monday musings: minor key

I'm the type of person who, when I love a song, I listen to it over and over and over again until I literally get sick of it. This has inspired the hubby to buy me headphones so I cannot torture him with my current musical obsessions.

I love all types of music (except for certain genres of country and R&B, but that's a different story entirely). I'm a sucker for good instrumental pieces as well. Anything with strings or piano in a minor key is an instant hit for me. Perhaps this stems from my love of movie soundtracks.

Anyway, here are two songs that have been on my "Replay" list lately. Enjoy!

Also, if you have any favorite instrumental songs, please tell me in the comments. I'm always looking for good music!

in remembrance

As the day inches closer, it is impossible to ignore. September 11th is upon us, and this year it's especially poignant.
I was fourteen years old when the twin towers fell. Like most people, I remember the moment I heard very clearly. I was homeschooled at the time, working on math problems in the kitchen when the house phone rang. My mother answered. I heard her gasp all the way from the other room and I knew something terrible had happened. She hung up the phone and told me that an airplane had flown into the World Trade Center. At the time, I didn't understand the magnitude of her words. I didn't even know what the World Trade Center was. But as soon as we flipped on our television, I understood.
I was fortunate enough to be somewhat distanced from these attacks. No one I knew or loved had been caught in the towers or trapped in those planes. Even though I was not personally involved, the significance of what happened that day still latched on to me. As I'm sure it did to most, if not every American.
As a nation, it changed us. It warped our views of the world, let us realize that we didn't exist in a tiny detached bubble. Terror and uncertainty, something that is a way of life for much of the world, suddenly became intimate with the American populace.
It changed the way we interacted with the rest of the world. It changed the way we traveled. It changed the way we told stories. (Come to think of it, was 9/11 the real force behind the rise of dystopian literature? Hm...)
While it introduced us to fear, it also revealed our strength and resilience as a nation. It showed us that we could meet that fear and rise above it. We could move forward with strength.
And so tomorrow, this is what I shall dwell on with confidence. I will remember the dead, but I will also learn to face my fears and move past them. The past can so easily paralyze us. But it doesn't have to control our future. That is in our hands. I think this is something we as a nation have done well. It is something I must remind myself of every day.
Here's to remembering and moving forward.

friday vlog: surprise! (and no it's not my big news...)

Sometimes you just need a change...

the most wonderful time of the year (one of them at least)

The lovely season of autumn is finally showing its face in the Lowcountry. I know this because of two things.

1. When I stepped outside my door yesterday morning I got chilly. There were goosebumps on my skin and the thermometer (on my computer, I don't own a real one) said it was in the 70s. The 70s!!! I immediately ran back inside and grabbed a scarf. Not because I actually needed it, but because it's such a novel concept here in the south.

2. I was doing one of the more mundane things in life (ie grocery shopping), when my eyes lit upon these:

What's this I see? A mallowpumpkin patch!

The best kind of garden. :)

Gold in a candy bag. Seriously. These are my kryptonite. These and those little Necco candy hearts they sell at Valentine's day. Two years ago, when I was living overseas, I specially requested that my friends in the states send me bags of Mallowcreme pumpkins. I was so desperate for these candies, that when my American co-teacher spilled the bag all over the floor, I gathered them up and stuffed them back in. Perhaps not my proudest moment ever.
My South Korean co-teachers ooed and awed about how cute these candies were. Sadly, they were too sweet for my foreign friends. And many of my generously donated Mallowpumpkins were spit back into the trash can.
But now, I can drive to the nearest grocery store and buy bags of them. *laughs evilly*

Needless to say, I am incredibly excited about fall this year. One of the reasons is that I happened to skip the season last year. How do you skip a season? By hanging out in the Southern hemisphere and around the equator for the months of September-November. Thus I am so excited to wear sweaters, carve pumpkins, watch the marsh turn to tawny gold and bake all sorts of cinnamon spiced goods. Perhaps tomorrow I'll even treat myself to a pumpkin latte!

What are you guys doing for fall? I need some festive ideas. You know, just to be festive.

oh to be a child once more

Although I've only been out of college for two years (feels like ages longer, sadly), I've actually held down work in the same type of job throughout most of it. Early childhood education. Much of this is complete irony, as I swore up and down that I would never EVER be a teacher (despite my pursuit of a degree in English). This is why I did not pursue the education track at my university. Husband and I decided to move to South Korea, where we could travel and earn a good deal of money. Sadly, the only jobs there we were qualified for was teaching English. I relinquished my vows of teaching chastity for the sake of seeing the world.
Little did I expect I might actually enjoy it. I taught 5 year old boys who, while crazy and wild, are also some of the most imaginative creatures you will ever meet.
I am now back in America and filling my mornings as a preschool teacher. This involves watching 2 year old boys for four hours every morning. I love it. There's something about being around children that's so freeing. You being to remember what it was like to have a boundless imagination. Something can turn into anything. The tile floor becomes and ocean or a boiling pit of lava. Chairs become full blown pirate ships and tables are islands you swim to in order to bury your treasure (plastic food cans).
And I realized this morning, while I was donning a tiny pirate jacket and pink glitter, faery wings, that I needed to be more like them. Much like these children I watch, I too have to immerse myself in a world of imagination every day. In order to write a novel with a convincing world and convincing characters, I have to trust in the power of make-believe. That's really what writing is. Grown-up make believe. With poetic turns of phrase and cool plot lines. We can't afford to lose our imaginations. I think a lot of people do. They sit and wonder why children are so fascinated with sticks and running around in circles in the mud. I like to think that I haven't lost this magic all of the way. I don't fool myself. I know my active imagination isn't quite as wild or strange as it was when I was a wee one (see example below). But I want to think that my younger imaginings were so bizarre that I carried some semblance of originality into my adulthood (which I'm still in slight denial about).
So, writers, want good ideas for stories? Hang out with kids and try to wedge your way into their imagination time. It's refreshing. And it helps you remember how much your brain can flex.


In my effort to revive my childhood imagination, I decided to read back through an essay I wrote in third grade. Do enjoy.

monday musings: heroes and men

"[...] I could never deem

As Payne Knight did [...]

That Homer's heroes measured twelve feet high.

They were but men: -- his Helen's hair turned grey

Like any plain Miss Smith's who wears a front;

And Hector's infant whimpered at a plume

As yours last Friday at a turkey-cock.

All actual heroes are essential men,

And all men possible heroes: every age,

Heroic in proportions, double-faced,

Looks backward and before, expects a morn

And claims an epos."

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh, 1857

I have always loved this passage of poetry and the message behind it. Ms. Barrett Browning makes a good point: all of the great heroes that history idolizes--all of the wonderful, stoic figures of our past were simply men. They had lives very similar to yours and mine until something set them apart. It was a particular combination of choices and circumstance that set them in the idylls and legends of history. But all men (and women, of course!) are possible heroes. How often do we have the opportunity and choice to set ourselves apart? When do we miss it? How can we become heroes in our own lives?

Pompeii, Italy - David Strauss c2009

friday vlog: what waiting drives me to.

 Happy Friday, friends! Please ignore the fact that the book covers are backwards. (Oops.)

Edit: Just realized that Monday is in fact, Labor day and not "Momorial" day. They kind of blend together in my head...