Slump

Sometimes I am so keyed up with anticipation that I'm left totally immobile save for a kind of involuntary buzzing. Work has been busy. Studying has begun. My birthday is this week. My sister is moving across the country. It's hard to take a step when my mind is going off in so many directions. On top of that, I started Donna Tartt's Goldfinch. Where is my strength? I wonder. Where is the energy for all of these lovely pursuits and better selves?

Meanwhile, I've pretty much watched this video more than 50 times since it was posted:

Peter

The husband and I will be watching the premiere of Doctor Who tomorrow. We've valiantly avoided to watch the episode on BBC America and I haven't looked at my Twitterfeed in the past 24 hours. David Tennant will always be "my doctor", but Matt Smith had a great run too.

Maureen Ryan had nice things to say about the episode and I'm excited about the reboot as, with the exception of the 50th anniversary special, the last batch of episodes have felt a little stale. Stephen Moffat will come through, I think. I hope.

My birthday is in a few weeks. A big one. Though I'm inclined to say that I'm okay with it and be sincere, sometimes I forget myself. I wonder if I could be at a different place. If I could be happier. If I could be less or more than I am. I'm going to watch Doctor Who tomorrow and try not to worry about it.

Bright

I wanted to write about Guardians of the Galaxy which I watched on Wednesday for the husband's birthday, but found that I didn't have a lot to say. I am so happy to see Chris Pratt, the movie star as I like him so much. The movie itself was funny and entertaining. I guess it just didn't give me cause for a whole lot of introspection, but it was fun.

I also watched the first episode of Outlander last week. It's hard to ignore Ron Moore and I admire Caitriona Balfe's Claire already. I don't get Starz so we'll see how into the show I get. My self-imposed summer break feels like it's coming to a close and I'm not sure how eager I am to get wrapped into a show once I go back to intense study mode.

I'm pathetically behind on my yearly goal to finish 50 books before the end of the year. But I'm in the middle of Alice Munro's Dear Life. I want to finish before I make up my mind. I just finished The Love Letters of Dylan Thomas. I was hoping for one thing and got something else. I wanted to be dazzled and touched. The peek into his thoughts were still good though.

Meanwhile, this song has been on my mind a lot lately:

Work

Although I adore the original, I have been inexplicably obsessed with Maxwell's cover of Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work". I always gravitate towards sad songs, but this song doesn't make me hurt. It makes me feel warm and comforted. It articulates what love feels like for me, not just the words. I marvel at how I fell so completely in love when my predilection leans closer to solitude and fear. I am amazed at the capacity my love could swell over the years. Love doesn't expel the fear or the solitude. It doesn't extinguish loneliness. My flaws, my cracks are still apparent, but love fills me. It consumes and shapes and I find I am more of the person I want to be in this love.

 

24

In Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close terms the 24^th of July is my “worst day”. Another one passed and I tried a different approach this year, namely indulging in Pie and Beer Day. My sweet husband left work early and made me a delicious pear gruyere pie as inspired by Pushing Daisies.

I also went to see Begin Again which I wished I would have liked more. The critique of the music industry was a little too preachy for me and it was hard not to wonder if John Carney was a little resentful over his Once success. Plus, Keira Knightley is a wonderful actress, but I wasn't entirely sold on her singing voice. Maybe the songs needn't have pushed me into making unfair Marketa Irglova comparisons?

The one bright spot of the movie was when, in a drunken pity party of two (with the amazing James Corden), Keira Knightley's character, Gretta writes a sad love song and leaves it on her ex's voicemail. In the last line, her voice catches and her pain is so clear. The sincerity and earnestness I was hoping to see throughout the movie is there in that one moment. The song is called "Like a Fool" and I encourage you to skip the movie and watch the clip on YouTube. Hmm, maybe that's too harsh? Maybe, wait until the movie's on Netflix? 

Fringe

I am bingeing hard on Fringe right now. I can't say why I never watched it when it was on the air, but given the lukewarm Alan Sepinwall reaction it's not too surprising. After the stress case I've been this first half of the year, I needed this show. John Noble's performance as Walter Bishop is so great as is his relationship with his son, Peter played by Joshua Jackson. It also feeds into my intense Pacey Witter crush of yesteryear. I would be remiss to exclude Anna Torv, as Olivia. She kicks trash, saves the day, saves herself, and saves the world.

I don't mind so much living in my small universe with the small group of people that I love and that love me. It doesn't feel so bad or absent or lacking in something more shiny. In short, it is the complete opposite feeling from the time I binge watched Battlestar Galactica and thought the universe was doomed and there was no point to life. I can't say that all this TV watching has helped my writing, nor do I know what I'll be occupying my time with once I finish these last few episodes of the series. I hope  I can hold on to this feeling that I'm okay for as long as I can.

Dreaming

I went to see Lauryn Hill at the Twilight Concert Series this past Thursday. This was the second time I have seen her live. Though the heavy winds and rain threatened, it was wonderful to see this R&B angel in white give me a surge of nostalgia that was the musical background at a particularly difficult time in my life.

I am resigned to the fact that I'm a wistful person. But I wonder if I rely too heavily on nostalgia, on the past. It sometimes makes it harder to feel things in the present. To be present, I guess. I've had Sam Smith's cover of Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know" on heavy rotation. A sweet twist on another nostalgic favorite. The longing is so beautiful.

Faults

I hadn't intended to, but I watched The Fault in Our Stars over the weekend. This was basically the superbowl of weepy teen movies. And I have always had a slippery hold on my emotions especially when showcased through the lens of cinematic introspection.

I went as a means of distraction and bawled my way through it. Hazel and Gus meet at a cancer support group and fall in love. They are sixteen and everything about their story seems so very short.

Along with the general weepiness, the ATX Festival had an Everwood reunion yesterday and I was immediately brought back to my favorite TV show. I'm pretty sure nostalgia will keep me from loving any other television show with the same fervor. Andy and Ephram Brown. A grieving husband who wants to love his two kids but never really tried before to even know them. His distance has made his son a stranger, but there's still hope. Still love. Man, creator Greg Berlanti can make me cry like no boy has ever done.

To Live and Love

I saw Only Lovers Left Alive yesterday. So many feels. Two vampires played by Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton (Adam and Eve). The movie starts with a spinning record and I was hooked. What is life if it's not finite? How does it stay precious? How do you keep going? Eve has lived for thousands of years. Adam only hundreds. He refers to man as zombies and I wonder how apt the description can be. Yet there is Eve, his companion in everything, pointing out the ebbs and flows of humanity. She is enlivened by the survival. She touches objects and defines their place in the world. She is literally surrounded by words. The film is consuming and wonderful.

Trophy

Although it took me awhile to get into it (the title is inexplicably bad), I was sad to hear that Trophy Wife got cancelled. It was silly and corny and funny and sweet. All these weirdos seemed to genuinely care about it each other and the humor was ridiculously on point for me.

There are a lot of shows in the new TV season that I'm excited to give a chance, but this loss made me the saddest.

Stone

I am girl crushing hard on Emma Stone. Between her thoughts on skinny shaming, the Stuff Mom Never Told You Podcast and Amy Poehler's thoughts on body image, I've had my appearance very much on my mind lately. I also cut my hair yesterday. I'm so happy with it, but the change is forcing me to look in the mirror more often than I usually do.

I am confronted with a lot of...lack. There are things I can change about this dissatisfaction like a brand new haircut (seriously, my hair smells awesome), and others more that I can never hope to change. Not without drastic measures anyway. Amy Poehler's advice was to focus on a physical feature that was not  terrible, maybe even pretty great. After running through some false starts, I settled on one. I like the shape of my lips. They are full and curve nicely. Arriving at this conclusion took longer than it probably should have. I don't know. It feels a little silly to talk about especially since I consider myself the bookish nerd with the "nice personality". I do think there's value to feeling good in your skin.

Is it weird that I just keep coming back to the movie Little Women where Marmee gives advice to Meg?

20 Feet

I watched 20 Feet From Stardom last week. The movie follows several backup singers that have sung for some of the most famous singers and bands. It spotlights their talent, their dreams, and their journeys. There is a lot of disappointment for these women and not for lack of talent or hard work. Sometimes dreams never materialize even when you've done everything right.

When the movie showcased Lisa Fischer, I was mesmerized. Her voice is magic. Strong. Transcendent.  She talks about singing like it's a fragile thing, a gift that she treasures. I know that to be true. My dad could sing in a way that would make people stop whatever they were doing to listen. His voice was sweet but commanding. When I was little I tried to sing like him. I didn't have the Mariah Carey voice that I revered, but my voice was strong too and singing made feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I miss it. That clarifying feeling. I worry that one day I'll look and it won't be there anymore. Singing is tied up with being brave and I have trouble doing both things, but I'm working on the brave part. 

Happy

Last week's his and hers Easter baskets

I have a tendency to think as 'future' changes to 'present' with time, 'life', and more specifically, MY life, will have clarified somehow. I will know more things. Or maybe it's more, I will "not know" fewer things. I don't know why I continue in this belief as it seldom works in this way of thinking.

I grow. I regress. I dream of changes and brace for them. I wonder if I will always be this afraid. I wait for moments where I can be brave. I see happiness inches from my fingertips and convince myself I can feel it. Today, I feel it. Nothing is different from yesterday, but I can feel happy today. My thoughts are cyclical. My life is cyclical. But not bad. Not enough material to complain about. Not today.

Oscar

Although I had a really good laugh reading my Twitterfeed after the initial, "Did he just say...?", I'm feeling a little bad for John Travolta. Surely his mispronunciation was on par with the Paul McCartney "Lawrence Hill" 1999 MTV awards incident. Or the 2000 VMA's where Ricky Martin butchered Aaliyah's name so much, I think they actually cut it out in rebroadcasts. Just sayin'. Let it go, people.

Waiting for Fall

I can see fall on the horizon, my favorite season, even amidst this blistering weather. I've been trying to find good podcasts lately; ploughed through This American Life and Freakonomics, listened to Alec Baldwin's Here's the Thing. I'm realling digging A Way With Words with author, Martha Barnette and lexicographer, Grant Barrett. They talk about language, grammar, colloquialisms, etymology etc. Nerd meet fellow nerds. Which brings me back to fall again. Love the change in the weather, comfy sweaters, pretty new boots and coats, the start of a new school year, Oktoberfest and my birthday. Can't wait.

Swimming

It is almost always the small things that seem to change my whole day. My RSS feed picked up this link to a video created from an excerpt of a David Foster Wallace commencement address (#iheartswiss miss). After being frightened off by the gajillion page Infinite Jest, I feel like I might just try again. Today, in the 108 degree weather, the power momentarily stalling the Trax train I was on to go home (and with that the air conditioning) and the pathetic lunch of packaged Udon noodles and bruised banana, I had a lot of material with which I could feel particularly sorry for myself. But I got home after a very long day, happy for the start of the weekend, greeted by a very cool apartment and yesterday's leftovers from Pat's BBQ. 

And I think, this is water. There was a comment on Tina's website that wondered if the video's message changed because the speaker committed suicide. I don't think it does at all. The message says life is hard and more than that, life is boring and tedious and frustrating. Choosing to find meaning, to find reasons why or why not, gives power. It gives freedom. Ofcourse, Doctor Who says it best:



And then they go to the museum and Amy can't understand why, after all of that, Vincent still kills himself: it's not naive to see the good things. Not hopeless either. Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

Titus

Sometimes I wonder if people see me, see the person I would like to be or just the person who's trying. It's exhausting to live up to this imagined person, who looks awfully similar, sounds about the same, and may or may not smell nicer.

Meanwhile, I'm still plugging along, a little delusion in my time management juggling, but keeping my ahead above water.

This vid made me un-naturally happy and inspired:

Play

Pic of my (brave?) lil' sis jumping off a waterfall into 5ft of water

In my early years of elementary school I learned two things. I would be taught how to mail a letter and how to tell time.

Around middle school, I learned that in a few years I would be taught how to drive.

These three lessons stick out in my mind because, for whatever reason, I had this tremulous conviction that I would be terrible at all three things. Nothing real led me to believe this would be the case, but I approached all three tasks with dread, certain I was doomed for failure, wondering if I would be less of a person if I didn't try at all.

Thankfully, I can send mail without trouble. I can tell time. I can also drive reasonably well (and only occasionally get sympathetic stares when parallel parking).

A few months ago, my piano teacher informed me that there would be a recital for all of her students. Surely I was not part of this inclusion, I said to her with my eyes and my face. Not hearing me in this mode of conversation, she told me I could do a duet with the husband AND I could do the left side of the duet so people wouldn't even see me!

I thought this through, and immediately regretted acquiescing to her request.

Today was the recital, and though the husband and I were the only students over the age of fourteen, we did pretty well. Only two pretty negligible mistakes from me and one even less noticeable mistake from the husband.

There has been a lot of change going on in my life these past few months. I have been afraid. I have been anxious. I have wondered how things will possibly turn out okay.

And then they just do. Not always in the way I want. Not nearly as successfully as I hope. But they just do.

Surprise

I had every intention of posting sooner, even sooner TODAY than right now, but one of my favorite bloggers, Liz of the The Park Bench has returned from a two year hiatus and I pretty much had to stop everything I was doing and read every post she had up until today. Also, I've been listening to "These Words" by Jill Andrews on repeat and it's created a weird kind of sad/happy/wistful/sleepy feeling in me.

On principle, I hate surprises and their dumb tendency to sneak up on a person completely unawares. But these are nice surprises. (Song starts at 3:40)

Moonrise Kingdom

Source: ggariba.blogspot.com via Riana on Pinterest

I've been enjoying Vulture's feature called "The Toughest Scene I Wrote" where the screenwriters of some of the most notable films in 2012 explain the backstory on what they considered the most difficult scene to write of their film.

I was happy to see today's installment was Roman Coppola discussing Moonrise Kingdom. I watched the film with my sisters last week. When it was over, I asked them if they liked it and their response was, "We know you did since you were grinning like a dope for, like, the whole movie."

It is true. There was a lot of grinning. The production values alone were enough to emit an upward turning of the mouth. Add a cast that includes a 12 year old Lana Del Rey-esque loner who knows her way around a pair of safety scissors, Ed Norton in khaki shorts, husband and wife attorneys: Francis McDormand and Bill Murray, SWINTON, Max Fischer flashbacks in scout uniform, an officiating Jason Schwartzman, a non irritating narrator and Bruce Willis.

So many things to love.