Leaving London

After a few weeks in London, I left. Gone. Bu-bye. Vamos. I went to the London Temple on Friday. It is out in Lingfield near a race track. There were flowers, grounds, a man-made lake, a bench to sleep on; basically everything I could find in Hyde Park. But the temple was nice. I got to help in the baptistry, which I have never done before. It was a nice day overall followed by going to a fringe musical - Spring Awakening. It was definitely interesting. I didn't know much about it going in, but it was assuredly interesting in looking at a community that denies the existence of sex as something to be discussed. It was interesting in many ways, especially the staging. But it wasn't mind-blowing or something I loved excessively. The top shows I have seen so far have been the hip-hop Othello, The Collaborators, Misterman, and Long Day's Journey Into Night. After the play, we left early to take a bus to go to Dover via Canterbury. It is interesting that I really don't know the geography of England at all. I have no idea of where so many things are outside of London. I know where Wales is, but so many things exist in this mush of a country outside the map of London. I got a glimpse of Canterbury with a cathedral in the distance. Then off to Dover. The castle was the most impressive part of the trip. I loved exploring so much and the ancient buildings had their own sense of history. Walking on buildings from the 1200s was something that made me aware of how small I am and what a small amount of time I have existed. After my trip back in time, I walked along the beach and went to a museum with the oldest sea-faring vessel in the world. It was pretty cool. After a long bus ride back, we went to a fringe theatre production called Three Kingdoms which completely confused me. But it had some great movement-based theatre. Anyway, I had a great day outside of London. Then church was in Portuguese on Sunday. And now I am off to Scotland!

Magical Theatre and Harry Potter

It has happened. I rode a broomstick but in a very Muggle-ish CGI way. But since I am a Muggle, this is the only way I will probably get to ride a broomstick and open the door to Hogwarts and see all the other things I got to observe. Of course this mostly revolved around movie magic, but it was still really awesome. Drinking Butter Beer before seeing Hagrid's animatronic head, seeing the real big miniature of Hogwarts, and riding Sirius' flying motorcycle. It was an exciting and great day and felt very much like living as a child again. Unlike many of the people in the group, I did not grow up learning to read with Harry Potter, but he is very reminiscent of all things childish and long-gone. I'm no longer a child, but often I miss being one. Museums occasionally bring out the child in me with the pleasure of imagining myself in ancient civilizations.

Harry Potter brought out a different kind of childhood memory to me. I remember staying up all night just for the pleasure of reading the fourth book during my last year of high school. I also am reminded of the times I would buy the sixth and fifth books in Illinois after working all night at the hotel then driving to a YSA activity in Indiana. The activity was scheduled the day the book was released for two years in a row. I just remember staring at the book though I was exhausted while driving from Bloomington, Illinois to Bloomington, Indiana twice. It was nice to be a child again for 2 hours and revel in all the things that no longer find quite as magical.

But I still find life and the world magical, just in different ways. I saw Cillian Murphy in a one-man play called Misterman at the National Theatre last night and it was magical. It was disturbing, and moving, and beautiful, and horrible, and magical. I wasn't sure what to expect and there is so much I could say about this play. But somehow words are not enough to explain, describe, or even give a hint of the experience. Just walking across the Thames after the show, I kept thinking and thinking about this show that tried to show the life and mind of a crazy man while redeeming him in a way. But the river looked lovely with the lights from buildings on the shore reflecting on the waves as a speed boat hummed under the bridge. The rain has been soft and almost-mist for the last days, just kissing my hair and clothing. And despite all the noise, life has quiet moments when breathing can still be heard clearly and the world seems to pause in contemplation of all the life on it.

A different kind of magic happened today. We went on a fascinating tour of the National Theatre and it was amazing how they are able to continually find and produce so many plays. The technical aspects of having two shows in one space were revealed along with all the work involved. We examined how props and sets were created to make the realistic or symbolic worlds of these plays. I loved looking at this professional theatre and how they were doing what I have done in the past (sets and props) but on a larger and more professional scale, After the three shows I have seen at the National, I can say all of them are amazing in terms of lighting, sound, props, and sets.

Then I was able to see two shows today. The Woman in Black was very good. I love horror movies, so I loved the effect it had and was able to create in an audience. I hated the audience we were with since it was mostly middle-school-aged children who could not be quiet to save their lives. But, no matter. I still enjoyed the show to the utmost. I don't scream or react visibly during horror movies, but it was interesting sitting next to people who do scream in reaction while I sat stiff and unmoving.

Then after a mad dash through the streets of London, I went to One Man, Two Guvnors with the class. It was very entertaining and funny if not the best theatre I have seen. They seemed to be playing to the audience a bit too much, but I still enjoyed it. But now it is time for bed so I can go to the temple tomorrow.

Not Dead Yet

To add to the William Blake and John Donne memorials in St. Pauls, I added all the author's in the Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey. I was not allowed to photograph any of these because apparently that might be morbid or disrupt sanctity. If I was famous, I would love it if people took photos of my grave. But, I suppose I will probably be buried in the ground and no one will care if people take pictures outside. And I will probably never be famous.

I found Great Scotland Yard but it is more of a street than a yard. But more note-worthy is the plays and museums I have seen. Monday was Long Day's Journey Into Night and it was beautifully acted by Laurie Metcalf. Disturbing and dramatic, it ended and as painful as it was, I wanted it to keep going. This was after a day in Westminster Abbey, so despite the Dayquil (yes, I got sick in London) I had a very moving day, even if the movement was in a hazy fog. But as we all know from Eugene O'Neill, if you feel comfortable in a fog you are probably an alcoholic or dope fiend.

Before that on Sunday, I went to three hours of church in Portuguese and was very glad that I don't need to understand everything and am fine with knowing very little. I understood about 10% of what was going on, but it was very nice. No idea what I'm supposed to do, except learn more random phrases of Portuguese. Life is always a bit funny and interesting though.




On the interesting note, I saw two Shakespeare plays today, one very traditionally performed and one very avant garde. The avant garde MacBeth was in The Globe, in Polish, and involved many cross-dressing male prostitutes, dope fiends, addicts, masks, alienation, stylized movement, mooning the audience, glitter, sequins, lip-syncing to American pop hits, and a rape scene. I enjoyed it, but confusing and interesting is how I would describe it. It was interesting. Some parts were good, a couple parts were very good, and many parts were confusing. The plot wasn't confusing, but the stylistic choices being made were.

Then the traditional As You Like It was in a Pub Theatre and was very well done. We went as a class and I think most of the girls were more excited about the many good-looking actors on stage instead of the work they were doing, but I think I'm jaded. I was thinking about how cute the latest guy I have a crush on is and

how I'd like to hold his hand. But, I'm in Europe. Many fish in this pond too. Now, I just need to get better or go to pubs while hopped up on Dayquil. Either way is guaranteed good fun because as strange as I get on medication, I'm not too much different off of the juice. Well, goodnight says the Dayquil fiend. To sleep for 5 hours to arise and do lots of things tomorrow before Harry Potter Studio tour.

Hip-hop Othello and The Globe

You know those days when everything is mellow yellow? I had one of those yesterday and it was wonderful. It was very refreshing. Today, I am on Dayquil, but it has been fabulous (not because of the Dayquil, but because of everything I can do with Dayquil in me). Yesterday, was a fabulous Friday. I went to the Globe Theatre, that hallowed place for Theatre and English students, that is in fact a recreation. But we did not dwell on technicalities, but embraced the spirit of The Globe, especially after I got a Venti Hot Chocolate from Starbucks right across the way. This was needed with the cold wet wind off the Thames. But I survived and pledged to dress more warmly for tomorrow.

The Tate Modern then was perfect. My mind was in this state of pure relaxation so I could just stare and absorb art for hours. And that is what I did. It was wonderful. Picasso, Matisse, Ernst, and so many others. They just seemed to empty my soul and it was light and sunny. Then after a few hours of that I went down to the cafe and watched some of the Tour de Romandie on youtube. I love cycling. The sport and the hobby, but I haven't been able to watch Romandie yet this trip, so it was wonderful. After the fringe theatre show last night I also watched Romandie, and when I woke up this morning. I am watching it now.

The fringe show we saw was called His Greatness and it was about Tennessee Williams. It was decent and in an interesting theatre above a pub. But it was nothing compared to the Hip-hop version of Othello we saw today. The Globe was just as windy and cold today, but this play warmed everyone up. It was done by Chicago Shakespeare Company, but they decided to make the entire piece a series of hip-hop songs with a DJ in Juliet's balcony mixing the whole time. It was brilliant and amazing. And this is not the Dayquil talking - it really was. Everyone was dancing and when the music finally stopped was when Desdemona died and when Othello died. The silence was audible. They didn't stick to Shakespeare's words but made up their own verse

chock full of pop culture references and it worked. They rapped out Othello and had a couple cool dance moves, though they were obviously not dancers. It was an amazing show and almost ties with The Collaborators as my favorite show in London.

And before I went back to The Globe today I went to the British Museum again and got lost for a bit in an Asian art exhibition right next to the Picasso etchings. For this I entirely blame Dayquil. I walked into a different entrance and felt no need to even figure out where I was, much less what I wanted to see, but wandered. But it was amazing wandering. I saw mostly Asian things today but not everything yet. There is so much still to see there. But to continue the Asian theme I am going to see Wild Swans (the play) tonight. But for the next 30 minutes I am going back to the Tour de Romandie. Then the Giro d'Italia which starts today.

Weapons! Death! Dismemberment!

A day spent in the Tower of London and no scars to show for it. Though there are many many many weapons that could inflict much more than a scar. Weapons are so fascinating. It is not just their age but also their ability to kill more than a couple people. And they aren't easy to use. People have to be be strong and skilled to use them, which is not something I know anything about. But somehow we have all this armor and weaponry that no longer has a any practical usage unless an apocalyptic event happens and we have to survive with swords and lances. So, I liked the Tower of London, but it was probably just my morbid and twisted personality. The Crown Jewels seemed a bit overdone, like the entire exhibit was trying to persuade me of the ultimate glory of

monarchy and I wasn't buying. The coolest thing in the Crown Jewels was a 12th century spoon that has been used to anoint Kings and Queens since then. Everything else was Charles I or later. And I don't absolutely love Charles I. He was better than Charles II, but still hateable. After the many hours I spent at the Tower, I hit the Victoria and Albert Museum for an hour before they closed. I saw some amazing and wonderful Raphael's. There were eight of them and they were so large, they basically had a hall to themselves. Raphael had designed these to be made into tapestries, so they were as

large as the tapestries the Pope wanted. He had done them by pasting many smaller sheets of paper together to create this huge sheet. I then also saw many other 16th century remnants including altars, clothes, and furniture. While this may seem like an awesome day so far, it gets better.

I ran over to the National Theatre and saw this amazing tragi-comedy about Stalin and the playwright Mikhail Bulgakov. It was absurdist, hilarious, and tragic. I loved it. I have seen many shows here so far, but this has been my favorite. It was so beautiful and funny. Throughout the whole you knew it was going to end tragically, but you kept laughing upon occasion. I have never laughed so hard at Stalin. He was asking for a hug from Bulgakov, but Stalin with arms thrown out begging for a hug was priceless. As for the London thing, I have now had three people ask me for directions. Strangers. Maybe it is the way I walk, or my face that says, I know where I'm going. I usually do, so that's a plus.

Recommend: St. Paul's Cathedral

St. Paul's is amazing. Hands down. But let me mention the crowds at the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace. As someone who wasn't expecting it, I was surprised by the thousands of people gathered to view something I didn't know about until that morning. I guess I was never one for all the royal pomp and circumstance. I only watched the royal wedding because I was up all night working, and I couldn't even watch it for that long even then. I never cared much about the royals at all. So, the crowds were really not worth it. We stayed for the changing but the band was still playing as we were escaping the crowd. I do want to go back and do the tour of Buckingham Palace, but not when the changing of the guards is happening. I suppose I should get used to crowds since I am going to be going to many different World Heritage tourist sites.

After escaping from the crowds and going under Wellington's Arch again, we headed to St. Paul's. I wasn't über-excited about it, but I loved the beauty of the paintings, the sculptures, the frescos, and the dome. It was all wonderfully beautiful. It was so beautiful and I probably would have cried at certain points if I hadn't been so tired. The faith that created it and kept it up was amazing. While I wasn't allowed to take pictures, I wish I had been.

Then after climbing many many many stairs we got to the whispering gallery, then out to the outside of the bottom of the dome, then to the outside of the top of the dome. All of these provided amazing views of London, and made me appreciate the sunny day we came up on. London was spread out beneath me and was wonderfully large with very few skyscrapers. After that I went around Covent Garden to get some gourmet ice cream (loved it) and crepes (good) and watched a street performer put his entire body through a tennis racket. Then we wandered over to see Matilda the Musical. I liked the book better.

But I am tired. I'm not sure if it is all the walking, only sleeping six hours a night, or remnants of jet lag, but I am tired. I wish I could just keep going, but I may need to slow down a bit. But it's London, and there is so much to see and do and I now have the chance.

Regent's Park and zombies

Monday is a morning with classes and the dreaded early awakening. I arose with enough time to take a shower, which is always a win. After class, I attempted to find the company to get a Russian Visa at but without much success. I know where it is, I just couldn't get there in time and make it to the British Library for our field trip to see old books. It was a very tired day yesterday and that was reflected in how little amazement I had at these incredibly old texts. I was amazed and yet I was also in a bit of a daze. Luckily, after this trip I went by the Sherlock Holmes Museum and then just walked around Regent's Park, which was a much more relaxing occupation. It was a beautiful park and involved no effort from the brain whatsoever. It also stopped raining for the day, which made it all the more enjoyable.

Frankly, despite my love of intellectual engagement, I hit a point where I need a break, so I am currently doing laundry and going to Buckingham Palace later in the day before Matilda the Musical. It is nice to be up earlier and by myself just doing laundry. Just like drinking Coke, it seems to add a calming continuity to my life. As long as I can do my laundry, no matter where I am or what's going on, life is good. Or at least good enough.

Melanie has been progressing in her effort to make a movie about how to survive a zombie apocalypse in London. Regent's Park was excellent to shoot at and we filmed a zombie attack in the loo at the Sherlock Holmes museum as well. My character is very much what you would expect - practical but all for distancing myself from others in case they are turned to zombies. Melanie tells me this will be my downfall. It's raining again, so it won't be nearly as fun going to Buckingham Palace outside today as it was yesterday, but it will be in clean clothes.

Around the neighborhood

Sunday and I got up very late for church, but with enough time to look like I hadn't just fallen out of bed. I really liked Portuguese church, despite not understanding much of what was being said.

Afterwards, the rain finally stopped. And I thanked the heavens for deliverance. Outside, I finally got down the street to the Royal Albert Hall to take photos before heading to the Victoria and Albert Museum.

After two hours in there with only the Medieval and Renaissance sections completed I was kicked out at closing time. Wandering back to Hyde Park, I wandered more and finally returned to the flats in time for the fireside. Tomorrow night we are seeing The King's Speech.

Ikea World

Back in the flat after another two busy days and I feel the need to mention that the flat I live in is straight out of an Ikea catalog. Not the über-cute rooms in an Ikea catalog either. The spare minimalist aesthetic which is clean-cut and seems to resist any attempts to try to impose personality on it. Despite this fact, it is fun to live with so many girls.

Outside the flat, right across the street is Hyde Park, and I have only walked through it once. As soon as it stops raining for a bit, I do want to explore. But the cold rain seems to have an evil desire to kill whatever exploring impulses I have. I have persevered though and yesterday went to go see Westminister when we had a brief moment of sun. We didn't have time to do the Westminster Abbey tour, but I'm hoping to soon. We did sit in St. Margaret's Church and it was quite nice. After that we took the tube to King's Cross and went up to the train station. After mistakenly exploring St. Pancras (which was the train station used in the Harry Potter films) and taking many pictures, we discovered the sign that said "Platform 9 3/4." That being accomplished, we returned to the flat for a meeting.

This meeting was to received our church assignments for the time we would be in London. I was assigned to a Brazilian Portuguese-speaking ward. I speak German, a little French, and a little Chinese. The other three girls assigned to the same ward all have some Spanish knowledge. The only word I remember from when Mario and Will first came from Brazil is "Venha aqui" (Come here). I'm a bit worried since I may just be smiling alot at people and speaking in broken French. I really am going to have to pray before going.

Well, after this we went to "Noises Off" - one of the funniest plays in all time, in my humble opinion. It was great, despite our nosebleed seats. This beautiful play was succeeded the next day by Noël Coward's "Hay Fever" starring Lindsay Duncan and Jeremy Northam. Having been a fan of Jeremy Northam all of my life, it was great to see him act on stage and he was surprisingly funny in hos role as a diplomat. But on the whole, I thought "Noises Off" was funnier.

I also did get to a museum this morning, though I still have many many left to visit. I went to the Natural History Museum and got to explore something indoors. The mammals exhibit was excellent, though the dinosaurs were not nearly as good as the ones I saw in New York last week at the American Museum of Natural History. But I did get to see another blue whale replica, and will try to communicate without language skills tomorrow morning. I also got to go to dinner and hang out with friends tonight as a time to just get out.

Monet and Sweeney

I have been known to cry at Monets, and today was no different. It began with Wheatstacks in the Minneapolis Institute of Art and since then Impressionists have evolved into an ecstatic experience. I have always uncovered as much about my relationship with God and the universe in Church. Today, I went through the National Gallery's Impressionist section and Pissarro and Monet taught me more about myself than I have learned in a while. After a few hours of art, I felt emotionally drained and somehow lifted up in a way. But enough of the art euphoria. Just looking at lumps of paint that have created an image from the mind of a man. These men might have died, but their thoughts and images live on as they will forever. Even the pictures that were destroyed are never fully lost, but will live in the mind of an artist, in the memories and thoughts that can never be destroyed. But even after we are able to express all the beauty of thoughts in words, what are they all but gifts from God. What can I do then but then try to improve everything I write, draw, think, or say to make it beautiful for Him.

Well, those were some of my random thoughts before going to Trafalgar Square then seeing Sweeney Todd with Imelda Staunton and Michael Ball. It was a beautiful production and the odd thing was is that I imagined myself sitting next to someone I knew who wasn't there. Andrea was on one side, but the empty seat on the other, I would sometimes turn to wanting to share, but no one was there even though it seemed like they were. My mind does some of the strangest most beautiful things.

First day in London

Rain might often slow things down but when there is the whiff of exploring a new city, new dreamed-of museums and monuments, and seeing what can only be seen in photos rain is ignored and suffered through. I have been going strong since 5:30 am London time. It is now 00:22 of the next day. But what a day! The horrid part was finished quickly with moving my full 80 L backpack, rolling carry-on, and shoulder bag from Northfields to just south of Hyde Park in the rain. About a mile of walking in the rain was slow torture. Then I sat outside for 30 minutes waiting for someone with keys. But after that it was much better. By noon I had unpacked and completely organized my things and purchased groceries. After that there was only the British Museum! The first of many trips. Then a quick stop at Westminster for some very wet pictures and back to the flat before the theatre. Traveling Light at the National is what we saw but we intended to see Noises Off at the old Vic. We did some quick walking after getting off at the wrong station a ways away. But apparently they moved it to another theatre near where we first were but the National was close. I also got turned around on a station going to the British Museum. Traveling Light was about the beginning of Jewish Cinema and the first man who made a cinematic montage. A play about Russian Jews and film? Sounds about my cup of tea! It was nice with a bit schmaltz. But to top it all off I finished with some great fish and chips (fish were top notch and chips were decent). This in addition to the two large samosas for lunch, two Clif Bars for breakfast, two Belgian Waffles, and lots of candy at the National completed a day of British eating. Not too much different from Iceland. Maybe I just usually eat European type foods anyway. I really found food so easily unlike many other people. Anyway, about to collapse before another day.

After traveling for many days I finally arrived in London with an aching sore body and feet (I was carrying my bag backpack for a while). It was a fabulous trip despite any complaints I might have had. I got to go to New York and freaking Iceland. But enough about that. I am in a hostel and can hear BBC through the wall. Everyone listens to it here! I won;t just be one of a crazy minority, and if I am it will be because I am American and Americans are crazy. I wandered around Reykjavik and spent three whole hours at a spa either in the geothermal lagoon, sauna, or steam room. My foot (the one with stitches just out) did not like it, but who cares! Anyway six hours of sleeping will now commence with the tube running in the background (I love traffic noises to get me to sleep).

Packing is something that I try not to think about but just do, like a packing robot. But as I was rummaging through and recategorizing everything I owned yesterday, I was shocked out of my robotic state. I found a ziplock bag of pills. Thinking back I remembered I put this bag together as a prop for a play two years ago, but the sudden sight of it reminded me by of the play but of when I was younger and used to take all these pills. I had hung onto them, especially the psychotropic meds, in case I fell back into old habits, old insanities, and old illnesses. I don't like to think and remember all the past horrors. Selective amnesia is the best way to describe how I look at the past. I try to remember the good parts without accessing all the cruelties, craziness, and confusion that was my life for so many years. Packing strips away that selective amnesia. As I get out everything from corners of closets and behind books on shelves, I run into remnants that I have saved from my past. I chose to keep all these things because they meant something an remind me of times and places that meant things, but now they sometimes jar. In the bag of pills are antibiotics and some other medical drugs but also antidepressants and anti-psychotic drugs that were the only drugs that could make me sleep for a year. I would stay up all night because I couldn't sleep. The antidepressants were pills I took twice a day for many years and seem as familiar as my own skin. I could probably draw them in my sleep. But it has been many years since I needed these drugs and even felt afraid that maybe one day I would fall back into horror that I try to never remember. I don't read my journals from when I was sick and I thought these drugs were gone long ago. But as shocking as they were they are a past that will always be as much a part of me as all the good memories. My past is mine and is in my hair, my heartbeats, my walk, my voice, my mind. So, though I will never take those drugs again either for help or for fun, they are a part of me and put them in a box.

Blue Whale

When I was much younger and lived in New Jersey, one of my favorite places to go was the room with sea life dioramas and a replica of a Blue Whale hanging from the ceiling in the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. This may seem a strange choice but I would have dreams about whales. I would be swimming in blue-blue water of a deep ocean without having problems breathing underwater and suddenly a grey wall would come up on the side of me. Slowly I drifted away and I would slowly translate the wall that took up my line of sight into a whale. I used to be very scared of deep water, especially looking down into progressively darker and darker water that continued seemingly forever. I never remember looking down into the depths of the ocean in my dream. I remember the water getting darker when the whale blocked out so much sunlight from my perspective, but then as I moved away the sun came out and this whale became not only a creature enormously large, but also surpassingly beautiful and peaceful. I am going back to the American Museum of Natural History to visit for a few hours on Monday and while I want to see the dinosaurs, I really want to see the whale. After moving away from New Jersey, I would dream about the whale and it replaced the greatness of my dream whale. But I haven't seen this whale in years and I will be seeing it in two days. I doubt it will even come close to the dream whale in the museum that has haunted my dreams. It will be nowhere near the wall of whale that brought so much peace. But what will it be like?

But for real . . .

I am going to start posting on my blog again for real. But don't believe me. You've all seen my lack of dedication in the past and how all my good intentions turn into time spent sleeping. But I am going to try this time.
This is my last week in Provo, Utah and it's raining. Surrounded by boxes in my room, I need to finish packing and writing a paper, but even better would be writing this blog post before I venture out to explore the world. And I am going to explore the world. I will be in London Spring term for Theatre Study Abroad for six weeks. All the shows and museums I'm going to see may be enough to stand up and dance a jig about, but there's more. Ekitzel is flying out from Shenzhen after the Study Abroad is over and we are going to explore Europe, Russia, and eventually wind our way to China. She is flying in on June 5th and we are spending until the 12th in London, at which time we will become increasingly bored (probably not) and will rent a car to drive to Edinburgh and then up to Orkney Island. I'm not sure if you have even seen Simon Schama's History of Britain, but if you haven't and you have 18 hours, you should. One of the first places Simon goes is Skara Brae, an ancient Neolithic village. It is older than Stonehenge! And it isn't a Henge! Anyway, we are going to see that then driving back down through Glasgow so we can return the car. Then it is off to Paris for 5 days where we will begin to speak with each other in German! Okay, maybe not. But we will eat a ton of great bread and cheese.
You are probably thinking that this sounds amazing, but I have yet to tell you about the train to Switzerland, hiking around Luzern, the overnight train from Zurich to Amsterdam, the Van Gogh Museum, Brussels and then following the Tour de France from Liege (home of great waffles) to Bolongue-sur-Mer, Berlin, Prague, Krakow, Moscow, St. Petersburg, taking the Trans-Siberian railway from Ufa to Irkutsk, seeing Lake Baikal, hiking around it, taking a boat onto it, and then finally taking the Trans-Siberian from Irkutsk to Beijing.
That's about it. Then I have to fly back to Utah, course marshal the Tour of Utah for a week, then move all my boxes to St. Louis. No biggie.
So, I'm packing all these things I own and won't see until September, and I'm really questioning whether I need them all. But these shoes I will need. They are the ones I will be walking the world with before it happens. They probably won't look so good when I get back.

A post

This is a post that was solely created for the sake of creating a post. I have not updated this neglected blog in a long while. So, instead of thinking of a creative concept to write about or a mundane occurrence that brought a slightly new perspective, I will be recording marginalia as if it mattered. It doesn’t.
The last two weeks I have had Phantom of the Opera singing inside of my head. Not constantly but often enough to start to listen a bit too much. I don’t think things originating inside of my head should be given more attention time than things in the outside world, but my attention often disagrees. My brain can amuse me for hours. Far too many hours.
Finally “Abide With Me” would occasionally supplant Phantom, but didn’t oust it entirely. It wasn’t until the Tony Awards on Sunday when the number “I Believe” from the Book of Mormon musical took over my brain. I have been slowly trying to listen to the other numbers from the musical, but haven’t yet.
I am supposed to be studying for the GRE. I’m not. Well, I am learning vocab, but that’s about it. I think I should give up on math. I haven’t studied any since I was 16 or 17. I lie about my age consistently, but that was more than a decade ago.
I am trying to catch up with all the cycling races that are currently on my DVR. I recently reduced my hours so I could sleep, so I’m still catching up from that. I have one stage left of the Giro d’Italia, four stages of the Criterium de Dauphine, and the first four stages of le Tour de Suisse. So, lots of television time, during which I will be learning lines.
I finished the last performance of The Merchant of Venice from Utah Shakespeare in the Park on Saturday and rehearsals for All’s Well That Ends Well started Monday. I have a small part, which means more time to study for the GRE (watch le Tour de France). I am usually a pretty good student, but since school ended in April, I have felt particularly unmotivated.
My supposed life goal is to get a doctorate in English, but I keep forgetting that with the sun shining and the pool beckoning with it’s chlorine fumes. Also the mountains just keep staring at me, daring me to climb them. And the sun is a temptress – seducing me to go outside where I can lay down all afternoon and sleep in the grass. My favorite shorts have grass stains.
So that is the conclusion of the meaningless nothings that should not be noted.

Best Conversation of the Month

Me: I wish Pizzeria 712 was open really late so I could get their pizza for my hypothetical pizza party.
Lawrence: You mean the one where it's going to be Mexican food or pizza?
Me: Yeah. . . Wait, how did you know about my hypothetical pizza party?
Lawrence: I checked your messages.

(phone was in my backpack during rehearsal)

Weddings

I thought my next blog entry would be a rant about the royal wedding and the pageantry involved. But after only watching a few arrivals, I was in awe over the utter pointlessness of ceremony, and felt sorry for the two fools smiling for the cameras. This cemented my plans to elope to Vegas and be married by Elvis. Vegas has great deals on hotel rooms and buffets. No planning needed. Some may argue that Vegas is commercial and crass, but after watching the 24-hour coverage of the royal wedding and seeing many couples spend thousands of dollars on the perfect wedding, I wonder what the difference is between Vegas and the thirty-million dollar picture-perfect, 700-guest, gourmet catered wedding on the beach in Maui complete with doves. Vegas is obviously commercial, but is commercial for the masses, compared to the selectivity that most people desire as an ambiance at their wedding. The white-robed bride is supposed to be detached from the problems that are going to be inherent in marriage. Weddings cost a fortune, but instead of being realistic as to their income, the couple (for a day or week) pretends to a much higher standard of wealth than they possess. I want weddings to start off in the seeming mundane reality. All romance stories end at the wedding or the consummation because after that everything gets “boring.” But everyday, especially those where nothing happens, is like the first morning of snowfall for the winter. It has happened before, and it will happen again. We will eventually come to hate snow for the extra time needed every morning to scrape and shovel it away, but for a few moments it is a sudden miracle. Like brushing your teeth with someone, or finding a good song on the radio – miracles are mundane. They are everywhere and all the time and every morning there is snow in May, we forget about miracles because who wants to wear a parka on top of a sunburn. So, instead of planning a wedding like many other girls do, I will dream instead about a crappy apartment in a complex populated by the Mexican gangs, whom I will probably get along with. I will dream about a sofa that was retrieved from a junk pile and sags in the middle and stacks of books all around because we don’t have shelves. I dream about having a horribly miraculous reality to share with someone.

Tragedy

I’ve been watching several Zhang Yimou movies and I wonder why do all Chinese love stories end in tragedy? The happiest couples end in death together, love consummated in spiritual eternity together. Somehow watching the tragic end of young couples moves us more than watching a couple live together, have children, have fights about toast and doing the dishes, and grow old. These couples eventually leave all drama with years they gain. Slowly they grow accustomed to everything they used to hate about each other. Toilet seats are now left up and toilet paper rolls are never replaced. Car attention lights are ignored and boxes are not flattened. It is all so mundane and boring. Each moment could be beautiful. Moment after moment leads to millions of moments and they all blend together and become unremarkable. But in tragedy, love is confined to only a few moments, so every moment is whirling kisses and dancing under rainbows in fields of poppies. Instead of taxes and grocery shopping, the only moments are those of incapacitating emotion. Beautiful moments are rare moments. If they happened every day, they would be as beautiful as taking the garbage out. But why isn’t taking out the garbage beautiful? Why can’t we slowly gather the plastic bag, then tie it up, hold it together and waltz out into the rain where we will run out to the can, then joyfully fling the bag into the can before we clang the lid down. Garbage duty would then be a wonderful thing.

Delaware Water Gap

We are off to the Delaware Water Gap!
Tents packed and rusty ancient stove,
Dad stops to buy marshmallows.
We make up songs about
Trash dumps and Jersey,
Driving up to the campsite raked clean
Blue sky and sun grinning
on our noisy machines.
Test driving the Nissan,
“Don't tell Mom!”
We finally settled down after supper
Slowly adults ordered children to bed
Fires began to be shared as adults sat
huddled by the light. My father
noticed me and with a broken promise
I stayed as he retired to the tent
and listened to stories with grave intent.
Free and alone, stranger's faces shone
and embers were almost blue
from heat against the cold night.
Wood burning and flickering light
then I gazed out into the dark
so still, no trucks or traffic distant.
And up above, more bright and clear
stars seemed much more near.
The last two and their homey voices
drift away from my fire.
Feeling the wildest breath of the trees yell at me
Now alone they stop whispering.
The star's stony silence and the trees
shouting in the night.
I sprint to join the wind in battering
the loud leaves and bowing grass
Trunks backed farther away, and when
I fell the earth warmed me from the day
Still I laid and the roaring earth beated out my time
the wind told me secrets from the trees
and then the stars squinted until I stood to see.
Trees quiet for a minute,
the stars tried to wish me near.
But the distance was too far
and the tree-wind fury too fierce.
I danced letting the wind steer
wild whirling in the tree-claimed night
until back to the fire I stared down.
Pounding from the ground.
Trying to be the new wild me.
Bowed head, asking the wind and the earth to let me stay.
Then slowly the stars dimmed with light
The trees were not dark but outlined with gray
The fire was low and the first bird call
heralded first daylight and the death of night.
Then I pulled my sleeping bag to the Nissan
And covered my head in a reclined driver’s seat
and could not dream.