Happy

Well, we had a joy-filled Christmas and now we're having a nice quiet Boxing Day. Of course, what's really cool is that we're going to the farm for dinner!

I was going to post a picture of my new Wa minority costume but Daddy hasn't uploaded it yet, grrr...

Oh, well. Have a nice Boxing Day, okay?

BETA!

Except, you know, it's not Beta anymore. I just switched and I love it. It's great. And it's not too different, either.

I love to hear from you guys, but right now my commenting service, Haloscan, doesn't have official support for this. It says that it's coming, so I'm going to wait for a little bit. Thus, I've disabled commenting on my blog for right now. If you know me, you can send me an email. If not, I apologize for the inconvenience.

In the meantime, check out my cool new blog-works!

Have you ever mixed up Debbie Reynolds and Natalie Portman?

Okay, maybe not. But I have. And I'm not a big movie-person, at least not 'til we came here, so please pardon me, fans.

It happened like this. We were watching Singin' in the Rain and had stopped the movie after the studio dance sequence during which we decided we didn't like Gene Kelly's voice. Okay, Becky and I did. Oh, well. But as we stopped, we got to talking about the actors and actresses or something. The reason we'd stopped is that we were going to have popcorn. Anyhow, the conversation gets on Debbie Reynolds, and Daddy says, "Princess Leia's mom."

Okay. Now, I knew there were prequels out there where you meet Leia's mother, but I thought they'd come out rather recently, myself. So I said, "Wouldn't she be kind of old?"

"Not really."

"But, I mean, when did the Star Wars movies come out?"

"Oh, seventies, eighties--the prequels are more recent."

"So, wouldn't she be old?"

"What do you mean?"

"How old is Luke and Leia's mom in the movies?"

At this point, he finally gets it. "Oh--no. Debbie Reynolds is Carrie Fisher's mom."

So, not knowing much about Star Wars other than the first movie (A New Hope) at the time, I unwittingly mixed up Natalie Portman (who plays Leia's mom) and Debbie Reynolds (who is Carrie Fisher's mom). What next? Elaine Taylor and Julie Andrews?

A lot of company

I haven't written for awhile, but my grandma and my aunt are here so I want to spend time with them and/or make Micha's present, so I have no time to write. Sorry!

In the meantime, you can read the archived posts. Or check out something else.

Oops, more to say

Last night I fell asleep before I could hear "Dark the Night" by the
Crossing. You have not heard beautiful if you've not heard this. If
only my neighbors could play THAT, too. I just wish they'd play the
Russian song again. I have always associated it with a dance I did to
it at home one time, but suddenly this year I found myself listening to
the words and the music and the song just brought tears to my eyes, it
is so beautiful. I love to listen to it in the dead of night (we play
music to sleep by) when the space heater's off and I'm awake all alone
in a cozy bed and my thoughts wander.

Music changes associations with times. I don't think I'll remember
China per se with some of these Christmas-y selections, but I know I've
found secret places to visit with the accompanying music. I can picture
them without the music, but when I actually hear the music I am
practically transported there. For five seconds I can feel snow
crunching under my feet and see a quiet but beautiful and almost happy
graveyard from a Christmas movie (only it wasn't happy or peaceful in
the movie) while a bell sequence is going, and for three minutes I can
be in some nameless country in the dead of night, the sky clouded over,
except for a small cloud break out of which shines a star. Against the
sky is a steely tower with a flag waving in the wind, and a camel is
being prepared with finest metals, incense, and resins.

Or, for a few minutes my association ties still run deep, as I am
untangling lights and garlands and such in Grandma's living room. Ahhh,
much as I like it here, I know that once I can do that again my cup
will be brimful.

But it brims full here, in different ways. The joy of standing on a
high plateau among mountains with a tiny landing strip and a small
building with two waiting halls, standing in one, nose pressed against
the glass, watching the flow of heads for the two lao wai looking
utterly tired and lost but happy to be here at last. Or, if, this year,
I can't have that joy, I will have the joy of hearing my family's voice
in the hall, and see the sun-drenched, browning hills receive a new
regard in my eyes as I show them the wonders of my home.

Christmas is a time of joy, and a time of peace, and a time of love.
Every year it seems more wonderful (except, of course, occasionally a
"fallout" year).

Movie music?

Well, THAT was strange. I overheard a very familiar song from our
upstairs neighbors. But it wasn't QUITE familiar, you know, the way it
is when you hear a song you know from one artist with another artist.
Actually, that's what it was, I think. Balkanarama does some movie
tunes, and I think this was one of them. Either that, or it is a
cross-over from my mom's old Tetris games--Tetris being a Russian
computer game that played Russian music in the background. But I
distinctly can hear, now in my head, Eva Moon singing to that tune,
which she most likely would, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I have
neither knowledge of neighbors or language to ask if that was a CD or
if they are watching Russian (I'm assuming) movies. And they'd probably
think I was very strange, anyway.

Yesterday I wrote Haiku and discovered that it is a wonderful way to
veil your thoughts if you aren't bound by more than the five-seven-five
thing. No offense to the Japanese, but I think I'll probably take their
art and write on whatever subjects are at hand.

BLACK AND RED
Black and red color
Wild melody is calling
Wild rhythm cries, "Dance!"

Anyway, getting back to movie music, I am no fan of such unless it's a
VERY memorable score to a VERY memorable moment, or, in this case, if
it's done by some cool Balkan band and I dance to it. Enough said.

Original...or BETA?

Hemming and hawing here. The new Blogger BETA sounds cool. I really would like to try it out. But you can't revert to the original blogger, and I don't want to take such a risk.

The only solution (besides forgetting my curiousity, of course!) is to create a new blog just to test it out.

Of course, that's just a waste of server space.

On a lighter note, Saturday was my birthday! I am now fourteen and still the center of the universe ;). When my dad uploads pictures from last night's party, I'll post 'em here.

Here we are with some poetry

Winter Calling
Winter calls with varied breath
With a chill or with the sun.
With rain, or snow, or gentle dew
Or nothing wet at all
With drying hills
Or snowy fields
Or rain tossing through the evergreens
With browning leaves,
Or no leaves at all.
With chilly winds or warmer days
And nights seem always cold.
Winter calls with varied breath--
Dry, wet, snow.

Deep in Branches
I used to smell Christmas branches
And to do it, you have to bury your nose in the branches
(Being careful of the tinsel, of course).
And the eyes come along, too.

So when the branches don't smell I've learned to look
Deep in branches and past
All the glitter
And, sometimes there is where I'll find
The most radiant star.

Candles
One candle flickers
In the paling winter light
Bringing a promise of coming.

Two candles flicker
In the last fading light
Bringing a promise of love.

Three candles flicker
In the darkening gloom
Bringing a promise of joy.

Four candles flicker
In the deepening night
Bringing a promise of hope.

Five candles flicker
In the earliest morn
Bringing the coming of peace.

Thank you for reading.

@*%@$%#!!!

Actually, I don't know any swear words.

Balkanarama is playing at my favorite Balkanarama-venue this Saturday. And before you say: "What's so special about that?", may I remind you that I turn fourteen this Saturday?

Oh, well. What I suspected might happen did. Micha's birthday's on the eleventh, so we're having a joint birthday party. That'll be fun, I hope.

I hope Sherry comes on the hike on Saturday...:)

Matty Noble, Balkanarama's violinist, has been touring in Europe for ages, now. Will he ever come back? :( He adds so much to the music--he's a virtuoso at the violin. What I'd give to play that good!

Ciao for niao...

Since when is crying...theraputic?

I think it's stupid not to cry (quietly, reasonably, in private, I mean). I mean, I was learning in science class that it's good for you. Of course after a good cry you're a miserable, snivelling hulk, but you feel strangely better.

But this is awfully strange. Last night I was feeling perfectly happy here, listening to Christmas music, and feeling like I could spend this Christmas perfectly happy here. I mean, part of what gets me through is knowing that it's temporary. I think maybe I could live longer than two years here or some other place, but I'd need to set it to two years, just think, it's only two years...hey, I could go for another one, but Christmas would always be hard. I'm wearing myself out coming up with new traditions and modifications of old ones, but that's what I like to do...why shouldn't I??? I'll get to rest come Christmas Day, and then I can see my success. Just like last year. It's the best way for me to spend Christmas.

Of course, now I know things. Don't play music of especial sentimental value until nightfall (when it actually looks like winter), don't get too hung up on stuff like that until then, and, finally, don't expect too much. I don't. I expect that once Grandma and Auntie get here and it draws closer to Christmas, things'll get very Christmas-y like they did last year. And, this time, I know I'll be happy even as they leave because I'm going to throw myself into everyday life that will be so restful.

Don't misunderstand. I'm really happy here even now and I also know what really matters in Christmas. But if there were no traditions, I would seriously celebrate Christmas sometime else...like in summer when it rains or something. Even in America, if everything traditional went out the window, well, Christmas in spring or something.

But why was I crying last night? I was happy. Everything was peaceful. My "depression" only sinks in when I try too hard at the wrong time of day or at night if I can't force myself to think of other things. In a little bit, the music shall become second nature again. After pretending to dance with the people in the song from Ghana (or Tanzania, I wish I had the liner notes with me!!!) or watching the snow, birds, and bells in that little interlude on the Fred Waring, I'll have to think of other things. But at night, awake, and not trying to sleep, or think, only to live and reading or something...I reread the Westing Game and it made me cry. And I was listening to Celtic music so beautiful you could burst. Heightened emotions here, I think.

But I love it when I have heightened emotions and I don't feel the need to express them, or I do in excessive writing, and no one stops me. It's a beautiful feeling.

Still, the Westing Game making anybody cry? I understand Return of the Jedi, but...the Westing Game...?

Shhh!

Please, nobody tell my dad about the baby water buffalo I got him for Christmas! He can't know. It's to be the best surprise ever!

Just a Picture

No, I won't tell you what exactly is going on.

Last Month of the Year

And, for some of us--some of my extended family will know exactly what I'm talking about--it is the last day of the old year (not the calendar year). In Kunming we bought purple and pink candles and with some yarn and crochet hooks from a wonderful care package, I crocheted a circle of "greenery" (after a granny square, it was a cinch!). Tomorrow I shall set them up. Ah, my favorite time of year. And in a week...well, check the age on my profile in a week :)!!!

There's a really fun song on Atwater-Donnelly's latest CD (which we took with us completely, yay!!!) with the same title as my blog post. It is a really fun song. However, I have a runaway imagination, and so "Last Month of the Year" popped into my head as somehow being a very quiet, minor-key tune. Don't get me wrong--I love the real version. But nothing prevented me from writing some different words to this other tune I knew...

But actually, I decided I was going to stretch my storytelling skills a bit and tell a Native American legend about Mt. Rainier.

The Legend of Mt. Rainier

Long, long ago, when the world was young, and as yet there were no people, the mountains were giants. Now, Tahoma was a beautiful woman, married to the mountain in the west, and she lived with him in the west--and in that time, the animals and plants we use today for our needs were not in this place. They were in the west.

Now, one day, Tahoma's husband took a second wife, and she became jealous, because he became enamoured with his new wife and payed little attention to her. So one day she told him she would leave. And he said, "Fine. Go ahead."

Tahoma was shocked. She had thought this would make him realize what she was worth. But instead he cared not about her.

So she took a basket and gathered a bit of everything--all the plants and the animals that grew and lived there, and put them in. Then she hoisted her son up on her hip and set off. And every so often, she would turn and look back, hoping to see her husband coming after her to call her back.

But she saw nothing.

Eventually, she got to where she is now. She settled herself down, and began to scatter the contents of her basket around her--the plants and animals, and everything. They took root and grew, and are still there to this day. Then Tahoma picked up her little son and lifted him up so he could see where they had come from. And so they remain to this day.
-=0=- -=0=- -=0=-
Now, that's probably a mish-mosh from several sources inadvertantly made my own. Sorry. I just like the legend a lot. And, I don't pretend to tell it in any style but my own. Find a book if you want a more correct version.

And, happy new year.