02.02.10
Remembering Tears
I recently deleted an email account I kept for the better part of a decade. After dozens of pages of largely useless messages nestled a group of emails. They were from a guy I fell flat for when I was nineteen. I hardly paid them visit, but they were there, like abandoned notes in a memory box.
I knew I would exhaust myself picking through every email to save ones with sentimental value. Even the first correspondence with my best friend was saved in there. So, I skipped right to the messages from late 2005 and early 2006 to awaken some memories before retiring the whole lot.
Late 2005 and early 2006 was the window in question because I had made a lot of lasting friendships, including that special one. Not that it turned out lasting.
He had a rare sense of humor – it was dry and sharp. He was sincere and used bold, simple language to express heartfelt thoughts. We would email during the day while he was workless at work. We’d write clever things, thought provoking things, mundane things.
I loved hearing from him, and he told me he loved hearing from me. I thought he was amazing… his hair was dark, his smile was cunning, and his quietness in public was fascinating. He played acoustic guitar with his eyes closed; his face was serene and his thoughts were selfless.
One day, I could stifle my feelings no longer. I wrote him a neutral-toned email and added, essentially as a post script, “I’m distracted by you. Any thoughts?”
He got the message. He told me to call him the next night to talk it over with me.
He turned me down – gracefully and with good reason. However that didn’t sting at all compared to the way he ignored me after that.
I had to brace myself through days and weeks of seeing him. A casual friend of mine went after him, even though she knew I still liked him. It almost made me dizzy to watch her giggle while she used a back massager on him. And he let her.
I was so fed up one night. We were all on a snowboarding trip, staying at a hilltop hotel in a beautiful town. I went outside to an glass-enclosed gazebo on the grounds. It overlooked the twinkling lights of a peaceful town in the dark of night. I cried hard. I called out for humility and for a way to get over him.
He moved a couple of months later, none the wiser to my woes.
01.19.10
A few Summer days in January
Book: Summer
Author: Edith Wharton
Particulars: Published in McClure’s magazine and then as a book by D. Appleton and Company in 1917. Two hundred pages.
I thought I had 
her figured out, but she kept me on my toes after all.
This is the third Wharton book I’ve read, after Ethan Frome and The House of Mirth. When I hit the midpoint of Summer, I thought I’d figured out some commonalities among her books. It turned out that I was only half right.
I decided that her characters beckon a reader to become attached. I struggle to try to understand them, and I am concerned for their well-being. At first I thought that I was attached to Mirth’s Lily and Summer’s Charity because they were women, but I remember being just as attached to Ethan.
So far, that could be right. It’s only a subjective opinion.
I then decided that Wharton isn’t shy about tragedy. I threw up my hands and accused her of writing love stories that were never to last long or end happy.
This decision came when I did one of those half-accidental, apprehensive, glutton-for-punishment flips to the back of the book. Whenever I do this, its under the pretense of seeing how many pages there are or something else as silly but justifiable. Once I’ve turned the bulk of the pages my eyes slip up, skim and zero in on the book’s conclusion in a quick, seamless sweep.
Anyway, I turned to the back and saw some glaring evidence that Summer chronicles the life, and more importantly death, of a love story. Thus we return to the moment I threw up my hands in exasperation.
It ended happier than I expected, however. Wharton has the last smile.
The reason the fate of the main character and of the love story become so important to me when I read Wharton is because she can translate the emotion of human experience into words. I think she is a master of doing this in an exploratory way. Some authors stay on the periphery and tell you what’s happening on the outside, which lets each reader explore inside the character and come out with their individual conclusions. Wharton brings you in and positions you to see out of the character’s eyes and process what the character feels, even as they do the same.
So, I will not doubt the lady with the pen again.
01.08.10
Back Again in Two-Ten
Hey everybody. Yes, I’m still here. Here to announce my new blog series: The 2010 Book Bonanza.
One of my resolutions for the year is to read good books. I’m going to announce what books I’ve read here and tell what I think about them. Please consider the “spoiler alert” warning, because though I won’t be writing full synopses, my references might give storylines away.
I have read the amazing Edith Wharton’s book Summer – I finished it this morning. Stay tuned for a forthcoming post dedicated to this beautiful novel.
07.19.09
Cat Got My Tongue
It’s about time I publicly announce that I’ve been in a major uninspired lull with Basie’s Boots. I apologize. Hopefully I come back soon with some good stuff!
I leave you with a picture of the coolest-looking hotel, the Hotel del Coronado on Coronado island off San Diego. I was recently there to see this building, established in the late 1880s!
Hotel del Coronado
06.26.09
Belated Memorial Day
It is unlike me to not recognize Memorial Day in some public forum, but I didn’t this year because I couldn’t find how I wanted to do it. Well, I came across this video today. You can’t beat Norah Jones and PBS.
06.04.09
Bands who Twitter, bands who Tube
I find some bands’ additions to the social media world extremely amusing at times. I want to share some.
Twitter
matkearney coldplays drummer was at the radio city show… i said “hey richard” he said “my names will”. i said “exactly”
BoyceAvenue I don’t know how or why but every once in a while I get a Little Mermaid song stuck in my head. Sebastian, what a crustacean sensation.
BoyceAvenue All kids love sandboxes. All sandboxes smell like cat pee. Therefore, all kids smell like cat pee?
BoyceAvenue Crazy that some sponges are alive, right? The modern-day sponge I hope is modeled after the sea sponge, the most absorbent of all sponges.
BoyceAvenue Ever accidentally sit on toilet with both seats/lids up? It’s the worst. Not sure why, but just feels so cold & foreign … & yuckie!
Youtube
Another Starfield video that makes me laugh.
A Stellar Kart video that makes me laugh.
20th Anniversary of an Uprising for Democracy
Brave. There is a National Public Radio follow-up story on the students who revolted against China’s government.
Tiananmen Square, China. Note: The identity of the man, nicknamed "Tank Man," has remained unknown.
The question:
“So, 20 years later, what happened to that bold yearning for democracy? Why is China still frozen politically — the regime controls the press more tightly today than it did for much of the 1980s — even as China has transformed economically? Why are there so few protests today?”
Read NYT columnist Nicholas Kristof’s answer at the bottom of his opinion editorial on Tiananmen.
06.02.09
In the Mood to Jump, Jive and Wail
Tiffiny Wine, 23 Skidoo, Denver
I realized that I haven’t shown any evidence of my blog’s namesake or proof of it’s description – as authored by a swing lover.
Here are some of my favorite videos of swing dancing. I watch them in awe of the dancers’ mastery and style.
Skye and Frida Skye and Frida 2 Kevin and Sarah
Dan and Tiffiny Kevin and Emily
05.29.09
They make marriage look great
There are three movies that depict marriage in a way I particularly admire. I think it’s worth mention because marriage can be sad and tragic, but movies like these provide an idealistic to be aware of and an inspiration to hope for.
I’ll talk about those in a minute, but first I want to talk about a real marriage. Specifically, the moment it began fourteen days ago.
I attended my friend Brian and his wife Aimee’s wedding on May 15. It was a lovely ceremony and a lively reception, and I was so happy to be there. It had an effect on me.
I pretty much think of Brian as my “adopted” older brother. I value the friendship he’s given me over the last few years, and I hope to remain friends with he and Aimee for a long time.
I didn’t drink at the wedding, and I didn’t have a date. After I got back to my hotel and was sitting there alone, I started crying. It wasn’t because I was alone and single, woe is me. It was because I felt loss.
It took me a couple days to realize that I care enough about Brian that his getting married sort of felt like losing him. Now, there is no need to overreact here. I realize that it was emotional for most other people there; namely, people who are blood related to Brian and have known him much longer than I have.
But I knew this was coming, and that’s why I consider it an important revelation. What I know now is that it’s just one of those things. Marriage is a huge symbol and commitment and life change, for the couple and those who love them.
My best girl friend is getting married this year as well, and now I’m ready for it.
And now for some fictional stories of marital bliss:
(although the second one is supposedly true)
- Premonition. As a psychological thriller it’s certainly unconventional for depicting a good marriage, but I really like it. The couple is on the brink of turning away from one another when the wife, and then the husband, become resolved to save the relationship.
- Cinderella Man. A story about a boxer who gives his all to his family, and whose wife would follow him to the end of the earth even in the most trying dilemma.
- P.S., I Love You. Another unconventional portrayal of marriage since the couple isn’t together for most of the movie. I like this one because it shows how marriage is a rocky trail, but that you come out better, stronger and full of love in the end.
Childhood Reading
My parents are having a garage sale, and it was my job to go through boxes of junk from my younger years. I am sort of a pack rat, but I do enjoy blatant opportunities to toss things I’m tired of looking at or saving for a rainy day. I went through and gathered what I didn’t want that might fetch a price.
My parents had saved a big box, too heavy for my dad to pick up alone, full of children’s books. My mom wanted to keep most of them “for grandkids,” but I thought the number was a bit excessive. I pared down by getting rid of ones I didn’t have a distinct memory of or ones that looked creepy. (There was one with a sad little bunny crying; that’s just depressing).
It turns out that I remember a lot of books from a long time ago. I laughed in delight over some. I found it interesting how vividly memorable the illustrations and even the colors were.
Most of the books were for very small children, but there were some longer ones in there. Ah, the graduation to chapter books. I remember series like Animorphs, The Baby-sitters Club, Goosebumps, The Boxcar Children. I liked Nancy Drew, too. Besides adventure books like Hatchet and Far North that were about boys, I loved the brave heroines in Island of the Blue Dolphins and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle.
“When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.”Meg Ryan, You’ve Got Mail
