Saturday, March 26, 2016

Can Thorns Be Beautiful?

I really don't know how to start this. There are so many places where I could begin. I am learning that stories do not always have a real beginning. A time when the story didn't exist and then it began. It has always been there, its just that we haven't been able to see it. Its like saying a rose bush doesn't exist just because you haven't seen the blossom yet.

I'll begin with the roots.

My father used to play drums, piano and guitar. My mother used to make explosives in her backyard. 

I played piano and jumped out of trees.

So my parents decided to put me in gymnastics.

I enjoyed my days at the gymnasium and found a safe outlet for my wildness. I would run laps around the mat, do stretches, climb the rope, swing on the bars, jump from the vault, and balance on the beam. I learned flips and tricks and handstands. I could do cartwheels on the beam. First at floor level then little by little higher until I was at the highest level. Next up was learning to do handstands on the beam. I could already do them on the mat. But I began to collapse. In the middle of cartwheels or handstands my arms would give way and I would crumple into a pile on the floor. At first I thought it was a balance issue so I kept trying. My instructor and parents were concerned, and when my arms and wrists began to hurt I realized too that there was a problem. I quit gymnastics and began to visit the doctors.

We went to countless doctors. All of them ignored my problems and told us it was growing pains. They told me to wear a wrist brace indefinitely. We went to CVS and tried on different braces and picked out black ones. As soon as we checked it out we opened the package and I put them on. It was a relief for my injured wrists and I was glad to have them. I wore them all day, everyday. I went to bed with them on, took showers with them on, I played baseball with them on. I never took it off. My skin inside the braces began to turn white and softened and the whole thing stank. We began to take them them off to wash them but while they were off I would sit quietly and not move. My muscles began to atrophy.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

“Organ Favorites” - Lynne A. Lauderdale

Hello Everyone, I don't have anything new for y'all but I wrote something earlier in the semester and have been disappointed that I had no use for it. I was trying to write a concert report for one of my classes but I realized that his one wasn't valid because it was merely a recital with only one person playing. If  there had been at least one other person performing in the recital I would have been able to use this bit for academic purposes but alas, the recital did not fit the criteria for the assignment. I have been so peeved about it all this time that I have finally decided to publish this as a blog post here on Experience. Enjoy. :)
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I have been looking forward to attending Dr. Lynne Lauderdale organ recital because the instrument has always held a special place in my heart and because I have never been to an organ recital before. She played six pieces, three of which I took special notice of.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Joy is Trust

My sister ran across some old writing of mine as she cleaned out her desk tonight. Thought I would share it with y'all.

Joy does not always laugh.

Sometimes Joy cries.
Sometimes you weep, and sometimes you feel insecure.
Unsure of the future; unsure of how your past will effect that future.
But Joy presses on.
Joy has hope.

Sometimes you are so desperate, your life is in ruins
and you look at the fragments of what once was your all
and you mourn.
But Joy remembers.

Joy remembers that God promised never to abandon.
In the midst of anguish you will fall broken into his arms
And He will heal.
It will hurt. You will cry. You will struggle
But in the end, Joy smiles and Joy will laugh.

Just because you didn't always laugh
doesn't mean you didn't have Joy.

Joy is Trust.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

True Will by Liturgy - Review

As many of you know, I love classical music. When I was five years old I had already decided that I was going to be a concert pianist and tour the world playing my favorite song, Beethoven's Fur Elise. Well It's been fifteen years now and although I am no where near touring the world as a concert pianist, I have long been able to play Fur Elise. I am going to college now as a major in piano performance. I am surrounded by classical music every day and I love it. Almost every CD I own is classical music and my first purchases on iTunes were of the same ilk. When I was fourteen my ring tone was the opening lines of Beethoven's 5th. As you can see, classical music is a defining factor in my life. However, there are many other kinds of music I enjoy listening to, such as jazz, Gregorian chants, pop, indie, hymns, bluegrass, 20's and 30's music, classic rock, country, and rap.

This photo is not mine, here is where I got it from.
One of the things I am really enjoying since starting college is the music club that a friend of mine started. Every week we pick out songs and send it to my friend and he puts it on CDs and passes them out to everyone in the club. On Friday we meet at ten o'clock with snacks, tea, and coffee to talk about the music. We love exploring new artists and styles of music and try to pick out the most obscure ones we know of. Consequently almost every song is one that I have never heard of before and I love it! This weeks CD had a lot of good songs on it but one in particular I found especially intriguing.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Dancing at Lughnasa

Two weeks ago Friday I went to a play. The last time I remember going to a play was with my third grade class in South Carolina. We saw a silly version of Cinderella that I absolutely despised. This play however, was much different than the one from so many years ago. It was called Dancing at Lugnsasa and was being put on by theatre department of the university I'm attending so consequently it was free to all college students. (Say whaa??) I didn't go alone of course and went with my boyfriend and two others.

Somehow muscadines have become synonymous with an idealized past and despite their disappointing taste brings with them a comforting sense of belonging. 

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Wearing Shoes Every Day: College

As many of you know already, this was my first week of college. As fewer of you may know, this is my first real weekend in ten years. Why do I say that? Well, I've been home-schooled all of my life except for half a semester in third grade about ten or eleven years ago. It may not have occurred to you before, but I have never relished the weekends like you non-home-schoolers/working people do. What, it's Friday? Last day of school? Nope. Not for me. I did school on Saturday too. Mayyybe I went to the beach on Wednesday... but that's besides the point. I just never got it. What is so special about Friday and Saturday?

Keeping it real here. My first day of school pictures for the first time since 3rd Grade were put on hold while my brother and I gathered up all the chickens that had gotten out and put them back in their yard. 

Well, yesterday... I got it y'all. I left my last class in the rehearsal hall at 2:15 eager to chunk my backpack in my car and hurry up and relax. When I sat down in the chairs in the lobby of my favorite building, The Center for Fine and Performing Arts at the University of West Florida, I sighed in relief. I'm done! It's the weekend! Yay! That my friends, is a feeling this home-schooled girl never imagined she would feel. Yes. I've jumped on board. I love the weekends too. I promise, I'll stop making fun of all a' y'all now. ;)

I've experienced some other new things this week besides just the weekend though. Like a daily alarm clock setting; wearing make-up every day; having to find decent clothes everyday; packing a lunch or at least making sure I have enough money to buy lunch so that I don't keel over dead in the middle of the day.; carrying my water bottle around and not losing it (although I haven't been the most successful with that.); wearing shoes all day every single day; and here's the million dollar question I know y'all have been waiting for... how did I deal with all the people?

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Untangling Knots and Tying Strings

I woke with a start.  I scooched to the edge of my bed and squinted my eyes as I tried to make out the numbers on the clock.  The digits glowed a dim orange but it was still a few seconds before my tired eyes adjusted to the light.  Still, it wasn’t time.  I continued to stare at the clock and tried not to fall asleep. 

I don’t believe it was every night but in my memories it seems like it was.  I was about nine years old.  I would stay up and wait for my favorite radio program to come on.  It probably started somewhere around ten o’clock.

After what seemed like ages it was finally time.  I readjusted my pillows, my blankets, and tried to shove our big dog away from me.  I turned the volume down low so that my sister wouldn’t wake and laid perfectly still so as not to make the tiniest noise.  Out of the speakers came the eeriest of sounds.  Outer space music.  It made me feel small and made my young mind ask questions.  What is out there? How big is God? Where is Heaven? Are aliens real? The surreal sounds would take me to an entirely different world; Sometimes it was frightening, sometimes I would get lost, and sometimes it was breathtaking – Always, it was filled with wonderment. 

Starry Night has always been my favorite Vincent van Gogh piece. This painting expresses exactly the way the outer space music made me feel.