Gleek

It is all Leslie's fault that I am now a Gleek.
Yes, a "Glee" geek am I, mildly obsessed with that TV dramady that is basically Freaks and Geeks with singing and dancing.
I am finally ready to admit my secret yet undying love for Broadway musicals and Glee club productions, ready to announce that yes, world, I truly love a capella groups and big choreographed events. I been in love for a long, long time, since my childhood obsession with the Fame soundtrack and most certainly since seeing Bernadette Peter's in "Annie Get Your Gun" on Broadway in 1999. I loved the "RENT" soundtrack without ever seeing it live.

Any song that requires soaring strings and arms raising in feeling: I am so there. Maybe irrationally so.

And so, you ten readers, I present to you what I consider a moment from "Glee" that astonishing: Lea Michelle (she of "Spring Awakening") and the ever-lovely Idina Menzel (the originator of Maureen in "RENT" and Ephelba in "Wicked" --I mean how much more iconic can you be) dueting on "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miz.
That sound you heard was my head exploding.



Sidebar: I adore Idina Menzel but also sort of hate her for being married to Taye Diggs. I have an innocent yet irrational crush on Taye Diggs.

The Whats

I have always had an overactive imagination in the sleep realm. I have fantastically entertaining and vivid dreams (one this weekend involved trying to travel with a narcoleptic pet piglet named Kevin. He kept passing out in strange places and I’d yell, “Dammit! Where the hell is Kevin!?” I can’t even make that up).

I promise this whole post isn’t about a dream; it is about an idea from a dream. I don’t want to hear other people’s dreams either, unless they are hilarious.

One dream I had this weekend involved an arcade video game that I was playing with 8 to 10 people. I made a choice for the game and it said, “RESET." With that choice, all those playing were allowed to see four “resets” in their life: we were allowed to pick four watershed moments in our past that we could relive with a different choice. We were able to live each reset for a half-hour.

How fascinating!

I remember three of the resets I chose—what if I hadn’t moved to Asheville? What if I’d gone to a different college? What if I’d stayed with my first love?

These aren’t questions that I think about in my daily life, they aren’t choices that particularly haunt me. I feel I made the right choice in every one of those instances, and in my dream I had the same conclusion after seeing those other versions of me.

But I am young, and I have many more choices ahead of me, each one greater than the last.

What if that was the case—what if when we turned 25, we were given four resets for our entire life and we could use them when we wanted? Would you want to see those resets? What would you reset? Would you want to see those paths knowing you couldn’t choose that life?

In the dream I had several people who came into my life regardless of the reset path.
I found comfort in that tiny tidbit. I like to think that some bonds transcend choices.

Biological Casio

Saturday morning I woke up too early because two very small hands were squeezing my cheeks together and the face attached to those hands was uncomfortably close to mine.

“HIIIII AH-RAH. HIIII! AWWWWWIGHT! YAY BEACH!” was shouted at full volume into my slack face, which translated from 20-month old speak is the best sort of good morning expression. Ena, my quasi-goddaughter (and for the sake of this blog will be called as much) was sitting on my chest, her big green eyes staring at my bleary, sleep filled ones, and she was absolutely thrilled that I was still around in the morning. She kept touching me to make sure I was real. Usually I'm at the house to say goodnight to her but I'm gone when she gets up, but since I'd traveled to the beach with her and her parents, unlike at home we were going to be in the same house for a few days. Ena seemed to think this was the best idea. EVER. I say hello; she climbs down and goes screaming into the next room, on to bigger and better projects that don’t involve waking up a notorious non-morning person. Her morning speed is one I rarely get around to nearing in a day.

Ena's parents are my amazing friends Katherine and Andy (written about here and here and here).

I'm not a kid person; I don't usually like them, don't have a biological clock causing me to desire them...ok maybe I have a biological pocket watch; ever so slight and inconsistently functional. A biological digital calculator watch. A cheap biological Casio or Swatch. Nothing large or accurate to be sure. Ena breaks my baby rules. I pick her up; I hold her hand, wipe her face, run with her and feed her (cardinal sins in my baby book. Usually I'll just poke them and pat their heads). She has opened rooms in my heart full of draped furniture, covered with the dust of neglect and time. I am blessed to see her often.

This weekend at the beach with Ena, coupled with the Mother's Day holiday, caused me to think about loving children. It makes no sense.

Why do we love these little selfish parasites that require attention, fawning, food, care, cleaning and coaxing into the most basic exercises of sleeping and eating? They are extremely irrational, poor communicators with a mean streak and a penchant for destruction. But we love them. We would die for them. One laugh from that girl and I'm up for whatever she has next. I melt like an idiot.

Brennan Manning, he of 'Ragamuffin Gospel' fame, writes,
“Children are our model because they can have no claim on heaven. If they are close to God, it is because they are incompetent, not because they are innocent. If they receive anything it can only be as a gift.”

I do not love Ena because she is innocent; I love her because she is Ena.

I think that might just be what we, in any belief system, should strive for. We are not worth anything because of our abilities or our inabilities, our gifts or our struggles; we are worth much because we are first loved much. I am loved because I am a key component in something much bigger than me. I am loved because I fulfill a promise. I am loved because I am furthering my species. In this culture and society I am trained to do, to measure my success in tangibles.

My list of tangibles I made at 22 is woefully unfulfilled.

Today I am struggling mightily with this.

I want my reasons to be loved to read like a resume. I want love to be bullet points, I want clearly defined boundaries and rules.

It doesn't. It isn't.

And yet.

There Came A Whisper

Friday night I retreated to my own mountain with three friends. We got to the summit of Max Patch just as the sun was setting and we sat in the grass and watched as the sunset took on the hues that only come from done days. It was quiet.
As the light faded we lay on our backs; the stars appeared when they were ready.

The mountain breeze blew sweetly across the summit and we bundled together in the elevated chill. I felt God on my face.

There is a lovely passage in 1 Kings where Elijah is running from the law; he’s a hunted man and it seems everyone wants to kill him. He flees, hides in a cave in a mountain and gives up on life, asking God to kill him and put him out of his misery. God seems to ignore him and says, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."
So Elijah does. He’s not doing anything else except waiting to die. A great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart around him and shattered rocks. But, it says, the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind came an earthquake; the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there came a gentle whisper.

That was God.

I’ve joked previously that sometimes when I pray I feel like I’m talking to God while he’s snacking, and he doesn’t hear certain things because maybe he’s eating loud Fritos or something.

But in this season where grief is surrounding me, I thirst so mightily for that whisper. There is this closeness, an intimacy and a little bit of secrecy to a whisper—it is a conversation between me and God, for no one else but us. He is the breeze that kisses my face. I feel in those moments that I am heard, I am loved, and I am held.

Song Lyrics I Really Don't Believe, Madonna Edition

Time to do another edition of "Song Lyrics I Really Don't Believe" but this time I feel the need to focus on one specific artist, the Material Girl herself Madonna. I found a dearth of little nuggets; here are the first few. There may be more. Enjoy.
(older lists may be found here and here)

“I just think of you and I start to glow…” (Lucky Star)
Really, Madonna? You glow? Do you mean glow as in sweat, because that is fairly disgusting to admit. I'd maybe use "glisten" or "dew". Do you mean glow as a pregnant person glows? Do you just think of someone and you are knocked up? Wow. I'd say cover your eyes. Or do you mean like ET glow, like his creepy red heart in his chest thing? Do you have an uncanny urge to eat Reese’s Pieces and “phone home”? Do you see where this could be an issue, Madonna? None of these sound too appealing. ET might be cute and all but no one wants to sleep with him.

“You can turn this world around
And bring back all of those happy days” (Holiday)
Who the hell are you dating, Madonna? Who is this that can turn the world around, does this mean they can go back in time? Do we all go back in time when he decides to turn the world around? Do you mean “Happy Days” like the show, because by the time it ended we had the phrase “jumped the shark” for a reason, Madge. It sucked. Do you mean he can turn the world around as in make days, because I hate to tell you but he isn’t the one making the earth turn that way. That’s gravity doing all the work and you are a moron.

“Been saving it all for you
'Cause only love can last” (Like a Virgin)
Madge: you have obviously never heard the whole “Twinkies never rot” theory. I hear they can last for a long ass time. Hope the “it” to which you are referring is your massive stash of Twinkies or that guy is gonna be wicked disappointed.

"Yeah, your love thawed out
What was scared and cold" (Like a Virgin)
The words “love” and “thawed” should not go together. Love is not frozen peas, Madonna. You don’t grab a box of love out of the freezer to make a complete meal out of some fish sticks. Nor is love a microwave. Love is not where one puts a frozen breast of chicken to thaw it out. Well I guess they could but that seems to be stretching a vague metaphor a bit.

“Gonna get to know you in a special way
This doesn't happen to me every day” (Into the Groove)
Madonna: I beg to differ….somehow I think it just might happen to you every day. I’d love to see your day scheduler. Wake up, breakfast, shower, getting to know you in a special way, jog, adopt a baby, lunch…

“I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing” (Like a Prayer)
WTH is an angel sighing for? It sounds like the angel is exasperated, or in a mouthwash commercial. Does this angel have asthma? How does one know how to adequately compare a voice to an angel’s sigh? I looked it up on the Google and I could find no audio. Do you get a lot of angel’s sighing to you, Madge? You might want to get this checked out.

Beauty's where you find it
Not just where you bump and grind it (Vogue)
Is this a revelation to you, Material Girl? Most people say beauty is found out in nature, or in the smile of a child, or, I don’t know, in puppies and kittens and rainbows. You know, at the very least, that it isn’t just where you bump n’ grind it. Well done. In the game of 20 questions about where one can find beauty, you've knocked out one crucial question. I actually believe this point you’ve made, I just want to make fun of you for making it. Progress comes with age, Madge!

"I'd like to express my extreme point-of-view
I'm not a Christian and I'm not a Jew" (American Life)
Just because you are not a Christian or a Jew does not make your point-of-view “extreme”. It makes it pretty common actually. You gotta find more extreme points-of-view. Like if you had mentioned the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster or the Birther movement or something I might say, “Wow that Madge really does have extreme points-of-view,” but no, I don’t think that when you tell me you don’t like the Bible.

"We only got 4 minutes to save the world...." (4 Minutes)
Several questions….first: really? 4 minutes? I didn’t know Armageddon had a snooze button. I didn’t know that when the world ends, we were going to be given a rough estimate of its timing. How long has this been counting down? And you thought when we were four minutes away would be a good time to tell the rest of us? This isn’t New Years Eve, Madge, this is the end of the mutha-loving world. And who told you anyway? Was it supposed to be a big surprise? And Madonna, somehow I don’t think you are the person the world would elect to save us. That Timberlake bloke: maybe. He's cute.