Butterflies and Hurricanes

Well, this past weekend was the last NCFCA qualifying tournament. I've got to say, it was a strange mixture of really good, and really bad. The last day, Saturday, was particularly frustrating, and I listened to Butterflies and Hurricanes, by Muse, all day.

Enjoy.


Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called

Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Dont let yourself down
And dont let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now

Apres Moi

I like Regina Spektor. She's interesting. You never quite know what she's talking about, but she's a talented songwriter and arranger. Enjoy Apres Moi, by Regina Spektor. And go look up the translation of the Russian in the middle of the song.

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice

I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice

A St. Patrick's Day Blessing

May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

 Happy St. Patrick's Day, to all my Irish, Irish-American, or simply Irish-at-heart readers!
B

Long Time Traveller

This song popped up on my Celtic Pandora station the other day. It's beautiful in its simplicity - three radiant voices in harmony. Enjoy Long Time Traveller, by the Wailin' Jennys.

Long Time Traveller:

These fleeting charms of earth
Farewell, your springs of joy are dry
My soul now seeks another home
A brighter world on high

I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
 I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down

Farewell kind friends whose tender care
Has long engaged my love
Your fond embrace I now exchange
For better friends above

I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
 I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down...

Problematic's Rules of Living part 3

 It's been a long time coming, but I'd like to present you the third installment of my Rules of Living. You can find the first installment here, and the second part here.

Rule 36: Be not ashamed of tripping over flat surfaces.
Corollary to Rule 36: Be ye less ashamed of tripping over stairs.
Rule 35: Never argue with the driver.
Rule 34: The rain is made for dancing in.
Rule 33: Everyone deserves to be heard.
Rule 32:  Pain is merely an electro-chemical impulse.
Corollary to Rule 32: Pain is a figment of the imagination.
Rule 31: Even a nobody is somebody to someone.
Corollary to Rule 31: Be somebody to many.
Rule 30: Know your enemy as yourself.
Rule 29: True friends stab from the front
Rule 28: Seek first to understand before you are understood
Rule 27: Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Rule 26: The Truth stands up to questioning.
Corollary to Rule 26: Question everything.

I got a comment from DFA on my last post, "Myself."  It is a long comment. And as such, it deserves a response all to itself. :) Well, maybe I'm making up that bit about deserving recognition. But in all candidness, if you post a long and well thought-out comment, I'll take the time to respond to it in depth. So let's get started, shall we?

At least you can take your own criticism. I think that would bother me more than other people's criticism.

It does bother me more than other people's criticism. When other people criticize me, I only have to sit through whatever they have to say. When I criticize me, I have to live with it. It's all in my head, and ideas are the most insidious things to stamp out. Like Inception, you know?

Why do you suppose you feel a compulsion to know who you are?

I look at my friends, and they seem so sure in who they are. Granted, they're probably just as confused on the subject as me, but they seem so self-assured. I don't have that sort of confidence. I've taken all the personality tests - there's even one displayed on the sidebar of this blog - but just because I know the "what" doesn't mean I have the foggiest clue as to the "why." And I hate uncertainty. So I guess my compulsion comes from a desire to be certain about what would seem the simplest fact of life: who I am.

Or is it because you have hypothesized who others are and are observing them to determine, if they are indeed as hypothetically determined? Is this a hypothesis or empirical data?
Well, I have hypotheses about all my friends. While sitting in the corner, I watch people. And in the course of that watching, I start to form ideas about them. I try to figure out why they're doing things which don't make sense to me. The thing is, it's all kind of subconscious. I don't start out by thinking "I'm going to figure out what makes X tick." I don't even have conscious theories, until I try to explain them to people. Then, suddenly, everything I've observed coalesces into a hypothesis - which wasn't there until someone asks me to explain "X."

What are these "social graces" you speak of?
The set of skills necessary to generally get along with people. Commonly known as being friendly with strangers. I'm an introvert. Now, that doesn't justify my extreme awkwardness in groups I don't know, but it does explain part of it. I feel very awkward carrying on conversations with people I don't know very well. Some people have the charisma necessary to make themselves accepted in any group of people. I'm not one of them.

Is the point of life to know who people are?
No, but life is helped out by knowing people. Think of it as oil for the rest of the machinery of life.

I always envy people that can analyze themselves and others, I have no patience for it. But, I am interested in your thoughts on the subject. This way I can think about it, without performing a long boring analysis of people. That is really boring. It is so much more fun to discuss and do stuff with people than to profile and analyze them.

I definitely agree. Like I said, I don't do it on purpose or by design. If someone's on my radar, I just kind of ... collect information on them, I guess. Long analyses of people are really boring, I agree. That's why I don't generally talk with people about my observations, because they start thinking I actually stalk my friends. I don't. I just pick things up about them over extended periods of time. If I were trying to watch people, I'd be a creeper of the first order.

B

Myself

I had an interesting creative writing assignment this week. I had to describe myself from different points of view, including my own and my enemy's. Because I have nothing better to post today, I'll let you read them for yourselves.

People say that the hardest thing to do is to know oneself. Well, I’m here to prove that to you. I don’t quite know who I am. The labels people try to stick on me are laughable. I’m a “perky Goth;” I’m a “capable and mature young woman;” I’m “emo;” “homeschooled;” “Christian;” “insufferable.” It’s reassuring to know other people are secure in my identity. Personally, I wish they’d agree on something. It’s hard to find myself when I’m both a drama-queen and immensely practical. All these artificial labels confuse me. Who am I? I’m Problematic: female; age seventeen. Insert your adjective here.

The lifespan of a teenager is supposedly spent trying to find that teenager’s identity. I suppose there’s some truth in that - I just haven’t found my identity yet. Who am I? I’m a truth seeker. I search to find ultimate reality. I search to find myself, and I long to discover others. I’m a philosopher: I love wisdom.  There’s more to it, though. I’m sarcastic: I cope with pain by laughing at it. GK Chesterton is one of my favorite authors and he once stated “Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?” I heartily agree. Pain is best dealt with when treated lightly.

All this could be condensed into some simple facts. I’m a teenager, driven by hormones, searching for myself. We’ll see how well I find what I’m looking for.

~*~

I dislike Problematic. She’s insufferable, a nuisance. She’s a mélange of arrogance, insecurity, and 

prudishness. How can I explain it?

Ah, an example. Say, for instance, she goes to a party full of strangers. While the party has a good time, Problematic sits in the corner, smiling occasionally and passing judgment on the lesser mortals. They’re enjoying themselves too much. This one is a flirt, that one is an exhibitionist. The one in the center of the room is perverted. You don’t want to know what sort of pedantic thoughts flit through her head if she sees a couple go off by their selves. Granted, she never acts on these musings, but you cannot deny their existence.  

What makes this stiff formality even worse is her reaction to its effects. Instead of feeling satisfaction from knowing that no one likes her, Problematic instead grows morose and wonders at her continued state of unpopularity. It is within her power to change her reputation, but her attempts fail nonetheless. When she does loosen up and enjoy herself, she becomes loud and obnoxious. She’ll glance nervously about the room while laughing raucously, looking for a sign of disapproval in her companions’ faces. What would happen when she finds discomfort is not what you’d think. Rather than returning to her silent state, Problematic instead grows louder and more intolerable. 

Believe me when I say Problematic is an annoying twit without an ounce of social graces. I have to live with her every day, and her inability to do anything right wears on me. If you confront her on your new information, she’ll deny it. But your comments will just increase her insecurity. My job here is done.

~*~

There you have it. Myself from my own perspective and my enemy's. Bet that's more of a look at Problematic's psyche than you were really looking for today.

Faking My Own Suicide

This week's Music Monday is by Relient K. I like them. Enough said. Moving on ... I like Faking My Own Suicide, by Relient K, because I don't like love songs.They're usually pretty sappy and just not the type of music I enjoy listening to. Obviously, there are some exceptions. And this happens to be one. It has an interesting take on the theme of unrequited love - and some of the puns that are employed are awful, in the best way possible.

Ladies, and Gents,
Faking My Own Suicide

So I've made up my mind
I will pretend
To leave this world behind
And in the end
You'll know I've lied
To get your attention
I'm faking my own suicide

I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me

I wish you thought that I was dead
So rather than me
You'd be depressed instead
And before arriving at my grave
You'd come to the conclusion
You'd loved me all your days
But it's too late
Too late for you to say

Because I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me

I'll write you a letter that you'll keep
Reminding you your love for me
Is more than six feet deep
You say aloud that you
Would've been my wife
And right about that time
Is when I come back to life
And let you know
I'd let you know (whooaa)

That all along I was faking my own suicide
Because I know you loved me
You just never realized
I was faking my own suicide
I'll walk in that room,
See your eyes open so wide
Open so wide
Because you know
Because you know
You will never leave my sight (you will never leave my sight)
Until the day that I die for the first time (until I die for the first time)
And we'll laugh, yeah we'll laugh
And we will cry
So overjoyed with our love
That's so alive
Our love is so alive

Friends

To be quite honest, the concept of friends scares me. Why? Because of the level of implicit trust comes to fruition in their company. But not just any friends - mates. The type who really know who one is.

I read someone somewhere (don't ask me for credentials, I couldn't provide them) that "friends are the people who know who you really are and still choose to be seen in public with you."  I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty disgusting piece of humanity inside my little facade. I get angry, petty, peevish, out of sort, ticked off, jealous, or just plain grumpy for some pretty stupid reasons. My mates, unfortunately, have been subjected to that behavior despite my best efforts to limit their exposure. And it scares me that I have to trust them.

Think about it. My friends have seen me at my worst. I'm not indulging in hyperbole when I say that. They've seen some pretty unsavory stuff. They've seen me at the bottom. And they still choose to be seen with me in public. I have no choice but to trust them because the cat is out of the bag. It's not a secret I can keep because the ball is already in their court. It's a level of implicit trust that I cannot alter. The only thing I can do is to worry about it.

Take right now, for instance. I'm ... concerned, to say the least. I've told three people about my peculiar malady in the past month, and am not sure I wanted to in the first place. The first example, I had no choice. Once again, it came out without meaning to. And the second time, it was a reciprocal piece of trust. So while they make me uncomfortable, it's nothing worth staying up over. However, today was something different. There was a split second where I could have recovered, saved myself and kept my secret. And yet, it still came out.

I feel like an idiot. I feel like an exhibitionist. And worst of all, I feel horrible about it. This last instance was not someone who needed the information. If anything, it may only add to his problems. The conversation wasn't naturally turning in the way I forced it.

I'm mad at myself. I made a promise not to talk with anyone about anything, and here I am breaking my word for a reason yet obscured to me. I told aa friend who I enjoy being friends with. If I knew why it came out in the first place, I wouldn't feel so bad.

But as it is, I'm no better than any other attention seeking silly teen-aged girl sharing secrets for a friend's attention. And until I can fix my mistake in person, I have to sit on the fence, trusting my friends against my will.

B

Holding Out for a Hero

Have you ever had a good, old fashioned case of wanderlust? I have. I have it all the time. And this song, sung by Jennifer Saunders, does nothing but aggravate it. It's great to motivate me to work out, so I can be ready for the Doctor. Or Aragorn. Or my gypsy. Or ... well, you get the picture. I have a love/hate relationship with this song. On the one hand, it makes me want to wander. On the other, it makes me reaaallly want to wander. I'm sure you understand now.

Holding Out For A Hero, by Jennifer Saunders


Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I I toss and turn and dream of what I need

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me

Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like fire in my blood

 I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

O Valencia

Yup. I've done it again. It's a song by the Decemberists. Am I ashamed? Not in the slightest. I love this song. It's like Romeo and Juliet meets the West Side Story meets some other story which is really familiar and I can't remember quite at the moment. Oh, that's right. King Lear. It's a story song, and I'm a sucker for a song that tells a story. I hope you enjoy O Valencia by the Decemberists.

O Valencia

You belong to the gang
And you say you can't break away
But I'm here with my hands on my heart

Our families can't agree
I'm your brother's sworn enemy
But I'll shout out my love to the stars

So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go

When first we laid eyes
I swore to no compromise
'Til I felt my caress on your skin

Well, how soon we were betrayed
Your sister gave us away
And your father came all unhinged

So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go

Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down

All I heard was a shout
Of your brother calling me out
And you ran like a fool to my side

Well the shot, it hit hard
And your frame went limp in my arms
And an oath of love was your dying cry

So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll, go we'll go

Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I'll burn this whole city down
Valencia
With your blood gettin' cold on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down

We, the undersigned, do pledge our word to live by the maxims set forth in this Declaration.

1. We swear to be prudent, not prudish
2. We shall endeavor, in thought at deed, to ascertain when to SHUT UP.
3. We pledge to keep the distinction between men and women a clear bright-line: to maintain our respective gender's mystiques.
4. We will honor each others company by enjoying friendships free from flirtation.
5. We shall strive to uphold pure motivations and avoid intended innuendo in conversation.

Soul Meets Body

This is Soul Meets Body, by Death Cab for Cutie. It came up on Pandora one day, and I fell in love with the lyrics. They're kind of strange, kind of interesting, but mostly really cool to think about. Get the feeling that I enjoy my thoughts being provoked by the songs I listen to? Me too. Anyhoo, Soul Meets Body is also helped by the fact that the music itself is quite nice. Overall, I give it 4/5 for musicality and lyricism and mix job.  :)

Soul Meets Body

I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new

Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here

And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain

And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body

And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Darlin Do Not Fear

Some days, I'm just in the mood for light pop. And when I'm in the mood for light pop, I turn to Brett Dennen's song Darlin' Do Not Fear. It's upbeat, chirpy, but not annoyingly so.

Enjoy!

Darlin Do Not Fear

When I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

Alongside my innocence I laid in bed awake
Conflicted and in chains with the impetus of age
But like a phantom she crept across the floor and out the window
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

From its place on the mantle my heart was taken down
Scattered in a thousand little pieces on the ground
And out below the streetlamp like an orphan with a halo
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And sometimes it takes more than a lifetime to know
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

Your confidences fall, is your faith etched in stone?
Neither can comfort you from the wild unknown
So bury your burning hatred like a hatchet in the snow
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

If you have a broken heart or a battered soul
Find something to hold on to or to let go
To help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And it always hurts the worst when it's the ones we love the most
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

Sometimes your path is marked in the sky
Sometimes you're forced to fit in between the lines
Sometimes all that you can do is say no
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

I said, when I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

I said, Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
We said, Darlin' do not fear

Grab Bag #3

I must apologize to my followers. Due to a couple of tournaments and much time spent getting caught up with schoolwork, I have forsaken this blog. Prospects don't look much better for the rest of the school year. But to catch everyone up on what's been happening in the life of Problematic, here is a third grab bag of joy.

January 2011 started interestingly. I started the year in an intense state of stress, due to the fact that the first tournament of the year was in the second week of January. Not only that, but this tournament was in California. Yes, my dear readers, I was in California and did not tell you. I'm sorry. I posted updates about that tournament on Facebook and sent them to my speech club, so if you are one of the unfortunate few who know me in real life/are facebook friends with me, you can read all about it to your heart's content. During this trip, I also visited Biola University, which is one of the colleges on my list right now. I am, after all, a junior.

So, I get home from California, and have one week to do two weeks of homework and prepare for the next tournament. The second tournament was in the fourth week of January. This one was down in Medford, Oregon. I drove down there with my friends Shorty and Shrimpy and Cassandra. Let's just say that there was bonding over caffeine, Pirate's Booty, and **ahem**[censored]. I love these ladies dearly.

Let's see here. What else is new? I've been swamped with homework, have a tournament coming up next weekend, and again the last weekend of February. I got a bad cold last weekend coming home from Medford and am still not over it. And cold medicine does interesting things to my head. I've written a couple more songs which, surprisingly enough, aren't total failures. And I've spent far too much time ignoring some of my more unpleasant thoughts so I can continue to function for the next four months.

Four months. Can you believe it? I have to keep my head above water for a whole four more month. I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I've gotten three months in, but it feels like I can't tread water for that long and my sanity moved out because we had irreconcilable differences.

I was at the doctor's office this week because during last week's tournament, I fell over from my dizziness. Did I mention I've been having dizzy spells since August? Anyway, he was trying to figure out why I've been getting dizzy, and asked about what I did during my free time. I jokingly asked "free time? What is this free time you speak of?" but in all actuality, the joke's not too funny. He didn't think so either. You know something's messed up when your social life is mainly going over duo-stuff with your duo partner. Nothing against Calvin - he's an awesome partner and I enjoy working with him, but I have no spare time. I couldn't tell the doctor about any recent time when I'd been able to relax and just chill.

Meh. I just want to sleep until Summer, and then sleep some more. All this is is to say, I probably won't be posting much in the next four months as I fight my junior year in highschool for supremacy. I'll try to schedule Music Mondays when I can, but don't count on anything spectacular or interesting. If I slow down to think, I'm going to lose it. And my house of cards can't afford to take any more damage than it's already sustained.

Crazily yours,
B

All The Right Moves

To be quite honest, this song disappoints me most of the time. The lyrics are good enough that the opening riffs fall flat like day-old root beer. However, there are a couple days out of the year when All the Right Moves, by OneRepublic is just was I want to listen to. Today is one of those days. You know the ones --- where the only music you want to listen to is the mediocre stuff, acknowledging, and perhaps reveling a bit in the moderate qualities of the song. Also, the music video is pretty nice.

Ladies and gents, if you haven't heard this song before, you must have been living in a cave for the past decade. (Or something. I don't remember when it came out, I just know I've heard it for years).

All the Right Moves

All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves in all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down

Just paint the picture of a perfect place
They got it better than what anyone's told you
They'll be the King of Hearts, and you're the Queen of Spades
Then we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers

I know we've got it good
But they got it made
And the grass is getting greener each day
I know things are looking up
But soon they'll take us down,
before anybody's knowing our name.

They got all the right friends in all the right places
So yeah, we're going down
We've got all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down

Do you think I'm special?
Do you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
Between the noise you hear
And the sound you like
Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?

It can be possible that rain can fall,
Only when it's over our heads
The sun is shining everyday, but it's far away
Over the world is death.

They got,
They got,
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got, all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down

They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
http://www.elyricsworld.com/all_the_right_moves_lyrics_one_republic.html
Yeah, we're going down

It don't matter what you see.
I know I could never be
Someone that'll look like you.
It don't matter what you say,
I know I could never face
someone that could sound like you.

All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down

All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down

They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down.

Yeah, we're going down.
Yeah, we're going down.

(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down
(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down

Scalliwag

Today's Music Monday is brought to you by my wanderlust. I have said enough. Ladies and gents, please enjoy Scalliwag, by Gaelic Storm.

 Scalliwag, by Gaelic Storm

Come away come away with the traveling show
come away with the raggle taggle gypsy oh!
We'll raggle-taggle here we'll raggle-taggle there, raggle up and down taggle everywhere.

From the North from the South from the East from the West, well the sky is our roof and the road is our rest.
No one to say 'yes', no one to say 'no'.
Run free with the raggle-taggle gypsy oh!

They locked you in a tower and threw away the key but this tower's no match for a wag like me
I'll be sneaking through your gate I'll be peaking round the corner well I've come to take your daughter, don't you say I didn't warn ya.

I'll be bringing you a fiddle I'll be singing you a song we'll fiddle, sing, sing, fiddle all day long.

In the halls and the walls they will her us sing and say "whack fol the diddle diddle die diddle day"

Chorus:
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.

I'll be rapping at your window I'll be knocking at your door I'll be tip tippy tapping, tippy tapping on the floor
With me fine silk britches and a feather in me hat If I run into your father then I'll stop and have a chat!
Cutting through your garden on the way to rendezvous and the owls in the trees are hooting "who are you?"
And the mice and the cats and the spiders and the bats we're dancing 'round the kitchen like a pack of acrobats

Run away, Run away with the traveling show Run away with the rambling gypsy oh!

Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.

A roving and a running and a riding on the sea and everywhere we go as happy as can be
All the mountains and the valleys and the rivers and the streams, all the lovely places that you've seen in your dreams
I'll give you the heavens, the stars in the sky, every wooded creature, every bird and butterfly
I've never had a fotune not a penny will you find you're my one and only treasure, you can leave all the rest behind.

Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmania.com/scalliwag_lyrics_gaelic_storm.html
All about Gaelic Storm: http://www.musictory.com/music/Gaelic+Storm

The Cast

Out of a morbid curiosity, I was going through the archives of this blog, and  found this delicious post.  I gave you an idea of who the recurring characters in my melodrama were. Well, a lot of these characters have passed out of my life, so it is high time that my reader become reacquainted with the Cast.

First, an update on older members of the cast:
NtropyNcarnate has gone to college.
Lady Specs has gone to college.
UnexpectedSong has gone to college.
Toothpick has married. 
Pipsqueak has joined Running Start.
Dory is at community college.

Now, to introduce the new members:
the Professor is a speaker and novice debater from my club.
Milan is an unexpected friend from California. She is a debater in college, and has been an incredible blessing to know.
Bill is more scenery than anything else. He's UnexpectedSong's little brother. Worldview 2010 was made bearable by hanging out with him and the Professor.
SirSarcasm is a relatively new, also unexpected friend and brother from speech and debate, now in college.
Shorty is a debater whom I've been getting to know over the past year. She's "more cool than hot sauce" in her own words.
Shrimpy is a friend, also from speech and debate, who I look forward to getting to know more over the coming year. She's Shorty's debate partner.

Old friends I never introduced.
Ophelia - a lovely girl from church. She used to blog, but has since left the self-centric world for reality.
Grey - Ophelia's older sister. Also used to blog, but is fairly infrequent now. Both Grey and Ophelia competed in speech and debate, but have dropped out for more edifying activities. :)

There you have it. More characters to keep track of!

Weary

Well, I haven't found the words, precisely, but I have found a word.

Weary, adjective: Having one's interest, forbearance, or indulgence worn out.

I am weary. My forbearance with life is worn out. The constant stress, the mundane melodrama, and the ever present, lurking thoughts of "I've messed up again" are wearing me down. I want out.

It's hard to explain. I've yet to find the words to explain. But this one word, it's a start.

B

Vagabond, by Blackmore's Night

I was trying to describe this band to Calvin the other day, with less than satisfactory results. If you've ever tried to talk music with someone who doesn't listen to the same style as yourself, you know what I mean when I say it's like speaking different languages. Suffice to say, Blackmore's Night is incredible. It has beautiful lyrics, melodies that could spring from the 1300s, and some pretty awesome guitar riffs to boot. Ladies and gents, I give you Vagabond, by Blackmore's Night.

Vagabond

There's many a crooked path
That has ended me here
Tired, broken and wearing rags
Wild eyed with fear

There's so much more to this vagabond
Than the eye can see
You can see me through different eyes
Make a princess of me

Door to door with a heavy heart
Try to stave off the cold
In the distance a gypsy cart
Filled with thieves and rogues

Sing for supper and sing for pence
A song's all I have to give
With a fiddle and with no rest
Singing only to live

Through the window a golden glow
Families gather round
Here outside it starts to snow
Silence the only sound

B

post scriptum: Last week's Music Monday was not published by me. My brother Thursday broke into my computer in revenge for a hard time I gave him concerning a certain young lady in his acquaintance.

Pleased to make your acquaintance

Hello there! I'm Problematic. You haven't met me before, but it's understandable. You only just became. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends this year. No, no, I completely agree. If we're going to be best friends, you need to know a bit about what's been happening. My relationship with your predecessor. No, I didn't kill it. It left on its own, quite without my help. You're curious now? Well, so am I. 


I stole a form from my friend, Bethany. You should meet her, too. Anyways, this form will make the acquaintance a little easier. Are you ready? Let's leap right in. :)


Well, the past relationship was strained. A feeling of exuberance carried over from your predecessor's predecessor. Things looked pretty peachy. In the early months of our time together, 2010 and I got into many messes throughout tournament season. Spirits were high. I criticized angsty teenagers. I congratulated my clubmates on their achievements in the great realm of competitive forensics. I made opinionated, annoying, aggravating, or just amusing sarcastic comments on a great many things I didn't properly understand.

Then in March, I went and paged at the state capitol, Olympia. That was very exhilarating, and I've completely lost faith in the state of our country as a result. But the power, the incredible power of it all! I'm sorry, I have to work on suppressing my evil chuckles. It won't happen again, I promise. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, there was a violin concert where I endeavored to make my lovely, luscious Ignatius sound like a bagpipe, with a surprising amount of success. However, in March, things started taking a turn for the worse. As I've said in previous posts (which, 2011, you may want to check out as they explain quite a bit) I don't have the words to talk about that now, but suffice it to say, the clouds were rolling in, and rosy-fingered Aurora was no longer visible above the menacing strata of rain storms.

April was the Regional Qualifier. My good friend Jedi Gerbil qualified to Nationals as well as a few others, but I had the task of cheering up a few depressive clubmates who thought that their first turn at Regionals would yield fantastic results.

In May, my uncle Barry Hendrickson died, leaving behind a wife and little girl. We do not know if he ever accepted Christ or not.  Also in May, I was accepted into a local drama company's protection of Much Ado About Nothing. I strongly believe it was based on my violin and not on any acting ability I may hope to possess.  June through early July was spent in rehearsals for Much Ado, saying goodbyes to friends who were all but digested in the life of college, and preparing from my month of hell.  During the rehearsals, I asked Calvin if he'd consider being my duo partner for the upcoming tournament season --- that's the one that you'll be watching with me. :)

Immediately after the last performance of Much Ado, 2010 and I headed over to Worldview Academy for a week of recursiveness. It was alright, more for getting to know a couple kids from the league. Then I taught Speech Camp. Then, I played in a pit orchestra for Les Miserables. Then, I went to debate camp. All in the space of three weeks. At debate camp, 2010 and I had some nice, good, old-fashioned emotional moments.

And met a new friend. From now on, I shall refer to her as Milan. :)

In the fall, I dealt with the mass migration of friends out of my circle. And a few others things as well which belong in my journal. Impertiant year! No, I don't trust you to keep a secret. Sorry. Sorry.  Wrong way to start out. Sorry. :)

Anyways, those are the high and low-lights. But to sum things up... Just between friends, you understand. Don't expect this to happen in public or anything.

Classic Epic Times:  Running around Coop B with NtropyNcarnate,  giggling with Grey and Ophelia and other friends and staying up far too late considering the tournaments the next day, bannana gun fights with Escapist, teaching a class about cutting interps on the fly, chasing down the Professor with a cup of water and being soaked by his gallon of ice-tea. 

First: energy drink, adoptive older brother, friend married, friends lost, college visit,  part in a produced play, driving all the way across the state of Montana, close family member to die.

Most nostalgic songs: Inside of You, In Spite of You; So She Dances; Dark Waltz; Always Look On the Bright Side of Life; Kernkraft 500; Prelude 12/21; Lost?; I Can Walk On Water; Not Gonna Get Us

Favorite memories: Waterfights over the summer; sleepovers with friends; hiking Mt. Si with Speech and Debate friends; conversations on the balcony; bugging the Professor with a Basshunter song all week at Worldview

Major Hits: Converse, Tascam DP-02, Pike Place Market, Despicable Me, Sherlock Holmes, Inception, iPod, Henna,  KatyBell Socks, Knee High Leather Boots, stilleto heels, Kershaw knives, YMCA, Jamba Juice, Five Pump No Water Non Fat Chai Tea Lattes

Best Books:  The Elegance of the Hedgehog, The Schwa Was Here, The Hunger Games series, the Harry Potter serires, Stargirl, Nuremberg: Infamy On Trial,  I Have Lived A Thousand Years, Mistborn Series, Elantris, I Am Not A Serial Killer

Best Music: Nightwish, Snow Patrol, Coldplay, Sherlock Holmes-Schindler's List-Lord of the Rings-Inception soundtracks, The Eternal Chapter, Within Temptation, select Basshunter selections, Loreena McKennit

Keywords: cards, caffeine, facade, insomnia, bleary, bannana

Keywords [inside joke edition]: Foot-lover, brrrgggh??!,  bannana-bread, ding!, wibbly-wobbly

Favorite teacher: Dr. Lund

Best quotes:

"You know, you look like a international jewel thief. I don't trust you one bit."

"You've got an innocent face but scarily crafty eyes."

"I thought they were giving the quilt a rest - but there's a dog in there..."

" If I'm a Spitfire, that makes you a Panzer: Slow,  ground-borne, and easy to destroy from the air..."

"You're a one-track mind with a skip on it"

'Dalink, dis iz Russia. Ve have vodka on tap."

"You smell like a mad scientist - musty with a megalomaniacal overtone."

"I'm like red wine, complete with the nutty undertones." (this and the one previous to it came from entirely different conversations.)

"Problematic, if you're my sister, you're my little sister." "But I'm older than you." "And this proves what?"

And there you have it, 2011. See? You know me already! So, with that footing, I'd like to say, once and for all. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance.

B

Goodnight 2010

Well, I still haven't quite found the words to describe things yet. There are quite a few unfinished drafts sitting in the publishing queue, so while we wait, I'll redo a New Year's tag. Here you go.


3 things I accomplished last year:
1. Paging at the Washington State Senate
2. Overcame my phobia of being touched
3. Received recording equipment!

3 things I plan to accomplish this year:
1. Get closer to NCFCA Nationals (if not actually to them)
2. Survive
3. learn guitar

3 embarrassing things that happened last year:
1.Crying in front of a stranger at debate camp (but it all worked out ;P )
2.Trust games in drama over the summer.They involved being held (like this, with less intent to snog and more stiffness), by my soon-to-be duo partner and dealing with my phobia of being touched.
3. Presuming friendship with someone who didn't want it.

3 life-changing things that happened last year:
1. Teaching Speech Camp and attending debate camp
2. A very unpleasant realization
3. Singing "I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen" the eve before my 17th birthday. The only time I sang it while 16.

3 things that happened last year that made me smile:
1. Being told I looked like an international jewel thief
2. Adopting a few new brothers - older and younger
3. Arguing with a debater from the National Forensics League about Communism

3 random things that I didn't do last year:
1. I didn't go to Hawaii
2. I didn't record an album
3.I didn't forget to water the orchid (at least, I didn't until it died.)

Intruder Alert!

This isn't really a new post, despite appearances, as I've been busy lately and so this just feels too short to really count.

Thank you for holding. Please enjoy the music.

My Body Is A Cage

To be quite honest, I'm not quite sure what to think of this song. When I first listened to it, I thought it was beautifully, if pointlessly morbid, and had no resolution. It sounded like the dualists who believe that the physical world is entirely worthless, and that their bodies trap them in an existence that is nothing like what true reality is.

But the melody was catchy, so I looked up the lyrics and found Biblical allusions in the verses. So I'm in the strange position of loving the melody and verses, but can't quite decide whether to love or hate the chorus.

Have at it!

My Body Is A Cage, by Arcade Fire

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key

I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head

I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a

My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven

I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight

My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key

You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key

Set my spirit free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free

Low

Dear readers, before you chastise me for a record-breaking delay on Music Monday, let me explain. This past week has been pretty stressful. What with the last week of classes, the reports due, Christmas next week, and an upcoming tournament to prepare for, I completely lost track of time. So today, Saturday, let me offer you a humble piece for your musical edification.

Low, by Coldplay, comes off one of my favorite albums: X&Y. While I admit that some of this album confounds my mind entirely, the theme is that of relationships. And if you can sense a theme here, you're a genius.

Anyways, I like Low because it seems to be talking about someone searching for perfect love but not finding it. It's interesting like that.

Ladies and gents,

Low, by Coldplay
You see the world in black and white
No colour or light
You think you'll never get it right
But you know you might

The sky could fall could fall on me
The parting of the seas
But you mean more, mean more to me
Than any color I can see

All you ever wanted was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up
All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up... as us

You see the world in black and white
Not painted right
You see no meaning to your life
Yes, you try
Yes, you try

And all you ever wanted it was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up

All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up

Don't you want to see it come soon
Floating in a big white balloon
Oh, given your own silver spoon

Don't you want to see it come down
There for throwing your arms around
an sayin "you're a moment too soon"

Cause I feel low
Cause I feel low
Oh oh oh oh oh
Yeah I feel low

For A Friend Close To My Heart

For the past few weeks, I've been working on a sonnet for a British Literature class. Iambic pentameter, quatrains and couplets filled my head as I wrote. Because I spent so much time on this, I figured I'd post this. Not to continue a common theme or anything, of course.

My dearest friend for whom I’d give my life

Has killed my spirit to the core, for I

Have been a faithful friend. We had no strife

‘twixt us, yet still you cause my soul to die.

Our hearts did beat as one, did dream as one,

Inseparable were we. I gave no cause

To hurt me thus, yet hurt me you have done.

Never I have broken friendship’s true laws,

And yet you chastise me. But still I’d take

Great pain from you. For faithful friends are true

Through earthly woes and problems that you make ---

I’ll guard your back in all the things you do.

As David with Saul did not break nor sever

So will my faithfulness be yours forev’r.

Friends, I appear to have relapsed. While I can't recall blogging about this previously, the pages of my journal from last year are filled this particular issue: my great social anxiety. Don't laugh. It's not funny.

I had thought that, only by God's grace, I had overcome that hurdle, but as I just said, I seem to have relapsed. Due to quite a few semi-related incidents in the past few weeks, I once again question and re-question every action's motivation.

It doesn't stop there. My motivations aren't the only victims. My tact. My approach. Other's interpretations. What my mother would say.

They've all returned in full force, bringing me back to the realization that a mountain top in the Himalayas doesn't look so bad after all.  My honeymoon with humanity appears to be over. It's back to business as usual: ie, psychotic Problematic.

What's more, Sylvia, my alter-ego, seems to have returned as well. Don't misinterpret this. I don't have fractured personalities. Rather, what I do have is a very dark sense of humor, irony, cynicism, and a generally morbid fascination with loneliness in pain, all of which I term "Sylvia" to distinguish them from who I consider myself to be.

Wait a second. I thought we were seeing the dark side of Problematic these past few months.

There is actually a difference, but it's a little hard to explain. Basically, Sylvia is an appreciation for the beauty in tragedy combined with a complete disdain for assumed pain. Sylvia is a stoic philosopher from the days of Greek philosophy. She's an aesthetic, if a cynical and calloused one.

While Sylvia was gone, I had more compassion for other teenagers going through their own trials. "It's possible," I told myself, "that their grief is just as real as mine."

But the return of double-think and Sylvia is making me wonder if all the angst of the past fall has been nothing but that: they type of dramatics I despise so much caused by nothing more than the racing of chemicals and hormones through my pubescent body. It need not be stated that this doubt extends to others, even the ones I love and trust.

The sum of all this is to say that yet another layer has been added to my melodrama. GK Chesterton once said "Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?" and while I am having trouble following his advice, I agree, there's not much else you can do. Wait it out and laugh.

It's aggravating, really. I was close, ever so close to breaking out into full-fledged humanity. To be caught in old traps when freedom was close enough to smell is frustrating. I am impotent in my own snares.

Yes, they protect me, but at what cost? Is reality worth enough to open myself up to for more betrayals? What if they're self-inflicted injuries? What price am I willing to pay to be secure in the knowledge that no one else will hurt me? Should I prefer the injuries of a friend to ones of my own devising?

Friends, if you think of it, please include me in your prayers. Because that mountain top has never looked so appealing.

B

Stand My Ground

Stand My Ground, by Within Temptation is yet another favorite of mine. I enjoy exercising to it because of it's driving beat and resolved lyrics. It's quite pretty.

Stand My Ground


I can see
when you stay low nothing happens
Does it feel right?

Late at night
things I thought I'd put behind me
haunt my mind

I just know there's no escape now
once it's set its eyes on you
but I won't run, have to stare it in the eye

Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground

It's all around
getting stronger, coming closer
into my world

I can feel
that it's time for me to face it
can I take it?

Though this might just be the ending
of the life I held so dear
but I won't run, there's no turning back from here

Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground

All I know for sure is I'm trying
I will always stand my ground

Stand my ground, I won't give in (I won't give in)
I won't give up (I won't give up)
no more denying, I got to face it
won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
if I don't make it, someone else will

Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground.

The Legionnaire's Lament

Well, I'd better 'fess up. I've been on a binge of The Decemberists. At the moment, they're the only band I want to listen to. It's no small surprise, therefore, to find myself introducing you to a song from, you guessed it, The Decemberists. It's called the Legionnaire's Lament. The thing I like about this particular song is that it is set in a historical era - the French Legion. Not only that, but the images it captures are so vivid, and the language used is just perfect. But enough about the mechanics. You should experience it for yourselves.

The Legionnaire's Lament, by The Decemberists

I'm a legionnaire
Camel in disrepair
Hoping for a frigidaire to come passing by
I am on reprieve
Lacking my joie de vive
Missing my gay paris
In this desert dry

And I wrote my girl
Told her I would not return
Terribly taken a turn
For the worse now I fear

It's been a year or more
Since they shipped me to this foreign shore
Fighting in a foreign war
So far away from my home

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevards
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars,
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine.
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again.

La la la la dam
La la la low

Medicating in the sun
Pinched doses of laudanum
Longing for the old fecundity of my homeland
Curses to this mirage!
A bottle of ancient Chiraz
A smattering of distant applause
Is ringing in my poor ears

On the old left bank
My baby in a charabanc
Riding up the width and length
Of the Champs Elysees

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again

If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles its like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again...

Be back again,
Be back again,
I'll be back again

B

Fly, you fools

This past Thursday was Thanksgiving,the holiday where we eat lots of food and show off our philosophical sides by musing aloud for the gathered company on things we're thankful for. Don't imagine that my cynicism dulls my enjoyment of this holiday. In fact, it is my favorite of them all. Because it is a National Holiday, schools from kindergarten to post-graduate take two days off. Thus I find myself this weekend with the friends I so dearly missed coming back to Washington.

For the majority of these partially-digested college friends, such is no longer the case. Perhaps it was the antagonistic room-mates. Perhaps, it was because I wasn't as good friends with them as I deluded myself. Maybe the High-School switch was permanently welded into the "off" position their first week of college. It could be all three.

Whatever the case, I found myself in the awkward position of pretending to be the person I was six months ago- the last time anyone noticed who I am.

Let me tell you, it's not pleasant. Trying to remember and approximate who one's been is a difficult task in the privacy of one's bedroom. But to pull off a perfect performance in front of those who knew one and expect one to both remain in the same static stasis and respect the new people they've become is a Herculean task.

I spent the precious time I had with these Once-Friends screaming in my mind.

People change, sweetheart. You've changed while you were at college? That's great, so have I.

I guess they just can't hear,not when it's spoken through non- telepathicmeans. Plain language, straight talking, they are senseless.

From my boat out at sea, I thought I'd seen boats coming over the horizon. Trick of the light, I suppose. Happens that way some times.

All that's left is to mourn the loss of those friends. Don't get me wrong. I discovered this weekend that they couldn't begin to scratch the surface of the plexiglass even if they tried, but this no longer bothers me. They no longer touch me, but I'm still fond of them. The same way you're fond of a particular sportsman or actor with whom you share nothing in common.

So while I mourn, it is not for what is or what could have been. I weep for what was, what has been back when I still cared.

Requiescat in pace, meae amicae.

Reminder

I am once again reminded of the folly of my ways. This is what happened:

Yesterday was the first speech Round Robin of the year, and as always, I had some interesting conversations with fellow competitors. This year was unique, thought. I had a very intriguing conversation with a couple of friends I had passed judgment on as nice, if clueless, guys. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's true.

What I discovered yesterday was so "coincidental" it could be nothing short of Divine guidance. Because you see, I found two people who claim to have shared the same malady as me, and what's more, their opinions on this malady were also similar. It was incredible, and entirely unstaged.

Of course, this leads me to wonder if these two young men actually experience the same as I, or if they merely said it to conform to the drift of the conversation. What's more,  it is an interesting thought to wonder if they now express doubts about the authenticity of my "confession" as motivated by a desire to fit in with the expressed standard. I will never know, as this topic of conversation will most likely never occur again with my conversation partners. I will not force the issue, and while I cannot tell them this personally, I hope they know their confidence is in safe hands.

Thinking back on this conversation, I become a little embarrassed. Did I reveal too much? Did I say what I said from a desire to impress, blend in? Not to add to the conversation? I don't know, really.

However these two friends came away from the conversation, I can only hope they realize how much harm they could do should they choose. But even with these bitter thoughts, I am elated and chastised.

To have written them off as a silly and stupid guys without even wondering if we had commonalities was a gross error. This lesson won't stick for long, but I hope that maybe, just maybe it will last long enough.

Nothing's really going to change as a result of yesterday's conversation. Being a secret-keeper doesn't automatically grant some special friendship upon the two parties. But I will guard their secrets as my own, because in a way, they are my secrets, too. And if that doesn't make sense, you haven't begun to understand me.

Pensively,
B

Small Rebellions

Last evening, I wore one of my suits to speech club. It's not a suit I've worn in competition before, seeing that all my suits don't quite fit anymore (they're too big), so I improvised and took a knee-length skirt, a nice blouse, and a suit jacket to get an almost-suit that would pass in a pinch. The ruffles at the bottom of the pencil skirt make it look shorter than it really is, but I figured that since I was wearing dark hose, it wouldn't matter.

Wrong. A new mom in club told me in front of the small group that if she didn't know me, she'd think I was rebelling against the dress code. It was very embarrassing to be told off concerning my clothing in mixed company, especially considering the members of the opposite sex who were listening in. It's a good correction, and I appreciate it, but since I don't plan on using this suit in competition, it was mostly embarrassing/annoying and less helpful.

But it raised an interesting point. If she didn't know me better, she'd have thought I was rebelling.

If she didn't know better, she'd have thought I was rebelling.  Think about that for a second.

Well, maybe that doesn't strike you as odd, but it does me. I've always thought of myself as a rebel. As one who goes against the current. As one who doesn't compromise with the status quo. But apparently, I don't act it. Because if this mom didn't know me better, the length of my skirt would look rebellious.

Huh. Do I just tell myself I'm rebellious, unique, strong, to make me feel better for floating downstream with the current? Only dead fish go with the flow, so is this my attempt to justify my lack of action? Do I keep this blog full of dark thoughts to make up for the typical homeschooled Christian girl that I act?

Because regardless of what I tell myself, I'm certainly coming across as nothing less than a dutiful homeschooled kid. Nothing I think will change my actions. But my actions can't deny the things I think. I don't think like your typical homeschooler, not even the ones trying to be different.


Just a quick note before proceeding: In this usage, I do not use "rebellious" with the normal negative connotations.

This leads me to wonder: Am I rebellious by not acting the way I think? Or by not thinking the way I act?

If I acted the way I thought, in real life I'd resemble more closely my current profile picture - romantic and moody clothing with soft lens-flares and all. But I don't dress like that, and I don't act like that ... much.

If I thought the way I acted, I'd be spouting the same goody-two-shoes drivel of my peers that I so despise. I'd be mindless, repeating lessons I learned in Sunday School without thinking about these Truths for myself. I don't do that, either.

So is my little rebellion one of action, or thought? One of contrariness, or deception? If I had to choose, I'd say I rebel by not acting the way a person with similar ideas would. But is that necessarily true? No. Personal preference doesn't change anything.

Whatever the case, my thoughts and actions don't match up. I'm not a hypocrite - a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings (Merriam-Webster's) - because I haven't stated all my beliefs and feelings. It does, however, make me an imposter. 


But still the question remains. Am I an imposter in thought, or deed? 


B

The Green Fields of France

My words cannot properly express the emotion inherent in this song. Just listen to it and let the song move itself.

The Green Fields of France, by the Dropkick Murphies.


Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916
Well I hope you died quick
And I hope you died clean
Or Willy McBride, was is it slow and obscene

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart you're forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

The sun shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard that's still no mans land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause
Did you really believe that this war would end wars
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest




B

Johari, again

Longtime readers of my blog may remember this link coming up in the past. If you've already done it, my apologies, and please skip this post.

However, I've gained quite a few followers since then. The link I am about to share with you is intriguing. It asks you to pick 5-6 adjectives to describe me, and then compares it with adjectives I chose to describe myself.

Care to give it a spin?

http://kevan.org/johari?name=Problematic

Thanks a ton,
B

Beautiful

I admit it. I don't like Christian radio. Guilty as charged. But reaaalllyyy early on Saturday, I tuned in to the local station as I rode down to a church work day. Imagine my surprise when the first new song to come up (amidst a generous scattering of the Newsboys and BarlowGirl (blech blech blech) ) was actually decent. More than decent. Good.

Ladies and gents, let me introduce you to a new favorite of mine: Beautiful, by MercyMe. I can't really explain why I like it: Once again, I've run out of words. So my advice? Enjoy the song.

Beautiful, by MercyMe

The days will come when you don't have the strength
When all you hear is you're not worth anything
Wondering if you ever could be loved
And if they truly saw your heart they'd see too much

You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are made so much more than all of this
You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are treasured, You are sacred, You are His
You're beautiful

And praying that you have the heart to find
Cause you are more than what is hurting you tonight
For all the lies you've held inside so long
And they are nothing in the shadow of the cross

You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are made so much more than all of this
You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You are treasured, You are sacred, You are His
You're beautiful

Oh My God

Due to a variety of reasons, including a bad cold and plenty of homework, I forgot that Monday was Monday until today, Thursday. Yes, Music Monday is late. Again.

I didn't quite know what song to use this week: there were too many options to have a definite choice. I ended up on Oh My God, by Jars of Clay. A few years ago, my uncle, who recently died of pancreatic cancer, gave me the Good Monsters album by Jars of Clay. It was Christmas 2008, the year his cancer was discovered, and at the time, I was too immature to truly appreciate the album. In fact, I was afraid to listen to Oh My God because the lyrics seemed so sacrilegious to me. I listened to the flashier songs without even understanding the lyrics.

I've been increasingly frustrated with CCM recently because of its complete inability to face the brokenness that's inherent in this world. But this album is ... different. And I can't explain it. Just go listen to it, and you can start with

Oh My God, by Jars of Clay

 Oh my God, look around this place,
Your fingers reach around the bone,
you set the break and set the tone
For flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain all fools say, "Oh my God."

Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
we make it worse when we don't bleed,
there is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again,
or fake your death and only tell your closest friends,
Oh My God.

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief.
Weddings, boats, and alibis,
All drift away, and a mother cries...

Liars and fools, sons and failures, theives will always say..
Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say..
Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say..
Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say..
War creators, racial haters, preachers always say..
Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say..
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say..
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say..

Sometimes I can not forgive
and these days mercy cuts so deep,
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I'd dream we're better, scales were gone and faces lighter,
When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other,
Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent,
Falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven,
All the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up.
Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them.
All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.

Prelude 12/21

This week's is brought to you by my growing frustration. I've chosen Prelude 12/21 by AFI because it really does express some of my feelings recently. Especially the last verse, but that's a matter for my journal, not my blog. ;)

Besides being expressive of my current mood, Prelude 12/21 also has some pretty iconic melody lines. Every once in a while, there's a song that just captures something in the melody, and it seems as if you've heard the song before. That's how it is with this song.

Prelude 12/21, by AFI

This is what I brought you, this you can keep.
This is what I brought, you may forget me.
I promise to depart, just promise one thing.
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

This is what I brought you, this you can keep.
This is what I brought, you may forget me.
I promise you my heart just promise to sing.
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

This is what I thought, I thought you’d need me.
This is what I thought, so think me naive
I'd promised you a heart, you'd promise to keep.
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

`Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.`

In Denial

I was talking with a friend the other day about another friend. You could call it gossip, but I wouldn't for two simple reasons. First, we were talking about how my friend interacts with her friend, and second, it wasn't in any way negative about the friend's friend.

If you understand that, good for you. I'm not sure if I do myself.

Anyways, we were talking, and the subject of denial was brought up. Maybe it's because I've been in denial myself recently, or maybe because we were talking about it so recently, but I've been thinking about denial a lot.

This is how I figure it. Denial is not acknowledging that a problem exists, but in order for someone to be in denial, there needs to be a problem. It can be one you've observed for yourself, or it could be brought to your attention by someone else. But it has to exist, and the issue has to have been raised for denial to occur. Otherwise, it's just oblivion.

Did that make sense? I'll try it again.

Say someone has the problem of being an obsessive, compulsive neat freak, to the point of alienating others. Oblivion is when this OCD person doesn't realize that the neat freakiness of his or her personality is driving others away. Denial is when the person has realized for themselves or had it presented to them as the reason they have no friends. Capische?

Denial doesn't say "there is no problem." Denial says "this may be a problem, but I really don't want it to be." It's cowardly, in a way. Rather than confronting issues and challenges head-on, a person in denial subscribes to the ostriches' philosophy: If I don't see it, it doesn't exist. Denial is complacency, comfortableness with the status quo.

Well, sticking your head in the ground doesn't solve anything. And to be quite frank, the world is changing every second. The Future is being converted into the Past as the present rips away Now before we know it. Peter Pan is the hero most to be pitied, for he can never change who he is. And denying that a problem exist denies changes which are omnipresent.

Denial isn't oblivion. It's a choice; a conscious, active choice to ignore the state of the world around you. And if I indulge that decision, I'm no better than a traitor to reality.

B

Dreams, by EA Poe

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
'Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright
I' the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
'Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- 'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe'er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.

I have been happy, tho' in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

I can assure this was going to be a scintillating look into my psyche. But it won't come out. I've run out of words to describe things now. So you'll have to bear with me as I bang on this keyboard, trying to make sense of it all.

First of, I should apologize to you, my reader, for turning this blog into little more than a vaguely worded personal journal. That was not my intent. When you have something you want to tell someone but cannot tell anyone, everyone is forced to deal with it. You've been subjected to far more navel-gazing than ever permissible. And if you've stuck through it, I am both humbled and penitent.

As for the reasons behind all this frustration and angst, I can't go into that. You're probably thinking something about the state of my sanity, and whatever it is, I'd probably agree.

Gah. I don't know.

I just don't have the words. They've gone. Shriveled. Disappeared. And with it, any hope of mine to explain to anyone anything that's going on with me. There's so much I could say, but won't. And that leaves very little of anything else.

Worse still, I owe it to a few people to tell them something inexpressible. What do I do? Walk up and drown these acquaintances with a torrent of words, emotions and problems they could care less about? That's not going to happen. Even if I were a thousand times worse, I wouldn't forget that other people exist and have their own problems.

The question still remains. What can I do about it? Nothing. All I can do is hope to weather this, that this too shall pass, and that I'll last longer than the ones I need to be strong for.

And if this post lasts past tomorrow, I shall be most surprised.
B, wordless

Winterborn

 After much rumination, the song I've chosen today is Winterborn, by the Cruxshadows. I've been reading Beowulf

recently, and this song reminds me a whole lot of Beowulf's final battle. A dragon starts ravaging 

Beowulf's land, so he and his soldiers go to stop it. Beowulf is fatally injured, his soldiers run away, and 

finally there is one young man left to help him slay the dragon. After the dragon dies, so does Beowulf. 

Don't ask me how that applies to this song. But it makes sense to me. Actually, wait. I think I know the 

connection now. It's because both Beowulf's death and this song outline classic ideals of heroism. 

But without further ado,

Winterborn, by the Cruxshadows

Dry your eyes and quietly bear this pain with pride
For heaven shall remember the silent and the brave
And promise me they will never see, the fear within our eyes
(my eyes are closed)
We will give strength to those who still remain

So bury fear, for fate draws near
And hide the signs of pain
With noble acts, the bravest souls
Endure the heart's remains
Discard regret, that in this debt
A better world is made
That children of a newer day might remember
And avoid our fate

(I've waited all day in the pouring rain, but nobody came, no, nobody came)

And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be your light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith is come
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born

Hold your head up high-for there is no greater love
Think of the faces of the people you defend
(you defend)
And promise me, they will never see the tears within our eyes
(my eyes are closed)
Although we are men, with mortal sins, angels never cry

So bury fear, for fate draws near
And hide the signs of pain
With noble acts, the bravest souls
Endure the heart's remains
Discard regret, that in this debt
A better world is made
That children of a newer day might remember
And avoid our fate

And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be your light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith in God
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born

And in the fury of this darkest hour
I will be your light
A lifetime for this destiny
For I am Winter born
And in this moment..I will not run
It is my place to stand
We few shall carry hope
Within our bloodied hands
(bloodied hands)
And in our Dying, we're more alive-than we have ever been
I've lived for these few seconds
For I am Winter born

And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be the light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith in man
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born

Within this moment now
I am for you, though better men have failed
I will give my life for love
For I am Winter born
And in my dying
I'm more alive, than I have ever been
I will make this sacrifice
For I am Winter born

B, who apologizes for the wonky formatting 

Snippet

I like it when a lot of my friends are green on gmail chat, not because I can talk to them, but because the green light reminds me that they exist.

If I Ever Leave This World Alive

Well, I was looking through my archives of Music Mondays, and realized I hadn't introduced Flogging Molly, one of my favorite bands of all time. The only way to describe Flogging Molly is as an Irish-American Celtic punk band. They're brilliant.

So today, let me tell you about If I Ever Leave This World Alive, by Flogging Molly. Yes, the video is a Dr. Who fan vid. Deal with it.

*ahem* Well, If I Ever Leave This World Alive follows in the vein of a previous song, I Am Stretched On Your Grave. It's sweet, slightly morbid, and definitely something I want played at my funeral. It's also upbeat, pretty hopeful, and has a delicious little non-sequitur involved.

So without further ado,
If I Ever Leave This World Alive

If I ever leave this world alive
I'll thank for all the things you did in my life
If I ever leave this world alive
I'll come back down and sit beside your
feet tonight
Wherever I am you'll always be
More than just a memory
If I ever leave this world alive

If I ever leave this world alive
I'll take on all the sadness
That I left behind
If I ever leave this world alive
The madness that you feel will soon subside
So in a word don't shed a tear
I'll be here when it all gets weird
If I ever leave this world alive

So when in doubt just call my name
Just before you go insane
If I ever leave this world
Hey I may never leave this world
But if I ever leave this world alive

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,
Though you have gone from my life
You said that it would,
Now everything should be all right

She says I'm okay; I'm alright,
Though you have gone from my life
You said that it would,
Now everything should be all right
Yeah should be alright

painted ship upon a painted ocean

I feel like the Ancient Mariner. I'm on a ship, drifting in the doldrums with no crew but the dead bodies of my compatriots, no water, no food, and no hope of salvation in sight. Water like witch's oil, slimy creatures crawling with slimy legs upon the slimy sea, and no other souls in the area. Just me and God.

When I was little, my favorite book began: "I see the moon, and the moon sees me. Does anyone know I'm alone here at sea?" The clues are all there, if one cared to look. But no one has, and I don't blame them. It's easier to mind your own business than to be caught up in what is not your concern. Everyone has a clue, but no one has cared to put them together.

Tomorrow, my friend Toothpick is getting married. A lot of her bridesmaids are my good friends, back from college, and naively, I thought things would be the same. Wrong. They've moved on to quarters and classes and roommates and floor parties and crazy professors, and I've been left behind. Granted, I did see this coming, but "I told you so" never solved anything. The same feeling of shyness and aloneness has invaded the relationships I have with the few people I trust. No, I'd never bring up confidences in the middle of Toothpick's bachelorette party, but I had hoped that I'd see something, anything, that would show that the friendship is not just withering. Wrong again.

The same feeling of aloneness, shyness, quiet resignation from my stranger-friends is also found around the people I'd previously called mates. Now I'm just confused, and I don't know exactly what to do. I've told these friends things I wouldn't have had I known they'd moved on this much. My fault, not theirs. I don't blame them. I guess the only thing to do is not trust them with more confidences. I don't know. 


"Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie;
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I."

B

Paranoia

For a couple weeks, I've been a little concerned about friendships. More specificially, how I feel around my friends.

I'm the type of person who questions everything - and I mean everything - before doing anything. Before saying anything. I examine my motives, my opinions, my hopes, anything that could affect my decision very closely before taking action.

Imagine my surprise and discomfort, then, when I discovered the following fact: I was feeling oddly around my guy-friends, and whatever this unidentified feeling was, it was strongly influencing my actions. Now that's an embarrassing realization.

Let me explain why: I don't take actions without knowing why I'm doing them. Now, I've got an emotional memory going back to 2005, when I was 12. By emotional memory, I mean, I can recognize emotions I've had since that time.

I haven't felt whatever it is I'm feeling for as long as I can remember.  For a while, my working theory was that it was what people commonly call "a crush." Problem being, I haven't had a crush since my *ahem* boy-crazy days (circa 2003-2004), so I wouldn't know one if it introduced itself with a handshake. I hoped it wasn't, but I couldn't know.  "Crush" seemed the only option.

That is, until I realized that I felt the same way around pretty much all my friends left here in Washington. Including the gal-friends. If the feeling is a "crush," I really don't like the implication.

So it can't be a crush. I won't allow it. Then I got to thinking. This feeling is remarkably similar to my first day of co-op, my first day of choir, my first day of speech club. In other words, the closest match I have is shyness.

This new implication, while still upsetting, is nonetheless less disturbing  than being attracted to all my friends.

...

But still. Shyness? really? I'm shy around the only people I can call friends who I still physically interact with every week? I'm shy around the two guys I spent over 70 hours with this summer? I'm shy around my duo-partner, Calvin? Around girls I paged with? Around people I call my friends?

And yet, I still treat them as strangers. Are they friends of necessity?

How can I call people my friends if they don't know me, and I don't know them?

I don't know. I just really, don't know.

B