Lewis, MacPhee, My Characters, and Me!

"I've decided to have an amusing canny Scot as one of my characters and, whatever happens to him, an amusing canny Scot he will jolly well go on being - and like it!"

This afternoon, I finished The Dark Tower, which is a posthumous collection of unfinished short stories by C.S. Lewis. (My favourite author- if you haven't guess by the gazillion times I've quoted or mentioned him.) Now, after most of the pieces, there was a slight commentary by his biographer, and on one of them, there was the note written by Lewis' friend, Rodger Lancellyn Green. (Somehow I missed that RLG was part of the Inklings! Gah! I've loved RLG for ages!)

Anyways, after "The Dark Tower", which was the longest bit of story, the notes were longer than the others. For those who don't know, TDT was written to be part of the Space Trilogy- which wasn't to have been a trilogy. I think it was something of a cycle. (Although none of the books were written with the intention of being followed.) TDT would have come either before Perelandra or That Hideous Strength, I'm not exactly certain which, most likely the former. And one of the main characters, as far as Lewis wrote the story, was MacPhee.

I loved MacPhee as soon as I read about him in That Hideous Strength. Maybe it's his sarcastic, Scottish stoicism, mixed with his determination to be skeptical about everything, even if the most die-hard of disbelievers had long since admitted defeat. So, naturally, I very much enjoyed The Dark Tower. Anyways... I ramble.

Owen Barfield, a close friend of Lewis', told Walter Hooper (the biographer) that Lewis had turned to him one day, saying he'd invented a character and just needed to put him in a story. The first place he stuck him was The Dark Tower. Then, when he gave up writing that, he put him in That Hideous Strength. The best bit, for those who've read the last one, is that he's the same character. Not a bit different for being in another story. And that's when he gave Lewis' quote on MacPhee, which I put at the beginning of this post.

It took every bit of me to not giggle in the library when I read that. So often, I'll find myself thinking of a character, and just wanting to use him, with no definite plans as to his purpose, or even what sort of story to stick him in. And, it made me think of Jhaniel- I'm sure she'd have loved this book. (Jhaniel, if that's not enough incentive for you, there's a snippet that he wrote about a story related to Troy. It made me laugh several times... )

Someday, when asked why I write in characters that may or may not have impacted the story greatly, I'm just going to quote Lewis. And my characters will like it!

A Few Photos Of Ash

Initial mushroom cloud.

The cloud is starting to spread.

Yes... that's ash. Before it starting falling.

I want summer!

It's March... there is still snow on the ground. It's slowly getting warm- but not fast enough! I want green grass and warm temperatures and flowers and... the list goes on. I'd even been glad for fireweed right now...

Jubilation

So, I'm currently in a state of jubilation. No, I'm not getting published. No, this isn't an early April Fool's Day joke.

Yesterday, I recieved a packet in the mail from HC. I was accepted to the Honours' London Programme (the one I really really wanted. The one that made me really want to apply...) and got a nice scholarship to boot. So, that scholarship, added to various grants and a loan equaled out to a financial aid package of about 25,000 dollars. Yep. I feared it would be a lot lower, so I'm very happy!
The overall price for HC is 31,000; so I have about six thousand more to come up with. But I already have about two thousand, and can hopefully earn the other four over spring and summer. (Plus, there's the option of a church grant. Dear Lord, please!!!)
This means I'll be able to afford to go to university. I've been dreading that I wouldn't get enough financial aid and thus wouldn't be able to go anywhere. But God has given me this opportunity, and I'm going for it!
So, since then, I've spent a lot of time emailing professors and my councilour. (Is it a sad statement that I'm on her speed-dial?) Then, I'm on the school's website, researching classes, dorms, what to bring, what to expect at classes, weather reports (hey, I've got to know what clothes to bring!) and everything else I can think of.
Oh, and I'm pretty sure no one at HC will blink an eye at the appearance of a purple-loving hippie-clothed blonde-elf girl from Alaska. Right? Even if she skips everywhere and has at least two notebooks and eighteen pens with her everywhere she goes?
Yeah... I'm happy, and I'm ready to study!!!

Classics, Books, and the Homeschooled Monster

I went to the library on Monday before some training, because I was going to pick up two books that had been suggested to me. One was Animal Farm and the other was Name of the Wind. Now, one was suggested by Mum, and the other by an old friend of mine. Just to show my mastery of the theory of multiplication, I went in for two books. And came out with four. Yeah- multiplication only makes sense to me with books. Go figure.
Well, as you know, I read Animal Farm on Tuesday, and so, on my way back to night two of training, I stopped by the library again and dropped it off and spent a little time there looking up more books for me to read or study. Well, the librarian just looked at me, "Oh, you figured you didn't have enough time to read this?"
"Oh, no! I finished it. It's very short and easy."
"But, this is a classic... no one reads classics that fast."
"Um... me and my parents did. And my friends probably could."
The second librarian looked over, "Oh, don't worry about her... she was homeschooled."
Apparently, that was the explanation of my reading. Contented, I looked up a few titles, and located them for future reference. My aforementioned friend's father came in and talked with me for a little bit (and no, I didn't bite anyone's head off for talking in the library, however tempted I may have been...) but he left after a few minutes. As I was wrapping up, and put my notes into my purse, I noticed a little girl was staring at me.
"I heard you at the counter... about books..."
"I'm sorry if I was loud." I apologized.
"No, I was trying to listen. You really read those things... classies?"
"Classics? Yes... why?"
"Homeschoolers are... like monsters, aren't they? They like doing painful stuff... like cramping their heads?"
Jhaniel- you must know how much I wanted to tell her that I was a homeschooled monster. Instead, I was a good person.
"No, honey, I'm not a monster. I'm just as human as you. You can grow up to be really smart and read classics too."
"Naw... I go to public school... non-homeschoolers' heads would just explode." She walked off.
Yeah, I have been mulling over this conversation for the last day. I didn't even tell my parents. At first, I just thought it was very funny. Now, I feel sad, a little girl, who really did seem to like the books she was surrounded by, feeling unable to read anything that was called a classic.
But now that I've written this, and thought about it quite a bit, I just feel more invigorated about my Book-Revolution I proposed about two weeks ago.

A better life...

"Reading out the figures in a shrill, rapid voice, he proved to them in detail that they had more oats, more hay, more turnips than they had had in Jones's day, that they worked shorter hours, that their drinking water was of better quality, that they lived longer, that a larger proportion of their young ones survived infancy, and that they had more straw in their stalls and suffered less from fleas. The animals believed every word of it. Truth to tell, Jones and all he stood for had almost faded out of their memories. They knew tht life nowadays was harsh and bare, that they were often hungry and often cold, and that they were usually working when they were not asleep. But doubtless it had been worse in the old days. They were glad to believe so. Besides, in those days they had been slaves and now they were free, and that made all the difference, as Squealer did not fail to point out."

--George Orwell, The Animal Farm

I read this book this afternoon, it was excellent. I'd highly suggest it to anyone in America right now. And anyone else who wants to see what life could be like in our world.

It Blew!

Well, Redoubt blew last night. And it's cloudy- so I cannot get any photos of it.

But, hey, the long wait is over now... And who knows if the mountain's going to look different when it all calms. I'm going to miss seeing it if she's lost another chunk off the top.

Russian Dervishes!

My brother found this, and I just had to share. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be one of these dancers. (I was the girl in blue, Halleymarie was the green-girl, and our friend Kaylee was the pink...)

A few days late...

... but still funny! Well, if you have a sense of humour similar to mine. I remembered having seen this last year (thanks Jhaniel!) but couldn't find it. Till I decided to clean out my email. (Yeah- I haven't really deleted anything in a year and a half...)

Faith and Action

Christians have often disputed as to whether what leads the Christian home is good actions, or Faith in Christ. I have no right really to speak on such a difficult question, but it does seem to me like asking which blade in a pair of scissors is most necessary. A serious moral effort is the only thing that will bring you to the point where you throw up the sponge. Faith in Christ is the only thing to save you from despair at that point: and out of that Faith in Him good actions must inevitably come. There are two parodies of the truth which different sets of Christians have, in the past, been accused by other Christians of believing: perhaps they may make the truth clearer. One set were accused of saying, 'Good actions are all that matters. The best good action is charity. The best kind of charity is giving money. The best thing to give money to is the Church. So hand us over £10,000 and we will see you through.' The answer to that nonsense, of course, would be that good actions done for that motive, done with the idea that Heaven can be bought, would not be good actions at all, but only commercial speculations. The other set were accused of saying, 'Faith is all that matters. Consequently, if you have faith, it doesn't matter what you do. Sin away, my lad, and have a good time and Christ will see that it makes no difference in the end.' The answer to that nonsense is that, it what you call your 'faith' in Christ does not involve taking the slightest notice of what He says, then it is not Faith at all - not faith or truth in Him, but only intellectual acceptance of some theory about Him.

--C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity


What I've thought for a very long time- aptly put to paper by Lewis. How could I try to say it when he's done such a wonderful job at it?

The Importance Of Taking Time For Tea

"Here (in Pakistan and Afghanistan), we drink three cups of tea to do business; the first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend, and the third, you join our family, and for our family we are prepared to do anything - even die." 

-Haji Ali

--Three Cups of Tea

Yes, I finished the book this evening. I liked it even better than Reading Lolita in Tehran, I suppose, because it dealt with the importance of educating children in rural areas. Although I really did enjoy reading about women who fought for their right to read banned Western Lit too! 

Jhaniel, I know we talked a little about this book on the phone on Sunday, but I think it's a must for you to read. Maybe not your typical read, but it's good. Check your library- I'm almost certain they would have it.

There was so much I wanted to quote from the book, but it would have taken me ages to retype, and there really was no good beginnings or endings unless I wanted to quote pages and pages at one time, so I'll leave you with just one. It's not very important to the story, but it made me smile. (And is short!) 

"The song floated up out of his childhood as it so often did, keeping pace with his steps. "Yesu ni refiki Yangu, Ah kayee Mbinguni" ("What a friend we have in Jesus, He lives in Heaven"), he sang in Swahili, the language they had used in the plain church building, with its distant view of Klilmanjaro, at services every Sunday. The tune was too ingrained for Mortenson to consider the novelty of this moment-an American, lost in Pakistan, singing a German hymn in Swahili."

--Three Cups of Tea

*This is in the very beginning, when he was wandering, half-frozen, lost on the slopes of K-2 in the Karakoram of Pakistan.*

Update from over the weekend...

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day which not even the smoking mountain could ruin. (No, Redoubt hasn't quite blown, but it was smoking and light ash fall occured over here.) I spent the morning at a friend's church, which was very fun, I enjoyed babbling on about books with Mrs. B. When I went back to the Chateau, I turned on my computer, listened to music and read. Perfectly peaceful way to spend my Sunday afternoon. In the evening, I called Jhaniel and we chatted for quite a while before she went to dinner and I watched Cranford again. Well, half of it again. 

Today is colder, and greyer- I cannot quite see the mountain. I've spent a good ammount of time practicing piano and violin, and a lot reading. No surprise there... But once again, I've come to another Vienna Teng song that just reflects my mood. So, here for you all is Lullabye For A Stormy Night. With Bambi. You can't get much better than that. 

It reminds me, for some odd reason, of one night when I was small when Mum told me a story about the fairies dancing outside in the rain so that I'd go to sleep. Mum, do you remember that?

Pi Day!

Well, today was A Day in My Life for March... and I have the very exciting report that I read, played piano and drank tea. All day. 

I was wakened at seven thirty by the dogs, let them out and made a small pot of coffee. After dressing and washing up and feeding the dogs and fishes, I curled up on the couch with two cookies and a cup of tea. Sometime around ten, I got a few calls from friends; and then I went back to reading. At noon, I broke off from my book to play piano for about an hour and a half, then ate some semblence of a lunch and played frisbee with the dogs. 

When I came back in I changed into a summer skirt (my jeans had gotten very snowy after diving after the frisbee) and made even more tea and sat down with my book again.

My parents, taking advantage of the sunny weather, had gone to the beach not far from the Chateau, and so came to visit around four. We had tea and cookies and talked for nearly two hours before they left to go home. Not surprisingly, after they left, I played a little piano and then read.

Maybe half an hour later, I got a call from a friend who was returning to school after "Spring" break, and we chatted for about five or six minutes. At eight, I ate a small dinner, fed the animals, then went upstairs to check my emails and then read more. 

So yes, that would be my oh-so-exciting fourteenth of March: Pi Day. 

Oh how I love drinking very milky tea and reading good ink-scented books...

Mint-Blanket

I've finally remembered to get photos, and load them, so I can show you my green-peppermint blanket!The other day, I finally completed my green blanket project I started on my birthday. I wasn't always working on it, but staying at the Chateau has given me the time I needed to finish it. Originally, I started it as a baby's blanket, but circumstances involving the recepient made me change it to a lap-rug she can use while she reads. I hope she'll like it still!

And here is a close up of the patterning. For those who remember, I made a blue one similar to this last summer.
For some reason, the blue one made me think of evenings in Rivendell, but this one just made me think of green peppermint candy. Maybe because the woman I made it for is so sweet. Anyways... my next project is hopefully a king-sized Shaker-bedspread for my parents!

Oh, and tomorrow is "A Day In My Life"!!! I'll write you late tomorrow, hopefully!

In Shades of Blue

For some reason, today my mind was playing a song to itself as I was reading. It was a blue piece- not "blues" but just something that made me feel something that in my mind is linked with a dusty blue and a strawberry-yogurt pink. At first, I could not quite place the song- it was there until I thought of it and then it disappeared, only to reappear once I'd decided to quite ignore it. 

As I ate my ham-and-cheese sandwich of a noon-snack, I flipped open my lap-top and went to check on Jhaniel's blog. And what do you know, the song which was haunting me began playing. Finally, I verified the name; fittingly, it was called Blue Caravan. I knew now why it was in my mind- Andromanche had written about it on her blog a while back and I'd reread that post last night and listened to the song before going to bed. 

The song enchanted me, and I replayed it a few times. For reasons that do not even seem to fit to my own mind, the song begged to be paired with Reading Lolita in Tehran. So I curled up with the book and finished it. The book also made me think of that same shade of dusty-blue, a sort that longs to be bright and sunny, but has been forced into a paler shade. A colour that has been cheated of its' desire and made all the more beautiful for that. (Oddly enough, the shirt I decided on wearing today is very nearly the exact colour I'm thinking of.) 

My mind argued that I was being unreasonable to link the song and book together- they had nothing in common. Except that blue feeling. But finally, I realised why I had joined the two.

In the song, Teng sings these lines:

"For my true love is a man,

Who never existed at all.

Oh, he was a beautiful fiction

I invented to keep out the cold.

But now, my blue, blue caravan,

I can feel my heart growing old."

And I thought of how in the book, Nafisi wrote about how during the Thursday meetings, the girls talked about how this was their life they created- their fiction. Also, one of them mentioned how the characters of fiction were the only real ones to have existed; their lives were more fictional than those in the books they read. For after all, they would die and become forgotten, and no one has yet forgotten Elizabeth Bennet. She is real. She endures. 

My blue-day has been shaded by these thoughts of reality and fiction, by thoughts of half-articulated desires and partially realised dreams. Through writing the book, Nafisi has made the girls she taught to become real. They have a life- in her book. They have moved beyond that dusty-blue into the sky-blue they thought that they could never have. They have been moved from reality's fiction into fiction's reality- and no one, not even Khomeini, can destroy them now. 

Sorry for the ramblings, but I just had to get my blue-thoughts written down somewhere. And now, to make up for that, I'll leave you with a video of Vienna Teng singing Blue Caravan. 

Behold, Behold Your King!

No tramp of soldiers' marching feet

With banners and with drums,

No sound of music's martial beat:

"The King of Glory Comes!"

To gree what pomp of kingly pride

No bells in triumph ring,

No city gates swing open wide:

"Behold, behold your King!"

And yet He comes. The children cheer,

With palms HIs path is strown.

With ev'ry step the cross draws near:

The King of glory's thone.

Astride a colt He passes by

As loud hosannas ring,

Or else the very stones would cry

"Behold, behold your King!"

What fading flow'rs His road adorn,

The palms, how soon laid down!

No bloom or leaf, but only thorn

The King of glory's crown.

The soldiers mock, the rabble cry

The streets with tumult ring, 

As Pilate to the mob replies,

"Behold, behold your King!"

Now He who bore for mortals' sake

The cross and all its pains

And chose a servant's form to take,

The King of glory reigns.

Hosanna to the Savior's name

Till heaven's rafters ringm,

And all the ransomed host proclaim

"Behold, behold your King!"

-- Timothy Dudley-Smith (1926)

Reestablishing Meaningful Contact

Yesterday, I met with Halleymarie at our favourite coffeeshop, as she is leaving Alaska for a while, and we've been meaning to have this coffee for nearly three months now. It was wonderful to spend two hours just talking with her, going over similar struggles, hopes and dreams that neither of us talk about often. While we were there, her cousin ran into us, and remarked how it was nice to see us and reminded Halleymarie that she needed to reply to her on myspace, and then complimented me on all the Oliver pictures on my facebook. 

After the cousin left, Halleymarie and I started talking about the decline in meaningful contact, even as sites like facebook and myspace continue to flourish. Both of us feel like there are those around us whom we've become strangers to, and friends who have gone to college that have lost touch, even though we are "internet-connected." 

This energized me to go back to the Chateau and write some letters. Of course, I've been watching Cranford quite a bit recently, so I'm afraid the letters came out rather novel-like, but that's always a good thing, right? She and I agreed (oh Lord! this is going to be harder than I thought) that everyone time we feel like we haven't talked to someone in a while, or we are missing them, etc, we have to write them a letter or invite them for a coffee or something. 

This morning, I took the letters to the post office, and decided to walk them in. Well, I was singled out for questioning, and then this one grumpy old man just looked at me: "You idealistic Jane Austens and Bronte sisters can't bring back the old days. Go text like everyone else." 

I don't know if he knew that his statement only encouraged me to want to write letters more. Of course, I wished I could add it to the letter I was sending to Robin, but I suppose she'll just read about it here. 

~Linden

P.S. When I got back to the Chateau, I found that Robin's started a new blog. I cannot wait to see more posts! Finally something to do with my hair!

Photos from Satuday

On Saturday, the sun was shining brilliantly, and the area around The Chateau (Tammy's place, as I have dubbed it...) is gorgeous, and has a beach nearby with an excellent view of Redoubt. Yes, this is where I met Christopher Lee last autumn and missed him. The ice-floes caught my eye, so I was taking a picture of them when I realized that this would be a good time to photograph Redoubt as well.

Here it is again, the mountain in all it's icy splendour! The ice floes are the surface of the inlet as you get towards the beach. Of course, further out, the surface isn't frozen, but since it's been fairly cold, there is a lot of ice right now.

And this was when I was at the coffee-shop, blogging, writing and drinking coffee. Bliss? Of course! Oh, and that's another picture of Logan/Oliver, the gummy-worm boy. Yes, I miss him so much I put him as my background.

What we need is a book revolution

Yesterday, I went home to the Manor for a while, to teach and visit with my parents. While there, I grabbed some movies that I plan on watching sometime. Of course, I took Master and Commander, which is a great movie that I watch whenever I leave home; but this time, I took about eight other movies, one of them being Les Miserables. I'm actually re-reading that book right now, so I chose to watch it last night when I got back to The Chateau. When it was over, I started reading again, but fell asleep with book in hand.

This morning, I spent a while knitting, and reading. But the memory of a certain passage was nudging my thoughts about, and so I decided to post it on my desk. Of course, I'll share the bit that I found most thought provoking here too...

In the evening before going to bed he said further: “Have no fear of robbers or murderers. Such dangers are without, and are but petty. We should fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers, vices are the real murderers. The great dangers are within us. What matters it what threatens our heads or our purses? Let us think only of what threatens our souls.”

Then turning to his sister: “My sister, a priest should never take any precaution against a neighbor. What his neighbor does, God permits. Let us confine ourselves to prayer to God when we think that danger hangs over us. Let us beseech him, not for ourselves, but that our brother may not fall into crime on our account.”

--Victor Hugo, Les Miserables--

I went into Slow-Town for coffee at about noon, and wrote there for nearly two hours. (Yes, Andro, on your story.) A complete stranger and I got into a discussion on the importance of books and word-knowledge while I was there.

She looked around, and seemed like she was confessing something very serious when she leaned over the table and quietly said, "See, I'm a literature major, and the last time I went home to visit my family, I was treated really awkwardly. All because I brought a copy of The Three Musketeers home with me. My parents have really no books in the house, my eight year old sister can barely read. She struggles to spell her full name. She can barely write anything because all she needs to do at school is computer-based, according to my parents. I feel like we have to start a revolution: one for reading and writing's sake. For the sake of children's brains." This woman looked so sad, and the idea of an eight-year-old unable to write her name was so pathetic, I sighed and looked at my notebook.

"What can we do, though, to change these children?" I asked.

"I don't know... the only thing I know of... is to raise your own children without using computers for every little thing. To read books to them. Take them to the library."

We talked a little further, but not too much, as she had to leave not long after. Talking with her made me realize how wonderful it really is that my parents raised me in a world surrounded by books. And they expected me to learn how to write, not just peck out letters on a computer-keyboard.

Perhaps my coffee-conversationist was right. We need a book revolution. Return to paper (Kindle's are annoying anyways!) and writing things by hand. That's one reason I love letters. So... I don't know, maybe I'm rambling, but I want to stand up and fight everything going electronic. I want to fight for books.

"Who will join in our crusade - who will be strong and fight with me!" Yes, I had to get one more Les Mis reference in.

"Lethal Weapon"

This section from Reading Lolita In Tehran has been tugging at the back of my mind since I read it a few days ago. In one instance it is pathetic and ridiculous, yet in another it is heart-breaking as I realise the insane reality of life in the Islamic Republic of Iran.

"Nima tells me we don't understand the difficulty men face here," said Manna with a hint of sarcasm. "They too don't know how to act. Sometimes they act like macho bullies because they feel vulnerable."

"Well, that's to an extent true," I said. "After all, it takes two to create a relationship, and when you make half the population invisible, the other half suffers as well."

"Can you imagine the kind of man who'd get sexually provoked just by looking at a strand of my hair?" said Nassrin. "Someone who goes crazy at the sight of a woman's toe. . .wow!" she contined, "My toe is a lethal weapon!"

--Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran

This is the book that made my mother think about streaking her hair with pink. And yes, I am planning on purple hair sometime, and is one of the reasons why I like wearing very bright, somewhat unusual clothes and large dangly earrings. Because I am free- because I can choose how to look. Because I do not have to be invisible.
Because I do not have to meet in secret, with fear of imprisonment or death, just so that I may talk about Mark Twain and Chesterton. Freedom is one of the most wonderful gifts in the world, a gift that is a right. A right that is ignored and taken away from people daily all around the world. A right that is being taken away slowly in America now.
I only pray that somehow, my reading, my Faith, my writing, can by my lethal weapon. Just in case- I have my pink socks.

Cloud-Castles

So, for those who know me, it's well-known that I love musicals. And yes, Les Mis is amazing. After talking about it a lot at Oliver rehearsals, I was really dying to get my hands on a CD set with all the music.
Of course, looking at the prices made me choke, and I talked myself out of that. Still, I couldn't help wanting it.
While looking over the sizable CD collection here at The Chateau, I found a treasure. Yes- the complete recording of the London cast (the one with Colm Wilkinson!) of Les Miserables. Me - happy? Yes!
I've been listening to quite the shuffle of music today, but I keep on returning to Lis Mis. Of course, one of my favourite songs is the Confrontation, followed by the justly famous "Do You Hear The People Sing." However, I have discovered a new favourite along with them... "Castle on a Cloud"...
And if the song weren't sweet enough, just look at how cute Cosette is in that video I've posted.

And Andromanche, just because I love you so much, look at what I found that made me think of you.

My Morning

The house is mostly quiet right now, except I have the Oliver soundtrack playing softly in the background. For some reason, it makes me not miss the play so much. (I know- how sad!) The dogs I'm watching are sleeping, the fishies are fed and I have plenty of time to read and write today.

Yes, I started house sitting yesterday afternoon, which I'll blog about yesterday later sometime. Or I might do it on the other blog, just so it doesn't feel neglected. Tammy forgot a few things, so I was out of the house by almost nine to mail them to her. It's colder here because I'm nearer the Inlet, but I love the view, so I didn't mind my fingers being cold. When I got back from that, my coffee (Kona-brew!) was done and I settled down to read a few blogs and drink the coffee while waiting for a call from HC's Honours Program.That call came at about ten, and it lasted a little over an hour. For all my nervousness, I think it went fairly well. We (me and three Honours Councilors) talked about books, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, the Inklings, history, art, music, philosophies that shaped Western Civilization, Linguistics, Philology, London, the Middle East, Islam and soccer.

After that was finished, Mum and I talked for about five minutes, and I wrote to a few friends via facebook.I'm enjoying myself, and will probably get off the computer in a few minutes, make myself more coffee and settle down with either "Reading Lolita in Tehran" or "Les Miserables". Fun!

Or... I could just watch Oliver... Tammy has a copy of it downstairs...

Home Again

So, now I'm home. No Oliver rehearsals to run to. No performances to think about. No kids to give gummies to, or to sing with, or dance with, or - you know - just play older sister/auntie to. 

I'm kinda glad that it's over, to not have to worry about all the music and entrances and such. But I'm missing it already. 

I started filing all the pictures today, laughing over memories, over videos (Sykes is an impromtu-artist, or so it seems), and over gummies. 

Of course, I don't get much of a break, since my conductor (Gummies and Spam!) is leaving for three weeks to go to AZ with her family and I'm house-sitting for them - all starting tomorrow. I'm planning on still job-hunting while I'm there (yes, Mum, I check almost every morning!) and getting some books read. Or re-read. 

There is so much I want to say about Oliver, so many pictures I want to share... but how can I really tell everything that means something to me on here? I cannot. I am going to make a Picasa file of all the Oliver pictures that turned out well, and I may even get a youtube account to share some of the videos, but even then, no one but the Performers will actually really know what it was like for those two and a half weeks that we pretty much lived at the high-school. I'm not going to recapture the look on our Oliver's face that first performance (no camera could do it justice). I can't explain the feeling of happiness over the good show, but sadness over it being over, that Oliver and I shared as we sang a parting song over my violin. 

But I'm home again, and I'm resting, regathering. Getting ready to go again tomorrow!