Friday, November 14, 2008

Dreams and Dream interpretation

I don't always remember my dreams. Sometimes they are wonky, sometimes they are vivid, but most of the time, I have forgotten them by the time I wake up.

Today, last night's vision is haunting me. Part of it was seriously out there, but part of me is really bugged by it. The dream was extremely vivid, but the part that I remember the most is where a friendship changed for the better (in a way I doubt it ever would, and in fact, to this point, didn't really think I wanted). Due to that change, I was happier than I have been in a long time. I was flooded by a perfect sense of being. I knew everything would be great no matter what came my way now that this was set.

Do you ever feel that way? Is there a moment where you want your dream to be real? Also, if it was something you could possibly pursue, would you? Is dream happiness attainable? Am I just really craving a richer fantasy life? Part of me wishes this dream had just faded like the rest of them. You don't have to answer. I think I am just posing a question into the void.

ETA: I really do have a blessed life. I am happy being who am I and what I do. There are always areas of your life you wouldn't mind being better at (i.e. more Christ-like, more organized, less messy), but right now I am really in a great place. The emotions evoked and vividness of the dream just really caught me off-guard. And part of me thought about pulling this post because it is more vulnerable than I am comfortable being outside of my head.

Monday, November 10, 2008

The side-show freak

Crazy things that have happened to me of late:

Girlie Issues--Boo!
30th Birthday--Yeah!
Kidney Stones--Sob!
Weird muscle issues---You don't want to know.

Sometimes my life is quite amusing, as in, "I think the Lord fulfills his sitcom needs with my life."

Things that have made it better:
  1. The Cake Wrecks Blog--Love it!
  2. Alias--sometimes you need the wigs! the beautiful Vaughn, the amazing Awesomeness of Jack Bristow, and the angelic-looking, twisted-evilness of Julian Sark.
  3. The Pear Square Event--Brittany got me to spend too much! But it was so worth it.
  4. Massage Envy--well, hopefully, today at 5:30.
  5. A clean kitchen and dreams of a gorgeous oven.
  6. Dinner with friends, bonfires, birthday parties, one-on-one Family History meetings, more than 3 people attending my Sunday School class, snarking, and singing in the car at the top of my lungs (also known as "My weekend in a nutshell").

Happy Monday!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

The Decade List

Now that I am 30, there are a few things I want to do in my next decade. This is by no means a comprehensive list. Also, in no particular order.
  • Skydive
  • Spend a month in Europe
  • Take a knife techniques class (for in the kitchen, though the other class could be cool, too)
  • Write a book and shop it around
  • Write a screenplay
  • Travel to at least 2 different continents
  • Find a bunch of Daddy's German records (you didn't think I would leave out the Family Historying did you?)
  • Possibly go back to school for a Masters, or to Culinary school
  • Save up for the perfect kitchen, which will include this (or a form of this--I dream about this oven)
  • Return to some of my acting/musical roots--community theatre-wise, maybe.
  • Find a regular gig where I can sing Jazz at a piano for hours
  • Meet a regular make-out partner--er, potential boyfriend (er, Richard Armitage?)
  • Go visit all the friends I haven't seen in ages (you know who you are! and I miss you!)
  • Beg Daddy to make me another bookshelf, and buy a house with room for it. . . and a library
  • Save up a nest egg
  • Get my food storage set and rotated at regular intervals (I totally need to schedule it better)
  • Take a few dancing classes (possibly Tango--I think those little flick-kicks are the sexiest things ever)
  • Go to Comic-Con (Yes, I am a geek, but if you know what this is, you are too)
  • Attend a session at all the Temples on the Eastern seaboard (I have done 4 of them: Palmyra, DC, Raleigh, and Orlando so far)
  • Go to more cultural events (I miss when I used to be a season ticket holder at the ballet--don't you love how snobby that sounds?)
  • Write to Sean once a week while he is on his mission (I am a terrible corresponder, so this will be a feat!)
  • Read more spiritually-inspired books (I struggle with anything non-fiction lately)
  • Get a food processor that works
  • Invest in some really top quality kitchen knives
  • Learn to can more and do it.
  • Make a list of the books I've read, and start keeping track of what I thought about them--maybe booklist them for fun (Ah, Jen, I obviously miss your book lists)
  • Go to the library more, rather than buying every thing I am craving
  • Learn to relax more.
  • Create more Doctor Who, Veronica Mars, Pushing Daisies fans
  • Tell my friends more that I adore them.

Okay, so I am sure there are more, but there are 30 to start off with.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


She's inspired me. Maybe we should have a funky canning party. . . I'm not sure what we should can, but what is better than a fun food storage party, while also eating locally, and having fun with friends? Making freezer jam earlier this summer, I thought of those hours spent with my mother and grandmother canning anything and everything.

Days of picking then coring apples. Strapping on the special raspberry-jar aprons that would hold two large mason jars if you squeezed them in just right. Running your hands over the raised "Mason" while sweating in the hot, July sun. The color of fresh berries sparkling in the jar; the stain of reds and purples soaking into your skin--not quite washing out at the end of the day.

Shucking corn in the garage while singing random songs with your siblings, continually trying to brush off the white-blond hairs that match your siblings' in color if not in texture. Taking a jar of the best hot sauce ever to a neighbor. Sneaking almost-ripe grapes from the vine, wishing for the fruity burst to be sweeter, eyes scrunching as the too-tart, yet sticky-sweet juices mingle in your mouth. Hoping mom won't notice as you sneak a slice of pear off the cutting board, snapping beans becoming more muscle memory than work, or "accidentally" losing the fresh peas in your mouth.

I think making freezer jam is fun, but who has room in their freezer? I love how she describes the color-filled jars. It reminds me of my grandmother, and my mother, and countless women who have come before me. Yep. I don't have room for a garden, but it may be time for a canning party. I even have special shelves for it. Anybody interested?

Monday, October 6, 2008

Latest bloggernacle addictions. . . (In no particular order)

Yes, ever since Abby introduced me to Google Reader, I have been addicted. Crazily so, but I feel so much more informed these days. And I can gloss over anything I am not in the mood for (and thus live in my happy, little bubble).

Every so often, I get on a Mormon blog kick. Happy Monday and welcome to the bloggernacle.

Reveling in sisterhood: - Sometimes it is awash in the shifting waters of feminism, other times it is advice asked for, given, and shared from a loving sister or mom, and sometimes it is just a beautiful celebration of sisterhood. Recently they have had an non-Mormon guest-writer post about why she loves reading it despite not being one of that faith and an in-depth discussion of Sister Dalton's talk at conference and the connotations of the word virtue, but nothing is as poignant as this moment where a sister shares her heartache, and hundreds of sisters across the globe mourn with one who mourns.

Catching up with the Mormon World: - Some interesting articles that keep me up to date with the church in Utah, which leads me to. . .

Catching up with the Mormon blog World: - I enjoy randomly reading Mormon blogs around the world. Seeing someone else's faithful perspective is always interesting. They comment on everything from the most recent Sunday School Lessons, Family History updates, church press releases, to a general listing of a bunch of blogs encompassing a faithful perspective of the world we live in. It is nice to know you are not always alone in how you perceive things, and that not everyone acts like they belong in a seminary video. . .

Sometimes a little too close to home: - The writer has an interesting way of lampooning people I have actually met. But sometimes the way those people act actually rubs me a little wrong, and I end up seething after I read the blog. Though, where else can you automatically hear David Archeleta and vote on whether President Uchtdorf is a "wrinkle-free babe?!?" Sometimes I want to stop. I really should, but I am not sure I can.

Cooking with the Mos: - It isn't all funeral potatoes (though he does touch on them) and jello salad. Though I wept through his peanut butter phase (Sadly, I am recently--okay 6 years now--allergic), I can't wait to try the Eggs Benedict recipe.

Mormon in the City: - Though I didn't know her well when she left NC, I feel like I have gotten to know New York better (as well as the author) by reading her blog. I love her recent catalog of churches in her neighborhood.

A completely different perspective: - Being neither male nor married makes me completely the opposite of this fellow, but he has some amusing insights. From Western NC (so, he does have some perspective I get) this fellow comments on missions, Twilight, and baby namings, and yet, I am amused. His Twilight Rap is just weird, but the baby namings game was fun (and somewhat truthful), and one of his sponsors "HusbandHero" just makes me laugh. Ingenious--I wish I had thought of it first!

Mormons at the movies: - Eric is a movie critic who just happens to be Mormon. I enjoy his little comments at the end of each review as to why a specific movie got which rating. I really enjoy his really bad movie reviews (Yeah, Fridays!), but I adore Snide Remarks due to the college nostalgia (though this Monday's was not as good as it usually is).

Quick tidbits to make you snicker, when you don't have time for a full blog: - Kind of a twitter of Mormon blogs, you can revel in a small tidbit of things you may have almost encountered in your own ward. I spent a lunch hour one day going back through and laughing until I cried. Fun stuff.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Paul Newman, how I adore thee. . .

Confession time (ala Marti): I love Paul Newman. I have loved Paul Newman. I do love Paul Newman, and I will love Paul Newman (literary reference, though a non-Newman film). A few years ago, my Tivo was stuck with a single movie for months--The Long Hot Summer. After first viewing it, and subsequently, rewatching it that summer (and other, countless times), a girl never longed to be named Clara or be changed into a pillow more than I.

My first Newman movie was Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid because my dad liked westerns. I don't know if I was really blind or just silly, but for some reason, I thought Redford was the hottie in that one. I must have been drunk (side note: I have never been drunk, so probably not, but someone must have slipped me something).

A few years later, I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and repented. (So sorry, Paul, I have no idea what I was thinking. My heart will always be yours. Bob, who? Also, you aged so much better!) Ahem. Sorry. The most gorgeous couple ever to grace the screen (seriously, Brad and Angelina, who?). She of the purple eyes. He of the piercing blue (and it is not just me who thinks so). I loved the emotions he could evoke, and how much I really just wanted to stare. Partially because below the surface, so much happened--even a blink expressed emotions.

Though I have seen many of his other films, none could compare to how I felt watching The Long, Hot Summer. Okay, even now I can't get enough. Watching him fall in love on screen and off was electric. You knew these two would be a powerhouse couple, and they were for 50 long years and countless projects together. In the few interviews they have done together, they seem constantly in love even 50 years after it all began. I think there is just something extremely sexy about a man who faithfully loves a woman. Gorgeous.

My mother called my sister to tell her to break the news to me gently, as I was going to be in mourning. B thought it was funny. I agreed with Mom, and have been sighing and searching for all the information available (see the end of the post if you don't believe me). He was a pretty extraordinary human being, and I am pleased I have been able to truly adore him for such a long time.

A few years ago, a good friend gifted me with a picture of the young Newman. I still have it. I have just been looking for a frame. I randomly also have a black and white print of one in my office (print as in, from the printer)--just for those days when you need to take a break with a good sigh (and to wish for a good snog). Today, I noticed it again--I had completely forgotten I had it.

Ah, Paul, seriously, I adore you, and I will miss you.

Just in case you have missed anything, here are posts from his daughters, foundation, racing partners and just other links that I have amassed:

Hollywood Mourns Newman's Death
28 September 2008 7:36 AM,

Hollywood stars Robert Redford, George Clooney and Julia Roberts have led the tributes to movie legend Paul Newman, who lost his battle with lung cancer on Friday.

News of the Oscar winner's death was confirmed by his spokesperson Marni Tomljanovic on Saturday, and the tributes have been flooding in ever since.

Redford, who starred with Newman in 1969's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, was one of the first celebrities to comment on the 83 year old's passing.

In a statement issued on Saturday, the Spy Game actor said: "There is a point where feelings go beyond words. I have lost a real friend. My life - and this country - is better for his being in it."

Clooney hailed the late Cool Hand Luke star as "the best" in the business, saying, "He set the bar too high for the rest of us", while his Ocean's Eleven co-star Roberts adds, "He was my hero, he was a total inspiration."

Newman, who died at his home in Westport, Connecticut, had reportedly been given only weeks to live after completing chemotherapy treatment at a New York hospital in August.

He was nominated for 10 Oscars in his five-decade-long career, winning the best actor accolade for his role opposite Tom Cruise in The Color Of Money in 1986.

He also won two Golden Globe awards, a Screen Actors Guild award, a Cannes Film Festival award and an Emmy award.

In 2007, he announced his retirement, admitting he was too old to continue his work in Hollywood.

But his legacy will be remembered for years to come, claims actor/director Kevin Spacey.

He says, "An era just ended. Paul Newman was a great humble giant. He said it was all down to luck, but the rest of us know it was his talent, wit and generous heart that made him the star he was.

"He should be an example to the acting profession because he seemed to
have had his ego surgically removed."

Newman was also famed for his charity work. Following the death of his only son Scott from an accidental drug overdose in 1978, the star set up the Scott Newman Center for drug abuse prevention.

He was also the founder of food company Newman's Own, from which Newman donated all profits and royalties to charity.

And filmmaker Sam Mendes, who directed Newman in Road To Perdition in 2002, has credited the star for his philanthropy: "Working with him on Road to Perdition was the highlight of my professional life. To say he was an extraordinary man would be an understatement. It seems to me one of the great 20th century lives, a shining example of how to use global fame for the greater good."

Newman is survived by his wife - actress Joanne Woodward - and their three daughters, Elinor, Melissa and Claire. He also has two daughters, Susan and Stephanie, from his first marriage to Jackie Witte.
Newman's Daughter: 'Fans Should Support Each Other'
29 September
2008 5:15 AM, PDT

Latest: Hollywood legend Paul Newman's family has urged film fans to honour the Cool Hand Luke star - by doing a good turn for a friend.

The actor was almost as famous for his generous nature as for his roles in Oscar-winning classics Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Sting.

And, following his death on Friday, Newman's family wants the world to pay tribute to the star by doing something philanthropic.

His daughter Melissa says, "I guess what I really wanted to say was that anybody who wants to honour the memory of my father should know that he was all about doing things for other people.

"And if anyone's interested in honouring his memory, you could bring a bowl of soup to a friend or you could be philanthropic in some way, and just, you know, look out for each other."

Catching up on life. . . Or, limited brainspace, sorry.

Life has been a little crazy of late and is set to be even more crazy until the end of August, but it was killing me that I hadn't blogged in forever. So, here is what has kept my brain a little full (this first section was written on 7/13):

  • June 14th: The Komen Race for the cure (5k). My original goal was $100. Due to the generosity of my family, friends, and coworkers, I raised $325. Britt, who also participated, raised $95 (It was nearly $100, and for a ulcer-stricken moment it was $595). Sunni, Marti, Melinda, Jen Jackson and many others joined us. . . I walked it--so not a runner. I also got some kind of nasty pollen in my eye, and my eye swelled shut the next day. Only I could go to a race and have my eye swell. I am extremely talented.
  • June 20-23rd: B's Birthday Weekend Extravaganza. Somehow, I kept the big surprise a secret, though I had to tell a white lie to do it. B cleaned her room late into the night Thursday because a little birdie told her that some people were going to come decorate her room. Friday, her 23rd birthday loomed, and she hated me for her lack of sleep. Later that evening, decorating for our big to-do, my dear, sweet sister and I, with a huge cart of plants at home depot, ran into her surprise! And boy was it (check out K's facebook photos). Our indoor garden party, with shades of jazz and F. Scott Fitzgerald, was a success (I loved the tiny plastic "shot glasses" we found for the various mocktails I mixed). B also loved her weekend with K, her sister-designer and best friend (really, she took a quiz to prove it--how Brad tied with her, I'll never know). Yay for K! And for sisters who cry and jump up and down in the middle of Home Depot!
  • June 27-28: The Ruch Sisters (and the younger North Carolina Luke Sister) enjoyed the Biltmore in Asheville for the first time. We were tired and a little wet by the end, but it was very fun. I don't think I will ever forget running through the rain to the greenhouse down the center of the gardens. If people have lived in the Wal-mart and in the Harvard Library, maybe I can find a way to surreptitiously live in the Biltmore. It was opulent and gorgeous. Also, the road trip was delightful. Although, Miss Jen may have thought the Sisters Ruch were crazy by the end.
  • July 4th: Rainy and lovely. Cook outs and High School Musical. Fun, though odd evening. Sadly, no patriotic songs made Brittany cry this year, and that made me sad.
  • July 9-10th: Consultants in at Work, killer work week, grew to love Foster's Market for their ease in catering and their mouth-watering BLT Chicken Caesar wrap. Mmm-mmm
  • July 17th: First Annual Development Associates Retreat. T's baby. Again, exhaustion at the end of the week. But success!!! Yay!
  • July 24-25th: Development Officer Retreat. Lots of interesting information and fun social settings. Next year, if it is held there (cross your fingers), I'm going early for the spa. Check it out! We had gorgeous views and a gigantic flat-screen. Diane and I had fun being roomies.
  • July 30-31st: Development Orientation. Kill me now.
  • August 5-8th: More consultants, crazy, busy, lovely stuff. Thank goodness, again, for Foster's! Also, the fact that I didn't have to provide name tags. And the fact that the consultant who worked with me on all the planning had a lovely British accent (that can make up for a lot of things. . .). Though, please, if someone asks you for an RSVP, please RSVP! Grr. . . Also, ED was on vacation, so with the boss away, it was supposed to be a slow week! Not so much.
  • August 8-18th: the littlest Ruch came for a visit. We had zany, wacky fun, and I am not sure if Sean did much besides catch up on sleep and think that we have parties all the time. Hello--it was the season finale of So You Think You Can Dance (known from now on in this blog as SYTYCD--Joshua won. I am okay with that, I am a little upset that Chelsie and Mark were not in the finale as competitors. Sigh. . . and growl. Sorry, tangent done)! Sean had cooking lessons, party planning lessons, laundry lessons, TV etiquette lessons, and a speeding ticket. Poor thing. . . Oh, and an odd Puppet Show which was actually pretty awesome. Thanks, ED!
  • August 22-23rd: I chopped off 4 inches of my hair, and dyed it red. ED thinks I look like the best redhead who wasn't born a redhead. I will admit I do look cute. I am working on getting a picture up.
  • August 24th: Introduction Sunday. I brought treats (healthy!). I am forever loved due to my Mom-ness. Well, at least by those sitting in my row. Also, one Elder will never forget the sight of craisins coming for his head. Poor thing.
  • August 26th: Chinese and Brideshead Revisited. Though lushly shot, they didn't utilize their cast as they could have. I think that this one would have been better as a mini-series (which it technically was first). I believe though, that Abby won the Matthew Goode is my boyfriend contest. I just want to go to Venice now. Anyone know of any job postings there?
  • August 29th: Shopping Spree with ED! So fun! Lots of cute new clothes. I needed them a lot! Okay, maybe I can't leave my job yet.
  • August 29th-September 1st: Needed a break. Watched Austen movies and was ill all weekend. I couldn't shake the posh Austen accent for days. Poor B. I kind of broke it at April's birthday party! Weird to think that a year ago we had been partying it up for a week in Florida. Crazy.
  • September 6th: April's Belated Birthday with Crumpets, Blueberry Lemonade, the Sisters Millett, Dixie, Jen, Ruth, the Sisters Ruch, and North and South. Though Ruth and I have had our fights, Richard Armitage gets to be mine (well, at least as John Thornton--she can have him as Guy of Gisborne--I learned to share in Primary)! Lovely.
  • My social calendar and brain went on Hiatus for most of September due to extreme exhaustion and a sinus infection. B and I were both down for the count. We even administered a lovely, narcotic-filled cough syrup to each other. It was the only reason we slept for days. I only had room for Burn Notice and Buffy (with Melinda).
  • September 18th: the return of the boys. . . How I love them. Mostly Dean.
  • September 19-21st: Kimberly Comes to Visit! T learns to cook without wheat, and Jen Jackson finally finds out what it is to be a Southern Woman (and the tragic tale of diabetes mixed with blush and bashful).
  • September 22nd: Marked the season premier of one of my appointment shows (and I fed the missionaries) and the beginning of my TiVo being extraordinarily full while I am crazy busy.
  • B finished the Lake House for the Italians this past week, and also today. Stunning, gorgeous, and functional (when she updates the pictures--probably Friday--I'll link to them).
  • Things I can't remember the date of: good-bye parties to beloved friends (Sunni, Meg, Suzanne--sob!); strawberry picking, jamming, and breadmaking; and a Chapel Hill Public Library book sale in there somewhere that I missed (but it was more for B, and kind-of odd because we were buying books for their covers--shudder). Oh, and hyperactive Olympic watching--though synchronized swimmers are enthralling. Also, go Men's Volleyball (ah, Sophomore year of college)!
  • Oh, and one more thing, an adorable Charlotte Lily entered the world.

And now you are up to date. . . T's summer in a nutshell. Those of you wanting to catch up should now know wayyy more than you ever wanted to know about my summer. Loves!

Sunday, September 28, 2008

A quick apology. . .

So, the idea of this blog became a little overwhelming after I became WAY too existential about the existance of blogs in general and the purpose for writing about oneself. I promise to write again soon with a quick update of what happened this summer--and a moment of silence for a lovely friend and possible lover--if I had been born at the right time (sigh. . . ).

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The curse of the first born. . .

So, two weeks ago I started this post. It was going to be high-minded, semi-whiny piece on being the first born which started writing itself in my head after I read this article on the firstborn having it tough (when I saw the article, "Duh!" was the only thing that came to mind). I am not going to lie, I agree. There are things my younger siblings got away with that my mother would have killed me for. Also, I feel like I had to work a lot more—around the house, at the family business, whatever.

I think it also set me on a sleep-deprived quest for Perfection—or whatever I thought it was supposed to be. Sadly, that quest ended in tears and suicide attempts and hatred of oneself, which lead, thankfully, to self-awakening, self-love, and forgiveness (and B's massive embarrassment at my being uniquely myself pretty much all the time). In this post, the blogger kind of describes how I felt in trying to achieve "greatness," but feeling like a failure time and again because of that elusive end goal. Many times, I wanted to unplug and run free. Then someone else was chosen to run free, and it hurt that it wasn't me. Down the road, it is bittersweet when birthdays pass by (Happy Birthday, Nate).

But being the eldest (not quite, but long story) has had it's perks, which is something I have realized from the last couple of posts by the Mormon Foodie. I have a few more pictures than the younger Roos. I was read to a lot more. I sang with Mom in the car (there weren't cars with TVs with VCR/DVDs back then) which maybe lead me to be a better singer. Mom had a little more time to play with my hair (a practice which still is the easiest way to relax me). And I learned to cook and love it—okay, to love food in general.

Maybe it was just making the mac & cheese (with hot dogs!) that a few babysitters thought was our only food source. Maybe it was inventing bologna boats with Nathan, and realizing if you used the right plate, the bologna (for 30 seconds - 1 minute in the microwave) would curl up into a bowl shape, perfect for cradling hot melted cheese. Or adding the bread underneath to soak up all the grease (I know—ew, but oh so good). Maybe it was Thursday nights having pancakes and eggs, our plates set on towels in front of the TV while Dad was at High Council (back then, having food in the family room was usually verboten). Or making fried jelly sandwiches in a cast iron skillet over a campfire at girls camp.

I envied Nate his hand for inventing perfect variations of quesedillas. I perfected an alfredo sauce that is still creamy and good cold from the fridge the next day. My spinach gnocchi is divine. Also, I am kind of proud of my "Chips!" especially after my version of the recipe was emailed out to an entire Brazilian family, informing them they have made chocolate chip cookies wrong their entire lives (not by me). I may have rubbed my love of food into my hair with my first spaghettios (one of my first solid foods).

As the youngest of our clan graduates at the end of next week, it is interesting to ponder the difference our birth order has made in our lives. I am kind of glad to be first, though I will agree with the msn article at the beginning, we firstborns did have it more rough, but it has made me tougher and more me. And who wouldn't want to be that?!?

See, much less whiny than the original post was going to be; also, anything that talks about food is pretty awesome!

Monday, May 19, 2008

Starting your own bluegrass band. . .

Tuesday, May 13, 9ish pm, American Idol Randomness in the background, Lounging on the couch—brain cells switched to the off position.

"So, um, are you going to that Battle of the Bands thing?"
"The one on Saturday?”
“Probably not. I wanted to get a band together, but. . . meh.”
“We totally should.”
“Oh, come on. I’ll bring my violin over on Thursday and we’ll work something out.”
“I think you overestimate my guitar skills—it has been a long time.”

Thursday, May 15th, 5:30ish, driving home from a long day at work. . .

“Hey, you don’t happen to want to give me guitar lessons so I can play on Saturday do you?” Please say no; Please say no. . .
“Sure. You would have to pick me up.”
“Um. . . I’ll see you in 10 minutes?”

Same day, 9ish

“I can’t really practice. They are going to call me into surgery shortly.”
“Saving a life is much more important. We so do not have to do this.”
“We are doing this.”

Friday, May 16th, 6ish

“I’m coming over.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“We are so doing this.”
“How was surgery?”

Saturday, May 17th, 11:30 pm

“Not quite sure how we did that.”
“I know!”
“I am kind of sad we didn’t get to play our third song.”

And so, Chicks with Strings was born. . . and have now changed their name to Suz Y Roos. Welcome to my crazy life.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Around the web in considerably less than 80 posts

Some of the fun blogs (blogosphere and bloggernacle) I have been perusing in the last couple days include:

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

This May sweep you off your feet...

May sweeps is a time when advertisers look at ratings to decide where to advertise, and networks get to use those ratings to set advertising prices. In order to bolster their ratings, networks usually perform some kind of stunt (i.e. CSI and Two-and-a-half Men’s writers, neither of which I watch, switched places). This year, most people are happy just to have scripted shows back.

Side note: I followed the strike like the crazy TV junkie that I am. United Hollywood was my daily first stop. I was reading articles from both sides; but the studio honchos came off smug and money-hungry, while the writers came off as working people who were only asking for a fraction of what the studios already received. I had an ulterior motive, though—someday I want to be a screenwriter. In fact it is on my list of things to do in my next decade which will actually show up on my blog sometime around my birthday. I am giving myself six months to decide what I want to do with my next ten years.

As a self-proclaimed (diagnosed?) TV addict, it has surprised me that I have not been as excited by TV this spring. Sure, scripted shows are back, and I love The Office, Ugly Betty, Supernatural, Bones, Aliens in America (so sad it is going to be canceled), and the “fantastic” Doctor Who (Sorry, I am still working on catching up with Battlestar). I am looking forward to the return of Burn Notice, My Boys, Psych, and So You Think You Can Dance, but my heart longs for September when we finally get another Heroes, Chuck, and especially Pushing Daisies. Maybe the writers are having a slump. There are some good moments, but a lot of it is very “meh.”

Good TV is like the best books, it makes you delve into another world full of truth, pain, change, and good friends (I know, you think this is sounding a little familiar—I am addicted to good writing, sue me. That post is coming soon.). Literature has always been incredibly important to me—it can help shape the way we experience the world, experience it with us, or remind us that others have gone through it, too. TV has become like good literature. There are themes, mythologies, social commentary, and truth being packaged in with gorgeously sculpted characters—even wise-cracking, spunky, blond PIs—that I haven’t fully felt from many books in a while. Many of the books that have come out recently do not excite me like some of the TV I have been watching (which, just a few years ago, I personally would have taken as heresy). This is not to say that they are all succulently written, but like books, there is a spectrum, and a good portion of them are lovely.

The face of television is going to change in the next few years, and that may excite me more than anything else. Pilot season was ruined this year, and no one knows what will happen going forward—even the Upfronts are changing—but I think many sly, social commentators and brilliant, literary geniuses will, hopefully, create art in the realm of television. If we can keep the rising tide of reality drivel out of it (there is some place for a little reality—I adore Project Runway) and stop the cancellation of some very promising shows; we will discover some amazing pieces when all is said and done. We are experiencing something like the birth of the novel—a golden age of writing come to life. Enjoy May sweeps 2008, you may find inspiration where you least expect it.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Music that reverberates

From middle school on, I had a close friend who was an amazing musician. When she was a child, her family lived in Germany, and a cache of instruments was found in the attic of a nearby high school. Before they disposed of them, they offered a few to her parents. They chose a violin and a cello, and their two children learned to play at an early age (As the daughters of two music professors in the woodwind family, strings were a little radical).

For years I sat second chair to her first (She went on to be a violin performance major at Oberlin). When we warmed up, I would loosen my fingers to the delightful strains of Vivaldi (concerto #1 in A minor—the allegro), and she would play the haunting melody that repeats throughout Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade (Op. 35). For years, just hearing the opening notes to that symphony would make my entire body shudder in perfect, musical rhapsody.

It has been years since I have heard it (I cannot figure out why I do not own it). Yesterday, in the car, grumpy from having an abbreviated nap, I turned on the radio, and once again my heart was tuned to the rapture-inducing strains of that first violin solo. Time slowed down; everything around unfocused; any stress melted out of my cells. My arms jumped with goose bumps; and my synapses sparked with that violin. The exquisite beauty of that refrain always resonates to a point of near pain within me, and in that single moment it was just me and the music—nothing else existed. I sat in the parking lot, not wanting to lose that moment. Nearly sobbing, I felt a prayer of thanksgiving—no words were adequate enough, and let it go in order to go inside.

The definition of reverberate is “to continue in or as if in a series of echoes,” and the single memory of that moment continues to echo. Besides Christ, I don’t think there is a lot of perfection in this world, but the violin solo in Scheherazade comes close.

Friends who just happen to be books

Running my hands reverently over the well-loved covers of dusty books stored in my head, various friends smile, "This is your life," out from the shelves. I can hear the 4-year-old, slowly sounding-out the words of Danny and the Dinosaur cradled next to her mother (If she had taught me If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, which came out the year B was born, would I be more of a chef type? More of an animal lover?).

The six-year-old wanders into looming corridors and crawling rose gardens, snuggling into blankets as wind wuthers over lonely moors, looking for ghosts and a key. Potions glob and roil, while Gink companions along, diving in and out of scrapes on her broomstick. The wolves howl across frosty wastes and up to the ornate door, knocking with the tyrannical stranger, teaching her to cling to her cousin (or any loved one left) out of sheer stubbornness.

Nancy, Bess, and George get a fourth companion for their sleuthing. An invisible companion pulls Aerin out of the carnage and drags her broken body back home. The gallows swing behind Gwyn, but the wind pushes her out across the countryside for one more adventure. A less silly sister snickers with Lizzie and Jane and gossips about the occupants of Netherfield. Like Jack, I believe it, but I don't believe it.

Too often I think my life experiences were experienced in fiction first. Though I have been blessed with many wonderful friends throughout the years, my first true friends were the books I read. My brother Nathan used to tease me for reading too much and for knowing the librarians at school better than anyone else. But those librarians gave a lonely little girl a gaggle of friends who understood, and I am grateful to them for seeing that I needed those friends. As I add more friends at Goodreads, it makes me a little giddy to add both types of friends to the shelves in my heart, even if they are a little dusty.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

I'm just not that into you. . .

Meaning myself. Sometimes I think having a blog means you are extremely narcissistic (See Waterhouse’s Echo and Narcissus, left).

Since starting this blog about 24 hours ago, five to ten different posts have composed themselves in my head. Does this mean I am horribly self-involved, or that I live too much in my own head space (and need to write in my journal more)?

Abby is right—who are blogs really written for?

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Things I can't get out of my head. . .

Random note before I get to the actual post:

I have a healthy addiction to ellipses, so I am going to apologize now. I will be using them a lot. If you do not like them, please be forgiving and realize that I know it is a character flaw, but I am working on it.


Though not a complete list, the things below have been stealing into my conscious thoughts lately, and I cannot seem to shake them. So, today, I am hoping to share them in order to let them go, or at least give myself a cache of clickable friends to visit. These are in no particular order.

The pressure of naming your blog. . .

Naming a blog terrifies me to pieces. A blog is an online representation of you—your entire essence—the youness of you. The trouble is there is so much to me that I can never just decide which me I want to be (Also, to have a blog you need to be undeniably clever or have a great hook, neither of which I really have...).

Though some will argue that the use of the word “girl” is somehow derogatory to women, the truth is I don’t necessarily feel like I am more than a girl yet anyhow. Don’t get me wrong, I am an extremely intelligent and competent woman, but part of me—the part of me that still doesn’t know what I want to be when I grow up despite being nearly 30—is still a girl trying to figure it all out.

“The Girl I Mean to Be” is a song from the 1991 Norman-Simon musical the Secret Garden. “The girl I mean to be,” the blog, will be an outlet for my multiple personalities—the musical theatre geek who longs for a performance outlet; the Anglophile (yes, I spelled theatre the British way—get over it) who loves all things from those lovely Isles; the writer who wishes she had more time to devote to the stories in her head (but also fears letting those stories out—once something is started you must finish, and she is terrified she cannot); the reader who cannot seem to soak up enough imaginary worlds (yet struggles to live in the one she inhabits); the media addict who loves her TV shows, wants to be a screenwriter, owns way too much music (but can’t seem to stop looking for more), and can’t get over her need for pop culture trivia; the cook who longs to be a chef (and longs for an endless pantry of supplies to work with); the feminist who isn’t sure she buys into that label but is emphatic about celebrating the women in her life; the cubicle dweller who longs for travel and adventure; the outward cynic who is really just a hopeless romantic; the daughter and sister who wants to connect more with her family but also keep them a psychologically healthy distance; and the daughter of God who loves His gospel but struggles to live it while trying to find her place in His church. Add puzzles, books, friends, philanthropy, classic films, a mortgage, family history, a healthy dollop of nerdy geekdom, some random spices, and shake not stir. . .

I know we are all a little schizophrenic, but I feel like I am a little more so than the people around me or maybe they hide it better. Either way, welcome to the start of the girl I mean to be (minus the 30 odd years I have been working on it before this).

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