I lack depth

I have concluded: one of the most frightening things in existence is reality. The reason that you can keep your wits about you when watching "The Ring" is that a small - but wonderful - part of your brain is constantly sending THIS IS ONLY A DRAMATIC PRESENTATION STOP DO NOT BE ALARMED STOP telegrams to all appropriate locations. But if that girl from the well (I forget her name) did actually step out of your television well then you might die of fear like those in the film did. We could watch "Men in Black" or "Lord of the Rings" and see all the creepy/scary characters... maybe we'll jump or cringe but we will never have that genuine terror within that says we should take up archery because there's a chance an ork or an alien will attack on the way home from the theatre.
I have been realizing at a painfully slow rate that I am deathly afraid of reality. Actually, I might not call it a fear but perhaps an allergic reaction. It's not even that. It seems that I have not made a good enough acquaintance with reality to be able to understand it and to desire to learn more of it. How many mistakes have ballooned into life-changing problems because I did not understand what was truly going on? I have these ideas in my head of what is true and I run with that (as I do with other things) until I find something more true to replace them. But sometimes, those more true ideas do not find me but they wait to be sought out. It's .....not cool.

pah pa pa

My head is swirling with thoughts and I don't know what to say.
I have too much, somtimes, I think.
I want to read but I can't find a good book (these days).

--
It seems like it's been ages since I was last a student though in reality scarcely four months have passed.
At the first CCC weekly meeting of the year I feel myself desperately trying to hold on because I envision the LAST CCC meeting of the year and wonder who I will still talk to.
--
I had a dream last night that I couldn't play piano. I don't mean that I was incapable of pushing out any song on the keys, no (thank Heavens). What I mean is that I was unable to play the two pieces of music that I had told the evaluator I would play at the recital in front of 500 people. Mark you... that is really my dream in life. I'd love to play music for half a thousand people in a large cathedral-esque building at a grand piano. But this time, I was distraught because I knew I had not practiced the songs in so long that my memory was only half reliable which is FAR worse than being totally unreliable. You patch in and out of sections you know and don't know and there is no re-starting in performance. I didn't want to NOT play or to try to play the songs I'd promised. My plan was to ask if I could play two other songs that I knew I had memorized but she'd likely say no because (a) recitals don't work like that and (b) I only had the music for one of the songs (evaluators need copies).

When I woke up I resolved to head to my nearest free-acess up-right and start practicing. I don't even remember the last time I learned a new song. How sad.


--
There was a group playing jazz music downtown yesterday (actually, there were many since a Fest is on but I only saw one) and my one observation of them was that they were not playing music but that the music was playing them. It's like they just stand there and it flows out - or bursts forth, depending on the day. .... I've never said that before but it seems to make a whole lot of sense. That is what I have been trying to say about jazz and blues musicians since the dawn of time. Them and people like Michael Jackson who look like they're undergoing an exorcism when they wax musical.

somebody call for back-up

[Editor's note: a.k.a. "things that piss me off (0)"]

I hate when people excuse behaviour by claiming that they're "creating jobs". Are you kidding me? Are you actually serious when you say things like that? When you deliberately leave shampoo in the pasta section or when you make a mess out of your table's food and drink scraps right before you leave or when you neglect to return your dishes to the counter as expected is it your own little way of trying to boost the Canadian economy? Do you honestly think that your own instance of laziness will prompt a business to establish some new & unique employment position and be forever grateful to you (and others like you) for the innovative idea? Or is it that if you create enough of a mess or inconvenience that the business will be forced to hire more people to clean up after you that those two or three down-and-out folk will come on their knees grovelling and professing absolute gratitude for the favor you've done them? How is it your business to FORCE an establishment to change or expand its staff anyway?
I truly do not understand how and why people say things like this and expect not to be challenged. Every time I've heard it, I get the distinct impression that the speaker thinks they've found some impregnable defence for laziness and selfishness. Think about it: even if someone is being paid to replace lost items or clear dishes, why ever would you not make their job as easy as you possibly can? Sure, maybe you paid for high-quality service or you're tired or in a rush, but as a human being (especially as a Christian) there is no excuse for making someone else's life a little harder and their day a little longer because taking crap from customers is part of their job description. Think about it. Think, think, think.

Dear Jerry Seinfeld,
I think I owe you an apology. I have seen your show maybe half a dozen times, I see your stand-up comedy clips in between and I'm not going to lie to you: I didn't think you were that funny. The worst part of this whole ordeal is that the main source that I based my opinion on was not even a primary one. One [friend] of mine told me of her disgust at your show, that she didn't like your whiney voice and the way that you spun entire episodes off stupid, mundane things. (No soup for you is really not that funny - can I just go on the record as saying that?) I have been absurdly biased and you know what? that's not cool.
I probably won't be watching the show any time soon because I still don't find it raucously hilarious but I'll stop hatin on it, I can promise you that.
Here's the thing: I watched I'm Telling You for the Last Time this weekend and I need to give props where props are due. You are funny. You have great comedic timing. You are a good comedic actor. You know how to play an audience, you rehearse well, you choose your words carefully. I am impressed by your performance. It's nice to see that you work so hard even when you've made it so big. That is the time when we are most tempted to coast but you seem to know that you need to go hard always (to stay on top, not just out of pity or because people remember your great achievements of the past). This attitude also reflects - I think - a genuine love for what you're doing and a genuine ambition to better yourself only for your own sake. Am I wrong? Have I diagnosed falsely?
Well done; I tip my cap, sir.

"at around midnight all the STOP signs turn to YIELD signs.. at least that's what I think"

God makes good things. This is what I have decided. I attended a wedding on Saturday and I couldn't believe the gloriousness and the beauty that I saw. The music was phenomenal (as in it-rocks-my-foundations good), the couple was ecstatic and God was clearly pleased. I gave the bride a hug and it was so great b/c it's probably the first non-awkward hug (I mean 100% non-) I've had in months and a while. She and I seem to have this crazy weird connection that I would only cheapen by discribing and I love that I was able to celebrate with her. That word, by the way, is fantastic when it's not being over-used. Celebrate.
My thoughts as of late have been that God deserves to be the total centre of attention even on your wedding day when you think the spotlight is yours. Not even then. And how much more gloried is He (and, in turn, you)? Taking things away from God leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth and a merciless sense of regret in my stomach. I think also of the last funeral I attended and recognize that it also was a celebration of God and secondly of one life's contribution (by God, for God and through God). [I wish we wouldn't be so lazy with our language and run good phrases into the ground like grooves in a popular hallway. "By God, for God and through God," is a good way to do anything but it's also a good way to "flesh out" a prayer if you're stuck for words and/or flying on auto pilot.]
I hung out with a tripe-load of Christians this weekend and it was kinda cool. I generally like Christians. I listened to and participated in musical worship and I found myself almost ashamed to realize how far away from a front-line warrior I have become. The gospel doesn't take summer vacations... how do I always forget this? Wasted time is a killer. I believe that God is forgiving but I do not believe that I will easily or soon change. If only I could remember...
I was thinking the other day how miraculous it is that I was saved. I was -- saved. I think I was coming down Islington Ave just past Eglington, looking out the westward window and I realized, "I became a Christian." How fantastic is that? How am I not grateful? I am a different person because of God - and before God - and I don't even notice it these days. A dim light have I cast into a Las Vegas casino strip.

You know those things that you only do because they're hard? Maybe you don't do them but I do. I really get a kick out of challenging myself for the sake of a challenge. What's the point of taking the easy road? How are you better off? .... I should blow up this philosophy into a life-sized goal.

olfactory again

Man, I haven't smelled this place in weeks.

My library smells like electricity and cleanliness, books and cooled air. The memories that come back the sharpest are the ones surrounding other droughts. I think of my first week or two when I came here because I was insanely bored, shy and fully not into drinking.

I remember other times when I came here for long periods because I was heavy into the studying. (This was usually around the time of final examinations and also near the beginning of the semester.) Something - however cheesy this may sound - smells like ambition and maybe that's not the word I want. It smells like hard work and perseverence. I can't make this sound normal but this is the best I can do. This smell is encouraging. It would spurr me on because I remember all the times I walked out of here finished with an assignment or with a chunk of studying, reading to go home, guilt-free. It's like the concrete stairwells in my first-year on-campus residence. They smell to me always like the music urge and anticipation because I skipped and sang down those steps so many times toward the piano room at the bottom. How glorious were those days...

I really do love school sometimes but not at those times when I should have been in bed an hour ago and this conversation is still so stinkin interesting. My grand weakness, I've discovered, is closing my bedroom door when housemates are gabbing. This is my last year and I am more than ready to go. I would love to have a university degree. I'm sure that won't make sense to me until I get it but I do look forward to it greatly. Talk about a sense of accomplishment. yah

and I think

Twenty-five days ago I was last at my dad's house here in the Saugs. My fourteen-year-old brother stepped out of the kitchen where I had just left to ogle the pictures on the mantlepiece. He says, "Jess, when are you going to change?" Surprized but expecting nothing serious I ask with a short laugh, "What do you mean?" He explains, "When are you going to turn into some business woman -" (at this point I thought he was going to tell me to grow up) "-and stop dancing around in the kitchen and singing weird songs?" "Never, Jahrann," I said. "I hope I never stop that," and he said, with his characteristic unneccessarily loud and abrupt voice (that works very well for comedic timing, I might add), "GOOD!" I told him it was up to him to hold me to the unspoken promise.

whipflash

It's like a love affair with a man I can never be with. Can you imagine ...?

Some days it's absolutely unbearable as well as entirely inscrutible.

He's beautiful, he really is. Every now and then, just listening to him speak makes me cry. Other times, his mere presence gives me the insane urge to busily and eagerly become a better person. I feel like cleaning up my life because if anything else is imperfect when he's around, he is not being done justice.

We know eachother well and some days it seems like we're standing a few inches apart but I still cannot touch him. Is it lack of arm strength in me or lack of desire in him? Sometimes it seems so simple but I -just- -can't- -move- any closer.



It bothers me that there's no deadline. There's no way to say, "OK, at least by the time I'm 25 or 40 we can be together," no. I have no guarantee that I will ever get to have...
There's no guarantee that I will be able to make music with the freest of expression.

I want to be a musician and I'm waiting.

WARNING: disgusting content

OK so I decided that when life craps on me, it doesn't just haphazardly pinch off the next loaf that comes along, no. Life eats nothing but Mexican food for a full three weeks and then takes a laxative before it dumps on me.

Yea, you heard me. It seems like the crap comes in the craziest hit-me-while-I'm-down directions and I don't deal with it well. The last crap storm (of Wednesday) has died down without a big fight but it's part of a larger storm that has been spanning two or three weeks now.

I hope I can get better at my job soon. There's only six weeks left and I'm tired of being mad at myself. OH... I just remembered I left pancake mix AND soymilk in the refrigerator at work. Well that sucks.

We had another hit game of Animal Bingo this Friday and I plan to do it again for the next three Fridays. Kids seem to get a kick out of making random sounds for no good reason. This week, some of the kids made new cards and we ended up with money ("ka-ching, ka-ching"), a machine gun, an armadillo, a penguin and a dolphin. The last two were just weird. One boy thought that his card read "house" when it was meant to be "horse". He refused to make a neighing sound and instead said "hooooowwwwwse" every time one of his numbers was called. Another boy thought the animal was "cop" instead of "cow" (I need to take some penmanship classes) and so he said, "Weeee-oooooo, weeee-ooooo, come out with your hands up!" I told him that, instead of making a cow or a cop sound, he had to combine the two so we ended up with, "Weeee-ooooooo - MOOOOOO - come out with your hands up!" or any other combination of those three phrases. I definitely laughed the first five or six times he did it. The same kid (so weird yet so funny) thought "dog" said "pog" and he asked me, "What's a pog?" I told him about the game with the small cardboard circles and he agreed to make that sound for his card. So, every time his number was called he yelled (and I mean yelled), "POG!" It was so loud and so dumb that I couldn't help cracking up, pretty much EVERY time he did it. The other kids were going nuts too which made it worse, especially the little guy who kept saying "house".

Man o man. Good times at the ranch. I played lots of "basketball" today and yesterday. It was fun. I think I'd like baseball better. I like playing against people who are better than me and, with my skill set, those kind of opponents aren't difficult to find. It's good times in a hand basket.

Have you ever wished that you didn't know the Living God because it would take a GREAT deal of responsibility off your shoulders? I don't think I've ever wished that, actually. The important thing, though is that this post is done.

clip & smile

"Have you guys ever heard of an artist called Stabilo?"
"No."
"Who is he?"
"He's a latin singer and I want to get some of his stuff."
"In Spanish?"
"Yes."
"How will you understand it?"
"It's music."

three of them in Lebanon and I forgot

This is the first nine-to-five job I've ever had. It's weird. I could not honestly say that I wanted or want this job but I have it and I'll keep it.
stamps
I definitely have a farmer tan and I definitely had a few very good laughs yesterday.
My public awaits?
I need to learn how to not take my work home with me. I hate when people talk about me behind my back and then ask me things they shouldn't know, expecting I won't notice but just confirm the inquiries.

I will be sad to leave most of the kids in my group as I move to a completely different one. On Friday, some of them smiled like they actually liked me which was surprizing considering how much yelling I did this week and how often I had a scowl on my face. This is not like parenting, not really. Some boy said he'd bring me a flower and I wonder if he will.

I need to know: how do I curb that feeling of elation and freedom and joy that always comes when I get enough money in a lump sum to make me feel secure for a week or a month, a day or a semester? The printer just started whirring. "Whirring" is a cool word. I like philosophizers. I don't mind feeling joyful, believe me. The problem is that the sudden rush of happiness (uncontrollable, making me feel invincible) brings to light the fact that I have not enough faith to feel so powerful, so "set" without money. Do not set your minds on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. The pagan world runs after all such things and your father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and all these things will be given to you as well. What is my problem? I know that He provides; I know that I will live past credit card debt and temporarily discontinued telephone or cable service. But, I can't deny that I STILL live here and there are STILL things that get me down.

I had a great conversation with my mother last Saturday about guilt and about money and it was good. The conversation started and closed within five minutes but it alleviated problems several years compounded and will allow something in the future to live. I mean, I can have a better relationship with my madre now that I learned a few things and said a few things. It was hard, just to force myself to be direct with her because I know her tendency to sidestep these very things. It's frustrating and humiliating. [Jahn, I know you're reading this.... is it awkward yet?] But I called her out and it was good. P.S. So is God. Think of yourself lying on a bed when some ACME one tonne weight comes and lowers itself ever so slowly and ever so gently onto your chest. It moves at a rate of three quarters of an inch per month from thirty inches above the bed. After four years, you are in trubs. My breathing was labored, the lungs pinched quite efficiently. I can breathe, I can breath. Let's not be too hasty [still I think he's rather tasty]: the weight still dangles and I can't slither out from under it but at least now I can talk and move ever so slightly. I might even go to the bathroom.

And then I went home and tried not to eat too many Fritos Hoops. They are way too good. I seem to enjoy.

and

There are some boys at camp whose pictures are in the dictionary under jock and I'm not gonna lie: I find them entertaining. They like to disrupt, to talk back, to win at sports, to cheat at sports, to be the centre of attention and to laugh at anything they can. I can't even say that I wouldn't want to be their leader (aside from the fact that I'd be leading Sports Camp and I'm not adept with sports) because they don't fully cross the line of disrespect, defiance or rudeness. One of them looks like David Spade . There are three of them and today I saw something amazing happen with each one of them. The entire camp was on a glorified treasure/scavenger hunt and these boys ended up being the leaders of their groups of 8 to10 younger kids (without any adult leaders). The I-want-to-be-silly-and-not-do-what-I'm-told attitude disappeared and the boys became perfect leaders. They were serious, they were responsible, they were calm and they did a decent job of including their team members in the activities. I was totally impressed that none of them took a power trip like they could have. They didn't try to boast or leave other kids in their dust like they would on the dodgeball court. I'm sure it helped that they were separated but I was still impressed by the change that leadership brought about in these boys. When I saw them come to my station I didn't really know how to deal with the feeling of (gladness?) (joy?) that I felt at seeing the boys turn into cooperative, peaceful children. It's not just that. It's not like I was glad that they weren't being a headache to the counsellors. I was happy because ...well I can't articulate it. I couldn't even find someone to sympathize; there was no way for me to express my surprize and delight over the change in them. oh... such gloriousness.

Spanglish, part two

This quotation I found in PREMIERE magazine from December 2004/January 2005 seems to relate to what I was saying earlier today about this film.

[From an interview by Jason Matloff with director James L. Brooks]
You also explore the positive relationship between father and his children, something rearely examined in movies.
I wanted to do a movie about an American man who didn't ahve to learn that his kids are important and that he's being a jerk.

Cool! This man thinks outside his own box! I love it. I love people who look at society critically and come up with something good. It's even better when they don't panic or become cynical.

8.7/10

sporadic sizzles

God makes beautiful things - can I just go on the record as saying that?
The smell of bananas frying (lost in pancakes) is simply amazing. Why do we even think we can copy what was here before us?

I jumped to the front of the line when they were giving out Your Free Trial-Period Brainwashing! and I think I'm still paying for it. I could ask myself: what ever possessed me to say I'd rather have licorice over a bowl of grapes or Oreo cookies over home-made tea biscuits? It's a joke to even TRY to have some sort of competition. I know what I go for and I am saddened when I have moments like these where I remember that less human intervention means good things. Good, good things. This dishsoap smells horrible.

"Spanglish" (2004)

I enjoyed this film a great deal. My memory tells me that the reviews for it from the Adam Sandler expert/fan collective were not good. I understand why this would be so.

At the risk of sounding like a retired, affluent and bored woman just being invited on an outing, I was delighted with this. Something about it was just good. It did not move like most movies move. I didn't understand things and they weren't readily explained to me. It reminded me of Runaway Bride because the dialogue - along with other great things - was very real. I enjoyed Adam Sandler's acting. I enjoyed Tea Leoni's acting. Not a one person in the film did a poor job. This film did for me what (I think) Rosanne did for the television-viewing public: it showed a dysfunctional family and made no apologies. Spanglish hardly ended on a happy note. It hardly tied up loose ends the way I expected it to. I loved every minute of it; every minute but one. (There was a very awkward "sex scene" ...... no comment.) One of my favorite lines is as follows: John (Sandler's character) was being pressured to do something at work that he did not want to, even though he is the boss, and so he said, "If you don't [let me have this] then I'm gonna light my hair on fire and punch myself in the face until you do." He stopped walking and made a face. He turned to face the man he was yelling at and said, "Yea, that was a really weird way to make my point."
Another of my favorite attributes of this was that Sandler was not the main character. In fact, I don't think we saw him until 20 or maybe 25 minutes into the film. Man, I can't even describe all the things I love about it. I think that, in doing that, I would take something away. I don't even know if I would watch it again. Hmmmmmm

It strikes me as somewhat sad that all I blog about these days are films but on the other hand I think this is OK because, if a film is worth blogging about, it aint that bad. I am on a quest, after too many years of watching too many films, to find the truly good ones, the ones that allow filmmaking to be classified as an art, and to leave the others behind. It truly becomes a saltwater waste of life. It's too easily sunk into.

While I'm here, let me say that Father of the Bride (1991) and its sequel (1995) are good films, too. Steve Martin surprized me and I learned a few things about him that I think are cool. He's more wirey than I remember and he looks like his ankles get more rotation than any other human's do. Now Martin Short on the other hand, he is impressing me evermore with his magnificence. I don't know what it is about him I just LOVE to watch him act. I love that he is Canadaian, too. He is one of those few people who can convince me that physical comedy is a real talent. There are others like Lee Evans, Jim Carrey and Rowan Atkinson who do the same. Short's character made me gape sometimes. I watched and listened with my eyes wide and my mouth open in a stupid smile because I was so mesmerized by how hilarious and flawless this man was.
The film itself was slightly more cheezy than my tastes prefer but I did survive. This was another of those not-what-I-expected and very-real-life films. Hmmm .. it's like a trend. What I found very cool was that I almost bought Diane Keaton and Steve Martin as a married couple. If I did not know better from real life, I would believe them fully. (This is hard to fake.) Good acting all around, again. B.D. Wong was in this movie and that was like the sprinkles on the icing of the cake. I know B.D. Wong best from Law & Order: SVU so in this role his prowess as an actor just skyrockets. Man! good times.