Gray's Locket

2012-01-13T04:46:00.001-08:00

A couple seconds into a Spanish conversation with a 14yo kid with a skateboard:

Jojo: You--look---beautiful.
Me: You speak English, too?
Jojo: ¿Qué?
Me: No importa..... (I think it was the only thing he knew how to say in English.....)

Alive [this time]

2011-12-20T23:23:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not dead or even suddenly and inexplicably illiterate. I'm just insanely, INSANELY busy with preparations for a kazillion different things.

But I love you all.

So tootlepip for now! I'll pop around whenever I can!

Stay epic,

Grace

"Disappeared!"

2011-12-18T15:58:00.000-08:00

So obsessed with Charlotte Gray.

2011-12-12T12:20:00.000-08:00

We are lonesome animals. We spend all of our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say-and to feel- ‘Yes, that is the way it is, or at least that is the way I feel it.’ You’re not as alone as you thought. —John Steinbeck

2011-12-10T23:19:00.000-08:00

I do dare to live a life of extravagant happiness. I will love so fiercely, live so much gladness, that everyone will think that it isn’t fair.
But I will cherish this happiness, and not guilt myself into giving it up because other people don’t have it. No, instead I will find ways to make that happiness for other people, pouring it into every corner that I visit, fearlessly showing my loved ones that I care, allowing my sympathies to be stricken into helping my fellow men with everything inside of me.
But I will not give up my high ground, and sink into despondency. The world needs a higher ratio of happiness to depression, and I will be among the happy. Just my very joyful presence will lighten the load of the overburdened, terrible, broken world.
I do dare to live a life of extravagant happiness."

2011-12-10T16:34:00.001-08:00

In seven words, why do you write stories?

I can't do it in seven! I have to have eight/nine.

[To] Awaken the spirit of exploration inside each man.

What's your answer?

2011-12-09T23:26:00.001-08:00

Freddy Hillfinger Wetson and the Cave Mites

2011-11-18T13:45:00.000-08:00

Saturday's project: the companion video to "When Bats Grow Springy."

Basic Barre Chord Shapes: guitar chart turns medieval?

2011-11-18T12:10:00.000-08:00

I was going to write a song for you yesterday, but our printer stopped working when I tried to print a barre chord chart.

I got kind of distracted copying the chart out by hand. Distracted as in, involved with metallic embossing pens and medieval illuminations.

The Haircut

2011-11-18T11:57:00.000-08:00

This project is actually from a while back, but I've put off posting it as long as I could.

I gave myself a haircut.

Correction-- I gave myself a mullet.

I was trying to punk my hair without going short. It.... worked?

BUT give me some points here. I was watching the insanely awesome movie Charlotte Grey WHILE I worked on this project.... and the whole time, I kept wishing I was giving myself a 40s long bob, which would now be impossible with my choppy layers.

Old man rockstar mullet haircuts + insanely awesome historical drama films = Grace is unhappy with her haircut.

Buuuuut it's growing on me. I keep adding feathers. I think that peacock ones are next. Mom says it looks like my head is about to fly off my neck. =P

2011-11-18T11:51:00.000-08:00

And because I really couldn't scrape up anything better for Friday, here's a sort of adorable elfpunk maiden whose head is too big and who needs a lot of work. What is it with me and posting unfinished drawings here? Man!

I know. I sound like I'm making excuses.

But I'm super absorbed in elfpunk right now, a genre so underdeveloped that I actually feel like.... I can even be slightly ....original, even while operating within two excessively overused cliches.
[excessively overused cliches... how's that for a redundant clause?]

Anyway, things are swirling around in my brain....

"When Bats Grow Springy"

2011-11-18T11:30:00.000-08:00

[The above image is our album cover, in case you were wondering, created by this awesome person. Yes, you are about to view The Cave Mite's {indeed, that's us} brand-new hit single, "When Bats Grow Springy."]

Here is last Sunday's creation, recorded with a bunch of writers [who happen to be musical] down in Vancouver Washington! Excuse the private-joke-ridden lyrics-- we obviously had way more fun than could practically be considered a healthy dosage.

[Read our pianist's post about the weekend here.]

This song is an ode to our beloved novels, our writing forum, and the springy weekend that seven writers spent together.

We will never forget you.

2011-11-14T09:25:00.000-08:00

Part of learning is ripping yourself open so you can change.
--Hannah

"A pleasing landscape"

2011-11-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

Road trip:

A pleasing landscape, I think to myself as we zip past the symetrical rows of trees coming up perpendicularly from the ground in a straight line across the horizon. Linear perfection in nature. Very pleasing on the eyes.

I don't like my beauty to please me, though. I like it to disturb me and make me catch my breath.

Rugged. I like the beauty and ruggedness of it all to shock me and whirl my soul around, giving me whiplash inside.

Brothers in Arms

2011-11-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

Listen to Ryan Kelly's cover of Brothers in Arms, by Dire Straits
[This was the best sound-quality I could find. I know, it's LotR. Shh... don't tell anyone. I kind of like it.]

And man, I love this song.

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've witnessed your sufferin’
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun's gone to hell
And, the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the star light
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms

2011-11-08T15:25:00.000-08:00

This week has been hard and depressing. I haven't even kept track of the dates for my little creations. Nothing's my best work. Nothing got much time. For a few days, I didn't create anything at all. I didn't have the motivation to do it.

Here are the products of my latest [artistic] struggles. They're pettier than usual.

But I'm going to keep doing this.

2011-11-08T15:01:00.000-08:00

Gabby and Grace strike again. Yes, stuffed apples. Gabs made the stuffing [cream cheese, nuts, cranberries, brown sugar and spices] whilst I carved the apples [cause she's good at mixing and I'm good at.... cutting things? I don't know. I cut myself at one point during this venture, so maybe I flunked. But Gabs is really great to have around because she always cooks yummy things. But just to do myself a little justice, I did all the arranging and cinnamon-spooning.]

This one was too ugly to include with the others, but we took pity on it [actually, I should say that Gabby took pity on it. I was somewhat indifferent to the mushy thing] and gave it a place of its own. Gabs would send her hoard of howler monkeys after me if I didn't post its picture.

Well, voila, I guess.

--Grace

2011-11-08T14:59:00.000-08:00

It's really rough. And I hate his hair. And I need to do some research to figure out what scare tissue actually looks like.

But he's a cool character.

And sorry for the absence of a date. I can't even remember which days I did all these. Man.

Look, I think it's pretty good considering that...

2011-11-08T14:51:00.000-08:00

...I was working with hotdogs.

And in case you were wondering [and I know you were!], there are only three plates because I didn't eat a hotdog [I think I had some oatmeal or something]. The two times I've tried to eat one since that year that I was a vegetarian, I've felt sick afterwards. I don't know if I'll ever have a whole one again.

But hey, the kids are cute!

I tell her to smile and she gives me THAT face. What's up with that? Usually, she's smiling. I promise.

I know, it's not my best work. =P

Lunar/Solar

2011-11-08T14:26:00.000-08:00

Look, anything can be art, okay?

Left hand is the lunar cycle, right hand is the sun and... its rays, I guess. [Right handed = bumpy-nail-polish-sun-rays].

Last week, I just did the lunar cycle on my left hand. It. was. such. a. pain. I'm not joking. I told my friend Gabby, who was my partner in crime [and responsible for owning THE most exasperating nail polish EVER] that I was never going to choose to do something "artistic" with my freepin' fingernails again. First, we discovered that despite being very female and very much longstanding friends, we'd never done anything like paint nails together. Second, Gabs kept laughing because I literally would growl and scream at my nails.

But then I had an idea. I had to represent the sun on my right hand and the moon on my left. The moon is just too symbolic of the left side of one's ...psyche, and it contrasted too perfectly with the sun/right side.

Stupid artistic urges.

So I had to try again. This time, I didn't use Gabs' nasty stuff, so it went I little better. [Yes, I'm glaring at you, Gabby. I am.]

Lunar cycle: first attempt

2011-11-08T14:16:00.000-08:00

Ohhh man, the artistic experience that led to this project was soooo painful [see nrxt entry].

Busy eating, cleaning, checking their email.....

2011-11-07T22:41:00.000-08:00

We're walking to the park.

"Does your mom ever take you to the park when she has time?" I ask my oldest charge [who has proudly lived eight-and-a-half years!].

"Naw," he responds, dragging the toe of his shoe on the sidewalk as he shuffles along. "My whole live, actually, my parents never really've got 'spare time.' They're always busy."

"Really?"

"Yeah!" the second-oldest pipes in [and she is at the grand age of four-years-and-one-month, in case you were wondering]. "'I'm busy.' Busy eating, busy checking their email," [the term checking their email is spoken in a hushed term, as though it has not exactly been determined what the action of checking one's email actually is], busy working or busy cleaning."

'I'm busy': I'm guilty of those two words, to my parents and siblings.

For each offense, was I really busy --that is, performing a pressing duty-- or were their pleas for attention serving as a reminder of what I ought to be busy doing? And thus shoved me on course enough to really get busy?

It seems that I can squander time until someone else asks for some of it, and then whatever I should have been doing appears to be the most urgent matter in the world.

I don't want to fall into the rut --excuse me, I mean lifestyle-- of being 'busy': always having something other to do than pay attention to actual people and live actual life.

There. I've defined the offender and now I cannot commit the crime again unwittingly. I am no longer innocent.

I want to be one of those rare people that is never bored and always working on something, but that doesn't forge a lifestyle occupied entirely by the faux 'busy'-ness.

Have you noticed that kids live to live? You have to tear them away from their play to eat or sleep. They are never ready to flop into bed until they have exhausted and lived up every second of alertness in them.

I refuse to be busy. I vow to live.

2011-11-07T21:02:00.000-08:00

By Pebbled

Reality! Where art thou?

2011-11-06T22:38:00.000-08:00

What we believe is what we believe. Fine. But what actually is still is. I can't decide the truth, I can only discover it. Similarly, when everything is vague and undetermined, it is my job to discover the truth, not decide it.

There is a power in being common.

2011-11-05T21:55:00.000-07:00

I've had my fair share of writing about near-extinct half-blood elves and lost-royalty 'chosen ones.' I've had my fair share of writing dramatic blogger profiles in which I am profoundly unique. Granted, it's been a few years. Over those years, I stumbled upon something that reoriented the way that I view myself.

There is a power in being common.

I'm just guessing here, but from what I see of the world, the inside parts of most people seem to want adventure, love, truth. Gifted artists and gifted minds --when also gifted with commonness-- have the ability to tap into our common themes and form an understanding between men; highlight the shared blood pumping through all of us, intellectual or not, educated or not. I turn on a pop song and [provided it's not about clubbing] more often than not relate to the lyrics, regardless of whether I enjoy the genre [is that why we're so eager to share our music with each other? To find out if the others understand? Is that why I can write, "___ music group understands my life"?]. These are artists, harnessing what we all feel and putting it into words, or music, or colors on a canvas.

A good writer writes the things we've always wished to verbalize but can't. A good musician shares work that sounds familiar to our hearts.

The ability to impact the hearts of scores of mere men--- what more effective power is there?

That was what I stumbled upon. Our very humanity is our common factor. So why did I spend so many early adolescent days pushing for no common factors, when to do so would be to deny what truly makes me the being that I am?

Does a horse try to be different from all other horses? A horse simply is. The horse adds another beautiful presence to the world merely by being a horse.

If I am a wise little writer --no, just a wise person-- I will seek to understand the things that all men share inside of themselves, instead of the things that set them apart from each other. Why was my self-value wrapped up in the ways that I perceive myself differing from other men?

These "unique" traits are excellent identifying markers, but they are not what really matters inside of me. Granted, when you're making your foray into the world of young adulthood, you cling to what you must. That seems like a part of each person's psychological development. You have to be able to see yourself, those figuring-out years.

But I think maybe finally I am ready to stop clinging and face who I really am: that is....

Common.

What if it doesn't matter whether I can see myself in a crowd of people or not, if I understand the heart of the crowd? Now I have the power to move people's hearts, which, for myself, is vastly superior to impressing their brains.

2011-11-04T21:31:00.000-07:00

8/1/11
"Tonight, during our run, we looked at the stars, me resting my hand on his head.

Sarge, don't ever stop coming back. I know and understand that it is not within your nature to stop leaving, but never stop coming back."

8/17/11
"When The Lion and I eat salmon berries [he's an omnivorous lion], the kids join in and pick berries too. Their faces wrinkle up when they pop the berries into their mouths and Milo starts to say that they're sour, but Ava hushes him. They exchange a secret sibling glance, then hurriedly assure me that they love the way the berries taste, just like Gracie.

Ava gets sick of holding The Lion's leash and so it is thrust into my hands. Sarge, willful lion, has actually calmed down. Who would have thought we'd see the day when Sarge calmed down?

He's in heaven now, with all the kids. Ava's the same age I was when he was a puppy. Don't read him wrong, though. He hasn't gone soft. He's as disobedient than ever; he will only listen to Grace and Sophe, and even then, only under limited circumstances.

Sarge, since when are we the big kids?"

Sarge, Sarge, Sarge....

2011-10-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

I really don't know if this counts as something creative, and my version of sewing [replacing buttons on thrifted clothing articles] definitely isn't artistic [although LIB'S version of sewing DEFINITELY is], but this will have to count for today.

Once again, the picture doesn't accurately depict the button below. It's plastic-y with fakey gold paint.
But the tunic itself [or I think it was supposed to be a dress, initially, although I'd never wear it as a dress] is so darn cool and very nautical.

And I happen to have an antique nautical button collection. Some of my buttons are from naval uniforms. I bought a bunch for my fifteenth birthday and I've always loved them, though I have never done anything with them other than keep them in my display case, next to my collections of birds' nests and Native American arrowheads.

Which is what most people would do with an antique nautical button collection, if you know what I mean.

But if I were an antique nautical button, which had in former days proudly been sported on some naval officer's uniform, would I want to spend my days getting dusty in a display case next to birds' nests and arrowheads?

Nooooo sir. I would want to frolic around on the navy-blue tunic of a Hornblower-smitten eighteen-year-old brunette in search of adventures.

So I replaced those plastic gold painted buttons.

And now I can wear this thing without shame.

TADA! [You would not believe how long this took me. Sewing isn't my strong point, but I've been known to sew brother-friends' hats back together for them].

While I sewed, I listened to Sarabeth working on music theory homework in our music/play/schoolroom and we half-hollered a conversation from our respective work places about augmented and diminished chords [about which the only thing I know is pretty much that they sound cool. Sabam is far more knowledgeable, however]. Then she started playing some of this:

I was thoroughly wowed. And then I discovered this, which is also really schweet:

[I love his outfit]

Stay dangerous,

Grace

2011-10-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

Wrote this yesterday. Wish I'd had time for more.

Everyone got frustrated with him because he couldn't pay attention.

It was always, "Dillon, focus please. Do you want to be doing that math
problem all day?" from teachers, "Dillon, honey, I told you to put on a nicer
shirt half-an-hour ago. Now we're going to be late!" from his mother, and
"Yeesh, dude. What's up with you? We're talking about something totally
different!" from other boys his age.

Oh, and, "Son! Concentrate!" from Dad, barked out impatient and
grieved.

Didn't Dillon realize how.... how frustrating he was being?

2011-10-30T12:16:00.000-07:00

From 10/28/11 [It's a pity that graphite only copies into electronic form so well. I need to do this one again on real paper with charcoals]
[It takes over the whole spread of my sketchbook, which results in the unsightly line running through the middle of the landscape. But.... if you know what I mean.... this sketch needs a lot of space.]

[SHOW YOURSELF!]

[what it looks like in my sketch book]

It obviously needs more time. It's not a very skillfully executed project, but the little man shouting at the sky from the top of a mountain is very dear to me.

-Grace

2011-10-29T18:23:00.000-07:00

Soooo

.......on Thursday, I did complete something

.......and it was a poem

.......that I will under no circumstances post on the world wide web.

HOWEVER

On Thursday, I also graduated my CERT [Community Emergency Response Technician] class. And, to make up for the fact that I'm not going to post the aforesaid poem, I'm going to write a humorous poem here and now that is CERT-themed.

.......I'll try to make it as humiliating as possible ....as penance for keeping my personal poem personal.

Before I begin, you have to understand that this is really a joke. Our Emergency Med. instructor was superdeduper awesome. He was an Eastern-Indian paramedic that formerly trained Iraq-bound U.S. soldiers in emergency first-aid. I took the class with Keilah, Libs, Makenna and Ari and he asked us a bit about homeschooling [apparently, his daughter is in a school for gifted students and he thinks homeschooling her might be beneficial. Wowsers], but otherwise, he was absorbed in instructing us in the art of tying cloth bandages so that they apply pressure to the bleeding.

Here you are. Hope you smile. =)

Your name's Max
but you look like a Sam
So everyone calls you wrong

[I think I have a crush on my teacher]

Your beard's awesome
Your accent's sweet
Your arms are.... really strong

[I think I have a crush on my teacher]

Am I eighteen?
Or am I twelve?
You're just so freepin' cool!

[I think I have a crush on my teacher]

And so as I twist the tourniquet
Or perform a blood sweep ...or check a radial pulse
I'm acting like a fool

[I think I have a crush on my teacher]

Hehehee....

2011-10-29T18:21:00.000-07:00

Reignie, I'm euphorically glad you're doing better. Bep, keep it up. My love goes out to strengthen you.

Jammin' in old Issaquah...

2011-10-29T14:55:00.001-07:00

Fast forward to Wednesday [I'm pretty sure that I did something on Tuesday, but I'm also pretty sure that it was lame. I got creative with my orange and blue highlighters when I was critiquing my public speaking students' speeches or something. GONG].... for endeavor no. 2.

Don't you love it when one of your dearest friends calls you up and says, "By some stroke of extraordinary good luck, I don't have classes on Wednesday. Would you like to meet in Issaquah? Yes? What should we do? What? I don't know either. 'Something crazy?' Yes, I couldn't agree more...."

That was sort of Sabam's end of our telephone conversation on Tuesday afternoon or something. And yes, we decided to meet in Issaquah the next morning.

Let's get one thing straight: when I agreed to recite Spanish poetry for Profesora Mommer, I didn't do so with the intention of using the project as one of my "endeavors." In fact, I hadn't even conceived the idea of a creativity resolution.

In the same way, I wasn't expecting that what looked to be a "normal" [as normal as we get, hmm, Sabam?] morning bumming around down-town Issaquah with my chum Problematic would turn into something that I could publish here (the recording on the Spanish-sounding one in A didn't turn out very well, SB, so I'm posting this one).

So, with SB's permission, I'm posting one of the products of our coffee/street musician date.

We also came up with a delightful arrangement of "Scarborough Fair" that was *almost* perfect in the recording.... I'm hoping to record it with her again some time soon, and show it to you as well.

I pretty much failed at setting up the camera; there's nothing really to see other than my nose and Sabam's hand and bow for a few seconds. Oh, and I smile at one point: at the time, I had just thrown a new chord into the mix, Sabam was rolling her eyes at me, and I was grinning mischievously back.

She really does reserve a little extra commendation. I kept tossing in random chords and was altogether no doubt extremely vexing. She still manages to sound pro the whole time. Yeesh.

And we can't forget to acknowledge Ignatius (Sabam's violin) and Matthias (my guitar), the two men in our lives that made our excursion possible. =)

San Gabriel [Sevilla] de Federico García Lorca

2011-10-28T20:27:00.000-07:00

[Yeah, I'm hunching, I know; I don't usually do that when I'm speaking for an audience but the mic stand was too low and it would have been quite noisy to adjust it. The trials of being tall!]

There you have it. This was taken last Monday --the first day of my new resolution-- and was my outpouring of artistry for the day. Earlier in October, one of my old Spanish professors invited me to be among her group of readers reciting the works of Spanish poet Federico García Lorca from his book, "Romancing the Gypsies" (or at least, that's the title in English) for a special performance at my (former) community college. I was very flattered and a little unnerved, considering that I was the only reader who hadn't made my first foray into the Spanish 200 level.

I wish that I could do justice to Spanish poetry. But I can't. Yet.

Our college was especially honored to have Spanish classical guitarist Francesc de Paula Soler playing with us. He was so cool. When I met him, I was so awed that I forgot to say, "Encantada" as I shook his hand.

Quedate peligroso,

Grace

2011-10-27T22:12:00.000-07:00

Just got accepted to the language institute in Spain! España, estoy viniendo! Ridiculously happy!

And yes, I've been working on a new artistic endeavor each day. At the end of the week, I'll post all of them.

I will be an artist every day.

2011-10-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

Some days, I am a friend. Some days, I am a runner. Some days, I am an artist. And yes, some days, I am a blogger.

And the list goes on. Some days, I'm an infectiously joyful person. Some days, I laugh as much as I should. Some days, I remember to smell the scent of adventure in a gust of October wind [October winds do smell like adventure, don't they?].

Don't know about you guys, but I'm sick of being what I want to be only some of the time. Therefore, in one small part of my quest to change this, I am going to issue myself a new challenge.

Actually, I've already issued it and have been living by it for the past week.

Buuuuut let's not get technical-- why do you say? Sound like a good idea? I'll catch you [yes, you, my last few faithful blog-readers] up anyway.

I want to create something new every day. No, that's not quite accurate-- I want to let artistry flow out of my life somehow in a new project every day. Until I [hopefully] go to Spain. In January.

And I am going to subject you, little blog, to this whim of mine. You are going to have to deal with photos and videos and poems and prose and whatever other medium I might dream up with which to positively sweat my creative urges. I'll be perspiring them, I assure you. =)

Are you excited? Because I am! Sixty-six endeavors to produce art in some form! And all posted here!

I AM STOKED!

Stay dangerous,
Grace

2011-10-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

Me: Mom, how do I tell if the salmon is done?

Mom: Google it!

Me: [typing] Hmm... "How to tell if..."

The first google auto-complete search options: "How to tell if a guy likes you, how to tell if a girl likes you, how to tell if an egg is bad, how to tell if a diamond is real..."

Me: [finishing typing on the subject of salmon] Life is so exciting.

I love google. How else would we be able to tell what the rest of the world is thinking about?

Also, how many other people ask google when the salmon is done?

2011-10-21T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sabam, my friend, you have blown me away yet again. I absolutely must direct everyone I know to this exceptional post.

And yes, obviously, I'm reading your blog again. I can't stay away. It's relapse, as predicted.

My mouth feels very....fresh.

2011-10-21T09:33:00.000-07:00

While usually, I gargle hydrogen peroxide twice daily, today, I decided to venture into new mouth-hygiene territory. In the family toothbrush drawer in the bathroom, I found a little bottle that said, 0.63% Stannous Flouride. 0.63%, I thought, That's not very much. So rejecting my beloved, familiar bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide, I decided to give it a try and poured what would amount to a large gulp into my gaping mouth.

The stuff felt sticky and syrupy and... numbing. While I swished, I read the back of the bottle.

Preparation Instructions.....blah blah blah....shake thoroughly....blah blah blah....

....this prepares the recommended 0.1% Stannous Flouride solution.

0.1%? This nearly made me swallow the whole mouthful, which wouldn't have been good, I assure you. I spat into the sink, already conscious that my lips felt numb, and proceeded to wash my mouth out with water for the next five minutes.

Then I returned to my beloved Hydrogen Peroxide and filled my mouth with that.

It felt kind of tingly and fizzy in reaction with the Stannous Flouride.

I hope that's not bad. My mouth did feel super....fresh.

I hated Chemistry.

Welcome to the ominous year of eighteen.

2011-10-18T21:37:00.000-07:00

My dear Luke and Leia Skywalker, happy birthday. May the force be with you. I've been thinking about you all day.

Much love,
your Obi-Wan.

2011-10-18T21:30:00.000-07:00

I understand, Hannah! I really do!

Running at me

2011-10-17T21:10:00.000-07:00

The Book Thief is narrated in first person by the voice of Death. Here is one of my favorite quotes.

"I've seen many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They're running at me."

With that as a preface, go read Nazis and Stormtroopers by Kyle over at A Deeper Darker Ocean Green. Yes, I know that I put up a link to one of his posts in my very last entry, but bear with me; this post deserves a little extra attention.

[and thank you, Sabam, for recommending and lending that book to me. Your new non-knawed-on-by-the-dog-of-the-children-I-nanny copy will be purchased and handed to you shortly.]

2011-10-13T12:21:00.000-07:00

For some reason this post has been stuck in my brain all morning.

Good reading.

España! Estoy veniendo!

2011-10-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

I'm almost done with the application essay, guys. I'm so close.

2011-10-13T12:14:00.000-07:00

"Por qué quieres ir a España?"

"Didn't you just read the essay?"

"Verdad? That's the real reason?"

"Si, pero no es ...complete. I don't know the word. Quiero ver el mundo... y tengo adventuras... y más y más."

2011-10-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

"Tienes un novio?"

"No."

"Ahora?"

"Nunca."

"Por qué?"

"Porque yo no tengo una persona perfecta en mi vida ahora."

::He laughs:: "Pero--- buscas la persona perfecta en Espana?"

"Es una posibilidad."

::He laughs again:: "You figured that one out right away! It didn't take you a second! Smart girl. Prefieres los latinos o los americanos?"

"No es importante. Todos."

"You're something else, Grace. You're something else."

And why is it less awkward in Spanish?

Grace says flow!

2011-10-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

This, leftover-blog-readers, is a picture that Hannah sent me. Hannah is the cutie with the headband, holding a flow pad. Oh, wait. They're all holding flow pads.

Due to my ocean-trip with my parents last weekend, I missed coaching debate of Friday. Via email, I issued my debaters some very strongly articulated instructions to make sure and flow all the rounds. Obviously, they acquiesced, and even took a photo as proof.

I'm rooting for you all! Show those cases off to the world! Wow those Oregon debaters with your prowess in cross-x and your lucid humor in your rebuttals!

You are among the best Lincoln Douglas debaters I have ever seen already. All of you. I wish I could watch these first debut rounds. I'm thinking of you often, my pulchritudinous deb8ers! RAWK ON.

2011-10-13T11:12:00.000-07:00

May I introduce Alexa to you? Her name is on my list of greatly-respected people. Her intelligence, diligence and taste for the excellent might make you enjoy her writings as much as I do. I just wish that everyone could meet the real-deal, the Alexa-from-real-life. Alexa, you're one of the things I miss most about the good old days in speech and debate.

2011-10-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

2011-10-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

So bliddy excited! Thor, I love you. You really should have been nicer to Loki, but I'm glad that you weren't because you're terribly relatable. And you gots great action chops. Stark, man, I'd never date you, but you're really amusing, you know? I was learning to tolerate you, and even think that you were cool, but then Pepper caved in IM2. YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO GET HER YET. She was supposed to hold you in agony for waaaay longer than that. Thus, I'm frustrated with the both of you. HOWEVER, she is the CEO of your company now. So there. I see that there were no Pepper clips. Sad, but not unexpected [sniff!]. I didn't think that Gwyneth Paltrow would endure another superhero movie anyway. Captain America, I don't even know what your other name is because I haven't seen your movie, but you're probably awesome. And Scarlet/Black Widow, really? Are you the only girl we get to look at in the whole movie? Because I thought that your character got kind of old in IM2, no offense.

2011-10-12T10:53:00.001-07:00

Interesting....

Charlie and I have way too much fun.

2011-10-11T09:47:00.001-07:00

2011-10-11T09:44:00.000-07:00

What is this? This confusion,
like a blustering of emotions
waging, winding around me,
forcing it’s way through the cracks in my foundation
like unsought opinions.
Is there a reason?
Am I questioning things?
Or am I piling dirt to the smallest of hills?
Shall I create an issue to sooth the frustation?
An outlet, a release?
Or can I find a better end-all
To solve the mysteries my soul uncovers.
I feel dazed in this whispy rain,
puzzled as to the meaning in these very words.
An outpour of dizzying thoughts
that lead down a path of supposed enlightenment
And all I get are hiccups and headaches.

--From Janae at Vague Recollections of a Future Life

2011-10-10T21:23:00.001-07:00

Yeah.

2011-10-10T20:41:00.000-07:00

...

2011-10-10T19:31:00.000-07:00

Why am I wasting time? I obviously need to watch this show before any more of my life goes by.

2011-10-10T19:28:00.000-07:00

Wearing little brother's sweatpants, little brother's socks, little brother's boat shoes [which are awesome guys' shoes, btw. And we know how important guys' shoes are....]. Wowzers. Charlie is growing up.

Charles: "This song is.... wait. Before I keep going, do you like this song?"

Me: "Yes, I love it."

Charles: "Okay, nevermind. I won't finish saying what I was going to say."

Me: "Smart boy."

2011-10-10T10:38:00.000-07:00

Excuse me, my dear Sabam? I agree with every word of this post! Let it be known!

Stay dangerous,
Grace

Been waiting for a dream to seep in through my blinds

2011-10-06T21:28:00.001-07:00

Packing music.

Oceanoceanoceanocean

2011-10-06T20:27:00.001-07:00

Took out my antique nautical button collection, grabbed an anchor button from a one-time navy blue uniform, strung it on a black ribbon, and tied it around my neck as a choker. Also, I'm packing my beach clothes in this ridiculously ugly carpet bag that sticks me right into a historical fiction novel. I'm breaking out "Master and Commander" to read on the road trip down. I have a sore throat and Mom and I have been joking that this trip is to "improve my constitution." Yes, I'll 'fess up. I've been reading Georgette Heyer lately [and not her mysteries]. We sound very Regency English all around the house, and Grace isn't feeling "quite the thing."

The story world is so alive for me right now. I've been sensitized to it these past few weeks, maybe.

And may I say that Oregon coast beaches are the most magnificent in the world? I say that despite my enduring loyalty to Washington. Both are better than East-coast beaches, which are cramped. I've yet to see a tropical beach.

But I don't know if I'll need to, as long as I can play in Oregon waves and stare at an Oregon horizon.

There is an astonishing lack of Hornblowers on Oregon beaches, though. I obviously need to sign up with the British Navy. Or maybe I'll get shanghai'd? That'd be more exciting.

Guess what?

2011-10-05T22:13:00.000-07:00

Canada has their own version of So You Think You Can Dance. I now have four seasons of sytycd Canada to watch.

Wowowow.

Edit: 20 other countries have their own seasons. Mind blown. There isn't enough time in the day to watch dances. Mind blown.

Bring me back to life

2011-10-05T15:40:00.000-07:00

Just about ready to fly.

2011-10-03T09:49:00.001-07:00

And I present to you another poem.

2011-10-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

Some days, I'm a bard:
Wandering from town to town,
Telling my stories to peasants
gathered around red hearths,
Making friends and then
Leaving them behind.

Some days, I'm a princess:
Locked in a tower,
Gazing out on the land,
Filling my thoughts with
Mundane visions.

Some days, I dream dreams:
Of earth; and of heaven;
Of courage; of honor; of
Strength through it all.

Some days, I'm a queen:
Holding court in her palace,
Deigning to hear the
Pleas of her subjects.

Some days, I"m a selki:
Working obediently
For the one who
Denies me my skin.

Some days, I'm a spy
And a sneak and a cheat
And a thief, stealing away
With my hard-earned reward.

Some days, I'm a murderer,
slaying, brutally, my own
Hopes and dreams,
Aspirations and thoughts.

Some days, I'm all of these things.

But today, I am I.
I have no blood on my hands,
No stories to tell,
No dreams to dream.

Today, I exist.
And that is enough.

This piece of art was written by my friend-in-real-life, Sabam, who blogs over at It's Raining. I don't often read her blog, actually, because we try to catch up in person instead. But I was going through SB withdrawel, so I found myself browsing through her blog archives. Yes, relapse. It happens.

SB, this poem encapsulates my life right now. In the middle of a double tragedy, I find that it is impossible for me to emote, that all I have been capable of these past two weeks is being, existing. I didn't know that I could be like this. Every person should read this.

LD Values debate for life:

2011-10-01T14:08:00.000-07:00

AFF case: Grace's life

Love is my value.

Respect is my criterion.

The least I can do....

2011-10-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

"Every time I see a quote, no matter how ridiculous it seems, the very least I can do is treat it with an ounce of respect because at some point someone sat down and wrote that or said that."

Amen to this, from Kyle's blog. I think the influence of respect gets overlooked often. Respect is a heckofa powerful force.

Friend.

2011-09-27T18:53:00.000-07:00

That word is like a fortress to me, although I know that in itself, it can't keep anything out-- or at least, things like betrayal, change, hurt, jealousy. It makes me feel gross inside to think of how many friendships -friendships that had a true, strong, wonderful base layer-- have been marred by other things. It's inevitable, it's life; but it makes me feel sick, like the whole world is unsteady if friendships so solid can change so much. If friendship feels weak, how can anything be strong?

But sometimes I feel something, a pulse of friendship, that really seems that strong: something held up high and far away from the other things that seek to tweak it and touch it. Only then do I feel safe.

Over the last few days, I've had lots of conversations with lots of friends. The conversations have been long or short, but many of my friends have asked me, really asked me, how I'm doing.

They look me in the eye and don't mind if I go on for a little while. For some weird reason, they are interested in me and my rambling thoughts. They don't just think that I'm nice on the eyes or fun to be around-- they care about the person that I actually am, the person that will continue to exist whether they are around to experience me or not.

We've talked about grief, some great fiction, writing aspirations, about rites of passage, about God, the future, about seasons of life and about individuals' art reflecting who they really are. With some friends, I've just had time to cast a look that hints at the conversations we still owe each other because it isn't the right moment for a long chat, but a moment to laugh and banter instead.

I feel like these people are holding me in their arms without wanting anything else out of me. I feel wholly safe and I feel friendship.

That's why I ended my last novel with friendship, I think, even though I 'can't keep romantic tension out of my writing to save me life.' The story ends with friendship because friendship is strong and safe and pure and steady and always seeks the best thing for others.

I'm blessed to have this beautiful, steady thing cloaked around me by so many people. It's not very often that I give a yea and amen to something that I cherish on the basis of security, but right now, I am savoring feeling secure.

Nothing in the world can touch me because I'm standing in this fortress.

Friends, thank you for being alive.

2011-09-26T14:58:00.001-07:00

I just want to be alive! Really alive!

2011-09-21T14:25:00.000-07:00

I hope you can hear me.

2011-09-19T21:10:00.000-07:00

Call for Mercy for Asia Bibi:

2011-09-03T15:15:00.001-07:00

Please, watch this video.

If right is leaving, I'd rather be wrong.

2011-09-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

She lives in a daydream where I don't belong
She is the sunlight and the sun is gone

I know that it's not within your nature.

2011-08-17T21:59:00.000-07:00

Sarge ran away last night. I know, nothing surprising. Nothing unusual, and he even had good excuses to be frustrated with me. It was late-- I haven't been spending as long a time with him as I usually do on our runs because I've been writing so much in preparation for a story contest.

He burst out of his cabin and just...ran. Gone to the neighbors' or the woods or wherever.

At eleven, I went out again and found him snuffling in the yard near the chickens' scraps and I gave him his dinner and took him to his dog-cabin-thing.

Tonight, during our run, we looked at the stars, me resting my hand on his head.

Sarge, don't ever stop coming back. I know and understand that it is not within your nature to stop leaving, but never stop coming back.

That's what I told him.

---Grace

Just...yeah.

2011-08-12T01:46:00.000-07:00

http://liz-mindawake.blogspot.com/

I always find this blog encouraging. Always.

"She doesn’t judge you, though. Also in her free time, she is a vital part of the campus ultimate Frisbee team."

2011-08-10T15:15:00.000-07:00

I found this article amusing. I also liked how, at the end, he didn't have a jaded tone; instead, an appreciative one with some humor thrown in. This is social commentary I admire.

Tromping

2011-08-01T19:47:00.001-07:00

"Milo! C'mon! Let's play that we're young explorers! Except for Gracie. She's not young." Ava totes the leash of The Lion [Sarge] a little in front of Milo who is whining about prickle bushes. The Bear [Kipper] trots a little ahead of all of us, because bears aren't very good at waiting up.

Of course Gracie isn't young. She's the one that goes barefoot over the blackberries even though the thorns prickle seven-year-old feet. She's the one that can merely walk while four-year-olds have to tromp. She's the one who is next to them, taking part in the magical world of their imaginations, giving that world an extra dose of intrigue with her outlandish suggestions for their games... yet at the same time, she's the one that they're scared isn't really quite all with them. They're scared that they can't capture her completely, that her mind is wondering somewhere else out-of-reach when she starts looking somewhere else.

Before, the verdict was up in the air, but now, there's no doubt about it. Gracie is not a kid, but she is playing with the kids. She's a Big Girl, half lost to another realm.

She's tall, taller than Momma. She goes on trips and wears pretty dresses and can talk to other people about nothing at all for just about forever.

She could really get married any second here, they're sure of it. Just like Sleeping Beauty, who was alone in the woods, just the same! Except Sleeping Beauty was sixteen, which is younger and more eligible.

She knows how to catch the most water-skippers and whittle wooden forks and, out of a single maple leaf, make a bowl that can actually hold water. She can carry the heaviest logs and make a fort out of them.

And when I am walking my very slowest, they call, "Gracie! Wait up! Gracie! Don't leave me behind!" with a note of desperation in their voices, because it is the worst thing in the world to be unable to keep up when you are seven or four.

And when a chicken hops out of the low-creeping blackberries and the two of them start shrieking, I tackle The Bear [because, while most dogs would obey the words "leave it!", bears aren't very good at restraining themselves] and my voice gets all harsh as I yell at them to scare the half-brained chicken away. And for a second, because I'm yelling and harsh, the kids look scared.

When The Lion and I eat salmon berries [he's an omnivorous lion], the kids join in and pick berries too. Their faces wrinkle up when they pop the berries into their mouths and Milo starts to say that they're sour, but Ava hushes him. They exchange a secret sibling glance, then hurriedly assure me that they love the way the berries taste, just like Gracie.

Ava gets sick of holding The Lion's leash and so it is thrust into my hands. Sarge, willful lion, has actually calmed down. Who would have thought we'd see the day when Sarge calmed down?

He's in heaven now, with all the kids. Ava's the same age I was when he was a puppy. Don't read him wrong, though. He hasn't gone soft. He's as disobedient than ever; he will only listen to Grace and Sophe, and even then, only under limited circumstances.

Sarge, since when are we the big kids? With the adults, I'm a young thing. With my little brother and sister, I am grown up. I'm just messing around, feeling my strength, feeling full of life. I ask myself, --isn't it weird, the veneration in their eyes?

19

2011-08-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

The past couple weeks have held two unnerving firsts. The first of my contemporaries has gotten married... and the first has met death. Both of them are[were?] nineteen.

Keenan is the world's loveliest bride. And so full of happiness. That was a celebration like none other.

Jimmy, I.......don't know what to say. Though I only worked with you a handful of times, you were a dear friend to many of my peers and what I remember of you is your infectious joy.

"It isn't wrong...." [take it or leave it]

2011-07-30T23:53:00.000-07:00

An important clarification must be made, as I discovered in the discussion occuring in the comments section of this post!

"Lack of style" doesn't make me shudder. I don't find it "annoying" either. At all. It usually shows me that a person isn't very image-conscious, which has a good connotation in my book. =) However, I don't think that many gents understand the effect that style has upon womenfolk, and enlightenment in this direction was my goal with this post.

I'd never think it wrong to reject an extra edge of attractiveness... but it isn't wrong to want it, either.

Bagpipes! Dancing! Knives! Kilts!

2011-07-30T14:57:00.000-07:00

After some reckless horsebackriding and a long morning outside with my little siblings, critters and the forest, I'm off to the Seattle Scottish Highland Games. I've been waiting all year. I'm really just venting excitement, I don't have anything of note to say.

Can a day get any better than this?

I DINNA KEN WHAER I KIM FREM, BUT I BELONG EN SCOTLAND!

Gentlemen:

2011-07-30T11:08:00.001-07:00

Fashion sense matters, even for you, perhaps especially for you. I don't think you understand how important good style is, how much it changes your image in the eyes of your small-minded feminine acquaintances. You could complain, but girls have stopped complaining about how unfair it is that guys are visual, so just shut up and listen.

Women notice what men wear because their dress reflects the amount of time and money put into their clothes; since ancient times, fashion has marked how much wealth a man has and thus whether he is able to fulfill the traditional role of provider. I know that men don't always take on this role in our modern world, but it's somewhat instinctual. Because of this, you don't need a nice face to be considered attractive. If you don't believe me, take it from the American Psychology Association [really really interesting citation].

Oh darn. I was about to go into the importance of good shoes and good jeans, but I have to run...... be warned-- more posts on the same subject coming up [Bridget, I hope you're rooting me on....].

Can I be cynical for a second?

2011-07-27T21:44:00.000-07:00

Artist Unknown.

Skater, by Ted Kooser

2011-07-09T13:49:00.000-07:00

Here is your poem for the day, friends:

She was all in black but for a yellow pony tail
that trailed from her cap, and bright blue gloves
that she held out wide, the feathery fingers spread,
as surely she stepped, click-clack, onto the frozen
top of the world. And there, with a clatter of blades,
she began to braid a loose path that broadened
into a meadow of curls. Across the ice she swooped
and then turned back and, halfway, bent her legs
and leapt into the air the way a crane leaps, blue gloves
lifting her lightly, and turned a snappy half-turn
there in the wind before coming down, arms wide,
skating backward right out of that moment, smiling back
at the woman she'd been just an instant before.

Yes, I know it's June. This was just too beautiful to pass up.

Two months or two years?

2011-06-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

"You can make more friends in two months by becoming really interested in other people, than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you."
-- Bernard Meltzer

Aaron Copland - Fanfare for the Common Man

2011-06-17T16:27:00.001-07:00

"I'm not an American but have been to America for long periods of time and studied it at university. This piece I agree is so American in that is inspires within the listener the spirit that hardship can be over come and that through the present might be grey the future can be bright. Some call it blind optimism some call it naive but this piece inspires the individual to try...an inherently American principle."

--TJis16, youtube commenter [and remarkable for his breed, methinks]

Sigh.

2011-06-16T18:44:00.001-07:00

I feel a sort of a desperation to wear this dress right now.

That is all.

However rare true love may be...

2011-06-15T21:13:00.001-07:00

"However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship."
-- La Rochefoucauld (1665)

About how I feel right now...

2011-06-15T16:44:00.000-07:00

[via]

Those who are selfless....

2011-06-15T11:08:00.000-07:00

Here's another tea-bag quote for you, although this one's from peach Yogi Tea.

"Those who are selfless find God"

Thoughts?

Someone save me from internet freefall...

2011-06-14T23:08:00.000-07:00

Have you ever stumbled across a random teenage girl's polyvore or blog or tumblr or wordpress that's filled with graphics emblazoned with sayings like

but they just go on and on and on, emo-ish trite little teenager sayings and song lyrics and graphics, and you realize that you've just stumbled across a broken heart that doesn't know how to stop itself? That's bathing in the pain? That's lonely? That for some reason has chosen to feel stranded?

I hurt for these teenage girls when I stumble across their web domains. I wish I could reach over the internet and give them hugs.

But then I realize that that wouldn't do anything, because I'm a girl, and they're looking for a cure that I can't give them. They don't want ordinary friendship and support. Even a guy's internet-hug would be non-sufficient and creepy... unless he met the threshhold for attractiveness and sweetness.

Still, I feel a hurt.

Pretty funny...

2011-06-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

Any other HG fans out there?

The world is still beautiful.

2011-06-12T23:19:00.003-07:00

Today I discovered that, along Hwy 18 --which is about a minute and a half from my house-- one can vacation in a ...tree house. It's a little rustic, granted, but this is teh PNW. We're careful not to attract too many tourists. That's why we keep praying [if we pray at all] for yet more rain.

But anyway. You know I'm smitten with tree houses. How did I never hear about this? This has made the "Bucket list." I have my own original term for my so-called bucket list, but it's very late and I can't recall it right now. So what's the use, I ask you?

And then I had to show you this photo of this bamboo forest. I found a travel article called Fairytale Destinations. This isn't even one of the most impressive pictures, but it captured me for some reason. You should check out these places. They're breathtaking.

The world is still beautiful.

The Inspiration Pad

2011-06-12T23:13:00.000-07:00

I would love to buy all of my creative writer-ish friends this marvelous notebook.

Not that you ever need inspiration or anything.

A theory: Lot's wife was in front of Lot

2011-06-09T23:05:00.000-07:00

I now present to the public for the first time ever an original comic by Raymond Dokupil, created during our church sermon a few weeks ago... which was about Lot.

The very last final has come and gone....

2011-06-09T14:26:00.000-07:00

....and I turned in my last exam of my high school years!

Total, utter bliss. There have been times where I've been scared of moving from one stage to the next, where leaving high school behind has seemed daunting....

But not today! No! Today I am free! Today I am proud!

[today I hope I get a 4.0 on that Chem. exam, but even if I get a B, I'm really beyond caring right now]

Let the activities of summer commence! Let preparations for a trip to Spain begin! Passports! Novels! Summer reading list! Volunteer work! Starting a job! Loving my family! Actually hanging out with my friends! Preparing artwork to sell the farmers' market! Senior portraits! Graduation party! Horses! Grass! My big untrained dogs! Getting freckles but not a burn nor a tan!

I have felt like a zombie for the past several months... how lovely to feel that the shackles of homework and exams and classes are gone.

How lovely.

"I do think you have a good instrument"

2011-06-08T17:03:00.000-07:00

You really ought to watch this video.

I'm gonna steal your heart

2011-06-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

Meet me at the water
Where all your dreams come true
Tell your sisters and your brother
Well I'll be waiting for you

And when all of this is over
When all your silver turn to gold
Say a prayer for each other
Someday I'm gonna steal your heart

I'm gonna steal your heart
Gonna steal your heart away
Gonna steal your heart
Gonna steal your heart away

Now love is like an ocean
Take it down to the depths
Yeah I'm taking you with me
Taking every step to steal your heart

I'm gonna steal your heart away
Gonna steal your heart
Gonna steal your heart away

Life is like a shadow
It never stays in one place
I'm standing here anyway
However long it takes to steal your heart

Hey look! A song in English. All Grace can do these days-- link to people, post their videos and quote them

Stay dangerous,

Gray

Definition of a Coward:

2011-06-01T19:31:00.001-07:00

"Coward. A man in whom the instinct of self preservation acts normally."
-Sultana Zaraya

Can I just say that one more time?

Coward. A man in whom the insctinct of self preservation acts normally.

Post Script

2011-05-31T15:29:00.000-07:00

I just watched the video below again. Man. There's something really stirring about how subtle it is.

Okay. Getting back to studying.

Revolverheld/Halt Dich An Mir Fest/Cling to Me

2011-05-31T15:03:00.000-07:00

Gah! Just listen to this song! And their voices! And their harmony! And the music video is so simple and lovely! And there are so many more languages in the world to learn!

Let's give a round of applause to Google translate for this one; German translates really really well. That and the fact that song lyrics are always going to sound better translated than prose.

An alternate translate goes, "cling to me" instead of "hold on to me." I think I like "cling to me" even better:

Halt Dich An Mir Fest

You tell me not so long considered
I have long said nothing more.
Our photos you've taken
because you lack something.
You call me and say I do not remember
do not remember what moves you.
Recent years have stirred up
and confused you even more.

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.

I'll leave the light on until you can sleep
but you embankments up to and fro.
Sleep the night away from me,
are you alone with me?

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.

Do you see the way out of this darkness?
Want to get out, I'm ready.
This can not all have been in already.
I believe in us and our time.

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I let not go up.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
You tell me not so long considered
I have long said nothing more.
Our photos you've taken
because you lack something.
You call me and say I do not remember
do not remember what moves you.
Recent years have stirred up
and confused you even more.

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.

I'll leave the light on until you can sleep
but you embankments up to and fro.
Sleep the night away from me,
are you alone with me?

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.

Do you see the way out of this darkness?
Want to get out, I'm ready.
This can not all have been in already.
I believe in us and our time.

Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I can understand you.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me, if your life breaks up.
Hold on to me, if you do not know everything on.
I let not go up.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.
Hold on to me tightly, as this is all that remains.

Original German lyrics:

Du hast mich lang nicht mehr so angesehen
hast mir lang nichts mehr erzählt.
Unsere Fotos hast du abgenommen
weil dir irgendetwas fehlt.
Du rufst mich und sagst ich weiß nicht mehr,
weißt nicht mehr was dich berührt.
Die letzten Jahre haben dich aufgewühlt
und dich nur noch mehr verwirrt.

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.

Ich lass das Licht an bis du schlafen kannst
doch du wällst dich hin und her.
Schläfst die Nächte von mir abgewandt,
bist du einsam neben mir?

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.

Siehst du den Weg aus dieser Dunkelheit?
Willst du raus, ich bin bereit.
Das kann nicht alles schon gewesen sein.
Ich glaub an uns und unsere Zeit.

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich lass dich nicht gehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Du hast mich lang nicht mehr so angesehen
hast mir lang nichts mehr erzählt.
Unsere Fotos hast du abgenommen
weil dir irgendetwas fehlt.
Du rufst mich und sagst ich weiß nicht mehr,
weißt nicht mehr was dich berührt.
Die letzten Jahre haben dich aufgewühlt
und dich nur noch mehr verwirrt.

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.

Ich lass das Licht an bis du schlafen kannst
doch du wällst dich hin und her.
Schläfst die Nächte von mir abgewandt,
bist du einsam neben mir?

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.

Siehst du den Weg aus dieser Dunkelheit?
Willst du raus, ich bin bereit.
Das kann nicht alles schon gewesen sein.
Ich glaub an uns und unsere Zeit.

Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich kann dich verstehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn dein Leben dich zerreißt.
Halt dich an mir fest, wenn du nicht mehr weiter weißt.
Ich lass dich nicht gehn.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.
Halt dich an mir fest, weil das alles ist was bleibt.

Isn't that breathtaking?

Stay Dangerous,

Gray

Katherine Sophia: Flying

2011-05-30T23:04:00.000-07:00

Annnd I'm still aggregating, bringing to you yet another post from Katherine Sophia, this one from November of 2010, actually. Read the original post and watch the videos she posted with it on her blog.

"It was the week before my flight test...
I had studied harder for that than for any other test in my life.

Now I was flying, doing a practice flight with another instructor to prepare for the actual test.
I'd done landings, stalls, radio towers, steep turns... It had taken hours.

Suddenly the instructor turned to me (hot-dog dare-devil that he was, the kind of guy who when you ask "What happens if the door broke and opened while you were flying?" looks and you and opens the door when you're 2,000 feet off the ground).
"Sometimes you get to this point and you forget why you're doing all this. You want to do something fun?"

I did.

And before I knew it, I was upside down and the world was overhead. We spun around and around until I was dizzy, and then he pulled us out of the spin. Then we were flying through the frozen river valley, only inches above the ice... Ice and snow were everywhere... it was like a different world.

It was the most amazing flight of my life.

But do know what annoyed me?
The entire time I felt like I was watching a movie.
Like I was at the Omni-Theatre, watching Magic of Flight or something.
I had to keep telling myself that no, this was really happening.
I was actually hurtling through the air just above the ice, spinning through the air, actually living what I was seeing and feeling.

Just thinking about this lately... and about one of my favorite quotes -

"Have you ever felt that there was something going on in life that not everyone was aware of?...As though there’s a story going on that everyone is a part of, but not everybody knows about—a sort of drama, a battle between what’s peripheral and what’s really important. As though the people you meet aren’t just their plain, prosaic selves, but are actually princes and princesses, gods and goddesses, fairies, gypsies, shepherds, all sorts of fantastic creatures who’ve chosen to hide their real shape...Or have forgotten who they really are.
Have you ever thought that?"
~The Shadow of the Bear

And I wonder... how many times do we forget about what is real? How often are we aware of the battle going on all around us, of the true story that is being written, of the reality underlying the happenings of our life?
Are we so caught up in the "movies" being played in our life, in the drama, in the fun, in the excitement of what we like and spend time doing, that when reality happens, when God brings us directly into the thick of the fight and gives us a glimpse of the glory beyond, we don't even recognize it?

Instead of seeing the day-to-day things as an inkling of far greater and more wonderful things, we compare those greater things to what is only a faded picture of them. Instead of experiencing the actual moment God places us in, we miss out because we have experienced too many moments faking what it is He wants for us.

We can't live our lives through others' battles and triumphs. We can't get what He wants for us to have by listening to others tell about their quiet times or their witnessing experiences. We have to go live the life He has for us, knowing and experiencing Him, knowing that the "unseen" is true reality.
I want to live in that reality."

Stay dangerous,

Gray

Stay -Hurts

2011-05-29T19:29:00.000-07:00

An insanely powerful song. I feel the urge to write.

"Stay"

My whole life waiting for the right time
To tell you how I feel.
Know I try to tell you that I need you.
Here I am without you.
I feel so lost but what can I do?
'Cause I know this love seems real
But I don't know how to feel.

We say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I've felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

Alright, everything is alright
Since you came along
And before you
I had nowhere to run to
Nothing to hold on to
I came so close to giving it up.
And I wonder if you know
How it feels to let you go?

You say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I've felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

So change your mind
And say you're mine.
Don't leave tonight
Stay.

Say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I've felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

Stay with me, stay with me,
Stay with me, stay with me,
Stay, stay, stay, stay with me.