caruso

When I listen to this, I am surrounded by Italy... the wind off the gulf whispering salty secrets in my ears, the clouds scampering around the top of Vesuvius.

-lyrics-

Here, where the sea shines and the wind howls, on the old terrace beside the gulf of Sorrento, a man embraces a girl he wept after, then clears his throat and continues the song:

I love you very much, very, very much, you know; it is a chain by now that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…

He saw the lights out on the sea, thought of the nights there in America, but they were only the fishermen’s lamps and the white wash astern. He felt the pain in the music and stood up from the piano, but when he saw the moon emerging from a cloud death also seemed sweeter to him. He looked the girl in the eyes, those eyes as green as the sea. Then suddenly a tear fell and he believed he was drowning.

I love you very much, very, very much, you know, it is a chain by now that melts the blood inside the vein you know…

The power of opera, where every drama is a hoax; with a little make-up and with mime you can become someone else. But two eyes that look at you, so close and real, make you forget the words, confuse your thoughts. So everything became small, also the nights there in America. You turn and see your life through the white wash astern.But, yes, it is life that ends and he did not think so much about it on the contrary, he already felt happy and continued his song:

I love you very much, very, very much, you know, it is a chain by now that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…

I love you very much,very, very much, you know,it is a chain by nowthat melts the blood inside the veins, you know

... comfort

you keep track of all my sorrows and wanderings.

you have collected all of my tears in your bottle.

you have recorded each one in your book.

~ psalms 56:8

and i heard a loud shout from the throne saying, "look, the dwelling of God is with his people! he will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. all these things are gone forever." and the one sitting on the throne said, "look! i am making all things new." ~ revelation 21:3-5

... i wasn't ready to be heartbroken

... i wasn't ready to say goodbye. i didn't even get that chance. i wasn't ready to stop planning... to stop dreaming. i wasn't ready to deal with death again. and now i miss him. miss those phone calls that could last for moments or for five hours at a time. the ones that keep replaying back in my mind. i miss the comfort that came from knowing that someone loved all these blasted quirks that make me who i am.

... i regret all those times i doubted him. i regret all the thoughts that went through my head when i didn't hear from him on valentine's day or my birthday. i hate the fact that he was hurting and broken. i hate the fact that i didn't even know he had been hurt until after he had passed.

... i wish i hadn't let him convince me it was better if we wait. wait to confess the things that we both knew but didn't want to talk about -- so that the distance wouldn't be any harder than it already was. i pray he knew that i loved him and wish he could've heard it from my lips.

... it's been a month and i keep swinging back and forth from moments of normalcy and then maudlin reality that i can't call him. i get giddy when my phone rings, but it's never him. it won't be him. and i know that no one knows what to say. what could they say? we were friends, yet there was the possibility of so much more. and those possibilities have evaporated.


... growing up is getting old. i miss him... and i wasn't ready to be heartbroken again.

... little robin red-breast sitting in a tree

welcome, wild harbinger of spring! to this small nook of earth; feeling and fancy fondly cling, round thoughts which owe their birth, to thee, and to the humble spot, where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.
~ bernard barton

the robins and other birds have returned and winter in its white-capped silence has begun to thaw. and it would seem, so have I.

It was never my intention to so hibernate and even now I bear the aches and pains that comes from lying dormant too long. But, as all things continue along an ever cyclical path (or so it would seem at least), I have come 'round in my senses and have returned. Hooray for small miracles.

truth for a thursday...

Thus saith the Lord, James Blunt,

and this sticker in Milan.

vast thoughts...

God does not demand that we give up our personal dignity, that we throw in our lot with random people, that we lose ourselves and turn from all that is not Him.

God needs nothing, asks nothing, and demands nothing, like the stars.

It is a life with God that demands these things. Experience has taught the race that if knowledge of God is the end, then these habits of life are not the means but the conditions in which the means operates. You do not have to do these things; not at all... unless you want to know God. They work on you, not on Him. You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary.

But the stars neither require nor demand it.

~ Annie Dillard "An Expedition to the Pole"

quote(s) of the day...

• An apt quotation is like a lamp which flings its light over the whole sentence. ~ Letitia Landon

Genius without religion is only a lamp on the outer gate of a palace; it may serve to cast a gleam of light on those that are without, while the inhabitant sits in darkness. ~ Hannah More

• Hope is patience with the lamp lit. ~ Tertullian

I work in a glamorous shed - glamorous because it is big and beautiful, but also empty of everything except a desk and a lamp, and there's a way of making coffee. ~ Jeanette Winterson

• Imparting knowledge is only lighting other men's candles at our lamp without depriving ourselves of any flame. ~ Jane Porter

In the choir a silver lamp was burning, and from the side chapels and dark places of the church sometimes rose sounds like sighs, with the clang of a closing grating, its echo reverberating under the lofty vault. ~ Gustave Flaubert

i take a rest for a moment...

... It is official -- I am tired. In the past two days I have only averaged a meager five hours of sleep and in all honesty, there is too much to do. I am on the verge of abandoning sleep altogether except that I know a person dies faster from sleep deprivation than they do from lack of nutrition (thank you, blufr).

... Yet it is a good sort of tired. As I commented somewhere on somebody's blog (probably Robyn's), it's a purging and a shaping of The Shop's showroom into the realisation of the image my mind's eye had conjured up months ago. That is empowering. Clearing every accessory and "thing" away so that I am only left with a blank canvas -- to be colored and formed -- and furniture, like giant toy blocks, to move and arrange until I am satisfied.

... Yesterday I had only had two hours of sleep -- working all night on paperwork so that I would be free for the physical to come. Everyone in my building kept saying: Aren't you tired? I couldn't do it, I like my sleep too much. If I tried to stay up like you I would simply pass out.

... I save my breath because I cannot communicate with them on the level to where it would make any sense whatsoever. I've learned that lesson. Most of them just don't get it. So I will share it with you --- this is my passion. This act of creating, for me, is no different than a post that leaps from my fingers or a harmony that emerges unknowingly when I sing. And though I'm not exactly sure where it came from, or how I was blessed with it, I am a part of it... it is a part of me. The Shop is such a grand scale (over 10,000 sq. ft) that I submerge myself into it, especially in early November to prepare for the upcoming months. I eat it, breathe it, dream it (sleeping is kept to a minimum, as you can tell) -- and in four days, a new entity is birthed that is fresh and new and all mine. When the paper is peeled back from the windows and it is revealed to the world, I get the sense of being reborn.

... And so skimping on a few hours of sleep is a small price to pay for what the end result will be... the pleasure that I will derive from seeing it finished.

hip hop hooray...

... It will seem odd to anyone reading this blog for the first time, how important this occassion is -- but Barnacle Britches (I wonder if he wears bell bottoms, being the sailor he is) has added me as a link on his blog!

That's me -- Big Words and Stuff.

... Why is it important, you ask? Not entirely sure. Maybe it's the blog-version of the Susan Lucci Emmy syndrome. Finally being chosen now that all your blog-friends are part of the club. A rite of blog-passage. I nearly missed it as I was scanning the latest posts for neutral material that would not scald the virgin eyes right out of my head. But there it was, big as life, right next to Talkin' Smack.

... And here I thought I was too old for treats on Halloween.

beta than ever...

... I am simply swamped today in a barely-have-time-to-breathe-or-think-or-eat-lunch-at-my-desk sort of way. There are piles upon piles of things to be sorted, filed, sorted THEN filed, and thrown away. It is disturbing.

... Yet, here I am -- firing of a lightening quick post so that Robyn does not scold me. Thankfully, it is a quiet blog-day so I am not left feeling like the poor little sick girl stuck inside while all her friends are out having adventures.

... What do I have to say for myself? I l-o-v-e beta. Like it, love it, want more of it. I feel accomplished. I adore the new layout and the colors and how simple it all is. Dear God in heaven why can't everything else be this simple?!

... One small step towards techie-ville, one giant leap for a geek like me.

NOTE: Am I the only one who likes this? Have I scattered my little community with a drop of change?! I just checked my meter and not a single person has stopped by for a visit today. Now I'm feeling like the house that didn't get a single trick-or-treater.

the history of a name...

... Before I was born, a name had been picked out for me -- "Ashley Adair". Then, after thirty-six hours of labor with no pain medicine and no doctor (he was on vacation), the trauma made my mother a bit forgetful and it changed slightly... and hence I was christened "Alice Adair" after my grandmother and great-grandmother Davis.

... I am in no way an "Alice". There is no deep love for Sam the Butcher and bad sack dresses and blah hair buns a la Alice from the Brady Bunch. And while I like tea parties, I've never cavorted with the Mad Hatter, a Dodo bird, or a White Rabbit. Somewhere in my childhood I remember a tv show called Alice (or was it Mel's Diner) where Alice was some single mother that I didn't like all that much, and my favorite character was Flo who smacked her gum and told Mel to "kiss ma grits" in a deep Southern twang. It didn't really matter that much anyway, I've never been called Alice a day in my life...

... Being the fifth generation of woman to go by her middle name, my family thought nothing of calling me Adair. I thought (and still think) nothing of it too. Yet every year, on the first day of school I had to raise my hand and tell my teacher that no, my name wasn't Alice -- it was Adair. Sometimes teachers, if they hadn't known me before, thought it was a trick... that somehow I had been "a dared" to pull a prank on them. If a boy's name was Jacob and he liked to be called Jake, the grade book was marked... if I wanted to be called by my name I had to submit forms and bring a note in signed by my mother. Blah.

... My grandmother's name is Helen Adair. I like the way that sounds even though Helen is so out-of-fashion these days. My great-grandmother, Honey, named her after a little girl born in the family ten generations before. I can remember back to the days when I felt like I was the only Adair in the world (besides my grandmother that is). I was an anomoly in a sea of Amanda's, Stephanie's, Heather's and Stacey's. It was distinctive, even if prone to the odd joke or two. Every now and then someone thought they were the wittiest person in the world to say "doe adair a female deer" and laugh like an idiot.

... I share the same name with cities in Iowa, Illinois, Oklahoma, Idaho, Kentucky, Michigan, Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio and Tennessee. And at least five states have an Adair County. It is highly doubtful that any of them tie in anyway to me.

... Some friends in high school would always buy souveniers and mementos with their names on them. Decorative little plaques that said their name meant "petal" or "princess". Ornaments, pens, rulers, picture frames... as if merchandise equated to significance. That was never an option for me, and I never cared. Then my friends' all started having children and stocking up on baby-name books complete with definition, meaning, characteristics, Biblical verses and the like. I must confess that I was tempted to know where this name came from and just what exactly it meant.

... Not one of them agreed with another. The origins ranged from hebrew to gaelic to old english. The literal meanings meant spear, ornament, oak-ford, and river. And all the other was too embarassing to even type.

... Have you ever paused and thought about what it would be like if one day you ceased to be yourself... and were suddenly called by another name. What if tomorrow I woke up and I was a Mindy or a Cheryl or a Megan? Would it change who I am? Who I have been?

... Deep down I'm glad I have the name I have, regardless of how it came to be or where exactly it came from. Deeper still I know that what matters most is what I do with it and what I make of it --- the future of my name, instead of the past.

if I only had an orchestra...

... By chance I happened to come across one of my favorite movies of all time on TCM. It was released in 1937 and stars one of my mother's favorite actresses of all time -- Deanna Durbin. (Fittingly enough, my mother's first name is Deanna, but was not named after the actress.)

... The whole premise is that a young girl (Durbin), determined to turn things around for her out-of-work trombonist father and the rest of their unemployed musician friends, is encouraged to form her own orchestra and to put them on a radio show.

... Typical movie twists and such ensue, but my favorite scene of all is when she sneaks all hundred men into the home of famed conductor Leopold Stokowski (who was the co-conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra at the time). When she cannot convince him to conduct her orchestra, she strikes up the men into a stirring rendition of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody. The camera pans wide as Stokowski approaches the balustrade to look down at a sea of men cascading down the steps with everything from cellos to tubas. I especially love that the oboe passage is featured, as I am tender-hearted towards the instrument.

... If I only had an orchestra. My mind reels thinking about all the music I would pick out for them -- beautiful haunting delicious music that lingers on the soul.