Our friend Allison wrote about her thoughts on "silence." The word "silent" automatically makes me think of a few quotations:
"Silence is golden."
"Be still and know that I am God."
"Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright."
God tells us to be quiet, to be still, to be silent so that His voice can be heard and so that we may feel his presence.
Nick and I went to Birmingham with another couple to see the Pat McGhee Band record a DVD at a bar/studio called "Work Play" - hold on I'm getting back to the "silence" topic. Before the start of the show, when recording would begin, Pat came on stage and told all of us (about 300 people) that their will be times to yell and dance and that their will be times we need to be completely silent for songs focusing on the acoustics and voices of the singers. We practiced - when the "other dude" lifted his hand we all cheered and when he made a STOP signal we were silent. The band opened with a very LIVE,very upbeat, and very exciting popular hit and 2 or 3 more like it followed. Everyone was having a wonderful time. I stood on a second level off of the floor level and leaned on a rail, looking directly at the band from about 30 feet away- out of the way of the cameras. It was perfect. I was loving it. I also watched as about 40 "younger" kids - probably freshmen from B.S or UAB did the sloppy sway and "bottoms up-ped" on drink after drink. Girls and guys were leaning on each other screaming into their ears to hear each other - not the band they "came to see." I watched Pat as he looked at his "fans" on the floor level and I thought to myself... "NO! look up here...Here are your real fans!"
Then the moment came about half way through the show where Pat explained he was going to sing a song about a dear friend of his who unexpectedly passed away. He wrote a song about his experience and he wanted to sing it for us. His mood changed from "upbeat and in charge" to that of "just a guy on a stage" who was singing about his loss. He said, "ok, this is the part where I am going to ask you guys to be silent." While he made his request the room was filled with laughs, conversation, and then 250 "shh's." He asked again, "Ok, here we go, are y'all ready?" and he began to strum the guitar. Silence fell, and not one minute into the song...it bounced.
In one place on the floor was the girl that begged the guy next to her to dance. In one corner was a guy explaining how he broke his arm to another guy. As one guy walked off the floor, up the stairs to go get another drink, he chunked his glass bottle in the can and we all heard it shatter. Another girl was drunk swaying back and forth with her drink in the air and with her other hand slapping her hip...I think she was trying to be sexy...to a song about death. I wanted Pat to stop and say, "Ok, it's not THAT kind of song." And then of course, right in the middle of the floor was Mr. "Straw Cowboy Hat I'm So Cool I Know the Words to This Song" guy. I was the "Look At Your Friends and Roll Your Eyes Because You Can't Believe People Don't Know How or Just Won't Be Silent While There is Something Important To Be Heard"... or in this case sung.
When the song was over, everybody went nuts, clapping and whistling and whoooing because they heard what the wanted to hear.
I didn't clap to that song. I wanted to be silent, and wait to hear more.
Dedicated to the PMB and to your friend in "Shine."
Thanks for an awesome show and can't wait to see y'all again.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I'll Tell You What Is Not Home...
So as you all know, my Love and I moved to a new place: our first "our place." We call it home. We ask "our house?" when agreeing on a place to meet and just about all of our close friends have stopped by for dinner, coffee, or a glass of wine. We have all of our belongings here. This is the place where we open our eyes in the morning and the place where we close them at night. We love the extra space. We love built-in-book cases and kitchen cabinets for days! We love the fact that we can yell at each other from separate ROOMS...not just up and over the bar that divides the kitchen from the dining room from the den from the bedroom. We love the fact that we use our couch now to sit and read for hours on end. We used to just not read and we watched movies sprawled out on the floor. We love watching movies in bed because "the big TV" has to go in our room because it is too big for the built-in-book cases. We love that we "feel" blessed at home because we are blessed in our home.
However, I'll tell you several things that are not home. First and foremost, it doesn't feel like home when my Love isn't here. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the times he runs to a friends house or out to play ball. I need down-time just like anyone. But the days his meetings at work drag till 9 or 9:30pm doesn't feel like home. Second, not being 4.5 minutes from the house I grew up in, away from my Mama and Tutters and Poi is not home. Now I am 20 minutes (equal to 8-9 days). Third, not being able to walk out of the front door and take a sunset jog down Fairview, around the park in front of FUMC, and up the hill on College Street. We traded that for a treadmill. I miss not being able to walk out of the back door and watch the Huntingdon Hawks play ball from our second story balcony. That balcony was also awesome for hot coffee and hot cigs. on a cold morning before the day really started. But we traded that for watching a lake with a fountain and I quit the cigs. Fourth, our bathroom has this weird "macaroni" smell...Ask Nick, I will literally wake from deep slumber and ask him..."Do you smell that? It's like macaroni." That eerie realization that this place wasn't REALLY made just for us. You know...everyone has a house, or a room, or a closet, or lover's t-shirt that smells like home. Needless to say, every minute I am in this place there is a mango candle burning away in our bathroom. Fifth, our neighbors wake up at 5am and do something to the beat of this weird, Indie/Indo (whatever)-persuasion-techno-dance music - ish- stuff. It just booms through the wall untill 7 and of course I moan to Nick, "Do you hear that?" And eight, there is this green mold stuff growing under the sink in the kitchen. It does not smell and as far as I see there are no spores...but not homey, nonetheless.
There is no sweet or philosophical ending to this one. Just wanted to post my thoughts.
Until next time, don't hurt the Love.
Post inspired by "The Green Life: Home, part 1, etc."
And I really wish I knew how to do the connect a link to your post thing right now.
However, I'll tell you several things that are not home. First and foremost, it doesn't feel like home when my Love isn't here. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the times he runs to a friends house or out to play ball. I need down-time just like anyone. But the days his meetings at work drag till 9 or 9:30pm doesn't feel like home. Second, not being 4.5 minutes from the house I grew up in, away from my Mama and Tutters and Poi is not home. Now I am 20 minutes (equal to 8-9 days). Third, not being able to walk out of the front door and take a sunset jog down Fairview, around the park in front of FUMC, and up the hill on College Street. We traded that for a treadmill. I miss not being able to walk out of the back door and watch the Huntingdon Hawks play ball from our second story balcony. That balcony was also awesome for hot coffee and hot cigs. on a cold morning before the day really started. But we traded that for watching a lake with a fountain and I quit the cigs. Fourth, our bathroom has this weird "macaroni" smell...Ask Nick, I will literally wake from deep slumber and ask him..."Do you smell that? It's like macaroni." That eerie realization that this place wasn't REALLY made just for us. You know...everyone has a house, or a room, or a closet, or lover's t-shirt that smells like home. Needless to say, every minute I am in this place there is a mango candle burning away in our bathroom. Fifth, our neighbors wake up at 5am and do something to the beat of this weird, Indie/Indo (whatever)-persuasion-techno-dance music - ish- stuff. It just booms through the wall untill 7 and of course I moan to Nick, "Do you hear that?" And eight, there is this green mold stuff growing under the sink in the kitchen. It does not smell and as far as I see there are no spores...but not homey, nonetheless.
There is no sweet or philosophical ending to this one. Just wanted to post my thoughts.
Until next time, don't hurt the Love.
Post inspired by "The Green Life: Home, part 1, etc."
And I really wish I knew how to do the connect a link to your post thing right now.
Monday, March 27, 2006
A New Blog Has Been Born!
I feel shy :)
I feel shy even though I am sitting in a room all by myself! Well, sort of. There is a gigantic flying beetle that got in here some how who is now incubating on the light bulb of my desk lamp...and he is buzzing.
I am so glad to be a part of this "blog culture." For quite some time I have been laughing along with Nick's "Musings" and making fun of him for his cheesy one-liner jokes. I mutter "dork" as I read them and then immediately feel terrible because I think I might have just hurt his feelings, even if he isn't around. The truth is, I love his one-liners and sometimes I'm jealous that I didn't come up with them on my own. I have also had the chance to read a few posts that he printed out for me early in our relationship. Before we were married, when he would tuck me in bed, before driving back to Millbrook, he would leave a copy of a couple of posts he read that day. My favorite so far has been "Home: part 1." Very beautiful writing and imagery. I could try to write like that right now but it would just be a bunch of words, run-on sentences, and way too many descriptive adjectives- oh and I usually use words that sound smart or different but they are usually misused or just made up- AND I DON'T PROOF-READ. Also, I am prone to go !/? crazy, which can be really annoying. I'll never forget when I was really young and thought is was cool to type in ALL CAPS while chatting in chat rooms on AOL and finally some guy asked me, "Why are you always yelling?" So all caps is a yell and LOL is laughing out loud...I love that.
Deep, deep, DEEP down I have an artist's instincts. I pick up on suggested opinions, tones/moods, and some humor in writing. On rainy days when I am stuck inside I have overwhelming urgencies to create something beautiful on a white canvas. On sunny days, I love to walk/run outside through fancy neighborhoods to admire (or critique) the architechure and landscaping. But even better than that is running at Shakespeare Festival where you can see God's art in nature. See, here I go...yucky, sappy, running on and on. It's too early for that. One more thing though; this is hilarious. When I was in highschool, my sister and I found an audio tape in my old "Home Alone Talk Boy" that I used to record "Dear Sally" letters about my day: like on the WB's television show "Felicity" or Nickelodeon's "Clarissa Explains It All." HA! We laughed SO hard because it was SO funny. It had to have been in fifth or sixth grade when I recorded my "Dear Sally" because one of the lines I said was, "So, my sister and I are so excited because we might get a dog...Mama and Dad said maybe so we are finger-tip point-oh, uh, um." LOL!!! What the H is "finger-tip point"!?! I obviously didn't know then either because there was a very clear hesitant "oh -um" and then "click" after I said it and I never made another "Dear Sally" again. When my sister and I (3 years apart) found it in highschool we laughed until we cried and still laugh about it sometimes now. My nickname for her is "Woodipper." I have no idea what that means; it is a name that I started calling her about 10 years ago and it just stuck - I really hope she will read this (L.Y.L.A.S-C.Y.A). Ha, anyway.
It has taken me about 2 hours to write this little snippet because I am writing and watching the Kenny Chesney "Back Where I Come From" live concert on CMT - :*) right now "The Good Stuff" It is good stuff and if you are hating...don't knock it till you've tried it. Ask My Love about "Old Blue Chair" - that song is a whole new blog in itself. It's very: "Home: part ...?"
Till next time, don't hurt the Love.
I feel shy even though I am sitting in a room all by myself! Well, sort of. There is a gigantic flying beetle that got in here some how who is now incubating on the light bulb of my desk lamp...and he is buzzing.
I am so glad to be a part of this "blog culture." For quite some time I have been laughing along with Nick's "Musings" and making fun of him for his cheesy one-liner jokes. I mutter "dork" as I read them and then immediately feel terrible because I think I might have just hurt his feelings, even if he isn't around. The truth is, I love his one-liners and sometimes I'm jealous that I didn't come up with them on my own. I have also had the chance to read a few posts that he printed out for me early in our relationship. Before we were married, when he would tuck me in bed, before driving back to Millbrook, he would leave a copy of a couple of posts he read that day. My favorite so far has been "Home: part 1." Very beautiful writing and imagery. I could try to write like that right now but it would just be a bunch of words, run-on sentences, and way too many descriptive adjectives- oh and I usually use words that sound smart or different but they are usually misused or just made up- AND I DON'T PROOF-READ. Also, I am prone to go !/? crazy, which can be really annoying. I'll never forget when I was really young and thought is was cool to type in ALL CAPS while chatting in chat rooms on AOL and finally some guy asked me, "Why are you always yelling?" So all caps is a yell and LOL is laughing out loud...I love that.
Deep, deep, DEEP down I have an artist's instincts. I pick up on suggested opinions, tones/moods, and some humor in writing. On rainy days when I am stuck inside I have overwhelming urgencies to create something beautiful on a white canvas. On sunny days, I love to walk/run outside through fancy neighborhoods to admire (or critique) the architechure and landscaping. But even better than that is running at Shakespeare Festival where you can see God's art in nature. See, here I go...yucky, sappy, running on and on. It's too early for that. One more thing though; this is hilarious. When I was in highschool, my sister and I found an audio tape in my old "Home Alone Talk Boy" that I used to record "Dear Sally" letters about my day: like on the WB's television show "Felicity" or Nickelodeon's "Clarissa Explains It All." HA! We laughed SO hard because it was SO funny. It had to have been in fifth or sixth grade when I recorded my "Dear Sally" because one of the lines I said was, "So, my sister and I are so excited because we might get a dog...Mama and Dad said maybe so we are finger-tip point-oh, uh, um." LOL!!! What the H is "finger-tip point"!?! I obviously didn't know then either because there was a very clear hesitant "oh -um" and then "click" after I said it and I never made another "Dear Sally" again. When my sister and I (3 years apart) found it in highschool we laughed until we cried and still laugh about it sometimes now. My nickname for her is "Woodipper." I have no idea what that means; it is a name that I started calling her about 10 years ago and it just stuck - I really hope she will read this (L.Y.L.A.S-C.Y.A). Ha, anyway.
It has taken me about 2 hours to write this little snippet because I am writing and watching the Kenny Chesney "Back Where I Come From" live concert on CMT - :*) right now "The Good Stuff" It is good stuff and if you are hating...don't knock it till you've tried it. Ask My Love about "Old Blue Chair" - that song is a whole new blog in itself. It's very: "Home: part ...?"
Till next time, don't hurt the Love.
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