Bovinova, and assorted goings-on

I'm taking banjo lessons now. Clawhammer style. Like the Carolina Chocolate Drops. And David Holt. Yay.

My dad's spent three out of the past four weeks in the hospital. He's had four brain surgeries, two of which involved removing part of his skull.

In April, I went to the Azalea Ball, and danced the Carolina Promenade with a bunch of impeccably-dressed and -mannered homeschooled teenagers.

I also joined a church. Kaleidoscope multi-ethnic fellowship. It's weird, feels kind of like a marriage or something.  After decades of restlessness in Spartanburg, this free spirit finally tied the knot with a single body of believers. But my heart was with these people, and God is among them and in them, and everything just...clicked. Plus the food is AMAZING. :-)

In May, I finished another semester of grad school. It's getting harder and harder to keep going, so much LIFE to live in my non-working hours, plus it's tough to stare at a computer screen all day only to come home and stare at yet another computer screen for another few hours.

I also went to Bovinova. It was AWESOME. There was lots of meat, music and hooping and Tim TV. I might possibly be Tim TV's biggest fan ever. I picked up one of his blue dreadlocks that got separated from his head, possibly by a flaming jumprope, one of three hoops he had spinning at once, or a glass scrap after he laid in a bed of glass while a whole circus troupe balanced on his belly. I'm going to put it in a locket or something. I also got "adopted" by the video crew, made new friends, learned to spin poi, and ate emu, mussel, whole-roasted cow, paella, rum cake and other delicacies. Oh and did I mention Tim TV was there?

Tim TV getting cozy on a bed of glass.
He did this whole routine while singing a Tom Waits song. #starstruck

Oh and I bought a knife at Bovinova that I took with me to the hospital. There in the ICU I fashioned a pillow for my father out of a swimming noodle. That made him very happy.

A Fridayful of friends, music, and sake

Friday night was one of those serendipitous evenings that just make you happy to be alive. It didn't start out so good. I had been practicing for a month to get ready for my second open mic night at the Coffee Bar. Last time the Ballad of the Polka Dot Lizard seemed to go over really well. The entire coffee shop went silent for the duration of my song. But, last time I had all these friends complain because they didn't know about it, so I just decided to cover all the bases this time and make a facebook event. I invited like, a hundred people. I was going to bust out the toy piano and do the Ballad of Katy Bee.

Well, I get there at 6:30 and can't find a parking space close to the Coffee Bar so I lug my guitar and toy piano from a block away. When I get inside there is no "stage area" at the front, just tables. I knew something was wrong, and sure enough, it was cancelled. Why? Because they share a PA system with the Hub City Bookshop and that night the bookshop was having a reading. "Lady Parts."

Spectacle

I decided something this week. As you know I like to dance. A lot. I don't do it so people can watch me, I don't do it to get attention. That's not to say I don't like attention. Of course it's nice when people appreciate your moves, or at least your guts. But seriously, I would be just as happy dancing in a corner, or in the dark where nobody can see me. In fact I often do just that. It's about the music, and being in it, really in it. But sometimes there's no music. Sometimes it's about how I'm feeling, and sometimes, it's about God.

dancing in a play age 12

I have about three very clear memories of dancing in public as a child. It always followed the same pattern - I just started moving to the music, I couldn't help it, my feet were going crazy, then people started to turn and pay attention, then they were pulling me up onto the stage, or out into the front, and people were snapping pictures or videos and smiling and asking me if I took lessons, or was "a professional." No, I'm not a professional, I'm just a kid who likes to dance. Why are you all looking at me? 

Misery and Compassion

I saw Les Miserables today. I knew very little of the novel or the musical, so I approached the music, story, and cinematography with fresh eyes and an open mind.

Photo from L.A. Times

It's one of those stories that changes you. I suppose you could name several different themes for it - the devastation of poverty, revolution and the power of freedom, the folly of justice without mercy. But for me, it resonated with a single message: compassion. That single act of forgiveness and love - a priest, robbed after showing kindness to a forlorn stranger, not only forgiving the deed but covering it up and giving more than was taken from him - changed not only a life, but a whole city.

In gratitude and confusion, the story's protagonist, Jean Valjean, (portrayed movingly by Hugh Jackman) pours out the hatred and resentment he's harbored for 20 years in prison, and allows himself to be filled instead by mercy. He grows into a compassionate businessman, leader, father and hero, and changes lives wherever he goes.

A feline friend

Lily, my first cat.

I haven't told you about my cat yet, have I? About two months ago, I decided I wanted  a new cat. I was  unhappy and lonely and I remembered how much joy and comfort my first cat Lily brought. Lily was a beautiful, blue-eyed Siamese mix I took home from the animal shelter the year we moved here. She lived with us for 12 happy years and then one day simply disappeared. I thought she'd come back since she disappeared once before, so I wasn't really worried for the first month or so, then I began to be concerned and started searching for her, but there was no trace. Eventually I just assumed her dead. Cats go off to die sometimes. It's been over a year now and a catless home is...well, sad.

At first my mother did not want another cat in the home...

Bed of Roses

At Glendale Shoals making new memories

A few years back, as I was thanking God for the rich, beautiful, blessed life He'd given me, I felt...almost guilty. I had known little real suffering (or so I thought) while others suffered so much all around me. I prayed that when God saw fit to change the tide of my life and bring me real pain, He'd also strengthen me to be able to face it. I prayed in the face of inevitable sadness He'd cause me to remember His joy.

Maybe my problems are still small in the scheme of things, maybe people all around me are still suffering so much more. But in the last 3 weeks of my life I've been unhappier than I can ever remember being. The beginning of September was so bittersweet but full of promise - seeing my love off to his new life, and embracing the 9 to 5 life of working adulthood. I knew it was going to be hard. I was right.

The Van Dangs at Cribb's Kitchen

Two Saturdays ago I snuck into my office. My laptop had lost internet, I had taken it to the shop, and I was supposed to have something to show Robin (the CSA farmer for whom I am building a website in exchange for vegetables) the following week. I hadn't been sleeping much and my boss had just offered me a full-time salaried position at Converse - I told her I needed to think about it. Even though I had applied for the job as soon as I graduated Converse and wanted it ever since...once I started doing the work part time I was like "Holy mackerel! This is hard! They need at least a 3-person team to do they everything they are expecting out of a person and a half!"

But I digress. It was Saturday, I was supposed to be researching salaries and finding out how to haggle for my first full-time position, (and I had done some of that on my parent's flaky, virus-ridden internet) but I also was feeling backed into a corner, like I had to get this website finished this weekend OR ELSE. So I was mooching internet and air conditioning from Converse bright and early in the morning, working and praying and generally driving myself crazy, until about 1:30pm when I thought to myself, I HAVE HAD IT. I need to rest or something is going to break. The Sabbath officially begins NOW.

The Barbeque. Courtesy of Cribb's Kitchen via Facebook