addendum; the promised Part 2

I found a fatal flaw in my previous post. In the two weeks since that entry, I've noticed the time frame wherein I wrote it, and it makes a difference.

I actually had just been quite put out by the whole independent industry for a few days, after having seen a movie I found particularly offensive and pointless (and I saw it edited, as is always the case). No one in the whole world, except my roommate, agrees with me on this point, and it really is a little irrelevant, so I'll leave it out; suffice it to say, although this movie was clean of language, anything graphic, etc., you can't edit a plot, and I didn't like the plot. Anyway, that night, I practically renounced everything I've been exposed to this entire semester; it was during this period that I wrote that entry. I was ready to walk away.

When I looked at my list of the interests I've fallen in and out with over time, I realized that I still enjoy all of them. I don't focus on them as much anymore, but I still get excited about them all and I still enjoy participating. I haven't removed myself completely from identifying with those who use ASL. I still enjoy explaining the Central Dogma of DNA (replication, etc.) Yes, I even still flirt. (Although I'm trying to kick the habit in its excess;])

Anyway, who says any of those things aren't my "schtick?" I think I said that mostly for two reasons:

1. I have a hard time imagining myself as just one thing. (This is nothing new; no one can compartmentalize themselves like they can people they don't know too well. No "band nerd" is just a "band nerd," to themselves.) I can't think of myself as "an artsy person." I can't think of myself as "a crocheter." (Oh. I used to crochet a lot. Elementary school.)

2. As a jack-of-all-trades (which is my schtick), and in my strivings to still be a master of them all, I tend to judge myself by the highest standards of the trade. For instance, when someone asks me if I'm a ballroom dancer, I rarely answer in the affirmative. Because, even though I danced for a couple years, I'm not Natalie Wakefield; neither am I, nor have I been, on any team. In short, I try not to offend the sensitivities of those who are, in my opinion, masters of the trade. Those to whom the schtick belongs.

I realize that this is probably ridiculous.

I've been told in no uncertain terms to develop new talents and learn new things. I realize I made a connection in my last post that might not have been entirely correct; just because my interests wax and wane doesn't mean I have to remove myself from the scene. Can't I just be everything? Because I said so? After all, you aren't defined by the activities you seek. I look back at the friends I've made during my participation in each of these activities, and I don't pigeonhole them any more than I pigeonhole myself. They're a lot more than just dancers, or independent art-enthusiasts. I still talk to them, I still value them, and I even still date some of them - and we don't have to be dancers together. We don't have to watch movies. We don't have to speak perfect English. (We can even end our sentences with prepositions, if we want. I recently read that was okay sometimes, anyway.) We just have to be people, with ins and outs and depth that reaches farther than just our Cuban action.

In conclusion, I'd like to say that tomorrow night, I'm going to Optimistic.'s to see a low-budget, independently-made, reportedly fantastic film tomorrow night. It sounds absolutely riveting, and I'm prepared to walk away a little changed, just like I usually do with independent film. (Also, I've researched this one.)

I'd also like to congratulate myself on using the word "schtick" four times in this entry. And, even as a non-Yiddish speaker, I won't be judged by any of you for it - not even those of you who are fluent.

this cannot be separated from the next post. which might take its time getting posted. ha. go figure.

::I wrote this two weeks ago.::

No matter what or when, I love Jack Johnson, Disney movies, a good jazz flute solo, my leather jacket, superhero hot dogs on my car's antenna, a good hot business suit, the Krishna temple in Spanish fork, photography, hot vases and high heels.

Lately I've been on an independent art kick, which is winding down. By lately, I mean the last year or so. I've seen tons of movies, listened to lots of music, made and organized fabulous Sundance trips, and when the mood struck, I've adopted the look.

In the back of my mind, I always knew all of this wasn't really my schtick. It's just a game I've been playing for awhile. My guess is, my closer friends knew it too; even the ones who inspired the game.

Where do these games come from, anyway? A couple years ago, it was me as a ballroom dancer. Before that, a sign language guru .... a bioinformatics major ...independent art ... a flirt ... a grammar officer ... the silent introvert (this one is just an acquaintance who stops by to catch up every few months).

Is it time for a new game? Is this all just part of the adventure of self-discovery?

Although my penchant for dress-up makes me look immature, I think I'll always be at least a little volatile like this. It makes life interesting, and it's not entirely a facade, because you can't help but get to know someone when you take adventures with them - even yourself.

This girl, Olympus. She loves to move, physically (dancing, ASL). She loves to express herself. She's drawn to conceptual science, but doesn't always have patience for it and never can apply it. She thrives on human interaction, but likes to be alone occasionally, too. She often prefers an empty apartment to a full one. She enjoys being meticulous ... sometimes and depending. She's a pretty meticulous teacher. Other times, she would rather throw caution to the wind. That's a phase thing, too. Some things you can't throw to the wind. She's learned to love variety and these days doesn't have much patience for sameness.

So those are some things I've learned about my friend Olympus, through our journeys together. Maybe I'll add to it later.

For the record, I still think the look is hot. That one isn't going anywhere soon. Call me a poser, but when the mood strikes, it'll come in full glory.

**

"Go in peace! I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."--Gandalf

what do you think when there's nothing to think about? (thank you, Scripture Scouts)

Warning: This is not innovative. Rather, something you've all probably done. I just felt like doing it. And who knows; one day I might do it again. Deal.

Today I was in the testing center. Taking a test. As I was sitting there, I decided to try and remember the things I was thinking about that were unrelated to my test. Here's what I can remember (I was in there for about 45 minutes).

-Ahhh ... hahhahaha:) ... I know why Robert Poste has that empty mechanical pencil along with this regular pencil. This eraser is no good. I should probably tell him so he knows not to separate them.

-What do you do when you don't have an eraser, anyway?
-Just don't make any mistakes.

-Wow, that kid looks like a kid I went on a date with a couple years ago.
-Hey, is that my ex-boyfriend's sister? I'll wait until she gets up and try to see. I can't tell from here.
-flippin is going to make fun of me for this.
-I'm starving. I wish ... oh yah, I have candy in my bag! Thank you, Mom.

-Dangit, the proctor is walking by. I don't think I'm supposed to be getting stuff out of my bag.

-Waiting ...

-I may as well write some stuff on my test.

-DANGIT. ::erases:: That wasn't so bad ... okay ... kinda bad, though:)

-She's going to think I'm cheating no matter what, cuz I keep watching all the people around me.

-Dude, that girl looks like my friend's wife. She isn't.

-Awww, geez. That girl who might have been my ex's sister has been replaced with someone else! grrr. That's what I get for paying attention to my test.

-OK, I'm not waiting anymore. That proctor is gone enough.

-Where is my candy? There are tons of Advil packets in here. I swear there's candy in here, too.

-Ooh, orange admist all the white packets. That's it.

-What the heck is on that M&M? ::laughs, then looks around guiltily:: Are those devil horns? I think these are from Halloween.
-This Three Musketeers smells like a tire store. Has it always been this way?
-I am never going to remember all this.
-Listening to yourself think is maddening. We as humans never listen to ourselves think. I wish I could have some sort of narrator or computer program for this, because there is no accurate way to record it all in a pure state. It's the test-subject phenomenon; this should always be done blind.
-This test question is technically unethical.
-Uggghhhh, not again. ::erases:: That was better that time.
-My ex's sister's replacement has been replaced! Man, that must be the magic chair where you get done fast. I should have taken my test in that one. Except that's one of the blue chairs that I HATE.
-::jump:: The girl in front of me just flipped her hair onto my desk, and it made a significant sound. That's impressive.
-Oh, I know her. Hello!
-I think she's married, right? .... Yep, I was right.
-I wonder if that guy is married.
-Dang these people in front of me ... maybe when he puts his bag down I'll be able to ... nope. Oh, well.
-I wonder who is married around me? I like to guess on this one before I check...
-I wonder if there's a statistically significant "look" to married people? Cuz I'm often right.

-It isn't that I found that kid particularly attractive. Although he may be. I wasn't really paying attention. I just like to guess.
-This kid next to me is that guy who was studying in that group out on the lawn as I was coming in.
-Not married.
-I was right.
-He's been in here since before I was.
-Hey, I haven't wanted any candy in awhile. That's pretty good.
...
And, cut.

::Editor's Note::

Just for you, Mom, I fixed the 'crap's. Also, a bit of a redemption: I read through a lot of this and noticed that this was I think the only entry where I used the word at all. :)

bathroom humor?

So I was in the restroom by the bowling alley in the Wilk just now, and as I was washing my hands, the vague thought came to my mind:

"There is a definite imbalance here in girl:guy ratio. Do only girls go bowling these days?"

I. Am. An. Idiot.

fashionistas

I just saw this girl that I originally thought was dressed up for some type of "wear a silly costume day" or something. Then I realized she was just wearing stuff that's in fashion now. Brown leggings with a blue calf-length dress, a fat belt of a different, unrelated color, and another unrelated color sweater over the whole ensemble.

The things we do to ourselves.

A thought I had yesterday: When we're done reliving the 80's, what are we going to do? The 90's were mostly a continuation of the 80's and then a slow cycle back to the 70's, unless I'm wrong, which is possible. Are we going to think of something new this time? If so ... what? Do I want to know? If it's something brand new, no one will know which fashions to avoid to keep their children from laughing at their photos in years to come. That's rough. Going at this blind is unfair.

my phone

It once was lost, but now it's found.

Also, it's a beautiful day. How can you not just smile as you walk around out there? The grass smells like summer; people are wearing shorts, people on Brigham Square are handing out fliers like there's no tomorrow.

I have survived my last winter in Utah.
(um. for now, anyway.)

this is how I feel today

Someone told me once that there should be a lot of photos on my blog, by virtue of my name. I agreed.

Thanks to my mom for taking these amazing pictures. Couldn't have come on a better day.

I'm an activist.

Hahahha.

"An activist against global warming ..."-Robert Poste

No. I'm an activist against unbalanced presentation. Check this out. Finally, a balanced article regarding Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth."

wake up

Sometimes, the best part of the night is when you wake up, sigh, think, "That was just a dream," and settle back in to, well, sleep it off.

So where have those dreams gone?

Every one of my dreams in the last week has been a real-life take on a situation I'm actually in. I wake up and think, "That's what could happen if I don't get control over this part of my life?" It's like watching a really good movie, like *Crash or something - not really fun to watch, but when you're finished, you've learned something and you can really say it was worth your time, even if you're disturbed for awhile afterward.

I was never under the impression, however, that dreams were supposed to be worth my time. Aren't there enough waking hours to teach me the lessons I'm supposed to be learning? Think about it, though ... you'd rather not learn about relationships from breaking up; you'd rather not learn about finances by bouncing checks; you'd rather not learn about God by being separated from Him. In our minds, we'd like to learn everything in a "happy place." Because we are who we are, it doesn't work that way.

There could be a lot worse things. Really ... it was just a dream. It really is just like watching a hardcore movie. It's over, I woke up, and now it's time to change a little. That works. I should be saying thanks.

*edited

loaves and fishes

I'm having a loaves-and-fishes moment with my nylons.

I swear I've never owned this many pairs of nylons (especially without runs or holes in them; especially not black opaque v. black sheer), but somehow, every Sunday, I have multiples of everything to choose from. I'm not buying more and I'm pretty sure I'm not stealing from my roommates, considering none of us wear the same size.

Something must be going right in my life:)

take my breath away

One of the best writing teachers I've ever had said that, for marketability, it's best not to write about things that are close to your heart, while you're in the heat of the moment. No one else is feeling what you're feeling, and you'll tend to forget that if it's really poignant for you at the time. It's easy to go off into uncharted waters with your readers, and subsequently lose them completely.

I'm going to take that chance.

I'll preface with the fact that this was the grand finale concert of a jazz festival devoted as a tribute to Maynard Ferguson. Jazz charts aside, Maynard Ferguson has even topped the pop charts. The man combined two of my very favorite artists in much of what his band did -- Maynard Ferguson (ha), and Stan Kenton, whose band he played in early in his career. Kenton's ballads are part of his (Kenton's) signature sound. If you've ever heard "I've Never Been in Love Before" or "Then I'll Be Tired of You," you probably have a taste of what that means. He screams his heart out, and then drops the bottom out of it until it's barely a whisper, and you have to lean forward a little so as not to miss anything. It was really fun to hear a lot of that Kenton personality in these Ferguson charts. What a blend.

My dear friend flippin said tonight, "One of the things I love about jazz is that it does things with music that an orchestra shouldn't do." His comment sums up a lot of what we heard at this concert.

"Stratospheric" is a term commonly used to describe Maynard Ferguson's playing. He warped that trumpet of his -- and his flugel horn, and his trombone, and his baritone, so we saw tonight -- into sounds that should never be able to come out of a piece of brass. It brings to life the very instrument itself and makes you think that, if you could touch it, you'd feel something special. "The high work" was always done by Maynard Ferguson.

The second half of this concert really blew me away. (Although, if you asked my date, he'd say that started with the Big Bad Voodoo Daddy chart that scared me halfway out of my seat with its opening chord - that was probably in the first 45 minutes of the night.)

It opened with video of Maynard Ferguson himself, taking the audience through his glory days of the 70's (what a collar) all the way up to one of the last performances of his life, in July 2006 in New York City. He died on August 23 of the same year. What a player. The guy was a showman, and toward the end of his life you could see it giving him just this immense satisfaction to sit next to that baby grand and sing through that instrument. It was kind of a sobering experience to watch. You think about the things in your life that YOU have that kind of reverence for.

So the lights go up on the all-star band of the night. Couldn't have asked for better casting. Men who have played for many meaningful bands -a lot of Maynard Ferguson's own. What else, for a tribute concert? BYU's got more clout than I realized. This includes the lead player from Tower of Power. :)

Second ballad, second half. The show was excellent up til this point, but that ballad dropped my jaw, pulled my hand to my heart and melted me to my seat. The trumpet player, Eric Mata-something, just made you want to lie down, and then Steve Lindeman pulled this lyrical magic out of nowhere - I swear, it was Chopin - and laid into that piano. I couldn't handle it. I was almost gone, but after "Danny Boy," flippin inquired after the condition of my heart. My hand stayed where it was.

Of course, the band wasn't done with us, yet.

"MacArthur Park." I have a penchant during many performances to want to call people (usually family) and let them hear a snippet of what's going on via speakerphone. I know, it's bad. Anyway, my dad educated us growing up on lots of Maynard Ferguson, and this is one of the most recognizable of all of his charts. I can't tell you how rough it was on me to have zero reception at this point in the concert. (Don't worry, my phone brightness was set to zero.)

You know that feeling where you just really wish Dad could be there to hear this? Where you feel almost lonely that he isn't sitting in the chair next to you so you can give him a sideways glance to confirm that he is, indeed, enjoying this as much as you knew he would? You feel this physical reminder of the fact that your family is 1200 miles away and can't be here with you to share in the joy and emotion of this moment, because you know for them it would also be pure elation.

I missed you tonight, Dad.

So the concert finished out on a good note. A standing ovation for that living fountain of expression. A complete experience, until Ray Smith turned around and said, "All right, here's what you've all been waiting for."

(Another key Ray Smith quote from the night - "I was watching this on YouTube...")

He was right, by the way. Their encore turned out to be the song flippin and I had been refraining from talking about during the entire concert.

Has anyone ever heard "Birdland?"

Sorry. That may have been one of the moments where I lost you,readers. If they'd have said that sentence over the mike tonight, though, you wouldn't be able to hear yourself think right now because of the roar from the audience.

Instead, they just started to play. We were beside ourselves. When I think of Maynard Ferguson, I think of "Birdland." flippin has the recording of the guys who actually wrote the song first (The Weather Report). I can't say anymore about this song right now because I'm too emotional:). I'll lose you the rest of the way.

In short, I believe this concert overshadowed the former placeholder for "best jazz concert of my life" -- Count Basie's band. (This might be because I saw Count Basie's band something like five or six years ago. The memory has faded.) I felt like the luckiest girl in the world tonight. What a legend.

May everyone have a passion. May everyone feel this way sometime soon.

**

My only two disappointments:

• No flute solos.

• No "Route 66." Admittedly not a Maynard Ferguson standard. I like it anyway.

The detail-ish highlights of the night:

• a couple of HOT drum solos. I nearly finished flippin's comment, which described the man well: "To be a good drummer, you have to have two things: A sense of rhythm, and a sense of humor."

• A TRICK during "MacArthur Park," in which the band started to leave the solo section, gave a good intro back into the main idea of the song, and then - JUST KIDDING! - pulled out one last solo! Are you kidding me? Beautiful!

• one trumpet solo in particular that made me laugh like crazy, it was so genius

• that freaking hot surprise ballad stuff from Lindeman

• the fact that BYU's own Ray Smith directed that all-star band

• the way Dennis diBlasio hugged his colleagues after the solos

• The way Ray Smith didn't kill flippin with his claw-cane (this was a small worry for a short time)

• the fact that I took a PERFECT person with me for this concert. I know we'll still be friends, even after that concert. (I worry about that sometimes, especially in the really good concerts. I make a fool out of myself at jazz concerts...but the really good ones are particularly embarrassing. I've been known to go alone to these concerts, rather than go with someone who just doesn't understand.)

Living Legends Post #2:: a dream revitalized

I have this dream for my kids to grow up having at least some familiarity with Spanish and ASL, besides English.

Spanish is incredibly useful and also so beautiful. I love to read it out loud so I can pretend I actually speak the language - even my roommates (who all served Spanish-speaking missions) said I sounded halfway decent the one day we did morning scriptures in Spanish. I should revive my "simulated foreign language housing" idea for my apartment so I can keep learning that one. It'd be great if my kids could learn some of this one while they're young and it's easy. It would be great if my husband could help me out in this one ... I couldn't take them too terribly far on my own, just yet.

ASL. Kids can use their hands at least three months before they can speak. I say, the earlier they can actually tell me what they want instead of screaming, the happier we'll all be. Also, this is another beautiful language, and really a pretty easy one to learn, too, at least conversationally. I've been teaching my little cousins ASL, and they think it's a pretty fun game. Sometimes they even remember what I've taught...

I'm also a little biased in the ASL department because I grew up with a deaf friend who was always feeling left out of things. How hard would that be? Kids have it rough growing up without having actual communication barriers. I wish I'd have known a little more when I actually lived around her and maybe could have made a bigger difference in her life.

When I was little, I told my dad that I was going to learn every language in the world - even Portuguese (the most exotic language my little mind could imagine at the time). He said, "Oh, really!" and tucked me into bed.

It appears the idea never really left me...