Books

Today, like most days when my lunch is held in a brown paper sack on my desk, I find myself in Barnes & Noble for my lunch hour. Upon entering the store, I immediately feel a sense of relief that quickly goes to my head. I breathe in the smell of ink on paper and I inwardly swoon at the thought of so many stories in one large, shelved room.

Father's Day themed books still hold the first kiosk of bestsellers, followed by New Releases and Buy 2, Get 1 Free. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles in the air, but I'm not ready to forsake the words yet. There are beach books and romance novels. There are many new memoirs with bright, catchy titles. (These make me want to write my own.) There are children's books, one illustrating a Dylan song. (This one makes me want to travel & splurge on good concerts.) There are cookbooks. (These make me want to quit my job and live in the kitchen.) There are new history books and unsolicited biographies about the Obamas. There are tables for summer reading books-- I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, The Pearl, Lord of the Flies, Huck Finn, All Quiet on the Western Front. There is my favorite, the book that illuminated my desire to write-- The Giver.

I read The Giver in ninth grade, later than most I suppose; my 13 year old sister read it last year in seventh grade. But the point is that I loved it, mostly because of how Ms. Scott dissected it, the way she asked us questions, the way we questioned ourselves because of the way she questioned us. I wrote a paper about the book when our unit was complete and I printed it on yellow paper. And she loved it; Ms. Scott loved it. Her short note of encouragement told me I could write, I should write.

I have many secret files of my writing and I wonder sometimes how they will all fit together, or if they will at all. When I read the back cover of a book I always read "About the Author" first. If that person is from my state or went to my college or likes something random that I also enjoy, I suddenly find myself writing my own "About the Author" before I realize that maybe I should write my book first.

Can't have the cart before the horse, and all that.

Mawwiage

My best friend Lindsey is getting married. I will be the Maid of Honor.

We have been dreaming about this day out loud for about 19 years. Or maybe just 12 because we used to hate each other. But I digress.

I would just like to say out loud, to the blog world, that planning a wedding is not really as much fun and games as you think it will be when you're 15. Because when you're 15, making plans for this weekend on Thursday is totally planning ahead. But a decade later, making plans in June for September is late. Also, in fantasy wedding land, the bride isn't a full-time grad student and the MOH (I have succumbed to silly wedding jargon) doesn't have a full-time job.

So this morning I sent out an email to all the bridesmaids with a glorious little spreadsheet with all the pertinent contact info along with some engagement dinner/couple shower & bachelorette party plans I had already discussed with the bride-to-be. (Sidenote: I really like to make lists.) I will be hosting the dinner in the town where we grew up at my parents' house and I proposed a date that felt far off enough for me to not freak out with the planning.

The date I'd like to do this is September 12th, which is a Saturday. How does that look for everyone? I'm sure it's going to be impossible to find a date that works for every single one of us, but we'll do our best! I'm so excited that we all get to do this together! Please feel free to give me your input on the plans!

Do! you! sense! my! excitement!?

The chain of emails that has ensued is out. of. control. I'll leave out the in between parts, but I'll give you some pieces of my latest response and you might get an idea of how this whole thing has been going:

Take some deep breaths for me and then stop going overboard with the ????????!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!!??! :) ... And I can actually handle those RSVPs if you want, that way you can study, so there will be less of this (?!?!?!freakin' the hell out?!?!?) and more of this (....calm....). ... Collective deep breaths now. ... Nobody freak out about the Bachelorette dates. Freaking out makes things no fun & we want FUNNNNN!!! Don't worry your pretty little head, dearest, just pass grad school.

I say all of these snappy little quips with all the love in my heart,

Hope

Seriously. Deep breaths.

I really am excited about this. I really can't wait to go to the restaurant on Saturday morning and check out the catering menu for the dinner I'm throwing. I've made a notebook with tabs and calendars and labels and to-do lists and guest lists and pretty sample pictures. I've joined theknot.com so I can access all of their great wedding-planning resources. I've saved all the invitations for anything and everything wedding related for the past several months so I can have real-life samples. I've pulled out all the wedding books and magazines that I bought during high school and college (that's no small collection, friends). I really, really love looking at my best friend in a gorgeous white gown and I even love arguing with her fiance about how the groomsmen can NOT wear sweaters with ties (yes, you read that right, sweaters with ties) instead of suit jackets for the ceremony.

So don't mistake this post for a complaint. This is me doing what I do best in our circle of friends-- saying out loud the stuff everyone else is thinking, and trying to make it funny while my best friend loses her mind because she's planning a wedding in the middle of grad school.

See how cute she is?! How could you not want to plan the most glorious wedding of all time for that face?


And lest you think I'm a bad friend, here's part of her response to the above email: LOVE! Thank you for making my life easier...I have finals next week, so stress is setting in! Ok...breathe...got it. Love you!

See? We wuv each other. It's wuv, true wuv!

Life in Color

During the past few weeks my life has been full.

I went to Colorado to see my favorite person to see, and I felt settled in my spirit in a way that had felt foreign until his arms embraced me.

We saw the Rockies at Coors Field and O.A.R. at Red Rocks.

Which is, if you ask me, the very best place to see a concert.

See how pretty?!

We dressed up and went out.

And when we went out, we ate meat.

Rattlesnake, yak, ostrich, buffalo, elk and quail to be exact.

When I came home, there was the marriage of two of the finest people I know:

Aren't they beautiful?

Many of us came together to celebrate with them.

When I am with these people, my days are filled with color.

Fantasy

I was talking with a friend today about work. We, um... how shall I say this...? We think there's a bit more to life than just making money. She was telling me about her fantasy of living and working at the beach-- a place that never fails to soothe her soul. She had only elaborated a little bit before I said, "Are you kidding me? I fantasize about various life situations more often than not." She laughed but...

My Fantasy Lives:

1. Live someplace new and write my first book

2. Marry someone who becomes the President and become a Jackie O-esqe style icon

3. Live at the beach and own a restaurant

4. Own/run a vineyard

5. Learn to play golf and suddenly find myself on the LPGA tour (I do actually own golf clubs, but have yet to put them to use)

6. Become a host on The Today Show

7. Become an editor at a well-respected publishing house (which would pay more than editing this, which I do sometimes)

8. Flip & decorate old houses

9. Travel the world and write about it all along the way

10. Marry my best friend, do all of the above, have babies and grow contentedly old

11. Have this blog redesigned monthly. (This could happen this month if I win this contest!)










12. And really anything other than sitting at a desk all day (various scenarios tend to play out based on daily situations)

The question becomes: what's stopping me?

Growing

Here's something I've been thinking about lately:

It's okay that the person I was six months ago is kind of embarassing to remember today.

Because, you see, it means I'm growing.

Do you ever reflect on things you said or did that, at the time, played out all movie-like in your head, but then in reality, it turned out you weren't actually in a musical?

This sort of behavior begins early. When I was in 7th grade, I had an 8th grade boyfriend and he was going to be my first kiss. We were at Kristy's party, sitting on the sofa in the basement, watching Scream 2. Jacob* was on my right, my best friend Lindsey on my left. During the action-packed crescendo of screaming, Jacob looked deep into my eyes, closed his own, began to lean in, and I....

...whipped right around to my left and loudly said, "So Lindsey! Did you hear about the basketball game?!"

*name changed to protect the poor schmuck.

Ten years (ish) later I have not stopped acting like that girl. These days, it's more along the lines of blurting out what I really think before considering the fact that it's hurtful or just completely inappropriate. It's those moments where you can almost see your words coming out of your mouth and you reach out to GRAB THEM FAST before they reach the other person's ears. Oh but that's too bad-- besides not being a musical, my life is also decidedly NOT a cartoon. You just can't grab that word bubble and take it all back.

So even though it is good to know I've grown up since 8th grade and even since six months ago, it's also good to remember little songs from before I was a grown up at all:

Oh be careful little mouth what you say...

Hmmmm, or something like that.

Painting Pictures Upon Silence

This week I had the great pleasure of witnessing a masterful, musical feast. Do you know the feeling of reverberations moving through the floor, into your feet, up your legs and into the rhythm of your beating heart? Do you know the wonder of a note, bursting forth, cutting through the silent atmosphere and spilling over, into, around, beneath, and among the awestruck faces? Might you recognize the marriage of strings and brass, air and movement, sound and spirit?

Music.

There are few things in this broken world that stir the whispers of eternity in my spirit the way music does.

This afternoon I received an email with a link to a video by a group called Playing for Change.



Playing for Change began in 2005 with the mission of bringing peace to the world through music. The idea is romantic and simple, and I think it's really rather beautiful.

The idea for this project arose from a common belief that music has the power to break down boundaries and overcome distances between people. No matter whether people come from different geographic, political, economic, spiritual or ideological backgrounds, music has the universal power to transcend and unite us as one human race. And with this truth firmly fixed in our minds, we set out to share it with the world. -playingforchange.com

I used to think music had to be "Christian" to be meaningful to me. I do not believe that any longer. I believe that music does transcend boundaries-- emotional and spiritual and literal. I believe art has a unique power to reach around the walls we have built up around ourselves. I believe this because I believe you and I are unique creations, crafted from the mind of the Great Creator, and I believe when we create music and poetry and paintings we are doing so in his image. And it's good, whether I believe it or not.

A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence. -Leopold Stokowski

It is Not Failure

This video keeps popping up all over the internet.

I've had so many thoughts about Susan Boyle and the implications of her stunning performance going viral in a matter of days. But my ideas had not developed to the extent of this word from Wayne Jacobsen.

In my journey towards understanding the value of humility, and towards humility itself, words like Jacobsen's tear into me:

"And while I understand those who would love to see their passion find a greater voice and place in the culture, it is not failure for God’s grace in you to touch the people he has put before you, rather than the unknown masses. Your story is not validated because it spawns a book; your song is not more precious because it secures a recording contract. So sing, write, paint, plant, nurture, design, act, and build however it brings joy to your heart."

I encourage you to read Jacobsen's post. It has simultaneously gladdened, humbled and freed pieces of my heart.