Too many cliché blog/photo album/song titles have already been coined using the word "Fall," so instead of adding to them, I'll just use this as a title.

Fall is my favorite season for a number of reasons that I'm not going to write here, mostly because I have a long To-Do list (written on graph paper) and wet hair.

(Detour: I've been noticing that I have a huge problem with hiding behind excuses and with complaining. When I decide to write the "Things I'm Bad at Blog," being grateful and taking responsibility will be mentioned.)

But one of the reasons that I love it is that Fall always seems to have a soundtrack. I notice music more in the Fall: the combination of colors and sound seems more magical than during any other season. I feel like I should be taking a picture of everything, like every moment is too beautiful to not be captured; and therefore remember and re-lived.

But since I didn't take all of those pictures, I'm going to borrow them from Google. 

http://microscopiq.com/category/music/

Song: Barlights (http://ournameisfun.bandcamp.com/track/barlights) from about 2:25 onward. I love the feeling of looking at all that GOLD on the trees and hearing "And for the first time in a long time, I feel alive, I feel alive."

http://shadowmountainstudiosllc.com/contact_us

 

 

I feel like this, when listening to "Everything's Magic" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oM3ykGr6Nj4&ob=av2e) is self-explanatory. What's more magical than the sky looking like that?!

Okay, well maybe a lot of things, like babies being born or blueberry pancakes, but still, it's pretty magical.

This one's all mine. I took it from inside my car - it's VOLT, the lighting shop on Wall Street in Bend, Oregon.

And when I see glowing lights like that, I hear "Come Fly with Me" in my head, and then I sing it all day. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEFw0_iRE10)

http://www.nrichienews.com/2010_04_01_archive.html

And people dressed like this makes me hear that so-catchy-it's-upsetting Sugarland song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iDPw_qjhtM)... because to like someone even when they're bundled up like a goober means you really like them.

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And I realize that a lot of these things you can see any time, but I see them more in the Fall. Not that they occur more often - they're just more noticeable, they're more clear. They're more like scenes in an indie movie, complete with soundtrack.

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I also like Fall because it's an obvious, unmistakable, straightforward sign that life changes. It's proof that life has different seasons, it has transition periods. In order for people to ever grow or learn or become better versions of themselves, they have to change. They have to have transitions.

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The summer before my freshman year in high school, I went to a week-long camp. There were the customary bunk beds, the bad food, and the insane group games, but there was also a zip line. I remember being absolutely terrified, but I didn't really admit how scared I was. The kids who sucked it up and did it always came back so happy, and the kids who chickened out all walked around with a sheepish, downtrodden look on their face. I wanted to be one of the happy-looking people. So I climbed the ladder, and I put on the harness, and I sat on the edge, and my feet looked very small in comparison to the ground below them.

I jumped.

And I fell.

When you ride a zip line, there's a two second time period in which you are neither safely on the ledge or zipping through the air, you're just dropping. You're in transition from stability to going on an adventure, you're  waiting for the change. The pulley has not yet proved it's strength, the harness isn't yet tight around your waist.

You're falling.

Because when you're riding a zip line, or when you're living, you have to Fall in order for the change from sitting still to flying to happen. 

And right now, the whole town and I are falling, we are in Fall, we are waiting for the pulley to catch and the flight to start.

I don't want to write this.

But I hear that forcing yourself to do something that you know you need to do, even when you don't want to do it, is good for you. Like taking medicine, or jogging, or eating salad in winter.

My bratty, stubborn side thinks that's just a load of phooey, but I know my fellow blogger Matt Funk will probably kick my butt if I stop typing now.

So I won't.

My only excuses for not writing this is that I'm sleepy, it's cold, and I don't want to, because I don't have anything to say.

But everyone that knows me at all knows I always have something to say. Sometimes it's not verbal, I just express my thoughts with my scary right eyebrow, or a smirk, or my skeptical face, or my super intimidating grumpy face. Once in a while, I smile. I can also be fairly expressive with sighs, "psshhhh" 's, obnoxious scoffing sounds, and snorts.

And it's almost nice to have people that can translate my odd noises, or call me out on things, but it's also kind of a pain. Like a lot of things in life are.

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I used to always think that 19 year old's knew everything. From my blonde-pigtailed-jumper-clothed-little-kid self, I looked up at them in awe, sincerely believing that they had finally received the keys to the Lamborghini of life. They had it together, with a career all picked out, an identity settled upon, a confidence that never wavered, a height that was actually fitting for a 19 year old, a clear direction in which they were headed.

I'm starting to think now that there's a distinct possibility that the girl in the jumper was wrong.

But I also think that the girl I am today, the 19 year old, the one in the old jeans and oversized sweater, is okay with not knowing everything. Maybe I'm even okay with not knowing anything.

Because the more you don't know, the more you have to find out, the more excuses you have to go on crazy adventures or do stupid things or take risks or ask tons of questions to find things out.

And I would rather live my life trying to find things out than carry around a huge book of things I already know.

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 I think the biggest influence on my life philosophy, including everything I've already written about, is my mental image of God.

And I'm sure I just lost some of you, you're thinking "Dang it Jazmin, who do you think you are, a Southern Baptist preacher or something!?!?"

Even though that might be cool, I am not a Southern preacher.

The only reason I have for bringing this up is that I'm talking about myself, and without Him being who He is, I wouldn't be me, and so He has to come into the conversation eventually.

When I think of God, I think of a master artist and a master storyteller and a master shepherd, who is always out to make things whole and beautiful. He is poetic, He is faithful, He is gentle. But I also picture Him saying things like "Dude, I got this, just watch and see!"

And that enables me to know that for everything I trip over in life, everything I wonder about and worry about, everything that I find stressful or irritating, everything I don't understand and want to know about, God is right there with me in it, saying "Watch."  


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 So that's what I said when I thought I didn't have anything to say.

Psh, sucker.

This is one of my new favorite songs.

http://ournameisfun.bandcamp.com/track/the-gambler (listen there)

(and read here)

Slow down,
we've got time left to be lazy
All the kids have bloomed from babies into flowers in our eyes.
We've got 50 good years left to spend out in the garden
I don't care to beg your pardon,
We should live until we die.

We were barely 18 when we'd crossed collective hearts.
It was cold, but it got warm when you'd barely crossed my eye.
and then you turned, put out your hand,
and you asked me to dance.
I knew nothing of romance, but it was love at second sight.

I swear when I grow up, I won't just buy you a rose.
I will buy the flower shop, and you will never be lonely.
Even if the sun stops waking up over the fields
I will not leave, I will not leave 'til it's our time.
So just take my hand, you know that I will never leave your side.

It was the winter of '86, and all the fields had frozen over.
So we moved to Arizona to save our only son
and now he's turning to a man, although he thinks just like his mother,
he believes we're all just lovers he sees hope in everyone.

And even though she moved away,
we always get calls from our daughter.
She has eyes just like her father's
they are blue when skies are grey.
And just like him, she never stops,
Never takes the day for granted,
works for everything that's handed to her,
Never once complains.

You think that I nearly lost you
When the doctors tried to take you away.
But like the night you took my hand beside the fire
30 years ago to this day
You swore you'd be here 'til we decide that it's our time
Well it's not time, you've never quit in all your life.
So just take my hand, you know that I'll never leave your side.
You're the love of my life, you know that I'll never leave your side.

You come home from work and you kiss me on the eye
You curse the dogs and say that I should never feed them what is ours
So we move out to the garden, look at everything we've grown
and the kids are coming home
I'll set the table
You can make the fire.

 I'm a sucker for songs like this. Actually, come to think of it, there are a lot of things I'm a sucker for. Children. Good coffee. Cardigans. Miniature things. Notes. Indie films. Scones. Tupperware. Anything sentimental.

And straightforward-ness. I have a heart of stone when it comes to begging, pleading, sniveling, groveling, puppy eyes, whimpering, kneeling, bribing, and crying. But a well reasoned, logical, direct and to-the-point argument gets me every time. If you have a good reason for something I have a very, very hard time resisting you, even if I don't agree.

Just saying.

Hmmm, what else... I'm a sucker for compliments that don't have anything to do with Taylor Swift or being blonde. Math. Little black dresses (I think I have seven...). Tea cups. Sunsets. Light, reflections, and shadows. Beanies. People who make eye contact. Art. Crayons.

"This is just like something in a movie!"

Do you ever feel like your life is a low-budget, highly artistic, fascinatingly unpredictable indie film?

I do.

It felt like that one morning last week, when I was awake before the sun and wouldn't get to go to bed until long after the sun retired. Stupid, lazy sun.

I remember sitting there thinking, "What is this, who put me here in this life, and why do I feel like I have a camera watching me and Ben Folds is playing the keyboard for the soundtrack as I tie my shoes?"

Do you ever feel like that, like your life isn't something that you asked for? It's just something you were thrown into? Because a character in an indie film doesn't ask for it either. The writer never checked with her to see if she was okay with being gently but pointedly mocked, her facial expressions becoming more and more animated as her emotions develop and expand as the story develops and expands.

One of my favorite scenes in the film is the one where I'm sitting at the counter in the coffee shop and I'm holding a latté with perfect foam, and I'm looking out at the sunshine-drenched and people-filled street, and I'm hearing my favorite song, and you can tell I'm a regular because all the baristas and even some of the other customers know my name. And I have the look on my face that says "Yes, I am here, and this is the right place for me to be, and I know it."

Life feels like an indie film when I'm in my kitchen. I'm standing there barefoot, wondering about life and where it's taking me, and I'm wondering what kind of love story, job story, college story, life story, that I'll get to tell my kids. In the film, the editor would cut to a shot of the happy ending of the story I'm imagining - in that scene, I'm not baking for my dad, but for my kids. Or better yet, my kids are baking for their dad, and I get to tell the story of how we met. I get to tell them about my college experience, about the amazing life I was given. Then the director would have the scene go back to me, the barefoot one, wondering in the kitchen.

Some moments feel too perfect to not be part of a script. They're not always the moments with the plot twist, or a radical change in the tone of the narrative, but they're beautiful because they explain more about the character.

It's when the two close friends show up wearing the same sweater and find out that their parents have the same wedding anniversary. It's when she runs into an old friend. It's when they play basketball and he doesn't let her win because he knows she hates that. It's when the perfect shoes are purchased. When he finally cries, when she offers a hug because she can tell that everything isn't fine. When she walks into a door because good Lord, he is distracting. The moment the letter is written, when eye contact is made, when a song starts, when the letter is received.

And maybe life actually is a film, because really, what is a film other than a story that people watch? Maybe the only difference is that real life doesn't end with credits rolling on a black screen.  


(Maybe it's just because I finally got my spot in the library back, or because I'm paying too much attention in Film or English class, or because my hair is up ballerina-style, but this is what I needed to write today. Sorry that it's a little disjointed and emotional and maybe a tad pretentious.)

What I couldn't post on Kaitlyn's wall about a feminist book from the 1980's

(This was originally a post on my friend Kaitlyn's wall on Facebook, but Facebook took one gander at it and said "PSH, we don't allow rants that long!" and I was too lazy to edit it down, so I'm posting it here. It references a book from the 1980's that is, in my and Kaitlyn's opinion, absurd. It's called The Cinderella Complex, and it's by Collette Downing. If you've read it, or have something to say after you read about it here, let me know.) 

So.... I didn't want the book back.... like..... really.... because it just sits there staring at me, like it's daring me to read it, but I can't, (a. because I literally don't have time, (b. because even if I DID have time, reading it would just make me angry, and I don't have extra energy to be angry.
But it still stares, it looks, it addresses my soul directly with it's thin browning pages, and it says "Excuses."
Because it would like to persuade me that by my act of putting it down before I finished it - it won. It's trying to build up the argument that not finishing the book makes me narrow minded and unwilling to hear other opinions or change my mind.
I don't want it to win, but I can't sit there and fill my mind with what she says, because she is like poison to intelligent thought. She is like cardiac arrest or a hangman's noose to my mind, and yet she has me at an impasse.
I'm at an impasse with a BOOK from the 1980's, and I just wrote almost two hundred words about it.

About that whole LOSING MY MIND conversation....

I'm grumpy about going to school so that I can get my masters so I can go to school for the rest of my life. As a teacher, but still. School. Forever. And I'm actually excited about it.

Oh hi, irony, good to see you.

I'm sitting (hiding) in my favorite spot in the library because I'm rad like that, and I have two and a half hours between classes. There's a perfect little couch facing a huge window that gets sun in the morning in this little alcove that's quiet but not too quiet, and always has great art on one wall. The only problem is that, on the other wall, the one behind me and hanging directly above me, there's a painting of a naked woman. I'm not looking at it so it doesn't bother me, but I'm sure it's slightly disconcerting for anyone walking by. I think it's funny though, so you won't find me in another spot.

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I've already argued with a professor, which was a great tip off (not kick off, because I would rather use basketball phrases than football ones)  to this term.

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While I've been sitting here, trying to think of clever things to say about school that everyone else hasn't already said, clouds have moved in and blocked out the sun.

If I believed that everything was a sign, I would assume that the clouds mean that change is coming in my life, and the best way to handle it will be to sit and watch and enjoy it. Eventually, though, I'll have to walk out and actually experience the change, I can't just sit and watch it forever. It may alter the way I live my life, but I'll still be fundamentally the same person. The change will effect the people around me, as well - in different ways. Some will enjoy it more than others.

Dang, maybe I should believe everything is a sign. I'd rather think that than just go walk in the rain.

A single 18 year old's thoughts on marriage. Yes, you can laugh.

Many of you have probably heard my über rational and practical plan to marry my mechanic.

Writing this feels somewhat awkward because I’m currently sitting in the office of his shop, and he’s standing about three feet away.

But I digress.

The plan exists (a. because my car is a piece of crap, and it would really save me insane amounts of money to be married to someone who would HAVE to fix it for free, and (b. because it feels safer to have an option that I can control. I mean, all I would have to do is bring in a batch of my cinnamon rolls and say “HEY, so I make these, and also killer peanut butter brownies, and you already know my name and have spent almost as much time in my car as I have, so let’s just get hitched.” and he would say, after trying the cinnamon rolls, “Yeah, alright.”  And we would just go on like that, him fixing cars and me teaching and him fixing my car (for free) and me driving it.

Now, all of you romantics out there are probably starting to hate me right about now. You’re probably disgusted that I say getting married simply because it’s practical is a viable option. You’re probably starting to think that I don’t believe in marriage or love or soul mates.

The thing is, I DO, I just don’t believe it’s a given. I don’t believe it’s one of those things you can simply EXPECT to happen.

Because if you’re not planning on marrying someone for completely sensible reasons, you’re probably planning on falling in love with someone, which assumes that someone will fall in love with you.

And it just seems a little narcissistic to me to saunter around thinking “Uh huh, so someday someone is going to fall so in love with me that they’re going to want to spend the rest of their life with me, and make me the most important person in their life. Oh, and also buy me roses.”

I’m sick of the world taking marriage and love for granted.

So I don’t anymore. I just trust that either love will happen, like magic, or that my mechanic will really like cinnamon rolls.

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Actually, there’s a plan C, too. That’s the one where I don’t ever get married, I just teach for a while and save money so that I can adopt a little boy from Africa, and he will be 6‘9” and play basketball for Rajon Rondo when he is coaching the Chicago Bulls.