"Hello you long-shots, you dark horse runners, Hair brush singers, dash-board drummers, Hello you wild magnolias, just waiting to bloom. There's a little bit of all that inside of me and you,
Thank God even crazy dreams come true." ~Carrie Underwood, "Crazy Dreams"
Home is crafted out of construction paper and Christmas lights.
Sometimes, it's made out of necessity. Going into this school year, my college roommate and I were determined to make our room "homey." Freshman year, we both missed the comfort of going home to someone we could talk to at the end of the day. We wanted our room this year to be cozy and warm. We've filled our room with crafts and notes and it's a place that we both enjoy hanging out in.
Home is in Starbucks, when I'm sitting next to my best friend.
If I were to go to this same Starbucks without my friend Liv, it wouldn't feel like home to me. But on this day, it did, because we hadn't seen each other in months and she was heading off to Ireland for the spring semester. Home was unpacked and repacked in 45 minutes.
Home is Nauset Beach, with the ocean dissolving the snow like cappuccino foam.
This home was formed over four summers of working, living, and swimming in Cape Cod. I gained my independence here. Its salt water buoyed me through the summer before my freshman year of college. It's the water I bottled up and took with me to my dorm room. It's the home that helped me find new homes.
I think part of growing up is not just about leaving home, but finding new ones. These past few weeks have made me think a lot about the concept of home. I was "home" in the house I grew up in, with my family and childhood friends. I'm home in Cape Cod now, with my co-workers from the summer and the beach. I leave to go back to Denison University later this week. All of these are home for different reasons. My childhood home offers the comfort of high school friends, my cat, and homemade cooking. Cape Cod has salt air, open skies, and fresh mussels. Denison is stimulating with its lectures, theater productions, and class discussions. All of these homes offer a loving and supportive community.
The more I travel between these three homes, the less disruptive it is every time. I can appreciate what each home has to offer. Like I was excited to come home to Massachusetts and rest for the holidays, I'm equally excited to go back to Denison and start my classes and rehearsals for our winter musical, Sweeney Todd. I'm grateful to now have a community at Denison that I miss and look forward to seeing. I'm leaving one home and going to another, and I feel so blessed to be able to say that.
It's been over a week now since my high school's winter musical, "In the Heights," ended, and I'm still listening to the soundtrack, wishing that I could hear the voices of my fellow cast members sing the songs instead. Even after four months of listening to the same music, I'm not sick of it. I'm sick for it. I would give anything to be back in Washington Heights.
"Post-show depression" is not uncommon for myself, or any actor. After spending four months working with a cast, connected with characters, lost in another world, it can be hard to come back to reality. I find love is more natural on the stage. I'm so much more comfortable on the stage. Life is so much easier on the stage.
And then there comes the time to leave it all behind. And suddenly everything I've been working on for four months–the relationships I've worked to developed, the notes I've strived to hit, the accents I've perfected–is gone. As Prospero reflects in Shakespeare's The Tempest, "We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounding with a sleep." Many people link Prospero with Shakespeare himself in The Tempest (Shakespeare's final play), particularly in this monologue. Shakespeare spent his entire life creating illusions that disappear at the end of the final act. The magic of his plays exists not in the text we hold in our hands but in the life the actors bring to them, and that life is not tangible. At the end of the play, we are left with a few good memories that may eventually fade and some props for keepsakes. How can one not come out feeling depressed?
This show in particular is a hard one to let go of. It's a story about community and home, and being able to share this story with a group who I have found a home with was an incredible experience. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story, In the Heights focuses on the Latino community in Washington Heights, New York. The playwright Lin-Manuel Miranda commented that it was one of the first plays where Latinos weren't portrayed as servants or in a gang, but in their relationships with each other. Everyone in the story dreams of getting out of the barrio and making something of themselves. Ultimately, they realize they have been home all along.
Above is my much-loved script, dog-eared and bookmarked and filled with scribbled stage directions and character notes. Even my friend Alex, who never ceases to find amusement in stealing my things, knows that my script is not one to be tampered with by others. I remember sitting at the lunch table the day I got my script, highlighting my lines and music for my dream role: Nina.
Nina Rosario is the one who makes it out of the barrio. At the start of the play, she is returning from her first year at Stanford University with some surprising news: she dropped out. The girl who always seemed to have it together, who "always made the grade," and who spent her whole life trying to go farther, feels like she failed. And she doesn't know how to tell everyone.
Nina is the most close-to-home character I've played so far. My prior leads–Ms. Wiz in The Wiz and Rizzo in Grease–required me to stretch my acting to become someone almost completely opposite of who I am. Nina is more genuine, and I found the line dividing myself from Nina to be very thin. I understand the pressure to succeed, the pressure to make it look like you have it together, the stubbornness to admit you don't know what you're doing. I felt it nearly every moment with this show. Nina's role is more vocally demanding than the roles I have had in the past. Mandy Gonzalez–who originated the role on Broadway–has a killer belt, and every time I listened to her sing, I felt self-conscious that I could never perform Nina as well. Every show, there is some prop or costume piece that helps me connect with my character. For this show, it was a butterfly.
My first exposure to the butterfly was this journal I purchased a few years ago with the proverb, "Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." I didn't think much about the symbolism behind it, though, until my friend Liv gave me the butterfly Alex & Ani bracelet for my birthday in November.
Like every Alex & Ani bracelet, there was a brief description of the symbolism of the charm. The butterfly symbolism read as following: "A regenerative species, butterflies consistently transition from caterpillar to cocoon to butterfly. Giving us faith in change, the butterfly is associated with unwavering grace, soulful insight, and eloquence on our journey. Channel the energy of the butterfly and emerge brilliantly from your own transformation."
When I saw Mandy Gonzalez wearing a butterfly shirt on Broadway, I knew the butterfly was my symbol for Nina. "It all makes sense!" I thought. "Nina is transitioning to find her place in this world. I'm transitioning to find my place. And I must transition to find my voice through Nina." Thus began my butterfly obsession. After browsing through every store in the mall and thirty different internet sites, I finally commissioned my stepdad, who's an artist, to paint one for me.
And for Valentine's Day, my mom bought me two pairs of butterfly underwear. (Considering I had four nights of performances, I did a load of laundry every night to make sure I had clean underwear for every performance.)
I cannot remember loving a character more than I loved Nina. I worked tirelessly on her character, trying to find my voice in her songs. I will always remember that Saturday rehearsal when the music director approached me and said, "Something changed. When's the last time you listened to Mandy Gonzalez?" I told him it had been over a month. "You can tell. That was fucking gorgeous." And then I remember the Monday after that when I went to my voice teacher and she ripped apart the song, which I know ultimately made it better. I will always remember that moment on stage when I started crying during one of my songs because I connected with Nina so much, and I felt her pain.
Every character I have ever played has taught me something new. Ms. Wiz helped me be confident. Rizzo taught me that no matter who I meet, I can always find some way to connect to them. Nina helped me find my voice, and I am so grateful to the casting team for giving me the opportunity to perform this role.
Tomorrow I have auditions for the spring play. It's time for me to take flight from Washington Heights, but I will always wear my butterfly charm as a reminder to let my voice be heard.
Two containers of powdered foundation. One tube of liquid foundation. A can of hairspray. One and a half packages of bobby pins. 20+ hair elastics. Two containers of blush––one neutral, one hot pink. Two packages of makeup remover wipes. And these are only the full tubes/containers/packages I went through...I still have leftover eyeliner, makeup sponges, mascara and eye shadow. The 28 shows really made CVS happy.
Last night was the closing night of "Les Mis" at the Academy Playhouse. Thus, I felt I had finally earned the right to sign my name in the backstage staircase, where decades of performers had signed their names along with, perhaps, some witty line or inside joke from a show they were in.
It took me awhile to find an empty space to write. I didn't want to write over anyone else's signature, and I wanted to sign my name somewhere in the middle of the staircase. After all, that was always where my eyes were drawn to when I ascended the stairs every night for "At the End of the Day" and later on for the "Epilogue."
Along with my name, I felt inclined to write a quote from the show. (With a show as long as "Les Mis," there is an overwhelming number of options.) I thought about what I wanted to leave behind. I was reminded of the messages I always see written in the sand, of how what people choose to write reflects something about them.
I finally decided on this:
"There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes." It seemed apropos for a time when we cast and crew members were all melancholy about the end of the show. "It isn't really goodbye," I thought, as we all sang the last notes of the "Epilogue." "We will go on to other performances and hopefully be able to watch each other or even work with each other again."
So as tempting as it was last night to look back as the lyrics and choreography trailed behind me, I knew I just had to keep rolling. Before every show, our director talked about the snowball effect of "Les Mis," and how every song, every show just had to keep building upon the last. And how we had to let it. So I rolled with it. Through every song. Through every show. And even after the final curtain call last night, that ball kept rolling–with me following–into tomorrow, tomorrow, and beyond.
I'm terrible at saying goodbye. I'm terrible with change.
Saturday was the last show for the seniors in our drama program. They were all there from the beginning. They've seen it grow...they've grown with it...they've made it what it is today.
Before every show, we have I guess what you could call a "love fest." We all gather in a circle and offer words of encouragement. It starts off with our director telling us we're going to suck, just to make sure we don't get big heads before the performance. But then someone always raises their hand and talks about how much the drama program means to them, and before long everyone's raising their hands and sharing stories–personal stories–about how the drama program has saved their life. We talk about how much we love each other. How much of a family we all are. And pretty soon we're all trying not to cry for fear of ruining our makeup five minutes before the curtain opens...it probably would be better if we did these things after the show.
But then again, these pre-show "love fests" are what propel me through the performance. When I'm on stage, I want to make everyone proud. I don't want to let anyone down with lackluster energy. Saturday, I wanted to make the seniors proud.
In our "love fest" on Saturday, we spent a lot of time talking about the seniors, and how grateful we are to them. They have always done their best to make everyone feel included. They talked with everyone, complimented everyone, and made an effort to get to know all of us. They have been fantastic role models, both as actors and just as people.
As I saw them take their final bows on our school stage, I was at first overwhelmed with sadness that they would never be performing on our stage again. I thought about how different the program was going to be next year. But then my sadness turned to gratitude, as I thought about how grateful I was just to know them. From gratitude, it turned to pride, and I thought about how proud they all make me every time I see them onstage or backstage. And then that pride turned to excitement. They're all going off in their own directions. They're going off into the big world and who knows what is in store for them? I'm not sure what they will end up doing, but I know that no matter what it is, it will be great.
Next year, I will be a junior. A boy in my grade commented Saturday that the seniors this year were juniors themselves when we all met them. I only hope I can make as big an impact on next year's incoming freshmen as this year's seniors did on me.
So as the curtains closed yesterday after the seniors' final bows, I wasn't sad anymore, because I could already see the next ones opening.
Our low-budget, lecture hall auditorium, small charter school did it. Some people may have doubted us, but this weekend, people from miles around heard the people sing...four sold-out shows worth.
The last few weeks I have been completely immersed in what I love most: theatre. With that, I have been with some of my favorite people. It was no exaggeration when people joked that we have seen each other more in the last few weeks than we've seen our family.
Today before the last show, a lot of the cast and crew spoke about what the drama program has meant to them. It was touching to see how much drama has helped so many people. Personally, it has helped me come out of my shell and be more confident. I am truly myself when I am around everyone in the drama program. This cast particularly was the most supportive and loving casts I have ever been in. Everyone threw their heart and soul into the performance. During the "Epilogue" today, I struggled to keep my composure through the last notes, as it finally hit me that it was the last time I would ever sing this song with this same group of people. Then the lights went out as we ran up the aisles for our bows, and I cried. I cried as I watched everyone going up for their moment of glory; all of these goofballs, so mature, so poised, so grown-up. They make me so proud.
This is not to say we didn't have our fair share of drama. But none of it mattered this weekend. We've been through so much together, the good and the bad, and that is what ultimately brings us closer together. Ms. Wiz taught me to be more confident. "Les Mis" taught me to just enjoy the moment. I feel so blessed to have found theatre. I feel so blessed to have been a part of "Les Mis."
Jean Valjean, I am glad you stole that loaf of bread to save your sister's son.
Hello, this is Megan Lovely coming to you LIVE from San Diego! As I sit outside our hotel room typing away, the sun is breaking through the clouds, joggers, runners, and bikers take advantage of the morning air before the humidity kicks in, and a palm tree sways ever so slightly. It seems strange to have nothing to do. Rather, it seems strange to have nothing I need to do. The past few weeks have been filled with "I should do this," and "I should get ahead," but I can do all that at home. Being able to sit and just chat in the car, not trying to scribble out a few math problems or get ahead on my Art honors, has seemed unreal, uncomfortable, even.
This trip has certainly given me lots of writing time. Every day I've been treated to over an hour of writing time, something I may be lucky to get once a week back home. And boy, am I glad, because there's so much to write about! I can hardly finish one entry before something else snags my attention, jumping, begging, pleading to be written about. "Memememe! Write about me!" they all shout. I am like a mother of triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, being pulled in a million and one directions. If only I were an octopus...
I promise I have many journals (and pictures!) to share with you, but I thought this post would be a good little introduction. There's just too many things to notice here to put only on the "Did you notice..." page, so I thought this post would be a preview for all those journals by highlighting just the little moments which the journals sprouted from. Starting from the airport, everything that has caught my eye...
Did you notice on the plane ride...
See: 35,000ft in the air and the mountain ranges look like sand flats, chipmunk cheeks and a bowl haircut, white everywhere (Owen says it looks like heaven up here) Hear: the roar of an airplane on the runway, two chatty blue-eyed blondies in the seat behind me (I've never heard "hi" so many times in my life), "Patrick, you've got round hair," the ding! of the bathroom light Smell: fried food two rows ahead Taste: ginger ale, trail mix, mango-flavored pineapple in the trail mix (why don't they just have dried pineapple?) Feel: the plane take flight
Did you notice in the airport...
See: a college student very concentrated on eating his sandwich, iPhones, iPads, iPods and other Steve Jobs memorials, iced coffee, headphones, cheap souvenirs Hear: suitcases rolling on tile, angry passengers who missed their flight, planes taking off on the runway, planes landing on the runway Smell: pizza, hamburgers, coffee Taste: excitement, anticipation (1 hour 'til takeoff!) Feel: the ground vibrate
Did you notice in San Diego... (what isn't there to notice?)
See: palm tree dancers with pineapple hats, seals inching their way up the beach like big, fat inch worms, lovers initials carved in rock (Mom calls them "hieroglyphics"), Tiki torches, mallard ducks in the hallway, the amusement park upside down, Pop-Art feet (who knew feet could be art?), houses with character, California surfer dudes (long hair, bare feet, no shirt), 40 aspiring triathlon Olympians cross the finish line, 20+ country flags Hear: Cornell the Parrot, the waves crashing, the achy creak of an old roller coaster (1925), the same man playing guitar on the beach at 7:30am, the Great Britain National Anthem Smell: seaweed, saltwater, tacos, burritos, tacos (tacos are like hamburgers here), sunscreen on my skin, Taste: fish tacos from two places (not a fan), an avocado and honey smoothie (interesting), a mission-accomplished chocolate milkshake after an hour walk and an extra two blocks Feel: the Pacific Ocean waves lap at my feet, Pacific Ocean sand between my toes and fingers, California sun warm my shoulders, the surfboard lift with the swell of the wave, my stomach in my throat, a pretty flower in my hair, sunglasses on my head
And we still have two more days here, so this list will certainly get bigger! But I couldn't wait to share :) Sending warm thoughts your way!
Did you notice the sky today? So perfectly blue and not a single cloud in the sky. The Dogwood tree blooms pretty pink in the front yard and the petals open their faces to soak up the sun. The air is cool but refreshing like a dip in the ocean. The oatmeal this morning was especially tasty and particularly pretty with mango and bananas and strawberries. Owen was ever so charming this morning and our cat Maya wasn't so loud and snotty. I smiled at the sun, I smiled at the grass. Said, "How do you do?" to the dandelions and waved to the dog walkers. I ate breakfast with Grandma and took my sweet time. I sang to the dishes and danced in bare feet. 11:11 comes along, and I can't think of a wish. My life is complete.
What do you wish for when you see 11:11 light up on the clock? Or when you blow out your birthday candles? What do you wish for on an eyelash? Or a dandelion puff? Or a shooting star? Don't answer out loud. Do you usually wish for the same thing? Or something different every time? Wishes are the perfect time to ask for guidance with your crazy dreams. It's a wish, after all. Cinderella wanted to go to the ball in a pumpkin carriage. No dream, no wish, is too crazy. All you need is a little bibbity-boppity-boo.
My friend shared this quote with me once and when I typed it into Google to get the exact words, I found it on a magnet. Figures. It's the type of quote that should be on a magnet or a card or a sign in Hallmark. What I love about this quote is that it can apply to so many different people. Whether it be a best friend, a boyfriend or girlfriend, a parent, a sibling, another relative...I hope you all have that one person whom it doesn't matter what you're doing with them. Chores, eating ice cream, watching a movie, going for a walk, just talking, or even just sitting there in silence. After all, "A real friend is someone who you can sit in complete silence with and still walk away feeling like you just had the best conversation in your life." In the silence, you can appreciate the moment you're sharing together. Notice. Sit on a porch swing and hear a dog barking, the birds chirping, the annoying squeak of an achy swing.
Between really good friends ("carrot friends", my mom calls them), you don't need to say anything. There's no need to entertain. There's no need to carefully word everything you say. There's no need to be embarrassed. You can just be yourself.
"A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same."
~Elbert Hubbard
They love you for all your quirks and goofy smirks. All your flaws and blah blah blahs. They'll never judge, but will keep you straight. No matter what, they think you're great. (Like I know this "poem" was really corny, but that's okay!) With good friends, you value their opinion and care what they think of you. But you don't need to try so hard to get their approval.
Being a friend is a 24/7, around-the-clock job. And it's not always a walk in the park, but it's worth every extra step of the way.
Do you have any friendship quotes that you love? Or songs? (Like Taylor Swift's, "I'm Only Me When I'm With You.") I love quotes. They can so perfectly summarize a situation, a feeling, a moment, whatever it may be, all in a simple phrase. Sometimes they're like a fortune cookie, strangely appearing at very apropos moments. They're comforting, too, because you know that someone out there is thinking the same thing you are. You're not alone in this big scary world, even though sometimes it may feel like you are. And they can be interpreted in so many ways, applied to so many different situations. What I may connect to my dog, you may connect to your best friend. I love responding to quotes, too. They make perfect writing prompts. Just select a random quote, set the timer for 10 minutes or so, and write whatever comes to mind! Like a good friend, your journal won't judge you! For Christmas two years ago, my friend decorated this box and filled it with quotes. She said she had looked up online the best gifts for a writer, and she said she read that the best thing to give a writer was inspiration. So she gave me a year's worth of quotes! It was such a thoughtful gift. For awhile I chose a quote every day and responded to it in a little journal she gave me. When I was done with the quote, I glued it to the border of my vanity mirror.
Thanks to all my friends who listen to me ramble and all you readers who take the time to read it!
Here's hoping you all have or find that person someday who you can completely be yourself around. Who you can share a comfortable silence with, mess up in front of, and can call at any time of the day for anything. As my mom would say, I hope you all find your "carrot friends."
This was a week of very happy things, making me regret not having posted more often. Honestly I have no good excuse for not posting more often, considering my homework load was particularly light this week, but I still probably only averaged seven hours of sleep every night. I got distracted somewhere, I suppose, perhaps with all the happy things going on around me! But it would seem quite silly to write a post about my regret for not posting more this week about my week of happy things, because who says I can't just share all my happy things in one post? Snippets of happy things combined into one big happy post?? Little vignettes, my favorite type of writing style: short and poetic and vivid and to the point, perfect for capturing little moments. (Although these are nowhere near polished, so please excuse their lack of poetic quality. I suppose they're more like little rambles of happy things.) If you're interested, Sandra Cisneros has beautiful vignettes in her book, "House on Mango Street." I still find myself returning to her book whenever I'm in need of inspiration.
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Happy Vignette #1: Pick Up the Heart
The sky is ocean and the ocean is sky. At this time of day, the horizon line blurs so it is just one big canvas. The air is cool but there's a warm breeze blowing off the water. It's probably not much colder there than it is out here. Everything is at equilibrium, serenity, peace. Everything is at a standstill. The ocean is like one big sheet of Plexi glass, the clouds hover in a blue/gray mass but do only that. It's like running through a still life, a television show on pause.
As I run, I watch my step, avoid tripping over the jagged rocks, when I see a heart rock, stretched from the sides with long wings and a squat torso. But by the time it has registered in my head it is a heart rock I am already past and too stubborn or non-caring to turn back. Immediately I scold myself. "Why'd you do that?! That was the perfect heart rock!" Whatever. It's not the end of the world. But then, less than a minute later, I stumble upon another heart rock; bigger, better, screaming louder to be picked. This one's full and hearty, like a big bowl of homemade oatmeal. Again, I run past. But no...back up. I force myself to turn around. This is a sign, almost as if saying, "You didn't take the first one. Here's your second chance." A second chance at love. A second chance to live in the moment. Because what reason is there not for me to turn around and get the rock? So I run back. At first I think it's too big to carry, but Mom and Michael say we'll manage. We do. We take turns carrying it all the way home, spreading and sharing and passing along the love.
Paddle, paddle. Swim, swim. Don't give up! You're almost there! "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, that's what you do is swim, swim," Dorey's words of encouragement come back to me from a favorite childhood movie, "Finding Nemo." What a smart little fish, Dorey is! Despite her poor memory and sometimes harmful naiveness, she never loses hope. No matter what predator she and Marlin ran into, no matter where the current took them, she just kept swimming. Swimming through life.
As I watch the little herrings struggle up the ladder––the final leg of their journey––I am reminded of this song. Herring (also known as alewives) are one of the most abundant fishes in the world. Every year between April and May, the herring make their journey from the ocean to freshwater ponds and brooks to spawn, a sure sign of spring on the Cape. Their migrations are called a herring run, and assisting them in the final portion of their journey are ladders built at Stony Brook in Brewster, MA. (To read more about them, click on this link.)
After a week of 80º weather, the sun decided to take a break last weekend, so Sunday was cloudy and sleepy. But if you looked hard enough, you could see the little herring flapping their fins, swimming with all odds against them, and finally, when confidence was high enough, making the leap to the next level. Then they would swim to a corner to catch their breath, where they would rest awhile, building their anticipation. I couldn't help cheering for them every time one made a leap, and crying for them (not literally) when one would miss the jump and slide back down the levels like Chutes & Ladders. I also couldn't help feeling a bit angry at the seagulls who selfishly circled the perimeter of the brook, waiting to swoop for an easy meal. Other seagulls were so fat they couldn't even fly, so they perched on a nearby bench, eyes wide with greed. But to think these little fish had come all this way was admirable, and thinking of them swimming up that ladder made me think about the hardest workout I've ever done, and agree this journey was probably harder.
Happy Vignette #3: A New Recipe
Okay, so this recipe isn't ingenious. I didn't even have to turn on the stove or mix something in a blender. It simply combines all of my favorite foods in a nutritious and utterly delicious snack that is perfect for a post-workout, pre-workout, mood-booster, any time snack! There's no complicated directions or ingredients, and substitutions are welcome and highly recommended. During play rehearsal week I was eating and drinking honey like my body was made of it because it's supposed to be good for the vocal cords. So, to give myself an extra dose of honey, one morning I decided to squirt a little honey on my toasted English muffin with peanut butter. The honey melted like ice cream under hot fudge on the warm peanut butter, becoming runny and dripping over the edges (so this is a bit messy!) But, for those of you who have been following my weekly "Did you notice..." updates and who read my post about oatmeal, you know I love texture in my food. The crunch of granola in oatmeal, the hot and cold of a warm brownie with ice cream, you name it! I also love the presentation of food. One time I ordered French Toast at a restaurant and it was just four slices of yellow bread (cooked of course) on a plate; no strawberry, no whipped cream, no accessories. It had quite a bland personality. Anyways, the other night I was making myself my new peanut butter and honey English muffin obsession and I decided to slice up a banana on top (I used three slices on each), and for that extra crunch, a few almonds. And now I have a new obsession. The carbs from the English muffin, the potassium from the banana, the protein from the peanut butter, the sugar from the honey, and the fat from the almonds...you can't get better than that! I guess I could call this "invention" "Megan's Obsession." I encourage you to try some of your own variations with your own foods...maybe Nutella and honey? Nutella and jam? A different fruit? Pick your favorite foods and give it a whirl! I would love to hear what you come up with.
Happy Vignette #4: Fifteen
This week, I am the girl in Taylor Swift's song "Fifteen." Dancing around my room, lost in giddiness (I think my character from Pirates of Penzance might be rubbing off on me). When I first turned fifteen, I didn't feel any different from fourteen. My friend told me fifteen was going to be my year. I laughed, hoping she was right, hoping that something interesting would happen! But I wasn't getting my hopes up. Now, something is finally happening! All week I've been adding to my playlist, picking songs to fit my mood and listening to them on repeat. What I love about music is how a song can perfectly sum up everything you're feeling. It's almost as if the song was written for you! And when you have someone in mind when listening to a song, it makes it all the better.
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What makes you happy? Do you like re-watching your favorite childhood movies? What's your comfort food? Do you collect anything? I would love to hear your stories, and as always thank you to those who participate in "Did you notice..." and to all those who comment. I love hearing from you! And of course, thank you to all of you who stop by and read. It's exciting for me to think who might be seeing this; it's exciting to have an audience! I hope your week is very happy and inspiring.
Did you notice the moon tonight? Full in her evening gown but wrapped in a gray shawl, perhaps to protect herself from the frigid air that numbs my exposed face. Did you feel the snow today? When it ever so lightly and so politely landed on my nose and I went cross-eyed to see it--for it was the first of the season. It dropped in for a quick "hello" and then melted away on the tip of my nose and slipped down my coat as water.
There are so many moments that pass us by without our knowledge because we are so caught up from getting to Point A to Point B, and then from Point B to Point C, and somewhere in the day we'll probably add a Point D to the never-ending list of things to do. But what about the moments when we sit back and just admire? For maybe we do notice these moments, but fail to give them the attention they deserve. After the holidays, I was talking to my dear childhood friend who was diagnosed with AML Leukemia, March 2011. After talking about what Santa brought us and exchanging stories from Christmas Eve, she told me about how her family drove to see the lights in the center of town. Mind you, these lights go up every year and we must have driven by them hundreds of times over all the years we lived here and never even blinked an eye, yet after all she's been through, it was such a highlight for her to be able to get out of the house and see something beautiful. I suppose I never considered the lights "beautiful"--nor can I say I would categorize carrots and cucumbers as "beautiful" either, which she was excited to finally eat--but I suppose when you're as sick as she was, everything even remotely beautiful magnifies. And what a wonderful thing to be able to say carrots and cucumbers are beautiful! So she said, "Honestly, I wouldn't trade what happened to me for anything. The people I've met, the lessons I've learned, is all because I was sick. It is why I am who I am today." It's like her entire world has been spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, all her senses amplified.
So I am posing a challenge to myself, and I invite my fellow crazy dreamers to do the same. Every week, I will add spice to my life and open my senses and write down one thing--or more if I feel especially inspired--I notice for each sense: see, hear, taste, smell, feel. At times I may expand on one sense if I am feeling especially especially inspired. But please, I ask you, my fellow crazy dreamers, to join me in this challenge and post your findings as a comment. Because what I may notice could be entirely different from what strikes you. And the way I notice could be entirely different from how you see it. It will be one big pot of inspiration! I will keep track of these findings in a separate page in addition to my weekly posts. I will set up the page by next Thursday by the latest. Just keep your mind wide open, and you'll be surprised what you can find. Happy noticing!
Every year we've spent Thanksgiving with my dad's side of the family, and so even after my parents split we've continued that tradition and my brother and I have spent Thanksgiving with my dad. I love hearing about all my friends' Thanksgiving traditions, where they head off to and some of the corny things they may do. For the past five or six years (I believe this year was my sixth), my family and I have run the Thanks4Giving Turkey Trot 5K in Lowell, a charity run towards the Alternative House, an abused and homeless children's refuge. Back when my mom and I first ran it in 2005 I believe, there were only 200 or 300 runners. This year, there were over 1000 pre-registered runners/walkers, and more came after! It's always a fun time, and there's always someone who comes in some festive costume. Each runner always gets an apple pie after, too, but if that's not enough incentive, then my dad will usually take me and my brother out to Dunkin Donut's after for breakfast (this year it was more for Owen than for me).
After burning all my calories for the day so I can gain them back later with my uncle's sweet potato casserole with mini marshmallows and toasted pecans, (If you've never had it, you can't judge. Because after you've tasted it, there's no looking back. Here's an easy recipe: http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/traditional-sweet-potato-casserole-10000001673131/)
we might turn on the Macy's Parade to see what celebrities are on the floats this year.
Another fun tradition we have in my family is the Thanksgiving tree. It's really simple to make, and we've been doing it for years. Just find any stick thick enough to support itself and with enough branches sticking off to hang the leaves on. Find a small pot and place the stick in it. You can help it balance either by filling the vase with rocks or, like we usually do, get a block of styrofoam and stick it in there. Once your tree is balanced, cut different shaped leaves out of orange, red, and yellow construction paper approximately life-size, and hole-punch the stems. Tie yarn (preferably brown, but any color will do) around the stem to make a loop so you can hang the leaves on the branches. Space out the leaves among the "tree" and place in the center of the table. When everyone sits down at the dinner table, ask everyone to take a leaf and write what they're thankful for. When they're done, ask them to hang their leaf back on the tree. When all the leaves are back on the tree, have everyone randomly select a leaf (preferably not their own), and go around the table reading them aloud. It's always fun to try and guess whose is whose!
(I haven't made ours yet, but I just wanted to give you a visual. Don't worry...mine never looks this pretty.)
It's a beautiful day for Thanksgiving, at least where I am. Cool but sunny...classic fall weather! There really is so much to be thankful for. I'm thankful for my friends who are always there to make me laugh, my family who supports me, and this beautiful life God has given me! Today is a great day to tell you're loved ones how much they mean to you; I hope everyone has that opportunity! Happy Thanksgiving!
