Friday, February 27, 2009
I wept tonight in a very public place. All eyes were not on me, thank God, and it was in dark in the club, so I was not embarrassed. It started the moment this young, fair skinned man walked onto the the empty stage carrying a very good friend of his, the cello, in his arms. I don't know what it is, but music can make me cry, weep, laugh, and move like the crazy woman I was destined to be. Anyway, this time wasn't any different, only more so.
I decided to see this man, Ben Sollee, because it was free and I had looked him up on youtube and I seemed to like his soulful voice and cello playing. I guess it didn't hurt that he was majorly cute and smiled a beautiful smile when he played.
There were so few people at the show that we each had more than enough space in our personal bubble, which feels weird at a club, and a little wrong. I felt like I had to take up more room than normal; I didn't want the performers to feel bad. So I stood strong and I clapped loud and I whoo hooooed all night long.
But the boo hooooing happened when he played this song about change and about becoming a daddy (he told us that his wife was pregnant with their second baby, and at age 24 and being a touring musician, he told us that people usually have a lot to think and say about that). But his song, oh lord help me, it got me. From the moment it started until he stopped bowing that great stringed instrument, I was taken over. I bet it's the same feeling people get when they go to church and they feel the heavenly spirit upon them. What I felt was the love pouring from this young man's heart, down his arms, into those strong hands and gentle fingers, through his mouth, and out for the world to hear. And I felt so blessed to be one of the ones that could witness and feel this.
The whole time I was listening to him, I was trying to come up with what I was going to say to him after the show, because I had to somehow express how much his music meant to me that night. But when I did met him, it was as weird as it always is when I meet someone who has just blown my world but wouldn't recognize one hair on my body, let alone know such personal things as I know about them. All I could say was, "thank you, that was just awesome", and in my head I think "stop sounding like a crazy girl that doesn't know anything, of course he knows that was awesome" But he asked if I played, and I said "yes mandolin", and he said something about frets and having a map to the instrument...and I was gone after that. Too much going on that I just shut down. I know I said something that was stupid, but I'm not going to let it ruin my experience. I just wish I knew how to express myself better sometimes. It would make life a lot easier, and I think I'd have more friends. Really awesome, cute, cello playing friends.
Oh, I just found this picture that I had to share. Look at him and tell me you don't love him. Notice the earrings, the t-shirt, and his little boy in his arms... at the beach I might add. Now I know this man could be totally not what I think, but in my mind he is pretty cool, and I bet you, he's that way in real life too.
Ok, well that's it. Check out his music is you want. Now I just need to buy one of his cds...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
This is the latest of the class poems. I think it's a little silly, and not so good, but I enjoy it, and that counts for something, yeah? I feel a bit strange posting up each of my poems, because I know that all who read this probably write at least three poems a day, each better than my own, but I'm okay with that. Hasn't stopped me from embarrassing myself before, so why start now?
Now the problem is I have to revise them all, making them significantly better than before. (Actually, that shouldn't be much trouble. Heh.)
So here you are...
I wish I didn’t have the genes for stretch marks,
And spider veins. They both creep on my body as I age;
I’m only nineteen.
I’m glad I got the music-making genes, even though
Neither of my parents know where that came from.
(It came from them both.)
I don’t like how I have the anti-social, awkwardness gene
Which makes me feel lonely, even when my world is encircled
By so many beautiful people.
I like how I got the gene to feel rhythm and not be afraid
To move wherever I am, even if it gets me strange stares and makes my
(Once) boyfriend call me a dork.
I hate my gene that makes me hate. I love my gene that makes me love.
I don’t know if I like the gene which makes me second-guess myself,
I just don’t know…
I like my jeans that hug my ass and make me walk proud.
I don’t like the jeans that are too short for my long legs and make me
I like learning about genes, about babies, about life. I hope to one day
Find a genome that I really love, and swirl mine with his, and see
What that creation looks like, what genes
She or he will love and hate.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
She is our new apartment puppy, but her real mommy is Amanda. Right now she is tucked between my boobies, feeling my heart beat and absorbing some heat. She's half dachshund, half chihuahua and as cute as a button.
This is her first day with us, so of course I had to create a sling out of a long-sleeved shirt and pretend that she is my baby. So far I have discovered that she likes to sleep a lot, she is not afraid of big stuffed animals, she pees in little amounts (but quite frequently), she likes to follow you real close, and she yelps real loud when you accidentally kick her as you're walking (sorry girl).
She's precious, and she makes me happy.
What do you think?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I feel it
A small, wooden
Box with strings
To a living creature
Fondled at my breast.
I love feeling its heart
Beating, it’s soul tumbling
And singing. It brings me close
To God. Makes me feel like I’m living.
Ode to Mama
She brought me
Soup and Bread.
and Sudafed to cure
My bruised heart
And stuffy head.
Monday, February 2, 2009
How can someone break your heart when you weren't even in love with him?
I don't understand, but it probably wouldn't help if I did anyways.
When I saw him in the room full of people I love, my heart started pumping so fast and hard, I think it was trying to spring out of my chest so it could beat him up.
"Let me at 'em", my heart was saying to me. "Let me show him what he did to us."
I'm not mad that I saw him tonight; it had to happen sooner or later. In fact, I secretly have been wishing to see him, but it definitely did not do for me what I wanted it too. The last time I was with him we were still a couple and I kissed him goodbye. That must be why tonight was so difficult for me. He didn't even say hello to me when I walked in, he looked at me once the whole night, and I know this because I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked a bit haggard and I wonder if I had something to do with that, or if it was just too much partying the night before. Selfishly, I hope it was me.
If I was an angry person, I would be so pissed off at him for showing up to my sister's house, knowing perfectly well that I was probably going to be there, and yet, I'm not angry, just teary-eyed and tired. I feel weak for wishing that he would realize he made a mistake and ask for me back, but since that's not going to happen, I should study some Anatomy and microbiology, because I have those tests on Wednesday and I can't just ignore that part of my life, although I desperately want too right now.
Anyway, I'm quite fine and normal I would say. Just hoping for some lighter days ahead.
On a lighter note, I was watching the news tonight and saw that picture of the world's greatest super hero champion swimmer, Michael Phelps, taking a hit from a bong, and it made me happy. Even the greatest Olympian of the world smokes weed. Let's think about that one for a moment. Aww, the irony of it all.