I got to looking at facebook, and I think I like it better than blogger. It looks a little more confusing, but I guess I'll get used to it. I don't know if I can put my photo-art there as well, but I guess I can try.
By the way, all the RUPERT videos are up, and live on YouTube.
Rain clouds overshadowed the pool, and with reluctance, we climbed out and toweled off, standing under the porch roof. I liked the sight of them, wet and bedraggled, here. No, really - HERE. With me.
I spent every minute of the day pinching myself, but it was real.
No, really - HERE.
"Showers are open," I offered.
"I'll hop in one," Jo said, and went inside. She was moody off and on, and it was weird. Typically I was the one zinging from polar to polar. But since they were here, I remained at a consistant high. (Until I was forced to take cold medicine...then I got cranky and threw a couple tantrums. But that's beside the point.)
I talked with Merry for some time before we too headed inside. But suddenly Jo came back downstairs.
"Problem," she announced. "I don't know which is hot and cold water. The taps - "
I started sniggering, and mum looked from paperwork on the dining room table. "Oh, just take your shower," she grumbled irratibly. Obviously, she was not having fun with the sums. I kept laughing.
"But -" Jo began again.
"Hot is on the left, Cold on the right. Like always." Mum huffed, and Jo rolled her eyes, going back upstairs.
I let out a loud giggle.
"She's really blonde, isn't she?" said Merry.
The next day, I noticed that the 'H' was on the RIGHT, and the C was on the LEFT. So they were backwards after all.
And a week later, when the party was over, I noticed that they had been quietly rearranged to their proper positions.
curious, and curiouser still.
I'm not one to get all political, and get into philosophical discussion about the news or anything, but a recent occurance has left me thinking.
The latest terrorist attack (and I'm sure you've heard of it) occured in Glasgow, Scotland, where 4 men drove a burning jeep into the airport. I don't know all the medical details and all, but it's obviously not stunning.
About two years ago, God laid it on my heart to reach out to the Atheist and Islamic community in England and France. It sounded wonderful at first, but then I got to thinking.
I knew it would be more difficult than going to Africa and such, because those people are so impoverished, they appreciate any help. Whereas in Europe, there's not this urgent sense of need. So...it'll be difficult to face these people. And now, as I realized last night, I will have to deal with terrorists.
I am so scared.
Going over there will feel like how Frodo feels when he comes home to the shire. He's expecting this image of rolling hills, and cheery faces, and instead he gets smoke in his eyes, and a battle to be fought. I think that's how its going to be. I may be wrong, but....*shrugs* I don't know. I just don't know.
I've been reading alot on the crusades lately. It's so horrible - and it's all done in the name of God. Slaughtering people? Sending hundreds of children to their death? For Christ? I feel sick. But I feel like I have to know this. When I get to England, I am going to have one of the old manuscripts with the crusade knights and everything on my door. That way, when I leave my apartment, I will think about it, and not make the same mistake. I am here , out of love. I am here to change hearts, to create new life, through the talents my King and God have given me. It may be easy to hate these terrorists, but hatred in a heart, Jesus says, is just like murder. So I will not crusade, and slaughter.
I will love. And I will only be able to do it through my Saviour.
I returned this morning at 5am (or at least that's what they keep telling me - I'm so mixed up, I'd tell you it was noon, except that it's pitch-black outside. Hopefully I'll be all sorted out by the time I get to Wichita, so I won't wake up at 3am, wanting to play a game of cards or something.)
Anyway, although I miss New Mexico, I'm glad to be home. I missed my kitty, and my comic books, and my own quilt. The quiet here is almost too quiet. I've gotten used to insanely loud stuff almost 24-7. Get this - if you were a good kid, and went to bed and got up when you were supposed to, you only got 6 and a half hours of sleep. Now calculate: annoying room-mates, zoo animals for neighbors, electricity problems, and having a hard time winding down after partying all day.
That's more like 3 hours.
But somehow this hobbit survived, and I wrote letters in every spare moment I had, so those will be sent out soon. (No, I don't feel like waiting. I don't like waiting.) I was my usual Nuwanda-self, running around with red-lipstick war paint, breaking rules and climbing trees. I SORELY missed the fellowship, though. Now-a-days, I feel at peace, and I'm okay with being so independant. But at camp, all that disappeared, and every waking moment, and even sleeping moments, the fellowship was on my mind. I dearly wanted to share this with you guys. I took a lot of pictures, but it's just not enough.
For starters, (and maybe this was part of my problem) the area looked just like Fangorn Forest. Big, green roling hills and mountains - Huge Willows and Pines and Aspens....
In fact, I was listening to the BBC radio program of the Two Towers, and I woke up to Tree-beard yelling, so I sat up and looked outside, and nearly had a coronary. I half expected Isengard to be on the other side!
Well, I'm about to go get dessert with my family. I'm listening to the beatles right now. It's great.
Well, signing off,
with love,
Maddie
Hey - I'm sick...and I'm leaving for camp on monday. So if you don't hear from me again, I'm probably dead.
The kids that go to school here are pretty dumb. They aren’t supposed to be, ‘cause you know, Pencey’s like one of those places where we’re all supposed to come out reciting Beowulf or something petty and rhetorical, and then go on through life acting like born geniuses. Whoever thinks that’s going to happen is pretty delusional. So anyway, these ‘smart’ kids pretty much all say I’m a ‘momma’s boy’ or some crap like that since I go home practically every other weekend, but you know what? First of all, I don’t care what they all say, and second of all, you wouldn’t believe the babes that went to public school up there. I’ll bet they never thought of that.
It was one of those weekends where I was fed up with my roommate Ackley who was always nosing around and the two weirdo lower classmen next door, Caulfield and Stradlater, and I decided to go home. I know it’s probably a big stinkin’ mark that I go to Pencey ‘cause I go around calling people by their last name, but Ackley doesn’t even respond to his first name. I used to try to call him Robert, or Bob, even Ack just for the heck of it, but he just stares off into space, as usual. Sometimes he won’t even answer to Ackley. It makes me want to punch his lights out, the way he ignores people with that dopey look on his face. I mean, he’s not that bad of a kid – just nerdy, I guess – but he has these tendencies or something that are just flat out maddening.
Okay, so back to the names. Caulfield doesn’t mind his name Holden, but I don’t know which he prefers. He’s kinda strange. Nobody knows all that much about him ‘cause apparently he’s gone to a bunch of other schools, and only came to Pencey pretty recently. He doesn’t do squat here, and just fools around. To tell you the truth, I sort of think he’s manic, ‘cause one minute he’ll be joking around or something, and the next, he won’t say a word, but will just stare out the window. I guess that’s why he changes schools so much. He’s also sort of known for his wild stories. Then his roommate, Ward Stradlater, is one of those guys who’s always getting a girl and going to movies and stuff. He doesn’t hang around too much, while Holden and Ackley are basically shackled to their rooms. They don’t do zip.
My name – well, my full name – is Herb Elijah Gale. Herb Gale goes on the records, but everyone calls me Elijah or Ely, ‘cause Herb just sounds....dumb. Like I should be working in some crappy office or something. And no way I’m getting stuck working in some crappy office. No sir. So call me Ely, will ya?
Anyway, Ackley was doing the usual routine, moping around, disappearing through the shower curtain, and I’d listen to their muffled conversation, and then Stradlater would show up and Ackley would come back and mope around and about an hour later the same thing would happen again. He hates Stradlater for some reason. I guess something happened long time ago. I don’t know. But anyhow, if he wasn’t roaming around, he was staring at his homework. You know what? I don’t think I ever saw him work a single problem, but I spent plenty of time – too much time, really – seeing him gape, glassy-eyed, at his lined notebook paper, as if watching the math calculations work themselves out on the page. Surprisingly, he got amazing grades in Calculus and all. I just wish I knew how the kid did it.
I was so fed up with the monotonous boringness of it all, that I decided to leave, and the only way to get out and get a life was to go to the game that day. So I got all bundled up ‘cause it was freezing, but then I realized that my winter coat was being cleaned. So I decided to pull an Ackley, and went in through the shower curtain to the other dorm.
Surprisingly, only Stradlater was there, putting on a tie and staring at himself in a mirror. “You going to the game?” he asked, without looking at me. “Holden actually went. If you see him, tell him to come back. I need him to write something for me.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Hey, can I borrow a coat? Mine’s in the wash.”
He didn’t raise an eyebrow or anything. “In the closet,” he said, and went on staring at himself. Strad’s kinda narcissistic, if you know what I mean.
I went over to the closet, and found two coats; a brown camel-hair one, and a hounds-tooth one. I felt none too sure, but I took the camel-hair. “Thanks,” I said to Strad, pulling it off the hangar and trying it on for size. It fit pretty well, if only kinda stiff across the shoulders.
“You’re late you know,” said Stradlater. He finally put the mirror down and looked me over. “The game’s already started.”
“Aren’t you going?” I asked, half-in, half-out of the shower.
“Nah,” he said, going to back to the mirror and combing his hair. “I’m getting myself a date.”
“Have fun with that,” I muttered, and withdrew.
I quickly jammed some shoes on and then set out, asking old Ackley for the last time to come with me and get some fresh air. He said he didn’t feel like it, as always, and I left without him. When I opened the outside double doors, the wind hit me full-face with an icy blast, and I suddenly wished I had some mittens or something. But then as I trudged across the half-frozen grounds, the frosted grass crackling under my steps, my wish was granted; I jammed my hands into the pockets, and found a pair of fur-lined gloves. I instantly put them on and made a mental note to return them with thanks.
I finally got to the stadium and tried to find a seat amidst the roar of the band, the wild cheering, visible plumes of breath, and every other senior with a girl on his lap. I suddenly felt sort of blue, or out of place or something, when I finally found a seat to myself. I mean, I didn’t have a girl (‘cause I didn’t know any around town, only up north) and I basically spent the whole time shivering in the stands, yelling every now and then to root for the team, even though I’m positive they couldn’t hear me, and one voice in the sea of voices didn’t make that much of a difference. I happened to look up as a shadow passed over the already bleak sun, and a lone figure stood there, at the top of the hill, surveying the people in the stands and the game and the band. He stood leaning against the cannon, legs apart, shoulders hunched, face hardened – and I realized that it was Holden. Holden Caulfield. Just when I recognized him though, he suddenly turned around, and ran down the hill. I told you he’s manic. I never know what’s wrong with him.
Even half an hour after the incident, even after thirty minutes of me just watching the game, just watching Pencey win like we always do, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. A kid like that is bound to have problems. I finally leaned over a guy next to me, Mal Brossard, and struck up a conversation, just to get him off my mind.
“Hey that was a nice pass, wasn’t it?” I said. He looked surprised that I was talking. See, he was an underclassman. They’re always funny to talk to.
“Yeah – yeah it was a good play,” he said. He wrapped his scarf around his neck a little tighter as a gust tore through the strands. “Terrible weather, though.”
“You said it,” I grumbled. There was a pause.
“You’re next door to Holden, aren’t you? In the Ossenburger wing?” he asked suddenly. Oh no, I thought, remembering that he and Holden were buds. “Have you seen his hat?”
“His hat?” I asked.
“Yeah, sure. It’s one of those red hunting caps with ear flaps and everything. He bought it in New York while I was with him this morning.” The kid was grinning like it was some hilarious joke.
“In New York?”
“Yeah – but here’s the funny part – Holden wears it backwards cause he thinks it looks better or something. Its killer. You gotta see it.”
“I’m sure,” I muttered.
“He’s just doin’ it for laughs, you know,” the kid went on. I wanted to kick him or something. I didn’t want to hear about Holden. I wanted to hear about the game. “He just wants to go out with a bang.”
“What?” I said. I wasn’t really listening. “A bang?”
“Yeah – didn’t you hear? He flunked almost everything, so he’s going home Wednesday.” Mal said it with a shrug as though he didn’t care. But I knew he did. He and Holden did stuff together.
“Nope, hadn’t heard that,” I said after a moment. I felt really down, and wanted to leave; besides, dinner was going to happen soon. Not that it was any good or anything – Saturday night was always these rubbery steaks. But the potatoes were good.
I said so long to Mal and left the stands only a few minutes before the game ended and everyone else crowded out. It was a lucky break, I’ll tell ya that, not having to rub shoulders with everybody in the school.
On my way back to the dorms though, I decided I wasn’t hungry for steak or potatoes or anything. I wasn’t hungry at all, really. I wanted to go home. Pencey can be pretty miserable, if you know what I mean – always the same bells, the same meals, the same classes, the same spoken words, everything, everything exactly the same. And I had to get out.
When I got to my room, I could hear Holden and Ackley talking next door. I peeked in through the shower curtain, and sure enough, Holden had this red cap on backwards. I felt sorry for the kid. I really did. I would have stayed and maybe joined them, except that it was depressing me even more so I started packing. I had to lay out everything on the bed, ‘cause Ackley kept breaking chairs. He always sat on the arms until they cracked, or he tripped over his own shoes he left all over the place. Just another of his annoying habits, I guess.
I finished packing pretty quickly and then sat on the end of the headboard, smoking a cigarette near the open window so you couldn’t smell it, and listening to Ackley’s and Holden’s banter. But then I felt sort of antsy so I finally got up and grabbed my suitcase. I checked out of school and got a taxi and all and got off at the train station. It wasn’t until I got there that I realized I still had the camel-hair jacket and gloves on. I figured I’d return them when I got back Sunday night, and hopefully old Stradlater wouldn’t be sore.
I checked a timetable and bought a ticket for a train was coming in about an hour. That suited me fine. While I waited, I went into a nearby shop and got a cheese sandwich and a soda. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but it sure beat staying at Pencey, in the same seat, at the same table, having the same meal, with the same people. It drove me ballistic sometimes. I got back to the station in time to hear a message over the loudspeaker: “Due to inclement weather, the 8:45 and 9:30 have been delayed. Thank you for your patience.” And then the thing started all over again. “Attention all passengers – due to inclement weather....”
I went outside, and saw that it was snowing. Oh great. So I quickly went back inside. The trains probably weren’t delayed. They were probably glued to the tracks. I’ve always heard that ice and snow are terrible for trains and stuff. I ended up waiting around for about two hours, bored out of my skull. I read every magazine I could get my hands on, and I paced all over the place. Finally, I was told that the trains wouldn’t come until well past midnight, so I gave up. I was going to call home and tell them what happened, but then I realized it was pretty late. I’d tell them tomorrow. I spent the next hour or so standing outside trying to get a cab, and shivering like crazy. I finally got one though, and went back to school. Boy, that’s what really got me. I actually went back. I was pretty blue.
When I finally got into the dorm, Ackley was wide-awake, sitting up in bed. He looked pretty cross. “What’s going on?” I whispered, turning on a lamp. Usually, he was fast asleep by now. Ackley didn’t say anything, so I set my suitcase on my bed – and realized there was blood all over it. “Ackley!” I said, staring at him. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Holden left.” He gestured at my bed. “Apparently he got in a fight or something, and wanted to sleep in your bed – “
“In my bed?” I said incredulously. I didn’t know what else to do, so I started taking off the sheets. “While bleeding?”
“I guess his nose....” Ackley trailed off.
“You say he left? Where did he go?” I asked after a moment.
“How am I supposed to know?” Ackley snapped. “I gotta go to Mass in the morning. Are you going to spend all night interrogating me or what?”
I didn’t say anything and just changed out of my ice-encrusted clothes. I figured I’d better return Stradlater’s jacket before I forgot in the morning. I snuck over to his dorm and looked around for a moment. Holden’s bed was empty, and old Strad was sitting around, smoking. I tried asking him about what happened, but he only grunted and told me to leave. So I explained about my bloody bed, and I wanted to know as least why it was like that, so he let up and told a snappy story. I finally gathered that there was a fight between him and Holden over something Holden did. Which prompted the kid to just pack up and leave. He took all of his stuff with him and didn’t leave a note or anything.
“The most irritating thing was,” Stradlater went on, “we all knew he was gone because he started yelling at the end of the hallway. He said something like, ‘sleep tight, ya morons!’. That sonuvabi – ”
“Hey,” I interrupted, before he go on much further. “I got your jacket. I’ll just hang it up, okay?”
“What jacket is that?” said Stradlater, peering at me through the darkness.
“The brown one. And there were gloves in the pocket – ”
“Oh, its not mine. It’s Holden’s.” He took a long drag on his cigarette and gave a dry laugh. “It’s Holden’s,” he said again.
I don’t know why, but I wanted to slug him. I never really liked Holden, but I felt sorry for him, and nobody was sticking up for him; I was so irritated – I just couldn’t hold it back – so I dropped everything and socked him one on the jaw. Then I threw the jacket in his face and stormed back to my room without waiting for him to get up or anything. I figured I’d deal with everything in the morning.
It took a long time to fall asleep, especially with Ackley starting to snore and all. I kept thinking. Caulfield was gone. He flunked out. He’s manic. But is he that different from everyone else? Just a little more tired of life or something? I didn’t know. I finally dozed off, with the only non-blood-stained sheet pulled over me.
I dreamed of trains crashing all night long.
(Just another school writing assignment that I thought was interesting enough to post. The prompt was the write a chapter of catcher in the rye from another character's perspective. My teacher said I got the voice down-pat almost too well - the last comment he left was: "I wish Holden could read this."
Me too.)
I just put up a new banner.
I need a job.
Bad.
So it looks like I'm going back to Oz for a couple weeks. I'm....not sure what to think. But I'm excited, that's for sure.
I talk about myself too much,
and I'm
feeling vain.
I think if I just watched the film by myself, I would have still liked it, but under the circumstances, it made it all the more precious to me. I was home, in Wichita, for a couple weeks in the summer, staying with some friends. We’ve known each other since middle-school days and there are a lot of ‘traditions’ we do. Back then, we were sort of known around town, because we went to the movies a lot as a group; not that that’s anything special, but we went practically every time in costume. Just for kicks. It started with Lord of Rings, and only got worse. People at the local movie theater started rolling their eyes at us when they saw our cloaks. Sometimes, the cashiers didn’t even ask what movie we were going to see. They just rang up the tickets for us. We sort of advertised for them in a way. We even did that at the drive-in theater, which was way more fun but a lot more expensive.
Another tradition was nick-names; if there was a particular movie or book we were all in love with, we would sometimes go about calling each other by the character’s names. (I ended up being Frodo from Lord of the Rings, and to this day, they still call me on the phone, asking for a Mr. Baggins). So even if I hadn’t seen them for a year, when I came to visit that summer, nothing had changed. The same traditions were there, and will probably still be there for years to come.
I was staying a friend’s house and the usual gang was over. They had planned to rent a movie that I hadn’t even heard about and wasn’t too sure of. We usually watched ‘guy movies’, shunning mindless chick-flicks. It was just the way we were. But as puzzled as I was about the movie they had picked out, I decided to join them and we all settled into a friend’s basement to watch it. Within moments I was completely and utterly enthralled. The cinematography and music alone captured me, and when the character’s personalities and inside jokes became a part of the whole story, I knew it would be a favorite forever. It was the Dead Poet’s Society. It was laugh-out-loud funny; it was utterly depressing; it made you want to join them in their wild and daring escapades; it was heart-wrenching; it was bitter-sweet. It drew forth such an array of emotions that it left you feeling quite tired and contentedly pensive after seeing it. And I was in love. My friends were in love. It was one more adventure we had shared together.
It wasn’t long before they started calling me ‘Nuwanda’, and we snuck out at night and took a walk around a lake with the full moon overhead. It wasn’t long before we learned how to properly ‘yawp’, and gave our cries at local pools and the like. And it wasn’t long before I had to return to Kingwood, for school to start.
I still watch it alone every once in a while. Dead Poet’s Society is definitely a classic. There is so much packed into it: the smooth, natural dialogue; the stunning New England scenery; the endless action in the background, and the jokes; the soaring spirits of these young men, nearly tangible. You simply cannot refrain from grinning, and feeling like you are one of them. As if you have belonged there once. It is a fantastic film, but it was made all the more cherished because of the people that shared it with me.
(This was one of my last essays of the year, and I wanted to share...)
This is (was) my last official day of school. Of course I have one final to take this friday (math? How'd you guess?) but....this was it. THIS WAS IT. No more love-of-my-life english class. No more beautiful Tosh. No more evading GS glances. No more lunch with C and RA. No more Ms. G for French class. No more senior friends. No more sneaking out of class to put various articles of clothing on the giant bronze horse. No more computer classes. NONE. No more, no more!
I BEG OF THEE-
WHAT ELSE HATH LIFE TO OFFER?
"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea."
-Antoine de Saint Exupery
This is a sad day for my childhood. Lloyd Alexander died Thursday at age 83, of cancer. He just finished a book, "The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio" which is based off Middle Eastern tales, and it will be out in August. I always had the dream of meeting him someday, and letting him know just how much my adventers with Taran and Princess Eilonwy influenced my writing. But now that dream is gone.
May God bless him and his family.
I'm on the verge of crying my eyes out. And I don't know why.
I'm feeling very self-fulfilled. I designed a whole stock of polo shirts for my english class. I designed, and made, the literary publications. I put a tie on the bronze horse at the front of school. Now all that's left is to climb the water tower. (It's a secret dream of mine, you see. But I'll have to do it at night, otherwise, I'll get arrested. But it really is going to happen before I graduate).
I've decided somethings about life:
-boys are stinky
-kitties are great
-catnip is the most amazing plant of all time. (I seriously think I'm high or something. It's so great.)
-siblings are annoyances to prepare you for annoyances in life
-and New Order is basically the best early 80's UK band.....ever. (Madness is late 80's UK, in case you were wondering.)
And if MUSIC were a man, I would have already said my vows.
I took the first swim of the season yesterday. It was cool at first, but as I wriggled my way through the clear-as-crystal waters, muscles frantically working to remember the patterns from last summer, I gradually became used to it and it felt as warm as my skin. I found my swim-fins - the kind that people scuba dive with, and slowly paddled around with those. I know its ridiculous to have a small, 6-foot deep pool and be wearing gear such as that, but I am ridiculous.
I also saw spider-man three today, for mother's day. What an adventure! I thought it was fantastic. All this comic-book buisness is beginning to grow on me. My sister and I are seriously thinking about starting a series. We both have our characters and story outlines, now all that remains is to organize a little more and start sketching. I can't disclose any more information...I'm afraid the rest is a surprise.
Currently, I am listening to 'New Order' (a new fave) and struggling with the idiocies of chemistry. I have a week left, and if I can keep from drowning, an exemption form is mine. If not, I am sentanced to a very nasty exam as an unfun end of school year celebration. The same goes for math. I'll be estatic if I graduate with anything resembling a C. School is seriously depressing me. I'm under a ton of stress, and I'm sick to top it all off.
Oh bother, bother, bother.
I'm going to bed.
I feel so extraordinary
Something's got a hold on me
I get this feeling I'm in motion
A sudden sense of liberty
I don't care 'cause I'm not there
And I don't care if I'm here tomorrow
Again and again I've taken too much
Of the things that cost you too much
I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun
My morning sun is the drug that brings me near
To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear
I used to think that the day would never come
That my life would depend on the morning sun...
When I was a very small boy,
Very small boys talked to me
Now that we've grown up together
They're afraid of what they see
That's the price that we all pay
And the value of destiny comes to nothing
I can't tell you where we're going
I guess there was just no way of knowing
I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun
My morning sun is the drug that brings me near
To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear
I used to think that the day would never come
That my life would depend on the morning sun...
I feel so extraordinary
Something's got a hold on me
I get this feeling I'm in motion
A sudden sense of liberty
The chances are we've gone too far
You took my time and you took my money
Now I fear you've left me standing
In a world that's so demanding
I used to think that the day would never come
I'd see delight in the shade of the morning sun
My morning sun is the drug that brings me near
To the childhood I lost, replaced by fear
I used to think that the day would never come
That my life would depend on the morning sun...
It is thunder and lightning outside, and I'm listening to music doing homework. Just got back from school - accpeting an award, that is. I actually didn't go to school today. I have a cold and I'm bone-weary, so I just stayed home and slept the whole day. And wow, did it feel good.
Right now I'm trying to plan out a beatnik party at a coffee shop next week....
I'm hoping people will actually perform. I'm a little nervous about performing myself, though.
The thing is, my English teacher is leaving next year and we wanted to present him with...well....we don't know yet. But anyway, I seem to get voted as 'head honcho' quite a good bit lately. I designed (and ordered) class shirts, I'm organizing this party, and I'm taking care of publications. I had to step out of Ren-Dance becuase earlier, two people took that job, and there's no way ONE unexperience dancer can suddenly take over with no notice. I mean, it's only fair, isn't it?
Thunder!
Lightning!
The Night Cries Out!
I think I am letting people walk over me too much. I think I shall return to my beret, black turtle-neck, poetry, and hot cup of tea.
A Beatnik am I.
Thunder!
Rain, Rain, Rain....
I needed this link somewhere (its for when we decide upon printing the end of year writing journal):
http://fedex.com/us/officeprint/onlineprint/news.html?CMP=ILC-PRN009
I am incredibly depressed. So I failed the college math. Now what am I supposed to do?
still majorly stressed out, so could you pray for me? SAT was fine. I spent the rest of that day tooling around art mueseums with my english class. It was a good saturday. I've decided that I'll go to college (locally!) for the first couple years dowtown. It's awesome.
Well, I'm getting ready to head off to take another college course-thing. I failed the last three, so I'm trying for the last time. Math is killer. I'm so tired, I fell as though my eyes could just fall out of my head and roll around on the keyboard.
I'm off to Mount Doom...dunno if I'll return alive...
It's a good week, but its stressing me out....I'm in charge now of the literary magazine and English T-shirts, I have my SAT this saturday, and I'm swamped with homework. I'm hoping to keep it all together before the school year ends, but each day I get a little more frayed....
I'm a madman! A sweaty-toothed madman!
I just got my haircut - it's supershort. And I mean SHORT. I'll post a picture soon, on Finch's Nest. Guess what? I spent last weekend watching Dead Poet's Society - I just couldn't stop thinking about it, especially after reading Catcher in the Rye (now one of my absolute favorites of all time). *sighs* I wish I could go to boy's prep school....
I also spent some very early hours last Friday at 3 in the morning, in war paint, driving around town with blaring music and hyper middle-schoolers. Gotta love church retreats. I signed up to be a chaperone/teacher, but of course I did neither.
Well....not much has changed around here - I'm still rocking out to my 80's music, working on the greatest literary works of all time (my short stories) and talking to Jupiter and watching it rain. I have a presentation tomorrow and a math and chem test and *gasp* SENIOR PORTRAITS. (Good Lord - where did the time go?) But it'll be Friday, so that's always a good thing.
Well, a good thing is if I get enough sleep, and I don't think I ever will. (I honestly envy Rip Van Winkle, you know that? Lucky, lucky....)
Hope it's all dandy with everyone else.
With love,
Nuwanda
i have tendonitis (however you spell that) in my right hand, and i'm in a ton of pain. please, please, pray for me.
I don't want to say "I love you"
That would give away too much.
It's hip to be detached and precious,
the only thing you feel is vicious.
I don't want to say "I want you"
even though I want you so much.
It's wrapped up in conversation,
it's whispered in a hush.
Though I'm frightened by the word,
I think it's time I made it heard.
No more empty self possession,
visions swept under the mat.
It's no New Years resolution,
it's more than that.
Now I wake up happy
warm in a lover's embrace.
No one else can touch us
while we're in this place.
So I'll sing it to the world
this simple message to my girl.
No more empty self possession,
visions swept under the mat.
It's no New Years resolution,
it's more than that.
Though I'm frightened by the word,
I think it's time I made it heard.
So I'll sing it to the world
this simple message to my girl.
No more empty self possession,
visions swept under the mat.
It's no New Years resolution,
it's more than that.
Oh there's nothing quite as real
as the touch of your sweet hands.
I can't spend the rest of my life
buried in the sand.
to you all -
He is Risen,
He is Risen Indeed!
Please pray for Selena, the bulgarian missionary. I haven't had word from her in a while, and its worrying me.
A couple updates on stuff:
-four new videos on youtube (check it out at http://youtube.com/finchfilms) though three of those might take a day or two to finish uploading.
- I have lots of new graphix and designs on finch's nest, and I'm afraid to post more, becuase no one has commented on the last ten or so...(I honestly wonder why I bother somethimes. Maybe I ought to be medicated for manic depression.)
-Jupi says HIIIiiii! (and yes, just like that).
and that's about it.
I am currently eating a strange turquoise jelly bean (I think its cotton candy? Not sure) and listening to the Split Enz, my new favorite group.
1980's, New Zelanders.
Can you say AWeSoMe?
(if you look up my video webpage, you can watch alot of their music. It's pretty sweet).
So again,
Happy Easter,
and good night!
With love,
Melle Finchley
I have a certain teacher who, for some odd reason, does not wish to cut his hair. So now that his bangs are in his eyes, he's rather taken to wearing a black hairclip. Just one. Off to side. Not all that noticiable until the light catches it.
Awkward?
Is it a fashion statement?
A Prancing Nancy? Or a Transcendentalist?
You decide.
Our class made a big deal and razzed him for it. And thus OPERATION HAIRCLIP was born.
I stood in the hallway, two black hairclips keeping my own bangs away from my face, handing out other hairclips to my classmates. We stood in a hushed huddle in the middle of the hall, grinning to keep a case of the giggles at bay. He suddenly appeared in the hall, and too flustered to really notice us, said that we were loitering and to get in out seats. We sheepishly smiled at each other as we came into class while he bustled off to the library. More students arrived - I ran out of hairclips. Another girl had brought some. C. snagged a pink one. We tried to pull ourselves together and act normal. The bell rang. We were in our seats. We were chatting normally as he walked in. He began teaching. We stole glances at each other behind his back. He wasn't noticing. He passed out tests. Some people (including me) had forgotten their books, and were going to get points docked.
Uh. Oh.
He settled into a regular schedule.
What now?
G. leaned his head to one side, pink hairclip clearly visible in his dark hair. He asked a loud and repetive question. The teacher turned away from the board, and stopped in his tracks doing a double-take of G. A snicker broke out. Said teacher slowly surveyed the room, his bafflement increasing with every degree of his turn.
"What?" said S finally, nonchalantly. A silver hair clip stuck straight up out his black hair.
We lost it. A roar of laughter broke out. Teacher was bent double with bewilderment, curiosity, and giggles.
He waved his hand, trying to catch his breath. "I like this too much," he said at last. "I won't take off any points".
My hand triumphantly shot into the air, and we settled down to our tests, still snickering.
I been locked out
I been locked in
But I always seem to come back again
When you’re in that room
What do you do?
I know that I will have you in the end
And the clouds - they are crying on you
And the birds are offering up their tunes
In a shack that’s as remote as a mansion
You escape into a place where nothing moves
And I been locked out
And I know we’re through
But I can’t begin to face up to the truth
I wait so long for the walls to crack
But I know that I’ll one day have you back
And the hills are as soft as a pillow
And they cast a shadow on my bed
And the view when I look through my window
Is an alterpiece I’m praying to
For the living and the dead
Twin valleys shine in the morning sun
I sent the message out to my only one
I been locked out
And I know we’re through
But I can’t begin to face up to the truth
I waited so long for the walls to crack
But I know that I’ll one day have you back
Yes I will!
And I work with the bees and the honey
And every night I circle like a moon
And its an act of simple devotion
But it can take forever
When you’ve got something to prove
I've been locked out
I've been locked out
I've been locked out!
(Yes, my new 80's obsessions. Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aq645z7qfp8)
here.
Seven weeks or so of school left. This will be my last actually decent year, 'cause next year, I won't have hardly a school. The construction is going to get really bad, and they're taking away most of our breaks.
I'll probably have to hospitalized for insanity half-way through.
I wouldn't be surprised.
I'm still trying to figure out all the college stuff.
I'm going to stuck here for seven years.
*sighs* Unless I somehow make enough money as an author and can afford to live in a flat somewhere...fly home on holidays...living sweetly, just myself and my cats and computers.
I'm listening to some spiffy 80's austrailian rock-opera music. It's flippin' awesome.....Want to hear it? Yes?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Yav3C4nKAY
The group is called Split Enz. I have a growing fondness for them. They're pretty cool. That song probably isn't their best, but I really like it.
Well, I had to present a poem to the class today: the Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy (my new favorite!) I was the first one to go, so I trembled from head to toe so badly that I thought I would faint. But otherwise, I did alright. I painted a picture of a bird in a snowy tree, and tacked up behind me. I was dressed in 1910'ish clothing (-ish being the key word). So, I'm hoping my props will make up for my horrific acting.
Still thinking about publishing something. I don't know about novel (I'm almost ADD when it comes to long stretches of literature, you know) so I'll just do a collection of vignettes and short stories.
Hmmm. Yes.
Thinking aloud.
always has such a distinctive smell.
especially leather. ever noticed it?
like a dust layer, it settles,
a portion of commercialized industry
in your living room,
standing quietly alone,
or making a broad statement.
the new texture, length, style -
all takes time to become accostumed to.
not the same as the old,
not love worn, or stained
but fresh, reeking of the factory,
and new,
and exhilarating.
new furniture,
it is.
I just finished the Radio Program show I gave for my church. Last year at the banquet, I played four of my own piano compositions. This year, some girls and I did a comedy radio play. We had three separate skits with songs and crazy characters. Should have been sheer fun.
But it was madness.
On the way here, there was an ugly yelling match with Jack and Al who don't cooperate anyway, but now they really weren't. We got our sound check 5 minutes before people started arriving. I was pulling out great chunks of hair and hyperventilating.
Then our turn for performing came around.
First, I get out on stage, and my hands shook so badly I couldn't play the first song. It came out all jumbly, so I just stopped and joined in singing. But I forgot what it was I supposed to sing. And then when I did, it actually the wrong words. Ever heard of the song "Big rock candy mountain"? The actual lyrics aren't too church appropirate, so in the script I altered them. However, I found myself singing the original lyrics ON STAGE.
"Where cigarettes grow on treees...."
I sure it went over really well.
Then, I was slow on other cues, and on my way out, knocked an entire microphone stand down some wooden steps, narrowly missing a stand of lit candles.
When I came back on, I forgot to sing the melody part, so the song was all in harmony. No melody what-so-ever. Then I put the wrong sound effects on. Then, I found that my mike was having problems (since its recent tumble) and the cord was jammed under my piano stand. I had to bend and fix that, nearly toppling piano, candles, mike and all. But fortunantly I didn't. Then I forgot to stand closer to the mike (considering its weird, sideways position) and most of my lines were lost.
On my way off the stage, I tripped on cords.
Third and last time on stage, I was wearing sunglasses for my character - and found that they were so dark, I could barely read the words on my script. I stuttered every other word (instead of being the coy Italien heiress I was supposed to be). Then I got my accents mixed up, and left the piano on stage when I wasn't supposed to....tripping again on my way out. Then as I was cleaning up, there was a quiet lull that was soon filled with the crash of me dropping a hammer down a staircase by accident.
There's no one on earth clumsier.
a fiaso! A complete fiasco!
my acting career is over!
a ten page paper
without even breaking a sweat
and now i'm gonna party
like there's no tomorrow.
Son coeur est un luth suspendu;
Sitot qu'on le touche il resonne
His heart is a suspended lute;
when it is touched, it resounds.
A man walks out of his apartment,
It is raining, he's got no umbrella
He starts running beneath the awnings,
Trying to save his suit,
Trying to save his suit.T
rying to dry, and to dry, and to dry but no good
When he gets to the crowded subway platform,
He takes off both of his shoes
He steps right into somebody's fat loogie
And everyone who sees him says, "Ew."
Everyone who sees him says, "Ew."
But he doesn't care,
'Cause last night he got a visit from the
Ghost of Corporate Future
The ghost said, "Take off both your shoes
Whatever chances you get
Especially when they're wet."
He also said,"Imagine you go away
On a business trip one day
And when you come back home,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan,
Your children have grown
And you never made your wife moan."
"And people make you nervous
You'd think the world is ending,
And everybody's features have somehow started blending
And everything is plastic,
And everyone's sarcastic,
And all your food is frozen,
It needs to be defrosted."
"You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now.
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending,
You'd think the world was ending right now."
"Well maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee,
And never ever watch the ten o'clock news,
Maybe you should kiss someone nice,
Or lick a rock,
Or both."
"Maybe you should cut your own hair
'Cause that can be so funny
It doesn't cost any money
And it always grows back
Hair grows even after you're dead"
"And people are just people,
They shouldn't make you nervous.
The world is everlasting,
It's coming and it's going.
If you don't toss your plastic,
The streets won't be bombastic.
And if you kiss somebody,
Then both of you'll get practice."
"The world is everlasting
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
Put dirtballs in your pocket,
And take off both your shoes.
'Cause people are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you.
People are just people,
People are just people,
People are just people like you."
The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
The world is everlasting
It's coming and it's going
It's coming and it's going
Some stories manifest themselves in one's head in some weird ways.
Just five days agoI woke up at 5:17 with the word 'pall-bearer' at the front of my brain. Then the first sentance came, clear, and crisp. But I didn't know what to do with it. I hadn't had a proper story shove it way forward and demand with so much eagerness to be written like that before.
And I'm proud to say that's its now completed, and I hope to get it published in the school paper. The main character will turn up sometime later - he had a name, even though its never mentioned in the story - and I hope to compile all of my vignettes and short stories together sometime in the very near future.
So I look in your direction
But you pay me no attention, do you
I know you don't listen to me '
Cause you say you see straight through me, don't you
But on and on, from the moment I wake
'Till the moment I sleep
I'll be there by your side
Just you try and stop me
I'll be waiting in line
Just to see if you care
Did you want me to change
Well I changed for good
And I want you to know
That you'll always get your way
I wanted to say
Don't you shiver
Shiver
Sing it loud and clear
I'll always be waiting for you
So you know how much I need you
But you never even see me, do you
And is this my final chance of getting you
But on and on, from the moment I wake '
Till the moment I sleep
I'll be there by your side
Just you try and stop me
I'll be waiting in line
Just to see if you care
if you care
Did you want me to change
Well I changed for good
And I want you to know
That you'll always get your way
And I wanted to say
Don't you shiver
Don't you shiver
Sing it loud and clear
I'll always be waiting for you
Yeah, I'll always be waiting for you
Yeah, I'll always be waiting for you
Yeah, I'll always be waiting for you
For you
I will always be waiting
And it's you I see
But you don't see me
And it's you I hear
So loud and so clear
I sing it loud and clear
And I'll always be waiting for you
So I look in your direction
But you pay me no attention
And you know how much I need you
But you never even see me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtjGgD9bMsM
click the link, watch the video, and laugh. It's great. And quite true.
It has now been decreed that it is no longer "Valentine's Day" but rather "Singles Awareness Day". And its acronym is SAD. Get it?
Clever, yes?
yes.
Now I need to find some chocolate.
with love,
Melle Finchley
Dancing, twirling – then in intervals standing straight hands jammed in pockets – hair flying, heart beating, feet and calves aching joyously –
all that I needed and wanted, right here at school with many strangers!
The group went about in circles, selecting partners, moving, throbbing, sighing, now violent, now flirtatious. I reveled awkwardly in it, myself not used to dancing but loving it all the same. Oh to get real group of people, and dance with that special someone –
oh la la!
J’ai reve de la!
http://finchsnest.blogspot.com/2007/02/ive-lost-my-place.html
Life's looking up - I'm not gonna fail
Doo-da, Doo-da
GOT MY LISCENE IN THE MAIL
Oh Doo-da day!
Honey lovin you is the greatest thing
I get to be myself and I get to sing
I get to play at being irresponsible
I come home late at night and I love your soul
I never forget you in my prayers
I never have a bad thing to report
You're my picture on the wall
You're my vision in the hall
You're the one I'm talking to
When I get in from my work
You are my girl, and you don't even know it
I am livin out the life of a poet
I am the jester in the ancient court
You're the funny little frog in my throat
My eye sight's fading, my hearing's dim
I can't get insured for the state I'm in
I'm a danger to myself
I've been starting fights
At the party at the club on a Saturday night
But I don't get disapproving from my girl
She gets the all highlights wrapped in pearls
You're my picture on the wall
You're my vision in the hall
You're the one I'm talking to
When I get in from my work
You are my girl, and you don't even know it
I am livin out the life of a poet
I am the jester in the ancient court
You're the funny little frog in my throat
I had a conversation with you at night
It's a little one sided but that's allright
I tell you in the kitchen about my day
You sit on the bed in the dark changing places
With the ghost that was there before you came
You've come to save my life again
I don't dare to touch your hand
I don't dare to think of you
(In a physical way?)
And I don't know how you smell
You are the cover of my magazine
You're my fashion tip, a living museum
I'd pay to visit you on rainy Sundays
And I'll maybe tell you all about it ...someday
-Belle and Sebastian
I'm either going to be pronunced certifiably insane, or a heap of ashes
before the year is out.
THOU who hast slept all night upon the storm,
Waking renew’d on thy prodigious pinions,
(Burst the wild storm? above it thou ascended’st,
And rested on the sky, thy slave that cradled thee,)
Now a blue point, far, far in heaven floating,
As to the light emerging here on deck I watch thee,
(Myself a speck, a point on the world’s floating vast.)
Far, far at sea,
After the night’s fierce drifts have strewn the shores with wrecks,
With re-appearing day as now so happy and serene,
The rosy and elastic dawn, the flashing sun,
The limpid spread of air cerulean,
Thou also re-appearest.
Thou born to match the gale, (thou art all wings,)
To cope with heaven and earth and sea and hurricane,
Thou ship of air that never furl’st thy sails,
Days, even weeks untired and onward, through spaces, realms gyrating,
At dusk that look’st on Senegal, at morn America,
That sport’st amid the lightning-flash and thunder-cloud,
In them, in thy experience, had’st thou my soul,
What joys! what joys were thine!
-267. To the Man-of-War-Bird
Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
Leaves of Grass, 1900.
This is one of the best 80's Brit songs....and the lead is adorable, to boot!
came and went without any huge notice. and I am terribly grouchy for no apparent reason.
I just recieved an amazing package, and before I even begin replying on paper, I just want to say, thanks and YOU ARE AWESOME.
sooo....guess who now has their driver's liscense?
dat's right.
there's a new menace on the road....
a menace, of Me!
I just took a drive by myself. And then I came back, and just me and my sister drove around. We got lost in our own neighborhood...that was pretty funny....but I recognized a house that was connected to a street that would take us back home. Yay for M's amazing compass skills...
a tired grin, eyes shifting across the pattern in the white tiles. symmetry was so pleasing. always had been. feet, dark shoes across the white floor. black. stark. beautiful. a breath. she rubbed her shoulder a little unconsciously, thinking. always thinking these days. always music playing somewhere. she looked up from the floor as she walked to face the oncoming tide of students. now pretending to be a ship, shouldering past a current. i have sails. i smell the sea. yes music. the roar of water. a long draw of air. perfect. imagined wings swept by her. the grin faded to a half-crescent hidden smile.
then.
a form in her line of vision. her eyes snapped up as though magnetically. thought whisped away. and there he stood. leaning nonchalantly against a white wall. black hair. clear eyes. a glance in her direction. white fingers of ice stole around her heart and turned her mouth to dust. but regaining her composure she did not allow herself to dwell on the emotion. she chose to ignore the look. he revealed nothing in that split-second of communication. and, she hoped, neither did she. red flashes in her brain as she walked by. ignore it all. pass it all by. the red dimmed. green lushness out the window. green lushness soon to die, enclosed by the grey teeth of concrete and construction. a breath. a sigh. she rubbed her shoulder, all down her arm ending with her fingers. and back she went to looking at those beautiful white tiles, thinking. music blared within her own ears. music of her own invention.
she spread her sails once more and thought of him.
