If I Only Had a Brain

I have the song We're Off to See the Wizard running through my head. When I ask myself why, the answer I keep getting is because, because, because, because, becaaaaaause!

He'll Look Adorable in a Hat, if They Can Get Him to Keep It On

The parents and I are heading down to New Jersey this weekend for my nephew's first birthday. It all seems oddly familiar somehow. I think we were down in that area about a year ago this time. Wonder what that was about.

"It's a question of lust, it's a question of trust..."

Actually, it's not a question of lust at all. I just wanted to use that lyric as a title. Here's a more accurate title for you: "Trusting Arvo Part." The a in Part should have an umlaut (those double dots, like in Motley Crue) over it, but I don't know offhand how to insert that kind of character into a blog post. I'm no expert in Estonian (heck, I'm no novice), but if it's at all like German, Part with an umlaut would be pronounced kind of like Pehrt.

Anyway, Arvo Part is an Estonian contemporary classical composer. I love this guy. Hard to explain why I love his music so much, but I think it's because it combines what I love best about ancient and modern classical music. And there truly is something ancient about his sounds. I hear his work and I'm in a great stone church, where the light comes in from windows high overhead, and you get dizzy from looking up and turning around to take it all in. Yet he's not afraid of dissonance, and leans into it and lets it sit, like modern composers do. Love it, love it. It's probably not for everybody, but if you're at all curious, I recommend his work wholeheartedly.

And did I mention that that I find it hauntingly, achingly, dumbfoundingly beautiful?

I first heard his music my second year in England, when the family I lived with had some of his CDs. Maybe I trusted their judgment. But somehow, that trust transferred to the composer himself. While my taste in classical music is more developed than my taste in pretty much everything else, I still reach a point every once in a while where I'll ask, "Was that good or was it cheesy?" I don't know when or how quickly it happened, but I came to the point where I trusted that if Arvo did it, Arvo meant it, and Arvo knows what's what. I might be suspicious of some of these sounds if I thought they were written by another, but I trust Arvo. This positive judgment about the composer fills in a gap left by my judgment about music.

Realizing this gives me some empathy for people who appear to blindly follow a popular artist or performer. Maybe they're not mindless; maybe they simply trust the person. Maybe that's how we all learn and grow: by choosing to trust and follow the expamles of other people, using what little judgment we have to choose whom to trust. Then, as we gain experience, we learn to make artistic and creative judgments for ourselves. But hitching your critical wagon to someone else's brain, while it can go too far, is a natural part of the process.

If I'm going to be hitched to a musical brain, I'm quite happy for it to be Arvo Part's.

Observation and Normalcy

I've been hesitant to talk about my European trip with people because I don't know what to say. I'm not sure I quite expected a heightened experience, as I'm not prone to those, but perhaps I'd hoped for one anyway. Most of you probably hope I have fun stories about what I did and what I saw. I did try to be open to things as they came my way, rather than cling rigidly to plans, and I think I did that passably, though nothing all that big came barrelling my way.

I've posted a list of things that happened, because some things did. But that's not really what my trip was like, because I'm me wherever I go, and my life takes place inside my head. And that means that my ten days abroad were basically normal life in unusual locations. It wasn't surreal. It wasn't completely different from anything else I've ever done. It was more like a birthday that involves a few nice messages from friends and family, but otherwise is like any other day. I spent most of my time working not to analyze or let myself sink into the sadness that I know I'm prone to, and was rather pleased at how successful I was.

I did notice something about myself: I go into Observation Mode when I'm in situations I don't understand. I see this in improv class, where it's not particularly helpful; you need to get in there and DO, and don't have the luxury of just watching the way the audience can. And I see this in social situations. I've always been cautious, and in the past have berated myself for being so cripplingly shy. But when I was in Brighton, around people I'd met before, I realized it wasn't quite shyness that was holding me back. It was awareness that there are thousands of ways, big and small, in which communication and interaction differ from what I'm used to in America, and I wanted to figure it out. So I was quiet a lot. One-on-one conversations were OK, but in groups, I watched and listened.

I can be very snarky (duh), and I didn't want to plunge into trying to make jokes without having some idea of how to get them across effectively. The result was that England didn't really see the sarcastic Holly whom you all know and lo-... well, whom you all know.

But the Observer is me, too. And the sad girl who got philosophical and lonely and teary as she sat on a bench up on the Eiffel Tower. And girl who wandered into town to buy giant Cadbury bars just as she'd done when she lived in England nine years ago.

So, if you want to know how my trip was, the answer is that I was me. And I'm me now that I'm back home. And that's both as hopeful and as disappointing as it was before I left.

Anybody Have an Rule or a Opinion?

Does anybody know what the rule is when it comes to using "a" or "an" before a letter that's spoken or written by itself rather than as part of a word? For example, if I were leading a cheer, would I shout, "Gimme an M!" or, "Gimme a M!" I think I'd use "an," because when you say it aloud, it sounds like "em," and that's the whole point of having two articles to choose from, isn't it?

It seems to me that this should be based on pronunciation instead of spelling. You'd say something is an honor, not a honor, even though honor starts with H, right?

I think this is on my mind because I Can Has Cheezburger: A LOL Cats Collekshun has come out recently, and when I saw the title I wondered if the people behind it were stupid. Not to be an arrogant a-hole about it. But really: Would anybody say that out loud? Even if you were in the habit of intentionally misspelling things for the sake of cuteness? It's just so awkward, "A LOL..."

OK, brainiacs, I know y'all can weigh in on this intelligently.

Lost Marbles = Beer Goggles

I stepped onto the subway the other day and was immediately greeted with, "Damn, you're beautiful! But you probably knew that already."

Of course, the guy turned out to have "psych issues." He proceeded to mention his many millions of dollars and the fact that he likes to drink booze. I have myself a drunk millionaire!

The next group of passengers was greeted more critically: "Crazy-looking mother fuckers." A man next to me observed, "That wasn't nearly as nice as the welcome he gave you. You got off easy."

Indeed I did.

My Big Trip: Stuff We Did, Stuff That Happened (a post in which I have the worst time with carriage returns)

London:

--Fun Fact: Helen's brother lives in an area in the Northern outskirts of London called "Tooting." Hee hee.
-- Was treated rudely by just about everyone who heard my American accent. Helen apologized repeatedly for her people, though some of the rude people were from other European countries. Helen was often mistaken for an American and treated rudely, just because I sounded like a Yank and she was with me. In my experience that's mostly a London thing, though.

-- Watched an old episode of Jonathan Creek, one of my favorite shows from my time in England years ago.


Paris:

-- Climbed to the second level, as high as they'll let you climb up the Eiffel Tower. I was scared. Helen braved the elevator to the top and reported that, while you can go up to a level that's exposed to the air, you can stay behind windows if you like. OK then, I can probably tackle that the next time I visit Paris.

-- Decided I have to visit Paris again so I can make it to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

-- I got honked at by a taxi -- as depicted by trumpets in Gershwin's American in Paris!

-- Helen got pooped on by a French pigeon. Their poop is mustard yellow. Anybody have an idea why this is?

-- Stumbled upon the French version of American Idol on TV. Heard the announcer say "toot suite" more than once.

-- Had a hotel room that was so small, our twin beds were right up against each other. Cozy.

-- Witnessed an entire fight between two young men on the street, and the brave older gentlemen who broke it up.

--Learned there was a real D'Artagnan (of The Three Musketeers). I had no idea! Dude apparently lived right on the Seine. Nice.

-- Learned the hard way that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. Didn't even get to see the pyramid lit up at night, because that was the week in which they were using it to project poetry onto the surrounding buildings.

-- Touched human bones in the catacombs. Wondered what it means to respect the dead.
-- Walked a lot. Then rode the Metro. Then walked some more. Had feet so sore it took me two days to recover.
-- Saw the cutest little boy entranced by two young guys who were singing and playing guitar. My camera battery died just as I tried to take a picture. Have yet to find out if I got the shot.
-- There's a Metro stop in Paris called Miromesnil. Anybody else think that sounds like Metamucil?

Brighton:
-- Felt really normal. Was not a tourist, but visiting people and places I knew. Hung out, ran errands, took naps.
-- Met cute, tall South African, who seemed to think I was cute as well. (Not sure if he thought I was tall.) This was the closest I got to meeting my flirting goal.
-- Saw huge chasm of potential awfulness open before my host when he dropped his keys -- which included the only existing immobilizer for his car engine -- into a drain grate. Several men, including many of their new neighbors, came out to help/watch as they bucketed out 5 feet of leaves and water and lowered a man in to retrieve the keys. Miraculously, once they were dry, even the electronic devices worked again.
-- They needed some prose to be read over photo stills for part of the Easter service. As of Good Friday evening, they still didn't have anything, so I was asked to take a crack at it, and they used what I wrote. Yay! I was excited to be asked to write, and to do the writing, and to have people like it and use it, and to participate again in my old church -- especially since they'd really only known me as a trombone player before. I was so excited, in fact, that I couldn't fall asleep that Friday night and was up till 2:30. It was written from the point of view of one of Jesus' disciples on the Saturday between the day He died and the day He rose. They wanted a guy to read it (guess my voice is too high and my face too beardless to convince folks that I'm Matthew or Peter), so I didn't get to be a dramatic actress, but it was still a big deal to me.
-- Saw the original High School Musical, and Madagascar 2. Did I mention I was staying in a house with several children? I have this awesome bit of music running through my head, where Moto Moto, the boy hippo, decides to hit on Julia:

I like 'em big
I like 'em chunky
I like 'em round
A little somethin' somethin'

It sounds best when will.i.am does it.

Boston:

-- Work.

Countdown

I fly for London tonight. Yippee! My sister-in-law would be proud that I'm wearing clothes that look good, even though they're not as warm as plenty of other things I own. Several other impractical outfits are in my suitcase, which is ready to do damage to my roommate's back as he lifts it into the trunk of his Honda Civic.

Last night, after packing, I prepared for a week of serious flirting by painting my toenails bright blue. In the past, I would have considered that frivolous. No more! It's an investment. Even if it's chilly and rainy, I'll know my toes are shining brightly beneath my boots.

My travelling companion, Helen, says she's also up for flirting. Excellent. Always helpful to be on the same page for such things.

This Just In

I've been a sporadic Twitterer for several months now, acquiring a whopping total of 9 updates. Guess I'm never doing much "right now," or I'm too busy doing it to tweet about it. But I've posted links to my Twitter posts in the right-hand column, for you to peruse if you're ever as bored as I am.

(Mom, Twitter is a site for posting nothing but "status updates," like one would do on Facebook. Great for those of us with short attention spans!)

Spaghetti Weevil!

Enjoy April Fool's Day, Everybody!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/03/30/the-history-of-april-fool_n_180097.html?alacarte=1