I get struck by inspiration occasionally.

And then I wonder what to do with it.

And then I remember what John Jarmusch says. 

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. Always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: 'It’s not where you take things from — it’s where you take them to.'”

And my first thought?

"But...plagiarism..."

So I correct myself.

This is soul research.

In this case, the resources are different.

There will be no works cited page.

No bibliography.

Wouldn't true artists and kind people be perfectly content to let the products of their being just seep into someone else's being?

Perhaps the little details of life need no footnote.

They're just there.

Free Indeed.

 

 

 

We can be free.

 

Free indeed.

 

Just a thought that's been on my heart recently.

 

Also, an update from my mind...

 

I want to go everywhere.

 

I probably wouldn't like everywhere if I went there.

 

There are so many things that go into museum work.

 

I think I'm too nice to be an "academic".

 

I really like socks.

 

I really miss theatre.

 

It's very hard to not eat chocolate when it's in the vicinity and free for the taking.

 

Whoever had the idea to put a coffee shop in a small college town was a genius.

 

They're also probably very wealthy.

 

Despicable people.

 

"Taking money from bored and stressed college kids since 2010!"

 

I wish the library here was prettier.

 

Hard-boiled eggs are the best snack ever.

 

I am thankful.

 

Despite my complaints.

 

Despite it all.

 

Light

 

I think that light speaks to me.

 

I'm not sure why.

 

But I soak in natural light.

 

It gives me energy.

 

It calms me down.

 

I can't stand the harsh fluorescent lights everywhere.

 

Everything is washed out, fades the colors.

 

Things look more beautiful in real, rich light.

 

There is a woship song that says,

 

"I will celebrate the light..."

 

Perhaps I will.

 

Candlelight.

 

Sunlight coming through leaves in a tree.

 

Early morning sun filtering through a curtain.

 

Twilight making everything blue.

 

I want more light.

 



Much.

 

The view from this window is of the cemetary.

 

And trees.

 

And rain.

 

Finally.

 

Quiet.

 

A luxury at John Brown University.

 

I'm in college.

 

It's a lot to take in.

 

But it's incredibly eye-opening.

 

Everyone here is finding their way, too.

 

That's good to remember.

 

I've been listening to violin music.

 

Reading this blog. I adore her semi-erratic writing style.

 

And being with people.

 

Many, many people.

 

Friends are made so quickly here.

 

I'm definitely not used to that.

 

I suppose you kind of have to bond, just to have someone.

 

It's just so much.

 

My mind is trying to catch up with all the names and faces and history and places and tips and lessons and advice.

 

So much.

 

But not too much.

 

Not yet.

 

 

I Saw...

...the cutest cement truck I've ever seen (it had polka-dots)...

...a black and green tuxedo (by Stephen Sprouse)...

...evidence of elephants (but no elephant)...

...Chihuly glass (it was the ceiling)...

...a thousand people holding me up (they really were)...

...lots of House Hunters and Say Yes to the Dress (and Toddlers and Tiaras)...

...and people who talk a lot when they get nervous (not applicable to myself in any way).

Lately

Why, hello there.

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Lately:

1. High school graduate.

2. National business competition qualifier.

3. National speech competition qualifier.

4. Great Expectations reader.

5. Pinterest user.

And that's the best of life, is it not?

A Certain Kind of Sadness

These are some lyrics to one of my guilty-pleasure songs by Gotye, "Somebody That I Used to Know".

These words make me think.

And I think about how they describe me.

My perception of these words is this:

I adore fog.

I am enamoured with sad songs.

I love to wear dark, gloomy colors.

I am infatuated with black and white photography.

And they make me feel happy.

I suppose I am addicted to a certain kind of sadness.

I can't say I mind.

Wordsmith created by me.

Do Not Go Gentle



Be You, Please.



Hi There.

Nice to be back.

How 'bout a classic "good things" list?

Toms

hairspray

trumpet solos

shiny trophies

really nice suits

brand new books

brand new babies

Downton Abbey

play rehearsals

brotherly love

glass bottles

cherry pie

cool belts

nice ties

love

~

Mysterious

Amy Grant's mother told her, "Never underestimate the power of keeping some things a mystery."

I think she was right.



let's be...



Shall we?



I wanted to put Mrs. Wilder's words into something a little more cool

So I did.



Fatherly Advice

 

I made the mistake of asking my father, "What should I write about?"

His answer:

"After finishing my first semester of senior year, I reflect upon the many things I've learned...

...but mostly I think about my father and his wonderfully helpful advice."

Thanks, Dad.

Unfortunately, he's right.

I am a reflection kind of gal.

More importantly, my father does give pretty good advice most of the time.

"Manners are important to everyone but me when I come home."

 

"Go out and play with your dog."

 

"Do your work."

I really love my dad.

Mama Lion

Wow.

Talk about protective.

I'm sure you've seen various examples of mother animals in action.

The slow-mo of the mama attacking whatever stands between her and her precious babies.

I feel that way about many things.

I scare myself sometimes.

Like Pinterest.

Suddenly everyone at school is buzzing about it.

Mind says:

"That's my hour-sucking website! Back off! Stay on Facebook! Let me have my marvel-at-the-awesomeness moment alone!"

Or like the play.

Mind says:

"What?!?! Other people like acting too?! Impossible! I know you'll just mess it up. Let me have my good-memories-fun-times cast back!"

Or even like music.

Duh.

Something that was made to be shared.

Mind says:

"I'm gonna tell you about this group I like and this song that's stuck in my head all the time. But don't you dare even think about becoming a fanatical-fan-rave-about-them person like me!"

Empty threats aside...

...let me share with you!

• Pinterest: Love. True, deep love. I've tried a hairstyle I've fallen in love with. It's easy, fast, and cool-looking...all three of those things are hard to come by with my hair.

• Play: We move from last year's Faith County to this year's The Brothers Grimm Spectaculathon: surely the dumbest theatrical performance of all time and space. But it makes people laugh (including me - almost as hard to come by as the hairstyle) so what the heck?

• Music: Adele. Need I say more? Yes, I do need. I wish she would stop smoking. There, I said it.

Don't worry.

I promise I won't hurt you too bad if you get between me and my babies.

The Cycle of Depression

Here's how it goes with a friend of mine, in her words:

"Summer...yes. On summer high through September. October...no. Anger. Depression.

 November means...Christmas, and life is heaven on Earth."

Quite literally, I wish to add.

That aside, let me just say that I am one of the verbal anti-November-Christmas proponents.

Here's how it goes with me, in my words:

"No, I do not want to buy my dog a Santa sweater; not now and certainly not when it's actually Christmas."

"What in the world is all this garbage doing up in November?!"

"Man, they sure started early on Christmas lights."

"I hate 'Jingle Bells'."

Until, like, December 8th or something.

So I don't understand my friend's revolutionary change of heart that takes place in the magical time between October 31st and November 1st.

But, in the spirit of the November Christmas season, here's what I said I'm looking forward to about my December Christmas.

• Old movie marathons. Last year it was Doris Day.
• All the smells. Does cold air really smell like something? To me it does.
• And, of course, the Nativity. Nothing better.

Merry November Christmas. Stay happy.

Quotable Quotes

Five fabulous examples of what other people say and I generally agree with.

 

1. "The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here." {Abraham Lincoln}

 

2. "I believe Christianity, as I believe that the sun has risen; not only because I see it, but because by it I can see everything else." {C.S. Lewis}

 

3. "Anticipation is the most delicious feeling." {a book called Destiny I read years ago}

 

4. "I know in my heart that man is good. That what is right will always eventually triumph, and there is a purpose and worth to each and every life." {Ronald Reagan}

5. "I think that's what life is about, actually. It's about flowers and children." {Audrey Hepburn}

 

And of course, "It is best to be..." etc. wins top award.

 

Pin

How 'bout Pinterest?

I just like looking at everyone else's.

I kinda want one; not going to lie.

As this is turning into a list post in my mind, I think I will make it as such.

Ah!

I'll pin.

Pin my ideas here, like on Pinterest!

See, I tied that in quite nicely.

So:

• 
  
  The house currently smells like meat. Good meat. Meat that will soon be consumed. By me.

• 
  
  I am learning to make flowers out of tissue paper.

• 
  
  Tutoring fifth graders has made the phrase, "Their eyes lit up," a reality. They really do light up.

• 
  
  Captain America is going to be in another movie. I. Love. Captain. America.

• 
  
  Pirate Pete: Talk Like a Pirate is my new storybook for storytelling this year. I get to...well...talk like a pirate.

• 
  
  I enjoyed blog-surfing for about an hour tonight. So nice to poke around, after having been away for awhile!

au revoir.

Home is Where My Books Are

I've been reading books as of late.

It's been awhile since I've truly sat down and read a real book.

Let me just say, it's delightful to be back in my element.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children was lovely and frightening to my easily disturbed mind. I wouldn't suggest reading it at night.

The Chosen One was sad and sad and sad and intense.

Both I highly recommend.

Books are wonderful.

My mother recently gave a friend a card that says what this title is.

I need more books.

The Indians

Chickasaw, Choctaw, Cherokee, Creek, Seminole...

Iroquois, Algonquin...

...both of which "we've been saying wrong".

I've been doing a lot of thinking about Indians lately.

Native Americans.

You know.

I'm taking History of the West this year.

And apparently three-fourths of the class are suddenly "of Indian blood".

We've covered the Indians of the Northeast and Southeast thus far.

Every class is a sad account of how horribly Native Americans were treated when they "did absolutely nothing wrong!!"

My teacher is quite empassioned about the subject.

I enter sixth hour mildly excited about 50 minutes of stories.

I leave sixth hour feeling mildly depressed and guilty.

Then the librarian went and recommended the book Octavian Nothing.

More about slaves than Indians, but that's not the point.

*glistening tear*

Then my father had to go and want to watch The Last of the Mohicans.

*SOB*

Even despite my infatuation with Hawkeye/Daniel Day-Lewis...

...good grief!

I didn't do anything!

I promise!

But I still feel like I'm the one who kicked them all off their land.

I'm sorry anyway.