So, saw ‘White Ribbon’ yesterday. AMAZING film. It’s the kind that movie buffs will be analyzing for years to come. It’s about a small village in Germany just prior to World War I. a series of strange happenings, nothing of the supernatural, simply tragic and close together, spin the village into a quiet frenzy of suspicion and conspiracy. The film ends just at the beginning of the War, and many of the deep-seated tensions of this village mirror those of the region at the time. It’s a microcosm/macrocosm mirroring that is truly lovely. I just wish the damn movie had as ENDING.
This is the second time in as many weeks I’ve come across a story that has no ending. I’m currently torturing myself with the “Incarnations of Immortality” series by Piers Anthony. Book 3 , no freakin’ ending. Almost as bad as the movie “Sex and Breakfast.” It’s rash inducing how badly that sucks. The story (in the book, not the movie) is wonderful, the world he builds is exquisite in it’s simplicity laid over such a complex framework that is beautifully easy to grasp. It’s just such a shame about his writing…
But be that as it may, the company of yesterday was excellent. Intelligent and sarcastic in delicious ways, all while being warm and snuggly. Quite a pleasure, one I wish I could share more of, but alas, I longed for a social life and got one. Blast it all.
And yet, for all my doubts and worries and trials and schedules, all I can do is watch the snow dust onto the streets as I wait for my laundry to be done so I can sleep. Time passes so slowly as the white dances down from the sky. I wonder what its like, to live so short a life. To fall from the heavens to the earth in a single bound, carried to your resting place by the winds.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Leaving
And so begins another adventure. Balance is a thing of perspective, yet as perspective evolves, balance must be maintained. Or tipped entirely on its ear, one of the two.
So, regardless of practically untenable (and thankfully soon to be EXITING) roommates, I’ve managed to get settled. It took me almost a year, and the roommates didn’t help at all, but I’ve managed at last to settle in to what has become my own piece of life. And yet I’m antsy. Expectant. Wanting. As usual, the Leaving is creeping in again.
Catherine Valente actually articulated this better than I could ever hope to in her book, In The Night Garden. She spoke of a sensation unignorable, a calling of sea and adventure and movement, called the Leaving. It has followed me most of my adult life, this need to go, to see, to find, to move about. It took me across state lines, into the arms of various lovers, and yet always my eyes on the horizon, westward, wanting. And this is the first time in my life I’ve ever truly want to drop kick the Leaving. I don’t want to go.
I know where I would go, which doesn’t make this any easier. I’m visiting there next month, seeing friends and brothers and sisters, comrades in trickster mischief, set in the Pacific Northwest, 4 hours by plane away from everything I have built and know and love. And yet how much I would be leaving behind if I DON’T go. I’m leaving something behind either way, visiting instead of living. Yet which family do I cherish, and which do I allow to fly free? Part of me has made the choice, brushing aside illogical, irrelevant fancy, giving way to tenable joy, to tangible existence. And yet the Leaving hungers. It longs for the road, longs for the freedom of complete autonomy.
And this is where my being wants to say fuck it and go on tour. I’ve been considering putting an ad in Craig’s List for quite a while, something to the tune of, “Singer Seeking Songwriter.” My music has always been such an integral part of my life, and yet I don’t give it enough attention. I realized that at Capricon just 2 weekends ago, singing on stage with Eric Coleman. It made me realize how much I want this, to be able to share this gift, to let it warm the hearts of those around me, their smiles and laughter warming mine.
It’s a long way to find out who we are. The Waiting sucks.
So, regardless of practically untenable (and thankfully soon to be EXITING) roommates, I’ve managed to get settled. It took me almost a year, and the roommates didn’t help at all, but I’ve managed at last to settle in to what has become my own piece of life. And yet I’m antsy. Expectant. Wanting. As usual, the Leaving is creeping in again.
Catherine Valente actually articulated this better than I could ever hope to in her book, In The Night Garden. She spoke of a sensation unignorable, a calling of sea and adventure and movement, called the Leaving. It has followed me most of my adult life, this need to go, to see, to find, to move about. It took me across state lines, into the arms of various lovers, and yet always my eyes on the horizon, westward, wanting. And this is the first time in my life I’ve ever truly want to drop kick the Leaving. I don’t want to go.
I know where I would go, which doesn’t make this any easier. I’m visiting there next month, seeing friends and brothers and sisters, comrades in trickster mischief, set in the Pacific Northwest, 4 hours by plane away from everything I have built and know and love. And yet how much I would be leaving behind if I DON’T go. I’m leaving something behind either way, visiting instead of living. Yet which family do I cherish, and which do I allow to fly free? Part of me has made the choice, brushing aside illogical, irrelevant fancy, giving way to tenable joy, to tangible existence. And yet the Leaving hungers. It longs for the road, longs for the freedom of complete autonomy.
And this is where my being wants to say fuck it and go on tour. I’ve been considering putting an ad in Craig’s List for quite a while, something to the tune of, “Singer Seeking Songwriter.” My music has always been such an integral part of my life, and yet I don’t give it enough attention. I realized that at Capricon just 2 weekends ago, singing on stage with Eric Coleman. It made me realize how much I want this, to be able to share this gift, to let it warm the hearts of those around me, their smiles and laughter warming mine.
It’s a long way to find out who we are. The Waiting sucks.
Been a bit...
Maybe its just been a while. Maybe it was the warning received. Or maybe I’m just being stood up for the second itme in my life. All are possible, which irritates me. But all are also possible in combination, which makes me stabby. And ramble. Another Tanlge. Shit.
I suppose I just need to relax. I’m nervous for a couple good reasons and a lot of lousy ones. The freakish paranoia set in a little while ago, my mind conjuring wild scenes of car acciednets and zombie invasions and alien abductions, keeping my friend from meeting me for dinner. Not a fan of my mind when it’s like this.
LATER:
So instead, I’m an idiot. Surprise! I love miscommunication. Makes for the first blog-like thought process I’ve had in months. Could be the start of something. Could also be exhaustion feeding insanity, but what of that?
Being silly has it’s good points. But lessons wrought of silliness tend to end either in zombies or strange tea parties. This one will end in music. Dirge or symphony remains to be seen.
I suppose I just need to relax. I’m nervous for a couple good reasons and a lot of lousy ones. The freakish paranoia set in a little while ago, my mind conjuring wild scenes of car acciednets and zombie invasions and alien abductions, keeping my friend from meeting me for dinner. Not a fan of my mind when it’s like this.
LATER:
So instead, I’m an idiot. Surprise! I love miscommunication. Makes for the first blog-like thought process I’ve had in months. Could be the start of something. Could also be exhaustion feeding insanity, but what of that?
Being silly has it’s good points. But lessons wrought of silliness tend to end either in zombies or strange tea parties. This one will end in music. Dirge or symphony remains to be seen.
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