It’s homework time!

So, it’s been a while. I’ve been writing… I just haven’t been posting it here because it’s all homework. The word homework used to fill me with dread. Funny how things change. Homework is a lot different these days. From one class, the assignment was to write 18 -22 lines of a first person narrative poem. From the second class, We are supposed to write a 10 minute short film script dealing loosely with the subject of “Things we didn’t understand as a kid”… I’m enjoying it and wishing I had more time to devote to it. My week is almost completely booked before it even starts.

Anyway, for the core writing class, the first part of the semester is devoted to poetry. These two little poems are what I submitted:

She is Fearless

She flies straight into the

Arms of the freeway

Blinding lights at blazing speed

Take her breath away.

She is fearless and wild

No looking back, watch her fly

Ask her to stay, she will throw

Her head back, laugh and say,

Don’t you see?

Wings don’t fit in a place like this

********

To Knit

When I was younger

I kept feeling like I might unravel

I blame boys for that mess.

So, I taught myself to knit.

When I was younger

I felt the weight of the earth

Creeping up through the floorboards

Pounding in my chest so, I

Held fast the weight of a skein

in my small hands and began letting go.

When I was younger

I was like a picture frame

All boundaries and edges until

A neat row of little knit stitches

Walked me back home and

Flipped a light on inside me.

When I was younger

I used to wonder what I should

Be, and how a simple length of

string can be made into almost anything.

So, I taught myself to knit.

*******

The funny thing  I’ve discovered is that, at least with these short assignments, no matter how good it is on paper… it’s the way it sounds when it’s read aloud to the class that gets the bigger response. What I mean is, what you’ve come up with and written down could be brilliant but if you aren’t a good reader… it flops. The immediacy of reading your work to people you are just getting to know is something I never anticipated. I’ve surprised myself with how nervous I get.

More to come, soon. I promise.

What’s new with you?

I found this etsy shop that is taking donations of handmade things to sell… all the proceeds go to support Doctors without Borders… Of course you can also shop for handmade things to support them. What a great idea.

This year has started off with all sorts of highs and lows. Right now, it’s pouring down rain and i keep thinking I should get dressed and be on my way but why? It’s a holiday. I’m still in my PJ’s.

So far this year, I have attended 2 memorial services. It’s a sobering way to start the new year. I was finally accepted into USC’s Master of Professional Writing program. Very exciting! Also, I have one MRI down and one more to go. It was not pleasant and I do not wish to repeat it but, I figure I’m half way there.

No new knitting to report as homework has already begun… maybe today, in all the rain I will find something to work on. I’m not quite sure what this day or year will bring. I do know it involves grad school and homework… Hopefully new friends and more adventure than doctor’s appointments.

Mix Tape 2010

I was having a conversation with a friend, recently, over knitting, of course… We were talking about our playlists and how important and necessary, a good playlist is. We promised to exchange playlists in the near future. Well, it’s 2010 already and as I sifted through my iTunes, the following list is what has been taking up most of my ipods’ time.

Some are songs that make me smile, make me want to get out and move. Others came to me at pivotal moments in 2009 and bring me back there every time I hear it. I love all of them for different reasons.

I’ve noticed a few things about myself in these songs. First of all, break up songs are just more fun to sing along with. Next, I really miss running because most of these songs mention something about wanting to run. I hate waiting for anything… the songs that aren’t talking about running are talking about having to wait. Finally, there is a pervading sense of happiness throughout. Several songs are about uncertainty but on the whole, there is joy.

Here they are:

Charmed Life by Joy Williams from “One of Those Days – EP”

“Don’t even let it fool you, we’re living in a charmed life, charmed life.”

Stolen by Dashboard Confessional from “Dusk And Summer”

“You have stolen my heart.”

-I think this one was after my first asthma attack and subsequent ER visit. I felt like someone had stolen my breath but not in a good way.

Safe by Britt Nicole from “The Lost Get Found”

“I’m so tired of turning and running away when love just isn’t safe.”

Break Me Out 2 by The Rescues from “Crazy Ever After”

“Break me out tonight, I wanna see the sun rise, anywhere but here, come with me, this could be, the only chance we get…”

-Who hasn’t had a day or week like this?

Never Say Never by The Fray from “The Fray”

“Don’t let me go, picture you’re the queen of everything as far as the eye can see under your command, I will be your guardian, when it’s all crumbling, I will steady your hand.”

-Suddenly it felt like I had become allergic to all of Los Angeles… but there was still, The Fray.

Closer to Love by Mat Kearney from “City of Black & White”

“She got the call today, one out of the gray and when the smoke cleared it took her breath away. She said she didn’t believe it could happen to me, I guess we’re all one phone call from our knees.”

-This came as I was recovering from my car accident.

The Chain (Live from Webster Hall) by Ingrid Michaelson from “Be OK”

“So glide away on soapy heels and promise not to promise anymore and if you come around again then I will take the chain from off the door.”

Always by Peter Bradley Adams from “Leavetaking”

“She’s familiar with the sound you make every time you go, always she waits for you… she leaves the lights on the tree and though the  new year has come every night they’ll stay on for you to see. Always she waits for you.”

-Summer vacation with the Family.

Incomplete by Alanis Morissette from “Flavors of Entanglement (Deluxe Edition)”

“I have been running so sweaty my whole life for a chance at a finish line, I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete…”

-I was always running sweaty when I played this at exactly a mile to go.

Darling Don’t Be Frightened by Ellery from “You Did Everything Right”

“Darling don’t be frightened, there’s a sea down in your soul, as deep as wide as soft and kind as earth is old, such an ocean when it finds you, it might swallow you whole, but if it does then darling, what a lovely way to go.

-This was on repeat as we waited for Mom’s biopsy results.

Marked In the Valley by J. Tillman from “Year In the Kingdom”

“Heaven and earth filled the room til the windows broke… imagine the end, gathered in praise the girls voices are fierce in their wonder with hands on my face, they say you finally came.”

-Spencer played this one for me on Christmas morning, loudly. Thank you for sharing!

Safe To Land by Jars Of Clay from “Closer (EP)”

“Getting tired from all this circling not much grace left on a broken wing, feel the wind trying to push me down it happens every time I get to town…”

-Jars of Clay never disappoints.

I Run to You by Lady Antebellum from “Lady Antebellum”

“I run my life, or is it running me, run from my past, I run too fast, or too slow it seems, when lies become the truth, that’s when I run to you.”

-This one was all over the radio, I just couldn’t resist.

Wild At Heart by Gloriana from “Gloriana (Deluxe Version)”

“That rebel moon is shining, those stars burn like diamonds I’ll follow you where you’re leading, to the first sweet taste of freedom, you got me running baby, wild at heart.”

-The 70’s power chords bring a smile to my face. I dare you to resist singing along.

Half of My Heart (with Taylor Swift) by John Mayer from “Battle Studies”

“I was born in the arms of imaginary friends, free to roam, made a home out of everywhere I’ve been, then you come crashing in…”

We Run by Sugarland from “Love On the Inside”

“Lips like gravity, pulls me under, reckless weather on his breath, smells like rain, hits like thunder, a storm is coming I got nothing left, so we run…”

-I couldn’t help myself! It’s just so fun to sing this one.

Big Blue Sky by Sandra McCracken from “Red Balloon – MP3”

“All of the walls of the rooms of the house are the usual shape and size but I’m just a person who can’t be for certain if I’m gonna fit inside. Oh I’ve been trying and trying but it makes me tired…”

-I’ve been listening to Sandra McCracken for a long time now. She just keeps getting better.

Everything’s Right by Matt Wertz from “Under Summer Sun (Bonus Track Version)”

“Windows down the night blows in, tap beat on the wheel as the tires spin, until we’re there crank the radio, we’ll join in with the songs we know.”

-I listened to this while Pasadena was on Fire. Fun summer songs, not so fun in reality.

City of Black & White by Mat Kearney from “City of Black & White”

“I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to tell you how I feel for the rest of my life, you don’t want to waste another minute when you realize…”

-All his songs have this sense of urgency, like he has to tell you right now.

Defying Gravity by Glee Cast from “Defying Gravity (Glee Cast – Rachel/Lea Michele Solo Version)”

“It’s time to trust my instincts, to close my eyes and leap. It’s time to try defying gravity.”

-I’ve never seen “Wicked” but I am a huge Glee geek. They take my breath away and make me laugh out loud, every time.

Gifted

Christmas and 2009, for that matter, flew right past me. I did capture a few moments.

December Speak Up Fundraiser

Actually, just before Christmas there was a Speak Up Fundraiser, which is where the cookies went. Speak Up is a great cause and you can learn more about it by clicking on the photo above. I believe we raised over $700 and raffled off a wii fit. Great Cause, Great Fun!

Then there was Mom’s Birthday. Mexican Food, Mariachi’s and Gigantic Margaritas. What more could the Birthday girl ask for!

Kate's Delicious Cheese Cake

Then Christmas came with Hollywood Snow on the tree which melted quickly because of the roaring fire in the wood burning stove, brand new Cowboy Boots for the little ones and a fort for when the grand kids come to play.

Welcome to the Fort.

There was also prime rib, garlic mashed potatoes, too much dessert and even more of the Charger game. Basically, it was not all close to what the First Christmas was like. Oh Well.

I actually had more fun making cards and christmas CD’s for the neighbors and then wrapping all the little things I made for all my incredible friends.

Brown paper packages, tied up with string... sing it with me!

More on what I made later…

Happy New Year!

Recharging My Batteries

True story. As I sit at my kitchen table, right now, my phone is charging, my camera battery is charging, my ipod is charging and this very laptop is also charging. If your lights are flickering, it’s probably my fault. Have you ever had one of those days (weeks, months, years) when all you can do is sigh and say to yourself, “Give me a break!“

I’m tired to say the least. I don’t know anyone who isn’t. But Christmas is coming and there is no escaping it. I spent this weekend close to home… and leaning into it instead of trying to ignore it. I’m almost done with all the Christmas knitting projects that I undertook this year. To be honest I started back around Halloween and then the car accident gave me lots of laying on the couch time that I would not have had otherwise.

Yesterday, I went for a long walk in the cold and finished a knitted christmas gift and watched “Dan in Real Life.” It’s probably one of my favorite movies. Today, I went to church and afterwards had breakfast with the girls at Hamlet where we hatch plans to solve all the worlds problems. Then, we wandered around Williams-Sonoma and looked at all the things we would make if we didn’t have to work for a living and our kitchens could actually hold all these crazy gadgets.

I came home and turned on Pandora to Christmas music. Then I decided my small fireplace and mantle should be in a magazine. I guess this blog will have to do for now:

My version of building a fire.

Cranberries, Glitter, and Beads

It’s sort of minimalist but it’s mine. After that, I pulled out my nifty apple core-er and made an apple pie. Last time I did this I forgot to sugar the apples before putting it in the oven. I brought it to the Thanksgiving Potluck at work… It went over surprisingly well, although, somewhat sour. This time, I think I got it exactly right. Sugar and everything.

Apple pie is best for breakfast.

It’s cooling as I write. Yum.

So, that was my weekend. I am breathing easier now. And my trusty laptop is the only thing left recharging.

Maybe wielding a pairing knife over 8 granny smith apples forces you to be more in the moment… Maybe the smell of pie baking and warming the house helps me pay attention to myself… Maybe seeing the light at the end of a long list of projects makes me have more confidence in the other long lists I have yet to tackle… I think I will save that for Christmas Break, only two weeks away…

My College Try

So this is the Statement of Purpose that I submitted to USC…

I was four steps into the crosswalk, on my way to deliver paperwork to the registrars’ office, when a car made a left turn and sent me flying. It happened so fast. What I remember is sort of cartoonish and fragmented. It comes to me in flashes and still frames. The first thing I saw was the grill of the Honda. Then, the hood of the small silver car coming closer to my face. From a distance I heard myself screaming and I actually had time to think, “Is that me? It sounds so girly and high pitched. I didn’t know I was capable of making a noise like that.” Blue Sky. Black asphalt. More Blue sky. My bare feet flying over my head. Later I realized that my shoes stayed planted exactly where I had been standing as I flipped through the air, bouncing twice before landing on my left hip and shoulder.

“Get down on the ground!” I had popped back up once I realized that the car had, in fact, stopped. “You were hit by a CAR! Get down on the ground!” Two witnesses came running toward me. I stood there, barefoot, shaking, and very certain that I would not be lying down in the middle of the street ever again. They sat me down on the curb, propping me up against a tree. Someone else went after my shoes and the paperwork that, only moments before, had been my job to deliver. The cops came quickly and took the driver aside while the Paramedics put me in a neck brace, strapped me to a backboard, and loaded me into the ambulance. Once inside the ambulance, the impossibly cute EMT did his job. He kept me talking.

“Can you tell me what happened? Is this where you work?” He was filling out his clipboard and watching me closely for signs of a concussion, “Is this your dream job? What would you do it you could do anything?”

“Are we really having a conversation about my hopes and dreams right now?” “Sure. Why not? What would you do?”

“I want to be a writer.”

“Really? Wow. This will certainly give you good stuff to write about tomorrow, won’t it? Maybe not tomorrow but soon.”

Once inside the emergency room, the Nurses scurried around me checking for signs of internal bleeding, brain swelling, and other fatal things I had not initially thought to worry about.

“Are you a registered organ donor?” the nurse with the clipboard asks.

“What?”

“On your driver’s license, do you have the little pink sticker that says ‘donor’?”

“Yes, why?”

“Do you have a will or living trust of any kind?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Next of kin?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who should we call in the event of your death?”

“Am I going to die today?”

“It’s a formality. I’m following procedure.”

The Doctor hurried in and was briefed by the nurse with the clipboard about my accident. He looked down at me, as I was still immobilized, and said, “Gosh, someone was really looking out for you today. This could’ve ended very differently for you. Do you understand how lucky you are?”

“Well, I’m not finished yet.” Was all I could think to say. I never had any doubts about whether or not I would be able to walk out of the hospital that day blissfully unaware of the pain I would experience in the weeks and months to come. More often than not, it takes facing the risk of life and death to point me in the direction of the things I’ve always wanted but am too afraid to ask for.

I am particularly interested in the integration of faith and storytelling. The way we talk about our lives directly correlates to the size and shape of our lives. I believe that boring stories lead to boring lives and the other way around. My other interest is women’s issues and relationships. More than anything, women love to talk. Stories about what makes us tick as individuals are riveting and undeniably stranger than fiction. My plan for Graduate School is two-fold. I want to write, within the Creative Non-Fiction genre, about the power of storytelling as it relates to finding our identity as individuals and teach others how valuable this sort of self-expression is.

If I were to write a book today, I would title it, “The Art of Exaggeration, How Writing Saved My Life.” Exaggerating is considered a gift in my family. It has always been a prerequisite at the dinner table. Every night, we were expected to tell a story. Not just any story. It had to be a great one. It had to make us all laugh or cry or see the world differently. Laughing was the most fun and actually the hardest part to achieve. My family is one of the toughest audiences I’ve ever encountered. Over the years, I’ve developed a gift for communicating concepts and bringing “High Art” down to earth. Sharing about my own journey as well as the craft of writing and helping others tell the story of their life is the most rewarding kind of life I can think of. Even when my life is on the line and I’m told I can choose anything.

graduate school admissions essay

It’s been a while. Studying for and then taking the GRE was more all consuming than I had anticipated. But, It’s finally over. I did live through it. Now that the application has been sent, it’s out of my hands. I hate waiting. I feel like I’ve been waiting a lot lately. Last week I spent a whole day waiting for the Gas Company. Today, I will be on jury duty… waiting for my turn to go home. I know, I know it’s my civic duty… but you know what I’m talking about when you got that summons in the mail.

Actually, the admissions essay really had me stumped for a while. The question was purposely vague. It turned out to be a good exercise. It’s actually 2 different questions that had to be double spaced and fit within 3 to 4 pages. Most writers write whole books about the subject. After much writing and deleting, I came up with a rough draft. Really rough. After sending it off to friends who are smarter and have much better grammer than I, we came up with something that sounded more like me and less like I was trying too hard. Thank you, editors!

Well, here it is:

Describe your development as a writer and as a person of faith:

“Hi, I’m Amie, the wedding coordinator here. Today’s your big day. Congratulations. I’m just going to clip this microphone on you. It goes up high, just under the knot of the tie like so.” I clip the microphone in place and quickly slip the rest of the microphones battery pack into the groom’s breast pocket. “We can hide the rest right in here. It is on, but muted. I am the only one with control of that button. This means you do not need to touch it, just forget it’s there. Please don’t touch it. Only the parts of the ceremony where you are expected to speak will be amplified for everyone to hear.  I promise. I’ll be standing right here the entire time. As soon as it’s over and you walk back down the aisle, I’ll come take this off so that it won’t be in all the pictures. Ok? Any questions?” In two years as a wedding coordinator, I gave this speech to more than four hundred grooms. It sounds like I’m exaggerating. I’m not.

I find one of two things when sliding my hand inside a grooms’ breast pocket. Either it’s hot like a sauna and his heart is thumping like a rabbit or, it’s freezing inside and there is almost no movement at all, which leaves me wanting to check for a pulse while I’m in there.

After giving this speech to one groom in particular, on a hot July afternoon, his face went white. He was one of the cold grooms. As his groomsmen were toasting him with flasks and joking about his last few minutes of freedom he looked down at me and whispered, “This thing doesn’t record thoughts, does it?”

“Of course not. It amplifies them,” I shot back. Maybe it was the extreme heat or the intense stress to get this couple married on time, either way, I had temporarily lost my filter, my patience and this groom looked like he might lose his lunch.

“That was a joke. Obviously it wasn’t funny. Not funny at all. I’m sorry. Why don’t you have a seat,” I waved the minister over and checked my watch. “Would you sit with our groom for a minute while I get him some water? He looks like he might pass out.” I hurried toward the kitchen for a bottle of water and a minute to myself. I reached in the fridge, took a few deep breaths and grabbed the water for our faint groom. As I hesitated to leave the air conditioning for the heat of the lawn where the guests were taking their seats, I asked God a loaded question, “Every groom acts like his wedding is a big surprise, like he was tricked into doing this by a woman who needs this marriage more than him. Are you this nervous about me?”

My faith came at an early age. My mother became a Christian in the delivery room, waiting for me to be revived. We were both given life that day. My father followed suit a few months later and as a child of five, I prayed the sinners’ prayer from my bunk bed. Secretly, I’ve always associated salvation with the smell of clean sheets. As a wedding coordinator, the concept of the Church as the Bride of Christ was not lost on me. My problem was I hated weddings. After four hundred nervous grooms, my concept of God was considerably smaller than I’d care to admit.

A few minutes later, I took my place at the audio board, the ceremony began, the bride walked down the aisle and the guests stood up to watch. I kept my eyes on the groom. I watched his pale face flush pink as he realized that she was there for him alone. Somewhere in the middle of “The Wedding March,” I heard God’s voice rushing in like wind in the trees, “I am never nervous. I want this more than you can know. I always have.” If salvation smells like clean sheets, redemption sounds like the “Wedding March” and this is why I write.

I’ve been writing ever since I could wield a crayon. It’s how I make sense of my funny little world. Writing reminds me that the earth is round and I am on it, not the center of it. As a child, writing was my escape, a way of using big words when my own small voice didn’t feel like enough. As an adolescent, writing allowed me the space to ask those angry questions of God and search for His answers. Now, as an adult, writing is my way of recording the faithfulness of God and giving others the space and vocabulary to tell their own stories. The Bible tells us that our language has the power to give life or take it away. In either case, the ways we choose to express ourselves have the power to change the world. I plan on being a part of that change for a long time.

So, here I am. I climb up mountains. I run down sidewalks. I walk to work. I sit in traffic. I knit. I take pictures. I plan girls’ nights and art days. I cook, although cooking is used loosely, it’s more like inventing. I instigate the fun at church, at work, at home with friends. I email. I blog. I pray. I paint furniture. I sweep the floors. I lock my doors. I speak. I listen. I read. I write everything down. I make myself at home. I’m learning to love. I have issues. I am a work in progress. I continually try to do more than two things at once. Sometimes this is calamitous. Sometimes it’s genius. Always, it’s an adventure.

This adventure has not come without a fight. Balancing out what I understood to be God’s call on my life, my love of storytelling, with what the church recognized as ladylike behavior has been a dangerous and sometimes lonely road. Over the years, one thing has remained constant and clear, God’s love for his people is not an exaggeration. A few years back, I wrote down this prayer. I find myself returning to it again and again.

“Father, the business of living out my faith is a call to action, not to mention, a gift. And you are taken with this chase. You pursue me, hem me in and there is nothing in me dark enough that you aren’t already intimately acquainted with. Even when I fall on my face and learn my lessons the ‘Karate Kid’ way: I say, ‘Make me strong’ and you say, ‘Gee, my car needs waxing. Here’s how I like it, Wax on, wax off…’

Even when I stop sleeping and proceed to wonder why I’m so exhausted. Even when I ask too many questions and don’t listen to your answers. Even when I start thinking that you can’t possibly be right about me. Even when I expect the whole wide world from everyone, including myself, and nothing from you. Still you are unchanging. Still you are wooing me over miles and miles of unpaved roads and where it all leads, only you know. And yet, against all common sense, I’m still breathing and fully aware that even my breath is a gift from you. In you, I have been given everything I could possibly need. Like the Psalm says, ‘nothing is beyond you.’ Even me.”

I’m not exaggerating.

catch your breath

The following is the promo video for this year’s SHE Retreat weekend. This is sort of a working draft, but I think it captures the theme. After all the fires here in Los Angeles, Catch Your Breath takes on a whole new meaning.

I was sitting in Chapel yesterday when they read from Isaiah who says over and over again, Do not be afraid, I am with you and I will never let you go. That’s my own paraphrase. I took a deep breath after I heard those words. I may not feel like I have much control, if any, of the things that come my way, but I know WHO does.

ENJOY

my aha moment

I was doing an image search today for a project but got completely sidetracked when I came across these:

This one made me literally laugh out loud:

I can’t seem to figure out why it’s showing up twice. But no wonder it never feels like there are enough hours in the day and there are always 200 projects on my plate. It dawned on me, We (females)  MAKE IT LOOK TOO EASY!

Thank You, Patty Griffin

Lately I’ve been listening to Patty Griffin. Her voice is velvet when she sings of leaving and returning home.

Today I opened all the windows in my tiny home and made a mess in my ongoing attempt to refurbish an old dresser. I sat on the floor, set my hands to work and remembered how the smell of paste wax and saw dust takes me home. Always. My strongest memories of that old house we grew up in, on the top of that hill, was under construction, being repaired or getting a new coat of paint. The house was always growing and changing. I guess we all were.

I have this recurring dream that I wake up in the morning and walk down the hall only to find a door that I had never noticed before. I turn the knob to find a completely empty new room. I love this dream. Other dreams, not so much. I’ve been finding that some of my dreams race out past my own life span. This is problematic. It’s really hard to fathom a world that we can never be a part of. I hope I’m not the only one who thinks these sorts of thoughts.  Did Amelia Earhart understand the legacy her passion and drive would leave? How could she have a spare moment to think such a thought, what with all her travel planning…  Wasn’t it Eleanore Roosevelt that said, “Well behaved women rarely make history”? In the movies, these women are portrayed with wild, short hair and a strong jaw. Usually, the focus of the story is how many men are telling her that she can’t, and just before the credits role, she does. To everyone’s astonishment, she does.

I went to see Julie & Julia yesterday. It’s comforting to think that maybe the reason Julia Child took up cooking in the first place is that she loved it and she needed something to do- something to bring meaning to her days.

I have these little meetings with myself. I take minutes and pass motions and vote about the action items. I always seem to get my way. This works out well for me.

For example: What color to paint the dresser?

What bills get paid with this paycheck?

What will my next knitting project be?

What will I be when I grow up?

The truth is, I’ve known the answer to that last one for quite some time. Maybe all my life, at least as long as I’ve been able to hold a crayon. I will tell stories.

The trouble is, I keep bringing back the question just to make sure. This question always leads to clarifying questions: Don’t writers, um, write alone? If I say yes to writing, am I committing myself to a life of solitary confinement? Why would I say yes to that? And, there is something I’ve been noticing: it’s not enough to write ABOUT life… you actually have to GET a life. I have trouble balancing the two. I’ve been noticing, I really only work at 2 different speeds. A full tilt breathless gallup and a restless sleep. I seem to be lacking a cruising altitude.

On the bright side, Patty Griffin is promising to “stay by me when it don’t come easy.”

Thanks Patty.