New Year's Eve

An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves. ~Bill Vaughan

I don't know which category I fall into in regard to the above quote. There is a bit of both in me, I think.

I watched the last light of the last day of 2006 fade from the trunks and boughs of the pines on top of the hill near my house. It seemed to cling just a little longer than usual, as if the year was hesitant to pass on, as if it would stay now that its time has come.

Yesterday and last night, torrential rains swept through Podunk. The rain was sufficient to set dry streams running and to cut shallow rivulets through my driveway. As I listened to it pounding the metal roof in the back of the house, I kept thinking that it was the hand of God washing away the old year, cleaning the slate, as it were.

2006 was not a particularly good year for me. Those of you who have been reading me for a long time may have noticed the shift of topic and tone in my blog; of course, with the infrequency of my blogging, the change may not be apparent. It's been so much easier to stick with the trivial or not to write at all. If you know me personally, you may have noticed that my usual taciturn nature has been even more than its usual solitary self.

There were things from the past that came back to me this year, things I cannot and will not discuss in a forum such as this, but suffice it to say, these things put a crack into that thin roof of hell upon which the famous quote says we all stride picking flowers, oblivious to the imminent danger just below. The idea that the monsters in the closet come back after childhood is over is enough to make anybody run, and running is exactly what I've been doing. Things I used to care about and enjoy have been pushed to the wayside. Friendships I treasure have been allowed to slide into decline. It's been easy to be too busy for everything because being busy keeps the mind from having time to engage topics better left alone.

I refuse to live 2007 this way. If I do, the monsters in the darkness win. So tonight, as I prepare for my own observances of the death of the old year and the birth of the new, I am lighting every candle in the house. The lights on my porch still glow and twinkle. There will be no darkness, no horrible things waiting in the shadows tonight. I will meet the new year with hope and with purpose. My family has its own traditions, and one of those is that odd-numbered years are lucky for us. I am looking forward to a lucky and healing 2007.

Happy New Year to you, wherever you may be.

Nothing Like Sickness for the Holidays

Christmas Eve morning, I woke up with that spaced-out feeling that precedes a bout of sinus crap for me. I hoped against hope that it was just allergies stirred up by something the previous day, but by the time I got home from church, I was really looped out. I went to sleep, and slept all day.

Christmas day, I was supposed to cook a breakfast meal for my family so we could do our gift exchange, but I couldn't even get up. We finally had Christmas last night around 8, and it was very low key.

I hate being sick, but this is the worst. I am fighting it with every medicine known to man, so hopefully, I can stave off an infection or bronchitis. I guess I should be glad that it's not school time right now, but man, I did NOT want to waste my precious holiday with this....

Citizen Kane

Today, I saw the movie ranked #1 by the AFI top 100 movies of all time poll. I don't know exactly why I haven't seen it before now, but it's one that has eluded me. I am currently trying out Netflix, and I decided to send for Citizen Kane after having seen most of Welles' Othello in my recent Shakespeare class.

I enjoyed it for several reasons. I was able, thanks to the Shakespeare class, to appreciate some of the technical things that were going on film-wise, and with me, the more I know about something, the deeper my enjoyment generally is. The storyline was also captivating, as was the way the story was presented. I can see why it's considered to be so great. If I knew more about its technical aspects, I could probably understand better why it's considered to be the best ever. I'm a little leery of labels like that.

While I don't think it will ever become one of my frequently-watched favorites, I am glad I saw it. I want to watch it one more time before I send it back to get the flavor of it better.

Passion for Vintage

Yesterday, another box of the vintage Shiny-Brite ornaments I won on eBay arrived. These were in the original box with Uncle Sam and Santa shaking hands. As I took each incredibly thin and fragile ornament from its box, I wondered what kind of Christmases each had seen. What presents had been unwrapped, what family meals had been consumed in their gentle twinkle? I felt privileged to be a part of their continuing history. I have one more box of them on the way, and that will probably end my collecting of Shiny Brite.

I have also been using my old cotton print tablecloths this season. My favorite one is a 1960's Santa and reindeer in reds, greens, and browns. It makes me incredibly happy just to smooth my hand across it on my table. Again, I can almost feel the "happy holiday vibe" coming from it. Granted, it could have been put away in someone's linen closet and never unfolded, but I prefer to think that maybe for at least one holiday, it soaked up some joy.

Currently, I am on the trail of a chenille peacock bedspread. I know just the colors I want, but I am having a hard time finding one in good condition and at an affordable price. A gorgeous one is up for auction on eBay, but the seller wants $250, and there's no way I can justify that. Hopefully, before summer, I will be able to find one that is both the color combination and price I desire. I think it will look great with the decor I already have in the house.

I guess I'm just a hard-core vintage junkie. Other prize holiday possessions are my previously mentioned Phil Spector collection and the absolutely lovely, sparkly Christmas tree pin I won at auction. I am going to wear it proudly to church tomorrow. Each of these items has opened up conversations with others: friends, parents, other collectors. This is one of my favorite parts of these things. My dad remembers having Shiny Brites on his family's Christmas trees when he was a child, and he knows, as did I, that my grandmother would have loved the Christmas tree pin. It's a connection to my own personal past as well as to the past of those who loved the items before me.

Another satisfying aspect of these things is finding their place in history. Nothing I have is of exceptional value; in fact, many of the things I enjoy collecting are fairly inexpensive. None of them are in the running with Waterford or Haviland for price, value, or historical significance. However, I've been learning a lot about these American products, and through them, I'm opening tiny windows into recent American history. Shiny Brite was made on a machine that was developed by Corning for light bulbs, and the peacock spreads were made in Georgia and originally sold off clotheslines to tourists. The tablecloths I love so much were a household staple brightening the kitchen tables of America for thirty years or so before they fell out of favor. These are the items that were common during my grandparents' and parents' time.

Now I have the joy of using these things and adding my own memories to the collections they already hold. There's nothing pretentious about these common-place treasures, but each time I unfold one of my vintage cloths, add a PEZ to my collection, place a hanger through the metal loop atop a Shiny Brite, or pin on my glittery tree pin or one of my other vintage brooches, I am making a bridge between the past and the present. It's a comfortable place to be.

Peace on Earth

We had a really great trip today to see my uncle. I had given Mom part of her Christmas gift early, an Elvis Christmas CD, and we all hummed along and sang as we traveled. Normally, Mom and I get irritated with each other at some point, but today was very peaceful. Maybe we need Elvis all the time.

Now, I'm back home, and although I had hoped to go carolling tonight, the current mizzening rain is kind of nice, too. There's a snoozing pit bull on the couch, various and sundry napping cats draped across chair backs and velour blankets, and I have at least three books I can choose from to spend the evening with.

I also got a package today from one of my eBay purchases. Six of the old-fashioned indent glass ornaments I won came in, and they look great on my tree. The other auction gained me eight more, and maybe they'll come in tomorrow. I love the old-fashioned look of them.

I'm going to spend the evening with the animals, the glittering tree, and whichever of the paperbacks I finally settle on. How could life possibly be better?

Phil Spector's A Christmas Gift for You

Today, the DHL man zipped up the driveway in his large, appropriately-yellow van, managed to overcome his fear of Roux, and delivered Phil Spector's Christmas compilation to my door. It's a fabulous bit of Christmas fluff. I have been listening to it as I've been driving around in this unseasonably hot 75 degree weather to finish out my Christmas shopping, and I am in a better mood than I've been in for a long time. I think it's probably impossible to listen to the Crystals sing "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" and be grumpy. I went bopping down the interstate and didn't once feel like yelling at anyone. I even managed to be cheery in the midst of the chaotic hell that is Wal-Mart these last few days before the holiday because no matter how many people cut me off with carts or screaming children, I was humming "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" a la the Ronettes. It was great. It's amazing how happy thirteen bucks can make a person sometimes...

Long Time, No Blog

I simply haven't felt like blogging in the past month. I've been too tired or too busy. I've often thought about it, but I simply haven't been able to scrape up enough interest to get into it.

I've spent the last few days since school got out singing in our choir musical, entertaining people from church, and generally trying to rest up some. Today, I spent most of the morning reading and glancing through eBay. It's delightful.

Soon, I really need to get the last of my Christmas shopping done. The same old dilemmas persist: what am I going to get Mom and Dad, people who want nothing, need nothing, and will request nothing? This year, I think I found a couple of neat things, but really, I still don't know exactly what to get them, and I don't want it to be gift certificates. I might go roam around Jackson a day and see if I can't find something there.

Well, I'll try to keep up the blog better now. Maybe I'll be able to come up with something better than the inane commentary here.

Holiday Procrastination

I am hopelessly behind with my work for my two night classes, so of course, today I got my Christmas tree, hung the lights and the ornaments, fixed the lights on my porch, and did laundry and other housework. The more behind I get with school, the spiffier my house and my holiday decorations get. I'm sure it's a kind of sickness.

It's nice, though, to see the tree up and all the lights glittering. I love Christmas, as I've said here before, and now when I'm coming home at dark-thirty from the endless pageant of night class crud, I will be able to see my lights welcoming me home. That along with a heavy dose of Christmas carols in the car and during my off period are keeping me in a mostly Christmasy mood.

Yesterday, I went to the Chimneyville Crafts Festival in Jackson. It's so nice to go somewhere and see items lovingly made by hand rather than mass-produced and cheaply-made things. Part of the experience is getting to talk to the craftspeople, too. I had a thirty minute conversation with a potter whose husband has an anagama (Japanese style wood fired kiln) in Tennessee. It was a touch of Japan, and I was thrilled. The piece I bought from them, a splendid raven figure, is something I had been thinking of since last year's show. They only make two each year, and last year both had been sold when I got there. This year, I was able to buy one. It's sitting in regal black satin splendor on my living room shelves.

Tonight, I played for church and also wound up getting drafted to sing. I was a nervous wreck, as usual, but I managed to get it out okay. The song, "What Child Is This?", is one of my favorites, so that helped. Now, I suppose I need to do a little class work before the almighty teacher bedtime kicks in. Sigh. Where are those magic ruby slippers or genie lamps when you really need them?

Things Your Dog Won't Forgive

I know it's tacky and heinous, but I saw these at the dollar store and was seized by the need to see Roux wearing them. Since she got bunches of treats, maybe she'll forgive me at some point....

A Largely Useless Bliss

I did nothing over the holiday. I have spent an entire week resting, reading, and taking care of those day-to-day chores I have no time for during the school week. It's been wonderful. I got a haircut, so I no longer look like a shaggy pony. I went with my family to see a dog they're going to adopt. I made calls, registered for classes, put up holiday decorations, dug out my Christmas CDs, cleaned out my refrigerator, and folded about five hundred pieces of laundry that had been waiting in baskets for a long time. I swept, mopped, and vacuumed. I went through a pile of old bills and mail. I tried my darnedest to get my Christmas lights working but only managed to coax about 1/3 of them to burn. I went to see my uncle who lives in the northern part of the state. I sunned my feather mattress, chased my dogs, aired out my house, took naps with my kitten, and I refuse to apologize for one minute of it. I think now, even though I am very behind school-wise, I have the reserves built back up to jump in, get serious, and survive this last manic push to Christmas. I might even have a little bit of Christmas spirit.

Seeing Red

Friday, three guys were talking while they were doing their Canterbury Tales projects and their conversation turned to their bad, bad dogs and how their dogs could take out anybody else's dog. I tried to ignore it, but when one of them started talking about how his dog had taken another by the throat, I told them to stop the conversation. I wanted to pick up a heavy object and hurl it, or even better, defenestrate them personally.

Only a weak, sorry human being gets joy out of goading an animal to fight another. Only worthless, powerless trash would take a loving, fierce, loyal dog and twist it into a killing machine. Pit bulls, Rotties, Mastifs....all are glorious and game dogs. All of them would put themselves through hell if their owner showed them approval. All of them have animal aggression that can be turned into a lethal weapon. Nobody I can have any respect for would ever twist that power and spirit into something to amuse and bet on, to debase and abuse.

And it is abuse. Let there be no questions. Let there be no claim that the animal is personal property, that it is natural for the dog, or that it doesn't hurt anyone. It is the most basic betrayal of the bond between man and dog, and I wish with a fervent and passionate desire that all the dog fighters could be adequately punished. I wish they could know the terror and the pain of the animals they abuse. I wish somebody would put every single worthless, disgusting, inhuman one of them under a jail somewhere and forget them.

Because of these human vermin, the pit bull has taken on a reputation as a vicious dog. There are cities all over the country where even owning one or a dog that looks like what somebody thinks might be a pit is illegal. The dogs can be taken and destroyed just because of their breed. No actual assessment of the dog itself is done. It's a pit; it's a threat; it's a dead animal. This is the legacy of the dog fighter.

But the legacy of pain doesn't even stop there. Even more horrific are the breeding programs, the bait dogs, the poor abused and maimed creatures left after the battle, and all the dogs who die for the bloodlust and avarice of their so-called masters.

How anybody could look into the eyes of a dog as brave and loving as a pit and see only a deadly toy to be used and disposed of is beyond me. Instead of law enforcement focusing its sights on the dogs, why can't they begin to punish the human refuse that tortures and abuses them? Instead of the media frothing everyone into a state of hysteria over vicious animals, why can't they dispose of the vicious owners and raise the public's awareness of the truth about this situation?

I am passionate about this. I don't think anyone with a shred of love for animals who has seen some of the abused and rescued dogs that come from this world could fail to be angry about it. I only hope our culture can reawaken some of its respect for all life and start punishing these semi-human monsters with the severity their crime demands.

Just the Coolest Thing Ever

Last night, Mom, Dad, and I went out to eat and then headed over to Sam's. Sam's is a place of great financial danger for me. I always, always, always spend too much money when I go there.

While I was there, I browsed through the Christmas stuff, and they had just the coolest thing ever. It was a giant Mr. Potato Head wearing a pirate outfit. He was like a cookie jar, and he's full of four other Potato Heads and all their accouterments. I swear I giggled like a five-year-old. Just seeing that giant pirate potato made my weariness slide away.

I'll tell you the truth. People were buzzing around those toys like moths drawn to a flame. Many happy children, or crazy middle-aged people like myself, are going to have those. I bet they'll all be gone by the end of the week. There's just something so non-threatening and smile-inducing about Mr. Potato Head.

I brought him home to add to my collection of kitsch toys in my office. He goes quite well with all the PEZ and the Darth Vader Potato Head I already had. I'm sure it says something not-so-flattering about me that I'm 30, and I still like Mr. Potato Head, but as I told my students: everybody collects something, and if something as simple as this makes me happy, then I think I'm pretty well off.

A Moment of Peace

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

I'm sitting outside at a table at the university branch here in town. The sun is gilding the poplar leaves, there's a gentle wind soughing in the tops of the still-green live oaks, and even though this place is close to a busy road, there is peaceful birdsong. Only occasionally does the road noise become intrusive.

I needed this moment of peace desperately. I have been in a constant state of furious motion since yesterday at 5:30 a.m. I did my class day, did my class night, went to the grocery store, came home, fell down, got back up, came back to work, set up a buffet table, led a meeting, dealt with the aftermath of that, and am just now having a minute where something isn't demanding my attention. It's divine.

Soon, I will have to get up and go to another meeting, another class, but for just right now, the only sound I have to focus on is that wonderful leaf-rustle of late fall. I will try to wrap this moment around me like a warm blanket against the haste and furor to come.

Places Cellphones Should Not Go

I just had an odd experience. I was in the ladies' room prior to my night class starting, and I began to hear voices. Doesn't that sound like a cry for medication and /or a "vacation"? It turned out that someone was checking her messages with the speakerphone option turned on in the stall two or three down from me.

I got to hear all her personal business including a song somebody left as a message for her. The song was the freakiest part. Imagine a disembodied voice singing in that tinny tone given by cellphones in the emptiness of a large ladies' room. Surreality at work, folks. I wanted to laugh, but didn't want to be rude.... Oops, too late....

Google

"Don't be evil." -- Google motto

I like Google. I use their web pages, calendar, photo editing software, and of course, this wonderful Blogger. Every last tiny bit of it is free. They put it out there because they think everybody ought to have access to useful tools without having to mortgage a house to get them. Isn't that an almost foreign concept in today's world of burden the market all it can bear capitalism?

The calendar application is one of my favorites. I can keep up with all my various classes' assignments online, and parents and students who miss can use the calendar to see what they've missed. It's so much more efficient than a paper calendar which invariably gets lost. Students can print it off and tote it with them if need be, and then go to the website to get the handouts or Power Points to do the assignments.

Google keeps putting new stuff out, and every time they do, it's always something that I think, "Huh, why didn't somebody else think of that?" Their video service is something I'm exploring, but I have already found old Buster Keaton movies, the 1984 Mac commercial, and several other things I wanted to use for class. If it grows as fast as some of their other services, I can only imagine what will be out there next.

It's amazing to me that all of this grew out of a search engine. It's nice to see a company innovating, growing, succeeding, and yet not sticking it to their users just because they can. Kudos, Google, kudos.

Romeo and Juliet

Last night, I went to a newly rennovated theater downtown and watched the Aquilla acting company's version of Romeo and Juliet. It was wonderful, the theater and the performance both.

The theater is a part of a downtown rennovation project. The Grand Opera House was built just before the turn of the last century, and in its heyday, it was one of the premiere entertainment destinations in the southeast. It fell into disrepair, was closed down, and because it was on the second floor, also suffered the indignity of having a shoe store put in what was once its lobby. I remember going with my mom to the department store of which the opera house was a part. It was such an old-fashioned building that the elevators still required an operator to run them. While Mom shopped, I rode the elevator, and the kindly lady who worked it would tell me stories of the opera house. I always dreamed of going to a performance in it.

I saw it briefly in high school. A local theater company had reopened it and was trying to use it for amateur performances. It was in very bad shape, though, and I wondered then if anything would ever be done to save it. About five years ago, Mississippi State University and a local group of philanthropists bought the property and started massive rennovations. They have combined the old department store and the theater into one large center. The department store became a conference center, and the theater was restored to its full late Victorian glory. It was absolutley wonderful. I was so proud to see the care that had been taken to preserve what was already there and the additions that will allow it to be useful for professional performances. I don't think this town has ever had anything like it, or at least, not since the opera house was open in its original incarnation.

Romeo and Juliet was different again. The company consisted of six actors, and to figure out which roles they'd be playing, the actors went to the audience and had them draw roles out of a sack. We managed to wind up with a male Romeo and a female Juliet, but some nights, depending on the luck of the draw, they don't. The costumes and sets were stark and simple, but the wonderful language had the same power. I really enjoyed it. The character who played the Nurse as one of his three roles was a riot. He milked every innuendo and seemed to be having a good time with it.

Overall, it was a night of what I needed. I desperately needed something that wasn't teaching or taking classes, something with beauty and art. I am looking forward to more performances at our new theater.

Phantoms

I just saw the most recent film version of The Phantom of the Opera, and I know I'm going to be singing various parts of it for days. I had put off watching it for awhile even though I've had the disc for some time now. I was afraid it wouldn't be as good as I had hoped it would be, but it was even better, I think.

I love this story. I first read Phantom in junior high school, and it became one of those stories I revisit every year or so. Sometime in high school, I read Susan Kay's novel Phantom, which added a tremendous back story about why the Phantom was the way he was. I have almost worn that copy out with rereads. I don't know if it's even still in print, but if you enjoy this story and haven't read it, you might check Amazon for it. It's universally wonderful.

The next stage of my great love for this story came when I saw the 1929 silent version presented in a local historic movie palace. Even though the building had long since become a performing arts center, they lowered the original "silver screen", dusted off the projector, and showed Lon Chaney version for Halloween one year. They had also just finished the restoration of the world-class theater organ this theater is fortunate enough to house, and a master organist was invited in to show off that powerful instrument's range. Even though the seats in this wonderful old building are tiny, having been sized for bodies in the 1920s, I was absolutely spellbound by the thundering organ and the pathos of the creature suffering and striking out in pain. That film version is one of my all-time favorite versions of the story, and I added it to my personal collection earlier this year.

This newest version satisfied a long-standing desire to see the Andrew Lloyd Weber version. I know the film and the stage production are going to vary, but I have had the original cast soundtrack since college and have spent many a long road trip and flight wondering what images went with the music. Now, at least, I have some idea of how things go together. A lot of it is as I imagined it, but the costuming and the performances were so gloriously ornate. It was perfect.

The story of the Phantom is just another example of how I always empathize with the "monster". There is not one solitary doubt in my mind that had I found myself in Christine Daae's position, I would have dumped the milquetoast Vicount de Chagny and stayed with the Dark Angel of Music. Of course, this is probably indicative of all sorts of reasons why I always fall for guys who are inappropriate or imaginary.

Regardless, there is such power in this story. What would Erik have been able to accomplish without the prejudice against his appearance? Would he have become a killer without the cruelty of others? Can anyone, when told he or she is monstrous from infancy by even one's family, find a way not to become a monster?

In many of the stories, the Phantom is given some reprieve at the end. The version I saw tonight made it clear he lived on. Susan Kay's version gives a gentle and beautiful finality to it. I think that's what we are all rooting for in the end, the idea that the Angel of Music can find a way to mend his broken wings and soar out of the endless night in which he has both been confined and confined himself.

By the Way

The blood work came back, and I finally got a surly nurse to tell me what the results were. Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be any problem with anything they tested. I suppose the headaches are a combination of stress, allergies, and other factors about which nothing can be done. I am just so happy that my blood sugar was okay. That's one less crisis to have to deal with.

Screaming with a Smile

There are things about school that sometimes make me want to throw my Shakespeare bobble head in a tote bag and go home before lunch. Often lately as I've been working with my classes, I've had the urge to close my book with the delicacy one would use in handling bone china, gently place the wooden stool I use with my speaker's stand in its place, blow out my candle, and pull the door soundlessly shut behind me. This softness would be the last mask before the true frustration emerges. It would be necessary because if it disappeared, all that would be left would be something that I couldn't live with.

It's the time of the year and the fact that I have three preps this year. Honestly, I love my kids. Some days, though, most days recently, they're treading on very thin ice. I get little sleep, have great stress, and get mortally weary of saying the same stupid things over and over. I am tired of student who strain at gnats and swallow camels. Apathy, after a very short time, becomes a physical pressure in the room.

This is a late-October teacher cry. Tomorrow, I'll go back to work, screaming with a smile.

Great Quote

Today's quote of the day, "Only the educated are free" by Epictetus, is one of my favorite quotes. How much truth is wrapped up in that one small statement? Ignorance is slavery of heart, soul, and mind. Only by learning about ourselves, each other, and the wonderful world around us can we grow the wings we need to fly over the walls of the prison that holds us. Great quote. Really, really great quote.