This is Me Breaking the Ice. See?

One of the difficult things in blogging, at least for me, is that if you are away for a while you feel the need, when you come back, to say something Meaningful, or in some way make up for or cover the time you spent in parts unknown. So this hypothetical return starts to swell to "Van Halen Reunion Tour with David Lee Roth" type proportions, and it just seems like a heck of a lot of work, and you put it off, and it ends up in the perpetual possibility of tomorrow.
So...
This is me saying absolutely nothing of consequence, just to get the ball rolling. From here we'll just wing it.

So Hi. Sorry I've been away. How are you?

Much Ado About Nothing

Sorry I am a bit behind the times in posting this; I've been up to my proverbial eyeballs (which are just slightly higher and to the left of my normal eyeballs) in life for the past few weeks.

Ahem.

I am in a play this summer. Right now, actually (well, I mean, not right at this precise moment; I mean we have commenced performances for the season). Specifically, Heritage Theatre's production of Wm. Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. I have a smaller part (a member of the watch...lots of stage time, but not so much dialogue), so don't necessarily come on my account, but it is a pretty solid production. Tickets are a little steep--$18 for "adults" but only $8 for students--so it may also depend on your academic situation or the performance of your mutual funds.

We actually opened last Thursday, so I apologize profusely for being so late in my invitations, and also for being a bit out of circulation for a little while now.

Performance dates are as follows:
Fri. July 14, 8pm
Sun. July 16, 3pm (half price!)
Sat July 22, 8pm
Thurs. July 27, 8pm
Sat. August 5, 8pm
Thur. August 10, 8pm
(no touring dates. Grand Rapids only. Sorry, non-Michigan friends)

More information at the Heritage Website; or, of course, you could post a comment or drop me a line.

Grace be with you all.

A short conversation with God

Me: What would you have me do?
God: Speak the truth.

Not quite so vague a response as it sounds, because to me it carries some specific implications. God's words to me, though often few and simple, tend to be like little prisms, exploding colors and multifaceted images all over the place.

Howl's Moving Castle

I admit that with the scarcity of my posts here, and the lack of information about my "real life", it seems odd that I would break my silence for a film review. However, I would be absolutely remiss if I did not share my discovery of the brilliance that is Hayao Miyizaki's Howl's Moving Castle.
Watch. This. Film.
It is a masterful piece of storytelling from a master storyteller, full of wonder, life, and imagination. The score by Joe Hisaishi (a favorite of mine from Takeshi Kitano's films), the script translation, and even the English voice cast (including Christian Bale)--which can often be groan inducing in other foreign films--are all also worthy of mention.
So when you get the chance, find this film, settle in with a blanket and a friend, and bathe in child's wonder for 119 minutes.

Special Mother's Day Guest Columnist!

Greetings, all! Provoked by a dearth of updates from yours truly, we bring you an entry from a special guest: me own lovely mum.
I've no idea what she's written yet, but she's a better writer than I am, so enjoy....

-------


Tea cups and Roses and a Mother's dreams


Gathering up the ribbons and remnants of breakfast come Monday morning, causes me to pause and reflect. Life with Brian has been a charming adventure. He is my middle son. And this year the responsibilities of the Mother's Day festivities have rested upon his shoulders. Dad has been off doing his spring tour ( no he is not a rock star but an engineer) adding frequent flier miles to his already platinum status. John, the oldest, has been off being all that he can be in the Army. The burdensome task of holiday with MOM has been placed in the skillful hands of Brian and his smiling assistant Dave.

It was a wonderful day. The phone rang early in the morning and it was John wishing me a Happy Mother's day. Brian and Dave entered the room so that I could enjoy the blessing of all three of their voices in the same room ( and not an argument among them!!) From there it was breakfast, I had a handsome butler named Jenkins, with a lovely British accent ala Dave and a breakfast menu to chose from. While I waited for scones with lemon curd and strawberries and melon to be prepared, I was given Godiva chocolates- from Dave, the first of many gifts I was told. Now that is a pleasant way to start Mother's day. The joyful sound of my three sons with coffee and Godiva. Breakfast was delicious hot coffee, warm scones with lemon curd on good china!!! And two hungry sons to share with.

After breakfast Brian skillfully manuevered his way through the day with charming little surprises round every turn. When I went to dress what should I find but a card from Brian and perfume waiting there in the bathroom. It was the exact fragrance that I had mention wanting only a few weeks before. Later when we went out to dinner my heart skipped a beat. Red Lobster, the whole time I was pregnant with Brian, I craved shrimp. Since we were in Florida while I was expecting him, I ate them to my hearts' content. I could not help but smile since seafood always makes me think of the joys of my pregnancy of my second born son.

Later during the meal, Brian pulled out a little black box that was my gift from Travis. My eyes filled with tears as he said this is from Dad. Little did he know that a few years before, in the same restaurant Travis had presented me with a diamond bracelet to celebrate our twentieth anniversary. Now in a loving gesture for his father, he presents my gift for mother's day in the very same fashion. It was a set of beautiful pearl bracelets. Pearls, they speak to me of wisdom, of beauty and of grace. For a tiny little grain of sand to grow to such a thing of beauty. It is amazing to me.

Life is much like that. When I think back to my first mother's day. I was thankful just to have Travis watch over John and allow me the time to shower and do my hair and makeup. Now that was a gift!! Flashbacks and memories flood into my mind. Coupon books and dandelions. Plaster hands and crayola cards. Pretending to sleep while the boys fought QUIETLY to make me a surprise. Spilled coffee on bedsheets because of the traditional mother's day breakfast in bed. Poems and promises and lots of potted plants. Shovels full of dirt for roses and tea parties in the afternoon. Those memories seem faded over time but have become so much more precious.

I can also remember the prayers and the dreams. Oh God give me wisdom, wisdom to raise this precious little life. Wisdom to teach him. I was overwhelmed by all I never seemed to know. And then before I knew it there were two babies. How I held them in my arms and cried out earnestly that God would show me how to raise them, that they would grow to be men of integrity, men of virtue. That some how I could take all the leassons I had learned and help them to learn more, be more, accomplish more, more than I had ever hoped or dared to dream for myself.

The reality is that when you hold your babies you hope and pray and dream but you can never really imagine the men, the women that they shall become. As a Christian parent I have tried to instill in them the importance of devotion to God, through worship, pray and His Word. I have taught them as best I know how to live and love and laugh. I have surrounded them with the things I believe are of merit, value and beauty -books, music, faith and forgiveness, china and sunsets and to stop and smell the roses. I have tried to be genuine, allowing them to see my human frailities and need for dependency upon God. I have prayed for their safety, their sorrows, their strength, their loves and their futures and that above all their lives would give glory to their God.

Mothers sow in prayer and tears, they hope and dream, love and laugh and along the way there are many, many regrets. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. The responsibility of bringing another life into this world is overwhelming. To realize as a mother that you are influencing that infant for a life time can be staggering. It is only through the grace of God that this responsibility and commitment can in any way trully be realized. Have I touched their hearts and shaped things around them in a way that is good and right and pure? Have I honored God with this gift of life that He has entrusted to me?

The chairs are often empty now. And time seems to have slipped by quicker than I ever imagined it could. For some this might imply sorrow and emptiness. Not for me, my heart is full. From the very first moment that John was born, I knew that my babies did not belong to me. I was given the gift of time with them but they were never mine to keep. It was my job to teach them to be polite, to lean on God and stand as men. They are strong now, and independent and they stand in the light of who they see God to be. And the tea cups and the roses... did they make a difference..... you tell me.

The Second Cup by John

A young man sat down and took for himself a pot of tea on the table along with his cup. In the empty chair across from him he took a second cup from the tea set and place it there. He sat looking at it for a while knowing what it was for.
This is my second cup.
This is for the woman who will make my life special.
It is for someone I love.
She'll make me feel l can do anything.
We'll enjoy just being togeher.
When we're sipping that tea
Everything will be all right.
The woman who's out ther
And while he sat there pondering this someone sat down in the empty chair.
"Hello Mom"
And he offered her that second cup.



Untitled by Brian

Just a short stroll, she thougthto herself. It was too lovely a day to remain indoors. Everything seemed s it should be. As she meandered down the path, she couldn't help but feel at peac. The gentle sunshin cascaed through the multicolored branches of the trees. My trees, she thought.The light breeze caused the branches to sway, making the shadows dance all around her. All around her, the feeling of spring was tangible. All of the flowers, the blooms, bursting forth with color. She stopped in front of her favorite, the rosebush near the center of the garden. My rosebush. My garden. She thought of all the time that had gone into it. All the years, starting so small, with so little reward. But standing ther, bathed in light, the troubles faded away, and all the toil seemed to her a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. Absentmindedly she plucked a rose from the bush, and inhaled it fragrance as she stood there. She knew she couldn't stay for long. The children would be coming soon. My children. Even thought they were scarecely children anymore. Sometimes it pained her. She would walk her garden, with small tears in her eyes, because a part of her had left when they had moved on. The thought of all the time, all those years ago, when they were so somall. All that she had given up. But she saw them now, so tall and grown up, now with families of their own, she saw the men that she had raise, and it all seemed a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. She heard a sound coming up the hill, the sound of laughter. Her children, and their children. One last look at her garden, and she went inside, eager to see them again. All grown, with families and lives of their own. But they would always be her little ones.


Rainy weather prevented Brian and I from planting roses this year. John and I both agreed to sit with two cups of tea, reminiscent of our times together.
And the grandchildren among the roses .. that's a dream that must wait for another day.

Happy Birthday!

At 6:10 yesterday evening, Reuben Blythe Armstrong--the firstborn child of the illustrious Aaron and Carleen Armstrong--was brought officially into the world. Congratulations to the proud and loving parents (and especially to Carleen who, let's be honest, had the more difficult half in this endeavor; love you). I think I can go on the record with many others as anticipating "great things" (in many possible senses) for this trio. If you would like to see some snapshots of the strapping young lad, hop on over to the Xanga dimension and pay Aunt Jane a visit.

Long time, I know, since my unsightly mug was seen in these parts (I am, of course, being metaphorical; try to keep up, you in the back there), but, honestly, if I wasn't going to post for this, when would I?
Though actually, I have a few half finished drafts floating around, but once they sit in the open for a little while, they tend to go stale. In the interests of brevity (for me, I mean. my delicate little fingers tend to cramp), allow me to summarize:

In the second most important event of this last trading period, the whole family went down to South Carolina a few weeks back, to attend John's graduation from Basic Training. My guess is that many of you have already heard about said event from my Mom, who is attempting to steal all of my friends by actually...you know...communicating and stuff. John was a little bit tanner, a little bit balder, a little buffer, a little more hoarse, and a lot happier than when I saw him last. Not that he was excessively morose before he joined up, but he definitely seems to have made a place for himself there, and he enjoys it. Pictures to come soon.
As we bopped around that weekend, it seemed we couldn't go two steps without running into someone from John's company (D company, the "Delta Dogs") or his platoon (the "War Dogs"...ask to see my commemorative t-shirt) telling us that John helped them make it through, that he was the most motivated soldier in the company, how he was always keeping everyone going. One guy said they needed to make a plaque for him, and even one of the drill sergeant, in a more relaxed moment, said that John was the reason he came into work in the morning. To all of them, John will forever be "The Motivator", as he was fondly dubbed. (also "Robin", but that's another story)
He's now in AIT for advanced aviation mechanics training (15 more weeks or so), and, like Joseph, seems to be making a name for himself wherever he goes. Anyone surprised? Didn't think so...

Summarize. Summarize summarize.

In the "Hell freezes over" department, I bought a car. Officially, the H.M.A. Winston Churchill, but you can call him Winston. At a later date, I will post pictures and tell the story of how we met. Awwww. (that was Chelle saying "Awwww" in my head, but you all couldn't hear it.)

Work continues to...be work. Many shires and villages of the IT department have been placed under my patronage in the last month, since they let go of the previous IT manager. They tell me I'm doing well. Had my first review last week; got a raise. First solo trip to the Detroit plant yesterday. Now if only I could get past 10 and 11 hour days...

I think I've decided (since this is the part where I veer off into the random and rambling) to never read "theology" books with the words "Hidden" or "Secret" in the title. Unless they're about catacombs. Or buried treasure, I suppose, but since theologies of piracy are hard to come by (a project, Katrina?), I think I am safe.

I am going to be in "Much Ado About Nothing" this summer. Smaller, "due paying" role: a watchman. The "second watchman", actually. It's a more slapstick role, which is something I've never done before; could be fun.

I'm also doing a scene from Richard III for Willows at Cornerstone this year. April 25th, for those of you in the neighborhood; probably my last chance to play my beloved crippled, hunchbacked, manipulative deceiver king. *sniff*

Right. That's probably enough out of me, until I get the hang of this again...probably gonna wake up sore in the morning....*grumble mumble*

My little brother...

...who, incidentally, knows all of the lyrics to "MacArthur Park"...had a dream last night that Christopher Walken hit him over the head with a laundry basket (apparently there was some altercation). That beats anything I've got.
Today was also his half birthday. I got him a 20th anniversary Optimus Prime Transformer figure (which is, if I do say so myself, pretty much the coolest ever), and there was much happiness. Really we don't do half birthdays, but I bought it for him a little while ago, and knew I was never going to make it until August.
I didn't.

Still here

That's about all I got right now. Still here.

"How to do what you love"

I found an interesting article on the above topic. Appropriate, considering how many conversations I've had recently on vocation, calling, the future, etc, etc. I'm not sure I agree with all of his suppositions, and I would hardly consider his advice axiomatic, but some good points, nonetheless.

Just finished watching Bergman's The Seventh Seal (that would be the one with the knight playing chess with Death). I liked it. I will have to think about it, but it wasn't nearly so pretentiously artistic as I have been led to believe (either that, or *I* have become pretentious...don't answer).

Also, as it turns out, science has "proven" that our subconscious mind is better at making decisions. I now have scientific validation for something I've often noticed in myself, where time spent "making a decision" is really just accepting the decision I have already made.
I was just talking about something similar last night with Johanna, about the ideas that seem to spring fully formed from the mind, like Athena in armor, that seem (whether regarding a story, or a poem, or theology) to just fit, almost like self-evident truth. I suppose they're all really the work of what Stephen King called "the blue collar guys", that part of your brain that is always grinding away on something while you are doing something else (as opposed to the glamorous "consciously deep and meaningful thoughts" part of the brain).
Probably why some of my best ideas come while washing dishes or standing in the shower.

In what turned out to be a post mostly about theaters of various sorts...

So I decided to just make a scattered list of complex sentences and sentence fragments to cover anything interesting that may have happened in my life since my last post; I will, of course, miss many of the more interesting points, because of my eccentric memory ("eccentric" stems from the Old Norse for "swiss cheese").

I went to see "The Secret Garden" at GVSU with Amber and Caroline on Amber's birthday; the acting was mediocre, but the singing was superb, making the show well worth seeing (though not as good as CU's).

I've committed to directing a scene for Willows this year, but have taken the underhanded step of casting myself as Richard III, thus beginning my path to villainy (the wooing of Lady Anne scene, for those wondering...now all I need is a Lady Anne); would anyone honestly expect me to direct someone else playing my favorite Shakespearean role?

Continuing in the theatre vein, I saw the One Acts at CU this past weekend, which included pieces directed by old chums Michael Coon (a bizzare but wonderful bit of Japanese parable theatre) and Josh Middleton (an incredibly well written bit about three chimps trying to write Hamlet); much joviality and reuniting with old pals, and so forth.

Also went to see West Side Story (I realize this makes me look incredibly imbalanced, but I'm not...well...not on this point, at least) with Katie; it was...pretty good, and free, which is a good combination (and hey, *I* want to be in America, too).

Jane and I justified seeing "Nanny McPhee" by going together; it was well worth it, and as an added bonus afterwards we solved most of the great conundrums of life (except why it is on button up shirt collars that one side tends to curve down, while the other side curves up...does *anyone* have lead on this one?)

I got a Calvin Library Card, which is good, because they have more books than CU, and don't currently have a prize out for my scalp because of late fees...yet.

I finally bought a Bartlett's; 17th edition, because I didn't like the gold leafing on the 18th.

I'm struck by the fact that none of this can be particularly interesting to anyone, but I am so deep in blood, and all that...

Still no car; first car, then apartment.

Sela Ward is gone from House, God be praised.

On Thursday, I get to go to a psychiatrist (as part of the Mill Steel hiring process, to weed out the psychopaths [at least the less than clever ones], and those who do not play well with others); I'm hoping for the whole treatment, with inkblots and my childhood and everything (sadly, there is no couch, I've heard). I may have to resist the urge to go "Will Hunting" on him.

Ok. I'm stopping. I was going to post this, and then start on a more meaningful entry, freed from mundane considerations. But it's a bit late now. So...um...right. Raincheck?

Been Watching: House, natch
Been Reading: Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder
Been Listening to: Tapestry by Carol King
and Tigerlily by Natalie Merchant

Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams...

Just finished watching Equilibrium (instead of writing a detailed post), an excellent sci-fi/action movie superior, in most respects, to the Matrix movies. I highly recommend it, if that is your cup of tea.
I've also started listening to the Decemberists Picaresque, which finally came in the mail. I'm only halfway through the album, but already I think it's one of the strongest I have heard in the past year or so. A sort of symphonic pirate folk, with tales of love and loss at times almost desperately evocative.

It's felt like an odd couple of weeks. You know those times when you were little (or maybe last week) when you would spin around just to get dizzy, and sometimes your eye would catch something and follow it, and for just a moment, with the turn of your head, you could see the world and not just a blur? That's sort of what life has seemed like--a blur of motion punctuated by the occasional clear image.

Last night was spent cutting out and glueing together Cheat Commandos action playsets and vehicles. Rock, rock on. We have the whole set. Feel free to envy.

Went to see Cornerstone's opera this past Saturday with Jane. Splendid evening, all around, complete with tea in one of North America's coziest sunrooms (which is, I suppose, somewhat wasted on Michigan weather).

Last week I went to the library to do some work, fleeing the havoc that is the IT department where I now reside. It was...nice. Just to be there, surrounded by all the books, was somehow refreshing, like I could breathe easier. You can feel the knowledge radiating from the pages. Do I miss the hallowed halls of higher education and scholarship? I must, or else it wouldn't have felt like a homecoming of sorts. Or at least a reminder, that that world exists, and has a piece of me.

But more on that later. There's always more, and there's always later.

ennui...that's the word for it

I confess that I am filled with an almost insurmountable inertia when I think about writing here (or perhaps anywhere, as those who have engaged in the patience-building task of writing are well aware). I promised Carleen that I would do better with my correspondence this year, and promises made to the expecting mother at a baby shower are extra sacred. By at least 42 percent. If not more.
I am back from Florida, by the by, though I am sure no one thought that I was still there, shucking this life of mine with all its modicum of grandeur to live as a beach bum amongst the splendor of the old Jewish ladies in West Palm Beach. Chelle and I had a splendid time, with much rambling and singing and sleeping in and general pleasantness of being. Travel buddies we remain. Scott and Sarah continue to fall into the not insubstantial but hardly indiscriminate category of favorite people in the world.
I think that's really all for now. Later I will regale you with tales of my decisions about grad school, life, and the monastic existence, but at present you are victim to my unfettered caprice. And my caprice is sleepy.

Oh. Hugh Laurie won the Golden Globe for House. This pleases me on some level, though I did not bother to actually watch. Amber said his acceptance speech convinced her that he and I were twins separated at birth. I can live with that comparison.

fin.

Goodbye, cruel....Michigan

Greetings one and all. It has been quite some time since I have updated, and there are, no doubt, many wonderful and magical tales I should share. But that will have to wait. In just a few moments I will be leaving the bleak, grey skies of Michigan for the slightly less bleak, less grey skies of Indiana, en route to the bright, sunny, hurricane-laden air of Florida. Chelle and I are spending New Years with fellow Oxonians Scott and Sarah. Happiness ensues.
See you all on the other side.

Prideful and Prejudicial Thoughts

Jane and I went to go see the new theatrical release of Pride and Prejudice this afternoon (my first time, her second), and though I loathe the idea of structuring a formal review, I thought I would share some of my random thoughts on the matter (the "original" BBC production being one of my favorite films of all time).

Good things of note:

-The film had a good bit of life and energy to it. The world of the film looked "lived-in", with folks living their lives, rather than prancing about on Georgian set pieces. Things got dirty, hair got mussed, and so forth. And the ball scenes were turned to 11.
-They conveyed well the disparity in wealth and status between the Bennets and the upper social circles. Admittedly, this was a bit heavy handed, as the Bennets came off a bit shabbier and more working class than Austen probably intended, but, honestly, subtlety is not the strong suit of the average moviegoer, so I think this was probably a necessary evil.
-It was nice, too, to see girls who looked roughly the ages the characters were supposed to be, acting roughly that age. Granted, the giggling and general goings on was a bit thick at times, but not completely out of line. And they did actually attempt to make Jane prettier than Lizzie.
-Wickham, though his presence is scarce, manages to be as dashing and likable as he *should* be. The BBC's Wickham was, let's face it, well-acted, but average slouching towards homely.
-Beautiful sets.
-Nice cinematography, though a bit claustrophic early on.
-ummmm......Oh. My beloved Netherfield ball scene with Darcy and Lizzy was different, but still one of the highlights.

And now, the BAD things of note:
-BINGLEY. Words fail me. At best I can call Bingley an idiot. And I mean this in the classic mentally infirm, wandering the town drooling and muttering to the pigeons sense of the term. He was more Darcy's ward, lapdog, or incompetant nephew lackey than his friend (although there is one cute scene where he is rehearsing with Darcy what he will say to Jane), and he was neither handsome, gentlemanly, or affable.
-Darcy is, well, not bad, but bland. Here we have not an intense and principled but prideful man who changes for the better because of love, but kind of an awkward, stuffy kind of guy who is sort of misunderstood. I know, I know, I am a Colin Firth fanboy (though Jane called him "stiff" as Darcy), but when he was on screen you knew he was *about something*; give me some tortured brooding or something here. Interestingly, this film hits the attraction between Darcy and Lizzie rather early, but does little to develop him; if we didn't "know" that he ends up with Lizzie, we just wouldn't care.
-The first proposal. Outside in the rain? An almost kiss? Enough said. Maybe not. I also thought their argument, and The Letter which follows, lacked the depth and levels it needed.
-The second proposal too, actually. The bridge seemed to be stolen from Anne of Avonlea, and did we really need a solid minute of Darcy striding through the mist with his shirt open, as the music swells?
-The Wickham scenario, which is supposed to be the conflict of the end of the story, ends almost before it begins. Its import is lost, and here serves as much to marry off Lydia as bring Darcy and Lizzie together.
-Actually, I thought the whole Change (Darcy towards most everything, and Lizzie towards Darcy) was lacking. It seemed undercut by a dozen little things, from plotting to dialogue downward, and almost comes off as more of a misunderstanding or a foregone conclusion than anything else.
-Wasted time (and I am not talking about the multiple shots of the world spinning round and round the *allegedly* gorgeous Kiera Knightley). What Emma Thompson did BRILLIANTLY in Sense and Sensibility was establishing solid characters with little moments, and use of wonderful, witty, Austen-esque (if not actually Austen) dialogue. There seems to be a lot of wasted space for just about all the characters, here. And the dialogue in general was sort of sub-par, and some of it oddly placed.
-Instead of sarcastic Dad and shrewish Mum, we get passive faded Dad and simpleton Mum.
-Lizzie seems a bit less...bemused...in this one. Less kind but quick-witted connoisseur of human folly we have come to expect, and a bit more a stubborn, sharp tongued teenager. Perhaps this subjective, though.

You know, I could probably go on about this for a while, and honestly I keep thinking of more stuff as the evening goes on (barely scratched the surface earlier, Jane), but I will just stop here in the middle, because I have no desire to go through the whole thing a point at a time.
Honestly it wasn't a bad little film, despite what all the above may lead you to believe. But it is, I fear, ancillary. P&P "Lite", or with all the sharp corners worn off.
Two and a half pancakes out of five, maybe? Three? And honestly, it may not be possible to come up with a two hour version that will truly satisfy. (I'd like to see what Emma Thompson would have done with it, though).
Any thoughts?

Differential Diagnosis, People

Today, I am sick. I even stayed home from work. I had actually intended to work from home despite it all, but I slept a large part of the day, and really had neither the inclination nor the motivation to get started on anything. I tried. Honest.
And I sound something like a cross between Johnny Cash and Janis Joplin.
I also realized that I have no "sick traditions"; you know how some people watch Gone with the Wind or read tax law or something every time they are incapacitated? So I decided to start one. There is something so appropriate and comforting lying in bed watching episodes of House when you don't feel well. I even had my cane. But just to reach things so I needn't get up.
Honest.

Happy...um....Between Holidays Day!

Greetings and salutations, one and all.
Just a short entry tonight, because, although it is late and I must reluctantly rise early, I knew that if I did nothing to break the inertia of having not posted in so long, I might *never have written again*. Ever. The problem is, you see, once you let it slip by for a little bit, you feel the need to post something comprehensive, or at least interesting, to justify your absence. And as the events of life stack up, your imaginary tome grows longer, and more complex, until even the ghost of James Joyce appears by your bedside one night shaking his head somberly and saying "Just forget it. It's not worth it."
So, that being said, I may go into some of the interesting things (wait...what were they again...) that have happened in the meantime, but more likely I will simply continue to ramble on randomly as I always have.

I had a spinach salad with mandarin oranges and raisins for dinner tonight; it was actually pretty good, but I am already hungry again. You see, I've decided to try something of an experiment: between now and the end of the year, I am going to try to subsist on only fruits and vegetables. With the occasional fish for protein. And this may not include lunch meetings. Or Christmas. I haven't figured it out yet. Partly I want to see how quickly I can drop the few pounds I have picked up since Oxford, but partly I am just curious to see how I feel.
And, while this idea was not strictly spiritual in its inception, we are physical beings, so it all works together; I think perhaps God will teach me some things through the hunger, and the denial.
We'll see how it works out.

My brother John is officially a part of the United States Army. He finally triumphed over all the red tape and bureaucracy, and was sworn in on Monday. He ships out for boot camp right after the New Year, and, instead of working on helicopters as was planned previously, he will now (a blessing of the delay, I suppose) be working on jet aircraft. I believe that, by many accepted standards, John is now the Coolest Person I Know. On further inspection, being an aircraft mechanic is actually better than being a pilot, because 1)The pilots know you keep them alive, and treat you well and buy you drinks, and 2)There is far less risk of exploding or ramming into things at extreme velocities.
So here's to you, Sarge. *clink*

Speaking of velocity...I have been mulling over Special and General Relativity here and there, recently. I think I almost understand (you know the difference between knowing *that* something works, like a formula or something, and really getting your mind inside of it, when suddenly you really *get* it, and that little light goes off, and the kazoos start playing, and...right), but I still have some snags. Not that I think I've bested Einstein, or anything, but there are some things that simply don't seem to work out. I'm guessing it's just me. Perhaps more on this later.

I tried to catch up on some of my correspondence tonight. Something of a lost cause. Essentially just writing "Thank you for calling, please hold" numerous times. (BTW, Christy: I've misplaced your email address, and your don't allow comments on your blog. What up with that, yo? *Ahem*)

Oh, and I went to the Society of Biblical Literature conference in Philadelphia the other weekend.
And I had Thanksgiving.

Grace be with you all, because I am going to bed.

Brian

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Although I suppose technically, since it is past midnight, it is the Day After Guy Fawkes Day.
Today was also my friend Melissa's wedding, in which I was an usher (I even got to go to my first wedding rehearsal on Friday). Despite some small issues--such as the unity candle not lighting, and the best man initially handing the minister (Jeremy Grinnel, for those who know him) a Ring Pop instead of the rings--it was a beautiful service. The reception was fun, spending time with some great people I don't get to see often enough.
Afterwards, because the reception was short, the night was young, and I was wearing a suit, Katie, Racie, Angela and I were considering a movie (Isaac couldn't come because his wife Lisa had promised them elsewhere, and she is responsible). By the time we left the chapel, it was raining, so I pulled to the curb and picked up Racie. By the time we got to the theatre just a few minutes away, it was *pouring*; after I dropped Racie at the curb, I had to park waaay in the boondocks, so I was absolutely soaked (in suit and tie and bouttoniere).
We had to wait for the good movies to start, so after watching previews for a while, we went back to Racie's apartment (to drop off THE bouquet that she caught, and to pick up a coat), then to CU to hang out and Katie's apartment (fun was had, and both pictures and class surveys were taken), then drop off Angela (she had to work early), then back the the theatre (the rain had, mercifully, stopped before all these events.
We ended up seeing Elizabethtown, which was very good but almost great, and the sort of movie that makes you think about life, and I may talk about it at some point in the future when I am more coherent.
From there we went to coffee, but coffee turned into dessert and dessert to dinner and then dessert, because we were hungry. Many stories and laughs and much good conversation.
And then I went home.
And here I sit, sleepy and pretty well contented for a day.

And here's two pennies: one for your thoughts, and the one for the old guy.

"Remember, remember the 3rd of November"

I think that perhaps, taken together, all the little thoughts I have been having about my life might add up to something worth mentioning. But I had a twelve hour workday today, I am tired, and I just spent an hour and a half on the phone with Scott, brainstorming about the movie ("The Flautist") we are apparently making when Chelle and I go down to Florida. (I wonder that perhaps our styles and creative visions may not mesh; mine is more "Takeshi Kitano meets Garden State", and his is more "Wes Anderson on Valium and psychedelic mushrooms." We did manage a plot, theme, and a whole mess of characterization, though. Time will tell.)

Today I had my very first flat tire ever, on the way to work. Sans cell phone, no less.

Yesterday I found one of my old journals. Shouldn't I have an advantage on the guy who wrote them? And yet it seems I could learn from him, spiritually, mentally, emotionally.

I have decided to apply to Notre Dame, amongst perhaps some other American grad schools.

And yet, I am less certain about grad school than I have been. Or at least, more willing to be less certain. I don't want to simply be trying to buy time, delaying the unfortunate inevitability of decision. Or going by default, because I see nothing else. ("I guess I will go to grad school." "I suppose I will teach."--my words.) I want to be willing to say "I don't know", and accept the future as a blank canvas that God and I have to go about filling in.
I haven't the foggiest what I might do instead, or what may be out there for me, but I will never see anything staring at my feet. Expanding my options, me. And it may very well be in the end I find myself right back here, and going off to Oxford or Notre Dame, but it will be for the right reasons, and because I chose it. "The end of all our exploring," said Eliot,"will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

I could live with that.

Vienna Teng. Live. In Person.

Just a short entry tonight, but I must write something, because if I am not going to write about seeing Vienna Teng in concert, what *will* I write about?
Many of my friends and most semi-longterm readers of this blog will know that I have been carrying on a love affair with her music for quite some time, and tonight I had the pleasure of seeing her in concert for the first time. Johanna, Katie and I (Chelle, oh Chelle, we missed you so) made the trek out to a little coffee shop in north Lansing where she was performing.
Enchanting. Absolutely. She sings like an angel, plays like a virtuoso, and writes like a Muse (ok...maybe I am exaggerating a little...but not much). For those who have never heard her, for the love of all that is good and beautiful find one of her cds, and listen to it (in that order).
For those who *have* heard her: I think she is even better live. She has a wonderful stage presence, and she had a good rapport with the audience (though perhaps the small venue size helped), taking requests, telling stories (explaining how all her songs are like people, and sometimes they are not on speaking terms), and even had us sing the chorus parts of "Soon Love Soon" (when a cell phone went off at the end of a song, she told the unknown owner that they were "damned lucky it was in the same key"...though other than that the audience was wonderful, except for that somewhat annoying official photographer guy clicking away)(I just noticed that the preceding sentence was very long). She played some of her new, as-yet-unreleased material (of which the best was "Blue Caravan", our trio decided), and it was interesting to see how well she adapted some of the "bigger" songs to just her and the piano. She sang a lovely Chinese folk song acappella as an encore.
As we filed out, I bought a cd from her opening act (David Berkeley, a singer songwriter with hints of both Jim Croce and Damien Rice) and some Official Vienna Teng Stickers (one is for you, Chelle) because all her t-shirts were extra-large (why am I explaining all this? is it interesting? ok). As we walked down the street, we all agreed it was amazing. Amazing squared, even. It could have been amazing cubed, quoth I, if we had actually gotten a chance to meet her. What's that, Katie? She was at one of those tables autographing cd covers?
And so we skipped (figuratively...stay with me here) back to the car to grab my cds. When we got back, the line was almost gone. I even let some other chap go ahead of me.
At this point I feel the need to explain. I had actually thought of what I would say to her if just such an occasion were to arise (because this is how my mind works); it had occurred to me in the middle of the concert. I had just discovered her before I went off to Oxford (Days before, in fact). And during my semester, as I walked the miles and rode the buses with my faithful MP3 player and headphones, she became the soundtrack to my time there. Her songs are almost inextricably linked to those memories, and that part of my life (Chelle? Agreement?).
Now, the problem is that I didn't actually think I would meet her once we left, and when we rushed back inside and I actually did, I was caught off guard. It's a bit like going to talk to someone whose office is on the 11th floor, and suddenly the elevator on the first floor opens, and there they are, not where they are supposed to be, and your well conceived train of thought derails, and the stammering begins. Right.
Anyway, Johanna and Katie insist I did not *sound* semi-literate or developmentally challenged, but it felt that way as I managed an awkward "It's nice to meet you." (which she returned, with a handshake.) It was...odd...trying to connect this person to music and a voice I felt I knew already almost as a friend. Anyway I did manage to get out a sentence or two about the whole Oxford thing, we talked for a few moments and she seemed very nice, and she signed my cd covers before we left. (And let's be honest: I have a slight crush, and I just wanted to come off like Cary Grant...next time, maybe...)

So all in all a wonderful time was had by all, and, goodness, it's late all of a sudden. I never seem to have enough time for these things, though I suppose I was rambling anyway. Though I must be off, I know I have emails and/or comments to send out to people. Watch your mailboxes, and the comment section of previous posts, I suppose.

Grace,
Brian

Well

It's getting to be that time again, that time when Mom asks me several times a day when I am going to update my blog. I suppose that is a reasonable request (for request we know it it), considering I have not posted anything substantive in quite a while, and not posted regularly in...well...ever.
One of the difficulties is that I am, at times, a bit like Lizzy Bennett, and unlikely to say anything unless it will amaze the whole room. It seems there are lots of small things, tales or stories or musings I could write about, and even intend to at the time, but I tuck them away like little fireflies caught in a jar; when I come back to them later, their already meagre light has been extinguished, and there seems little point. Yes, yes, from now on strike while the iron is hot, and carpe diem, while Robert Herrick laughs maniacally, and all that...

Work continues to grind on, more good than bad, and the only real bad coming from things it cannot help, that it *is* work, and that it requires me to get up early, and sit reasonably still all day long, and so on. My boss continues to outsource anything deemed remotely "creative" to me, and indulges and even encourages my peculiar sensibilities. For example:
I made this
as part of a survey that went out to the *entire company*. And there are scads more examples, as I find myself doing web design, hints of marketing, recruiting...even an official cartoon character/comics strip (and I promise if I finally get Norman up and running, you will all [whoever 'you' may represent at this point in time] get to see him).
This past week we were at the Grand Valley career fair, meeting nervous college students clutching their resumes in their sometimes ill-fitting suits, hawking the Mill Steel Open House, and, of course, giving away kitschy merchandise (pens, mints, hats, etc). Things were a rousing success, and I was actually something of an evil mastermind behind it, in charge of all the promotional material (my handouts and fliers were deemed genius by...well...Nick, at least), our setup design, and the aforementioned kitschy freebees. Of the latter, the official Mill Steel socks (I am not making this up), my personal favorites, became the *absolute star of the fair*, in all their offbeat glory. We had other employer coming from across the hall to get some, because word had spread. The Aflac guy traded one of his talking ducks (which we christened "Socks") for two pairs of his very own.
Right. I was just going to summarize there, rather than tell the whole story. Seems I've managed something in between.

Oh, yes: Chelle and I are going down to see Scott and Sarah in Florida over New Years. We had been talking about it for a while, but in a fit of semi-planned impulse, we bought some (relatively cheap) plane tickets this past Friday (and before that, we even get to ride a train again). Old friends, a journey, and my birthplace...sounds like a fine idea.

--------
I feel this need in my life to simplify--everything--even as grad school looms and I continue to wonder what it is I really *want* and why and...But life keeps moving, refusing to stop, and give me a chance to think. But honestly, I don't know if that would make any difference. Here's to getting lost in fields of flowers, and finding your way home. *clink*

Well, more to say, no doubt, but it's getting late, and as I had no real point in starting, or destination, I suppose I can end wherever I want to. Which is right......

...here.