Month: March 2014

Good Things

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So I have been so very blessed with opportunity lately that I am entirely chuffed! ^_^ I had the fabulous chance to edit a Master’s thesis project for a good friend, which I really, really enjoyed, and he was entirely too kind and credited me in his project – a new roleplaying game.

I also have the continued blessing and pleasure to be contributing to The Well Written Woman. Camicia and Lauren are simply amazing and I am ever so thankful for them giving me this chance!

I was also contacted by the editors of Myth Ink Books about a new collection that they are developing of works that were published in Parma Nole, the Journal of the Northeast Tolkien Society several years ago. They have offered me the opportunity to have one of those papers published once again in the new collection this fall, and I am very excited that I get to revisit, revise, and update one of my favorite literary works.

So many opportunities, so many blessings! I can hardly believe and I am so thankful for it all! 🙂

My Senses, My Memory

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I just had a bit of summertime in the early spring, a delicious bit of nostalgia, divine deja vu. It was in the way that the fan blew on my skin, in its coolness exhaled on white noise breath. It was in the cloudy shadow of the room I sat in at the back of the house. It was in the way my heart sat in my chest, and it ached a little bit with the memory brought up. Though the memory itself was “long ago and in a land far away”, the feeling is still sweet.

My senses are my memory. My mind is cast back by a touch that raises gooseflesh, the particular way the sun winks at me of a morning, a smell that makes me pause and sigh, a song that makes my chest ache with emotion. Memories tied to senses, captured by sensations, scents, and sounds. I laugh, I cry, I feel like all I want is a nuzzle and inhale, the warmth of someone’s embrace, the texture of tendrils of hair gliding through my fingers. My sense memory is raw and visceral and I know no other way to remember.

Nothing on the Shelf

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So…today, I faced a unique problem. Well, unique to me. I couldn’t find anything to read. We were in Target and, of course, I decided to spin by the books. I picked up book after book and put each down again in disappointment. Every book was a “tragic love” and two in a row were about a woman being left with a pregnancy by the man who broke her heart. After about the fourth of fifth book, I shoved the last back onto the shelf with an audible, “Arggggh!” I wanted a book to grab me, to capture me with its story, not with the tragedy and helplessness of its protagonist.

I found one book to interest me, finally: Glitter and Glue: A Memoir by Kelly Corrigan. I’m not entirely certain that this is what I was looking for but this was the closest I had come in twenty minutes of searching. Unfortunately, I am on a tight budget right now and $27 for a hardcover was out of my price range today. I might pick it up on Kindle in a little while but, I have to admit. I was little disappointed today. It was like echoing the woes of a satellite subscriber: Hundreds of channels and nothing to watch.

I know, I know. First world problems.

The Joy of Alone

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10009813_1475881882626096_2055759745_nThe day was gloomy and rainy, reflecting the weariness that she felt in her very bones. All week long, it had been go, go, go. Meetings and lessons, get-togethers and dinners. People. All week: people. Finally, it was today. She stepped up to the window, asking for one ticket to the movie. The attendant might have looked at her a little askance but, if they did, she didn’t notice or at least affected not to. She garnered herself a small popcorn and a drink, inhaling the warm buttery smell of the theatre. It was smell that never failed to take her back to childhood when this was an unforeseen treat: going to the movies. Strolling through the multiplex, she made her way to the screening room where her chosen movie was showing. Stepping into the already semi darkness, she mounted the stairs to the very top row of high-backed, plush seats, scooting down the row until she was centered with the giant screen. The sweet spot.

Finally satisfied, she lowered herself down in her seat, stowing her bag,  drink, and snack, and making herself as comfortable in her temporary little nest as she could, padding it with the soft of her coat. And then, at last, she slouched in the chair, exhaling a heavy siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Alone. It was early, the theatre was practically empty, and she was alone. And the only word she would use to describe it?

Joyous.

As the theatre darkened and her favorite part of the movie-going experience (the previews) began, she snuggled down into her seat, grabbed her popcorn, and inhaled its nostalgic scent once more. This. This was joy. If just for these moments. Just…being alone.

No Words

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A full heart but an empty mouth.

Thoughts swirl and build and fill, but the words necessary to express them just aren’t there.

Maybe they do not exist yet, words with the exact meaning to convey such thought.

Maybe they do exist but in a language I do not know.

Would I understand them if I heard them? Would I take them to heart and make them mine?

TV Review: The Borgias

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I know the show ended a few years ago but I also cancelled my cable a few years ago so I had to wait until seasons 2 and 3 of Showtime’s “The Borgias”, starring Jeremy Irons and Holliday Granger as the fabled Rodrigo Borgia (Pope Alexander Sextus) and his daughter Lucrezia, came to Netflix. The show chronicles the rise of the Borgia family as Rodrigo buys and promises his way to an election after the death of Pope Innocent. He is followed in this rise by his three illegitimate children by former courtesan and lover Vannozza dei Cattanei: Juan, Cesare, and Lucrezia. A fourth child, Gioffre, dies of the sweating sickness in the first season.  As Rodrigo takes the throne of St. Peter’s and elevates his children with him (Juan to head of the Papal army and Cesare to Cardinal), he begins to work to build a last legacy of Borgia. He takes a new mistress, the legendary La Bella, Giulia Farnese – a woman as intelligent as she was beautiful. Cesare, unsatisfied with his brother’s inept martial abilities, decide to take his family’s protection and honor in hand and he does so by acquiring the skills of a man originally hired to assassinate his father, one Micheletto Corella.

Micheletto Corella, God’s own assassin

Now, here’s the interesting part. Micheletto, an assassin, a nobody, became my absolute favorite character in the show. Of course, Micheletto’s convincing line to Cesare is “Someone as pitiless as you needs someone as pitiless as me”. And so he becomes God’s own assassin, meting out death and pain in equal measure where necessary. A skilled student in the art of death, we find out that Micheletto is from Forli, kingdom of the infamous Catherina Sforza. He has ties there, secrets. Micheletto is a man of many secrets and ever so many more burdens upon his soul, though he would exhort the opposite. He becomes instrumental to many a Borgia plot and the jinn to grant even many a Borgia wish. He is indelibly complex, even though he seems pretty straight-forward and cruel. He is an assassin, after all. But he is a clever man with untold skills and an eidetic memory. We never find out all of his story. He gives you one or two details about a situation and keeps the rest forever for himself. I’m fascinated by him. And, what’s more, I feel for him, all the time! When he left in the middle of season 3, I have rarely been so upset about the departure of a character or as elated as when he returned for ONE scene later on in the season.

I was disappointed with the show’s end but even more with how it ended. I know that television shows do not have an option when they are cancelled but events had been set in motion with that final episode of season 3 that left one’s stomach in a lurch and disappointed that they would never come to fruition. Jeremy Irons was not as diabolical as I am perhaps used to seeing him but he portrayed the conflicted Rodrigo Borgia – a man who desired to be of faith but was always a slave to ambition – as well as I have ever seen him played. All in all, however, “The Borgias” was enjoyable, beautifully set and costumed, and the actors portrayed their characters just as I would have wanted. 

 

Striking to Think

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I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I finished my shower last night and was rather struck by my reflection. My cheeks were rosy, lips pink, eyes dark and long-lashed, and my ponytail in a curling coil over my shoulder. It was one of those moments that it felt like seeing myself for the first time and not recognizing who was looking back at me. Even odder and more striking to me was to catch myself thinking, “Beautiful!”  Let me say that for you again. In that moment, I thought myself to be beautiful. Part of me sorely wished to take a picture but I realized that no camera was ever going to catch the way I saw myself in that moment. Yesterday, I spent most of the day catching up on “The Borgias” so I was looking at Holliday Granger all day, undoubtedly one of the most beautiful young women I have ever seen. So, to consider myself as beautiful and graceful as “Lucrezia Borgia” herself for a moment was a pretty big deal to me. When I finished and came out into the living room, I gave my husband quite a kiss, one that made him asked, “Are you…trying to tell me something?”

I smiled and replied, “Just that…I feel beautiful right now.”

Breathing Prayer

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I have found myself praying often lately, especially when my mind begins to turn tumultuous – dwelling and worrying and the like – or even when it is quiet. I find my self pouring out in prayer. Prayers for myself, for others, over the situations in my life that need guidance or an answer. It’s really me talking to God, and it feels natural, which always amazes me. I was raised in the conservative Christian church; prayer is far from a foreign concept to me. Still, to find prayer – thanks, intercession, honesty about fears and needs, rejoicing, etc. – flowing from my mind, mouth, and pen as naturally as breathing never fails to amaze me. I have found myself lying in bed unable to sleep, my mind racing with worries and fears, and I start talking to God, pouring those worries into his figurative lap. I tell him what I need, where I am lost and need guidance. Am I to go back to work to allow Ben more time for ministry? Am I to resume teaching or strike out into something new and unknown? What would I do with Elizabeth? Where do I put my foot next? What am I to say or do for this friend who is hurting or in difficulty? How am I to be a good friend to them and not simply make empty statements? What do I need to do, or be doing, to be a good wife to Ben? I bring all of these questions in prayer, but I also bring my joys. I’m thankful that Elizabeth is as healthy as she is. I am thankful for our home and the new opportunities in our lives. I am thankful to have met Ben and I am blessed to be his wife. I am thankful to be able to be with my daughter and to blog and write more.

Writing is my preferred method of communication at least 70% of the time, honestly. I write down many of my prayers, but to have prayer flowing easily through my thoughts or my voice, true heartfelt prayers, is a big deal to me, One of the admonitions in the New Testament of the Bible is to prayer unceasingly. I will freely admit that there have been long periods when I have gone without talking to God, that’s what prayer is, after all, and those have been times of worry, fear, and a distinct lack of peace. Praying is not easy when life is hard I do but I trust that they will be. I have faith and that’s really all I can do. Have faith, prayer for myself and others, and follow that leading when I feel it linger in my heart and soul.

Prayer, faith, belief – maybe none of makes sense to you or may apply to your life. That’s all right. It does to me.