I guess most kids are rocked or put to sleep at night by a story or a classic lullaby, but when I think of my childhood bedtimes, I remember hearing Edelweiss. This song is most known from the musical classic 'Sound of Music', and was actually the last song that Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote together. The Sound of Music was a huge hit, and it really hit home on my mother's side of the family as her mother and grandmother were born in Austria (where the movie takes place). I can remember watching that movie several times growing up, and nearly every time Captain Von Trapp would sit and strum his guitar and sing this to his children, my mom would tear up. He reminded her a lot of her father, who had died when she was sixteen...my grandfather, a native Italian, was also a man with a houseful of kids, a man in love with an Austrian woman, and a man who loved to make music and sing. I think such a strong memory of her father is the reason I was danced around the room as she sang this so many nights in the past.
Every time I hear the song Edelweiss, even now that I'm an adult when I re-watch the movie, I think of being a little kid, being held in my mom's arms. I remember the way her dark hair would feel, tickling my forehead, and the way her heart would sound underneath my ear as we semi-waltzed around my bedroom. I can remember how she would smell those nights, a strange combination of coffee and Pond's cold cream. And I can remember the words vibrating in her throat as I pressed my hand to it.
Edelweiss, edelweiss
Every morning you greet me
Small and white, clear and bright
You look happy to meet me
Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever
Edelweiss, edelweiss
God bless my homeland forever.
I think that will always be a song that makes me close my eyes for a moment, and remember being a little girl in the arms of my mother, who I thought then (and still do) was the best part of the world.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Anthem
As frightening as the world in Anthem was, it's hard for me to envision that happening any time soon. Maybe a hundred years from now I could see it, but not in my lifetime. Anthem was a world that spat on individuality- not like a communist, or socialist society spits on it, but more completely. In Anthem, people were trained (or brainwashed) into ignoring any personal or possessive thoughts...the word 'I' or 'me' had completely disappeared from the language. People were not allowed to read unless the government had designated them a Scholar. People could not choose their own jobs, no matter how much they loved something. And try as I might, I just can't imagine the people of the world ever allowing things to go that far. We might allow our government to gain more and more control of us as the years pass, but when it comes to removing all traces of individuality and basic choice, I like to think people will stand their ground.
That's the main reason I think the world we saw in V for Vendetta is much more likely to come to pass. Though the government in that world had such control over its citizens, it had not gotten to the point where every bit of individuality was eradicated. This might be blind hope for our future, but I like to think we haven't completely lost our spines, that some bit of our forefather's courage and conviction still flows in our blood. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe our future is dark either way.
But I still have hope.
That's the main reason I think the world we saw in V for Vendetta is much more likely to come to pass. Though the government in that world had such control over its citizens, it had not gotten to the point where every bit of individuality was eradicated. This might be blind hope for our future, but I like to think we haven't completely lost our spines, that some bit of our forefather's courage and conviction still flows in our blood. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe our future is dark either way.
But I still have hope.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
V for Vendetta
I think one of the reasons I enjoyed the movie V for Vendetta is because though it might be fiction, there are rings of truth to it. Maybe I have an overactive imagination, or maybe I'm just a tad bit paranoid/cynical, but I can see our government getting to the point of total control and censorship- "for our own good." Some people laugh whenever I make a comment about our government slowly becoming that way, but we've already allowed them to have much more power than they had just fifty years ago. Fifty years from now...well, who can say how much power they will have then?
I read an article not long ago called "The Cult of the Presidency", and it kinda freaked me out a little. It was all about the original purpose of a president and a checks and balances government, and how that has slowly eroded. The author felt that since the early 1900's (the Progressive Era) we've slowly handed the reins of control to the president, trusting in him blindly. There have been setbacks of course, such as during the Vietnam War, but for the most part we do expect our President to be our sublime protector, our nurturer, our provider, our superhero. Just like people wanting President-elect Obama to have total control of Congress (or his party anyway)- why in the world does that seem like a good thing? No political party should have full control of the White House, Senate, and House. That's just asking for trouble.
If people don't pull their heads out of the sand and realize that there is such thing as a government with too much lee way, than we could very easily be headed for the world in V for Vendetta. Maybe not tomorrow, or next year, but on day. And what's really scary is that nobody seems to care.
I read an article not long ago called "The Cult of the Presidency", and it kinda freaked me out a little. It was all about the original purpose of a president and a checks and balances government, and how that has slowly eroded. The author felt that since the early 1900's (the Progressive Era) we've slowly handed the reins of control to the president, trusting in him blindly. There have been setbacks of course, such as during the Vietnam War, but for the most part we do expect our President to be our sublime protector, our nurturer, our provider, our superhero. Just like people wanting President-elect Obama to have total control of Congress (or his party anyway)- why in the world does that seem like a good thing? No political party should have full control of the White House, Senate, and House. That's just asking for trouble.
If people don't pull their heads out of the sand and realize that there is such thing as a government with too much lee way, than we could very easily be headed for the world in V for Vendetta. Maybe not tomorrow, or next year, but on day. And what's really scary is that nobody seems to care.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Attacking The Different
It seems like it's a part of human nature, that need to attack those that are different. We've all read about it in history books (the Holocaust, slavery, Civil Rights, suffrage movement, etc), and we've all seen it first hand...especially in school as children. People seem to instinctively close ranks, and attack the ones that are the slightest bit different. But why do we do that? What makes us lose sight of our compassion and heart, and torture those that simply aren't the same?
I think part of it is fear. The human race tends to be afraid of the unknown. We prefer to believe that because someone is different, that they are a threat. When people are scared, even subconsciously, we do one of two things...we run like hell, or we fight. We lash out at those that don't fit into our boxes, making them miserable until they give up and leave, or lose their individuality and join us.
I think in school children and teenagers, it stems from low self-esteem than fear. Why else would someone want to belittle another? I think it's because something is missing in that person, and the only way they gain satisfaction in themselves is to believe they are better than at least one other person.
For some, it's because they're simply mean. Not mean in the kick a dog, ignore tears type way, but as in a piece of their very soul is just mean and ugly, and enjoys inflicting pain on others. Perhaps this goes back to the need for power, the need to piss on the fire hydrant and mark their territory. Some people are just born like that, finding pleasure in causing others misery.
I don't think there's any one reason we persecute the different, but several reasons that are spread out among people. Not everyone's motives are the same, even if their actions and results are. In V for Vendetta, I think the people that got it the worst from the government were the ones that were capable of rocking the boat. They didn't want to have people that spoke their mind, and questioned authority, and fought for what they believed in. That went against the government's plan, and made those people a threat that had to be either beaten into submission, or disposed of forever.
All it takes, though, is one person to stand up against these people. Even if that one person does not succeed, even if they are silenced forever, their message will still have been heard, the torch passed. I truly believe that one person can change the world...whether it's the world in general, or another's reality. Take notice of those that attack the different, and stand up for them when they cannot. It's the only way this ridiculous habit of attacking people that don't fit the mold will ever stop.
I think part of it is fear. The human race tends to be afraid of the unknown. We prefer to believe that because someone is different, that they are a threat. When people are scared, even subconsciously, we do one of two things...we run like hell, or we fight. We lash out at those that don't fit into our boxes, making them miserable until they give up and leave, or lose their individuality and join us.
I think in school children and teenagers, it stems from low self-esteem than fear. Why else would someone want to belittle another? I think it's because something is missing in that person, and the only way they gain satisfaction in themselves is to believe they are better than at least one other person.
For some, it's because they're simply mean. Not mean in the kick a dog, ignore tears type way, but as in a piece of their very soul is just mean and ugly, and enjoys inflicting pain on others. Perhaps this goes back to the need for power, the need to piss on the fire hydrant and mark their territory. Some people are just born like that, finding pleasure in causing others misery.
I don't think there's any one reason we persecute the different, but several reasons that are spread out among people. Not everyone's motives are the same, even if their actions and results are. In V for Vendetta, I think the people that got it the worst from the government were the ones that were capable of rocking the boat. They didn't want to have people that spoke their mind, and questioned authority, and fought for what they believed in. That went against the government's plan, and made those people a threat that had to be either beaten into submission, or disposed of forever.
All it takes, though, is one person to stand up against these people. Even if that one person does not succeed, even if they are silenced forever, their message will still have been heard, the torch passed. I truly believe that one person can change the world...whether it's the world in general, or another's reality. Take notice of those that attack the different, and stand up for them when they cannot. It's the only way this ridiculous habit of attacking people that don't fit the mold will ever stop.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Turning the Page
If tomorrow our world simply fell apart, and America no longer existed in the way it does today, I would hope I could jump in with both feet, and do something to help us get on track. There are so many facets of our society that need improvement, enough that I sometimes fantasize about another revolution. Somewhere along the path, our country has lost sight of its purpose, and of what is truly special about our way of life. We no longer acknowledge that we (the people) are the driving force of the nation. Instead we have become accustomed to letting our government take care of us...we're like domesticated animals. We no longer understand the concept of self-sufficiency.
I would hope I could have my fingers in all sorts of pies if this nation ever crumbles, but more than anything I would want to be involved in restructuring our constitution, and the way our government worked. Four years as president? Nope, not anymore, Jack...you get two years, and then there's another vote between the same two candidates. Screw suffering through four years of incompetence. And no more voting for the lesser of two evils. Give us two solidly good candidates, or the election will be postponed until you do. Welfare would have a brand new face...you can't work because you're disabled in some way? Fine, we'll give you a hand. You're not working because you're a lazy ass and know that we'll step in to bail you out? Nope...you'll receive some sort of training and get a job, otherwise you don't get a dime.
There would be no more whining about prayer in school, or our nation's motto. America was founded on the idea of religious freedom, and that means for EVERYONE, not just atheists. You don't want to pray in school? That's fine because you don't have to, but you're not going to strip away the rights of others to pray. Our penal system would get a major overhaul...child molesters automatically get death, and your executioner is the child's parents or loved ones. You're a first time, petty criminal...you go to prison, but you take a technical course of some kind, and are kept away from the real animals. No sense in taking a confused kid and turning them into a career criminal. You get a death sentence...no more waiting two decades before you get the shot. You got a year, bud, to get all your appeals in, and then you go to your maker or the devil, whichever one wants you. Gangs would have to go away, and urban cops would have to man up and go after them straight up. Take them down, or take them out, but get that trash off of our streets.
Those are just a few of the things I would hope to help with once our nation goes down the toilet, and there's so much more that needs to be done. Americans need to remember the sacrifices that their ancestors made to give us such freedom...freedoms that we are slowly pissing away without even realizing it. We need to find our courage, and our voice, and retake our nation once and for all.
I would hope I could have my fingers in all sorts of pies if this nation ever crumbles, but more than anything I would want to be involved in restructuring our constitution, and the way our government worked. Four years as president? Nope, not anymore, Jack...you get two years, and then there's another vote between the same two candidates. Screw suffering through four years of incompetence. And no more voting for the lesser of two evils. Give us two solidly good candidates, or the election will be postponed until you do. Welfare would have a brand new face...you can't work because you're disabled in some way? Fine, we'll give you a hand. You're not working because you're a lazy ass and know that we'll step in to bail you out? Nope...you'll receive some sort of training and get a job, otherwise you don't get a dime.
There would be no more whining about prayer in school, or our nation's motto. America was founded on the idea of religious freedom, and that means for EVERYONE, not just atheists. You don't want to pray in school? That's fine because you don't have to, but you're not going to strip away the rights of others to pray. Our penal system would get a major overhaul...child molesters automatically get death, and your executioner is the child's parents or loved ones. You're a first time, petty criminal...you go to prison, but you take a technical course of some kind, and are kept away from the real animals. No sense in taking a confused kid and turning them into a career criminal. You get a death sentence...no more waiting two decades before you get the shot. You got a year, bud, to get all your appeals in, and then you go to your maker or the devil, whichever one wants you. Gangs would have to go away, and urban cops would have to man up and go after them straight up. Take them down, or take them out, but get that trash off of our streets.
Those are just a few of the things I would hope to help with once our nation goes down the toilet, and there's so much more that needs to be done. Americans need to remember the sacrifices that their ancestors made to give us such freedom...freedoms that we are slowly pissing away without even realizing it. We need to find our courage, and our voice, and retake our nation once and for all.
Standing Out
I loved high school for the most part...loved the classes, my teachers, the fun I had with my friends, but there was one thing that I absolutely hated: the way people would do something they hated just so they could blend in. To me, there are few things more important in life than staying true to yourself. I was always taught that at the end of the day, I would be the one having to live with myself, and the choices I had made. My dad was a big believer in the idea that it's better to have few good friends who really knew you than it was to have a lot of people like you for the person they thought you were. There's no sense in pretending to be something you're not because in the end...well, you have to reveal who you really are or you'll lose a piece of your soul.
I do think it's possible to retain your individuality and still work well with others in society, although it's definitely more difficult than if you simply conform to other's idea of you. People seem to have an innate fear of anything that's different...even if it's a minor difference. It would be so much simpler to let go of your beliefs and desires, and simply give in to other people's expectations. But if I have learned anything yet it is this: you'll be much happier doing what you want than if you keep your mouth shut and walk the line. Nobody else in the world is exactly the same as me...that's something I definitely believe. If I were to change who I am, there's no one else to take my place and fill that void. Under no circumstances should someone simply let go of who they are, and embrace what people want them to be just to keep the peace. It's not peace...it's a cowardly surrendering of everything that matters.
There comes a time in everyone's life when you are presented with a choice...your own split path in the woods. As Frost said...you can do what everyone else is doing, or you can find your courage, and go your own way, and dare anyone to stop you. There is no sense in conforming, in pretending you are something you are not. Without your individuality, you're just a waste of oxygen and resources because you bring nothing new to the table, just the same tired points of view. If our founding fathers would have conformed and simply told Britain 'yes sir', where would any of us be today? Sometimes you have to stand up, pull up your britches, and spit in the face of conformity. And those are the times when you will truly feel alive.
I do think it's possible to retain your individuality and still work well with others in society, although it's definitely more difficult than if you simply conform to other's idea of you. People seem to have an innate fear of anything that's different...even if it's a minor difference. It would be so much simpler to let go of your beliefs and desires, and simply give in to other people's expectations. But if I have learned anything yet it is this: you'll be much happier doing what you want than if you keep your mouth shut and walk the line. Nobody else in the world is exactly the same as me...that's something I definitely believe. If I were to change who I am, there's no one else to take my place and fill that void. Under no circumstances should someone simply let go of who they are, and embrace what people want them to be just to keep the peace. It's not peace...it's a cowardly surrendering of everything that matters.
There comes a time in everyone's life when you are presented with a choice...your own split path in the woods. As Frost said...you can do what everyone else is doing, or you can find your courage, and go your own way, and dare anyone to stop you. There is no sense in conforming, in pretending you are something you are not. Without your individuality, you're just a waste of oxygen and resources because you bring nothing new to the table, just the same tired points of view. If our founding fathers would have conformed and simply told Britain 'yes sir', where would any of us be today? Sometimes you have to stand up, pull up your britches, and spit in the face of conformity. And those are the times when you will truly feel alive.
Monday, October 13, 2008
So excited!
I went to the movies the other weekend with my guy, and nearly tore the skin off of his arm when halfway through the previews I heard a skinny white girl say 'Rosaleen', and a handsome black man shout out 'June Boatwright'. He looked at me a little crazy, probably wondering why I was trying to scar him while staring at the movie screen and squealing like a little girl. After all...nobody else in the theater had that reaction. But that just means that I'm the only one in there fortunate enough to have read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Those poor strangers just don't know what they're missing!
I can remember getting my required reading list the summer before my senior year in high school, at a meeting of our senior AP English class. It was the first year my school offered AP English, and they wanted to make sure we all knew what we were getting into. There were just three books on my list, prompting me to think I was in for an easy summer...three books in two months? Nothing to it. There was Pygmalion, which I had already read, Things Fall Apart, which sounded good to me, and The Secret Life of Bees. I remember looking at it and thinking 'What kind of stupid ass title is that?' One of these days I'm going to learn that the whole thing about not judging a book by its cover is true...I ended up LOVING this book.
I don't know if it was the writing, which was so casual and informal and personal, or if it was the characters, who were so realistic to me that I felt like I really knew them. Maybe it was the plot, which was so intricate and yet at the same time so broad, or maybe it was the theme of universal motherhood and love. Or maybe it was the way I read it...that first time that summer, where I thought it was just great, and in more detail that second semester. We broke it down in chapters and really analyzed each one...the excerpts at the beginning of each chapter, and how they were central to not only that chapter, but the entire book. We studied world events that were happening during that time, studied the Civil Rights movement. We looked at suicide, at the Jerusalem Wailing Wall, at Mai-Tai cocktails, and interracial relationships. We studied this book from every angle, and each angle I saw, the more I fell in love with the book.
The movie comes out in a couple of weeks, and I just hope it can live up to the original novel. I doubt it, though, as so few movies do (I'm looking at you Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!) It looked cute, though, and the scenes were easily recognizable from the book. Queen Latifah should make an excellent August, and now that I think about it...who else could play Lily but Dakota Fanning (who admittedly, does give me the creeps sometimes). I can't picture Jennifer Hudson as Rosaleen, but maybe she'll make the character hers. As soon as my sister gets back from New York at the end of the month, I'm dragging her and my mom to see this movie with me. It's a movie that mothers and daughters SHOULD watch together, as it's all about love between women, especially mother and daughter. We've had a rough year, the three of us, and I think a night away from everyone but each other, watching a movie that reminds us how lucky we are is just what we need. This movie, based on a book that I love, couldn't come at a better time for me. I cannot wait to watch Sue Monk Kidd's book come to life with the two women I love most.
I can remember getting my required reading list the summer before my senior year in high school, at a meeting of our senior AP English class. It was the first year my school offered AP English, and they wanted to make sure we all knew what we were getting into. There were just three books on my list, prompting me to think I was in for an easy summer...three books in two months? Nothing to it. There was Pygmalion, which I had already read, Things Fall Apart, which sounded good to me, and The Secret Life of Bees. I remember looking at it and thinking 'What kind of stupid ass title is that?' One of these days I'm going to learn that the whole thing about not judging a book by its cover is true...I ended up LOVING this book.
I don't know if it was the writing, which was so casual and informal and personal, or if it was the characters, who were so realistic to me that I felt like I really knew them. Maybe it was the plot, which was so intricate and yet at the same time so broad, or maybe it was the theme of universal motherhood and love. Or maybe it was the way I read it...that first time that summer, where I thought it was just great, and in more detail that second semester. We broke it down in chapters and really analyzed each one...the excerpts at the beginning of each chapter, and how they were central to not only that chapter, but the entire book. We studied world events that were happening during that time, studied the Civil Rights movement. We looked at suicide, at the Jerusalem Wailing Wall, at Mai-Tai cocktails, and interracial relationships. We studied this book from every angle, and each angle I saw, the more I fell in love with the book.
The movie comes out in a couple of weeks, and I just hope it can live up to the original novel. I doubt it, though, as so few movies do (I'm looking at you Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!) It looked cute, though, and the scenes were easily recognizable from the book. Queen Latifah should make an excellent August, and now that I think about it...who else could play Lily but Dakota Fanning (who admittedly, does give me the creeps sometimes). I can't picture Jennifer Hudson as Rosaleen, but maybe she'll make the character hers. As soon as my sister gets back from New York at the end of the month, I'm dragging her and my mom to see this movie with me. It's a movie that mothers and daughters SHOULD watch together, as it's all about love between women, especially mother and daughter. We've had a rough year, the three of us, and I think a night away from everyone but each other, watching a movie that reminds us how lucky we are is just what we need. This movie, based on a book that I love, couldn't come at a better time for me. I cannot wait to watch Sue Monk Kidd's book come to life with the two women I love most.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Family
Like everything else in our life, having a family comes with great expectations, and great responsibility. There are people that belong to you, people that hold your life and thoughts and opinions very dear. You can't be callous with them, and you can't be blase about how you interact with them. Whether given to you at birth or chosen by you during the span of your life, these people are your responsibility, so you have some to them as well:
Be truthful...not in the case of how's my hair look, or crap like that, but the big stuff. No matter how much it might hurt or seem to damage your relationship, it's best in the long run.
Be considerate...pay attention to them, and make an effort to be what they need. Ask questions, call often, visit as much as possible. Go to lunch with them, bring them flowers when their week is bad...show you love them rather than tell them.
Laughter...you cannot forget to make them laugh. You want to bring a smile to those that you love, especially when the days are tough and long. Go out of your way to make them smile, even if you have to make an ass of yourself to do it.
Dependable...that's what you have to be with family. You get a call at two a.m. from your sister because she and her husband had a fight? Give yourself a slap, pretend you don't have that eight o'clock final, and talk. Even if it takes hours or is a huge inconvenience...you be there for your family.
Worthiness....you have to be a good family member to deserve a good one. You can't treat them like shit and hope they continue to love you and treat you like they do. They might for a while, but patience runs out eventually, and you can find yourself alone.
And love...that's the biggest responsibility you have toward your family. You love them through the good and the bad, the sick and the healthy, the sunshine and the rain. You love them every minute of everyday, and you never, EVER forget to let them know that you love them. You can show it in actions, but never underestimate the power of the simple words. Hearing that can make so much else seem insignificant.
That's what you do for your family...you love them, and you show them, and you do your damnedest not to disappoint them. And when you do, because at some point you will, you do everything you can to make up for it, and let them know that through it all...you still love them.
That's the most important thing about family, after all. Unconditional, unswerving love.
Be truthful...not in the case of how's my hair look, or crap like that, but the big stuff. No matter how much it might hurt or seem to damage your relationship, it's best in the long run.
Be considerate...pay attention to them, and make an effort to be what they need. Ask questions, call often, visit as much as possible. Go to lunch with them, bring them flowers when their week is bad...show you love them rather than tell them.
Laughter...you cannot forget to make them laugh. You want to bring a smile to those that you love, especially when the days are tough and long. Go out of your way to make them smile, even if you have to make an ass of yourself to do it.
Dependable...that's what you have to be with family. You get a call at two a.m. from your sister because she and her husband had a fight? Give yourself a slap, pretend you don't have that eight o'clock final, and talk. Even if it takes hours or is a huge inconvenience...you be there for your family.
Worthiness....you have to be a good family member to deserve a good one. You can't treat them like shit and hope they continue to love you and treat you like they do. They might for a while, but patience runs out eventually, and you can find yourself alone.
And love...that's the biggest responsibility you have toward your family. You love them through the good and the bad, the sick and the healthy, the sunshine and the rain. You love them every minute of everyday, and you never, EVER forget to let them know that you love them. You can show it in actions, but never underestimate the power of the simple words. Hearing that can make so much else seem insignificant.
That's what you do for your family...you love them, and you show them, and you do your damnedest not to disappoint them. And when you do, because at some point you will, you do everything you can to make up for it, and let them know that through it all...you still love them.
That's the most important thing about family, after all. Unconditional, unswerving love.
Make Us or Break Us
Family. That crazy, horrible, wonderful thing that shapes the adults we become. I used to think I knew what family was...they were the people that you were born to and almost HAD to love you. Having a family meant that no matter what happened in life, no matter how bad things seemed, or how much you screwed up, you always had someone to turn to, someone who was on your side. Family...a parent or two (maybe more), siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents. That group of people who knew all your bad and all your good and still chose to love you anyway. A set of people who maybe share your smile, or your coloring, or your temperament, people you can look at and think 'yep, I belong with them'.
The more years that pass, the more I realize that's not all family is. You don't have to share genetics or blood with them, and you don't have to know them your entire life. Now I think of family differently. They're the people you collect throughout life, the people who connect with and share yourself with by choice. They're the ones who you click with almost instantly, the ones you build a relationship with because you want to, and because you feel compelled to get to know them better.
I have a friend that I met when we were both in sixth grade, and we had a connection pretty much from the moment we introuduced ourselves. She has became my sister since then, and is as much my family as the people who took me home from the hospital. Her sons are my nephews. My parents are her parents. Her cousin is my cousin. My family reunion is always open to her each May. We are not related by blood or birth, but she is my family. We are so closesly intertwined now that no matter what happens...no matter how mad she makes me, or how disappointed I get in her, or how much I want to walk away from her, I cannot. And I think that's what family really is to me. They're the people that you love so much that you can't ever abandon them completely, no matter how much they screw you over or break your heart.
Family's not about choice. You can't have family then not have family because if they're really family, then they are a part of you. A part of your heart, a part of your soul, a part of everything you hold dear. I've had family members that have absolutely ripped out my heart and crushed it with their feet, then came back and picked it up and threw it against a wall a few times for good measure. No matter how much I've cried, or cursed them, or tried to disengage from them...I find I cannot do it. I don't know how to give up on someone I love, how not to move on and hope that one day things can be better.
That's what my childhood has taught me, what my life has taught me about the meaning of family. There's no suck it up and move on, no toss in the towel and find someone to take their place. Family is irreplaceable. You can add new people to the picture, people who can love you and give things that the ones you have cannot, but you can't ever fully cut someone out of your heart. I've seen some horrible things in my short life, most of it occuring when I was a child and most impressionable, and the thing I've taken away is that you always go back to your family, no matter what they do (with the exception of child molestors or bastards like that...thankfully, we've had none). I've seen marriages fall apart, kids disappointing parents, parents breaking the hearts of their children, and at the end of the road none of it matters. If you can't fight your ass off to make it work, then it wasn't love in the first place. Family will make you and family will damn sure break you.
But they're usually there to put the pieces back together.
The more years that pass, the more I realize that's not all family is. You don't have to share genetics or blood with them, and you don't have to know them your entire life. Now I think of family differently. They're the people you collect throughout life, the people who connect with and share yourself with by choice. They're the ones who you click with almost instantly, the ones you build a relationship with because you want to, and because you feel compelled to get to know them better.
I have a friend that I met when we were both in sixth grade, and we had a connection pretty much from the moment we introuduced ourselves. She has became my sister since then, and is as much my family as the people who took me home from the hospital. Her sons are my nephews. My parents are her parents. Her cousin is my cousin. My family reunion is always open to her each May. We are not related by blood or birth, but she is my family. We are so closesly intertwined now that no matter what happens...no matter how mad she makes me, or how disappointed I get in her, or how much I want to walk away from her, I cannot. And I think that's what family really is to me. They're the people that you love so much that you can't ever abandon them completely, no matter how much they screw you over or break your heart.
Family's not about choice. You can't have family then not have family because if they're really family, then they are a part of you. A part of your heart, a part of your soul, a part of everything you hold dear. I've had family members that have absolutely ripped out my heart and crushed it with their feet, then came back and picked it up and threw it against a wall a few times for good measure. No matter how much I've cried, or cursed them, or tried to disengage from them...I find I cannot do it. I don't know how to give up on someone I love, how not to move on and hope that one day things can be better.
That's what my childhood has taught me, what my life has taught me about the meaning of family. There's no suck it up and move on, no toss in the towel and find someone to take their place. Family is irreplaceable. You can add new people to the picture, people who can love you and give things that the ones you have cannot, but you can't ever fully cut someone out of your heart. I've seen some horrible things in my short life, most of it occuring when I was a child and most impressionable, and the thing I've taken away is that you always go back to your family, no matter what they do (with the exception of child molestors or bastards like that...thankfully, we've had none). I've seen marriages fall apart, kids disappointing parents, parents breaking the hearts of their children, and at the end of the road none of it matters. If you can't fight your ass off to make it work, then it wasn't love in the first place. Family will make you and family will damn sure break you.
But they're usually there to put the pieces back together.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
"I won't tolerate rudeness from a man."--W.F. Call
I couldn't even come close to naming all the books I have read throughout my life...from silly kid's books to truly epic works, I'll read anything once. I fall in love with books easily, with their tone, with their setting, and especially with their characters. Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry is a book I go back to time and time again, even though it's extremely long and I'm not a big fan of Westerns. I go back to re-read it because I absolutely adore Captain Woodrow F. Call.
Most people who have read the book or seen the movie are huge fans of Gus, and with good reason...he's a jovial, sassy old man with a generous heart and a quick temper. It's hard not to like Gus, and while I do think he's great, I've always been more drawn to the quiet, fiesty Call. Call's not as easy to figure out...he's an enigma, even to the people who have known him for decades. He's bad at expressing any emotion other than impatience and fury, goes through life raising his son without acknowledging their relation, and is hard-headed to a fault. But he's a man of extreme loyalty and honor, a man of character. Whenever I hear the phrase 'character is what you do when nobody is around', I think of Call. He's not a man who does the wrong thing because it's easier. He's not a man who betrays his word. He is the epitome of the word right.
One of my favorite parts of the book is after Gus dies, and Call is preparing to take his body all the way back to Texas even though they had just arrived in Montana after a long, grueling trip. People thought he was crazy, even asking him why he would go so far out of his way to keep a promise he made to a dead man. To Call, though, there was nothing else to do. Gus was his best friend, and he gave him his word, and to him, that was all there was to it.
I also can read another part over and over: when Call absolutely loses his temper and beats a man half to death in the street. I realize that sounds a little morbid, but he had a good reason. The Army scout he went after had already hurt two of his men, and turned a horse whip on Call's son. The scout was a rude, arrogant man, and Call completely flipped out on him, beating him to a bloody pulp in front of an entire town. When he came to his senses, he looked at everyone and said, "I won't tolerate rudeness from a man," then just got on his horse and rode off.
For Call, there was right and there was wrong, and there was no gray area in between. His friendship with Gus, who would spend days lazing around, drinking whiskey, made him all the more striking to me. They were complete opposites, and yet they spent decades of their lives together, and loved each other deeply. Gus's personality emphasized Call's, and made me love him all the more.
Most people who have read the book or seen the movie are huge fans of Gus, and with good reason...he's a jovial, sassy old man with a generous heart and a quick temper. It's hard not to like Gus, and while I do think he's great, I've always been more drawn to the quiet, fiesty Call. Call's not as easy to figure out...he's an enigma, even to the people who have known him for decades. He's bad at expressing any emotion other than impatience and fury, goes through life raising his son without acknowledging their relation, and is hard-headed to a fault. But he's a man of extreme loyalty and honor, a man of character. Whenever I hear the phrase 'character is what you do when nobody is around', I think of Call. He's not a man who does the wrong thing because it's easier. He's not a man who betrays his word. He is the epitome of the word right.
One of my favorite parts of the book is after Gus dies, and Call is preparing to take his body all the way back to Texas even though they had just arrived in Montana after a long, grueling trip. People thought he was crazy, even asking him why he would go so far out of his way to keep a promise he made to a dead man. To Call, though, there was nothing else to do. Gus was his best friend, and he gave him his word, and to him, that was all there was to it.
I also can read another part over and over: when Call absolutely loses his temper and beats a man half to death in the street. I realize that sounds a little morbid, but he had a good reason. The Army scout he went after had already hurt two of his men, and turned a horse whip on Call's son. The scout was a rude, arrogant man, and Call completely flipped out on him, beating him to a bloody pulp in front of an entire town. When he came to his senses, he looked at everyone and said, "I won't tolerate rudeness from a man," then just got on his horse and rode off.
For Call, there was right and there was wrong, and there was no gray area in between. His friendship with Gus, who would spend days lazing around, drinking whiskey, made him all the more striking to me. They were complete opposites, and yet they spent decades of their lives together, and loved each other deeply. Gus's personality emphasized Call's, and made me love him all the more.
A Time for Bonding
I was always surrounded by books when I was growing up. While some families would finish the day and crowd around the TV, my family was sprawled throughout the living room with books. The TV would be on, but mainly for background noise and for my oldest brother who was (and still isn't) a reader. My dad, my mom, my sister...they could always be found with a book in hand, and we had shelves filled with them in nearly every room in the house. I can remember being read to from a very young age, by both of my parents, and by my older siblings. I can also remember being four and not being allowed to go outside to play until I had read one book aloud, and wrote my name ten times :)
Oddly enough, though, my favorite memories of reading do not come from those years before school, though I have plenty that I'm fond of. When I think of the reading time that meant the most to me, it's easy to settle on the years of 1998 to 2002, from the time I was eleven to fifteen. My dad went to prison when I was ten, and every Sunday me and my mom would get in the car and drive to wherever he was to go and visit him. During the four and a half years he was gone, he was as close as forty minutes and as far away as three and a half hours. Sometime around the second year of traveling each Sunday, me and my mom settled into the routine of turning off the radio and turning to the Harry Potter books.
We would drive along for hours, sipping on fountain drinks from some convenience store, and she would man the wheel while I read aloud from the series. We'd finish chapters each weekend on those long trips, then put the book aside until the next Sunday. In the course of four years, we finished the first four books, and read some more than once while waiting for the fifth one to come out.
I can remember those trips clearly still...the heat of the seat underneath my legs, the way my throat would grow dry and scratchy. I can remember laughing with my mom, or crying with her in some cases, and discussing the characters and the plot afterwards, wondering what would come next. I suppose that's one of the reasons I never outgrew my love for the Harry Potter series...to me, it's much more than just a fun little book series. It represents the journey me and my mom took together during one of the hardest periods of my life.
I'm no longer a child, but we still sit around and talk about Harry now and again. We have a date the first day each movie is released, to go and see it together then go out and stuff ourselves with pizza. Reading the books gave me and my mom something to bond over, and a way to lock ourselves away in Rowling's fantasy world instead of dwelling on everything we were actually experiencing. I'll always love the Harry Potter books for that reason alone, for giving me and my mom a reason to laugh when our lives were devoid of humor. Reading together really did help us through a tough patch.
Oddly enough, though, my favorite memories of reading do not come from those years before school, though I have plenty that I'm fond of. When I think of the reading time that meant the most to me, it's easy to settle on the years of 1998 to 2002, from the time I was eleven to fifteen. My dad went to prison when I was ten, and every Sunday me and my mom would get in the car and drive to wherever he was to go and visit him. During the four and a half years he was gone, he was as close as forty minutes and as far away as three and a half hours. Sometime around the second year of traveling each Sunday, me and my mom settled into the routine of turning off the radio and turning to the Harry Potter books.
We would drive along for hours, sipping on fountain drinks from some convenience store, and she would man the wheel while I read aloud from the series. We'd finish chapters each weekend on those long trips, then put the book aside until the next Sunday. In the course of four years, we finished the first four books, and read some more than once while waiting for the fifth one to come out.
I can remember those trips clearly still...the heat of the seat underneath my legs, the way my throat would grow dry and scratchy. I can remember laughing with my mom, or crying with her in some cases, and discussing the characters and the plot afterwards, wondering what would come next. I suppose that's one of the reasons I never outgrew my love for the Harry Potter series...to me, it's much more than just a fun little book series. It represents the journey me and my mom took together during one of the hardest periods of my life.
I'm no longer a child, but we still sit around and talk about Harry now and again. We have a date the first day each movie is released, to go and see it together then go out and stuff ourselves with pizza. Reading the books gave me and my mom something to bond over, and a way to lock ourselves away in Rowling's fantasy world instead of dwelling on everything we were actually experiencing. I'll always love the Harry Potter books for that reason alone, for giving me and my mom a reason to laugh when our lives were devoid of humor. Reading together really did help us through a tough patch.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A Passed-Out Beauty
The small city of Madison was your typical college town where everything inside the city limits seemed to revolve around the school. The stores, the apartments, the malls that had sprung up...they were all a direct result of the city's growing population of young people. Each fall, thousands of young adults flooded the city, and made it come alive until they left again in May.
It wasn't long ago, actually, that a very special young woman came to Madison in hopes of earning a degree. Kelsie was the all-American girl with hair like sunlight and eyes the color of a summer sky. She was a beautiful young woman, without a doubt, and made more beautiful by the goodness she had inside her. Kelsie had never met a stranger, and she had never passed a person in need without stopping to help. She smiled constantly, brightening passerby's days without realizing it, all with the power of a simple, friendly smile and a soft greeting. She volunteered at the local children's orphanage, collected food and jackets during the winter to pass out to the needy, and tutored her classmates at the campus student center. Yes, Kelsie was a rare person of beauty that went deeper than her pretty skin.
As it is with all beautiful people, there are others who aspire to see them fall, who hope to make others view them as ugly. And as impossible as it might seem, Kelsie made her enemy on her very first day of school. In all fairness, it wasn't her fault. She had no way of knowing that the young man she asked for directions from was none other than Colt Bradford, star of the school's football team and BMOC. She had no way of knowing that the smile he was giving her was more personal, more real than the smiles he passed out to others. She had no way of knowing that Paige Hunter was watching the talking and the smiles with narrowed eyes, or that Paige had called dibs on Colt as if he were the last piece of cake at a party. And she definitely didn't know that Paige was as ugly inside as she was beautiful outside.
They bumped along well for the first couple of months, these three college students. Paige made it a priority to learn Colt's schedule so that she could approach him at every opportunity. Colt was friendly with her, but he never seeked her out as he did Kelsie. With Kelsie, he would meet her after classes to walk her to the next one, offer to buy her lunch, and give her rides when her sad excuse of a car refused to work for her. They became friends, Kelsie and Colt did, and though she wasn't aware of his growing attachment to her, everyone else saw it clearly, including Paige.
It all came to a head on Halloween, as Kelsie made her way back to her apartment after taking a group of children from the orphanage out for trick-or-treating. This is where Paige saw her, and approached her in the darkness. "Kelsie," she called, jogging up to her. "Hey, wait up!"
"Hi, Paige," Kelsie smiled at her, coming to a stop.
"You're not going home are you?" Paige asked, her biggest smile plastered across her face. "It's not even nine yet!"
"I was going to finish up a paper that's due Monday," Kelsie nodded, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I hate putting things off until the last minute."
"But it's only Friday!" Paige exclaimed. "And it's Halloween, Kelsie! You still have all weekend to do schoolwork. Why don't you come with me tonight? There are a lot of great parties going on, and it would do you good to go out and have some fun."
"I have fun," Kelsie shrugged.
"With what? All I ever see you do is schoolwork and volunteer work," Paige protested. "When was the last time you went to a party, Kelsie? When you went and had fun just for yourself?"
Kelsie grinned, a little ruefully. "It has been a while," she said thoughtfully. "High school, actually, when I went to Prom."
"That was months ago!" Paige said with a laugh, bumping her with her hand in a show of camaraderie. "What do you say? Just one night, huh?"
"Well," Kelsie pondered. "I don't know, Paige."
"Colt's going to be there," Paige forced a grin, watching as Kelsie's eyes brightened. "Wouldn't you like to spend Halloween with him? I know he'd love to see you."
"Okay," Kelsie said finally. "I'll go with you."
Paige's grin put the Halloween masks to shame. "Excellent."
The party Paige led her to was being held in a house just off campus, and could be heard a block away. People were everywhere...spread throughout the yard, on the porches, sitting on cars, and all through the house. Kelsie was taken aback by the noise, by the frenetic movement, but she smiled anyway as they made their way into the house.
"Let me take your jacket," Paige offered. "I'll put them up out of the way. Why don't you go wait over there, and I'll snag us a couple drinks on the way back."
"Oh, I'm not a big drinker," Kelsie said as she slipped her coat off and handed it to Paige.
"No problem," Paige grinned. "I'm sure they have other things around too, for the mixers and such. I'll find you something."
"Thanks," Kelsie smiled. "I appreciate it."
"Oh, it's no problem," Paige laughed. "Be right back."
Paige moved quickly, pausing only to toss the jackets in a small room off the hallway before heading to the kitchen. "Hey everybody," she said as she entered the crowded room.
"Paige!" her friend Ashley cried, throwing her arms around her in a drunken hug. "What took you so long?"
"I ran into Kelsie," Paige explained, grabbing a Dixie cup from the counter. "I talked her into coming with me."
"But you hate Kelsie," Ashley said, puzzled. "And Colt will be here any minute! Why would you want her to tag along?"
"Because I am sick and tired of hearing about how good of a person she is," Paige snapped. "That's all Colt can talk about...how she's different from the other girls, how she's more mature than us. It's like the little bitch has a halo attached to her head, and I'm about to knock it right off of her."
"By bringing her to a party?" Ashley slurred. "I'm not following you, girl."
"Oh, I didn't just bring her to the party," Paige laughed, turning her back on everyone as she filled Kelsie's cup with soda, and pulled a small packet out of her pocket. "I'm going to make sure she has the best time of her life."
When Colt walked into the house, the first people he saw were Kelsie and Paige. He couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face. Paige had told him she would try and get Kelsie to come to the party, and she had definitely kept her word. He was crazy about Kelsie, entranced by her gentleness and kind heart. She was so different from every other girl here at school, who were focused on finding a guy to latch onto, or just having a good time. Kelsie had a good heart, and he had fallen for her the first day when she had asked him for directions to the biology building.
He made his way over to the girls, talking to people as he went, accepting the slaps on the back with a good-natured smile. He was used to being talked to, to being popular, but knew that it was all about football. If he lost the ability to throw the ball tomorrow, ninety percent of his “friends” would vanish. Not Kelsie, though, he thought with a smile. Kelsie liked him for more than just football. “Hey Paige, Kelsie,” he said when he drew up next to them, smiling widely. “How’s it going?”
“Colt!” Kelsie exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and causing him to take a step back in surprise. “I’m so glad you’re finally here!”
Colt supported her with one arm, drawing back to study her with a frown. Her pretty face was flushed, her hair askew, and her eyes were bright and glassy. “Been drinking a little, Kels?” he asked, smiling a little. In a way, it was nice to see her unwind and relax a bit.
“Oh no,” she said slowly, laughing at the idea. “I don’t drink, Colt! Paige got me a Coke, and it must have gone right to my head.” She popped her forehead as she spoke.
“I don’t think so,” he said, shooting Paige a curious look. “You must have grabbed someone else’s glass or something. Here, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go and get you a glass of water, and a nice, cold rag?” Ignoring Paige, he took Kelsie’s hand, and led her over to the couch. “I’ll be right back, okay? You wait here.” Smiling at her one last time, he turned to go to the kitchen.
Paige followed him down the hall, sticking close to his back. “She’s such a liar,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know why she cares if you know that she’s been drinking. I mean, you’re not her dad or her boyfriend even. She’s been tossing them back since she got here, really. She must have done at least seven shots, and she’s had a couple of beers too.”
Colt shot her an unbelieving look as he found a glass and began filling it with ice. “Kelsie’s not much for lying,” he said quietly.
“Well, either she’s lying or I’m lying,” Paige pouted. “Are you calling me a liar, Colt?”
He glanced back at her, covering the ice with water and grabbing a dish rag to dampen it. “No,” he offered diplomatically. “But I can’t imagine Kelsie lying about this, either.”
They left the kitchen the same way they had came, with Paige following close behind, and Colt trying to plow through the people who wanted to stop and talk to him. They finally made it back to the living room and on the couch was Kelsie, sprawled on her back with her head flopped back. This would have been sadly amusing if it wasn’t for the guy leaning over her, laughing with his buddies as he nuzzled her face with his.
Colt flew at him, his eyes swamped with rage. “Get off of her!” he yelled, grabbing him by the shirt collar and sending him flying. “Kelsie?” he squatted beside her, tapping her face with his hand. “Kelsie…sweetheart, wake up.” When there was no movement from her, Colt took the rag and patted her face with it, hoping it would alert her. “Kelsie? C’mon, Kelsie…this is no place to sleep it off.”
“How much did you give her?” he heard whispered behind him, and his head swiveled to see some girl talking to Paige, her eyes on Kelsie in concern. “God, you don’t think you killed her or anything, do you?”
“What did you do?” Colt roared at Paige, jumping up to grab her arm before she could disappear. “You tell me right now what you did to her, or I’m calling the cops.”
“It’s nothing,” Paige whined, trying in vain to shake her arm free. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Then tell me what it was! What did you give her?”
“Just a couple of downers, God,” she pouted. “She’s not so perfect, Colt…she drank it right down, and now look at her. She’s making a fool of herself, and everyone is here to see it.”
“You stupid, jealous bitch,” he spat. “What in the hell is wrong with you, huh? Why would you do that to anyone?” He let her go, shoving her away from him. “You make me sick, Paige.” Without another word, he whirled away from her, headed back to Kelsie. “Kelsie…baby, please wake up. Please.” Raking a hand through his hair, he bowed his head over her, trying to think of what to do. “Ok, we’re going to the hospital.” He slid his arms underneath her prone body, lifting her off the couch with ease. “Move,” he shouted at the people, who hurriedly parted to give him room. Colt squeezed through the crowd, pressing his mouth to her forehead. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered as he stalked towards the door.
“Colt?” Kelsie’s voice was weak and hoarse. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I know, baby, I know,” he said, nodding at someone to get the door. “But I’m here, Kelsie. And I promise I’ll always take care of you.” With a smile for her, he was out the door.
It didn’t take long for the hospital to pump her stomach, getting rid of the pills Paige had slipped her, or to refill her with fluids. And it didn’t take the cops long to understand what happened and get on the road to go find Paige. But it did take Colt a very, very long time to live up to his promise to always be there, though he figured a lifetime ought to do it. So in their way, no matter how unusually it might have started, Colt and Kelsie got the happy ending they deserved, and there was peace throughout Madison again.
It wasn't long ago, actually, that a very special young woman came to Madison in hopes of earning a degree. Kelsie was the all-American girl with hair like sunlight and eyes the color of a summer sky. She was a beautiful young woman, without a doubt, and made more beautiful by the goodness she had inside her. Kelsie had never met a stranger, and she had never passed a person in need without stopping to help. She smiled constantly, brightening passerby's days without realizing it, all with the power of a simple, friendly smile and a soft greeting. She volunteered at the local children's orphanage, collected food and jackets during the winter to pass out to the needy, and tutored her classmates at the campus student center. Yes, Kelsie was a rare person of beauty that went deeper than her pretty skin.
As it is with all beautiful people, there are others who aspire to see them fall, who hope to make others view them as ugly. And as impossible as it might seem, Kelsie made her enemy on her very first day of school. In all fairness, it wasn't her fault. She had no way of knowing that the young man she asked for directions from was none other than Colt Bradford, star of the school's football team and BMOC. She had no way of knowing that the smile he was giving her was more personal, more real than the smiles he passed out to others. She had no way of knowing that Paige Hunter was watching the talking and the smiles with narrowed eyes, or that Paige had called dibs on Colt as if he were the last piece of cake at a party. And she definitely didn't know that Paige was as ugly inside as she was beautiful outside.
They bumped along well for the first couple of months, these three college students. Paige made it a priority to learn Colt's schedule so that she could approach him at every opportunity. Colt was friendly with her, but he never seeked her out as he did Kelsie. With Kelsie, he would meet her after classes to walk her to the next one, offer to buy her lunch, and give her rides when her sad excuse of a car refused to work for her. They became friends, Kelsie and Colt did, and though she wasn't aware of his growing attachment to her, everyone else saw it clearly, including Paige.
It all came to a head on Halloween, as Kelsie made her way back to her apartment after taking a group of children from the orphanage out for trick-or-treating. This is where Paige saw her, and approached her in the darkness. "Kelsie," she called, jogging up to her. "Hey, wait up!"
"Hi, Paige," Kelsie smiled at her, coming to a stop.
"You're not going home are you?" Paige asked, her biggest smile plastered across her face. "It's not even nine yet!"
"I was going to finish up a paper that's due Monday," Kelsie nodded, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I hate putting things off until the last minute."
"But it's only Friday!" Paige exclaimed. "And it's Halloween, Kelsie! You still have all weekend to do schoolwork. Why don't you come with me tonight? There are a lot of great parties going on, and it would do you good to go out and have some fun."
"I have fun," Kelsie shrugged.
"With what? All I ever see you do is schoolwork and volunteer work," Paige protested. "When was the last time you went to a party, Kelsie? When you went and had fun just for yourself?"
Kelsie grinned, a little ruefully. "It has been a while," she said thoughtfully. "High school, actually, when I went to Prom."
"That was months ago!" Paige said with a laugh, bumping her with her hand in a show of camaraderie. "What do you say? Just one night, huh?"
"Well," Kelsie pondered. "I don't know, Paige."
"Colt's going to be there," Paige forced a grin, watching as Kelsie's eyes brightened. "Wouldn't you like to spend Halloween with him? I know he'd love to see you."
"Okay," Kelsie said finally. "I'll go with you."
Paige's grin put the Halloween masks to shame. "Excellent."
The party Paige led her to was being held in a house just off campus, and could be heard a block away. People were everywhere...spread throughout the yard, on the porches, sitting on cars, and all through the house. Kelsie was taken aback by the noise, by the frenetic movement, but she smiled anyway as they made their way into the house.
"Let me take your jacket," Paige offered. "I'll put them up out of the way. Why don't you go wait over there, and I'll snag us a couple drinks on the way back."
"Oh, I'm not a big drinker," Kelsie said as she slipped her coat off and handed it to Paige.
"No problem," Paige grinned. "I'm sure they have other things around too, for the mixers and such. I'll find you something."
"Thanks," Kelsie smiled. "I appreciate it."
"Oh, it's no problem," Paige laughed. "Be right back."
Paige moved quickly, pausing only to toss the jackets in a small room off the hallway before heading to the kitchen. "Hey everybody," she said as she entered the crowded room.
"Paige!" her friend Ashley cried, throwing her arms around her in a drunken hug. "What took you so long?"
"I ran into Kelsie," Paige explained, grabbing a Dixie cup from the counter. "I talked her into coming with me."
"But you hate Kelsie," Ashley said, puzzled. "And Colt will be here any minute! Why would you want her to tag along?"
"Because I am sick and tired of hearing about how good of a person she is," Paige snapped. "That's all Colt can talk about...how she's different from the other girls, how she's more mature than us. It's like the little bitch has a halo attached to her head, and I'm about to knock it right off of her."
"By bringing her to a party?" Ashley slurred. "I'm not following you, girl."
"Oh, I didn't just bring her to the party," Paige laughed, turning her back on everyone as she filled Kelsie's cup with soda, and pulled a small packet out of her pocket. "I'm going to make sure she has the best time of her life."
When Colt walked into the house, the first people he saw were Kelsie and Paige. He couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face. Paige had told him she would try and get Kelsie to come to the party, and she had definitely kept her word. He was crazy about Kelsie, entranced by her gentleness and kind heart. She was so different from every other girl here at school, who were focused on finding a guy to latch onto, or just having a good time. Kelsie had a good heart, and he had fallen for her the first day when she had asked him for directions to the biology building.
He made his way over to the girls, talking to people as he went, accepting the slaps on the back with a good-natured smile. He was used to being talked to, to being popular, but knew that it was all about football. If he lost the ability to throw the ball tomorrow, ninety percent of his “friends” would vanish. Not Kelsie, though, he thought with a smile. Kelsie liked him for more than just football. “Hey Paige, Kelsie,” he said when he drew up next to them, smiling widely. “How’s it going?”
“Colt!” Kelsie exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and causing him to take a step back in surprise. “I’m so glad you’re finally here!”
Colt supported her with one arm, drawing back to study her with a frown. Her pretty face was flushed, her hair askew, and her eyes were bright and glassy. “Been drinking a little, Kels?” he asked, smiling a little. In a way, it was nice to see her unwind and relax a bit.
“Oh no,” she said slowly, laughing at the idea. “I don’t drink, Colt! Paige got me a Coke, and it must have gone right to my head.” She popped her forehead as she spoke.
“I don’t think so,” he said, shooting Paige a curious look. “You must have grabbed someone else’s glass or something. Here, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go and get you a glass of water, and a nice, cold rag?” Ignoring Paige, he took Kelsie’s hand, and led her over to the couch. “I’ll be right back, okay? You wait here.” Smiling at her one last time, he turned to go to the kitchen.
Paige followed him down the hall, sticking close to his back. “She’s such a liar,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know why she cares if you know that she’s been drinking. I mean, you’re not her dad or her boyfriend even. She’s been tossing them back since she got here, really. She must have done at least seven shots, and she’s had a couple of beers too.”
Colt shot her an unbelieving look as he found a glass and began filling it with ice. “Kelsie’s not much for lying,” he said quietly.
“Well, either she’s lying or I’m lying,” Paige pouted. “Are you calling me a liar, Colt?”
He glanced back at her, covering the ice with water and grabbing a dish rag to dampen it. “No,” he offered diplomatically. “But I can’t imagine Kelsie lying about this, either.”
They left the kitchen the same way they had came, with Paige following close behind, and Colt trying to plow through the people who wanted to stop and talk to him. They finally made it back to the living room and on the couch was Kelsie, sprawled on her back with her head flopped back. This would have been sadly amusing if it wasn’t for the guy leaning over her, laughing with his buddies as he nuzzled her face with his.
Colt flew at him, his eyes swamped with rage. “Get off of her!” he yelled, grabbing him by the shirt collar and sending him flying. “Kelsie?” he squatted beside her, tapping her face with his hand. “Kelsie…sweetheart, wake up.” When there was no movement from her, Colt took the rag and patted her face with it, hoping it would alert her. “Kelsie? C’mon, Kelsie…this is no place to sleep it off.”
“How much did you give her?” he heard whispered behind him, and his head swiveled to see some girl talking to Paige, her eyes on Kelsie in concern. “God, you don’t think you killed her or anything, do you?”
“What did you do?” Colt roared at Paige, jumping up to grab her arm before she could disappear. “You tell me right now what you did to her, or I’m calling the cops.”
“It’s nothing,” Paige whined, trying in vain to shake her arm free. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Then tell me what it was! What did you give her?”
“Just a couple of downers, God,” she pouted. “She’s not so perfect, Colt…she drank it right down, and now look at her. She’s making a fool of herself, and everyone is here to see it.”
“You stupid, jealous bitch,” he spat. “What in the hell is wrong with you, huh? Why would you do that to anyone?” He let her go, shoving her away from him. “You make me sick, Paige.” Without another word, he whirled away from her, headed back to Kelsie. “Kelsie…baby, please wake up. Please.” Raking a hand through his hair, he bowed his head over her, trying to think of what to do. “Ok, we’re going to the hospital.” He slid his arms underneath her prone body, lifting her off the couch with ease. “Move,” he shouted at the people, who hurriedly parted to give him room. Colt squeezed through the crowd, pressing his mouth to her forehead. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered as he stalked towards the door.
“Colt?” Kelsie’s voice was weak and hoarse. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I know, baby, I know,” he said, nodding at someone to get the door. “But I’m here, Kelsie. And I promise I’ll always take care of you.” With a smile for her, he was out the door.
It didn’t take long for the hospital to pump her stomach, getting rid of the pills Paige had slipped her, or to refill her with fluids. And it didn’t take the cops long to understand what happened and get on the road to go find Paige. But it did take Colt a very, very long time to live up to his promise to always be there, though he figured a lifetime ought to do it. So in their way, no matter how unusually it might have started, Colt and Kelsie got the happy ending they deserved, and there was peace throughout Madison again.
Friday, September 12, 2008
I don't think CSI is literature, but...
If you look at the definition of literature, it seems that it's only a piece of written work with a specific purpose for the audience reading it. But that could be anything, really. Does that mean that my shopping list is a piece of literature? It's written down and its purpose is to inform me of what I need. Are those stupid commercials of TV literature? What about the silly satire movies that people seem to love? Can that classify as literature? To me, that's a big negative, though my only reasoning might be that I'm such a bibliophile that it pains me to consider otherwise. I mean, have you seen the crap on TV nowadays? I think it's an insult to great literary figures to even put things like The Real World or South Park or shows like that in the same category that we hold Jane Eyre and Gone With The Wind. It cheapens what is great to view them in the same light.
Now, don't get me wrong-I love some trashy shows and movies as much as the next person. I'm helplessly addicted to the unhealthy self-obsession I see on The Hills. I love Grey's Anatomy, and CSI, and House almost to the point of weird. Movies don't have to be huge, inspirational films to hook me...from V for Vendetta to The Toy to the South Park Movie, I am easily pleased in that way. But would I look at my very favorite episode of CSI (which is actually extremely well-written) with the same set of standards I have for a novel I read? Of course not! That episode was literature at one point, when it was written down, but when it is aired, it is expressed through the art form of acting, and that dilutes what was. It's the same with plays...you can read Romeo and Juliet, and that is literature, but when you're sitting in the audience watching it being acted out, you are receiving another's interpretation of it rather than your own.
So even though things like TV shows and movies start out as literature, if you are not the one directly interpreting what the author wrote, it stops being literature in my opinion, and takes on a new form of art.
Now, don't get me wrong-I love some trashy shows and movies as much as the next person. I'm helplessly addicted to the unhealthy self-obsession I see on The Hills. I love Grey's Anatomy, and CSI, and House almost to the point of weird. Movies don't have to be huge, inspirational films to hook me...from V for Vendetta to The Toy to the South Park Movie, I am easily pleased in that way. But would I look at my very favorite episode of CSI (which is actually extremely well-written) with the same set of standards I have for a novel I read? Of course not! That episode was literature at one point, when it was written down, but when it is aired, it is expressed through the art form of acting, and that dilutes what was. It's the same with plays...you can read Romeo and Juliet, and that is literature, but when you're sitting in the audience watching it being acted out, you are receiving another's interpretation of it rather than your own.
So even though things like TV shows and movies start out as literature, if you are not the one directly interpreting what the author wrote, it stops being literature in my opinion, and takes on a new form of art.
Makings of Literature
You wouldn't think writing would be so difficult...you have a thought, you put it on paper, and viola! In reality, though, the amount of work that goes into writing a literary work is astounding. There's so many different elements that have to be present to make the work stand out, make it real and touching. Studying literary elements the past couple of weeks has shown me just how much goes into writing. It's really not as simple as I thought, and I have been an avid albeit amateur writer for years. Basic plot and grammar skills are only part of what a story needs. The characterization has to be detailed and vivid, the imagery has to be strong and sharp, the setting needs to be appropriate for the events. In the case of literature, it really is the millions of details that paint the entire picture (kinda like Vermeer's paintings in Girl With the Pearl Earring). Studying the literary elements involved rather than just accepting them really made me have a greater appreciation for what I read. I don't think I'll start dissecting everything I read, judging their use of the elements simply because while that might enhance my understanding, I think it would take away the pure, simple pleasure I feel when I read. Without a doubt, though, studying the elements and knowing what to look for will have a small part in how I receive a literary work. I think it's important to appreciate the technical aspect of writing without losing sight of what the author is trying to do by implementing all of the elements...touch you. If a person gets too bogged down in the requirements and regulations of writing, then we lose the ability to just close out the world and be swept away by it.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Stopping By The Woods on a Snowy Evening
Out of all the poems I have read in my life, all the poems I have loved, this is the one that has always stuck with me for some reason. It's the only poem I can recite from memory, actually. The imagery is fantastic in it, in a very simple way. Frost doesn't go out of his way to paint the picture with fancy words and extreme detail, but instead uses simple structure and clean words to give us a connection to the poem.
Certain lines from the poem such as "to watch his woods fill up with snow" and "between the woods and frozen lake" and the famous "the woods are lovely, dark, and deep" helps us paint a very clear picture in our heads. You feel as if you are sitting astride a horse, pausing beside an icy lake and a patch of woods, mesmerized by the sight of snow falling down and coating the ground around you. It makes the woods come alive, become a place that sucks you in and transports you to a peaceful place, a place full of quiet and serenity. You can see the clean countryside, miles away from the bustle of town, covered in a blanket of white, and feel the exhaustion of knowing you must keep trekking on, no matter how deep the snow is, no matter how tiring and consuming the trip will be.
It's not just a picture, though, for Frost also gives us sounds in his poem with lines like "he gives his harness bells a shake" and "the sweep of easy wind and downy flake". With those being the only sounds, it gives us a sense of quiet again, of sitting still and listening to a cold winter wind blowing around you, sending snow dancing with each gust, our horse tossing his head impatiently, wanting to keep going through the cold while we are lost in the moment. Perhaps the horse blows out a frustrated breath, sending steam through the air, or even stomps a foot, urging us to move on. We can't move on, though, not when we are so fascinated by the scene before us.
This poem is so much more than just a man riding a horse past a stretch of woods. That's far too simple an explanation, though I suppose that's all some people can see. The poem is deeper than that, though, and darker too. I see it as a man's pre-occupation with something, some thought or problem that has taken up his mind completely. He gets lost in the simple sight of the snowy woods because it is his break from his reality and though he wishes he could stay lost forever, ignoring his problem and lost in a dream-world, he knows he cannot give up, but must persevere. This poem is the one I read when I'm feeling low, or overwhelmed by something I feel I cannot solve. I go to my own dark place at times, my own stretch of evening woods, and reading Frost's determination to go on reminds me that I too have miles to go before I sleep. No matter how dark and deep the woods are, no matter how tempting it is to just stop and lose myself, I always read this poem and remember I must go on.
Certain lines from the poem such as "to watch his woods fill up with snow" and "between the woods and frozen lake" and the famous "the woods are lovely, dark, and deep" helps us paint a very clear picture in our heads. You feel as if you are sitting astride a horse, pausing beside an icy lake and a patch of woods, mesmerized by the sight of snow falling down and coating the ground around you. It makes the woods come alive, become a place that sucks you in and transports you to a peaceful place, a place full of quiet and serenity. You can see the clean countryside, miles away from the bustle of town, covered in a blanket of white, and feel the exhaustion of knowing you must keep trekking on, no matter how deep the snow is, no matter how tiring and consuming the trip will be.
It's not just a picture, though, for Frost also gives us sounds in his poem with lines like "he gives his harness bells a shake" and "the sweep of easy wind and downy flake". With those being the only sounds, it gives us a sense of quiet again, of sitting still and listening to a cold winter wind blowing around you, sending snow dancing with each gust, our horse tossing his head impatiently, wanting to keep going through the cold while we are lost in the moment. Perhaps the horse blows out a frustrated breath, sending steam through the air, or even stomps a foot, urging us to move on. We can't move on, though, not when we are so fascinated by the scene before us.
This poem is so much more than just a man riding a horse past a stretch of woods. That's far too simple an explanation, though I suppose that's all some people can see. The poem is deeper than that, though, and darker too. I see it as a man's pre-occupation with something, some thought or problem that has taken up his mind completely. He gets lost in the simple sight of the snowy woods because it is his break from his reality and though he wishes he could stay lost forever, ignoring his problem and lost in a dream-world, he knows he cannot give up, but must persevere. This poem is the one I read when I'm feeling low, or overwhelmed by something I feel I cannot solve. I go to my own dark place at times, my own stretch of evening woods, and reading Frost's determination to go on reminds me that I too have miles to go before I sleep. No matter how dark and deep the woods are, no matter how tempting it is to just stop and lose myself, I always read this poem and remember I must go on.
Imagery
There are so many different things that take a story from being just words to something that catches people's hearts and minds. Every aspect of the story is important to making up the whole...the speaker, the setting, the characters, but to me the most striking part of any literary work is the imagery, whether visual or auditory. To me, that's what makes the words come alive, paints the images in your head. It's what makes you feel a breeze on your face, or the fear of the character. Imagery let's you hear voices, and smell fire, and everything else that's a part of the individual story. Like in the poem "Birches" by Frost, the line about the sun's warmth making the branches shed their crystal shells...you can read that one single line and see a tree heavy with ice, and picture the thin light of morning soaking into them and sending ice to the ground below. Without that type of imagery, that particular choice of words, it's just a poem about trees in winter, not something that comes to life for the reader as each line unfolds. Don't get me wrong, everything about a story or poem has to be well-written for it to touch people, but without strong imagery...well, it's just words, plain and simple. Just a story. Just a thought. Imagery is what makes it real.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Lords of Discipline
I read The Great Santini the first semester of my sophomore year in high school, borrowing it from my truly awesome English teacher's personal collection. Within five chapters I fell absolutely in love with Pat Conroy's writing, and had to have more. She had two of his other books at the time so naturally I borrowed them as well. I started reading the Lords of Discipline that Friday afternoon, and finished it by the next evening. When I was done, instead of picking up the next book, I went back and re-read the same book, taking more time and care, paying more attention to it, and it's been at the top of my list of beloved books ever since.
Besides Conroy's writing (which just appeals to me on every level), the book itself is amazing...the plot and the characters are so complicated, so intense that you can't help but get emotionally involved with them. It seems simple at first...four seniors at a military institute, dealing with life and school, but then the book turns and twists and goes into a much darker place. There's a deceit that is spread throughout the pages so clearly that you feel like your hands have been tainted. The characters come to life, virtues and flaws, and inspire you to either love or hate. You feel pity and affection for the main character, Will McLean, and form a deep attachment to his three roommates and to their mentor 'the Bear'. This book runs the gamut of emotions...it makes you laugh, and pisses you off. It fills you with righteous indignation, then warms you to the depths of your soul. You feel triumph at the ending, but even that is marred by the sadness of what came in the middle. At one part of the book, I didn't even realize I was crying until a tear hit my page...that's how engrossed I was in it. Of course, once I realized it, I couldn't stop crying.
I loved the flashbacks, loved the eccentricities of the characters, loved the emotion that seemed to leap off of every page. This book is deep and dark, and speaks of a friendship so strong and powerful that it can beat anything, even corruption. I have read all of Conroy's novels, and though each one is special, and worthy of being re-read over and over again, none of them have ever quite grabbed me like The Lords of Discipline. I think it'll be one of my favorites for the rest of my life.
Besides Conroy's writing (which just appeals to me on every level), the book itself is amazing...the plot and the characters are so complicated, so intense that you can't help but get emotionally involved with them. It seems simple at first...four seniors at a military institute, dealing with life and school, but then the book turns and twists and goes into a much darker place. There's a deceit that is spread throughout the pages so clearly that you feel like your hands have been tainted. The characters come to life, virtues and flaws, and inspire you to either love or hate. You feel pity and affection for the main character, Will McLean, and form a deep attachment to his three roommates and to their mentor 'the Bear'. This book runs the gamut of emotions...it makes you laugh, and pisses you off. It fills you with righteous indignation, then warms you to the depths of your soul. You feel triumph at the ending, but even that is marred by the sadness of what came in the middle. At one part of the book, I didn't even realize I was crying until a tear hit my page...that's how engrossed I was in it. Of course, once I realized it, I couldn't stop crying.
I loved the flashbacks, loved the eccentricities of the characters, loved the emotion that seemed to leap off of every page. This book is deep and dark, and speaks of a friendship so strong and powerful that it can beat anything, even corruption. I have read all of Conroy's novels, and though each one is special, and worthy of being re-read over and over again, none of them have ever quite grabbed me like The Lords of Discipline. I think it'll be one of my favorites for the rest of my life.
Literature
I've always been viewed as a little weird because I was one of the few kids in school who really enjoyed my English and literature classes. When everyone else would groan about having to read Pygmalion or The Odyssey, I viewed it as a pleasurable chore, kinda like washing dishes. Reading takes you into a whole new world, transports you into another life, and sometimes that escape is the most magical thing about literature. Whether its written for educational purposes or for sheer entertainment, the written word sets us directly into the author's world. It's how we know about the events that shaped our world, and the people that helped change it. How else can you understand what the Crusades were like? What's another way to know what life was like on the home front during the Revolutionary War? Literary works are like a time capsule that can survive centuries, and be passed down from generation to generation. It can educate you, entertain you, move you, challenge you. From making you laugh to breaking your heart to absolutely changing your view on the world, literature has always been the cornerstone of art. It's the world's story, written down for everyone to read and take from it what you will. A single line can change your life...it can give you a purpose, destroy a notion, motivate you to be more than you are. Every person ever born has a story to tell. We're given a blank sheet of paper at birth (or maybe a prologue) and it's up to us to fill in the rest. More than anything, I want to give the world a story, one that nobody else can give it. And maybe my story can help another kid escape when the world just gets to be too much.
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