It's peaceful. It's magical. It's beautiful. Ladies and gentlemen of the world...it's snow!
Tonight, it started snowing. Sometimes it was gently floating, and others it was fluttering along with the wind.
Snow! Charming, graceful, falling white puffs. Every year, when the first snow comes, I grab my music player (from cassette tapes, to CD's, to an Ipod now), and I take a walk. I listen to my favorite Christmas album ("A Christmas Story" by Point of Grace) as I watch the snow glisten and glitter on its way down to earth. I look up and see a sky plastered with white fluff-balls coming at me. Then I look down and see the street glittering and the cracks in the sidewalk filled with the glistening snow.
Giggling and skipping down the path, I bounced along the sidewalk, walking through a sea of swimming white fluff. When they landed on my jacket, I would stop to study them.
Have you ever looked at snow? Not just watched it fall down, but actually take a close-up look? Snow is beautiful! It's exactly like we used to draw snowflakes in kindergarten, or cut them out of coffee filters.
To some, snow is a nuisance that just adds to the stress of rush-hour traffic driving and makes them mutter as they bundle up, not wanting to deal with the cold.
Not me! I embrace the cold! I'm not saying I don't have times where I loath going out in frigid temperatures. But really, I love the cold! It's the chance to bring out classic fashions, like the scarf, mittens, and earmuffs.
Even without the fashion of winter, there's a romance and magic about the snow. Grinning from ear-to-ear, you can't help but just stop and stare at the beauty that surrounds you.
Snow! It holds an piece my heart that nothing else does. I get filled with so much excitement I tend to squeal, giggle, laugh, and sing.
The only thing I could think of tonight while on my walk was just simply "Snow!" My God is so great, and gives us this gift every year, whether in bucket-loads of it, or, like tonight, just graceful and simple quantities. No matter the amount, His beauty is always there, and all you have to do is look and enjoy it.
Autumn brings out a subdued, nostalgic, and subtle side of me. It's a rarity, for sure, being as that I tend to reside on the crazy, loud, and quirky side. But come the time where leaves turn pretty colors and the temperature grows closer towards freezing, I become quieter. I become less overly-enthused, and more towards appreciative and relaxed. I wonder why this is, much of the time. It's not that I enjoy life less, or that I don't like the autumn. It's just a different phase of the year. I feel a little more sadness, but still mixed in with a smiling heart, somehow.
I love the vibrant reds and oranges that surround me, with the still-green evergreens that are interspersed between. I enjoy walking through the crisp, cool air, reminding that winter is just around the corner. I still like the feel of crunched leaves under my feet, although lately they've been soppy and wet.
But there's something in my heart that feels like it's missing the warmth and energy of summer.
It's always around this time that I start yearning to go back to so many places...the places I've called "home", whether temporarily or permanently, in my heart.
McGregor is one of them. Specifically my grandparents. With their many acres of pasture, ponds, dirt and gravel paths all enclosed within a beautiful forest, it's hard to stay away...especially during the autumn. And although my heart yearns to be up there, I know it's not the same as when I was 15, and stayed there...just me and the grandparents. So quiet, peaceful, and serene.
Bismarck is another. I think it comes from the memories of my senior year, which I have concurred was one of the best anyone could ever hope for. I long to drive up and down River Road, even though most of it's closed currently for construction. I wish desperately to just feel like I am home again, cuddled in my own home out in the country. I miss being in high school, going to "the bowl" for football and soccer games, and just plain being at Century High with all of my friends.
It's a mystery to me, but this time of year I always feel this way. Maybe it's God's way of quieting my heart, I don't know. And in feeling this way, I couldn't help but write about it, just wondering if maybe other people feel this way, too?.....
Life is full of good quotes. It was JFK that said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." FDR uttered the famous words, "a date which will live in infamy." Obama overused the saying "Yes, we can!" (Bob the builder anyone?)
But how many times do you stop to admire the great quotes that come out of the media that surrounds us. Song lyrics and film quotes are continually overlooked in favor of Presidential speeches, campaign slogans, and inspirational quotes.
So I have compiled a list of some of my favorite lines from films and songs, sharing the joy and perplexity they bring. (In no particular order, of course. It would be far too difficult to rate them.)
1) The song by Bruises by Chairlift is an upbeat, foot-tapping song, which is cute and sweet...pun intended. "I grabbed some frozen strawberries so I could ice your bruising knees But frozen things they all unfreeze and now I taste like.... All those frozen strawberries I used to chill your bruising knees, Hot July ain't good to me I'm pink and black and blue for you."
2) Those who have watched any of the Ocean's movies know that their thief-jargon is perhaps the greatest mystery of all-time in films. It's a quirk that makes those movies original and funny...and always keeps you wondering, "what does it really mean?" Although I could share far greater than a dozen of those lines, I will only include a few, since just having one wouldn't suffice. In Ocean's 12, Tess, played by the lovely Julia Roberts, hints in code to her husband Danny (George Clooney)that her ex-lover and Danny's former victim has come for revenge. The Line: "Oh no...Danny....There's water in the basement and the pilot light is out."
3) Ocean's eleven was a mastermind that still keeps me wondering how they pulled off all of their tricks. In the beginning, while trying to assemble a team, Rusty (Brad Pitt) lists off jargon names of people he thinks they'll need. "You'll need a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethro's, a Leon Spinx, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever."
4) My all-time favorite conversation exchange takes place in the Ocean's 12. Matt Damon (the 'rookie' rolling for leadership), Brad Pitt (the #2-man) and George Clooney (the boss), meet a character named Matsui at a local bar to bargain a deal for a heist. The following three lines will boggle your mind until you can't think straight. Rusty (Brad Pitt) says: "A doctor, who specializes in skin diseases, will dream he has fallen asleep in front of the television. Later, he will wake up in front of the television, but not remember his dream." Danny Ocean (Clooney) follows by saying, "If all the animals along the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same day." Matsui then says, "When I was four years old, I watched my mother kill a spider... with a teacozy. Years later, I realized it was not a spider - it was my Uncle Harold."
The brilliance of those three lines was that it's meant as a coded conversation...a way for the thieves to talk business in a public setting. If you haven't seen the movies yet, watch them ASAP. Worth every moment of your time.
5)If Tina Fey could bottle and sell her comedy, it would come out in the best "stupid lines" in a conversation, greatly portrayed in the film, "Mean Girls," which her screenplay bore. "Mean Girls" has become the new and improved "Napolean Dynamite," as teenagers and adults alike quote the movie more than they quote themselves. With lines like "If you're from Africa, why are you white?", "I wanna lose three pounds," and "I have a fifth sense," teenagers across America have snatched up the hilarious comedy and plugged it into their own dialect.
6) Adam Young, creator and mastermind of his one-man-band entitled "Owl City" has inspired a new age of electric pop lyrics. His sweet-nothing type lyrics take us on a fantasy ride through many-a-different universe's. In his song entitled "On the wing," lyrics sing and tweet a quirky message. "Breathe and I'll carry you away, into the velvet sky. And we'll stir the stars around, and watch them fall away into the Hudson Bay and plummet out of sight and sound."
7) A new favorite duo of mine is a couple, who entitled themselves "Luke and Drew." The name is lacking in luster, but their music is something like you've never heard before, and the back-story to this singing duo is quite cute. Both Luke and Drew have considered themselves "artists," and like to find different avenues of art (both physical and non) to express themselves. The story goes that after a fight the two had, Luke needed to express how much he loved Drew. He sat down with a guitar that night and whipped out the tune "Song About You." After he sang it to Drew, she fell in love with it, and more so-with Luke, as well, they started writing songs together. Not too long after, Luke proposed to Drew, and the two began their recording and touring debut as "Luke and Drew." (who are now officially "Luke and Drew Goddard". Congratulations!) Their songs and lyrics more-so reflect the joy and love one finds in their soul-mate. Some of my favorite lyrics are from their song "Our Own Little World." "I can't wait to wake up beside you and take you by the hand. And walk you into our cozy little bathroom and brush our teeth together. Or how about when we make our first grocery list. We'll hop in the car and ride to the market and buy what's on our list. It'll be our own little world, it'll be our own little world, it'll be our own little world...I can't wait. I can't wait!" Those lyrics seem like they were ripped straight out of a love-letter, and embrace what true love really is. True love isn't always high-romance, a hundred thousand rose-pedals, champaigne and wine, type of love we often think it is. Most often, it's just being with the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life, and the lyrics of that song bring to life what I believe true love is supposed to be.
By the way, if you'd like to see their proposal video that Luke recorded, it's right below. It's more than worth your time to watch it. :-)
8)One of my favorite memories of high school was singing in our choir. Our songs ranged everything between pop and musicals to classical and new age pieces. But one of my all-time favorite songs we performed was by a fabulous composer named Eric Whitacre. (Follow him at @ericwhitacre, or his blog www.soaringleap.com) The song we sang was one of his first pieces, entitled "Sleep." The song is about just that...sleep. The lyrics that he wove were magical and brought me into a world where I felt calm. Here are some of my favorites from that song. "The evening hangs beneath the moon. A silver thread on darkened doon. With closing eyes and resting, head I know that sleep is coming soon. Upon my pillow safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head. I cannot sleep, my mind's aflight, and yet my limbs seem made of lead." And my all time favorite line: "Then I surrender unto sleep, where clouds of dream give second sight. What dreams may come both dark and dep, of flying wings and soaring leap. As I surrender unto sleep."
9) Emily Dickinson kept it short and sweet, but yet profound and beautiful in her poem "I Have No Life But This." "I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come, Nor action new, Except through this extent, The Realm of You!"
10) Perhaps the greatest writers of all time weren't of this age. In a land now known as Israel, in a time far far away, a Psalmist named David wrote what is possibly the most widely known Psalm in the history of the world. The serene imagery and the peacefulness of this verse is arguably the best any human has ever written.
Psalm 23 "The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."
So there is my ode to great lyrics and lines. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
It was fifth grade. I had just gotten my first ever CD player, and was really into Leann Rhimes and Deanna Carter. And that's the last I ever considered myself a country fan.
Those of my friends who love country know that I don't, and usually make it a point to play other music while I'm chillin' in their car. But lately, there's one artist that has recently made me cross over again. And that's the ever-so-popular Taylor Swift.
Taylor Swift was an artist I hated for two reasons. 1) She was a country singer. (Yes, I dislike country that much.) 2) She was everyone's favorite. And I hate copying people.
But somehow, this girl, whose second album which went quadruple platinum, has captured my listening attention as well as my heart.
Taylor's music is good country, meaning she's not too country, and just enough pop in it to make it cute and listening worthy. Not only that, her lyrics speak volumes about what it's like to be a teenager. "Fifteen" for example speaks about her and her best friend Abigail when they were 15, and the mistakes they hope others will avoid. "You belong with me," is a top favorite, which conveys a story about the not-so-popular girl and the boy who's dating the mean and preppy cheerleader.
Back in the day, there was a song by country-star Leann Rhimes that went "don't ever lose that light in your eyes." That light in Taylor's eyes is clearly evident every time she gets up to sing her music. Every time this beautiful girl performs, whether it's a small acoustic set or a crazy subway ride, she radiates from the stage and into her audience all across the nation. Despite being rattled by Kanye Wests' recent display of rudeness, Taylor put on her "performance" face and had the best subway ride of her life. With hundreds of fans surrounding and singing along her, she rode the subway and sang her hit song "You Belong With Me," then exited to find herself in front of Radio City Music Hall on top of a taxi, again, surrounded by more fans. It was by far the craziest and most fun performance I've seen in a long time, because in those moments, you realized that singing that music gave her such joy. And sharing that joy with hundreds of her fans in the middle of New York City is something she will cherish for a long time. Two days after the VMA awards, Taylor Swift performed again on The View. Those performances of "Fifteen" and "You Belong With Me" were just as impressive as the subway ride. When she sang "You Belong With Me," she beamed with joy, like singing that song was what she was made to do, and she was reminding herself of just how blessed she is. And she just loves to have fun with her music, just like the rest of us do when it comes on the radio: we blast it and sing (or screech) along with it.
Taylor is just a down-to-earth girl who acts just like all the rest of us "teenagers at heart." What attracted me at first to her music wasn't her music at all, actually; I had found a video blog she had posted on Youtube. The fact she video blogs, and shows just how much crazy-fun she has, makes her so much more relatable. It was those videoblogs that made me listen to her music...and I gradually came to love a singer who considers herself a country singer. If you haven't looked for any of her video blogs on youtube, you should immediately watch it below.
Lastly, Taylor is a humble, modest, and poised young lady who deserves appreciation. The whole "Kanye West" show during the VMA's would be enough to make me start bawling, or at least slap him silly. But she just stood there, and although rattled, didn't fight back and let Kanye be his rude and self-centered self. Later, on an interview on "The View," speaking about winning the VMA and Kanye, she quoted her process of thinking as "wow, I can't believe I won! This is awesome! Don't trip and fall. I'm gonna get to thank the fans this is so cool. Oh, Kanye West is here! Cool haircut. What are ya doing...ouch...I guess I'm not going to get to thank the fans." Taylor loves her fans. On the first time ever a country music singer wins a VMA, it wasn't about how awesome she is or even how much she loves her family...it's "Thanks to the fans." Later on, Beyonce herself showed poise and self-sacrifice when she gave up her award speech time to Taylor Swift, so she could then, not dis Kanye West, but to say "I'd like to thank all the fans on twitter and myspace, and everyone who came out to my shows this summer." Showing complete grace and poise in the situation, she never once bashed Kanye West for his display of rudeness. Instead, she said, "I can't say I wasn't rattled, but if he wants to say hi, then sure." Obviously not wanting to say anything negative about West, she held her own and handled the whole ordeal with the upmost grace and poise - something most 19-year-olds don't know how to do....and even some celebrities.
So, after about 6 months, my thought process about Taylor Swift goes like this. "I hate country music, including Taylor Swift. I will put up with Taylor Swift's music. She has the sweetest video blogs. Hey, her music's actually pretty good. Wow, she is talented. Nice hair. Hey, she's actually a stand-up-girl too! Guess I get to thank her for being an inspiration."
Tennyson wrote, "It is better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all." What a powerful statement; yet so difficult to embrace. I love to love. I truly believe I am a loving and caring person, and that's something God has blessed me with. However, it's the times when we've lost that we feel Tennyson really wasn't so wise.
My dog is in his old age. I have had him for over a decade now. I got him when he was just a wee little pup. I (along with the help of my gracious and patient parents) potty trained him and taught him how to sit, stay, and shake. For years, he has been my comfort. When he was younger, he would jump up on my bed and lay by my side through the entire night, curled up along the inside of my legs or right by my face. Then in the mornings, he'd wake me with a kiss, whether I liked it or not. For years, I've curled up beside him and hugged him when I needed a quiet companion. He's laid on my lap during family trips, and went for walks with me when I needed protection...although he was never much of a protector, since he's one of the friendliest dogs I've ever known. There was one time I can remember like it was yesterday. Our family had just moved out of the home I had known for the past 8 years. That was the house I grew up in. There were markings on the wall of my height. I knew the creeks and cricks of the stairway so I could slither down them in the middle of the night without waking anybody up. And when I entered, it was home. Then, towards the beginning of my ninth grade year, we had to move out, as it was the church parsonage, and the new pastor would be moving in shortly. It was winter, I think near November. The ground was white with sparkling snow, and I needed to go for a walk. I brought my dog with, since after dark my mother liked knowing there was something "protecting" me while I was out. In that walk, I meandered towards the parsonage, since it wasn't that far of a walk. Once I got there, I remember staring through the window. My heart sank as I began to understand that it wasn't my home anymore, and it would never be again. I peered inside the window, glancing around my old kitchen...where the table used to be, where the refrigerator sat. And my heart broke into pieces. Tears streamed down my face as my body sunk down onto the cold cement steps. And Sonny came crawling up to me, put his paws in my lap, and gave my cheeks some of his slobbery-wet kisses. I hugged him like he was the only thing left in my life, and we just sat there, in front of my old house together. Just like I used to do with him, when I first brought him home as a puppy. I would lay down with him in the middle of the night as he whimpered, scared of his new surroundings. This time, it was me that needed the comforting, and he was there. It's as if he sensed it, or knew it. He knew that I needed him there sitting with me at that moment.
Lately, in the past year or so, he's gotten too old to really run around like he used to. It's more difficult for him to climb the stairs, go for a run, or even a long walk. And more recently, he's been not up to par. My dad took him into the vet, and what she said is that he has a genetic disease, found in Cocker-spaniel's like my own, which eats away all the red blood cells. He's also has a heart murmur, which is common in older dogs.
He's currently medicated, and is "feeling better." The vet doesn't know how long he really has. She said if things go well, he still has a number of years left. But if not, if my Sonny baby runs too hard or gets stressed, the heart can go into a cardiac arrest.
I've known this has been coming. And I haven't taken his presence for granted. But sometimes, I just have to wonder....is it really worth it to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all - especially when considering pets? My heart hurts. My sonny baby has been my companion. He greets me with great joy when I come home, and sits in great sorrow when I leave. He has been a part of my life since I was twelve. He has been there through every move my family has made, and has laid on my lap as I've cried tears into his fluffy, white fur. He's been there to make me laugh with his silly quirks, and makes me smile from ear to ear when I mention "Do you wanna go for a ride?" in which he goes nuts, almost yelping out "yes, of course! oh take me with you! take me with you! Can I go?! Please mama?"
Saying goodbye to your dog is like having to say goodbye to a close member of your family. Your heart aches the same; You grieve the same; You miss their presence the same.
And although I do believe Tennyson was right, there are times when your heart will tell you it's not.
I love the color blue. I apparently love it so much I am writing about it. But the reason why I love it so much has more to do with it's versatility and beauty than just the fact that "it's my favorite color."
This has probably been one of the oddest topics I've ever written about, but for some reason it kept coming to me. So here I am, writing to you about how one color has made such an impact. Yes, odd it is, indeed.
Blue. It's the color of the ocean, the sky, and so much more...including my bedroom, currently. I recently painted my room blue and beige. I'm told they are the two most relaxing colors, and since relaxing is what you're really supposed to do in your bedroom, I decided to give them a go. I figured I'd put my creative mind to the test when I decided to mix those two colors to create an "on the beach" type of feel.
Growing up in Minnesota, I find myself drawn to the water. Two of my summers have been spent by a lake at a Bible camp, while countless other weekends have been spent at various lake cabins, lake-side campgrounds, and even paddling down the river. But it wasn't until just over two years ago when my family traveled to California where I discovered my love for the ocean. Even while we were there, I found myself constantly drawn to the beach-side for the calm and serene, yet powerful view. The waves crashing, the feel of the sand on your feet; It was then that I fell in love with the ocean.
So back to my room. They say your room should be a safe-haven, a quite resting place you can escape to when you need your alone time. It should be a place you feel comfortable and at peace. For me, it was the ocean.
Both interior designers and fashion designers alike have said that blue is one of the most versatile colors. It's easy to match, and in one shade, you get a color that has different emotions all blended as one.
My room is that versatile. I have only had my room like this for just a few short days, but already there's an understanding of just how one color can make you feel so differently. My shade of blue is bright and bouncy, yet deep and rich. It's happy and giddy, but also melancholy and thoughtful. It's exciting and adventurous, yet still so serene, peaceful, and comfortable. My mind still can't wrap around it. How can one color make you feel so differently? I can't even venture a good guess. All I can say is that this room makes me feel excited, yet calm at the same time. I love imagining the waves washing up onto shore as I drift off to a peaceful slumber, then wake to the same thing the next morning. Then during the day as I enter my room, it's a joy that abounds, almost making me feel like I need to go grab my swimsuit and learn how to surf. Yes, my shade of blue is a beautiful shade of blue. And with that, I will say no more.
Gov. Sanford has been the scrutiny of just about every news source lately. His affair with an Argentine woman was publicly uncovered recently, although others (including his wife) have known about his affair since late last year.
While at first my heart broke to see another Republican politician get thrown in the mud, my heart also reached out to him, wanting to give him a second chance. To be completely honest, that's usually how I respond to circumstances such as these. I still haven't gotten over the Clewinsky thing yet, but I'm coming to an understanding. Although our former president messed up greatly, his wife and he sought reconciliation before hatred. I respect that.
Most recently, the famous family, Jon & Kate Gosselin (plus their eight), have been in the midst of turmoil, including supposed infidelity on both accounts. But what I disrespected most about them is that they didn't seem willing to work it out. Kate had at first suggested she would to fight for their marriage, but either she lost the fight, or never intended to fight it out. What irks me the most was that the show has continued, and although it's on hiatus for an indefinite time (August 5th is the rumored return date), the producers are actually continuing with the show, just as Kate and Jon separate. What upsets me most is that the show will still continue, and it has appeared that Jon and Kate aren't willing to give up the show and all the perks that come along with it to seek guidance, counseling, or therapy in order to save what is most important - their marriage.
So back to the whole Sanford thing. Like I said, I wanted not only for me to give him that second chance, but for others to give him that second chance as well. Although he and his wife are living separately for the time, there has been every indication that a reconciliation has been in progress. There is a time for healing. I can only imagine the pain not only his wife is in, but also his sons. How terrible for children to learn that their father did not remain faithful to their mother. But as Sanford said just Saturday evening while at a beach house with his family, "If there wasn't healing going on I wouldn't be here." That's a good step in the right direction, Gov. Sanford.
As a journalist, my curiosity sometimes gets the better of me. I tracked down online copies of the emails Sanford had sent back and forth between his mistress, Maria. From what I've gathered, the two have been friends before this started, and just like Sanford said in his first press conference, "It began very innocently, as I suspect many of these things do." In the last year it had developed into something much more. According to the emails, well, I must give credit to where it's due. Gov. Sanford, in one of the messages, said that their relationship was crossing a line he never thought he'd cross, and how he needed to right this wrong. Although there were some provocative details about their love affair, he explicitly implied he wanted out, and he would rather stop the affair, knowing the pain it would cause to his wife and family, but also to her as well. He states in one of his emails, "My heart wants me to get on a plane tonight and to be in your loving arms — my head is saying how do we put the Genie back in the bottle because I sure don’t want to be encumbering you, or your options or your life." Let me put it this way. I certainly cannot and will not condone the relationship they had. It caused an overwhelming amount of unnecessary pain for not only the family, but the entire state of South Carolina and the rest of America. It was wrong. But when you read the letters, you begin to understand the turmoil he was going through. His heart truly did not want to hurt his wife, but the woman was the epitome of Eve in the garden. She could not see how wrong the relationship was. She condoned what they were doing in her own way - I'm still not quite sure how that works. She condoned their emotional relationship just as much as their physical one, further tempting him into the terrible decisions he now faces the consequences of. "I don’t know how we figure all this out and I am not interested in knowing," she tells Gov. Sanford in one of her emails. They say, "It takes two to tango." While that is most certainly true, I must say that it seems like he was walking out the door as she was pulling him back in, and unfortunately, she won the battle.
Politically, I'm not sure what the circumstances are, so I cannot say with authority whether he should step down or not. But what I can say is that I do not want him to step down just because he had a black spot on a white jacket. South Carolinans seem split, but most say that he's been a good governor in the past. I do not wish to see this change just because of one sin, nor do I want America to judge based upon this one (very big) blemish. Politically speaking, In these uncertain economic times, it would be difficult for both South Carolina and the rest of America to go through the transition of power. Personally speaking, I would much rather see his marriage work out as he steps down rather than his marriage implode if he stays. A marriage comes first. That is my ultimate stance. If saving his marriage means leaving office, then I am in full support of his decision. But if it's possible to stay in office and reconcile this marriage, that is what I'd rather see.
Ultimately, I am proud of First Lady Sanford for willing to reconcile. I hope their Christian roots can bring a process of forgiveness and reconciliation that I know is receivable nowhere else.
The (true!) Biblical stories of Hosea and David set examples for situations such as these. From a Biblical basis, and from what I see here, the Sanfords are setting a precedent for marriage infidelities.
Michael Jackson. The past 24 hours have been flooded with messages, facebook status', tweets, blogs, and headlines about the King of Pop's death. However, if I'm being completely honest, I was never a huge fan of Michael Jackson. Yes, I definitely enjoyed the old-school Michael Jackson, back when he was that adorable little boy who sang "ABC, 123". Some of his other music has stuck with me just because of its use in movies, such as "Thriller," which has been in countless movies, or "The Way You Make Me Feel," which I knew from "Center Stage." "The Man in the Mirror" was probably the one song I truly appreciated solely from the MJ. The rest were just songs I could enjoy when I was in the mood, which wasn't often.
Like others, I found his progression after his childhood disturbing. The more he changed, the less I liked him. His latest face still sends shivers down my spine. It's truly ironic how "The Man in the Mirror" was his song, and it was his face that changed the most out of any man I've ever known. The more he changed, the more he seemed less like a human and more like an alien, which perhaps is why I couldn't connect with his music; It felt like the music came from a robot rather than a human. My mind would continually think of all the problems in his life, rather than listening and enjoying the beautiful ballads. It was the reality of his life that was the biggest hindrance in loving his music. Perhaps that's the true tragedy - not his death, but his mutation into a lonely, depressed, and self-mutilating human. It was then that many mourned the loss of the Michael they knew. It was then that his family cried out for help for Michael, knowing the fate he would one day endure. That's the real tragedy.
So, unlike the millions of others posting on their blogs how they are in tragic pain over the world's loss, I mourn not because of his death, but because now he will never overcome the problems he faced his latter part of his life.
Being a dancer, I'm drawn to dancing movies. "Step Up" came to theatres almost three years ago now, and although it didn't bring the finesse that my favorite dance movie "CenterStage" had, it held a character of its own. Although I know Step Up 2 has been out for some time now, I finally decided to give it a go. That was my first mistake. The second? Leaving it on after the first ten minutes. The only thing that I enjoyed in this film was the special appearance by Channing Tatum, and that's only because his chiseled features and gorgeous eyes entrance me every time.
Where to begin? Let's start with the terrible acting. Briana Evigan plays the part of Andie, a rebellious teenager, who's mother died at age 16 and is on her last chance living with her late mother's best friend (seem familiar?). Her last chance to stay in Maryland, as from the previous Step Up, is attending the Maryland School of the Arts. Robert Hoffman plays Chase, the preppy boy-band, blonde-haired dancer. Supposed sparks are supposed to fly between Chase and Andie, but obviously I missed the cue, because I couldn't even see a sliver of heat between them on-screen. A romantic scene between the two during an evening party had the words cheesy and cliche written all over it, which left me cringing. After Andie is kicked out of her own crew, her and Chase randomly decide to start one. Soon, a group of wanna-be dancers meet to work on a routine for the big competition "The Streets." After they realize they suck, they start re-working their routine. In the meantime, Andie's ex-crew gets word of the new crew, and trash MSA's studio, which gets Andie expelled. It was a good decision by me, although it was far from the right reason. The crew falls apart, and the usual "I'm sad and miss you" montage of Andie, Chase, and the rest of the crew ensues. The next thing you know, the crew's back together at Andie's door the same night as The Streets competition. After arriving at the infamous underground competition, they're told they don't belong there, it's a competition for locals only, and that they should go home. And, as predicted, Andie gets up and starts in on the "It doesn't matter where you're from" speech (you know, the one we hear every movie like this.) Pretending to act ghetto, she plees to the crowd to let her crew dance. And, as predicted, they suddenly change their minds and cheer her on as they all rush outside in the rain to watch the final crew dance. The final dance had some interesting choreography, and the rain added a cool twist, but again, I was left lacking excitement. It was clear that some of their moves were stolen from past seasons of the hit Fox reality show, "So You Think You Can Dance," which I'm sure was input given by producer Adamm Shankman.
Step Up 2 lacks creativity, a good plot-line, original choreography, talented actors, and just about everything in between. To quote my favorite show, FRIENDS, "Well, the lighting was all right." If only that were enough to make a movie worth seeing.
If producers are going to continue with this "sequel" fad, they better be darn sure it's going to blow the original out of the water. Then maybe it'll stand a chance for it to actually be just as good as the first. Hopefully producer Adamm Shankman will keep that in mind while they're working on the newest sequel, "Step Up: 3-D." I sure don't want to torture myself watching another disastrous dancing movie again.
You know how you are just going about your normal daily routine, then something, just some little thing, sparks something in your memory? It happened to me today. I saw frilly socks. You know, the cute little socks your mom used to dress you in when you were little? The ones with the ribbon or the bows or the lace on the top, and it folded down? The second I saw those socks my memory was flooded with images of my childhood. The purple and white dress, with all the lace. The really poofy yellow dress. The other purple dress that had sparkly fruit on it. The pocahantas dress, or the floral/lace one mom sewed herself. Or the shoes. Remember the black shiny shoes that almost reminsced tap shoes? Oh, goodness. Then there was the hair; it was the really poofy hair, side ponytails, and poofy bangs, usually secured with a bow clip.
I remember waking up every Sunday morning, looking inside the hall-way closet for a dress to wear. I always wanted the ribbons and bows tied in front, not the back. I was certain it was supposed to go that way. Mom told me every Sunday morning it needed to go into the back, and I argued with her because I wanted it in the front. In the end, she usually won...that is until she was out of my sight.
Then there was Sunday School, then sitting through church, unless there was Children's Church (thank goodness). Then after church all of the kids would run around outside, usually playing some silly game or another. Jared, Briann, me, Jordy, Catherine...we'd all run and scream about until our parents dragged us home. We would also get yelled at for climbing on top of the church's marquee....for the thousandth time. Then we'd all depart.
I went back and looked through some pictures tonight. I wanted to remember the dresses and the socks and the shoes. In the photo albums I found photos of things I had long forgotten. My stuffed Beethoven dog. At least, that's what he looked like. I can't remember if I called him Beethoven or something else, like "rufus". Then There was baby doll....baby doll had the longest eyelashes, and blonde curly hair. She wore pink cotten pajamas. And you can't forget the train set. It was filled with baby Sesame Street characters, and the train was set on a cloverleaf patterned track. In each of the four circles were different "amusement rides" they would ride. A merry go-round, a Ferris Wheel...one was something like an Alligator pond. Or there was my Minney-mouse slippers. Pink, as Minney and I would both have it.
I learned that my cousin Kyle didn't like to smile in a lot of pictures. I did. This hasn't changed one bit. I learned that ages ago, Uncle Karl had these crazy side-burns that reminds me of John Travolta in Grease, and Kristy (my mom's cousin) was still gorgeous with her krimped frizzy hair early 90's hair. I learned that my mom, Aunt Sherry, Aunt Peggy, and Gramma all had crazy massive round glasses. I learned that once upon a time, Como Park/Zoo was a frequented place for my parents and uncle Karl/Sherry to visit.
There's a great deal that I remembered or learned tonight. I can't remember the last time I looked through those photos.
I can't help but wonder what it would be like to go back to those times...when life's biggest worry was when you got a cut or a scrape, getting yelled at by your mom for getting grass stains on your dress, or trying to convince your mom the bow belongs in the front. I know, I know..."It's all part of growing up."
But maybe, just for once, I want to be Wendy and stay in the land of Neverland, where you don't have to grow up.
"Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow." - Langston Hughes
I had the blessing and the phenomenal opportunity to see a fantastic musical in St. Paul tonight. My best friend and I had made today as our "get away from (most) school" day. This morning we had a photo shoot together, something we've done for the past few years just for the fun of it. After I was finished with my last class for the semester (woohoo!), and finishing up the eastiest and best Biology Lab assignment ever, I ran back to my room to get ready for our evening.
After a great dinner at one of my favorite places, the Old Spaghetti Factory, we drove across the river and into downtown St. Paul to experience what I had been waiting for, for almost 11 months... LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL.
The musical, the singing and dancing version of MGM's hit Legally Blonde, has been in town for about a week and a half, and tonight I was finally able to experience it. It was a fantastic show, and although it took a better part of me not to sing along, I couldn't have been more happy. Besides the fact that I sat in my seat the entire show like a kid in a candy store, with eyes wide open and a huge grin pasted on my face, there are some great lessons I took away from the show.
In the show, the main character Elle packs up and moves to Harvard Law School in pursuit of her ex-boyfriend, the incredible Warner Hunnington III. During her time at Harvard, she learns things about herself that even she didn't know, such as that she has the brains to become a successful lawyer, or that being judged by her hair color shouldn't stand in the way of accomplishing her dreams.
I also had the pleasure of speaking with the some of the cast after the show tonight, including Becky Gulsvig, who hails from Moorhead, MN, just minutes away from my old hometown. (oh the days of the good ol' Hawley Nuggets!)Rhiannon Hansen (finalist on the MTV show's search for the next Elle Woods) was also there, and of course a few of the other cast members. (I also got to do the bend and snap with Becky and Rhiannon, which was thoroughly enjoyable...now if only I can plug that in when I need it to work on a guy.) In their discussion with the audience, one of the last questions asked was about how the actors got to where they are, and what advice they'd give to aspiring actors. Amidst other good advice was the classic phrase "Never give up, and believe in yourself."
I couldn't help but walk away from the Ordway tonight feeling like I believed in myself. The problem is, I only believe in myself until something tells me I'm not good enough. I am a trained dancer, which is by far my forte. I can sing, but the last formal training I've had was high school. I can act, although, like singing, the last training I've had was in high school. But in a world with talent such as Susan Boyle boiling to the top now, I know I have enough competition to keep my hopes low enough that I don't want to try. Then Becky Gulsvig mentioned something tonight that's stuck in my brain. She said "be yourself." I know, I know. "Be Yourself" is such a general term, and we've heard it all a hundred thousand times. But what she said somehow plugged it different in my brain. She mentioned that in show biz, you can get turned down for parts not because you weren't a good enough singer. In fact, you may have been a better singer, but you were taller than the male lead. You literally have to be yourself to get a part...that fits you. They will choose YOU based upon who YOU are. She mentioned that you can admire someone else, but if you try to be like everyone else, you'll never get a part. It's being who you are that makes the part.
So what does this mean? I don't know. I know that I can't be anybody else but myself. And I know I still have dreams I aspire to accomplish. And I know that I can't tell myself "I'm not worthy," without even giving it a shot. So I am going to take that first step in a long staircase, and we'll see where it leads. Regardless of whether or not I find a place in the theatre community, we all must seek out our dreams, because when we lose them, we lose a sense of self, a piece of our soul, and possibly our future. So whatever your dreams may be, tell yourself every day to be yourself, and that someday that perfect part will come along that fits you to a "T." And remember, as Vivian put it, "Being true to yourself never goes out of style."
Now I have to face reality, however, and get some sleep, because the next 5 days are going to be the equivalent of "study hell" in preparation for my finals.
Quick trivia fact: I used to live in Montana. My name's Hannah. I get called "Hannah Montana" quite often.
What people don't know about me, however, is that I secretly love Hannah Montana. Actually, I didn't for quite a while. My younger sister is in that "tween" stage, and of course is in love with Hannah Montana, so needless to say that when I'm home and she's in control of the remote, it usually goes to that show. I found it slightly irritating and annoying.
Then over this past Easter weekend, my sister pleaded for me to take her to go see Hannah Montana: the movie. Actually, it wasn't "pleading" as much as it was "You're taking me to go see it." After some moaning of my own, I decided that my friend and I would take my little sister and her friend to go see it. I was expecting to see the normal. You know, Hannah Montana is cool, her friends and her play pranks on her brother and laugh, then her friend and her get in a small fight then make up and everybody's happy. I expected wrong.
The beginning was as I predicted. Somewhat childish, Hannah Montana IS cool, and some laughs. But then the actual plot started suck me in. As the movie progresses, Miley's dad tricks his daughter into flying back to Tennessee...her roots. Well, actually, their roots.
I may be a city girl in many ways. I love having shopping malls nearby with just about every store imaginable. I love that a grocery store is literally a 2 minute drive away for me, and I can go see a movie on a whim because it's only another 3 minutes away from the grocery store. But there's a side of me that boils up to the surface every once in a while. My father grew up on a farm. My father's father grew up on a farm. My grandmother grew up on a farm. My Grandmother's father grew up on a farm. Farming is in our family. My grandparents currently own their own farm, although they've sold most of their cattle. Their house sits on a thousand acre plot, which consists of green grass, ponds and streams, and the woods. My aunt lives 5 miles down the road from them, and among their own stretch of land roams their horses. Although I've lived in the city for all but three years of my life (and even then, it was just a development area), I have grown up as a country girl. Maybe not quite a farm girl, because I never learned how to farm. But I've helped my grandpa drive the tractor. I've helped milk the cows. I've helped peel the corn and pluck the chickens. I also take the four-wheeler out for some adventure out back on a consistent basis while I'm there. Much of the time it includes getting very muddy.
Hannah Montana: The Movie really hit home for me. While she's at "home", although quite relucant at first, she re-learns and re-affirms her life and roots in the country, full with ho-downs, horseback riding, and good ol' fashioned country singing. At the very end of the movie, she starts singing one of her "Hannah Montana" songs, pretending that she isn't Miley. But after all she's been through, she can't do it. It was on that very stage years ago that she started singing and country fairs and other events. It was with both her family and that same community that she grew up with. They knew who she was, but most importantly, she finally knew who she was. She stopped her "Hannah" song dead in it's tracks, pulled off the blonde wig, stripped off her "Montana" self, and became Miley again. It was in that moment that we all must realize our roots. We all must realize that we came from somewhere. Our past may not dictate who we are, but it is a part of us. And we can't throw it away for something we think is better, because denying that part of us is like denying a piece of our history, whether good or bad.
In Miley's case, it was good. It brought her home.
This weekend I drove up to my grandparent's again. And as I entered, I was greeted with hugs and kisses. The warmth that I felt while up there among the trees, streams, and green grass was more than I've felt in a cold city in a long time.
There's something refreshing and renewing about going home. It's a time to reflect, a time of perspective.
For all of you Hannah Montana haters out there, I urge you to reconsider. Miley Cyrus' performance is definitely not restricted to children, and the movie will have your hearts at home by the end. Feel the love and warmth this budding actress brings in her new movie.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the world. There is a revelation I need to share. I am not perfect. Nor are you. Crazy idea isn't it?
Before I continue, please just know that I am being honest, which is something I am trying to do more of. Give me some credit for sharing this with you; It's not an easy thing to do.
I have grown up shopping bargains and clearance racks. I don't have extra money to spend on shopping a lot. I can't afford a COACH handbag, or Prada sunglasses. Most of my clothes are usually worn until either they don't fit or until they start getting holes in them. I eat a lot of macaroni & cheese, spaghetti and cereal because I am too "cheap" to spend my money on expensive (but delicious and healthy) foods. I pay for my own cell phone, my own travel money, and basically anything I want. My body is also not perfect. My leg hairs grow too fast. My hair is too curly on the bottom, and isn't curly enough on top. My stomach isn't flat. I don't have the most beautiful cheekbones. Sometimes I don't have the perfect manners I should have. I don't know what silverware to start eating with (although I do know to work from the outside in.) I sometimes say things that then three seconds later make me stick my foot in my mouth. I think I talk too much. I am not perfect.
My grandfather and his wife aren't these people. They go on cruises an average of twice a year. Although they are in the process of retiring, they can still afford a number of things I can't. Somehow in my mind, I've built them up to be these perfect, prim and proper, fancy people. I am going to spend some time with them in a few short days. I am also meeting my step-grandmother's friends from the country club at a fancy dinner. I became so nervous about this "meeting" that I literally began to feel sick, tired, and just heavy. It was constantly in my thoughts, and the more I thought about it, the more distraught and overwhelmed I became.
After having a mental breakdown at Target, my good friend Christine told me that I needed to spend time in the Bible. So I did. I can't tell you what a relief it was when God showed me that, yes, I am not perfect, but that's okay! Having designer purses and clothing doesn't make me a good person. Having the perfect body doesn't make me a good person. Even having the most proper of all manners doesn't make me a good person. I am a good person because God created me the way that I am.
What I am. God loves me the way that I am. So what am I? I am caring. I love people in a way that most people cannot understand. I will fight to the greatest depths for any of my friends, and I truly believe that I am easy to get along with. I am not judgmental, and I love getting to know people and understand them. I am beautiful. Yes, I am. Body fat, big and sometimes clogged pores, short legs, and big hips...I am still beautiful!! I have beautiful blue eyes, and a beautiful smile I inherited from my father. I have pretty hair when I do it right. I have small feet, and although sometimes I don't like that, I secretly do love them. I do have manners, despite not having the most proper ones all the time! I am creative. I create meaning through words, through photography, through dance, that I believe many can't do. I am a talented dancer. I have this ability to portray the pure joy and elation I get from dancing. It's because of this that I have been able to teach students about dancing, and through teaching them dance, I have been able to be there and mentor them as they grow and learn about things in life.
Most importantly, I am these things because God created me, and Christ died for me. (Do you know any of your friends who have died to save your life?) He has shown me what it feels like to be loved. And it's not even just an "I love you because of these things." It's an "I love you so so much because I made you, and it doesn't matter what you do and what you say, I will always love you." It's because of this that I can show love to others.
So ladies and gentlemen, I propose this: We are not a perfect people. But we must learn to love what we are. Flaws, both physical and otherwise. We must love ourselves because we are loved! God loves you. You think that your past can somehow keep his love from you? Not true. He loves you beyond every single one of your flaws!
This pressure we put on ourselves becomes ridiculous...and we look at that as what we have to measure up to. Yet we can never attain it. And that's okay!
This is an article I once wrote last fall about the upcoming election, specifically the MN senate race between Franken and Coleman. Since they are still battling out the ballots, I figured I'd post this.
After seeing countless attack ads and smear tactics from Al Franken and current Sen. Norm Coleman, you would think the better option would be to pick the independent candidate for Senate, Dean Barkley. However, that’s not nearly the case. This year’s election could potentially bring a time that is more disastrous than Gov. Jesse Ventura’s reign. Even though Minnesota hasn’t produced the best candidates this year, Senator Coleman is the best choice in this race for Minnesota Senator. Remember Gov. Ventura? It’s almost like remembering the Alamo, but much worse. The newest clone of the pro-wrestler turned terrible governor is Al Franken, the comedian and entertainment representative – the only difference is the position Franken might hold. Al Franken could be Minnesota’s worst mistake since Gov. Ventura. Not only does Franken have no political experience other than his radio talk show (oh wait, that’s not political experience, either), it seems he can’t even keep his own finances in order. In his time in New York, his company “Al Franken Inc.” failed to carry worker’s compensation insurance from the years of 2002-2005, and was ordered to pay $25,000 in fines. Many are failing to understand how this could just slip his mind three years in a row. How is he supposed to help Minnesota in this economic crisis if he can’t even run his own company right? While Franken might be able to write a good comedic sketch for Saturday Night Live, it’s hard to believe he can write a good bill, or anything that might help this state and country. Comedy is appropriate in television, not on the Senate floor – especially when it’s our tax dollars at the risk of a terrible joke. To top that all off, Franken wrote an article in 2000 for “Playboy” entitled “Porn-O-Rama,” which six prominent women in the GOP claimed was “demeaning and degrading.” This implies just how much of an appalling role model and leader he is for the people of Minnesota. Seems to me Franken in this race seems to be the joke more than that “Playboy” article. Independent Party representative Dean Barkley seems like the next best choice, but not by much more than the size of a slice of deli-cut turkey. One major problem is his service and alliance with Gov. Ventura. However, contrary to Franken, Barkley has had actual political experience. In January of 1999, Ventura appointed Barkley as the director of the Office of Strategic and Long Range Planning (also known as Minnesota Planning.) Barkley served in that role until Oct. 25, 2002, after Paul Wellstone’s death. Ventura appointed Barkley to take Wellstone’s senate spot until the election of current Senator Coleman in 2002. Those few months gave Barkley a small chunk of senate experience, as he passed a bill for a memorial for Wellstone and provided a pivotal vote in the last fragment in passing the Homeland Security Act. Barkley served a total of 62 days in the Minnesota Senate. After a failed attempt to get a job at a prestigious law firm, Barkley then worked for a time as a contract lobbyist in St. Paul, where he represented casino interests, a tobacco firm and a group trying to privatize prisons. Barkley is currently a bus driver for Transit Team, which transports elderly and disabled clients. While Barkley is certainly a better choice than Franken, he does not have the ability to lead Minnesota through these turbulent years. Senator Coleman is the best choice for Senate, although he doesn’t have flaming recommendations, either. Although Coleman may not be in the race for “Senator hall-of-fame,” he has shown himself to be firmly grounded. Coleman, who has held the position since January of 2003 when he took office, has had years of Senatorial experience. In his first two years as mayor of St. Paul, Coleman was a member of the DFL. In 1996, Coleman switched parties, claiming that while parties may change, his stances on abortion and gay-rights will not, so he stuck with his positions on pro-life and anti-gay rights. Since then, Coleman has remained a member of the Republican Party, and has worked on several different committees helping provide health care aid. While Coleman has shown himself to be the most respectable of the candidates, he isn’t blameless on his ads on Franken. However, Coleman deserves our respect for sticking to his choices, even if that means changing parties. It’s reassuring to have someone in office that sticks to his guns and cannot be swayed by the sinking sands of politics.
Last night, a friend of mine shared with a group of us girls a story. The story was about her brother, and his love for the game of hockey. The story was also about the sickening, gruesome things that happened to him in the locker room. Because I want to protect my friend and her family, I will not share everything here; it is also too graphic to post on a blog. Because he would not participate in these graphic and sickening acts, he was then forced to "reep the consequences" by his fellow teammates. What they did was not okay. If this had happened in a classroom, just a short walk from the locker room, the teacher and students would suffer severe consequences. Yet because this all took place in the locker room and it's passed off as "boys will be boys", they receive no such punishment. Why is this?
There are two things that stick out to me. First, I can't understand how this "hazing" can't be punished. The administration has known about this. It is required by Minnesota state law to both report and punish these actions. Yet people stand by and act like it isn't a big deal, when in all reality, this harassment has caused my friend's brother and their entire family severe emotional damage, so much so that professional counseling is sought. Why is nobody doing anything?
Second. I laugh at my friends when they make a suggestive joke. It's passed off as sarcasm. To the outside world, this isn't something to feel guilty about. It's just another joke. We see them all the time in television shows. The Simpsons, King of the Hill, even FRIENDS reruns. Yet now I see that even these can hurt people. Maybe not directly, but if I were in the presence of my friend and her brother, it would be a different story. I would not laugh. I would not even smile. Instead, I would look to her and her brother with eyes that wish to comfort.
My friend loves her brother. It's tearing her apart to see him being put in these situations, harassed by his teammates and no one to listen to his cries to make it stop. As an older sibling, myself, I understand the need to protect, and the feeling that when a younger sibling is hurting, you hurt yourself. She feels this, and it is ripping her heart in pieces to see her brother battling harassment with no one to reprimand and punish those who are doing it.
I beg everyone, first, to look in their own lives. Are there things being said to people who find it hurtful? I then make a plea, to everyone, that when you see or hear of harassment, don't just stand around, waiting for someone else to make the call first. Be the one that yells at wrongdoers. Be the one who puts an end to the harassment. It's wrong. No if's, and's, or but's. It is wrong. Period. In today's society, we have a tendency to look at things from a relative perspective, and with an "open mind." But there comes a time when an open mind just won't cut it anymore. An open mind does not change the fact that any type of harassment is wrong, and an open mind does not change the actions that cause severe emotional trauma. It is not okay. Stop it now.
Mornings. Even just the word “morning” makes me sad. It sounds just like “mourning.” I have never been a morning person, and have truly enjoyed sleeping in past noon when I can. However, the life of a college student is much more demanding, and often before the sun rises I am forced out of bed. But even among my groans and stretches, I get excited every morning when I turn on the TV to the Today Show. I had watched the Today show here and there in years past, but I had never really cared about it. Then about two years ago, I found that seeing Meredith Viera and Matt Lauer tell news stories in the morning made me smile, and I was hooked.
The Today show has so much to offer for everyone. I enjoy learning new tricks to make delicious meals for cheap. I love learning new ideas for cost-friendly fashion. I enjoy listening to the news of the outside world, beyond the Northwestern Bubble. They have had every-day families on their show, with stories anywhere from overcoming tragedies to a family with 18 children. And although those stories catch my heart in a certain way, I truly enjoy when the anchors go around the world and show America what it is to live in places like Antarctica, Africa, and China. But most of all, I love the stories they tell. Every story is real, and mostly importantly, that each story is important.
The Today Show is my morning coffee. Every morning I feel like I’m a part of a family, who share everything from personal experiences, to tips on saving money, to beauty and health tips. I’ve tried watching other morning shows, like ABC’s Good Morning America or CBS’ The Morning Show, but there’s a connection to The Today Show that even words can’t describe. Maybe it’s because I have journalism blood running through my veins, or maybe it’s just because I enjoy the chemistry between the anchors. Either way, whatever chemistry The Today show truly has, it works for me.
The most important thing that I come out of after watching The Today Show is the sense of how to tell a story. I love people, and every person has their own story. I aspire to tell stories the way I've seen The Today Show has. I aspire to tell every person's story like it's the most important one in the world. I take that back. I WILL tell every story I write like it's the most important story in the world.
Today our hall is getting ready for something the Northwestern Community knows as "Knuha Day". This event promotes eight different organizations that help to better this world. Each hall chooses an organization that they want to represent, then decorates their hall and creates a dance or human video that is later presented to an audience. The hall that puts on the best total presentation gets money to donate to that specific charity/organization of their choice.
Our hall chose "To write love on her arms" as our hall charity/organization. For time reasons, i won't go into crazy details about this organization, but to give you an overall view, it's focus is helping teenagers and young adults battle depression, cutting, and suicide.
Every one of us has had rough points in our lives. Some more dramatic than others. But much of the time, it doesn't matter the "degree" of the situation. When something difficult in life comes up, it's often hard to see that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, where you feel like you are in a dark cave, and can't feel your way to the exit.
Often, when we're hurting, we feel that in order to be the best employees, the best friends, and the best family members, we have to be positive, upbeat, and happy. We walk around with a smile on our face and a chunk missing in our hearts.
"To write love on her arms" helps battle this. It gives the opportunity for everyone battling with depression and pain to feel love, knowing others know their pain and are there to help them find the exit.
In a little over two weeks, I, along with about 20 other women, will be performing a dance/human video that promotes what "to write love on her arms" is doing. It's difficult to describe my "excitement" (if you can call it that) to use dance to show others the love and hope we can help give to those who need it.
That day will be a powerful one, and I can only hope that the love we pour into this project will empower us and others to show the love and hope others can have.
For the past school year, I've been in classes that have taught me about communication. How we communicate, how problems arise when communication goes awry, and how we can solve problems through communication. When therapists, phychologists, and even the every day person say, "Communication is key," it's because it's true. But that doesn't mean it stings any less when it takes place.
For instance, I am currently on a dance team at our college. I have taken on the role of choreographing, teaching, and perfecting a kick routine in a matter of about a month. We have exactly three practices left. Last practice, because of the Superbowl, practice was moved to an earlier time. Unfortunately, the time change took place less than 24 hours prior to practice. My understanding was that we would only have the early practice if everyone could make it. What I understood later, however, was that practice was moved earlier, no matter how many people could make it.
This created a conflict, as I entered practice expecting to see all 18 girls. I only saw 13. That means give of them would have to make practice time up. 5 of them needed to attempt the routine with the music. Multiple times. Knowing that they most likely wouldn't practice on their own, I was increasingly irked.
Later, after practice, the captains and I talked. It was good to get our feelings out on the table. It was beneficial to hear each other's point of views. But we all left after our meeting feeling as if we each were right. I still thought, and was still irked, that everyone was not there. They were irked that I was stepping across a line, expecting every member to attend.
I feel a little better about it now. I do. But the problem still is there; I still wish that people would commit fully to the team, instead of it's a "half and half" deal, when during tryouts people were asked if they were ready to fully commit to the team.
Communication is good, neh, it's great, and truly "key." However, when communicating hurts and wrongs, know that it won't immediately fix the pain and frustration. It takes time, love, and alot of patience to make it through battles still friends.
I never thought I'd write about racism. I've never had too much of an interest, and mostly just thought it was a well worn-out topic on our campus. Yet I am writing about it...here and now, the same day our first African American president was sworn into office. Today over lunch, I had an interesting conversation and debate with a friend about racism on our campus and in the country Because of some privacy issues, I will not disclose names, nor the entire background of the story. Here, however, is a quick summary of the background. The night President Obama was elected President, there were several students from our campus, a few other people who were not a part of our campus, and a former staff member, all came onto campus late that night and painted "the rock". Painting the rock is a common occurance and is perfectly accepted. The words they painted on the rock, however, were not accepted, even tolerated by the school. After painting "Obama Rocks" on the rock, which was perfectly acceptable, that group continued to paint "Friends of NWC are racist." While painting the rock, students across the road were woken up to the sounds of racial slurs being shouted by these students. (I should mention this group of students were of different races...white, African American, Asian..)
For sake of time and space, I will allow that to be the brunt of the story I will share. My discussion and debate today sparked and intrigued me.
The way I see racism is basically non-existant. My thoughts are the reasons why I might not interact with those in different races from me is not because they are of a different race, but because I either a) do not have any classes with them, b) do not live around or in the same room with them, or c) they are not in the same activities as I am.
This statement is partly true for me. I do not know alot, or am friends with alot, of people of a different race as I am. However, I am close friends with several people who are. But then it does not become about "I know and am friends with people of different races." It becomes, "I am friends with Priscilla, and Lolly, and Brian." Because I do not see them as a different race, I see them as my friends...people who I know because I share an interest of dancing, or an interest of working at camp. I do not go and randomly introduce myself to someone of a different race normally because I would not normally do that with someone of the same race. It is not meant as "I don't have an interest to talk to you because you are black." It's "I don't have an interest to talk to you because I don't know you."
This is how I view things. However, while talking with a friend of mine, I found that is not the way many others view it. The way he described it, they see things AS being racist. For example: that same night, because they were causing disturbances late into the night, another small group (3 or 4 white students) came out to confront the group, who meant to just go ask if they'd quiet down. One woman from the rock-painting group started coming at the samll group, saying they're coming because they're racist. Immediately, one guy said, "This has nothing to do with race!" Later, when Campus Security pulled up, the rock-painting group automatically assumed they were being racist.
All this to say, in discussing this with my friend, he helped me see that the way I view racism is a non-problem. The way those of different races see it as an actual problem, immediately thinking that those of different races are racist against them.
Now that my eyes are opened to this, I wonder how then to fix this problem.
If this is the way America truly sees it, I wonder how the African American community in America will view caucasions, or Asians, or Native Americans. How will Native Americans view Asians, and caucasions? How will Asians, view African Americans or Native Americans?
How will the election and swearing in of our first African American president affect our livelihoods as Americans?
Most importantly, how do we all come to a conclusion and make an effort to understand each other? How do caucasions look at Asians, or African Americans? How do African Americans or Asians or Native Americans perceive caucasions? What can we do to start seeing each other in the same light?
Today, as I walked in the door coming back from class, I turned on the TV to see what was on. To my surprise, I immediately saw what looked like an airplane slowly sinking in the water. I quickly turned up the volume and sat down, only to watch and listen about the commercial airline that "safe crash landed" in the Hudson River. I was frightened as I listened about the details of what had happened, although I was very thankful there were no deaths being reported.
The airplane that had to crash took off from Laguardia. Later on, as I listened to details, I learned that Laguardia was confident that the take-off of that aircraft was successful, and that the supposed culprit to the problems were...was I hearing this correctly...BIRDS?
I had several thoughts that came in the following moments. First, I was immediately thrown into this sense of fear. Fear for myself, fear for my family, fear for friends. I have never been afraid of flying, even after 9/11. My family even flew ON Sept. 11th, just last year, to California for a wedding. This, however, shocked and rattled me, as I am planning to fly into and out of Laguardia come this April. If one or two birds can cause that much damage and harm to an airplane, then what COULD happen?
Second, I thought "How in the world does a bird get sucked up into an engine and actually cause problems, and in this case, severe problems in the first place? " There are literally thousands of aircrafts over the world that take off every day. How has this problem not happened before? Don't the air traffic controllers realize that birds fly across the world every single day?
Third, it made me think of how safe flying is now, in today's economy. I hear every day of Delta and Northwest having to make hundreds, even thousands, of layoffs. Who, exactly, is being laid off, and how is this affecting the maintenance and care of the runways and the airplanes? I have yet to look into this, and I suspect it will not be an easy task. Yet I feel the need for people all over the world to know just how safe flying is at this crucial point in our economy.
These were the things that have flooded my mind ever since I sat down about five hours ago and first discovered this event. Hopefully we'll receive some answers soon on exactly how the air traffic controllers, pilots, and flight companies around the world will change their standards to keep us safe.
One last note: Major "props" to the pilots, flight attendants, and people on board that flight for following exact procedures, resulting in a very positive outcome in a very negative situation!
When we're young, we were always told "reach for the stars," and "anything's possible." We grow up hearing inspiring stories about how people "made it." But as we grow older, our dreams become less exciting and more practical.
When I was young, I wanted to be so many things. A detective or CSI, a ballerina, a concert pianist, or a dolphin trainer. I grew up, and eventually figured out that it would be difficult to be a ballerina (I love chocolate way too much.) I learned that CSI's actually have to deal with blood (which I faint at the thought of.) I found out that you have to be great with a varieties of sciences and mathematics to train a dolphin (which I'm not.) And a concert pianist needs both extreme talent and lots of training. (Well, I had the training, and some talent, but it certainly wasn't enough.)
There are two things that have, however, stuck in my dreams. The dream of becoming a journalist, having a successful career, then going part-time so I can enjoy being a mother. This is my "dream B," or my "backup dream." I love to write, and I love to design pages. I love photography, and I love making videos. (I was a broadcasting major before changing to journalism, and now I've taken up broadcasting as a minor, since I'm only 5 credits away from it.) This dream, I know, is attainable.
But that leaves no room for the miracle of my first love...dancing. This other dream has been in my heart since before I started taking dance lessons. This dream...becoming a dancer, is something my heart won't let go, no matter what I tell myself. I don't care whether it's on broadway or with a company somewhere. Yet something holds me back. I love to dance and to be on stage in front of an audience. I would give anything to make a career out of it. But I'm not. I am too afraid of my dreams becoming disappointments. I've been to scared of failing, and then having nowhere else to turn to. The logical side of me said, "you need to go to school and get an education so that you can pursue this dream later." The heart of me said, "You need to pursue dancing right now." In the end, the logical won. I don't regret going to school. I have been incredibly blessed to have learned what I have. I believe, in the end, that journalism is well within a good grasp of me right now. But I constantly wonder what would happen if I were to just go and audition for dancing roles across the world. I know I'm not the first, nor the last, to have these thoughts. What does one do when life takes us in out to sea, while our dreams are lying on the shore?
As Langston Hughes wrote, "Hold fast to dreams For if dreamd die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow." These dreams are something one must hold dear, if even for the sake of having them for the time. But how do we deal with the dreams put on hold? I was recently talking with a friend about my dancing "career". She said that no matter what happens, that I should never give up dancing. She was right. It's in my blood, my veins, my life, and giving that up would mean a grief and sense of loss I know I couldn't bear. Many people have dreams of doing this or doing that, yet only a handful of them ever do what they had dreampt about as life was just beginning. But letting go of a dream doesn't mean you have to quit all-together. There are plenty of opportunities around you that provide a means for that release. For me, it was teaching dance lessons at a local dance studio. I taught lessons to kids anywhere from ages 5-18, and I can't help but admit it was such an incredible blessing. To pass on information that I've learned through the years, knowing I am enriching another person's life, helped me see past my own ambitions and give back to the community. Who knows..maybe one of them might turn out to be the next Margot Fonteyn.
Take your dreams and your passions, and do something with them. Teach a class, do it as a fun hobby, join a club, or take some classes yourself! Whether it's painting, basketball, or acting, enrich your life, and enrich other's.
