A Hopeless Romantic: life truly lived, for you, me, & future posterity.

I picked a rose this afternoon, and it was a beautiful rose.  

I've found myself immersed in study and work lately; but don't worry, I've had my fair share of play.  Not to mention a daily dose of art and intrigue.  Sometimes I try picking up my favorite book, "To Kill A Mockingbird," when it's late at night, but I always fall asleep with my hand on the page.  I've taken to riding my bike a bit more lately too; and I've decided that his name is Bill, and we've come to be quite the comfortable pair.  

I've thought several times lately about what it means exactly to be a romantic, after finally deciding-or was it realizing? that that is what I am.  It's funny really, how pragmatic we assume ourselves to be.  In conclusion I've learned recently that to be a romantic is not only to joy in a sunset at a lover's side, but to joy in the sunset for being a sunset alone.  To climb a tree for the sake of climbing, and to lie in the grass under that tree, because you're tired from swinging in the park, and just want to watch the leaves fall.  It's living life for the sake of living, and loving every moment of it.  To feel squishy mud beneath our feet, while listening to a cricket's rhythmic beat.  But the romance of life does not reside in nature alone; it breeds from ideas and people too.  From the taste of a Roman pear, to the reflective impressions of Plato himself.  To live my brothers and sisters, to be a romantic is to truly live.  

Counting the moments till the leaves really start to fall off the trees, and planning trips up the canyon and piles in the park, I realize a little more deeply what life is all about.  What my experiences today can do for the world tomorrow, for my friends, family, myself, my children.  How can I show them a world I've never seen before?  How can I inspire without having answered the call alone?  From this moment onward I'll live a little more truly, sincerely, fully even, so that one day and along the way, I can better share it with those around me; the world, my friends, family, myself, my children.  

i absolutely love walking -in bare feet.

The first thing you should know about me-before we become friends-is that I absolutely love walking in bare feet.  I'm not exactly sure as to why, I just love it I guess.  Maybe it's the texture of cool grass or course cement that coaxes me out my socks-but then again, I've always hated socks.  Actually, this isn't exactly true.  Growing up I wore socks all of the time-wait, though never in the house.

Yep, it's settled, I've always loved bare feet, and always will.  Though, I know it's begun to take a toll on my left foot at least, but que será, será, we all live and learn.  

Of course, I can't always wander without shoes; and there are always places where I would hardly dare to-like empty allies, state parks, or county fairs.  So what do I do when it comes to places like these?  SANDALS! heck yes.  

Now, you may wonder, as to why exactly I'm explaining all of this.  I mean, what does it matter to our friendship if I wear socks or not?  Personally, I'm not so very sure either.  But I do know that this is one tendency that definitely defines me.  So, I thought that I'd just let you know.  

love

me.

Stereotyping.

I honestly cannot, can never, hide from the sociologist inside of me; that rare identity I never knew existed until I came across the course description in the BYU catalog two years ago. That weird little quirky side that can't help but analyze and contemplate every social class, group, or gathering. The people somehow thrown together, drawn to each other, inseparable, yet in spite of their perfect sameness so different as individuals they seem, --they are, rather. 

What brings these people together? 

I'm baffled a second time when I realize that stereotypes, no matter how close one may come to fulfilling them, can still be spotted on a random corner at anytime doing something completely ridiculous and out of character. Like the preppie relishing in a Star Trek re-run or the skater secretly stashing the rainbow collection of Express Polos in the back of his closet. I mean are we really what we seem to be? Are we truly what we're labeled as? NO. We're not. And I guess deep down inside, most of us definitely know that, but sometimes we forget. And most of us play to every crowd anyway...how can't we??

Blanks to spread the jam over

There's something I just love about the sound of cities and busy Provo streets. Is it the cars? The wind? The moon in her hazy glow...a honk, a shout of laughter, the smoke stack shooting steam off from campus while the Bell Tower chimes "come, come ye saints". A car door slams, breaks squeak, and the SWKT just glows. There's some kind of engine off in the distance. The air is warm, and I'm tempted to daydream until morning. This is springtime in Utah: a regular Washington summer. It's 8 months that I wait for these days: 8 months of school. And again, I'm only a week away from the BYU graduation ceremonies that often surround my birthday, or at least I was when I first wrote this--I'd like to graduate on my birthday. Today I reflect on that moment and realize how quickly summer has found me. I comforted a sudden shock with a simple weekly chart I scribbled down on some journal paper this morning-it was some sort of schedule; very basic: work, work, work, FHE, church, just the basic things; you can fill in the blanks from there. And you know, I think we really need those blanks in life, you can't plan every moment in my opinion. Where would be the room for spontaneity without blanks? The freedom to breath, dream, and live? I'm not so sure. We need the blanks to spread the jam over, or perhaps take advantage of as free moments to breath-"one hot minute" as my good friend, Camm likes to say. So I dive into summer; for that's what I like to call spring too (I can't be content with only 1 season). I live 8 months for these days, and I soak them all in-like a sponge. I love my life, and life is good.

Flat Bread

Indian food is amazing. I mean, I've known this forever now, but I secretly just want to shout it from the rooftops. That's a little crazy...so we went to India Palace tonight in celebration of Muriel's BIRTHDAY, and it really took me back to that time Cheryl and I went out to eat last summer in that one restaurant, what was it called? The one next to the 7-Eleven? They put those everywhere don't they? Man, I really miss Northgate and Meridian, holy toledo, I lived on Meridian Ave...I miss Green Lake, and sleeping on the balcony when it was super hot. Oh, but what tonight really brought me back to were those Arab dinners we made back in the day: Fatoush, Fuhl, Lamb Curry, Couscous, hummus, oh sooooo good.

I'm going to learn how to make flat bread without turning it into crackers like last time.
It's just divine you know?

And potatoes, don't get me started. There's something comforting in a potato; it just brings you home.

I miss Arabic and I miss Spanish.

Should have had the tuna: excerpts from a 2010 journal

11:08 am. I bought one of those egg, cheese and sausage bagels today; not because they're good, more out of sentiment. It's practically summer in my opinion and so that's why yesterday I cut off two pairs of holy jeans into shorts and immediately put them on. I'd like to comment that this bagel sandwich is slightly stale.

I drink Smart Water not because I think it makes me look or feel smart but because I think it's a clever bottle design. Probably an overuse of plastic, but I never was an extreme environmentalist.

I'm honored and excited to spend 12 hours this Saturday with 16 other groups of musicians at Guitars Unplugged-March 27th, $5 tickets @BYU info desk, 2 shows, on sale NOW-I once said, as a freshman in high school that I would die for the arts, and although I've certainly rearranged my priorities since then, I still save a special part of me for art. For the words, for the paint, for the notes, for the act, for the dance. I treasure it all.

There are many explanations for the ontology of man, and although I find agency to be a leading definition under that category, I wouldn't deny creativity of second place. Man's ability to create and express, to share and inspire, are is his own. Maybe in reality it's only comparable to the capacity for language in general...but all in all I love stepping into the minds of men through their art, be it whatever form.

I'm kind of sick of the sausage, egg and cheese bagel by now.
Should have had the tuna.

Aftermath: American Fiction

Aftermath: a song by American Fiction

It's about living and fighting life.  It's crazy, it's hard, it good, it's fantastic.  It's complete. 

To my father:

Thank you for showing me to revere, 

those warriors that fight for our nation;

even when they're own hearts are full of fear.

Here to my mother:

I thank you for pushing me to strive,

for things i never thought i could attain -oh no;

even while others plot and contrite. 

To my sisters:

I thank you for demanding I treat women right; 

cause so many men simply don't, 

and wonder why at night they sleep alone.

To Megan and Katherine:

You were the ones who always believed,

that dreams aren't just meant for conversation;

they need to be lived out and achieved. 

This is:

the apple of my eye

This is:

of eden's fruit 

This is:

the seeds from which i grew

This is:

what i've been through.

And to those: 

Who tried so hard to hinder my path, 

there will be no retribution no wrath; 

what's done is done there will be no aftermath.

For rhis is triumph,

of the dreams we've had!

Oh, this is triumph, 

raise your fist and stand!

For this is triumph 

the rest have over come! 

For this is triumph, 

the righteous have won!

And triumph, is what i've done.

Spring, perfection: to be complete

It's the first day of Spring, and I'm happy. Winter finally ended and I'm stuffing those scarves back into their cardboard box. I was reading my auntie's blog today-I've just recently got into blogging...crazy...and was impressed by her final comment/life lesson on perfection, inspired by her sister in-law-whom I'm almost positive, is my other auntie (i LoVe my family):  

"My sister-in-law commiserated with my distress, saying that she had redefined perfection. That is very wise. Even in the Bible, where we are told to be "perfect" - the original word intended there means complete or whole - it does not mean 'without flaw'. I've embraced this perspective in other areas of life, mostly to retain my sanity. Perfection is no longer three gourmet meals each day served in a pristine, expensively furnished house by a size 2 wife and mother who never raises her voice. Perfection is complete love, complete joy, and all of the work it takes to get both. It is loud and messy and funny, exhausting and exhilarating. Perfect."  

It touched my soul and reminded me of what I've tried to make of this semester. I recall a January afternoon, crying in frustration to my sister, Amber. I was going to take less classes and focus on balance in my life, but the change from constant stress to sudden peace and time unsettled me. I did not understand what balance was about and strangely felt the lack of 'too-much-on-my-plate' to be almost sinful, or in a lighter sense: wrong, when in reality 'too-much-on-my-plate' was wrong to begin with.  

I haven't completed all of my goals this semester. I still go to bed too late and haven't done as much yoga as I had planned to, but the important things, I have begun to master those and I've decided that I really like oatmeal. Balance is key. Sleep, work, church, school, and play are all interconnected and rely on each other. One or two cannot take the place of all though you need to apply a little bit of each to feel completely whole, and that my friends, is perfection.  

This semester has been the greatest, the greatest blessing of my life, and I will continue it from here on out. I've never felt so complete, and so whole-though not without faults, this I'm sure of, but I still get up each day and I smile at the sun, his reflection in the mountains. Life and me is something I am working on each day, something that is a process we are all trying hard to work at.  

This life is good, and I thank God for his blessings.  

My favorite part of my auntie's quote was when she said, "Perfection is complete love, complete joy, and all of the work it takes to get both. It is loud and messy and funny, exhausting and exhilarating. Perfect."  

I think it's because it's so true. I feel it within my soul and I cry in joy at the thought.

On Intelligence

I've been thinking a lot about intelligence lately and just now recalled the four papers I need to write. I've decided that I'll do them tomorrow-"you're smart" I said, "you can do it." Then I wondered, does being able to write a paper quickly mean you're smart? I don't think so. Is it understanding complicated mathematical computations? Is it one's vocabulary? Or musical expertise? I'm not sure, actually, I think [d]-all of the above. Intelligence isn't about getting all the answers right, it's about knowing the world around you. Being aware and applying that awareness to further education. I don't get all the answers right in my classes, but Weber did help me to better understand today at least one perspective on Capitalism, at least one different from my beloved Marx-yes, I just said that I love Marx, no, I'm not a communist, but I do appreciate his ideas, anyway... Over the past 5 years of college education I've edited with photoshop, created with illustrator, embraced artistic license, studied human geography, the benefits of sugar, and exercise plans. Took Spanish, Arabic, foreign culture in general, basic Econ-twice, algebra, history, studied with professors, presented in California, even interviewed the families of America. I've dabbled in business and experienced marketing, written music, read a few books. After 5 years, you'd think I'd be done. But honestly, I'm not. 2 more years and that'll make 7 of it all. Am I ashamed? Not so much. A friend told me today that it's no race, and he was right. I like learning. I may not have all the answers, but I do understand and appreciate a little bit of everything and can't wait to taste a little bit more.

Coconut Lime Verbana

So I bought a new wallflower scent-Coconut Lime Verbana.  I love it because it reminds me of last summer, when we had the same scent in our room, me and Deb.  Yogurt Apricot & Almond Dial body wash reminds me of summer too.  It's so close I can smell it!  This week will be insane, I haven't made my study plan yet, but it'll be good.  Life is good.

March

Sometimes at 1:30 in the morning, after reviewing all the Pepsi ads ever made, and double-checking that you're still cool with your best friend, Muriel, you decide to write something while listening to piano suites by Billy Joel--I love that man. First off, it's March, which I think is an important enough topic as any. It was so sunny today, and I turned on some Juanes, Nelly Furtado, Shakira, Miguel Bose, it always reminds me of sunshine and summer, particularly walking the sidewalk from the Spanish class I took with Kristen West and Señor Vidal Martín from Spain. Everett Community College-I love community colleges, but don't get me started on that... I wrote this in my statistics class today: "March meant shoes without socks (totally did that today), anklets, and sunshine. Although it could snow again at any moment, the long wait for spring was finally coming to an end. The semester would be more than half over and our souls closer to my favorite part of the year, when it's sunny and warm, and lazy, and cool. I'd like to live somewhere warm someday..." and then it's just runs into the word 'CLAIM' and 'Research Hypothesis'...below a line drawn to the word: 'Hawaii' of course. Thank you March. I'll love you forever-well, minus the mustaches, please don't guys. eh?

Removing wisdom

Getting your wisdom teeth out is really, no big deal. Getting them out without being asleep? that's no big deal either-promise. Yes guys, it was no big deal, I secretly enjoyed it actually and was thankful that I'm not a squeamish girl either-especially when the dentist said to his assistant, "Scalpel." I was amused actually, and my favorite part was after my headphones had fallen out of my ears and we were on the third tooth. The dentist commented, "the tooth is still attached to some tissue" and the assistant said, "um, she can still hear you" hahaha, oh if I could have giggled at that moment.

If your curiosity is peaked I could explain the procedure to you, but then again, I couldn't feel much, except for those couple of moments that he seemed to be jerking a bit-ick. I did cringe on that last and second to last tooth, they were tricky. The Luxator, apparently is a very useful tool for removing teeth; and I'm pretty positive that he gave me 7 or 8 shots; oh, and wisdom teeth are HUGE. My mouth is finally fairly back to normal and the bleeding has mostly stopped. I watched one drama today set in Ireland, and started a Barbara Streisand film, it was pretty slow though and bored me...Why am I even writing about this?

Brown Dumpster

I saw a dumpster today, it was brown and shaped kind of funny, not exactly like the photo I hope to be able to post with this, that's a stolen piece of work from google.  The shape was unique enough to remind me of those card board, carton, cup holders from fast food restaurants.  Cool right?  I thought so.  It was in the parking lot of the management office for an apartment complex I was working at today-Wymount.  Interesting place to be for sure.  I pointed it out to some friends, who thought I was crazy, but hey it's imagination truly at its best.

Blogging and the point?

      So I was thinking about the purpose of "Pretty much," not to mention its massive list of influenced followers, and suddenly found myself on a mind tangent involving the bus stop, Gina, and the idea of her baking bread.  "Pretty much" after all was a saying directly from the mouth of this un-imaginary friend who's probably spending her day right now in the city I claim as my home...with so many towns having housed me before, but then again, my uncle once told me that "home is where you are" when you're young and adult.  Hmmmm, in any case-back to my point:
      What is the purpose of "Pretty Much"?  Is it a public diary like some blogs?  Poetic thought?  A showcase of photographs?  Though I don't even own a camera, so I guess I'm out of that category.  "Pretty much" then must be an observation of life.  Kind of like a diary then?  Oh, oops.  

      You know I could write about the shapes I see throughout the day, the patterns on the sidewalk, and what they all remind me of.  Now that's creatively unique.  Perfect then- today, "Pretty much" takes a new turn, a stride in time (at least for a week or two), I will observe the patterns and shapes around me and I will write about them.  Psychoanalyze if you like, but I'm positive it really won't mean a thing.    
      And the first observational entry "should" be appearing sometime this evening. 

Artists: souls brave enough to declare what exactly we're all feeling deep down inside throughout various moments of our lives, let that be related to love, trial, hardship, or even the seconds we stop to ponder silently on the magic behind a dewdrop or sunbeam and lack the words to describe, the colors to paint, or the notes to sing.

A second glance at South End

I stepped back into South End Market this evening to grab a Caesar Dressing for this chicken salad? Anyway...I ran into Zach Scholer, then chatted with his dad, and all I have to say is, "Wow." "Wow, wow, wow." They absolutely loved the article, Ray too, he even sent it to a friend of his that writes for a magazine who liked it as well. My point of noting these events though are not to promote the article, "Students excited about South End Market & Spoon It Up"-read it, get excited ;-) no, my real thoughts lie in the delight I find in making new friends, understanding true sincerity, and learning to joy in the success of others.  

I love South End Market and I love the people who've made it possible. I thank them for their support even though the article wasn't officially "published." They were still grateful, full of encouragement, and inspiring. Have they won a loyal fan and customer? Oh sure. Is that just good marketing and business? No way.. I see the family that lies behind South End as a good, honest, hardworking, humble group. They take the advice of others and they apply it. They know that the store's purpose is to serve the people not just them, and I respect that. It's good to see a person fill a need and it's good to be believed in. I can do this, we all can. The sky's the limit my friends! And we're going all the way!  

They've been working so hard at South End, and to see it all come together after understanding how it came to be is really a blessing in disguise, because now, I can joy in that result as I've sort of fallen into the mix. Life is like magic and I love people.

Students excited about South End Market & Spoon It Up

Just this past week, south of the BYU campus and on the corner of 700 East and 820 North, students began to explore the grand opening of brand new grocery and frozen yogurt combination: South End Market and Spoon it Up, a joint venture, owned by Zach Scholer & Ray Landry. The two entrepreneurs, best friends from Las Vegas, looked to off-campus students when it came to deciding their plans for the acquired business space next to J-Dawgs. “Most of this business was designed by college students,” Zach Scholer says. Market research was implemented through Facebook, polls, and talking to people heading up to campus. “We heard some students over the summer saying it’d be cool if there was a grocery store over here,” continues Zach. Both explain how it’s continuously been an evolving process; with the original plan including only a grocery store and Subway, a student asked Ray Landry, “Are you guys doin’ frozen yogurt?” and the idea evolved. 

From a South End Market perspective, Zach describes their goal of managing a store that’s 50% grocery and 50% convenience, “a convenient store with grocery store prices,” he says, and essentially their items include just that. From fresh bread and donuts made by the Provo Bakery, to essentials like milk, butter, and eggs, they even carry produce, household basics, and of course, candy bars. Asked about competition from the Creamery on Ninth, Zach responds, “We’d love to be as popular as the Creamery,” putting emphasis on their desire to be more of a compliment to them than competition, “we’re not here to compete,” he says. Both Zach and Ray stress that South End Market is a store especially for students without cars who need to buy groceries or pick up something quick at low prices, and their goal is to keep those prices comparable to Macy’s. Besides your grocery basics though, South End Market has a lot more to offer with both a deli and Subway counter and of course frozen yogurt from Spoon It Up in the back.

A second location opening soon at the Plum Tree Center on University Parkway, Spoon It Up is not just another frozen yogurt place as Ray Landry lists off it’s many features including 24 flavors, free wi-fi, flat screen tvs, and high quality yogurt. “We’ve got one of, if not the best product out there,” he says, not to mention his great enthusiasm for the tons of upcoming events, and discounts he further describes. Zach adds, “We’re coming up with new, innovative ways to serve frozen yogurt that are going to blow people away,” as Ray drops an addition of Belgian waffles? Well, you’ll just have to stop by to check that out soon. Being one of the only frozen yogurt places just south of campus, Zach and Ray have a lot of faith and enthusiasm for the future of Spoon It Up too.

So what do students think of South End Market and Spoon It Up? “I love it! It’s so close, it’s a walk away!” exclaims Jake Hyer. Trevor Rivera, amazed, states, “Some of the produce was cheaper, which really surprised me. Even their cereal was the same price like you’d pay at Walmart.” Mo Lee finds it to be “really clean and the price is reasonable.” “The people are way nice, says Kara Grenfell, “everyone who works there is way into helping out and making sure your shopping is going well.” Even a student who’s yet to shop, Corinne Olsen, is already impressed: “I hear their customer service is really great, my friends went down there this past week and decided that they’ll go to that subway before the Cougareat.” Chris Rostrom’s first impressions of Spoon It Up left him anticipating, “I think it’s gonna be a better deal, they’re trying to make it into a place where people wanna hang out, so it might just be kinda a fun place to be.” Anna Woods ate at Spoon It Up for a second time last night: “…it was really good, they have a lot of interesting flavors that not a lot of places have.”

The future looks pretty bright for South End Market and Spoon It Up, and Zach and Ray will be working hard to support that forecast. With still open ears to the ideas and opinions of students all around Provo, Zach and Ray will continue to develop and improve their business of providing low-priced groceries and quality frozen yogurt to South End off-campus students, and the best part is, in the words of student, Daniel De Gaston, “It’s so flippin’ convenient!”

A Moment Out of The Comfort Zone

I opened the door to the grocery store and stood by the 'grab and go' salads, waiting to speak with the cashier. He hadn't got around to talking with the owners, but called to his Auntie and explained my objective. She welcomed me warmly and proceeded to introduce me to her husband, a tallish man with gray hair and a stony face.

He was not an unpleasant person, but certainly a contrast. Formal and to the point, but impressive. Someone you wouldn't trifle with, and perhaps instead, a well sought ally. The sir agreed to the plan and referred me to an excited associate, who proceeded to write down numbers with a fancy pen on a typical sticky note.

Muriel and I sat with complimentary frozen yogurt, considering the moment. Creme Brulee flavored was well recommended and likewise received. I assuredly give a thumbs up to the latter establishment. And so went the evening. I'm scared to death, but that often comes right before good things.

Gerald: my guitar.

So I played my guitar, Gerald, tonight, and I played my guitar, Gerald, last night. A famous musician played him too. My best friends play him. Little kids pick at the strings and bang on his neck. He doesn't mind, he loves kids.

I don't really like the name Gerald, but I figured, since that's been his name for so long now, it must stay. He likes it, it reminds him of the kid on 'Hey Arnold'. Sometimes I get bored with Gerald, and start thinking about a nice Taylor or Takamine guitar. A 12-string, or even a cheap classical-just for a new sound. But then someone else plays Gerald, and they admire his deep tone and bright smile. He's a good guitar, and I'm glad that the red pick guard first drew me to him. We've been friends for almost 7 1/2 years now. Imagine: just $100 could buy you a great friend.

I played Gerald in an acoustic jam session tonight, with a bunch of pretty sweet musicians. We sang together and shared capos. I love it when creativity unites. I love that I'm listening to "This One's For Andrew" right now, by The Electric Fuzz & The Robot Army. I love that I know Andrew, and the musicians behind that song. I love my life. I love art and music. I love the mind, and I love the soul. I love that I can write this, and I love that Bear is sitting beside me as I do so.

Gerald and I will never stop being friends. I'll keep writing music, and Gerald will keep holding the strings, in-spite of his habit of a much-too-high action.

I love being. 

a fighting chance

But they tell me that love is for the bold, and so we must love whole-heartedly and fight for future relentlessly until the battle is won. Because the weakhearted never seem to achieve much, and I want the world.

Exciting

Thursday, January 14th, 2010. What's the most exciting thing to happen today? Well, that all depends on your perspective. Some might say, "Why it's the uniting of The Miss Cheryl Slack and Mr. Landon Ford;" while others may turn their heads toward the blue skies and overflowing sunlight. Maybe it's how some people's Thursdays are others' Fridays...and then how Friday has a lot of neat plans all related to the weekend, and a big city--not so big as others I've known, but still a pretty good substitute. I was in Salt Lake a few days ago and decided that I'm just beginning to understand it's beauty and the mysteries of metropolis. I don't know. However one defines anything depends on their perspective and experiences really. I mean, if you were a dog, you'd love the scent of beef, but then again, I'm a human, and I still love the scent of beef...bad analogy, but you get what I mean? Right? Of course you do.

Someday I'd like to become a surfer. Maybe I'd have a lime green wet suit to go with it, cause, not everyone else does...Wind surfing, now that's more like it. I saw a group of wind-surfers this summer off of Jetty Island, near Everett, WA. They were pretty sweet looking. Someday, I will meet them all, and we will surf together. My brother's a surfer, and this I envy slightly. But he's pretty cool, so I guess it's ok.

As far as the-most-exciting-thing-to-happen-today goes, that's all yet to be discovered. I could wake up and find myself in Asia tomorrow morning, and that would be pretty exciting. I'll leave it all to chance and then review/process any events that occur within the next 13 hours.

Dear Arthur,

baby carrots don't really grow that way, they're just cut up from bigger carrots!!

Wow,
Alex

ps: http://arthurandalex.blogspot.com/

One Last Look at a Genius

I saw a man the other night; a gray haired, black man in a collar-less suit and he played jazz piano for bread and butter. Of course that may be an understatement, since we are talking about Ahmad Jamal, a graceful 80 year-old classic musician admired and respected by none other than legendary trumpet player, Miles Davis, along with several others (courtesy of wikipedia); and I heard him in a quartet just 17 hours ago. It was incredible.

The first set included a few experimental tunes, that caught my ear, though I enjoyed the second set more, with an increase in upbeat rhythm and swing. I wanted to get up and dance, but unfortunately my self-consciousness stopped me. The most interesting lesson of the evening though, was found in observing the man, this ancient musician, who may pass away within the next ten years or so.

He was so elegant, calm, and relaxed. I liked how he always took time to introduce the other musicians and then ended the line with "and me," in a sort of comic yet, personal or intimate way. We weren't at an Ahmad Jamal concert, Ahmad Jamal was playing in our living room after dinner.

Following the performance, the patrons gathered in the foyer where they purchased albums and waited for the artist to sign. I was in a group of friends when Ahmad walked through the crowd and sat down at a table, ready to begin. I would have liked to talk with him, to shake his hand, and discuss music. I felt like I easily could have, if it weren't for the line. I imagine that he would have listened to me, and he would have mentored me. Mr. Jamal seemed like a character who understood the meaning and importance of legacy, and I'd like to think that he would eagerly pass on any wisdom through youth. True, I'm no uprising jazz musician, but somehow that idea struck me, and I felt it to be true.

Ahmad Jamal, in his elegance and grace, signed those CDs that night for the people. It was all too regular for him by his mannerisms, yet despite the normalcy, he seemed to enjoy it, and was cool. Music is what he did, does, and he loves it. He didn't seem prideful either, just accepting of the role he'd chosen in life, and was happy with it.

Unfortunately we didn't stay to meet him, but we did cut through the crowd on our way to the door. I turned my head for a final glance, one last look at a genius.

Old Shoes

Come thou Fount, is one of my favorite hymns.  I can't wait until it's put back into the hymnal someday, not that I have any special knowledge that it will be, but you never know.  I saw a rip in my sunday shoes this morning.  A sad little tear across the side of the toe.  I was sort of sad, because that meant I had to buy new ones, but glad because then I would get some new ones.  Then I thought about the Christmas of my Freshman year.  I had bought the shoes with my mom from a Target store.  Our family was smaller then.  Next I recall an old boyfriend commenting on the shoes, saying that he liked them, and that they must have been from Target, being the Mossimo brand.  That was several years ago.  He loved shoes.  I like shoes, especially colorful ones.  I also love grilled cheese sandwiches.

Oatmeal

I'm eating oatmeal because it's good for me, and while doing so, I think about my undying optimistic outlook on life.  I can't help it, that's who I am, and "that's how I roll" as someone once put it.  Optimism is what keeps me alive.  When everything topples over, when the rain dribbles down that hole in the ceiling and onto my head, optimism is what gives me hope, and I suppose that's a kind of faith too--faith in God that it's all gonna be good no matter what.  It always has, and I've never regretted a trial.  Never.

So I'll put on my yellow converse, and wrap myself in a blue peacoat.  I'll grab a bag of pretzels and I'll walk to work.  I'll put in my 20 hours and I'll feel good, because tomorrow is so unpredictable and I like the spontaneity of it all.  Life is good.  Call it my motto, but it keeps me alive, and going.  God is good.

On air travel: 010310

Iconoculture and Anderson Cooper; two unrelated names from an airplane magazine, both related to career fields of interest to me. The airport was extremely empty this evening and the security officer said that I looked confused. I replied with, "oh no, I've just never been in the airport when it's this empty before"--when in reality, I really just wanted to know how the 'Gate' sign could possible read A, B, C, & S...I mean S doesn't even come after C? so why not put it with D, E, F?...but then I learned that this meant South Satellite or something when I took the little subway train.

My lack of car has led me to experience frequent travel by air and the complementary beverages have caused me to choose orange juice or ginger-ale as future habitual airline drinks of choice from now on. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because I like them; and a Thank You!--I shout out to the person who proposed some other snack besides peanuts--probably an allergic. The plane rustles with the opening of cookie and pretzel bags, while I enjoy a cinnamon carbohydrate myself. I have this red purse that sits beside me, as the window seat, 9a, must not have been sold this evening.

I'm not sure why that red bag has decided to go on living, the hand-sewing needle repaired straps holding on for dear life, but it does, and so I carry it whenever I want to appear more feminine. It's huge and just screams "fill me" with its pockets and snaps. As of now it harbors:
-my cell phone
-ipod
-mittens
-Alice in Wonderland
-pens
-a notebook
-lotion
-marking crayons
-a wallet
-coin purse and the timeworn leather billfold of my grandmother. I like it because it reminds me of her.
Then of course you'll find some keys, lipstick, headphones, etc. I love that purse, and perhaps my next one will be red too.

The orange juice is almost gone now, and I know we're getting close. I adore flying.