Foodie

Hello everyone.

I know it's been a long time since my last post.  The crunch of the semester is starting to clamp down on me, and my good intention to post more often has fallen away to make room for more *academic* priorities.

However, I am taking time away from the vast pile of college responsibility in order to address a matter of universal importance: food.

What can I say about food?  It is something that unites people from across barriers, a source of enjoyment and sustenance.  Everyone needs it, and learning how to prepare food for oneself is of the utmost importance.  As a college student, I am fed up (pun intended) with mundane cafeteria selections.  When I first moved away to school in 2009, I did a reverse "freshman fifteen" by losing fifteen pounds within the first two months.  Yes, a large reason for this shift was the fact that campus life required me to walk much more than I was used to, but another factor was the food selection at school.  It just didn't make me hungry.  I lived on the sparse groceries I could afford (usually fruit and granola) and the few items that looked edible in the cafeteria: cucumbers, flat bread, and water.  Eventually I gained more of an appetite and had a more balanced diet within the slim pickings, but there's no way getting around it: the cafeteria's food is just bad.

I hope I am not being ungrateful or snobbish in my criticism of my school's food.  Although most of my peers complain about it, they seem to eat just fine, and I am more of an oddity in my personal food preferences.  I don't know if "picky" is the right term to describe my taste– I'm generally more concerned with what goes into my body on a holistic level than most of my friends.  This might be due to the fact that I've monitored the reactions of my mind and body to artificial colors and flavors since high school.  I've noticed that colored candy in particular increases my irritability and lowers my inhibitions to impulses.  I'm much more likely to blurt out my thoughts after ingesting something enhanced with dyes and flavors than not.  In short, I know that I don't do well with "fake food."

Being somewhat on my own has pushed me to do more things for myself, and cooking is one of them.  Since I'm now the one who pays for the ingredients, I've had to be conscious of what I can and can't afford.  Time is also something I need to take into consideration.  I can't spend an entire day making some kind of delicacy, not when there's class to go to or sleep to get.

A great help to me has been in the form of "The Healthy College Cookbook."  My mom gave me this wonderful book for my birthday, and it has been a source of foodie inspiration.  (The tag line is "quick, easy, cheap."  What more can one ask for?).  Another motivator to cook has been–as odd as this may sound– the kitchen equipment.  Last semester I came across a set of green vintage enamel pots and pans at the Salvation Army.  The whole set was about $40, but I considered it an investment and went ahead and bought them.  I figured that I would need pots and pans eventually, and I'd might as well get something that looked pretty.  Since then, I have accumulated a retro canvas apron, bamboo heart shaped mixing spoon, and Russian doll inspired oven mitt.  I'm not sure why, but cooking with my new kitchen supplies has made me more eager to cook than ever.

Yesterday I cracked out my cute green pans to make a simple but satisfying meal of Brown Rice with Curry.  Here's the recipe for anyone who is interested.

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 cup brown rice, uncooked
• 1 can chicken broth
• 1/4 cup raisins
• 1 teaspoon curry powder

Melt butter in a saucepan.  Add onion and cook until yellow.  Add rice to pan and coat in butter mixture.  Add broth, raisins, and curry powder and bring to a boil.  Remove from heat and simmer for 30 minutes, or until liquid is absorbed.

And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free...

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger then you seem, and smarter than you think."

-Christopher Robin to Pooh

It's Friday night and I'm in my room, drinking tea and listening to Hoppipolla.  I had planned to be out tonight but, as I'm sure you have gathered, I am blogging instead.  

How did this all fall through, you may wonder.  Here's the short version:

This evening I was supposed to have a date.  Remember the guy who I had initially turned down, who hailed me for my "awesome personality"?  I decided to give him another chance.  After all, he actually asked me on a date, which is leagues above what most guys I know do.  He didn't say "hang out," "chill" or, my personal favorite, "kick it."  However uninteresting his adjectives, this guy actually asked me on a date.  Sure, that was two months ago.  Sure, he had dated (and broken up with) someone else during the time since he initially asked me out.  But thought to myself, why not?  Carpe diem!


Although I had agreed to a date, I didn't want to lead this guy on.  I have big plans for the future, and I can't see myself being in a relationship anytime soon– at least not unless it lines up seamlessly with my vision of my future.  That being said, I was perfectly honest with the guy and told him exactly what I just wrote here: that I don't realistically see him as my boyfriend.  After I graduate, I hope to teach English in Russia for at least a year, and who knows how long I'll be gone after that.  His response was something along the lines that it will be awhile before I leave the country, and I can still  "enjoy the company of a boyfriend before you go."

Okay, fair enough.  We agreed to go on a date Friday (today).  I do not have a cell phone, but I explained to him that I can take calls in my room, so I gave him the number.  He asked me what time could he call me at– I said I would be in my room Tuesday from 2-4:30.

He never called.

That was the first red flag.  According to the latest self-help relationship book I read, if a guy doesn't call, it's because he doesn't want to call.  I decided to let it slide.  When he still had not contacted me, though, this morning, I decided to find out what was going on.

I had signed in to Facebook to check my notifications.  This guy had sent no message or post indicating when he would be picking me up.  Nada.  Sure enough, he was online.  However, I felt it was not my duty to initiate a conversation with him.  The ball was in his court.  After a few minutes I grew somewhat impatient and sent him a quick message: "Why have you not called or contacted me?"  I decided to wait 4 minutes for him to respond, and after the time had lapsed, I sent him another message, indicating that he could forget our plans.

I hope what I did wasn't too harsh, but I honestly didn't see a reason to continue any sort of relationship or association with this guy.  His actions painted a clear picture for me: that he didn't value his plans with me enough to make any effort whatsoever.  I actually believe that, had I not decided to call it off myself, I would have been stood up.

So that's that.  I've learned that being alone is much better than having someone to be miserable with.  My gut feeling with this guy was that we were in no way right for each other, and I have concluded that my first impression was right.

Now I'm off to enjoy my weekend.  I mean, it's better to be able to watch a movie with yourself than endure a meal with someone you aren't comfortable with, isn't it?  =)

The Girl in the Café

Last night was my weekly overnight shift.  I used the opportunity to re-watch The Girl in the Café, which my mom gave me for my birthday last month.  

I love this film.  Bill Nighy and Kelly MacDonald both deliver seamless performances in their respective roles.  Lawrence (Nighy) is a lonely civil servant working under the British Chancellor; Gina (MacDonald) is the beautiful and mysterious young woman he meets in a café.  When Lawrence impulsively invites her to the G8 conference in Reykjavík, Iceland, Gina creates a stir that threatens Lawrence's career and their relationship.  Gina refuses to be silent about her belief in the importance of the most basic human rights, asserting that, for the first time in history, the people in the conference have the both the power and responsibility to wipe out severe poverty.

If nothing else, I love the use of Sigur Rós and Damien Rice in the soundtrack.  An unusual love story with a powerful message, The Girl in the Café is a film that stays with its audience.

Born Into Brothels

Wow.

This documentary is heartbreaking, inspiring, hopeful, and haunting.  English Photographer Zana Briski befriended a group of children whose mothers worked as prostitutes in the Red Light district of Calcutta.  Noticing their immediate interest in cameras, Briski began to teach the children photography, hoping that giving them a means to pursue art and education might enable them to build a better life than what the Red Light district had to offer.

This film was difficult to watch, yet spellbinding.  The daily abuse that these beautiful children suffer shakes my soul.  In such a situation, hope seems the farthest concept in the universe.  Yet it is there.  Some of the children featured in this film have left Calcutta and pursued education.  Some have fallen through the cracks.  The harsh reality of life for these people is hard to swallow, but the resilience and strength of the children is a beautiful thing.

Reading and Red Eye Shifts

It's late, and I'm starting to get tired.

I'm back at school, working my weekly overnight shift at the Switchboard.  Oddly enough, I don't mind working from 11pm-7am.  For starters, Sunday evenings are typically reserved as the day when the campus actually quiets down from the weekend's parties and gets serious about all that they didn't accomplish on Saturday.  Because of this, my nights are very quiet.  I have a solid eight hours to do whatever I want or need to do, as long as I stay at the desk and set door alarms hourly.  I'm free to use my laptop, watch TV or movies, work on homework, read...

Reading. *sigh* I cherish using this time to read: I am passionate about books.  Literature has shaped me in so many ways since as long as I can remember.  I believe that the unconscious current for my study of Bibliotherapy is the hope that I will be better able to pass the torch of self-discovery through books on to others.

Yet, since moving to college in 2009, I haven't had much time to read.  This is a problem.  I am most out of touch with myself when I don't read.  Literature grounds me into my identity, reinforces who and what I strive to be.  Without it, I sometimes find myself in limbo; the worst and most difficult parts of my life have also been times when I can't immerse myself in books.

Now, because I am studying Literature, I am assigned books to read– I'm not entirely starving for words.  However, there is a marked difference in books I read because I have to, and the books I read because I want to.  Sometimes a book I am assigned is something on my list of books to read, or an old favorite.  For example, a couple of weeks ago, my American Lit class read My Ántonia.  I adore Willa Cather, and was happy to have a chance to re-read one of my favorite novels.  Also, for my Honors seminar, we have to read The Brothers Karamazov.  I am likewise excited to read Dostoevsky's masterpiece in its entirety, as I have never had a chance to finish the book.

I've decided to compile a relatively short list of books that I would like to start (and finish!) before the end of the semester.  I tend to go way over the top when it comes to literature; I mean, I was on first name basis with all the librarians at the local library, which was practically my second home.  I am a textbook-case bibliophile.  I would often have 30 or 40 items checked out at a time, and I am also the only person I know of who has been reprimanded for having too many inter-library loans (I exceeded the 150 item limit my second semester at college).  Because of my over-zealous love for books, (and the fact that I need to keep up with my classes) I am hoping to keep myself in check with a realistic goal for the semester.

(The following descriptions are from various synopses I've picked up online... I didn't write them).

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson

This book "recounts the journey that led Mortenson from a failed 1993 attempt to climb Pakistan's K2, the world's second highest mountain, to successfully establish schools in some of the most remote regions of Afghanistan and Pakistan.  By replacing guns with pencils, rhetoric with reading, Mortenson combines his unique background with his intimate knowledge of the third-world to promote peace with books, not bombs, and successfully bring education and hope to remote communities in central Asia."

Little Princes by Conor Grennan

"In search of adventure, 29-year-old Conor Grennan traded his day job for a year-long trip around the globe, a journey that began with a three-month stint volunteering at the Little Princes Children’s Home, an orphanage in war-torn Nepal.  He was soon overcome by the herd of rambunctious, resilient children who would challenge and reward him in a way that he had never imagined. When Conor learned the unthinkable truth about their situation, he was stunned: The children were not orphans at all. Child traffickers were promising families in remote villages to protect their children from the civil war—for a huge fee—by taking them to safety. They would then abandon the children far from home, in the chaos of Nepal’s capital, Kathmandu.

For Conor, what began as a footloose adventure becomes a commitment to reunite the children he had grown to love with their families, but this would be no small task. He would risk his life on a journey through the legendary mountains of Nepal, facing the dangers of a bloody civil war and a debilitating injury." 

Skipping Town, Thrifting, and Yul Brynner

I write this from my own room at my parents house, drinking in the scent of candles and incense, reveling in home.  I had originally planned to come home Thursday night on the evening train– Wednesday afternoon, however, I was unexpectedly overcome with a very swaying impulse to leave a day early.  Being that the next day held no particularly important class assignments, I decided to pack and leave that night.

There is a freedom in boarding a train and feeling the swaying rhythm of the tracks, knowing that you are leaving your cares behind you, even if only for a short time.  The train had very few passengers (likely because it was a Wednesday) and I slept for most of the ride.

My mom picked me up at the station; it is good to see my family again.  The past two years have been a strange journey for my feelings about home.  I literally could not wait to get fast and far away from my parents when I first moved to college, and I can honestly say that I never once was homesick during the entire year.  This year, however, has been quite different.

I miss them.  I truly miss my parents and brothers and sisters when I'm away.  I miss my the vibrant diversity and rich arts community of the Twin Cities, I miss my kids (clients), I miss the local library, I miss being with my friends from home.  Under said circumstances, I hope to fully enjoy my truancy trip home.

Since everyone was either at school or work for most of the day, I hit up the local Goodwill.  May I just say: I adore thrift stores.  I'll admit that my enthusiasm for them has occasionally gone over the top, (there has been more than one time when I've re-donated impulsively purchased miscellaneous merchandise the day after I bought it) but for the most part thrifting has been an enriching experience.  I've also had the opportunity to explore and discover my personal style, which has in turn helped me to express my identity.  Today I found and bought several items of interest, including

• magnetic poetry (for my fridge at school)
• stationery and blank notes (for snail mail)
• recycled-sweater mittens
• multicolored tiered Boho skirt

(Also, over Christmas I came across the cutest little teapot and sugar bowl, which I couldn't resist posting below).

My cute thrift sugar-bowl and teapot (with preciously owned tea cups)

Inside view of recycled sweater mittens

Outside view mittens

I've barely been home 24 hours and I feel almost as though I never left.  It is a good feeling.  Everyone else is sleeping right now, but I don't want to go to bed yet.  This is probably because I know that my visit home will soon be over and I want to keep it alive. *sigh* I have a terrible impulse to stay up awhile longer.  I'm in a kind of Yul Brynner movie mood.  Lord, I love that man; so magnificent.  (For some reason, most of my celebrity crushes are deceased...  Why this is, I'm not quite sure.  Bad luck, maybe?).  I really want to watch Anastasia or The King and I right now...

No, no, I'm going to be responsible and get a good night's sleep.  I will post again soon, but for now I'm off to bed.  In the words of Yul: "So let it be written, so let it be done."

Laku noć! 

What's in a word?

Photograph by Natalie Roberts

My friend Justyna is one of the most elegant people I know.  There's something about her Euro-chic style that I've always admired and envied, something very sophisticated in her manner of speaking the way she carries herself.  It's not just her Polish accent either, although I wish my voice sounded as exotic.

Last weekend, Justyna and I were talking about linguistics, since I'm in the process of becoming bilingual.  Somehow we came upon the subject of lame words and the limits that many Americans have on their vocabularies.  Some guy had asked her to "chill" with him.  Without really asking her on a date, he decided to be as vague as possible, while still keeping his options open (at least this is what he seemed to think).  This whole thing made me think: How ridiculous! what does "chill" mean anyway?  Okay... I'll go outside with you into the snowbank and chill...?!  "Chill" brought about a full blown vent session at how overused and underused the capacity of the English language is.  It seems like "awkward," "cute," "hot," "cool," "attractive," and "interesting" are the only adjectives used nowadays.  (I remember several years ago the it word was "random."  Thankfully that one's gone out of style).

I was recently asked out by a guy whose reason for wanting to date me, he said, was my "awesome personality."  

Eh?

Okay, fine.  I shouldn't be too harsh: at least he tried.  Actually, he seemed to be a halfway decent guy, although our values and plans definitely did not match up and I turned him down.  But really!  Can you be more nondescript?  What does "awesome personality" even mean?  It certainly didn't provide a hint at what he really liked about me.  It would have meant more to me if he would have said something about liking the way I laugh at my own jokes or at least some indication that he was talking about me, and not just generically pegging any number of the world's population whose personality happens to "inspire awe" (whatever that means).

My carping on the depravity of the American vocabulary led me to seek help from an old friend: The Thesaurus.  Armed with this weapon of synonyms, I charged into battle against the shrinking vocabulary of America.  I believe that our overused adjective do struggle to describe common occurrences in the day to day life of a college student, so I have compiled a new and improved list of adjectives.

Overused word:  awkward: difficult to handle

New and improved synonyms: annoying, chancy, disagreeable, discommodious, embarrassing, hazardous, risky, uncomfortable


Overused word: attractive (also cute, hot and cool): appealing, drawing attention

New and improved synonyms: alluring, beckoning, captivating, charming, engaging, enthralling, enticing, fascinating, fetching, gorgeous, inviting, magnetic, mesmeric, stunning, tantalizing, winning

Overused word: interesting: entertaining

New and improved synonyms: absorbing, arresting, charismatic, compelling, engrossing, gripping, impressive, intriguing, inviting, refreshing, riveting, stirring, striking, unusual

So.  That is that.  I think my grammar professor would approve.  Aside from the self-satisfaction of sounding capable, now is a good time to build my vocabulary as it's never too early to start preparing for teaching English overseas.  I certainly want my students to learn better ways of inviting someone out than by asking them to "chill."  (Which I have found no synonyms for that actually fit the guy's use of the word that were worthwhile).

Until next time,
Winona

Hello

Welcome to my blog.  I hope that this site will become an enriching and worthwhile online journal experience, as well as a venue through which the wonders and mysteries of life can be explored.  Please feel free to comment and visit whenever you like!

A Note from My Little Corner of the World

I have decided...

that a post is way past due.

I apologize to you, my faithful readers. This summer, though a good one, was a very busy one, and left me with little time to blog. Aside from work, of course, was the inevitably busy move back to college, and it is only now (after being settled in for a good month) that I am returning to the blogosphere.

And what, indeed, does this world consist of?

To begin, I should mention that my first year at the University was a difficult one. I have no doubt in my mind that this is the place God wants me to be; no doubt at all. It's just been somewhat painful to return somewhere that was the place where I really broke my heart. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I love the mist on the bluffs in the morning, love the close-knit community, love my professors, love the bells that chime at noon and 6:00, love the cute college town my school is in– but I have to deal with some hardships that are left over from last year. On the upside, I figure that I made so many mistakes freshman year that I can't possibly mess up my second year without deliberate stupidity. So, as long as I keep myself in check and remember to trust, all shall be well.

A Few of My Favorite Things (About Being Back in College)

1. Bike Rides

Can I just say, I love my bicycle. Or, bicycles, rather. I have two. The one I brought with me to college last year is absolutely full of character. It was my grandmother's, and is: vintage, red, and says "Free Spirit" on it. Need I say more? Unfortunately, the Free Spirit suffers from old age, and I left it at my parents' house this year, instead bringing my newish mountain bike back with me. Although I miss the originality of the FS, I love how my other bike rides. Not to mention, this is a great form of exercise (and much needed, due to the fact that a good portion of my summer was spent driving and not being incredibly active).

2. Local Scenery

The "driftless region" of the upper midwest is not highly known around the rest of the country, but I believe it to be of exceptional beauty. Our campus is set in the valley of the sublimely wonderful bluffs, and since the school owns much of the land, I have the opportunity to take hikes through the woods any time I wish. Sometimes the most therapeutic thing I can do for myself is take a walk. Something about solitude in the midst of beauty brings healing, I've found.

3. Night Mass

Liturgy at 9pm on Sunday night has been a huge blessing for me. I'm a lector (usually for the second reading and the petitions) and I've felt that this is the right ministry for me to be involved in. Over the years many people have commented on my expressive oral reading, and it's been rewarding to use it during the mass. Also, I am so thankful for our priest. His faith is so evident in the way he truly cares about the students and makes an effort to get to know us. Not to mention, the time of this mass is very nice for a college student.

4. The Local Thrift Store

The local Salvation Army has become my new shopping haven. It is perfect for many of my shopping needs, for several reasons. First off, I prefer thrift stores to most other kinds. The prices are great, and the selection is sure to yield items that are unique and original. Also, there's just something about the atmosphere; you never know what you'll chance upon. My wardrobe has gleaned much from this store, but I have also found some nice decorative additions to my room: pottery, blankets, dishes, etc. Another nice thing is that I am within walking and biking distance of this very lovely flea market of sorts.

5. Letter Writing

I hope to resurrect the so-called "lost art" of letter writing while I'm away at school. So far, I have done quite well in this endeavor, if I can say so myself. I've made an effort to write to friends, relatives and clients from all over the place, including the Twin Cities, Wisconsin, Duluth, Fargo, Alaska, California, Ireland and Germany. I love to keep in touch through intimately written letters; I believe that an especially personal touch comes with a handwritten letter. (And it is very nice to find a reply in my mailbox!)

*sigh*

With that thought, I should probably get off the computer, as my roommates are getting ready to wind down and I still haven't finished my Plato homework for tomorrow. Adieu, faithful readers! 

Midsummer Musings

Greetings to my faithful and beloved readers. I regret that it's been so long since I've posted an actual entry regarding my thoughts, feelings and two cents on life and the world. Therefore, this post will have to serve at my attempt to reconcile with my long silence.

First of all, I'm back at my parents home for the summer months. It's been an adjustment, being back at home, not least of all because all five of my siblings are also living here. Despite inevitably losing some freedom by living again under the roof of my parents, I'm okay. College was truly a wonderful experience for me, but there came with it a lot of pain and I'm glad to have some time to recuperate before I jump back in again. I think I will be ready by the time the day comes to move.

Being home also means working; having a job and making money. This is good. My work-study job at the school library during the academic year was definitely not my favorite. Not to mention, having a bit of money is nice too; during the school year, 85% of my wages went toward tuition, so twice a month, I would have about $15 deposited into my checking account. I always tried to stretch it is much as possible at the grocery store or the Salvation army, but despite my efforts, it only would amount to a couple boxes of granola from the organic aisle sometimes a good steal at the thrift store, and a few dollars left over to save for coffee or a movie ticket. So, being employed is nice.

I really enjoy my job, too. I am a PCA, and for those of you not familiar with the title, it means "Personal Care Assistant." Basically, my job is that of an intensely focused role, between a babysitter and a social worker, much of the time. I'm more directly involved than a babysitter would be, (plus, as is the case with my clients who are children, their parents and I work together as a team through their issues) but less of a therapist than a social worker would be.  I love my kids like they were my own.

I've been thinking about all the changes the past 11 months have brought to my life, and I can say with certainty that it has been a dynamic year. I'm glad of that. Even though I've fallen flat on my face (metaphorically speaking), I've learned perhaps better than ever before to understand the grace that comes with picking ourselves up again. I've learned so much about who I am, and who I wish to become. I've loved and been loved, hurt and been hurt. And in the middle of the swirling vortex of what is life and existence I've realized: all of this pain and beauty is part of what makes us human. And I love having the gift of being human, and being alive. To wake up with each new day and breathe and to have the ability to make my love known to the world. It's a wonderful thing.

This past weekend my friend Destiny and I went to Lilith Fair, (for those of you not familiar with Lilith, it's an all-female music festival; like Feminist Woodstock). I was blown away at the talent and power of the music. Being a musician myself, I felt inspired by the versatile abilities of many performers. I've been playing the violin since I was 6, and I have decided that I would like to expand my instrumental repertoire. My mother used to play the acoustic guitar when she was about my age. In fact, some of my earliest memories involve her playing while singing "Blowin in the Wind" and "One Tin Soldier." Her guitar is in beautiful condition and I am hoping to take lessons this coming semester. I've been playing around with different melodies, so maybe by the time I go back to school I'll know one song.

Another skill I am hoping to master is language; particularly the Croatian tongue. I checked out audio curricula to help, and my grandpa has been teaching me some phrases as well. I hope that I will have a decent grasp on the language when my little brother and I travel out to the Motherland two summers from now (or at least that's our plan at the moment).

You know, I really wish I had some decent photographs for this blog. I don't have a camera of my own right now. See, being sort of an old soul, I had hoped to master film photography with my grandpa's old camera. I had a fun time shooting pictures, but was informed that my camera has a light leak; none of the pictures turned out. Maybe I'll give in and just get a digital. Until then, I will have to hope that my words are visual enough.

I'm really beginning to ramble now, so I will end this post. I hope all of my readers are well.

The Young and the Hopeless

As one of six children, I've experienced a wide variety of music through the years, swapping CDs with my brothers and sisters. This week, I found an old CD of my brother's and began listening to it with a new set of ears. The Young and the Hopeless by Good Charlotte, a 2002 album, was something I would listen to occasionally back in the eighth grade; in retrospect, it is an excellent presentation of music and lyrics.

The Madden twins, Joel and Benji, are the most recognizable of the band. Truthfully, I know little about the other members of Good Charlotte. What I like about the Madden brothers and the lyrics of their music is the message to never give up, to have hope, even when times are hard. The album features tracks that allude to the twins' father leaving their family, such as "The Story of My Old Man" and "Emotionless." The lyrics to "Emotionless" are very sad but touched with a feeling of peace and forgiveness:

It's been a long hard road without you by my side /Why weren't you there the nights that we cried /You broke my mother's heart /You broke your children for life /It's not ok but we're alright /I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes /But those are just a long lost memory of mine /Now I'm writing just to let you know /I'm still alive

My favorite track is probably "Hold On," whose message is exactly what the title implies: hope.

I definitely recommend The Young and the Hopeless. It's a good mix of the difficult feelings typical to teens; I vividly remember those times of anxiety and rebellion and wanting to break out of my shell; Good Charlotte provided a positive, encouraging and charmingly punk soundtrack to it.

Capuccinos and Poetry

One of my favorite things about University life is all the creative outlets I am allowed. On Friday, I participated from a collaborative poetry reading combining poets from both my private university and the larger state university at a bohemian style coffeehouse downtown.

I read two of my own poems, following a sort of free verse personification of myself into a fish in the first poem, and a bird in the second. A friend of mine filmed by performance of my bird poem, for those of you who are interested in hearing it.

(Please excuse the watermark on the video; I didn't want to pay for the software to remove it.)

Canadian Ladies

Earlier this semester I was fortunate to see one of my favorite groups perform in concert. Heather Masse, Nicky Mehta and Ruth Moody make up Canadian folk trio, The Wailin' Jennys. I've been a fan of folk music since my days in junior high. The Jennys offer their own blend of sounds with meaningful and heartfelt lyrics The multifaceted talent of these women (and their fiddler and mandolinist, Jeremy Penner) is displayed through a wide range of vocals (alto Heather, mezzo Nicky and soprano Ruth) as well as the guitar, harmonica, accordion, among other instruments.

The timelessness of the Jennys' music is evidenced in the words to their angelic music:

"Got a heart that opens clear in this cool September dark /It rests on treetop leaves /And bursts its little sparks /And sometimes it sings its songs /And it lets its secrets out /Except for one that sears inside /That it cannot live without /But if I tell you will you take it /Will you shine it up to me /Can you be strong to let me go on /And set this freedom free"

-"Ten Mile Stilts" from 40 Days

The Wailin' Jennys are true artists with a deep insight into the beauty of life.

Snow and Music

A few months back, I signed up to be a DJ for campus radio. Since that time, I have been searching to broaden my repertoire of music. Two talented women have recently made my playlist of lesser known, artistic music.

American harpist, pianist, singer-songwriter Joanna Newsom was suggested to me awhile back by a friend, but I hadn't discovered her beautifully bizzare music for myself until very recently.

Newsom's whimsical lyrics and eccentric voice make a unique sound that is very fresh and original. There is an element of wonderment in each of her songs.

We sailed away on a winter's day/With fate as malleable as clay/But ships are fallible, I say/And the nautical, like all things, fades and I/Can recall our caravel:/A little wicker beetle shell/With four fine maste and lateen sails/Its bearings on Cair Paravel

-"Bridges and Balloons" from The Milk-Eyed Mender

The wonderful world of Pandora introduced me to Canadian instrumentalist and singer-songwriter Basia Bulat.

Bulat's soulful voice versatilely compliments songs of sentiment as well as power. Her variety is impressive; both lighter folk sounds and faster, stronger music is found on her debut album, Oh, My Darling. In addition to her talent as a lyricist and vocalist, Bulat plays the guitar, dulcimer, ukelele, autoharp and piano, which she incorporates into her varied songs.

Both women are real artists of their medium, and I recommend them to anyone with a taste for music with a deeper meaning. 

Tree Hugger

I am a highly emotional person. And don't get me wrong, I love having the capacity for feeling that I do. I wouldn't have it any other way; I like being able to feel human. Yet...

There are times when I need centering. I often need to reevaluate my current situation before getting too carried away with the moment.

For these reasons, solitude is vital to my well being. I love people very much, but when my mind whirls with emotions so violently that I can't hear my own thoughts, I need to get away from it.

I am, again, so sure that I've chosen the right college. The landscape here is teeming with beauty, and when I need to be alone, (weather permitting) I can walk through woods and fields and just be still in the silence.

God is so alive in nature. I know that "tree-hugger" can carry a negative connotation with it, but I am not ashamed to say that I am one. When I feel alone and sad, perhaps the most comforting thing I can to is wrap my arms around the trunk of a tree and hold it tight. This actually physically centers me, as well as providing me with a sense of emotional stability. I honestly believe that if more people did this; actually took a moment to be a part of nature; many problems could be caught and solved in a positive way. Ever since I was little I have found the act of hugging trees to be such a comfort, and I am thankful that it still helps me today.

Photograph by Blasius Erlinger.

The Outsiders

"I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand them and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore."

It is the early 1960’s in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Ponyboy Curtis, a newly turned fourteen year old, finds himself caught up in the growing tensions between the poor gang he and his brothers belong to, the lower class "Greasers," and the elite "Socs," rich kids from the other side of town. Raised by his older brothers, Ponyboy, is somewhat outside of the gang himself. Smart and very sensitive, he loves books and movies, and constantly struggles to find his place of belonging amidst the inevitable severity of his life. He dislikes fighting and constantly questions the nature of the hate between groups as well as his place it it.

"Soda fought for fun, Steve for hatred, Darry for pride, and Two-Bit for conformity. Why do I fight? I thought, and couldn't think of any real good reason."

I remember my mom praising this book when I was little and, as she said, "not old enough to read it." Somehow, even when I was "old enough," The Outsiders slipped under the radar of my reading aspirations. Now, I am infinitely grateful to finally have read it; it has opened up windows in my mind and heart to real problems that are still prevalent today. It may not be Greasers and Socs anymore, but there is still so much animosity that can exist between people with differences, whether is be social classes, cultures or subcultures, ethnicities, lifestyles... I love this book because it is a story that radiates truth: whatever walk of life you are on, we are all human beings and, deep down inside ourselves, we are not much different from the next person.

Sometimes, as a female, I find it hard to relate to a book consisting almost entirely of males. This is definitely not the case with The Outsiders. It was beautiful to witness, through Ponyboy's voice, the wide range of emotion faced by the young men in the book. I was touched to see the fierce loyalty and brotherly love that Ponyboy and his gang held for one other.

The compassion this book invokes in its reader reminds me of the film Boys Town, when Father Flanagan says, "There is no such thing as a bad boy"... I wanted to open my arms to Ponyboy and bring him out of the near constant violence and hate that the surrounded him. I'm amazed that such a powerful work was written by a sixteen year old girl (who, at that time, earned a "D" in her creative writing class). In Ponyboy, S.E. Hinton captured the spirit of a boy whose pure heart was yet untainted by the adversity that encompassed his world; a bright light in a cavern of darkness.

One of the most powerful passages is from a note written to Ponyboy from his dying friend,

"I want you to tell Dally to look at [a sunset.] He'll probably think you're crazy, but ask for me. I don't think he's ever really seen [one]. . . There's still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."

I cannot recommend The Outsiders highly enough. Read it.

Life.

Life has been difficult lately. It seems one family crisis just leads into another. In the wee hours of this morning, one my brothers was mugged and beat up at gunpoint. It hurts to see his pain, but my biggest prayer has been one of thanks, thanks for his life. Please pray for us. In these times of uncertainty, I can only hope and pray for a future of peace and goodwill toward our fellow brothers and sisters.

"We shall find peace. We shall hear angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds."

-Anton Chekhov

I Capture the Castle

Every so often, a reader unexpectedly comes across a real gem of a book. So I did, with Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle.

Set on the English countryside in the 1930's, seventeen year old Cassandra Mortmain begins the story by recording her peculiar life in a half-penny journal. Living in a state of more or less comfortable poverty in a crumbling castle that is her home, Cassandra is surrounded by a colorful backdrop of characters. From her detached, eccentric father who once wrote a bestselling book but has given up writing, to her loving but maudlin stepmother, Topaz, who likes to take moonlit walks dressed in nothing at all, to her beautiful but melancholy sister Rose, life at the castle is never quite normal.

Cassandra and her family are unexpectedly met with a stroke of fortune when their poverty is at its worst. American brothers, Simon and Neil Cotton, show up at the castle as the new landlords. Rose immediately launches a plan to have one fall in love with her to escape her life, but Cassandra remains in the background, quietly observing the changes that occur. Her life is also about to change, drastically.

I fell in love with the characters and setting, but most of all with the marvelous insight of the narrator. Dodie Smith created a real treasure in a such a narrator as Cassandra. I could not put this book down, and even after finishing it I find myself revisiting the story in my mind.

Going Green

Lately, I've become a bit of a freak about using organic products. After reading Squeaky Green: The Method Guide to Detoxing Your Home, I decided that it was time to stop buying harmful products pumped full of toxins, parabens and pesticides, and begin to buy clean, biodegradable, earth-friendly alternatives.

Method, the line of products created by Eric Ryan and Adam Lowry, offers safe, non-toxic cleaning supplies, that really get the job done. I was very pleased to see the effect they had on the old grout and tile on my bathroom floor.

I am a fan of aromatherapy. I am interested in making essential oils a bigger part of my own health and beauty care products. I found A'kin hand soap on clearance at Target, and have been thrilled with its quality. Also, the scents are incredible and really put me in a better mood.

My naturally wavy hair has been a trial for me. Every time I wash it, I used to fear how it would dry. This usually resulted either in a frizzy mess or an overly gelled down ponytail (I discarded my straightener after having to get inches and inches cut off due to two-and-a-half years of frying the curl away.) Thankfully, I found a new line of all-natural hair care, Yes to Carrots, which uses Dead Sea minerals and carrot juice, my oppressed follicles have been experiencing wonders.

Burt's Bees also offers a great line of natural products. I am especially taken by their lip balm and hand creams. I always feel better with a balm of beeswax and natural ingredients on my lips than when I can taste the artificiality of synthetic lipstick and gloss.

Stay tuned for other personal endorsements as I try out new green ideas!

NOTE: If you're a guy and reading this, you may not be especially interested in the beauty products mentioned, but I strongly recommend reading Squeaky Green for tips on detoxing your home. 

The Historian

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I have been mostly bedridden since my surgery, and have had plenty of time to read and sleep.  Thanks to this opportunity, I was finally able to finish The Historian, a book introduced to me by my grandma several months ago.

Elizabeth Kostova weaves a gripping narrative story that involves the research of centuries, three narrators, and one unsleeping, undead manifestation of evil: Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, also known as Dracula.

A teenage girl, the daughter of a historian, is swept away in a search for her father, who disappears after a strange series of events, with only letters of research and documentation he left her, and Barley, a college student, to guide her through Europe as she embarks after her father.  Through the letters, the narrative of a journey decades before is told through Paul, the girl's father, and how he and Helen Rossi, a spirited Hungarian woman, are thrown together in a quest to save Paul's mentor, Helen's father, who has seemingly been taken by Dracula.

As the quests unfolded, I felt as through I was in the midst of an exciting and compelling history lecture.  Although the story is fiction, the research is fact.

A darkly gripping read.  Recommended for thrill-seekers, mystery lovers and historians alike.