Kathryn Bigelow is 58-years old? I seriously thought she was 32. What a beautiful woman.
Watching the Oscars makes me want to be in show business. I just want to tell stories for the rest of my life.
I guess that this blog will have to do.
It’s been awhile since I’ve talked about my feeeeeelings. For those of you wishing to keep a finger on the pulse of my emotional health, this one’s for you.
I remember around this time two years ago, soon after I had moved to Nashville, feeling lonely and afraid and sad.
This move could not be more different.
Not much scares me these days. I don’t know why this is, why this time I feel so much more stable and confident - maybe because my reasons for moving are different than what they were two years ago. Maybe because of what I experienced in my time in Nashville. Maybe because I’m just a little bit older.
Nashville was an amazing two years - but it was loud, and it was painful. I will never be sorry for the time that I spent there, but to be honest, it felt like being put through a cheese grater. A big part of me died while I was there. I was stripped of a lot of things: dreams, expectations, confidence, even truth.
A lot of times, I forgot what I know to be true.
This past month has been quiet and understated - a welcome change from the chaos of my life for the past two years. I miss my friends in Tennessee, and start to feel a bit left out when I think of their lives going on together and without me (because how could they possibly live without me?), but most of the time, I feel calm. My heart feels still.
I have no idea and no expectations for what this season in life will be or bring about. But I am seeing glimmers of revival in the parts of my heart that I thought were dead and gone. It feels foreign, but it feels like hope.
The comments that you left in response to Thursday’s blog
I was blown away by a couple of things: 1) the TRUTH that was so evident in so much of what you were saying, and 2) the HONESTY about something that isn’t easily summed up in a cliché phrase. I love that so many of you felt free to share a glimpse into your own stories and experiences with that curious thing called Love.
For the record, I am in agreement with many of you: I don’t believe in “The One”; rather, I think that I will wind up with “A One.” If I believed in “The One,” I would have married JC Chasez when I was 15.
And on a personal note, I loved it when Casey said, “You ‘know’ when your introvertedness doesn’t mind sharing your space with that person.” I’m pretty sure that in my case, that will be the flashing marquee sign telling me to go to Vegas RIGHT THIS SECOND.
Lord of the Rings
Last week, my roommate Julie told me that she had never read nor seen “Lord of the Rings.” I think that I shrieked, “WHAT??!?” and then fell down dead. But after the disbelief came action, and we watched “The Fellowship of the Ring” and “The Two Towers” this weekend.
Have you ever had the chance to watch something epic – something that has changed your own life, something that has become an essential piece of how you view the world – affect someone else for the first time? It was so, so fun – and I think that Julie is hooked, even though she kept calling Strider “Striker.”
Micah’s 6th birthday
Yesterday, my nephew Micah turned 6. I saw him last week, and when I asked him about his upcoming birthday, he said, “I can’t wait to turn 6! When you are 6, you can do SUCH FUN THINGS – like a cartwheel and lose a tooth!”
And my cynical, disillusioned heart melted into a puddle.
If eyes cleansed with tears see the most clearly, then today, I have perfect vision.
Sometimes, I think that I’ve gotten really good at confessing my tiny faults in hopes that no one will ever suspect nor discover the big ones. But lately, I’m not very good at hiding them – and as a result, have been pummeled with my rather large, rather imperfect, imperfections.
I guess that’s bound to happen when you exist in relationship with other humans.
We are messy creatures. I am a messy creature.
And sometimes, it brings a lot of tears.
But I’m learning that the people who stay – the ones who don’t run away when the going gets tough, the ones who listen without trying to fix, the ones who forgive ugly words and flat-lined attitudes and the same old shit that you carry around no matter how your life changes or morphs or moves – are worth anything and everything it takes.
Communication. Honesty. Vulnerability. Compromise. Effort. Forgiveness.
I am learning a lot. And I don’t call them my “starter husbands” for nothing.
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My friend Heather (SHOUT OUT – hey girl heeeeey) recently told me that this blog is the only “Dear Diary” blog that doesn’t make her want to vomit. Well, that kind of made me want to vomit, because wait – I don’t write a “Dear Diary” blog, do I?
Who am I kidding.
GAH. Enough about my feelings. I’m changing the subject.
I woke up this morning with 7 spider bites on my thigh, abdomen, and armpit.
I never go to movies, but all of a sudden, I want to see a ton: “Away We Go,” “Harry Potter,” “Where the Wild Things Are,” “Julie and Julia,” “The Time Traveler’s Wife” (you know during the preview where he says, “You have a choice,” and she says, “I never had a choice”? I LOSE MY MIND), and “500 Days of Summer.”
I wish I had a cute lunch bag.
Jeremy: “I have some great ideas for pictures on the cruise.”
Me: “Awesome!”
Jeremy: “I know. There’s one shot that I’m positive I’ll have to get.”
Me: “Cool – what is it?”
Jeremy: “Well, it will be you, in some sort of dress. And we’ll go to the very front of the boat. And you’ll climb up on the railing, and spread out your arms. And we’ll find a deckhand to come up behind you and whisper into your ear…”
Trust me: if we make this happen, you will be seeing it.
Yesterday, I got some fantastic news.
Tyler got the Red Ribbon at preschool!
I can’t really remember what that means, except that only one kid gets it at the end of every day. It has to do with some sort of virtue, I think – like sharing, or listening, or helping, or being kind. And the Red Ribbon is a very big deal. It’s an honor.
This was Tyler’s first time getting the Red Ribbon. He was so excited and proud. And this auntie’s heart is bursting.
I can’t wait to see him in Kansas for his 4th birthday at the end of the month – especially to watch him ride his tricycle with his short little legs. (SQUEEEEEEE he is so cute!!!!)
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I don’t quite know how to segue between a preschooler and an R-rated movie – but has anyone else seen “Atonement”? I watched it over the weekend, and cannot stop thinking about it. A raw and brutal story set to the percussive rhythm of typewriter keys, it has left me speechless.
You must see it – that is, if you’re okay with some very sexual scenes and graphic violence. Which… apparently, I am.
I dare you to try to convince me to see “Star Trek,” you nerd Joey.
Confession: I haven’t written a song since November.
GAH. I don’t want anyone to know that! I am such a fraud.
I feel like a snail – one that has been left out in the brutal sunshine, shriveled up inside its flimsy shell. I feel no inspiration. I have no ideas.
Oh, sure. One might argue that I’ve had a few other things going on in recent months, taking a lot of my time and energy. But still. When I’m not writing – not outputting in some way – something important inside of me feels dead.
All I feel is tired. Craving time alone, or maybe just an old dog, or a little toddler to snuggle. I don’t want to have to explain myself to anyone. I don’t want to have to find words to voice anything – because how can I possibly express what I’m feeling?
Huh. This is an inconvenient stance for a so-called songwriter to take.
But I’ve been here before. Remember? And so I’m taking the same approach as last time, and giving myself the grace of filling up my mind with other stories, other songs, other ideas. It worked last time – I wound up writing some new songs that I’m quite fond of, a few of which you HAVEN’T EVEN HEARD YET.
(Annie Parsons’ EP, coming soon someday to a website near you.)
So I need your help again. What should I fill my mind with? It can be a song, a book, an essay, a website, an article, a movie… what do you feel inspired by, or just plain enjoy?
I just finished season 1 of “Heroes,” and in spite of a ridiculous plotline and an often painful script, that was some good entertainment. Destiny! Purpose! Exploding humans! I’ve been listening to some great songs – Julie Miller’s “Give Me an Ocean,” and Kasey Chambers’ “Nothing At All,” and Vienna Teng’s “City Hall.” And it is difficult to make me much happier than to turn on “This American Life” or “The Moth.”
On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve been reading “The Catcher in the Rye” for TWO WHOLE MONTHS, and have recently decided not to finish it – because it is depressing as hell and let’s be honest: if I haven’t finished it by now, then I really don’t care at all about Holden Caulfield (case in point – I had to Google the book just now to remember his name).
Let’s all kick-start our hearts, shall we? What do you love?
Netflix has made it easy for me to discover and watch some lesser-known documentaries – so while I love the popular “Spellbound” and “Young At Heart” (seriously – see them both! Your heart will sing!), I’ve unearthed some other gems that you should know about.
“American Teen”
A film crew descends on a high school in small town Warsaw, IN, and follows 5 teens through their entire senior year. With disarming candidness, these 17-18 year olds draw you into their worlds; in a mere hour and 35 minutes, I honestly became emotionally invested in these kids. When it was over, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to wallow and cry, remembering my own awkward high school experiences, or go out and hug every teenager I saw, in an effort to say, “It’s totally going to get better. There is so much more to life. Hang in there.”
“How’s Your News?”
Five mentally and physically challenged adults are taken on a rare adventure – an RV trip across the country with stops in major cities where they act as field reporters. Get ready to fall in love with these people, and to sing along with the theme song (that they wrote!).
“Born Into Brothels”
We all know what happens in the Red Light district. But what about the children who call it home? Two filmmakers enter into the lives of the children of prostitutes in Calcutta, India, and build relationships with them, using photography lessons as a way to connect. The horrific living conditions of the children juxtaposed with their sweet spirits and eye for poignant, incredible photography create a sense of urgency – is there a chance for a better life?
“Standing in the Shadows of Motown”
I watched this at the recommendation of Juliette. And it is fantastic.
“Shut Up and Sing”
Remember when Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks made that controversial statement about the President of the United States? This is what happened after. And it’s amazing. And inspiring. And makes me want to stand up for what I believe is right. Regardless of what you thought of “the incident,” as they call it, this is worth watching. I will always love the Dixie Chicks.
“Unknown White Male”
How terrifying would it be to wake up on a New York subway with no clue as to who you were – except a phone number in your pocket and a British accent? The mysterious amnesia of Doug Bruce – a young, good-looking, seemingly healthy man – made me think deeply about identity. What is innate? What is learned? And if I woke up tomorrow with absolutely no idea who I was, would I still be me?
Go feed your mind.
- “When You Wish Upon a Star”
- Geppetto’s wish that a puppet would become a real boy. What?
- Creepy Blue Fairy
- Cricket as conscience
- “Give a Little Whistle”
- Honest John (wicked fox). MISLEADING.
- Figaro (pet cat, unclothed, walks on all-4’s), and Gideon (mute cat, clothed, walks like a human). INCONSISTENCY.
- Cleo (flirtatious goldfish with long eyelashes). AWKWARD.
- “Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee”
- Pavarotti… I mean, Stromboli
- “I’ve Got No Strings”
- Puppet locked in a bird cage
- A nose that grows with every lie. A NOSE THAT GROWS WITH EVERY LIE.
- Pleasure Island
- Boys turned into donkeys for “behaving like jackasses”
- Subsequent braying
- Puppet swallowed by gigantic whale
- Puppet sneezed out by gigantic whale
- Puppet dies
- Puppet brought back to life by the Blue Fairy as a reward for bravery
- “When You Wish Upon a Star” reprise… because we didn’t get enough the first time around.
When I was a little girl, there were a couple of movies that I watched over and over again. All of them were taped straight off TV – back when Sunday nights meant family movies on ABC, back when VCR’s had the pop-up compartment for the videotape, back when we lived in San Jose, CA.
I knew – and still know – every word (dialogue and lyric), every dance, and every nuance to “The Sound of Music.” I watched some portion of it every single day from age 4-6. I also obsessed over “Annie”; how could I not? I thought the idea of being an orphan was romantic (sorry, Mom and Dad), and the opening song, “Maybe,” remains one of my favorite melodies to this day.
And then there was a 1985 Disney film called “The Journey of Natty Gann.” I have not watched it since probably 1989, and had totally forgotten about it until about a month ago. As soon as I thought of it, I added it to my Netflix queue, and finally re-watched it last night.
I never realized how formative this movie was for me.
Here’s the plot summary, taken from IMDB:
Natty Gann is a twelve-year old Depression era girl whose single-parent father leaves her behind in Chicago while he goes to Washington State to look for work in the timber industry. Natty runs away from the guardian she was left with to follow Dad. She befriends and is befriended by a wolf that has been abused in dog fights, hops a freight train west, and is presumed dead when her wallet is found after the train crashes. Dad gets bitter and endangers himself in his new job. Meanwhile Natty has a series of adventures and mis-adventures in various farmhouses, police stations, hobo camps, reform schools, and boxcars.
Natty Gann’s sense of adventure, fear, courage, longing for home, and love for dogs convinces me that I absorbed so much from this movie. I only wish that John Cusack had been my first kiss.
A couple of things that struck me, this time around:
See – now you HAVE to watch it. It’s so exciting!
Go back and watch a movie that you haven’t seen since early childhood. I’m convinced that you’ll be struck with something – something deep inside of you, something formative, something that you never realized had a source.
I mean, honestly. Why else would I have a secret-yet-unsquelchable desire to name my firstborn “Fievel”?
