randomly and I am rarely cohesive.

My plans for this summer are not progressing as I would like them to. I feel so scattered, no direction and fewer and fewer options. I have become obsessive compulsive about checking my inbox, and no, it is not to see who has commented on my facebook. I'm starting to realize how lucky I was last summer in finding options so quickly at the relatively last minute. I think a lot of that has to do with my determination. Last year I was fulfilling the promise I had made to myself to return to France. This year, I merely want out. I'm a big believer in boldness making things happen. I have too many directions this time around for boldness. Hmmm.

In another life, I might have been a maker of maps, methodically plotting and measuring in scales of estimation. Of course, a proper geographer must also be an explorer, a lesson so pointedly learned from Le Petit Prince who meets a geographer who misses the point entirely:

"Exactly," the geographer said. "But I am not an explorer. I haven't a single explorer on my planet. It is not the geographer who goes out to count the towns, the rivers, the mountains, the seas, the oceans, and the deserts. The geographer is much too important to go loafing about. He does not leave his desk. But he receives the explorers in his study. He asks them questions, and he notes down what they recall of their travels. And if the recollections of any one among them seem interesting to him, the geographer orders an inquiry into that explorer's moral character."

So I would undoubtedly have been a captain of a ship and I would have slept with the lull of the sea, the sea, the sea! to ease my restless mind. But in this life I'm here, waiting, and lacking patience. (Not to mention the fact that I have a terrible fear of the sea. But that doesn't mean it doesn't call to me.) I don't do well with a lack of precision, without a destination. All this goalless-ness has gotten me to attempt to figure out what to do with life beyond the summer.

I went skiing the other weekend with mon ami Mr. Smart and we were talking about life and how we would do things differently if the goals and anticipation of future responsibilities were different. I realized I would do whatever it takes to go to school as long as possible, putting aside a nice apartment, home, fancy job, etc. Which, naturally, made me rethink my current position. I kind of concluded that my current life enables me to do more by way of being the "eternal student" since I have summers off to have learning experiences of the traveling variety. It felt good to know that I am where I want to be but I have to admit, I mused over this conversation and my conclusion for days afterward.

I think a lust for learning is a great thing. Not being satisfied with where one is can be both a blessing and a curse as far as progression goes. But I think that the time comes when it is it's time to stop becoming and to start doing. Because the becoming is in the doing. And for me, much as I feel that there is more to be seen, more to learn, that time for me is now, or not far from now. I can't be selfish in the idea of a lifetime indulging myself with knowledge that is rarely applicable and benefits mostly me. I don't feel ready and I'm not sure what it is I need to do but I think it's time I move from the passive learner to the active participant. Self, I've been telling myself, you will never feel prepared enough. Et ce n'est pas la fin du monde ça.

Inclined to place blame or rather trace the root of my mentality I turn to French. Because of French, learning another language, I am at home with the overwhelming lack of knowledge, of preparedness, of completion. But I can't let that stop me. Believing, as I do, that heaven is the opportunity for endless progression, I am somewhat relieved that I do not have to "do it all now", but prioritize. Which, while no mean feat, is far more manageable. At the same time, I am more aware that this life is a gift, that I am eager for it, hungry for it, but that I will only get so much out of it if I don't share it.

President Packer's son quoted in our stake conference the other day a poem quoted by his father in GC 2000. I had never heard the poem, "Man-Making", whose author is Edwin Markham but I think it's all too appropriate with what I've been thinking about so I'm including it:

We are all blind until we see
That in the [universal] plan
Nothing is worth the making if
It does not make the man.
Why build these [buildings] glorious,
If man unbuilded goes?
In vain we build the [world], unless
The builder also grows.¹

This began as a travel blog. Some journeys are more easily documented than others. But really, whatever the kind, the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. And that step is born of mental exertion, of knowledge and decisions and visualizations. I think of all that most go on in the brain for the foot to move, the circuits, the nerves, the synopses, the muscles, all working in harmony toward movement. Right now my brain's just processing. But make no mistake, the first step is on its way.

I feel like this post has been pretty heavy and I don't mean it to be. So I'm going to add some mix things up with excessive randomness.

1) I went barefoot running on Wednesday and got my shoes snatched up by some still unknown hooligans. Who takes an old pair of ugly black flats is beyond me. I mean, every girl out there owns a pair. And now I have to buy new ones. I went back Saturday and ran around the whole track area, including garbage cans in vain hopes of finding them again. But no such luck.

However, since we're talking about luck I should probably mention that after leaving my shoes on the side of the track I had put my car key in them, walked away, had that funny feeling in my gut, turned around and picked up my key and stowed it safely on my person. See, I could have lost my shoes, my key, and potentially my car. Thank you, uneasiness.

2) I could go off on a rant on the uselessness and misguidings of emotions. Easily. I could go as far as to say that they go against the instinct for self preservation. That's counter evolution! I could then juxtapose and say that they are the one thing that sets our species apart and that I wouldn't have been happy as a monkey. Although I probably wouldn't have known the difference anyway. I could make a metaphor out of them, comparing them to a one party agreement. However I could then juxtapose that as well and argue that logic rarely agrees on anything anyway. And I could cite, in outline form if you'd prefer, why (despite my rather convincing counter-arguments) emotions are still totally useless. But then I'd have to find a way to explain away the uselessness of aforementioned "gut-feeling" (feeling being a synonym of emotion). And since I can't tackle that I will let the beast lie.

For now.

3) Last year just before St. Patrick's day one of my preschoolers (Undeniably, one of my favorites; even though I don't have favorites. Of course) came up to us with green magic marker not quite washed out all under his chin. "Miss Hendry," he said, with unusual sobriety and a trace of genuine worry, "I think I'm turning into a leprechaun."

Friday, during lunch, I caught the kids comparing food. One held up a cheese stick, turned to their neighbor and said, "Look! We have the same!" The neighbor held up his or her cheese stick. Both mouths gaped, wide open as if it was the most fantastic thing in the entire world to have the same thing for lunch. Then that neighbor turned to the other and, matching food of some kind held high and mouths gaping, the wave of enthusiasm swept through the entire classroom. Funny how eager kids are to find reasons to find similarities. And to smile, no, gape. I tried remembering the last time I gaped over something because it made me so happy.

All this to say, I love my stinking kids. They make me laugh and keep me young.

4) Saw Vampire Weekend in concert this week and for some reason I can't get enough of Feist. In fact, I haven't listened to much else this week, and, it being a concert week, that is really saying something since usually I listen to nothing but the artist the week before and after.

A lyric I can't seem to shake: "Leave on a high note, there's nowhere to go but on".


And I think that pretty well sums it all up.

A good example of why it is good to have an idea of what you want to write about before you sit down to write.

I have a new goal. I made it today:

write in blog at least once a month.


I try to keep at least some things in life simple. (Proper to contrary belief.) Yes, that was intentional dyslexia. It's a Liz-ism and the full sentence in which it was coined is as follows: "Proper to contrary belief, I am NOT a man". Apparently she thought we were the ones confused.

Anyway, it's the end of the month. As is now habit, I start this post with nothing more than excuses to compel me onward.

First off I have to confess my ambiguous sentiments toward the blogosphere. I feel like I'm echoing my first post here, but when I think of blogs and blogging, several words come to mind:

love. hate. awe (as in wonder). awe (as in awful). envy. denial of said envy. egocentricity. hypocrisy.

and sweet justification.

See, part of me thinks that blogging is kinda evil. In the same way that Facebook is evil. In that it's takes keeping up with the Jones's to a whole new and totally-too-hip-for-anyone's-true- good-ish level. Like I remember being on my mission and having something happen and thinking "perfect status update". Like everyone would be better off for seeing how awesome my life was or how funny I am. And I mean let's face it, blog-stalking blows any other forms of stalking out the window. It's feels so wrong to read the intricacies of another person's life. And yet, so right. Maybe the only ambiguity here is me, but I can't believe that harboring opposing opinions and feelings on a subject is all that healthy so I just have to get this out there. It's such a self-centered mentality that is being nurtured here, this million-and-one-ways to express one's self culture that we live in. And then there's the hours you waste in front of screen, whether reading or writing, and to what real end? Are there not books to be read, places to be visited, and people in our lives who need, US, in all our flesh and blood glory, to do things that cannot be done with mouse and keyboard?

I want to be too big of a person for it. But I'm not. I'm just little sunny. And sometimes, it is like my siren call.

So for this reason I sometimes stay away from posting anything here. Because I don't want to loathe myself afterward for being so self-involved. It occurred to me that maybe I would feel better if I followed other people's blogs. A kind of "I'll feel better about wanting you to read mine if I read yours". But then there's the threat of living vicariously (a dangerous drug) or you end up coveting this or that that someone else has or does or is or, on the other hand, you figuratively walk away a little too self-satisfied.

I'm starting to feel like the evil of blogging all comes from me and that I'm just projecting it here and that maybe I'm being too honest. So I hope I don't offend anyone.

So my goal number two is do the blog thing in moderation. (Which is the obvious answer, but I feel is easier said than done). I can't swear off of it because I think there is something about writing and knowing that someone might read it that compels me to do, live, and become more. If nothing else, it is the thing that gets me writing; gets the rambling, bad writing, out of my system so that I can move on to something more worthwhile. For this reason I have dubbed it a necessary evil, and one that I should do (ever so slightly) more of.


So I am going to try to balance things out. Follow some blogs, set some limits, and above all try to write things that are worth (a relative term, thank my stars) writing and reading, even if only for my sanity. Well I realized, just today, in fact,that I don't even know how to follow another person's blog. So if anyone knows how, please let me know.


Apart from blogging about blogging, I don't have a whole lot to say that fits my new parameters.

But I can say that since January I have come across a few things are worth sharing.

The first is this book:





Yes, it is The Little Prince. And it pops up.

One of my girls from class brought it in while we were doing a little unit on the book. My copy is officially in the mail.

I have such a thing for children's books. I can't usually get through this book without crying. It's pretty sad. (My crying, not the book).

For those of you who have never read it, it will change your lives. Here's a copy of the book's dedication, and it gives you a fair idea of what to expect from the book itself.

TO LEON WERTH

I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating it to a grown-up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in the world. I have another reason: this grown-up understands everything, even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up. If all these reasons are not enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew. All grown-ups were once children-- although few of them remember it. And so I correct my dedication:

TO LEON WERTH

WHEN HE WAS A LITTLE BOY

My second point of interest is the 500 days of Summer soundtrack. I know I'm a little slow on the uptake but this is too amazing to go without saying. I don't know why I don't listen to more of Regina Spektor's stuff. "I'm the hero of this story, don't need to be saved". What a phenomenal line. Problem is, I can't figure out if it would still be as phenomenal without me having seen that movie. The scene does everything for that song. I love it when a movie can change a song, improve upon it. Makes me want to make a movie. Or write a song.

Thirdly, my voyage into the realm of barefoot running has been an adventure so far. I was trying to train for a half marathon in April. I haven't run over 4 miles in over 2 months and haven't run over 5 miles ever. But I'm not going to stress it because right now I'm working of perfecting my form by going barefoot. The mileage will come, I tell myself. But I have to say that barefoot running has been the best thing ever to happen to my calves. Sure, they hurt like nothing else afterward, but man are they starting to look good. This might sound like vanity to some, but if you saw me during my awkward years (8-18) you would understand that I have a right to rejoice over not having chicken legs. I earned it by the sweat of my brow. Quite literally.
Now I'm not trying to sway anyone here or anything, since my Barefoot sejour has been a short, and I consider, incomplete, but I do have to tout the awesomeness which is sprinting at the end of a run. I couldn't believe my legs the first time I tried it. It's like they weren't even there and I was just flying. I can't wait for spring to come so I can get out and really get my feet dirty.


So two months of the year are pretty much gone and I only have two books read to show for it. If you were to tell me that 2010 would be the year in which I only read a book a month I would be really depressed but that's what it's shaping up to be unless I learn stop wasting my time googleing why this or that is hurting me, the tastiest chocolate granola recipe, the healthiest chocolate granola, how to substitute tasty ingredients for healthy ones, and what the best rice cooker is and is a rice cooker even worth having in the first place if you are just one person and don't eat rice every day. Honestly, these are things I have wasted hours on the past couple of weeks.

But I finally did manage to finish Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" even our book club still hasn't met and may never again. I'll join a book club and spare you all my musings on that subject.

For Valentines day weekend I was under the weather and decided to pamper myself. I picked up an old childhood favorite, one that ingrained in me the belief that I had writing in my blood and that that blood was Scottish. I can't be objective where this book is concerned as it is probably the book I have read the most throughout my life and encompasses a lot of memories. How good it really is I cannot fairly say but it was definitely a guilty pleasure reading this again:



My major accomplishment for the month of February was finishing the introduction of Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, a book I've been dying to read for years. The intro was way tedious but now that I'm reading it, I'm glad I went to the effort of plodding through the intro even if it did scare me away quite a bit from the actual text itself.

Well, I think I probably got all my venting about blogging out of the way and, sufficiently excused, I hope to write next time without reservation.

In case you were wondering, on my list of purchases for next month is my own pair of little pink shorts. Ned's getting pretty sick of me always taking hers. I can't wait to see what scandalous little number I will end up with.

Frolicking

I'm not gonna lie, one of my major motivating factors to work out is the chance to slip into some short pajama shorts. My legs miss the freedom of pre-mission days like you would even believe. Frolic is the most cupcake word possible but you know what, that is what them shorts inspire: frolicking. Teaspoon, my youngest sister, has the cutest American Eagle shorts. They are pink and short and plaid and incredibly girly. I don't own shorts anymore, much less pajama shorts. She lets me borrow them and it is like slipping on a token of my summer-time youth. Now, I'm not scandalous or anything, but honestly, every girl should be allowed to run around her own basement in a pair of pink skimpies.

Thanks to running, a treadmill, bare feet and the bitter cold, I get to do that a few times a week.

Life is good. Good enough for me to begin, and end, in under 150 words; a rarity.

Almost a delicacy, but not quite.

A Year of Plenty, A Decade of Sound

I have officially been inspired. Being the list-lover that I am, I started to make a list of the books I'd read this year and the concerts I'd gone to. That in turn made me want to make a playlist for 2009. Then I was checking out my cher ami Winston's blog and he highlighted the past decade of his life. So I attacked that project too and failed miserably. Summarize? Yeah, way beyond my remote concern of being condescending. Oh, oops, that would be the Shins slipping into my subconscious and finishing my sentences. Beyond my capacity is what I meant to say. The past 10 years have been full of awesomeness, but because I can't summarize to save my life you don't get to hear about it, it's far too personal what I've come to write about. I've gone as far as summarizing 2009, complete with my aforementioned lists (in no particular order):

Bands seen in concert:

Joshua James
Imagine Dragons
The Devil Whale
Horse Feathers
The Sounds
Ting Tings
The Killers
1964-Beatles Tribute
Sea Wolf
Band of Annuals
Andrew Bird


Books Read:

The Hero and The Crown
Goose Girl, Enna Burning, River Secrets, Forest Girl
Marie Antoinette-The Journey
Persuasion
1984
Tale of Two Cities
The Book Thief
Milkweed
The Wanderer
Howl's Moving Castle
The Last Unicorn
Twilight Series
The Kite Runner

In French:
Eragon
Le journals d'Aurore: Jamais contente
Le journal d'Aurore: Toujours fachée
Demain la lune


And a summary of 2009:

The first full year back from my mission. Milestones: First full year as a teacher and never happier with my job and the people I work with. First trip to Hawaii. First time skinny dipping (yep, Hawaii). First time watching fireworks from the beach (Marseille). First visit to Prague. First time I have ever run over 2 miles.

High(and low)lights:

I went back to France after swearing to myself in 2004 that one day I would. That it turn, inspired this blog.

Our kitchen is finished, our basement as well, and Cat now comes when I call him.

I decided not to even attempt to pursue getting an MFA in Creative Writing and started writing again.

I got in my first wreck in my car: cement parking pillar meets front driver's end while backing out in a moment of complete-if not nauseated induced-idiocy.

St. Valentine pays my throat and nice visit and leaves me with a present in the form of Strep.

All my former companions return from their missions and daughter #3-Monterrosa-and I, with my sister Amy in tow, embark for Cali to live up spring break 09.

I live 2 months in Marseille and learn that I would rather live where it is too cold than too hot.

Grandpa Brady passes away.

I start reading my scriptures in Spanish again, so I'm slowly getting up to speed with my Spanish again.

I learn that I am sensitive to Gluten. And soy. And milk. And that everyday life without those things is not as impossible as I would have thought.

Still haven't been camping since 2006, and that is my biggest regret of 2009. Not bad, my friends, not bad at all.


I thought this was all I had to say. Ha.


But THEN, in an unbidden stroke of genius, I realized that all those unsummarizable moments of the past decade could be instantaneously summoned, summarized, and made personal and yet accessible if I put them in list by way of the songs that I associate with each year. So yes, there is some chronology that comes into play, especially during my younger years when I, like everyone else, just listened to the radio and ate what was fed to me. But a lot of these songs remind me, not only of an era, but of places I went, people I met, those I hung out with. Each song beckons a memory and that memory is more or less nestled in the year listed more than any other time. Some songs are generic, juvenile even. They are not necessarily my favorite songs. Some have a lot of memories and I could have listed them every year. I tried to limit myself. Considering my original goal of 5 songs per year, I theoretically failed miserably; I gave up limiting myself to numbers and tried to stick to limiting myself to excessive overlapping of artists and songs. Some are reflective of my dancing habits more. Some people evoke a lot of songs. Some songs evoke a lot of people. Some evoke one place so particular that the song evokes a physical memory, so precise that the only way I can get back to that place is by listening to that song. That, is why music is the lifeline of my decade past and many decades to come. But the best part is, that while this is my list, it might be yours as well at some intersection of time and sound in that strange realm where memories are kept alive by the beat of a kickdrum.

So here you are, 2009 in all its glory followed by the songs of my past 10 years (again, the songs listed are in no particular order):

Songs for 2009: The Year of Plenty
1. Heartbeats-Jose Gonzalez
2. Bunny Ain’t No Rider-Of Montreal
3. Sometime Around Midnight-Airborne Toxic Event
4. If Work Permits-The Format
5. Stay Away From Me-Honorary Title
6. Anonanimal-Andrew Bird
7. Only Four Songs and A Fight-The Sounds
8. Loveshack-B-52’s
9. Slow Pony Home-The Weepies
10. Run-Leona Lewis
11. I Feel it All-Feist
12. Closer-Kings of Leon
13. Your Love=Math The Devil Whale
14. Poker Face-Lady Gaga
15. Tony the Beat-The Sounds (Just do it, do it do it do it !)
16. Comme Des Enfants-Coeur de Pirate
17. Somewhere Over the Rainbow-Israel
18. Flightless Bird-Iron and Wine
19. Portions for Foxes-Rilo Kiley
20. Timelapse Lifeline-Maria Taylor
21. You Belong With Me-Taylor Swift
22. Lisztomania-Phoenix
23. Baby I’m a Fool-Melody Gardot
24. Falling Through the Roof-Horse Feathers
25. Dangerous-Joshua James

2008-The Comeback
1. Masterfade-Andrew Bird
2. Be the One-Ting Tings
3. Start a War-The National
4. How it Ends-Devotchka
5. Australia-The Shins
6. Paper Planes-MIA
7. Wilco-True Love Will Find You in the End
8. Live Your Life-TI
9. Viva La Vida-Coldplay
10. Disturbia (Scurvy Love)-Rihanna
11. 15 Steps-Radiohead
12. Origin of Love-Rufus Wainright
13. Shut Up I’m Dreaming of A Place Where Lovers Have Wings-Sunset Rubdown
14. Down Boy-Yeah Yeah Yeah’s
15. Kids-MGMT
16. See You Again-Miley Cyrus


2007-The Mission (Besides EFY and Enya, I had songs that were constantly and recurring in my head. I didn’t choose them, they chose me. There are a few others I heard in stores or while waiting for car repairs. And a few others that we listened to to keep us sane-ie, Amelie)
1. A Decade Under the Influence-Taking Back Sunday
2. Hey Jude-The Beatles
3. Hallelujah-Jeff Buckley
4. Bringing Sexy Back-Justin Timberlake
5. If You Were A Sailboat-Katie Melua
6. Hey There Delilah-Plain White T’s
7. How To Save A Life-The Fray
8. You Are A Runner and I Am My Father’s Son-Wolf Parade
9. If You Could Hie To Kolob
10. Amelie Soundtrack


2006-The Summer of my Life
1. Under Pressure-David Bowie
2. Know Your Onion-The Shins
3. Evil-Interpol
4. Walking With A Ghost-Tegan and Sara
5. Boat to Row-Band of Horses
6. Open Invitation-B.R.M.C.
7. Land Locked Blues-Bright Eyes
8. The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack-The Liars
9. Leif Erikson-Interpol
10. How to Disappear Completely-Radiohead
11. Anything You Want-Spoon
12. Over My Head-The Fray
13. Dinner Bells-Wolf Parade

2005-Lenderlab & The Bronco II
1. Don’t Speak-No Doubt
2. Slow Night, So Long-Kings of Leon
3. The End Has No End-The Strokes
4. I Summon You-Spoon
5. Like Eating Glass-Bloc Party
6. Exit Music (For A Film)-Radiohead
7. Let Go-Frou Frou
8. Hide and Seek-Imogen Heap
9. The Rat-The Walkmen
10. The Promise-When In Rome
11. Only Difference Between Martydom and Suicide-Panic at the Disco
12. Bandages-Hot Hot Heat
13. Boys Don’t Cry-The Cure
14. Harder to Breathe-Maroon 5
15. We Used to Be Friends-Dandy Warhols
16. Monkey Gone to Heaven-The Pixies

2004-Study Abroad in France & Misc European Travels
1. A Different City-Modest Mouse
2. Somewhere Out There-Our Lady Peace
3. Midtown-No Place Feels Like Home
4. New Slang-The Shins
5. Maps-Yeah Yeah Yeahs
6. Somebody Told Me-The Killers
7. Time is Running Out-Muse
8. I Believe in a Thing Called Love-The Darkness
9. Quelqu’un M’a Dit-Carla Bruni
10. Such Great Heights-The Postal Service
11. Everlong-Foo Fighters
12. When You Come Back Down-Nickel Creek
13. Chemicals Between Us-Bush
14. Smells Like Teen Spirit-Nirvana
15. Chocolate-Snow Patrol
16. The Luckiest-Ben Folds
17. In the Shadows-The Rasmus

2003-Freshman year
1. Always – Saliva
2. No One Knows-Queen of the Stone Age
3. Seein’ Red-Unwritten Law
4. Down-311
5. Hands Down-Dashboard Confessional
6. Hurricane-Something Corporate
7. Not A Pretty Girl-Ani Difranco
8. Freshmen-The Verve Pipe
9. Hey Ya-Outkast
10. Seven Nation Army-The White Stripes
11. The Warmth-Incubus
12. Lightning Crashes-Live
13. Young and Hopeless-Good Charlotte
14. Girls not Grey-AFI


2002-18
1. One More Time-Daft Punk
2. Warning-Incubus
3. Taste of Ink-The Used
4. I’m Like A Bird-Nelly Furtado
5. Complicated-Avril Lavigne
6. Pretty Girl – Sugarcult
7. Not A Pretty Girl-Ani Difranco
8. Running Away-Hoobastank
9. A Thousand Miles-Vanessa Carlton
10. Can’t Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue

2001-The Year the Towers Fell
1. Amber-311
2. Days of the Phoenix-AFI
3. Say it Ain’t So-Weezer
4. Best I Ever Had-Vertical Horizon
5. Hanging By A Moment-Lifehouse
6. Cowboy Take Me Away-Dixie Chicks
7. Authority Song-Jimmy Eat World
8. Chop Suey! System of a Down
9. Everywhere-Michelle Branch
10. Independent Women-Destiny’s Child
11. Drops of Jupiter-Train
12. Blurry-Puddle of Mudd
13. Wherever You Will Go-The Calling

2000-Sweet Sixteen
1. Yellow-Coldplay
2. Wonderwall-Oasis
3. Californication-Red Hot Chili Peppers
4. Superman’s Dead-Our Lady Peace
5. Anna’s Song-Silverchair
6. Here With Me-Dido
7. 3 Libras-A Perfect Circle
8. All the Small Things-Blink 182
9. Bye Bye Bye-Nsync
10. I Hope You Dance-Lee Ann Womack

The Stethoscope: a not-so-Christmas poem

I have been in a poetic mood lately. Sometimes I try to resist this fact because everything I come up with seems to originate from the same vein. It's getting a little old. Real old, in fact. This is precisely why I need to travel more, read more, and forget less. Now, I'm not sure about the whole blogging my poetry thing. This blog's namesake still hasn't been posted and I feel like that should come first. But what the heck, I'll get crazy and mix things up a bit.

I wrote this this morning.

(As a side note, you know, I think we need to reinvent certain aspects of the English language. Like the usage of demonstrative pronouns.Proposal: if you are using a demonstrative pronouns that is also a complematizer or if you are using two demonstrative pronouns, there should be a dash between the second demonstrative pronoun and its noun. So that this sentence would read "I wrote this this-morning". And the sentence,'Don't forget that that cat has really sharp claws' would read 'Don't forget that that-cat has really sharp claws'. Because really the nouns in their abstract senses are "this morning" and "that cat". I recognize that I am a huge nerd and that no one cares, but we should think about it anyway.)

And so here's the disclaimer: I know that this has nothing to do with Christmas. Not even winter. But actually it's kind of the versified brain child of my last post, which is why I'm posting it here.

All the same, Christmas was wonderful. I hope yours was as well. Joyeux Noel.
(Yeah, I just stuck that there to make a rhyme. What did I tell you: poetic.)


The Stethoscope

Living happens quietly

like the stealth of breath into the lungs

and diffused, unseen, unheard into those small rooms

from whence something else emerges.

Like the roll of the sea, like rock eroding to sand,

or a raindrop that cuts through a summer breeze.

Like the heart and its whispering.

Quietly.


But life happens in the beating of a heart, the pounding

throbbing, music beginning: sound.

And it’s not a pretty sight,

our coming into this world; desperate, wailing.

Loud.

Exert, and the breath gives itself away,

sometimes gets caught in the chest,

sometimes frantic to get out.

And the roll of the sea can become a roar,

a crashing of foam on boulders,

or a torrent that thunders while winds howl.


Measured breath, measured beat;

sometimes living happens suddenly.

For all of our planning, life can abrupt and exert,

immerging us in its sounds;

not always a pretty sight

but a delicious, deep, resounding call.

from whence something else emerges.

Yes, love can happen quietly.


But I,

I am no whisperer.

I'm going to ignore the fact that I haven't written on this thing in months. I skipped an entire season, that's how long it's been. And it was wonderful, this fall. We actually had an autumn, despite what everyone else says. I say we had a nice, decently long autumn. When it comes to writing here, I'm just going to completely ignore what everyone else says.

So yes. Fall was wonderful but I'm not going to attempt to paraphrase the last 4 months more than that.

And now, onto why my life currently rocks.

My little sister, Lisa, comes home in 3 days. And she has been through a semester of French and needs to get ready for another one. Will I be forcing French films and expressions on her? You bet I will. My poor puppies need a break. Cat will always be spoken to in French though. He is weird, obsessed with food, and temperamental. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be French. So yes, I am excited to have non-cat entity in my home with whom I can pester with my endearing French accent. Also, I'm in a mean crunch for a dancing buddy. I have a lot of energy lately and therefore need more dancing. And since I'm too old for those old habits I will borrow from Lisa's youth.

I am about to embark-2 hours and counting-on a mission of festive cheer for my fourth graders. I'm in charge of the unit for Christmas around the World for my 4 year olds. Nestled in the back of one of my books I got for them was a recipe for Speculoos. Apparently these things are huge in Dutch countries but also in Belgium and especially around Christmas. Like I've ever heard of them. I'm honestly the least cultured cultured person I know. And sometimes, I'm not gonna lie, I get really bored with France. I mean, I'm a French teacher. I love the language and I love teaching the language. But you know, sometimes I feel the need to embrace the often passed over French speaking countries of the world. So this year, or at least this Christmas, I'm focusing on Belgium. I have to sample the recipe tonight as well as a Swedish recipe for my preschoolers and see how they turn out. If all goes well, we'll be making delicious gluten free Swedish chocolate and coconut balls on Wednesday and the Belgian equivalent to gingersnaps on Thursday. I should probably note that I don't even like gingersnaps. Or gingerbread. I hardly like snickerdoodles. The reason is obvious: where's the chocolate? That's a rhetorical question, in case you were wondering. My biased taste obviously goes for Wednesday's Christmas treat but really, I just feel warm and fuzzy thinking how much fun my kids are going have. Especially my fourth graders. Poor things. They've spent the last month having to listen to me telling them how awesome, fun and magical verb conjugations are. I told you, didn't I? Monstrous liar.

On another note, our house is almost done. Only those who have had to live through 13 years of renovation can truthfully appreciate this. Not that I'm complaining. Okay, so maybe I am. These past three weeks without a kitchen or my big screen tv and cuddly couch have been rough. Not to mention I don't have rockband to healthily work out my aggression. But that excessively warm basement, t.v. room and and its haphazard furnishings have come to represent what I love most about Christmas. And I haven't quite felt like it (Christmas) could be coming knowing that the room is empty and often echoing with the sound of Cat's meowing. He is such a vain whine bucket. And don't even get me started on the kitchen. Two weeks off of school with most everyone working means I will have time to kill, and by jolly I will kill that time and my tidy wasteline in the kitchen in the remainder of this, the winter of 2009.

I was working on my house helping my dad (barely) Thanksgiving day and I got all emotional and started writing about my house. It's a weird thing to get sentimental over, I know, and while I was trying to write about it I realized how pointless it is to really try to explain. The fact of the matter is, I feel like I've grown up with that house. And I have to see it through to the end. When it is done, I will be done growing there. That seems like a cop out for still living at home at the age of 25. Maybe it is. But it feels true. I'm stubborn like that, about seeing thing through to the end. And I'm bad at closing doors. But this one is on it's way shut, which means that this is the last of the kind of Christmases I've always known.

Last but not least, my life rocks because I'm running again. Despite the annoying and mostly gluten free regime which has been my life since September, I have more energy than I've had in a long time. Yes, school is wonderful this year and yes I am working (tutoring in the evenings) a lot less. But there are a lot of days when I am so full of energy that I just start laughing. Like when I get in my car and plug in my ipod. Or when I fall on the ice on my previously bruised tailbone. I never know what's going to set me off. I know that part of this energy comes from running and that being able to run again is in part due to me being more healthy. If all goes according to schedule, I should hit the 5 mile mark during Christmas break. If you had told me that 6 months ago I would have told you to shut up. I really do need to work on that whole polite business. It manifests a complete lack of elegance. And I am nothing, if not elegant.
.
.
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Wow. Shut up.

I should note since I probably won't actually get around to it even though I have the best intentions to, that apart from the particulars, life rocks because I have no idea where my life is going and I am okay with that. That doesn't mean I don't obsess over it occasionally once a week. But there are a lot of unknown variables and a lot of knowns that are thorns in my side. And yet (this is my third syntactically incorrect sentence in a ROW and that makes me even more happy) I feel like I'm okay with those knowns and unknowns because somewhere along the way I ceded control to a degree. This means that I've become horrifically inefficient in a lot of ways; there's always a give, right. In the larger sense, it means I'm ready for whatever comes at me.

Last night someone asked me if I would consider myself an indecisive person. I don't think I even responded verbally. I just laughed. And laughed. And then laughed. Yeah. Awkward. Then I said that I'm the kind of person that things have to just happen to. I didn't really think about it, I just kinda said it. And then when I went to explain it I realized how true that was. I love those ah-ha moments when you understand in a half of a second something that takes paragraphs, pages, hours sometimes, to explain.

You see, I am the kind of person that good things have to just happen to because I usually try to talk myself out of things. And I'm also the sort of person that, when bad things happen, I am a lot more capable of dealing with than I would have foreseen. My problem is that I'm somewhat of a control freak and I like to plan for the good and plan for the bad. Sometimes being a goal orientated person is less than peachy. For such a logical person, I can be ridiculously illogical at times. Maybe that's what it was, maybe the illogicalness of it all finally clicked. Or maybe I was finally able to let go of the details. Either way, it's about time I stopped fighting myself on that account.

I have a couple of quotes that have been on my bulletin board for years. One by Emily Dickinson, "The soul should always stand ajar ready to welcome the ecstatic experience" and by Cormac McCarthy: "Between the wish and the thing, the world lies waiting". Sure, I have some things, some wishes. But I don't want to miss out on what's going on around me because my I'm only focused on them.

In a nutshell, what I mean to say is this:

2009 is almost over. And it rocked my socks off; totally exceeded my expectations. I'll be sad to see it go, to tell you the truth.

2010: I'm ready and waiting.