Monday, August 30, 2010

An Unset Diamond

If each person is a jewel, then maybe each of us has a setting in which we're meant to shine, a context in which all we have to do is be ourselves, and the light will shine into us and out of us and the effect is brilliant.

Not that we aren't useful outside of that setting. Diamonds are hard, so I bet you could use one to hammer away at nails if you wanted to. The nails will get hammered, the job will get done, and it will be fine. It just won't be brilliant.

That's how I feel. I'm not in my proper setting yet. Maybe the past ten years have been a matter of God cutting me and working on my facets. Good heavens, I hope so. And my current situation isn't bad. I'm getting my job done. It's not killing me.

But it's not brilliant. I'm out of my setting, and I'm useful enough for the work I'm doing now. It just feels like a waste, is all.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Nebulous Music

I've noticed something about my own music-listening habits. You know how you tend to like songs that are familiar, or that are at least catchy so that they become familiar quickly? That's certainly true of me, but I also have the opposite desire, at least in certain genres. I find that sometimes I just want music to be atmospheric, and it's hard to let it settle into the background when you're following the rhythm and the melody closely. I don't want it to become familiar. I want it to remain nebulous sound.

This means that I'll use a different set of criteria for determining how much I like an album, or how many albums I want to buy. For an artist that does a more popular style, like pop, rock, or country, I like it when they mix things up, show some range, and develop from album to album. If every song on every album sounds the same, then you have to really, really like that sound to buy more than one song. But for the atmospheric stuff, that sameness is exactly what I'm looking for. That doesn't mean that there's no substance to be appreciated if one were to listen closely; it's just that I'm not always aiming for a deeply analytical listening experience.

So, for example, I just bought a couple Lisa Gerrard albums off of iTunes. I'm liking them. But I don't necessarily want to become overly familiar with her songs. I want to have them on in my room, when it's clean and the scarves hanging from the ceiling look exotic and not like an extension of the piles of clothes on my bed and floor. I want the sound to go with the low lighting and the scented candle and the deep colors in my rug, without any particular melody jumping out too much.

I don't have more of a point than that. I was just noticing it.

Saturday, August 07, 2010

The Price of Fame

My pastor has a blog (Not the Religious Type, found in the right-hand column here). It includes links to some of his readers' own blogs, and yesterday I sent in a link to my own. Because there's now at least a small chance that folks will be wandering over here (even if it's just out of morbid curiosity), I've deleted a number of the posts that had been written because I needed to vent, and might not be that helpful to the population at large.

Just wanted my current readers (both of you) to know what was up, and to declare that I've done more writing and posting than the adjusted numbers would indicate. I still want credit for all that.

Fun Was Had. By Me, No Less.

If I'm going to whine about not enjoying enjoyable things, then it's only right that I should acknowledge the joy when it comes. So, a couple positive things since that last post:

I did my Hamlet piece again for my acting class. Did I tell you I'd done it a couple weeks ago, and was told I sounded way too upbeat? That was (ironically?) a bummer. And an eye-opener, to realize that what I'm thinking and what people hear and see from me doesn't always line up. Good to know, as an actor. So last night I did it again and was told I seemed much more unhappy, which was awesome. It was the last in that round of acting classes, and my teacher told me I was really good. Hooray!

And today I ventured out of the house to meet up with a friend to hang out and discuss the possibility of turning some of these here blog posts into little podcasts. Yep, you folks may be able to hear the dulcet tones of my voice in the not-too-distant future. Won't that be fun, kiddies? I think one of the best things about this whole meeting, apart from the fact that I like my friend (props, Anya!), is that I was able to enjoy the little things surrounding it, instead of worrying. The walks there and back, the timing, the food we ate -- all of that could have been a source of stress if I'd let it, but I woke up feeling pretty good, prepared to accept my own choices, and so far the feeling is sticking. Again, hooray.

I think that's a biggie, that bit about choosing to accept my own choices, instead of worrying that I could somehow have done better -- gotten up earlier, worked harder, allotted more time for transportation, whatever. Big fun-suck. Who needs that? Not I, said the blogger.

Friday, August 06, 2010

I Want to Have Fun

Duh.

Here's the thing: I do fun stuff, but don't necessarily have as much fun doing it as I'd like to. I always want to go back home and do nothing. That's what I look forward to most. A couple weeks ago, I took a couple vacation days to do just that -- or at least, a nice combination of Nothing and at-home chores that I don't always get to on weekends because I'm out doing said "fun" things. I found myself thinking, "I'd like to take some time -- at least two weeks, perhaps a few months -- to just be myself," and I realized that, at least in that moment, my idea of "being myself" was just staring at the wall and letting my mind wander for hours and hours.

So, I guess I want a couple things: I want time to do a lot of Nothing, and variations on Nothing (e.g. read, watch TV, nap, write in my journal, post stupid comments on Facebook), and I want to be able to enjoy all the activities I have on my plate when I'm not doing Nothing. Really, most of these activities, at least on paper, ought to be frigging awesome -- acting classes, going out with friends, stuff I'd probably be sad not to do. But there's something slightly off in my brain, I think, that makes almost any and all activity feel like obligation and work. What's that about? I don't think it was always this way, or at least not to this degree. I think some synapse got out of whack somewhere along the line, and it's messing things up. Stupid synapse.

The statement keeps running through my mind, "I want to have fun." And I don't really mean that I want to do fun things, because that's happening. I mean that I want to have fun doing them. And because that change would have to happen somewhere deep inside my gray matter where I can't see it or take a bread knife to it, it's harder to change.

But the desire is there.

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

This Supernatural Business

A week ago, I almost bumped (literally) into a guy at my local grocery store. I recognized him as a guy I'd had a crush on in music school, fifteen years ago. He'd changed a fair bit, but I recognized him anyway (a helpful combination of crush-intensified memory and some light Internet stalking done in more recent years). He was busy not crashing into me and moving on, so he probably didn't get a real look at my face, much less recognize me. If any, "Hey, you're that person I knew!" was going to happen, it was going to have to come from me.

It didn't. I saw him twice more, but was all self-conscious -- I have a zit on my lip! I'm wearing frumpy clothes! What on earth would I say beyond, "Hey, I recognize you after fifteen years, but that's not a reason to be scared!"? -- so I watched him leave the store and got teary on my way to the bananas.

This story exemplifies the fears I have surrounding my Nov. 4 prayer: If I can't do things like this for myself, then the things I want may never happen. I spend a fair bit of my life ping-ponging between fear, and beating myself up for that fear. Even at the little amusement park I went to this past weekend, I was afraid. I'm afraid of heights, so roller coasters and some other rides scare me. Sometimes I'll try to be brave and get in line, but I'll spend all that time feeling scared and icky. The ride may be followed by the thrill of accomplishment, but that's quickly chased by more fear as the prospect of another ride looms. Sometimes I just won't go on the ride at all, and I'll be disappointed with myself for not confronting my fear. I did have a mini-revelation this last time, that the whole reason these rides exist is to play on our natural (and worthwhile) instincts, and therefore my fear of them is not some moral failing. But again, the whole experience is an example of how my mind works, and how thoroughly it tends to un-fun activities you might think it impossible to un-fun.

I know not everyone who reads this blog believes in the whole God/prayer thing, so it's embarrassing sometimes to talk about my hopes that God will come in and do things that I can't or don't do for myself. I feel like I should be able to hold up documentation and say, "Look what I've done on my own behalf!" so that you can then respond, "Good for you! Keep it up and things are bound to happen!" And it's not like I don't do anything for myself, ever. I do try. It's just that I see a huge chasm between where my efforts get me and where I want to be. Part of me feels like I have no business asking God to fill in that gap, even if He's God and He likes people and He fills gaps for them. Another part believes He likes it when we include Him in our lives this way. Either way, I'm very conscious of my need for help. Lots of it.

And I still want God Himself. Sometimes I take for granted that an experience of God will come with any gift He gives me. I want that. And that makes sense. Any gift is ultimately about the relationship between the giver and the recipient.

So here I am again, God, asking for big things. Feel free to do some showing off here.