Nyro November

As Christmas lights twinkle at me from neighbouring windows, I must accept that November's candle has nearly burned to the end.

This is not neccesarily a bad thing, though. I journaled a lot during the month of November and looking back, I realize how bemusing it was...

--We took a day trip down to see our paternal grandparents. It was my first time seeing my grandfather since he's been diagnosed with cancer. [This next bit is copied from my journal] He's undergone half of his treatments and I was shocked... because he looks no different! I would never even suspect he had cancer. I almost feel guilty, because I have been relatively untouched by tragedy & now that it has come... it's a nonentity. So far, that is. I should be giving thanks to God but I'm just sitting here wondering what the catch is. Sad, n'est-ce pas?

--Less importantly, I found out I have "misophonia" which is a form of decreased sound tolerance. From wikipedia: "People who have misophonia are most commonly annoyed, or even enraged, by the sound of other people eating, breathing, coughing, or other ordinary sounds." My whole life makes sense now! Or at least the past couple years do. :P


--On November 21 my "baby" brother had his 13th birthday! I could have sworn he was still 6, I really could've. As often as he drives me crazy, I love that boy so much. This one's for you, love muffin! ;)


--And most shockingly, my older sister has a boyfriend. Her first. Our whole family’s first, really. Let me put this in context: she's never had a boyfriend because her convictions do not include dating for dating's sake or transient relationships. This relationship is a serious one: one with the goal of possible marriage someday.

*excuse me while I scream inside*

I feel... a tumult of emotions. This all came on so fast - I almost feel threatened. My sister and I are close and she's already away so much; I wasn't prepared to lose her to a guy so soon! We all finally met him today. He seems nice and a little bit shy. Still... this is shaking my world. I'll get used to it, though... eventually.
As I've watched this whole thing unfold, (the talking, the texting, the praying, the texting, the texting) all I can think is Aww...! [I don't want this for myself. I don't want this; I don't want this.] Perhaps it's my young age, but the knowledge that I am not expected to stay single my whole life makes me sick. But this is a bewildering topic I could wax on for hours. Let us drop it for now.


November has been strange for me, emotionally speaking. One day I'll feel driven and inspired; I write/bake cookies/paint with my brother; and then the next day all I want to do is crawl into a hole where there are no people and I can cry in peace.
These past couple weeks, I've developed an ennui: the grey, sticky kind that's so hard to wash from the folds of the sky. I thought it was circumstantial, temporary; I thought I could keep it at arm's length until "that time" ended. Apparently not. It's still here.

November has sounded like a Laura Nyro song.


Practically all I listened to the month of November was her album New York Tendaberry, and (starting this past week) Eli and the Thirteenth Confession. On good days and bad, her music remained the only thing I didn't weary of. But those aren't the only reasons why I say November has sounded like one of her songs. Her changing tempos, the soaring flight; then landing; then soaring again of her songs has mirrored the carousel rhythm of my emotions. Except, I lack the passion she sings with; I don't seem to feel anything deeply anymore.

Today in church, though... I felt inspired. I can pull my act together this week, I thought. I can pull my whole life together!
Sitting in church seems to be the place where I make my best (and oft most random) resolves. Sermon-listening doesn't always happen, but that's just how it goes sometimes.

My ennui has not made a peep all day, and I am hoping this week will be better. That is one thing we must always cling to: surely tomorrow will be better. If we didn’t believe that, I’m not sure many of us would choose to wake up ever again.

So, though November has been an altogether bone-rattling month, I face the beginning of my favourite season with careworn hopes dug out from under the bed and grasped in my hands again. I’m not sure they will help, but I need to hold them and try to seek the truth again. I'm tired of being lost.





('The Man Who Sends Me Home' by Laura Nyro. I realize her music is not to everyone's liking, but I think she's pretty darn amazing, so I dinna care.)



{1st picture is text from the book I Am Half-Sick of Shadows by Alan Bradley and the 2nd picture is of Laura Nyro.}

all the lonely people

Playing piano in a darkened room:
'Eleanor Rigby' (because I need to know
where all the lonely people belong)

I was playing
and the keys
gleamed like phantoms;
tender ghosts that glowed with solace
and sustenance

the hours and weeks before
had been full of voiceless screams,
of sighs and trembling

the ghosts and the
bittersweet darkness
of their ebony threads
were the sole thing that could
bind these tatters of mine

they filled me, stopped the disintegration
(I'm a grey colour now, but still here)

And my fingers keep on pacing,
always looking for their songs


(for this is the only way
I know how to speak.
This is the only way
I can communicate.

Listen;
know me. )


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My emotional hurricane has calmed to a rainstorm. It's much easier to live with, but I'm tired of being anywhere from damp to soaked all the time; I just want to be dry!

On a happier note, I started a new journal yesterday! I don't know why, but I love starting a new journal (though finishing the old one is somewhat bittersweet). Through the years, especially when I was younger, I've kept various diaries... but it is only my journal(s) that I have stayed faithful to.
I kept my first journal from December 2000 to January 2009. My second journal I kept from February 2009 to, well, August 2011! (As you can see, my writing habits have greatly spiked in the last few years.)
The journal I have just started was given to me for Christmas by my brother.


I love it so much since I'm a Beatles fan of astronomical proportions and Abbey Road is one of my favourite albums. It has been lying around my room tempting me for around 8 months, so I'm excited to finally be writing in it!

Eh, it's the little things in life, isn't it?




{Both photos by me.}

The Past

I've been thinking a lot about the past again. My family's past, specifically, as I've been making friends with my grandmother's "Heritage Scrapbook".

There is an entry in my journal that sums up the emotions I've been feeling lately, so I'm posting it, with a couple revisions and clarifications. (This entry was written last September when we were in KY for the first time in forever, to go to the Creation Museum and visit family also since a lot of my father's family comes from there.)

"We are in Kentucky. [...] We went to the annual [family] reunion. The highlight of this was seeing great-aunt D- (my grandfather's oldest sister). We set on her porch for a while, the porch of the house her (late) husband built! (Though, as she said, there have been improvements made.)
And as I sat there on the porch swing, I started thinking about old people & how many stories & memories they have & how they are our tie with the past. And once they die all their stories & memories die with them. One more tie with the past is severed.
It makes me wish I could just spend time with people like Aunt D- & my grandparents & ask them to tell me stories of their life.
Where are we without the past? I say I hate history [as a subject in school] - I don't. I hate textbook history. I don't just want to know about impersonal, large battles. I don't want to know about dreams of the nation. I want to know about the individual battles of every day. I want to know the personal dreams that the generations before me held. I don't want to lose our connection with them."


Does anyone else ever feel that way? It makes me wish I had a stronger inclination to be a biographer or something. Now I always make sure to pay close attention when my grandparents start telling a story. I don't think I remember often enough how blessed I am to still have all my grandparents alive.

As I mentioned, I've been looking a lot at my (maternal) grandmother's "Heritage Scrapbook" lately. My brothers and I spent the night at her and my grandfather's house yesterday because my parents and older sister were both gone. I adopted the scrapbook for the night so I could spend more time with it, hehe. I took some pictures of some of the photos and thought I'd share a few. (Sorry the quality isn't the greatest.)


This is my favourite picture in the album. It's my great-grandmother (or my mother's mother's mother :P) in the 1920's when she was dating my great-grandfather (the man next to her, obviously). The funny thing is, nobody remembers who the little girl on the right is. My grandmother asked my great-grandmother when she was still alive and she didn't remember either.
Still, I love this picture; it just screams 1920's and I love that era.

This is my great-grandfather's family. Yep, he had 11 siblings. I'm not sure when it's from... late 1910's or 1920's is my guess. He's in the back row, in the middle (he's the same fellow in the picture above).



And this is a picture of my grandmother and grandfather in the 1950's before they were married!

They were so cute. :)


Anyway, I hope everyone is having a lovely summer and has a great new week!

Thoughts of Spring!

I am going through a barren spell, at the moment. I didn't even notice till the other day I realized I have been writing next to nothing. It's alright, though. I know the words will come back. With a vengeance, undoubtedly, in copious, overwhelming amounts. I have been writing in my journal, though. I thought I'd post this journal entry I wrote last week. It was written on a day that felt like spring. My mother had opened all the windows and I sat on the floor in front of mine and wrote this entry. (It was penned over a period of 20 minutes or so with quite a few pauses in between to revel in the inspiring atmosphere. So, it is a little choppy. Especially since I copied it verbatim from my journal... with a few punctuation and spelling corrections, of course. :P)

{My window! Taken from my seated position on the floor.}

Feb. 28, 2011

I love Spring. I can see why people (stereotypically?) fall in love during springtime. There is something in the air that is most inspiring. An intoxicating scent that makes one feel like doing foolish or impossible things.
Just after I wrote that I impetuously decided to put on a skirt I have worn only once before when I was home alone. It is what I call a "regrettable shade of pink". It is also a rather shocking shade. But there is Spring in the air and I don't care.
I am sitting in front of my window which is open. I was reading "I Capture the Castle" but was captured myself by the bewitching breeze.
It is only 2:09 but it feels hours later. I don't know what the sun is doing but its presence is somewhat lacking.
Bright, sunny days are shallow things, anyway.
The breeze, that temptress, just caressed my cheek & whispered thoughts of rain in my ears.
I have just leaned up against the windowsill to get closer to the intoxicating air. I can hear sounds like raindrops hitting the pavement but I do not see any... Perhaps it is the leftover autumn leaves playing with the breeze.
I wish I could stick my hand out the window but I cannot. Darn window screens!
Ah! It is raining! I couldn't tell by looking at the street or our driveway but I can tell from our neighbour's driveway.

The rain song & scent have become very noticeable now. Though I still cannot see the rain. I can see the effects of it, though. The workmen across the street have stopped working & I just saw someone with an umbrella.
I still want to feel it, though.

My mind is made up:
I'm going outside!
Love, ineffable me

{A corner of my journal and my "regrettable pink" skirt.}

In case you were wondering, I did indeed go outside! I stood on the back porch for a minute or two and got speckled by the raindrops.
Ah, I am remembering how much I love spring. Especially since it feels like winter again here. :(
I cannot decide which I love more, spring or autumn. I seem to love each one most while it is happening. How quixotic of me! Or perhaps I am just forgetful. ;)


What is your favourite season?

Uppercase "I"

One day, I was doing my French homework, and I started thinking about the way I write the letter "I". I write it vertically, without two horizontal lines on each end. Like this: I. And I realized... I didn't used to write it that way! I used to write it with the horizontal lines. I became consumed with curiosity of when this change happened. So, I consulted my faithful journal which I kept from late 2000 to early 2009 and I found out something very interesting...
On January 1, 2006, I was writing my "I's" with the horizontal lines. The next entry, which was January 26, 2006, the horizontal lines were gone!
Strange, non?
I'm wondering now, what in the world happened that made me start writing my "I's" differently? I'm fairly certain it wasn't an intentional change... Was there someone I knew who wrote their "I's" that way and I unknowingly picked it up from them?
It does make me wonder... and I don't think I shall ever know. *sigh*

On a similar note, I forgot how therapeutic writing in my journal is. Today I picked up my journal with the intention of only writing a few lines. I ended up writing a two page entry! It was wonderful. :)