summer! plus: what do we really want?

Ah, the perks of living in this part of the country at this time of year. Hot sun, heavy air (am I the only soul alive who kind of likes humidity?). Humming cicadas, glinting fireflies. The vibrant, almost oppressive greenness of every living thing. As long as I remain well-equipped with bugspray, sunglasses and the occasional coating of SPF 15, I have no complaints.

It's a good thing I'm a summer baby, because we're about to move where it's even hotter, though only a hundred miles away. Funny how mountains and valleys do that, huh? Yes, yes. It's official. We bought a house, like grown-ups do. Chattanooga, here we come. Please, please, please let your restaurants be vegetarian-friendly, your proximity to Georgia less mystifying over time,* and your library as fabulous as Blount County's.

The south shore of Chattanooga in the summertime. Photo from this site.

{*When I was a kid in Kentucky, Georgia was this big, far-away place where they made Coca-Cola and had the Olympics, once. We would drive through it on our way to Florida every summer, and the majority of my opinion of the state went as such: Takes forever to get to. Takes forever to go through. And now, I'll be living, like, ten miles from the state line. This blows my mind, for some reason.}

Speaking of the South and the summertime, this past week at camp was likely the most fun I've ever had there, which, after 7 summers of working on staff and three summers of counseling, is saying A LOT. I mean, I spent one whole day dressed, to some degree, as a pirate. What's not to love about that?

Another highlight of this past week was finding myself in several conversations, both with teenagers and adults, about YA. At lunch one day, a fellow counselor mentioned something about Twilight, and how she had to attend a meeting on the basics of the story, so as to better assimilate to the people she works with in Eastern Kentucky who talk of NOTHING ELSE. I am not kidding. I asked her what she thought, and she said, essentially, "Meh, the first book was a pretty good read. About all I expected, you know, since it's just a young adult book."

Boy howdy, did the hair on my neck ever prickle at that. I said, "Hey, now. There is plenty of young adult lit that is not only better crafted than Twilight, but also better for humanity and far more important. Like The Hunger Games, for instance." And I was off. There was a girl at our table who'd read the books, too, and she nodded vigorously, smile plastered, as I talked about how awesome and integral and significant those books are. I wore my t-shirt the next day and started even more conversations.

My HG t-shirt, pretty much.
I bought it at a Borders in Chicago.

I noticed something else, too: there are a lot of teens out there who really disliked Mockingjay. One of the girls last week described it, pretty much, as "the author going crazy and killing characters for funsies." I'd heard this before, from a couple other kids, and it spurned a thought: What do teenagers really want out of the books they read? A squirmy, sick corner of my mind wants to say, "Flowers and bunnies! Cute boys and no bad things, ever!" But I know that's not true. When I was 16, that's not what I read. I was obsessed with Lord of the Rings, then. The only bunnies in that were food, and the only flower I remember was the elanor. There were no cute boys, in particular (unless you count Aragorn? Faramir?), and plenty of bad things.

Him?

I don't know what it is. I won't claim that Mockingjay was an enjoyable and fun romp through literature, by any means, but it was very good. Perhaps I am just a cold heart, but if you've been reading a series about rebellion and war, what do you really expect to find at the end of it?

Anywho, I suppose that's all for today's soap-box. What do you think kids really want to read? Or, heck, adults, too. What do any of us really want in a book? Personally, as much as I enjoy light fare and humor, I think I love the difficult stories more. Should I not? It makes me sad to think that some folks only want a fair-weather friend out of what they read.  I need both sides of the coin.

i make lists. and have revelations.

[First of all, holy cow is it beautiful outside today.  Today is not a stay-indoors-and-write day, it's a go-outside-and-read day.  Today is the sort of day that leaves your skin smelling like sunshine and dirt, even if you haven't been rolling around in either.  Dang.  Alas, I am indoors.  Why does my computer screen have to be so hard to read in natural light?  There's something wrong with that.]

Rory:  I'm not entirely sure what to do about you, Jess.
Let me put it in a list, and I'll get back to you.
(Not her brightest idea.  Or an actual quote.)

I am a list-maker.  Not necessarily in the Rory Gilmore, pros-and-cons way (though I do get like that sometimes), but more in the daydream-y way.  I sneak pieces of scrap paper to make tiny lists at work all the time.  I often want them to be about the story I'm writing, but that could get real embarrassing real fast (I cannot keep tabs on all my lists.  They have the propensity to fall on the floor and get discovered by my co-workers).  Usually, they are about my dreams and goals.  Sometimes, they're just things I'm thinking about.  An especially great one from this past Saturday was "Reasons Why Today is Awesome."  It included:

1.  Laughing with Christy (over the voicemail she'd left me in a Baltic accent- no wonder she's my friend).
2.  Signing with Chester (a deaf man who comes into Mast all the time).
3.  Meeting Jose (who used to interpret both ASL and Spanish in South Texas).
4.  High-fiving the guy who works at Lenny's.
5.  All the cute dogs!  (Mast is a pet-friendly establishment, and I love that.)
6.  Talking with Dani on the phone for an hour and a half (which happened before work, not during, in case you were concerned about my ethic).

Today, my list is of the to-do genre, and it looks like this:
1.  Apply to volunteer at this library I love so much (happening right now!).
2.  Do a lot of thinking about where I want to be in the next few months.

It's a concise one.  It's an exciting one.  God has been teaching me a lot about myself, and I feel like a door is opening somewhere, even though I can barely tell what shape it is.  This whole I-know-Katniss madness has pretty quickly deteriorated into a why-do-I-suck-so-bad? pity fest.  I mean, it kind of hurts.  It shouldn't, but it does.  I know that girl (and she's not the only one, either), and even if I am not remotely as talented, I still grew up with the same interests.  Dreams.  Passions.  And then I got scared.  I stepped back and let it go on without me because I never, ever, believed in myself enough to take any steps toward success.  And by success, I don't just mean playing Katniss in the Hunger Games movies.  Success for me would be, say, actually writing this book and then querying agents (which I never thought I would do).  Or, better yet, getting actively involved in a theatre group.  Why have I let that slide?  Did I really think that I would no longer enjoy acting after college?  Well... yeah, I did.  I did think that.  I remember coming to terms with myself over "not being in plays anymore."  Ridiculous.

The other night it finally dawned on me:  way to slap God in the face.  He made me to love theatre.  He made me to love writing.  He made me to love sign language and deaf culture.  He made me to love camping ministry.  And not just to love them, but to actually do them!  And by ignoring these things, I am the one who is missing out on what He has in store for me.  I used to be ashamed of the impracticality.  I used to think, Why do I thrive on things I will never be able to do?

Well, who am I to say that I'll never be able to do them?  Or that I won't just do them anyway, regardless of the success of others or my fear of failure?  Did God not shape all these desires in me on purpose?  (Yes!  Yes he did!)

And as I was pondering this the other night, it all came together:  words.  God has given me a gift (small though it may be) of using words.  Spoken, written, signed, and even those expressed by Him.

So, yes.  I have been scared.  I have stepped back.  I have never fully believed in myself.  I have been complacent in doing other things.  And you know what?  I'm done with that.  If you haven't noticed, I am a strong believer in the unfolding purposes of the Lord.  And some amazing things can really happen when I let myself get out of the way.  Friends, if you will hold me accountable to getting back into theatre, taking writing more seriously (because what if the Lord really does want that from me?), improving in ASL, and, most importantly, spending more time with my Bible, I will be grateful.

Who am I to ignore it?

[I still plan to write my completed work out by hand in journals and then hide them in the attic, though.  That won't change, even if I do get published.]

prized possessions, a shell with shoes on, and some fancy fiddlin'.

Perhaps I changed the look of my blog AGAIN because I wanted to see it as retro blueish... wallpaper.  I don't really have an explanation for this, other than not having found the design that I Absolutely Love yet.

My Katie is here, and we had a well deserved girls night out.  Girls evening out, really.  I finally bought a thing I've had my eyes on for quite some time:

Coconut shell earrings.  I ended up with two pairs, actually.  A light and a dark.  Only $5 each!  And I was all like, yeah I want two!  Then I sat down in front of the full length mirror-- right there in the store-- and wiggled and fumbled until I was finally able to work those fastening posts.  It's not like you can see anything back there.  It was kind of like putting in contacts for the first time.  Hopefully I'll master these the way I mastered that.  Also, Fizz is a really neat place.  Go check out that link.  Jewelry/funky stuff heaven.  Hmm.  Kind of like the rest of Market Square.  But I am not complaining about that.

So, here are 7 things I'm loving right now:

1.  This video:

MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.

Thank you, Leslie.

2.  Coconut earrings.  Check.

3.  Our new kitten, of course.  And the fact that said kitten likes to sleep under the covers.  And that he is nursing on my pinky finger right now.  

4.  Dahlonega, GA.  The name "Dahlonega," which comes from a Cherokee word for gold, is not pronounced, "daluh-NAY-ga," which is what I would have thought, but "dah-LOHN-ega," which is so much more pleasing to my ears.  Everyone in North Georgia is rolling their eyes at me right now, but I wanted to share my delight anyway.

5.  Poetry.  I want to read more of it.

6.  All the music Crooked Still has ever made.  Sampling, here:

7.  The way I feel on fall nights.  Romantic.  Adventurous.  Nostalgic.  Excited for nothing in particular.

That's all, I suppose, though surely I could go on for hours.

september is for lovers. of september.

I cannot lie, I love September.  It is an excellent month, and even better since I no longer have to associate it with the beginning of the school year.  But, even as a kid I enjoyed September.  It was always the best month to go to the lake, especially at the end, when it was almost October and everyone else on the planet had resigned to it being fall, but it was still warm enough outside to go on the boat.

Also, if you've known me for more than half an hour, you probably know that I love the changing of seasons, especially the big ones. Summer to fall, winter to spring.  I can't get enough of it.  I can't imagine living in a place where it was always winter or always summer, or even always spring (though I'm sure there are worse things than eternal spring).  Maybe I would enjoy living somewhere where it's always fall, but I don't think that's deciduously possible.

I do love fall.  Apples, though not always my favorite to eat, are a delight to see and smell.  And pumpkins. Please.  Gourds in general just tickle me, but pumpkins win because they are sweet and goopy and seedy and fun to carve.  A butternut squash might be more difficult to carve.  Also, our wedding cake was pumpkin chocolate chip, and pumpkin chocolate chip is my favorite.

Don't even get me started on the orange and red and yellow leaves.  I remember in college getting to see a friend of mine, who had grown up in Africa, experience autumn colors for the first time.  It was an all-around giddy day for me.  It's kind of sad here in Knoxville that no one sees orange for the great color that it is.  All people see here, when they see orange, is UT football.  Gross.

I guess that's all I wanted to say today.  I could rant a little more about Knoxville's obsession with UT, but maybe I'll save that for later.

I'm going to go buy some new clothes and hole-up to read/write some where, if I'm lucky.
Oh, and if you see a little black and white cat with a brown and green polk-dotted collar, that's Adelaide.  Tell her to come home.

a handful of thoughts, to get you started.

     Writing one's first (actual) post on a new blog is highly intimidating.  I can't decide what to say.  I feel like a lot more happens in my life than I can capture in any sensible, creative way, to post here for others to enjoy.  I suppose I could just start with a handful of thoughts.


1. I am very happy with springtime.  We agree with one another.  I have always loved seasons, relished in the changing world every three months (especially the dramatic change every six), and have been known to say that my favorite season is generally whichever one comes next.  But there is something special and different about spring, and its segue into summer.  Nothing beats the summer.
   (Just wait, I'll be saying the same thing about the autumn, come September.)


2.  I am also very happy that I do not have any real allergies, especially after learning that Knoxville is the #1 worst city to live in at this time of year.  Oh, and Louisville was #2.  I suppose it just follows me around. My apologies to everyone who has been affected by this.


3.  Moving into a new house is way more fun, I think, when the house is small and out in the country, than a giant thing in the suburbs.  Just to clarify: we are renting, not buying.  The property we're moving to (including our landlords' house and their nine acres) is for sale, but we'd never be able to afford it, not for another 20 years at least.  I'm sure I will have much more to say about this house, once we're really there.  I had a blast this past week, just going by myself to exist there for a few hours at a time.  It seems so much like a place you'd go to visit, and it's surreal to think of us actually living there.


4.  I brought several boxes of things to the house the other day, and I found some very entertaining old journals of mine.  I sat and read my old thoughts, laughing throughout.  Some of these things made NO sense whatsoever.  Some were leftover notes from classes and sermons.  Some were from creative writing assignments about which I had completely forgotten.  The last one I opened was from the summer of '07.  It had a "Sliced Bacon" sticker on the front (remember those?).  I opened it, and saw my first-ever musings of the short story (turned not-so-short story) I've been working on for months now.  I SQUEALED.  If Joshua had been there, he would have thought I'd gotten crawled on by a tarantula or something... except I was happy about it.


5.  I love how writing something makes me feel like I've been reading a book.  Several times in the past day or so, I've stopped and thought, Wait, what is it that I've been reading? before realizing that I haven't been reading anything at all (that I haven't written first), for weeks.  This is not to say that what I've been writing is any good.  I've been enjoying myself with it, but I doubt anyone else would take much interest.  Also, it's one of those things that has been rolling around inside me for so long, I feel painfully nervous about it, and over-protective.  It's that deformed, decomposing infant-mutant, gnawing at my ankles, that Dr. Malone used to talk about in class.  The idea is that it won't let you alone until you fix it, give it a face and life.  This, my professor used to say, is what creative writing is all about.  Half of me wants to ask everyone I know, "Would you read something if I wrote it?" but the other half begs, "Please, don't look at it, just let me hold on to it.  You won't like it, anyway."


5.a.  One other thought about writing:
      It seems to me that the more excited I get, the more inspiration/funny connections I see, everywhere.  For instance, I'm writing about a valley, and then we found this house... which is in a valley.  One of the characters is named Violet, and then I saw a small tub of violet fragranced balm at Earth To Old City, and, nerd that I am, took it as a sign (and bought it, of course.  It smells very slightly of grape slushies).  Then the actual violets came out, and I couldn't help but think of them as a sign, too, or at least a little pat on the back, a nod of approval, or a tug in the right direction.
     But the wildest connection I saw was the trout lily.  In the story, I had already written about a plant with a yellow flower that wouldn't bloom for seven years.  On Easter Sunday, I discovered trout lilies, which have been around since the dawn of time, probably.  I associated them immediately with the aforementioned plant in the story, based solely on appearance.  Then, after researching, I learned that their yellow flowers don't bloom for the first seven years, either.
     Oh my. 


     So, there's a little bit about me.  I like spring.  I like writing.  I laugh at myself.  I am easily excitable, especially concerning make-believe.  I see meaning in a lot of meaningless things.  I am insecure.  I am trying to be more open.  Just don't expect any masterpiece out of me, or for anything I ever write to be published, and I'll be okay.  :)