Singing With My Brother But No Shoes

He has agreed to sing in the church choir with me. Very forbearing of him. The poor child is going bald already - i expect it's all my fault. The other singers said they knew immediately who he was - he wasn't wearing shoes (is it really illegal to drive without shoes? that doesn't make any sense... therefore it must be true, i suppose). Although, unfortunately for him, he does rather resemble me (except that the little brat managed to grow taller than me! it simply isn't fair). And of course, since he can actually sing (i swear i was bragging about him like a proud momma or something; it was bizarre, i almost couldn't stop myself: "Oh, he sings bass. He was in a barbershop quintet last year. And he plays brass - baritone, tuba, and trumpet. Plus piano and organ, a little. Unlike me, he can talk in coherent sentences and count past ten. Just brilliant.") they're grateful for him. I was so glad to be back. It's such an amazing group dynamic - people who are or have taught singing, english, elocution, and intruments, plus people who are there jsut because they like to sing, mostly a decade or two older than me... Most of them have known eachother for years and are always making fun of each other, and while people don't seem to mind being personally insulted i am glad we have such a tactful conductor - those musical discussions can get pretty heated. It is so different to sing with a group of people who are brought together because they are not only passionate but educated about music, versus a high school choir which is all about the grade. I love it. Even more, i love being able to share this experience with my brother. Life is wonderful, sometimes, isn't it?

chronicles of humiliation (i.e. school)

So, let's see... Don't tell my parents, but now that it's my car, and my gas... I slow down for speed bumps, stop at stop signs, turn the car off as soon as i park instead of finishing the song, i don't speed (as much)... My first class is an intro to computer course - what's a CPU, how to use excel, basic programming stuff. Vaguely interesting. Actually, i would probably be bored out of my mind except for the fact that the prof reads from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis, which i think is sooo cool. How many people would connect a fifteenth century monk with modern technology? Next is world literature. So far, nothing i haven't heard before. Art. The idea of growing up to be a painter has appealed to me from a young age. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), i have never learned to paint. I can sketch a little, but that is all. Not that this matters, since our first assignment is to draw on a banana. Because it is unconventional, and nothing in this world is worthwhile unless it be nontraditional or unconventional. Another way to be unconventional is to not comb your hair, roll up your pants, and get a tattoo. Or you could cut up random pieces of paper (magazines, cartoons, etc), take black and white photos of them, and then let the roll of film soak for a little while before developing. Or you could interpose shots of slavery and the holocaust with that of cute monkeys and bullfights, since obviously owning a pet is the same thing as genocide. This is also known as art. My most humiliating class is jogging. What kind of word is that, anyway? It always reminds me of hogs, from that nursery rhyme about the farmer coming home again. Why would anyone want to jog? I can walk much faster than i can jog. As a matter of fact, so could a turtle. I have now progressed so that i can run two whole laps without stopping. Are you not incredibly impressed? And i can run one and onehalf more before my legs fall off and i get sick. Yeah for regular exercise!! At least my example must be and incredible encouragement to the rest of the class.

First Day

I have internet!!! Wireless, even. One would think that after fourteen years of going to school, the First Day would lose most of its anticipation and agony. Well, perhaps it has lost some, but i still get an adrenaline rush from it. Actually, i suppose most people don't get an adrenaline rush from school. However, for me, the fear of large groups of people, and of getting lost, and of being late (heightened because of the messed up schedule for Convocation) is quite enough. Needless to say i am not exactly athletic (although i do need three PE credits to graduate - how sucky is that? - so i'm taking jogging this semester). Well, and my brother decided to attend the same school as i, so that's kinda nice. I took him and his roommate to a $3.50 movie this evening (Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull - rather Indy meets X-files, but it's cute). It's so weird being a responsible adult (or even a reasonable facsimile thereof). I do have my own room this year - blue walls ( i'm so sick of white), a proper closet (though, of course, nothing can beat a wardrobe), and three windows. It's an older house, with delightfully creaky stairs, odd corners, and comfortably ugly carpeting. It makes rather a nice change from military housing and cookie cutter development projects. I'm renting it from a lady whose kids are all out of the house at the moment, but she has a gorgeous fluffy cat that already seems awfully fond of sleeping on my stomache, and her eldest son (who lives not ten minutes away) has the most gorgeous dog - some type of husky, i think.

Fleeting Days of Summer

Or is it Fleeing? I've got less than a week left of my internship. It wasn't really at all what i expected (surprise, surprise! i often do try to live life without any expectations at all, but i've found that it falls flat. here's to being wrong!). As far as the logistics of running an archive, and helping people with research, i'm really no further than i was before. However, i've learned a bit about running a business, and the types of relationships that exist between bosses and employees. An academic library doesn't need to make money. A historic park does. This means that the organization and hierarchy of the staff is much more important. It means that the work done is not only "for posterity" but must have some (relatively) immediate purpose and value. It means that we can't just apply for another grant or scholarship, but must make do with what we have and must concentrate out efforts on that which will have the greatest public interests. GSRing has also been (much as i am loathe to admit it) a good experience for me. This may sound strange, but it is the first instance in which i have been able to relate to people as an adult - an equal. In the park offices i am an intern; at Sunday School and in choir i am the youngest by two decades; when living with my parents i am the Pastor's Daughter; at school i am a student. Of course there are always "peers" but that's not quite the same thing. I expect i shall tire of it soon - there are definite advantages to being young and ignorant. The new people being trained put this feeling into sharp relief - both elderly, and rather slow (dunno if it's fear of computers or what) - and i became a voice of experience (by some strange coincidence, i also saw buttercups buzzing after bees). I also learnt that i find 18th-20th century history rather prosaic. People would exclaim at how old an 18th century artifact was, and all i could think was "Wow, that's only a couple hundred years old!" Or they would be looking at a photograph from the late 19th century, and while i was exclaiming over what a recent process photography was, they would be like "Dude! it's in black and white!" It's just... American colonialism has nothing on European Medievalsim, i'm sorry.

FYI

I'm going through another slight transition period where my access to internet and inclination to post will be rather limited - moving from the place of my internship to the place where my school is to the place where i will be living during the school year to the place where my family lives and back.... Well, it's all rather confusing, but i won't be in any place for more than five days until after the first week in September. So posting is going to be even lighter than usual until then. If anyone is really that bored, i do have archives on the left side. Merry Christmas!!

"Thou Burning Sun With Golden Beam"

I really wish i could figure out how to get the photos off my cellphone, for even the poorest photo could give you a better idea than my words will. But it was such a magnificent event i simply must do my best to share. Let's see... Well, you know how they tell you the earth is round? I know it is not - they are wrong - for i saw the sun drop off the edge of the earth. Nor was i the only one. There is a small public beach 6-7 miles down the road. A bit of a bay - the land stretches almost to the horizon and then curves in a little, so it is relatively protected from the wind and waves. It is facing West. I like to go there to read after work, and in a pathetic attempt to get tanned. There were two or three other families there that day. I had been hoping to have the beach to myself, so i ignored them, and they returned the favour. The sun began to go down. The blue sky turned orange and purple - it brought to mind bizarre and abstract paintings. The sun was pink and yellow, and the closer it got to the edge of the water, the faster it went down. The light reflected off the water so that it formed a straight path on the waves - if i had so desired, i could have walked on it. I could have reached the edge of the earth and touched the sun. But i was rooted to the ground - we all were. We had all begun to pack (the sun sets late - it was after nine-thirty), but we could not leave. Even the youngest children paused their splashing and screaming. Our breath stopped, or at least it seemed completely irrelevant compared the pulse and rhythm of the waves and the sun. The sky faded, and only the perfectly circular sun was reflected on the water. The path was fading, though the sun was still bright. I wanted to follow so much that i ached. The sun continued to sink. The horizon was a straight line - i believe the earth stopped there. If we were still before now we became statues. The glow of the sand and the green of the grass and trees, the bright and raucous colours of our towels and lawn chairs, all of this seemed unbelievably dull and faded in comparison. It sank, and the path became shorter and shorter. Just the very top was visible, yet still we could not move. What we were hoping for or what we feared, i do not know. But the tension of both was in the air. The sun was gone. It had fallen. It was gone. A collective sigh, and we all looked at each other, curiously, as if we had just been given our vision and yet were surprised to find everything looking so familiar. Ridiculous grins plastered on, we all silently finished packing and staggered back to the parking lot. Not having any small children to pack, i was the first one to leave. We waved and nodded to each other as i headed back to the East.

What Is It With Small Towns? I Have Never Been This Creeped Out In a City.

So, the first time i noticed it was in the stores here. As i mentioned before, they absolutely pounce on you. "Did you see this? Did you know that we can do this? Do you know what a good bargain this is? What's your name? Where you from? What's your SSN?" Okay, they didn't really ask that last question. And then, of course, there was the yarn lady... Another time, i was sitting on a sort of wall right next to the curb, talking to my dad on the phone. Not bothering anybody. A policeman drives up, pulls over, and asks me who i am. I give him my first name, and he drives off w/o another word. A couple weeks later, and i am again talking to my dad on my phone (which is very cute and purple, btw). I am walking up and down a side street, behind a motel and a couple of residences. It's right off one of the main drags. I'm wearing this huge black sweater - it reaches down past my knees and wraps all the way around me - a scarf, and a beat up grey purse. The whole outfit, while comfortable, is quite ugly. This white haired man in a gold pickup drives up and down the street at least half a dozen times, smirking and waving at me each time he passes. It's daylight and there are other people around, but my dad (to whom i'd been relating the whole) insisted that i go to a more popular area. I moved to the main street, and the guy drove around the block a coupla times before leaving. Okay, but the next event is even more amusing. Somebody called the cops on me! I just don't get people here - they must be bored outa their minds. Blame it on the library. I was on the phone again (and i know i'm not the only person here with a cell phone - it's not like it's a bluetooth or anything) talking to someone i hadn't heard from in a while. I sat on the steps of a church, since i could see the water from there, but it was across the road from the park and there wasn't even any sidewalk on this side of the road so i wouldn't be in anybody's way and they wouldn't be in mine. And i was talking on my phone, laughing and smirking, banging away at bugs with my shoe (all the things one normally does while on the phone). I saw some shoes coming down the walk as if from church, and thought "well, that's odd, i didn't think anyone was in there and didn't hear the door." It was a (cute, blonde) policeman - "Do you need help, ma'am?" (Ma'am!!) "Umm, no... Do you want me to leave?" (i assumed it must be loitering - couldn't think of anything else) "Oh, no - you're fine. Some one called and said you were talking to yourself, but i see that you are on your phone." And then he left. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? I tell ya, ya gotta love these small town communities.