The Taste of Summer

I can not believe the number of positive votes my last post has gotten! I can not believe how hot it is! Some things just defy comprehension I guess:) Like romance.

The journey to understand that enigma continues I'm afraid! But that's part of the adventure, isn't it?

Fortunately when one episode ends, another always begins, and pretty soon you've got too much on your mind to spend much time agonizing over matters of the heart:)

The six chicks continue to grow; they are now outside enjoying warm breezes in a modified coop. The garden has begun producing tiny sprouts, and the trees are so lush with greenery it's almost overwhelming when I look out and remember the long, cold winter.

It's wonderful to be outside, completely enraptured by a long summer novel, drinking ice water and swatting flies away as they swarm relentlessly around my head. Just about a month ago I thought pretty much every living thing had frozen!

Matched?

It's been a while since I just blogged for the sake of blogging, and I've really begun to miss it.

I've been struggling for the legal tender as Jackson Brown would put it, so out of necessity, my writing for free has suffered a setback.

Strangely enough, I have an update to share on my very first blog, the one about the "matchless matching sites". Not that the sites you pay to join have suddenly produced results--far from it. I've basically abandoned all online dating sites that require a fee. But I've joined a free site I am cautiously optimistic about.

At first it seemed the site was destined to be another dead end, and I had started telling myself--grudgingly--I would be alone forever. Then I was matched with a guy in my area who I seem to have a lot in common with, although we actually come from completely different sides of the world.

So far the relationship is still in the very beginning stages--I hesitate to even call it a friendship. But we have begun texting and emailing on a fairly regular basis, and seem to just intuit things about each other based on our understanding personalities.

We came by this understanding through two extremely different journeys, but somehow I think that prepared us for the experience of knowing each other. Maybe I'm wrong, and things aren't actually going as well as I think--we haven't even met in person yet because there are at least three feet of snow blanketing our area. But given my experience with getting to know some one online, which is all-too extensive now because I don't drive, don't want to, and must meet people via computer at first in most cases, I think things are just where they ought to be. We'll see what happens in spring:)

News

Haven't checked in for a while; I've been really busy. My mother and brother and I are moving at the beginning of October! And not to another rental or even another house in town--to 7 acres right in Michigan's wine country!!

We're not all turning into wine growers all of the sudden--although wouldn't that be fantastic? We're just thrilled to be going somewhere with more space. The house is bigger, there's a one-stall stable, and a huge garage that my brother has already basically branded his name on:)

We're all beside ourselves with excitement; the little town life of Saint Joseph is just not for us. My mom already bought a chicken coop on eBay she's having shipped to the new house (the owners are becoming great friends, and they're okay with letting us store things there until moving day) and I'm already making plans.

Two days ago I bought a book on the care and keeping of chickens for eggs--there will be no slaughtering on our farm--as well as a book called The Encyclopedia of Country Living, which I think will help us toward our ultimate goal of being as self-sufficient and resourcefull as possible.

Our house is a sea of boxes and packing materials, but what an adventure!

My Progress

Have you ever read a book you didn't want to end? Have you ever felt so in love with the characters that although you looked forward to having finished the book, you dreaded saying goodbye?

That's how I'm finding War and Peace to be. I absolutely love Tolstoy, although even I can tell that his words are distorted by the British translators who took on the challenge of this giant volume. My favorite thing is how one situation that might seem at first unique to the characters is gradually broadened to all Russians, allowing me to easily carry the idea and include all of society:)

I'm beginning to see how we're all unique and the same simultaneously. I've chuckled at Dulkhovsky's arrogance; it reminds me of a lot of (usually young) people I know. I have cried for Pierre, who in his own way is just as awkward and clumsy as I am, which I absolutely love.

And I had to smile at the familiar names of one of the key romantic pairs. Although I've only grown up with fleeting images of Boris and Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle, I'm familiar with a lot of Russian things, so I picked up on the two famous names immediately as I read. Who would have thought that somewhere long ago somebody thought it'd be funny to name two cartoon villains after two of the most famous characters in Russian literature?

Joining the Well-Read Few

I've just begun the seminal War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, and I'm already reminded how much I love this author.

I've read some short stories by Tolstoy and squeaked through Anna Karinina, but 'til now avoided his best-known novel because I wanted to be different, and I thought I could achieve that by getting to know the author through his more obscure works. Reading this novel at last, even though I'm only a few chapters in, has proven to me that I was wrong. The soul of the author is in War and Peace, just as Da Vinci meant when he said "every artist somehow paints himself". Tolstoy has done just that, spread over a number of characters real and fictional.

Reading Russian literature often makes me very lonely though; I'm more sharply aware that I may be the only American (especially these days) interested in Russian history--and especially Russian literature. But it's amazing the connection I feel to that mysterious country. Reading the introduction to W&P, which mentions that Tolstoy was a general in the Crimean War, I feel an even stronger connection, and I'll tell you why.

I believe in a past life, I was a soldier in the Crimean War. I may have even been under Tolstoy's command, hence my adoration. But even before I'd come to any conclusions about who I was in a past life, I loved Russia so much it brought tears to my eyes--for no reason at all. My family is of mainly German and Swedish descent. So what else could be the reason for this connection I've always felt, except that I fought (and probably died) for the love of my former country?

I just had to share my excitement about Count Tolstoy with somebody; excuse my rambling on. I've just learned SO much from everything I've read so far by him, I can only imagine what his magnum opus will teach me. And I am a very enthusiastic student!

Morning Ebullience

Don't you just love the morning? This one's already almost over, but I've really enjoyed it. There's nothing like a cup of fresh coffee--or two, or three--to get you excited about the day.

Because I live at home with two anti-morning people (brother and mom), I find that I usually have to tone down my enthusiasm when I just get up. I don't want them to hate me because I'm optimistic:) Blogging gives me the opportunity to get my enthusiasm out.

But the morning is so full of promise, and it's fun to make a mental list of everything I have to do--I actually look forward to a full plate--and really fun to accomplish it later on.

I've always preferred sunrises to sunsets, too; I think they're the symbol of being given another chance. Who wouldn't love that?

En el Girosol

I finished The Sunflower early this morning, which means it took me a mere five days; four if you count last night and the wee hours of this morning as one day.

I have to recommend it! I know this blog isn't really a reading circle kind of place, but as some one in love with language, I have to say this book is just the right mix of sweet, romantic sentiment and textbook-from-the-school-of-hard-knocks to start your summer off right.

Plus it's an extremely fast read. Had I not forced myself to go to bed these last few nights, I could've finished it in one or two sittings:)

Rainy Sunshine

Just got Richard Paul Evan's The Sunflower at my beloved library; read three chapters in the back of the building in a comfy chair:) I'm feeling weepy but I'm addicted to this novel!

Erin Go Braugh!

I'll tell you why St. Patricks Day is my favorite holiday when there's not a drop of Irish blood in my veins and no stomach for Guinness that's been shipped overseas; Ireland and the Irish are in my soul:)

I know that sounds corny, but there's no other way to articulate it. In 2004 I studied English, Culture, and History there for four months, and probably absorbed more about the country itself than any of the 21 other lucky students from my college studying there.

We were on the West Coast during a time when I was clumsier than usual, so I got very familiar with the soft, wet Irish soil. It's nothing like the hard turf we have in Michigan, where if you dig down deep enough the soil turns into impenitrable clay.

Aside from that there is the sheer breathtaking beauty of the wild Irish coast; rolling green fields making the dark, spiny trees stand out like something from El Greco, wind that will knock you over, and always the spray of the sea everywhere. Once you've been on the Irish coast long enough to see its frightening beauty, it's  easy to imagine how joyce, Yeats, Keats, Isabella Augusta, and Seamus Heaney among countless others could've seen mythical beings there with their mind's eye.

The music is as much a presence as the daily rainbows I saw streaked across the sky there too; I feel like I almost learned some Irish while I was there, merely by listening to people sing in it. One of my favorite songs was recorded in Amerca by Sting with the Irish band  The Cheiftans. The song is traditional Irish I think, which of course Sting doesn't speak--as one might imagine!

But some one on the island told me Sting learned the words phonetically, and that the title means "You Are My Hero." Here is the chorus I dedicate to my dear Ireland:

    'Sé mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear,
    'Sé mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear,
    Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin
    Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear'

Poem teaser

Hi everyone! I just posted a new poem at amelialee33.blogspot.com; here is a taste:

Poor John

Last night in the fog
I thought of Keats:
a thing of beauty is eternal joy...

It's a nice little ditty; you should all come and check it out. I'd love to see you there!

--Amelia

World Reliance

Another disaster. More horrendous pictures online and looped through CNN so you see them over and over. When I first heard about the 7+ magnitude earthquake in Haiti last week I was absolutely flabbergasted. The misery of a Hurricane Katrina-esque catastrophe was actually happening again.

I imediately flashed on on of my roommates in college--a Haitian native. I used to listen to her speaking Creole to her family on the telephone and think it was the most beautiful language I'd ever heard; a mixture of French, Latin and an Indo-European dialect. I was so worried for her when the earthquake hit.

She herself might have been well out of harm's way if she chose to stay in the States after college, but I wasn't sure. And then what about her family? I really cared about her when we shared an apartment with two other girls my senior year; I'd hate to think of her suffering like the people I saw plastered all over the TV--mourning their loved ones in agony.

Today I realize that a lot of people must feel the same kind of insignificance I feel when a crisis hits. You want so desperately to do anything you can to help, but even that seems so pitifully inadequate.

Lucky for me the cell phone companies have made it easy to donate. Text the word HAITI to 90999 and magically your money is sent for relief--hopefully. I know that the call to use this service has gone out all over Facebook, and just that knowledge makes me proud to be human. We can be pretty generous, resourceful creatures when we want to be, can't we? Yesterday I even heard that on January 22, George Clooney will host a telethon (aired on all three major networks--maybe the best thing to come out of September 11 was learning how successful telethon formula can be for raising money) to aid the relief effort, and that will help.

I'm so grateful to be in a country whose president will pledge $100 million in relief in the midst of our own hard recession,  and proud of the world for rising to the challenge of helping an utterly helpless country. Helping as a nation is what makes us all feel just a little more significant, doesn't it?

Of course the tragedy and suffering for the nearly obliterated island is still unimaginable. And I'm sure if I were to sit down and really think about it too much my heart would literally break for the completely innocent victims and the people they love. But it's a comfort to know that when the chips are down and somebody really needs help, the International community will do anything it can to lift a sufferer's burden. I just had to share some of my disjointed thoughts on this most current event.

Sorry to Have Missed Them

By "them", I mean the American Music Awards, which really didn't catch my attention until I read the comment on my blog left by Sally G. Thanks Sally, by the way!

This morning I saw Adam Lambert's music video for his new single, "For Your Entertainment", and I'm really sorry I missed the AMAs where he debuted his single, which was somewhat controversial.

Speaking of that, I've begun to realize that the new "thing" for musians these days is to create as many jaw-droppers as possible on stage. Personally, I'm not sure how I feel about that; can't people just rely on aquiring a fan base for their good work?

I've always been the kind of music fan who listens to music alone in her room though, so I guess I'm not a very good critic of the new "action" style of musicality. Still, what's wrong with following the likes of Bruce Springsteen or Bonnie Raitt--or even Jimi Hendrix and Janis Jopln? These artists were luminous and brave enough to just wow people with their voices. Imagine that.

That said, I am sorry I missed the AMAs. I would have liked to see Adam Lambert's performance, though I suspect it would have shocked me just as much as Lady Gaga's at the Video Music Awards, given what people have said about it since! Lambert is more unique though, in that he actually has an incredible voice and was my choice to win American Idol last year.

Lady G's Redemption

I am pleased to say that after Lady Gaga's Video Music Awards performance disturbed me to the point of blogging about it's stomach-turning effects, she has happily regained a fan.

Her newest video for "Bad Romance" seems to almost be a direct response to those of us who found her live performance in poor taste considering the death of Michael Jackson.

Starting with the title itself--"Bad Romance" (emphasis mine), Lady G. appears to be paying homage to Jackson's phenomenally successful 1982 album, Bad. From there the video gets very dark and characteristically--for LG--bizarre.

There's a little fake blood, but much, much less than there was at the VMAs, and there are "monsters" dancing around. But I think that is an amazingly well-handled tribute to Jackson's enormously successful Thriller video. His video had monsters dancing around as well--though they were not nearly as beautiful or strange as Lady Gaga's. Hers more resemble models, while his were the stereotypical zombies.

The monsters in Lady G.'s video and even the singer herself bend their elbows and curl their fingers into claws during one long dance sequence in "Bad Romance", which seems to be borrowing some of Thriller's famous choreography very tastefully.

It's long over-due, but I am delighted that Lady G. (whether told to by her managers or not) has made this gesture of goodwill toward a deceased icon she earlier insulted. It's tardiness might make it somewhat of a burnt offering, but I think overall "Bad Romance" is a very well-conceived video to redeem the young artist.

New Blog Entry!

Everyone should go to www.amelialee33.blogspot.com and check out my latest blog entry. It's already received some positive feedback on Facebook, and I would love to get your opinions too!

--Amelia

Nauseating VMAs

Last night I watched the entire Video Music Awards for what turned out to be only about a 3-minute preview of the documentary about Michael Jackson's "This Is It" tour, and found out I must be getting old, because much of the show disgusted me.

One of the first performers was the much-lauded Lady Gaga, in what started out to be a very pretty skit with costumes and choreography--a new song of hers called “Paparazzi”. But then things just got weird. She was all in white, dancing with and in between others in white, but then one member of her entourage wheeled another actor onto the stage in a wheelchair, and everyone surrounded Lady G.. When she emerged “blood” started pouring from her chest. It was shocking and very strange. I've seen a lot of interpretations of "art" in all its forms, and gotten something out of it; if this was supposed to be art or some kind of statement, it was completely over my head.

The performance ended with the singer being hoisted up on a noose like she’d been hanged or hanged herself--weird. On a night where much was said about making the event a tribute to Michael Jackson, Lady G. seemed to have ignored the message, and made her whole performance about being chased by the paparazzi, who it’s common knowledge hounded Michael Jackson, spewing rumors and innuendo about him until it was obviously too much to take, until even an acquittal was not enough to undo the damage done by a horrendous, slanderous, heart-breaking trial.

I think Lady G. is only about 17 years old, so there’s a good chance she missed most of what Michael Jackson had to put up with. But somebody should have told this child that what she had in mind for a performance was just a little off-color considering what happened in June and that some of MJ's family would be at the show. Of course most of her audience were probably too young to know what MJ endured, but some of them must know about Princess Diana, right? She couldn't have known MTV was previewing MJ's documentary that night and that it would draw a lot of "old timers" like myself who loved him. Still...MTV should have been a little more cognizent of the diversity of their audience--in the end, all just music lovers.

Not to mention, there have been a long, long stream of celebrities hounded by the paparazzi to within--or beyond--an inch of their lives. How could she make light of that? Am I just not getting it? Am I that old and jaded at 27 that I have completely missed the point of what Lady Gaga was trying to say?

When she won an award later that night, she at least had the decency to declare it “for the gays,” which I took as an affront to the media that has lately accused her of being a hermaphrodite. I was glad she at least had the sense to be humble in that victory. But her performance seared itself onto my memory, and ruined the rest of the show. Luckily I found out when coming online to write this blog that the MJ preview is available for viewing--so in the future I can skip the whole head-pounding, stomach-churning, inappropriate, insensitive VMAs and just stay on the ironically "safe" side--the Internet the day after.

New Original Poetry!!

Instead of just posting them, I thought I'd direct you to a couple new poems of mine that are now on a website for Buddhist thinkers and just general philosophers. I hope you like my new work!

http://thegoldenlantern.com/poems/amelia/amelia3.htm

and

http://thegoldenlantern.com/poems/amelia/amelia4.htm

Missing Michael

I don't know about anyone else here, but I'm still kind of in disbelief that Michael Jackson is dead. I feel very alone in my grief, and it's been my experience that to share it with others helps a lot. I'm sure there must be some one out there who feels as badly as I do-- a little like I did on September 12, 2001-- walking around in shock like the walking wounded on a battlefield. So here's my attempt at articulating my (all too short) experience with MJJ.

Born right at the height of his popularity, I grew up listening to the "Bad" album. My mother used to sing "Smooth Criminal" to me when I was little because "Annie are you okay?" sounds like "Amy are you okay?" and she calls me Amy. I remember dancing to the Bad album with my best friend at the time, us calling ourselves Michael and Janet Jackson...my best friend was a boy, so this wasn't strange:)

A few years later I moved with my family from New Jersey to Michigan, and really didn't think about Michael very much for several years. In the early '90s we got "re-aquainted" when he released "You Are Not Alone." I was an extremely angst-ridden adolescent, and this song meant the world to me, as I often felt very, very alone.

During those years I read a biography of Michael Jackson that really exposed--even more so than his music--the amazing person this world would lose in 2009. He was such an unbelievable talent, and his heart was so big it baffles me.

He was tragic and beautiful, so tortured, so broken-- my heart could not help but go out to him. He was much deeper, much more sensitive, much more passionate than anything I could ever describe. My heart couldn't help but go out to him and wish him happiness.

I used to listen to his Dangerous album--new at that time--and I was so moved by his music I can hardly find the words. Michael loved everyone. As taboo as it is now to believe in him, I whole-heartedly endorse his aquittal of any wrong done to the kid whose family brought him to court.

I truly believe that once in a great while, there are people who live on a seperate plane-- like Vincent Van Gogh-- artists who are so tortured by the rigormorale and daily strain that they must live in their own world, lest they be destoryed inside by our own. Incidentally, Van Gogh is my favorite painter for this very reason; he was too fragile, too beautiful to live very long on this savage Earth. These men inspired me and made me miserable, broke my heart and touched my soul...it all sounds so trite, so corny I wish there was another way to say it, but I think sometimes the same words used over and over are appropriate--especially in remembrance.

This weekend I was numb to everything, even while visiting family and deciding where to move-- it's become an all-too-familiar feeling. My father died a year and a half ago, and a few years before that Johnny Cash, the musician I had always associated with my father. Though I knew Johnny was in bad shape toward the end of his life and I knew his heart was broken without June, I somehow always thought he would be alive. I never imagined living in a world without a living Johnny Cash. When he died, it was like my own father did. I cried and mourned his loss almost as much as Dad.

Michael Jackson was very similar. Though of course he bore no resemb;ence at all to my strong, wonderful father or the sweet-faced Johnny Cash, Michael had the same brilliance and kindness that those other two men in my life had. And I never imagined I would outlive him either. When it happened it was like some one had torn away a piece of my identity.

Michael sang "hold you" the same way I say "hold you" when cooing with babies or pets: he dropped the "l" so it sounded like "hoed" you. "Hoed me like the River Jordan..."

As a writer I'm feeling very lost, given the recent epidemic that seems to have stricken our entertainers. Farah Fawcett and Michael died on the same day, Billy Mays a day or two later, Ed McMahan...it's unbelievable who we've lost in such a short time. As a result of such sudden loss, my heart feels hollow. When some of the brightest stars suddenly fall, how do we light up the sky?

Forgive this rambling blog; I just needed to bleed out some of this putrid sorrow and try to feel whole again.

Old Style Poetry Meets Online Dating

I've recently become obsessed with the haiku style of poetry. I liked it before, but now I can't stop applying the ancient 5-7-5 rhythm to everything in my life. As I've mentioned before, my experience with online dating has been pretty dismal. This little haiku came from me trying to encapsulate all of those misadventures into a single 3 line poem. I hope you enjoy:)

So Much for Love 
Pushed aside again
Can I take much more abuse?
Romance loves its toys

City Pride from Michelle's Garden

The Necessity of Beauty

Right now I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of a book I bought online, called he Well and the Mine, by an author whose future fame I am sure will make her name easier for me to remember!

The book is set in a small mining community in 1931, and the start of the Great Depression. All is centered around 9-year-old Tess, who witnesses one of her neighbors throw her infant down a well in her desperation to survive.

It's heart-wrenching to think about, but also kind of inspiring in a way. In times similarly desperate at times as those of the early 1930s, I like an author that tells a straight, honest story of overcoming hardships in whatever way necessary.

In my own struggle to make it as a writer, I have often despaired that there's no need for it any more, but this novel proves me wrong. Beauty is always a necessity, maybe an even greater necessity when times are hard. It helps keep me keep my resolve to keep writing, keep pushing for an "in" somewhere, to buy a book when money is so tight.

I figure if one woman can do it, another certainly can, and must. Any story can be uplifting in its own way, and The Well and the Mine is a wonderful testament to that.

The Destination

"Roar!" we cry in a single voice--
raging against the Fall.
Let us combine our energies,
and fight the inevitable, so-called.

Let the rain cascade down upon us--
tears from Heaven caress the skin--
may we soak up the challenge,
open our hearts,
and shirk the malaise within.

"Roar!" shout our souls in determination,
enough of the apathy.
Following our masterful leader,
let us rage into history.

May we work hard and cherish our values.
May we always keep a diamond ahead.
The diamond of hope,
the diamond of chance--
may we pursue
with exultant tread.

Life is not just about the road,
it's not just about sites we pass.
Our future together lies with the dream
we all can share at last.

"Roar!" we command of each other
"fie the devastation!"

Let us forge a path
through jungles of fire
and believe in the cool, fresh
destination.

Copyright 2009, Amelia Cypert

Is Cynicism a Virtue or a Vice?

As a freelance writer, I cast my net as far as I can--particularly to New York, a Mecca in the writing world. But I'm finding it extremely difficult to entirely surrender my trust to Internet strangers.

Of course I am an adult, and I know that in this world, if you want to get ahead you have to take risks and meet new people. But let me relate the following story to illustrate my point.

Earlier this week on craigslist.com, I sent my resume to a small publishing house in New York that said they were seeking interns to promote their titles. I thought this would be a good way to get my foot in the literary door, and gain a little credit for my efforts in the process. Not academic credit; I graduated five years ago-- street cred.

Yesterday the editor responded with interest and started walking me through the process of being an unpaid promoter for her publishing house's titles. At first, everything seemed to be going well, and I was anxious to get started reading and reviewing the books in her website's catalog.

Then she asked for my mailing address, which I understood was necessary for her to send me copies of the books to review. Still, I was reluctant to provide any personal information without having signed a contract, or read any privacy practices on the publisher's website or anything. When I called her on this, the lady said it was a valid concern, but that it had never come up before, and that most people just give their address right off.

That got me thinking; was I being too cynical? Was it wrong to question this tiny little publishing house's motives and ask for proof she wasn't going to sell my address? I decided pretty quickly that it didn't matter.

In this day and age of identity theft and Internet crimes never before dreamed of, it is perfectly legitimate to be suspicious. Maybe as a freelance writer, basically at the mercy of anyone who will take an interest in my work, it's stupid to be so guarded. But is it?

The last thing I need in this world is to have my identity stolen and the inevitable hassles it would create. My life is full of enough legal wrangling, believe me, without the added difficulty of trying to reclaim my identity from some shadowy third party who bought my address from an equally dubious publisher.

In the end I am sure I've done the right thing, but I really wonder about myself. Is it wrong that I led the publisher to believe I would be her unpaid intern for an entire day, then reneged and got suspicious? I can't believe it is. Where was her Privacy Policy? Where were her Terms of Use? When conducting on online business of any kind, aren't these kind of "must haves" for building trust?

Just a thought:)

--AA

Matchless Matching Site

I recently joined an online "matchmaker" service, under the expectation that I would actually meet somebody worth paying for a month of matchmaking to meet.

So far, I've been sorely disappointed with the list of potentials--not one of them has seemed more exciting to me than the depressingly incompatible men aroud me.

Can anyone else relate to this problem? I thought I was going to finally get somewhere with my search for Mr. Right, now I'm forced to admit matching online is about as much of a crapshoot as matching in he real world.

--AA