Song of the Sea

Home was a mountain
That reached to the sky;
Softly I left you,
Not hearing your cries.

In rolled the ocean
So wide and so deep
I let it cleanse me
And rock me to sleep.

And dawn, like a flower
Now blooms through the lies
And beckons me homeward
To see through your eyes.
--

My new friend Kellie and I wrote this, line by line, on the beach. Not just at the beach, but on the beach; in the sand. It was really cool.

Something

Hello people.

I'm at college now, in case you didn't know that already. I really love it here. It's a beautiful place, in more ways than one. I love my roommates. I love my classmates. I love my professors. I love the campus.

I've been craving something, though. Some level of worship that I can't reach through the mini rock concerts at chapel and vespers. Not that there's anything wrong with the worship here; it's youthful, it's enthusiastic, it's diverse. But it's loud. I want something quieter. 

Sometimes I listen to Gregorian chant. I don't usually tell people because I feel like it's a nerdy thing to do, as in, it's either really really old school or it's somehow obnoxiously new-agey. But the truth is, I love Gregorian chant. I was once driving home late at night listening to the classical music station on the radio, and there were monks from a monastery in Germany chanting in strong, pure voices. It changed me.

We freshmen are encouraged to choose and attend a church in the area. I've visited a couple but they haven't stuck. Maybe it's wrong to dislike a church because I don't like its music; I don't know. All I can say is that I'm not satisfied yet. I want something quieter. 


There are these beautiful flowers on campus. I don't know what they're called but I think they're the most arresting color in existence. It's not sufficient to look at them and say, "those are pretty." In fact, description is useless. What I can tell you is that looking at them is like listening to Gregorian chant. The morning frames them as richly as any cathedral space, draping awe across your shoulders, new sunlight fresh as silence. It's inexplicably fulfilling, undeniably moving-- deeply, deeply worshipful. They take your breath away and offer it up to God.

Is there a church that worships like that?

More Music!

Here's another thing I've been working on. It's a cover of Skyway Flyer's "I'll See Her There." This was a somewhat larger project than the last video I posted, even though I didn't write this song.

To make it, I simultaneously recorded each take in GarageBand (audio) and PhotoBooth (video). After I mixed all the tracks in GarageBand, I put it into iMovie and edited the PhotoBooth footage so it would match the audio. And voila!

This is really quite elementary compared to what some of the pros are doing on YouTube (if you've never heard of Jack Conte, look him up RIGHT NOW), but I think it's a pretty good start. I'd like to know if there's special software (or particularly good software) for making "VideoSongs." Still, I'm pretty proud of this. And Jason Munday and Mike Lombardo both commented on it!

Kyrie (and Moonsong)

So, I got a MacBook Pro. It's awesome. I've set up a little recording studio in my room, which currently consists of my computer and my keyboard, which I've hooked up to the computer. Music projects are significantly easier when you don't have to use the iMac in the middle of the house where people are constantly talking or cooking or whatever when you're trying to record. Of course, I have to keep the door and windows closed with no fans going, so it gets hot. But it's the price you pay!

Anyway, this is the first project I've recorded with the computer. Although I'm still using a built-in computer microphone to record, this laptop has the best microphone of any computer I've ever owned, and it sounds, to my ear, pretty good. Also, the fact that I'm able to input MIDI directly from my keyboard into GarageBand has upped the sound quality significantly. I can now experiment with synthetic sounds much more easily than before.

So, I have attempted to explore my desire to write choral music with the tools I have on hand, and this is what I came up with. Tell me what you think!

Just for contrast, here is another project I created in GarageBand. Remember that sonnet I wrote about the moon? Well, before I figured out how to hook up my Yamaha keyboard to the computer, I decided to create a sort of ambient soundtrack for that poem. I created all the music using musical typing, and recorded the vocals in the occasional moments I was home alone. For me, the biggest difference is in what I'm now able to do musically; musical typing is... restrictive, to say the least. (Also, I like the fact that I didn't have to come up with actual lyrics for the Kyrie. That was nice. It makes it significantly less melodramatic.)

Thoughts and comments are very appreciated. Thanks for reading and listening.

The next challenge: Figuring out how to make beats!

Overgrown

Your hands are temples,

Elegant architecture,

Alabaster; let your

Foundation fall, swallow

The empty, earthen hollow

In me, deep.

For when you leave,

The walls grow luminous,

Ruinous, gone to us:

A forgotten room. And

Soon, these seeds sown

Seek light, tight, choking,

In me, overgrown.

$3 a face

I've decided that I'd like a lot more of my poetry available to be read here on my blog, so I'm going to be going through some of my older stuff and posting it periodically. Here's one I wrote about two years ago.

$3 a face

I saw a man
On the streets of San Francisco
With an easel
And a table
And a sign that said: “Portraits: $3 a face”

He sat,
Ready, for three whole dollars,
To poorly recreate, in marks of colored dirt
Any one of a hundred thousand perfect little masterpieces
That God sculpted for
Absolutely
Nothing.

Perhaps,
Like some sort of psychic,
He could read the lines on your face
As a palm reader reads those
On your hand,
And silently explain, with brushes on paper
The truth about yourself
That you knew all along
And didn’t want to admit.

Perhaps, I thought
Those $3 are not for the portrait itself
But for his insight;
You could know, just from those hasty brushstrokes
Whether you were truly happy
Or sad
Or hated
Or loved.

I paused, hands in pockets
In front of him,
Surveying the fluttering faces hung before me,
Sketches of souls on display for all to see;
Some beautiful,
Some not.

His strange, dark eyes found mine;
I smiled, fingering my wallet
And turned,
And walked away.
--


I'd love to hear what you think of this poem. When I first wrote it, my church choir director asked if I would read it for the choir and use it as a springboard for a small devotional. The funny thing is, he had interpreted it to mean the exact opposite of what I'd intended. Which brings up an interesting question, I suppose: should the poet and the reader agree on the meaning of a poem? Personally, I was pleasantly surprised that someone had seen what I'd written from a different angle. It was good for me to have someone point out that things like this are open to interpretation (and/or maybe I should just learn how to write more clearly). Reading it now, this seems a significantly less awesome poem that I'd originally thought...

Anyway, I still read the poem for the choir, albeit so nervously that I was asked to read it twice. I think they liked it. And it worked well for the devotional. So, happy ending. The end.

Morning

This morning,

I woke to find my

Bedroom full of gold.

Someone must have

Come in the night, and while I slept

Draped it over my bed

In rippling swaths;

It clings to the corners like

Cobwebs, like

Just-remembered joy.

Untitled No. 2

"What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person." --John Green

Untitled #2 (Blue)

Blue.

Simple, human-- it suits you

Or it did, then.

I remember blue;

I remember “Hello.”

But then I fell,

Like the shadow I am,

At your feet: a feeble imitation.

My hands strung with thread

To the tips of

Your fingers,

I dance, silent.

Now,

I see you only in black,

Mirrored fragments, grinning and godlike,

Inky footprints fresh across my mind.

You left an ember

In my chest;

I burned to ash.

Time passed--

I forgot what you are. Forgive me;

Perhaps one day I'll

See you again

In blue.

Is that YOUR watermelon?

I haven't written an anecdote-style post on this blog yet, so I figured it was time to change that. Plus, I just discovered the ingenious blog, Hyperbole and a Half, so I wanted to try writing something funny. I will probably fail. Here goes.

I was in Safeway yesterday, helping my mom with groceries. I don't really mind grocery shopping, as grocery stores are an endless source of entertainment for me. As long as you're shopping with someone, you can spend the entire time making random, funny observations. (Although in retrospect, said observations are usually less witty than I originally thought).

Some examples:

-Red Plums resemble internal organs. A good way to point this out is to offer one to the person nearest you and say, “kidney?”

-Bananas secretly rule the world. I mean, look at them. They're invariably arranged around their very own Aztec-style pyramid. At night, they probably cut the pits out of the plums and cast the hollow, dripping carcasses down the temple steps in ritual sacrifice.

-That guy behind the counter at the deli is watching you. The creepy one with the big knife. Yeah, that guy. He's watching you.

So anyway, I was annoying my mom with such observations when she noticed that hair conditioner was on the shopping list. I'm guessing she was glad of the opportunity to be rid of me for a few moments, because she pointed me to the right aisle and told me to go find some.

I'd been staring at the selection of hair-care products for barely a minute when a man suddenly came striding around the corner, pointing at me accusingly.

"Is that your watermelon?" he demanded.

My brain did a quick inventory check. Hands: empty. Pockets: empty. Purse: tiny. 

Error 404: watermelon not found. Still, this guy seemed pretty sure I was guilty of something, so I decided not to deny anything in case he was right and I'd inadvertently acquired a watermelon. Several seconds passed as I tried to formulate a response. Finally I said, "What?"

He pointed again, forcefully. "That watermelon. Is it yours?"

Realizing that he was pointing behind me, I turned. There on the floor, right next to a display of toothbrushes, sat a single, lonely watermelon.

Relief washed over me. I wasn't guilty. He could take me into the Safeway interrogation room and I could look him straight in the face and say that I'd never seen that watermelon before in my life. I had alibis. I was innocent.

I shook my head perhaps a little too emphatically. 

"No," I said.

Without another word, he stormed past me and snatched the melon off the floor. Cradling it like an errant child, he proceeded to convey it back to the produce section.

It was a little while before I remembered what I'd been doing. Eventually, I found the conditioner I was looking for, and took it to my mom. She laughed when I told her what had just happened, and shopping continued as normal.

We were just passing the pharmacy when the man reappeared. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, the light glinting off of his Safeway name-tag as he haphazardly straightened items on the shelves. He was like an angry, very tidy whirlwind. Don't come any closer, I thought. Don't come up to us.

Of course he did.

"Finding everything alright?" he asked in an intense tone of voice generally reserved for sentences like, "Do you need help escaping this burning building?"

I nodded absently, afraid to make eye contact. I couldn't imagine anything more awkward than meeting the eye of a man who had just moments before accused me of watermelon possession. Fortunately, my mom was there, and she politely told him that yes, we were finding everything just fine and thank you very much [please go away].

Apparently satisfied, he hurried off to vigorously rearrange the next shelf in his path.

"Paul Blart, Safeway employee," I remarked very quietly. "That's the watermelon guy."

Mom laughed. "He must be the manager or something."

Probably. I wasn't going to ask, though. Way too dangerous.

Don't get me wrong, Safeway is great; but between watermelon man and that one annoyingly over-helpful employee (I mean, for Pete's sake, lady-- we went to the self-checkout so we could avoid any kind of human interaction), it can be an interesting place to shop. 

Worth the trouble? Donuts say yes.

This City

I feel bad for not writing. So here's an old poem that I wrote almost a year ago.
--
This City

I am the breath of this city
Gasoline lifeblood crawling asphalt veins
This raging, pumping heart's
Chaotic rhythm
Mine.

I am the eyes of this city
Burning spotlights tracing prison walls
These tinted lenses etched with
Fractured beauty
Gone.

I am the ears of this city
Unsettled crowds applauding abstract themes
These clashing, caustic hopes'
Forgotten promise
Lies.

I am the voice of this city
A humming drone feeding countless mouths
This jigsaw puzzle beehive's
Daily labor
Song.

It's why we play the cello

If you can't tell, that's me on the far right in the cello quartet. Here's my solo performance:

Close the Window

This was meant to be a song, but I could never get it to fit with any music. Also, I don't think it's particularly good. But I needed something to post, and I found this in an old notebook, so...
--

Darling, close the window
The light is coming in
And you only pretend to know
What I've always seen:
This wasn't meant to be.

Darling, close the door
The rain is coming in
And you don't live here anymore
Is it cruel that I,
I just want to stay dry?

Darling, close the book
My tears are spilling out
With remorse for what I took.
And when we learn to live
You'll find what I could never give.

Tell me dear, what took us here,
So far?
I should have known the cold would show
The scars.
So let go.

A picture

I haven't written in a while. This is partly because I have started a collaborative blog with several other people which I suggest you check out as it's pretty cool.

I really don't have anything to say right now, so I'm going to share a strange picture that I drew on my mom's iPad yesterday. I don't know what it means, but if you do, feel free to share.

Life Cycles, I: Dawn

Dawn

inhales

the fleeing stars

and ripens

with blushing, fertile warmth

behind a veil

of blue

and

birth, like crimson agony

soaks the linen sky in blood

and fades.

Dawn,

the infant morning,

cries out in fleeting sparrow-song:

live, and see,

and wonder.

AJOA: Day 20

Day 20: A hobby of yours

Well, I do this thing called blogging. Ever heard of it?

AJOA: Days 18 and 19

Day 18: A time when you felt passionate and alive

I once watched a sunrise from the top of a mountain on a cloudy November day. Everyone in the city below was waking up to a gray sky, but where I was, the sky was clear. Denver returned to another dull, noisy, mindless day, but I sat in silence, breathing clean air, awestruck with the beauty of, well, everything. I've never felt so utterly elevated from the realm of human concern, and yet so small, so quiet.

Day 19: A talent of yours

Well, gee, I'm such a talented person! Where could I possibly start?

I'm kidding. Just so you know.

My biggest talent is probably... my ability to be completely awkward even around people I should be totally comfortable with. I don't know if it's in my genes or if it's something I picked up during the course of my life, but either way, it's something I'm particularly good at. I've always considered myself to be a shy person, but sometimes I feel like "shy" is just a nice word for "socially inept."

Yay me.

AJOA: Days 16 and 17

So I fell behind. Whatever. I'm making up for it.

Day 16: A song that makes you cry

I've yet to find a song that can consistently make me cry. Still, sometimes something will catch me in the right (or wrong?) mood and I'll shed a few tears. Although I've never been a fan of pop songs with overly-sentimental lyrics, there are some absolutely heart-wrenching pieces of classical music that I can name. Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, for instance. There was a slow movement of a concerto attributed to J.C. Bach that I performed in which, in certain passages, you could imagine the cello actually weeping in your hands.

I guess if I could name a piece of music that I find both profoundly sad and profoundly beautiful, it would be Eric Whitacre's A Boy and a Girl. The composer described himself as "devastated" the first time he read the text and decided to set it-- and that's the way I felt the first time I heard this. If you have a minute, turn up the volume and just listen to the music.

Day 17: An art piece

This one confuses me slightly. An art piece? Like, something I made?

Well, okay then. Actually, I have something better. I drew this lovely picture with 2 Sarahs. It's awesome.

AJOA: Days 14 and 15

Day 14: A vacation you'd like to take

There are lots of places I wish I could go. I'd love to visit Britain, or the Philippines, or New Zealand. I've always wanted to visit the East Coast. Someday, I'm going to drop everything and take a random road trip around the country, and it will be awesome.

However, I think my dream vacation would be a long trip to Italy. I've always imagined learning Italian and going around Italy conversing with anyone who will talk to me. I think that would just be the coolest thing ever.

Photo Credit: http://tinyurl.com/4wf5ha5

Day 15: A person you admire

This one's difficult, because there are a lot of people I admire; I've been incredibly blessed to have been brought up by and around admirable people. So, even though I'm not writing about them today, I should mention that I admire both of my parents, my teachers, my pastors, and my friends. I don't know if anyone's reading this, but you should all know that each of you, in some way or another, inspire me to be a better person. I love you all.

Most people I know won't recognize his name, but the person I've chosen to write about is young adult author John Green. Although he's best known for his novels Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska, I have read neither of these books. I know him primarily as a video blogger, because he and his brother Hank make regular videos on YouTube. The two of them have formed a community known as Nerdfighteria, which is basically a bunch of nerdy people who are dedicated to decreasing "Worldsuck." (Translation: they raise money for charity, do good deeds, etc. etc. I happen to be a Nerdfighter.)

Mr. Green is not my hero. He's not my role model. In fact, I disagree with him on a lot of stuff. The reason I admire him isn't because I think he has all the answers-- he doesn't.

I admire him because he's not afraid to have unbridled enthusiasm for what he loves, even if that makes him a nerd. He never ceases to make me think about and question my own assumptions, beliefs, and values. He's an incredibly gifted wordsmith, and his videos (and books, although I can only speak for the one I've read) have just the right balance of thought-provoking and light-hearted material. And most of all, I admire his ability to find beauty and meaning in things that I overlook every day.

I chose to write about John Green because I hope to someday see the world with eyes as open as his.

AJOA: Day 13

Day 13: A favorite pastime

Finally, an easy choice!

What do I do in my free time? I make music. Whenever I'm alone in the house, I sit down at the piano and just play. I improvise, I write, I have fun. I started really trying to compose when I was (I think) 14. I'm still not terribly good at it, but I've come such a long way from where I started that I'm very optimistic about the future. Eventually, I hope to create something really good. But in the meantime, it's a great way to blow off steam after long practice sessions.

Here's one of my really early compositions:

AJOA: Day 12

Day 12: A song you want played at your wedding

I have a feeling that I'm somewhat unusual in that I've never actually thought about this before. I really don't know. And it's not exactly a pressing concern; I guess my future husband and I will just have to work it out when we get there.

I'm starting to think that I'm a really boring person...

AJOA: Day 11

Day 11: A photo of you taken recently

 Two Sarahs and I climbed a tree. It was fun.

Whole

Several months ago I wrote a poem called "I Am Home (Where)", which I set to music and uploaded to YouTube. Since then, I've been meaning to write more songs, but haven't gotten around to it until now.

Lyrics:

Verse 1:

Breathless with emptiness catching the light

The longer I stand here, the less comes to mind

And it's not what you think

I'm not being naive,

But as free as I am,

I'm alone.

Verse 2:

Reaching for something that has to be there

Each breath a fervent wish, each word a prayer

And it's not what you think

No, I'm not being weak:

This world may be mine,

But it's not home

Chorus:

And I'd go a long way to find

What I hope could someday be mine

It's time to admit I've been waiting for

What I've been created for

Is there nothing more

Than me?

Verse 3:

One day I'll find it, oh one day I'll know

The last missing fragmented piece of my soul

That one final piece

Will make me complete

Yes, I'll understand

When I'm whole.

CHORUS

Alternate Chorus:

And I'd go a long way to find

What I know somehow is mine

It's time to admit I've been waiting for

What I've been created for

'Cause there's so much more

to see.

--

I don't pretend to be particularly good at songwriting, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering the amount of time I spent on it (not that much). This one is much more of a song (instead of a poem-set-to-music) than the last one. Parts of the music had been floating around in my head for a few weeks, but I finally wrote some lyrics and put it all together yesterday.

Some explanations as to why it doesn't sound better than it does:

First of all, I'm recovering from a cold and not singing very well. Second, the accompaniment track is really choppy because I had to record it in pieces and then stick them together in Garageband. Thirdly, the various noise-making objects and animals in my house don't have much respect for recording sessions. And finally, this was all recorded using built-in computer microphones, which is why the quality is so bad.

 But enough excuses!

If you happen to be someone who is good at songwriting, or you know stuff about recording, any comments or constructive criticism you may have would be GREATLY appreciated. Actually, any feedback at all would be great.

Finally, I'll love you forever if you subscribe to my YouTube Channel.

AJOA: Days 9 and 10 (I skipped 8 because it was too hard)

I would have come up with a better excuse but that was too hard, too.

Day 9: A photo you took

Gypsy Jazz in a little cafe in Arvada. My music theory teacher, Aaron Walker, on guitar, and my dad on the bass. I came to listen to the music and I snapped this shot with my dad's iPhone. I like the brightly lit chaos of it, the off-kilter angle, the geometry of the lines, and the focused expressions on the subjects' faces. This is what jazz looks like.

Day 10: A photo of you taken over 10 years ago

Yeah. This pretty much speaks for itself.

AJOA: Day 7

Day 7: Five things you couldn't possibly live without

1. Faith, family, friends. Pretty much "the important things in life." I put them together because it would be a cop-out to list them separately. And I generally try to avoid being lame.

2. Music. Making it, listening to it, writing it; it keeps me alive when I have no words left. (Also, this encompasses everything associated with music: my cello, my piano, my voice, my hearing.)

3.The Internet. This one's not entirely true; I mean, I could survive without internet, but... it wouldn't be pretty. I love me some Facebook.

4. Showers. Laugh if you will, but seriously.

5. My brain. This one's pretty self-explanatory. In fact, I might go so far as to say it's a no-brainer. Ar ar ar.

AJOA: Day 6

Day 6: A moment you wish you could relive

You know what? Get back to me on this one in about 70 years. I've had lots of incredible moments in my life, but... there's so much more to do. Memories are all well and good, but I don't want to waste time re-living when I should be just plain living. When I'm old and frail and I've done all the living I can, I'll start thinking about reliving. But not yet.

AJOA: Day 5

Day 5: A favorite quote

I put off writing this all day, because I couldn't decide on a favorite quote. Now that I'm finally sitting down to write, I still can't decide.

Oddly enough, this is different from the indecision I experienced on the previous posts. For those, it was hard to decide because I have so many favorite books and movies. But I don't have a bunch of favorite quotes. When I tried to think of one, nothing came to mind. A favorite quote should be a sort of motto, a summary or representation of your philosophy on life. And yeah, I have one of those, but I made it up myself. And it would seem awfully egotistical to quote myself in this post.

Someday, I'll find the words I'm looking for. I just haven't yet. So in the meantime, here are a few noteworthy runners-up:

“If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.” -- George Bernard Shaw

"It is our choices... that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." -- J.K. Rowling

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." -- C.S. Lewis

 Tune in tomorrow for some more annoying indecision!

AJOA: Day 4

Day 4: A favorite TV show

Okay, I'm officially really tired of this list of favorites. Surprise, surprise: I don't have a favorite TV show. I have several. And most of them are Sci-fi. Because I'm a nerd.

So, here we go. Star Trek and Doctor Who are awesome, but I've decided to write about a fairly new show: Warehouse 13. 

In a nutshell, the show is about two government agents whose job it is to recover dangerous magical artifacts throughout the country and bring them back to a secret Warehouse.

It's not heavy-duty sci-fi like Star Trek, but it's a really fun show. The characters are lovable, the writing is creative, and the artifacts are always interesting. The special effects can be downright hokey at times, but it's a testament to the quality of everything else that you're always willing to look past that. Highly recommended.

AJOA: Day 3

Day 3: A favorite book

As hard as it was to single out a favorite song and a favorite movie in the last couple of posts, this is by far the hardest decision to make. I love books. I love reading. And I really don't have a favorite book.

So I've decided to write about a book --or rather a series-- that has frequently made my favorites list since I first read it a couple of years ago. I've always been a fan of fantasy: I grew up reading Narnia and Harry Potter, and I'll forever have a soft spot for fun, magical adventures. And Alison Croggon's fantasy quartet, The Books of Pellinor, essentially embodies everything that I love about the genre: an engaging story, an expansive fictitious universe, simple good-vs-evil conflicts, and swordfighting. Oh yes.

The Naming, the first book in the series

The plot itself is nothing new; basically, a dark shadow has fallen across the land, and a young peasant  must defeat the gathering forces of evil with her newly discovered magic powers. It's your typical fantasy storyline. What's beautiful about this series isn't the story itself but rather the universe in which that story takes place.

Maerad, the main character, is gifted with the magic powers of the Bards. These Bards are not only wizards, but scholars, healers, artisans, musicians, poets, and so on and so forth. Throughout the kingdoms of Edil-Amarandh, the Bards have built institutes of learning and Bardic tradition, known as Schools.

Over the course of the books, Maerad and the other main characters travel all over the map, and Croggon describes her fantasy world in incredible detail. Each School, and city surrounding it, has its own culture, traditions, poetry, music, cuisine, etc. The pains the author goes to in order to paint a fully developed universe are truly remarkable. While most fantasy stories (especially in the Young Adult genre) will sketch a simple, generic world around their characters, Croggon makes you believe you're really rediscovering a lost civilization.

One of the largest components of the cultural depth is the books' poetry. Croggon is an award-winning poet, and the poetry she incorporates into the stories lends incredible believability to narrative. It's real poetry, not just a bunch of rhyming lines all strung together. A sample:

I am the Lily that stands in the still waters, and the morning sun 

    alights on me, amber and rose;

I am delicate, as the mist is delicate that climbs with the dawn; yea, the

    smallest breath of the wind will stir me.

And yet my roots run deep as the Song, and my crown is mightier

    than the sky itself,

And my heart is a white flame that dances in its joy, and its light will 

    never be quenched.

Though the Dark One comes in all his strength, I shall not be

    daunted,

Though he attack with his mighty armies, though he strike me with iron

     and fire, with all his grievous weapons,

Even should he turn his deadly eye upon me, fear will not defeat me. 

I will arise, and he will be shaken where he stands, and his sword 

     will be shivered in the dust,

For he is blind and knows nothing of love, and it will be love that

     defeats him.

From The Song of Maerad, Itilan of Turbansk 

{Excerpted from The Singing by Alison Croggon}

I could go on about these books for a long time. Heck, I could write a few more paragraphs just about the music in the books (something that particularly intrigues me as a musician). But I think I've written enough.

I'll leave you with this: read these books. Seriously. You won't regret it.

AJOA: Day 2

Day 2: A favorite movie

This one is nearly as hard as choosing a favorite song, because I love movies. Love 'em! So I'm going to have to pick one of my favorite movies, because I can't narrow it down to just one.

After a lot of thought, I've decided on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I. Love. This. Movie. I love the fact that you can quote almost any given line and people (read: nerds like me) will know exactly what you're talking about. I'd give a summary of the plot, but most people already know it, and it's largely irrelevant anyway.

Basically: it's a classic. Not much else to say.

"Your arm's off!" ... "No it isn't."

A Journey of Abouts: Day 1

So, my friend Jessica is doing this on her blog this month, so I thought I would do it on mine as well, as a way to really get my blog started. Basically, I'm going to write every day about one thing. Here's the list:

Day 1: A favorite song.
Day 2: A favorite movie.
Day 3: A favorite book.
Day 4: A favorite television program.
Day 5: A favorite quote.
Day 6: A moment you wish you could relive.
Day 7: Five things you couldn't possibly live without.
Day 8: A thank you letter to someone who has changed your life.
Day 9: A photo you took.
Day 10: A photo of you taken over ten years ago.
Day 11: A photo of you taken recently.
Day 12: A song that you want played at your wedding.
Day 13: A pastime favorite.
Day 14: A vacation you would like to take.
Day 15: A person you admire.
Day 16: A song that makes you cry.
Day 17: An art piece.
Day 18: A time when you felt passionate and alive.
Day 19: A talent of yours.
Day 20: A hobby of yours.
Day 21: Something you know you do differently than most people.
Day 22: A website.
Day 23: A way in which you want to be remembered.
Day 24: A movie no one would expect you to love.
Day 25: A recipe.
Day 26: A childhood memory.
Day 27: A physical feature you love.
Day 28: Hopes, Dreams and plans you have for the next 365 days

Just to let you know, this doesn't mean I'm going to stop posting poetry. Far from it. This is just a way to get me writing more regularly. Okay, ready? Here goes.

Day 1: A favorite song

Um, just one? Okay. Fine. It's pretty much impossible to choose my all-time favorite song, but here's one I really love: Miracles out of Nowhere by Kansas. Kansas has been one of my favorite bands since I was about 12, and this song is, in my opinion, one of their best.

The best part of the song starts at about 2:20 on the video below. This instrumental interlude has always captivated me, and exemplifies why I love this band. It's incredibly creative and completely different from anything else you'll ever hear in popular music nowadays. For one, it uses counterpoint. For another, it's in 7/4 time. It's a joy to listen to. I can't think of any other band that incorporates such complex musical ideas and pulls it off so brilliantly.

The reason I chose this song is that it's the perfect example of what I aspire to create as an artist (writer, musician, etc.). Not something that just sounds like what everyone else is listening to; something different. Something genuinely great. I may never write something half this creative, but listening to good music never ceases to inspire me.

A Sonnet for the Moon

Across that velvet curtain of the night,

Through fields of scattered diamonds loosely tossed,

With melancholy gaze and mournful light,

She searches far and wide for love long lost.

For what does her celestial body yearn?

What hunger monthly starves her to the bone?

What bids her, while a skeleton, to turn

Once more across the sky, cold and alone?

No human heart has known such solitude!

For every night she hides with stoic grace

Her pain, and seems, in earthly eyes, subdued;

Both lovers and lamenters know her face.

She hears each night the cries that mortals make

But not a tear she sheds for her own sake.

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P.S. I've never written a sonnet before, so, yeah.

Tin Can Galaxy

A little note before you read: I usually like to let poems speak for themselves, but as this one is a little cryptic, I thought I might mention where the inspiration came from. My family and I just got back from visiting my grandmother in Wyoming, and if you've ever driven through that state (especially this time of year), you know exactly how exciting the landscape is. It's a trip we make often, and I'm always struck by the flat, windswept vastness of the countryside we travel through in order to stay inside her little mobile home. This poem is about that feeling. I hope you enjoy (comments appreciated!).
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Tin Can Galaxy

Curled up inside
A tin can, like
Six little pebbles
We rattle, brittle
In the cold, impossibly
Alive, impossibly small.
Our trek across
That living void outside, that
Gleaming, frozen emptiness
Should have stolen life
Like color from our
Flushing faces, this
Glorious nothing
Our forgotten eternity--
But we live on,
Six glowing planets
Defying infinity with
Our significance,
This hollow, fragile,
Ugly little box,
Monstrously minuscule,
Our galaxy.