Some Favorite Lyrics

Wild Squall- Sea Dogges
Well the moon is softly rising
but the storm heads are a'growin.
Though the sails hang loose and free,
soon they'll dance to winds a'blowin.

Heave away, laddies away.
And we'll haul away together.
As the wind catches the sails,
and we roll from lee to weather.

Heave away, laddies away.

Now the crew is coming topside,
and they're hauling on the braces
as the first drops from above
fall gently on their faces.

Heave away, laddies away.
And we'll haul away together.
As the wind catches the sails,
and we roll from lee to weather.
Heave away, laddies away.

Well the night is black as pitch now
as the waves crash over the railins'
But the spray that blinds my eyes
will not keep this ship from sailin'

Heave away, laddies away.
And we'll haul away together.
As the wind catches the sails,
and we roll from lee to weather.
Heave away, laddies away.

Now the mate is shouting orders
midst the howlin of the weather
but a lonely shanty rises,
crying out, "Lets haul together!"

Heave away, laddies away.
And we'll haul away together.
As the wind catches the sails,
and we roll from lee to weather.
Heave away, laddies away.
And we'll haul away together.
As the wind catches the sails,
and we roll from lee to weather.
Heave away, laddies away.
Heave away, laddies, away.
Heave away, laddies, away.


Cloak of Feathers: The Ledgend of Blodeuwedd- Damh the Bard
Owl at my window,
Calling from the tree,
I hear our voice in the cool moonlight,

Do you sing those words for me?

To me they sound so empty,
Why do you sound so sad?
As you tell me of the things you've seen,
And the home that you once had.

(Chorus 1)
Beyond the mist of myth and legend
In a place not far from here,
Beneath the stones on the hill,
I want to see you land,
And I wonder if I'll ever, understand.

The owl she told me,
Of her home within the hill.
Of the wonder, and the magic land,
That lies within there still.
But a curse it follows lifetimes,
And it took away her skin,
For the words of a wicked man,
Made birds of her kin.

Owl of the nighttime,
Owl of the sky.
Spread now your ghost-white wings,
And on your back I'll fly.
Over the forest,
To the Hollow Hill of Stones,
Land there within the ring,
And call for your home.

(Chorus 2)
Beyond the mist of myth and legend
In a place not far from here,
Beneath the stones on the hill,
I want to see you home,
Give me a Cloak of Feathers so I'll never be alone.

And the mists they part as through we fly,
In my Cloak of Feathers,
The owl and I.
Birds fill the trees in this wonderland,
And an ancient curse is broken,
By the love of a mortal man.

Lady spin your circle bright,
weave your web of dark and light.
Earth, air, fire and water
bind us now as one.
(Repeat 2x)

Teachers & Music

Ms. Self said that old Journey songs remind her of her childhood, and Mrs. Hopke said Barry Manilow. Personally, every time I hear a Bob Marley song I remember my childhood and dancing with my mom. Ms. Self really likes positive music, and her favorite song is Roll With the Changes by REO Speedwagon. Mr. Snyder said Bon Jovi, and scoffed when we asked why. My favorite, at the current moment, is probably Omnia or Enya. The song Raindance Maggie by the Red Hot Chili Peppers is a song that reminds Mrs. Hopke of someone she loves. She sais it reminds her of her daughter, Maggie, for obvious reasons. The song Three Little Birds by Bob Marley reminds me of someone I love. It was the song my mother always used to sing to me, and at her wedding reception, she dedicated it to me. Every time I hear it I think of her and her nickname for me, "Bird." Mrs. Hopke said that she's been to many concerts, both as a teenager and as an adult with her daughters. One concert she remembers well was a Matchbox 20 concert she went to with her daughter. They got to meet the members, which she said was exciting, and her daughter got sick, which was not so exciting. Ms. Self said that she loved going to Ozzy Osbourne concerts because they had "slick pyrotechnics." Coming from Ms. Self, I found this very surprising! Personally, I don't go to many concerts except for small ones with local bands. Mostly, they're just playing for other events. But one concert I remember very well was the Flobots concert I went to in 7th grade. It was my dream to be able to see them live, and I found out they were playing in St. Louis during the same week I'd be there visiting my grandparents. Mission accomplished! I got to go to Pointfest and see them, as well as many other awesome bands. Mr. Snyder said he usually listens to 96.5 on the radio, and sings along if he knows the song. He said when he was growing up, Hank Williams Jr. was considered offensive. I don't really listen to the radio, but when I do, it's either 102.1 or 91.1. NPR all the way. I don't follow modern music enough to know if anything is widely considered offensive, but personally, I find most popular modern music to be an affront to the name of music. Mr. Snyder said he refuses to listen to Marilyn Manson, and simply made a disgusted noise when asked why.

Music

Over the years, my taste in music has changed dramatically in some respects, and stayed the same in others. I never liked what others did, and I still don't. "Popular" music and I never really hit it off. However, much of the music I liked when I was littler has worked its way out of my life, as has much of the music I liked in middle school. Most of that, I'll admit, was music that my older brother listened to. Because he liked it, I liked it too. Now I've found my own taste.

It's impossible to pick a favorite song, but one of them has to be Wild Squall by the Sea Dogges. It's such a hauntingly beautiful song and has a way of invoking all ranges of emotion. I connect to several fantastic people and memories. One of them is driving into Horseshoe Canyon with my dad. It's one of our favorite camping places, and the stars were coming out above us. We played this song several times in a row and sang it. It also reminds me of singing it around a campfire at the Primitive Skills Rendezvous and Knap-In that we go to. I've been going there for longer than I can remember, and it's like another home to me. Sitting around the fire with my second family making music with them is one of my favorite memories. They actually asked me to sing it several more times. The last memory I associate with that song is probably my most vivid and personally important to me. Before my best friend left for National Guard training for 7 months, we had one last really awesome day. We hung out at my dad's house until about 2 in the morning, and spent a lot of that time listening to, singing, and discussing music. I vividly remember this song coming on, and singing it with him. He's one of the most important people in my life, and this is one of those times I remember with absolute crystal clarity.

I admire the music of Enya in particular because her music has such a unique feel. It has this smooth, pulsing rhythm that just knocks you back and carries you away like an ocean tide. It never fails to give me goosebumps, and all of her work is just so beautiful and otherworldly.

Without music, my world and life would be much bleaker and quite simply lifeless. Music brings color to the world, and expresses things that words can't. Hardly an hour goes by that I don't listen to music, and when I'm not listening to music I'm singing it. It makes me think like little else does, and offers ideas and inspiration and peace. My own sanity and likely the health and safety of those around me would be compromised without music.

My closer friends do listen to some of the same kinds of music that I do. With some of them, it's because I made them listen to a certain band and they fell in love with it just like me, or vise versa. With others, I think the answer is slightly less straightforward. I'm not a people-person, and I'm not prone to making close friends quickly or easily. They say your vibe attracts your tribe. Those with the vibe of my particular tribe all seem to have a similarly odd taste in music. The people I find myself attracted to as friends all share my style.

3D Art

This piece was recently found near a stream bed. Unlike an arrowhead or knife blade, this piece had no discernible use. This is the story of its creation thousands of years ago.

The little girl cries, sitting outside her family's wigwam. Her mother is away in the woods, gathering willow limbs for weaving baskets. Her father is busy knapping flint, making new spearheads for his atlatl darts and fixing old ones. He also needs a new knife, and is intent on his job so he can get it all done today. The little girl feels forlorn and forgotten. She wants her father to play with her. Stumbling over her own feet, she makes her way over to where he sits in a circle of other men, bent over the piece of blue flint on his knee, antler striker at the ready to knock off another flat shard of the rock. He doesn't notice his daughter until he is tugging at his buckskin tunic. Impatiently, he tells her to sit down and play by herself, he's busy. She starts to cry again, and a pang of sorrow enters the man's heart. He wishes he could play with her, take her in his lap and tell her stories, but he needs his weapons to be ready for the next day's hunt. He picks up a spare piece of jasper from the pile of discarded rock before him, and quickly fashions it into the figure of a man. He hands it to the little girl, pacifying her. She squeezes his hand, then goes off to play with her new toy. For years she keeps it tucked into a pocket, and even as a young woman, carries it as a talisman. Eventually, time takes her and it, hiding the doll deep in the earth for many years until depositing it on the banks of a stream.

Edward Hopper: Gas

On the Open Road

I lean against my car, waiting for the service man finish with what he's doing. I stare off into the distance, daydreaming. Breathing deeply, I take in the sharp scent of the gas that permeates the air here. The smell sits thick and noxious in the back of my throat. But behind it, I smell something clean and fresh. Just the faintest scent of the forest. Golden grass waves at me from the side of the highway, as if beckoning me. It’s darker than normal, wet with the recent rainstorm that has just passes. faint shafts of light now illuminate the world, and one falls on me, warming my skin. A breeze caresses my face, chasing the smell of gas from my throat and filling it with the cool smell of the forest that awaits me beyond the golden grass. It looks fresh and dark, the road I follow disappearing into its depths. The road is empty and all mine, and I feel impatient to resume following it. I know not where it goes, for it goes away from here. Closing my eyes, I listen to the rustle of the wind in the grass and trees, waiting for the service man to call for me. Finally, I hear him, and in no time my tank is full and I am ready. My journey lies stretched before me, no foreseeable end or destination. I start my car, and she roars to life, almost as eager as me, it seems, to be back on the road. Soon, I am rushing into the dark tunnel of trees, sweet peace spreading through me with the clean air.

Pillowtalk assignment

Pallid and forlorn,

The pillow sits on my bed

Waiting for my dreams.

The girl rolled off her bed, lifting her head from the dusty old pillow. She turned and stared at it morosely for a few moments. It belonged to her grandpa. "Belonged..." she thought numbly. He was gone now. Forever. For as long as she could remember, the old pillow with its pallid striped pattern had lain at the head of his bed. When she was little, she would clamber into the bed with him in the  mornings and lay there as he told her stories. Stories of his childhood, or of Grandma or of his brothers. Sometimes he would fabricate stories of his adventures as a cowboy, telling of his faithful horse and his many wrangles with Jessie James. Her grandpa. The man who had given her unconditional love and support, the one she told everything to. On impulse, she had snatched his pillow when they were cleaning out his house. It was all she really had left of him now. There were pictures, of course, but they felt immaterial. The didn't feel like him. The faint spicy scent of his aftershave clung to it, and she inhaled deeply. Then, trying to take heart, she stood up to face another day without him, placing the pillow forlornly on her bed.

Art Inspired Poems

Inspired by “Wings of a Dream”

A crescent moon rises

in a pale blue sky

while jagged mountains stand sentinel.

A maiden sleeps

above the blissful deeps

of her valley down below.

A falcon flies, stern and proud,

above her sleeping form.

It calls to her, and awakens her spirit,

trapped in mortal skin.

Freed in sleep, it answers the cry,

and springs into the night.

On rainbow wings, she flies and sings,

with her guardian the falcon.

Inspired by “Totem”

The opulent water

shimmers and swirls below me

rippling with the hues of sunrise.

The water clears before me,

stilled under the intensity of my gaze,

and reveals my own eyes staring back

from the face of a mighty wolf.

Dark brown eyes transition to molten gold.

But the light of curiosity within them stays the same.

I stare at the wolf in the water.

My reflection.

My guide.

My totem.

Art Study: Golden Branches

The branches spreading above me stand out against the vivid blue of the sky, spider-webbing it with dark, jagged lines. The leaves above me rustle dryly. It's autumn, and all the trees in the valley are undergoing their gradual change from green to fiery gold. The sun shines through the leaves, tinting the air gold and heating the ground below. The thick carpet of dry leaves beneath me crackles and releases the sharp, earthy scent of fall as I shift from my seat against the trunk. I lay down on the warm ground and listen to the soft voice of the wind as it stirs through the branches. For a few moments, here, in Gaia's shining temple, I can let myself breathe. I can pretend that I am out of reach of the insipid city lights and the constant squabble of human life. I can trade the roar of the highway for the rush of the wind. For the first time in far too long, I feel fully free, staring up at the melded copper leaves above me. Watching the branches sway in the wind, I sink into quiet thought, and I let the deep calm of the forest wash blissfully through me. 

Artist Profile: Charles Frizzell

Charles Frizzell was born in 1944 in western Kentucky. Not much is published about his past or personal life, including his exact hometown or any information on his parents. Likewise, no information on marriages or romances is mentioned anywhere, and the closest thing to friendships that was written about are the artists and people he was influenced by or worked with. He says his grandfather was a major source of inspiration, taking him to the train yards as a child to watch the engines. Many of his earliest works were of trains, and he drew them often as a child. Andrew Wyeth, Norman Rockwell, Maxfield Parrish, John Singer and several others influenced him heavily as an artist. He worked with Frank Howell, and he says that Howell was most certainly one of his heaviest influences. He stayed in western Kentucky for college, going to Murray State University and earning a BA in Fine Arts. After college, he suffered from a lack of endorsement as an artist. This put a damper of the start of his career. He found himself moving west in a search for work. He landed in Victor, Colorado. He described it as "an end-of-the-line" sort of place. Here, working at a frame shop, he slowly built a career. However, he started with very low popularity and had to continue moving west. He bought a cheap house surrounded by nature, which served as inspiration for him. Something he has mentioned but which is not terribly well known is that his house turned out to be inhabited by a "mostly benevolent" spirit. Eventually, his art became more well-liked, and now he has won many awards and several of his pieces are on permanent display. Frizzell does most of his work with acrylics, but he does sometimes work in other mediums. These include sketches on canvas, watercolor, pen and ink drawings, graphite sketches, and lithography which is an ancient form of printing, put in loose terms. His work is associated with the modern period of art. Some of it is considered realism work, but others delve more into the reals of the mystical. Several of his more popular works are "Merging Wisdom," "Thunder Dance," and "Oneness." One of my personal favorites is "Wings of a Dream." It depicts a gorgeous valley with a Native American girl sleeping under a tree in the forefront. A falcon flies over the valley, with winged girl flying below him. Another of my favorites is "Totem." A young Native American man peers at his reflection in the water, and finds a wolf staring back.

During Charles Frizzell's lifetime has included several important historical events. Some of the quite notable ones include 9/11, the assassination of JFK, and the Civil Rights movement. Railroad transportation was continuing to grow at this time, and a train yard was built in his town. This is notable because, as I mentioned, his grandfather took him to the train yards often to watch the trains go by. This was a heavy influence in his art, both as a child and in his early years as a professional. Another movement that was happening during his lifetime was a rise in environmental awareness. Rachel Carson published Silent Spring, and sparked in the world a greater awareness for the environment. This was important to his work, because nature was his main inspiration and the environment was the focus in many of his paintings. Great Sand dunes National Park was also created during his career. He painted it for a competition, and ended up winning. That painting is still on display in a permanent exhibit.  

Response to Dan In Real Life questons

I think the amount that a family should be involved in someone’s relationship changes with the circumstance. For instance, when someone is young, I think their family should have much more involvement in their relationship than when they’re older. When they’re in middle and high school, they’re still pretty new to the game and are more in need of guidance. It’s easy for people in that age to get into an unhealthy relationship and just not realize it, and let’s be honest, our decision making skills are not exactly stellar. As galling as it is to admit, I think parents should be at least somewhat involved in their kid’s relationships. As people get older, I think the family ultimately has less say in the relationships one may choose to have.

I do believe that well-traveled people are more interesting. They have more stories and experience and exposure to other peoples’ customs. People who aren’t quite so well-traveled can still be perfectly interesting, but there’s something alluring to hearing about far off lands that the average person probably won’t see.

I think asking questions can make you a good conversationalist, if you ask the right questions. Like, if someone is telling a story, ask questions about that. It keeps the conversation going, and generally seems to keep the whole experience more engaging for both parties. However, just going all interrogation-style on someone with your questions does not make you a good conversationalist. It just makes you look like a creeper or an FBI agent. Choose your questioning tactics carefully, my friends.

When Dan told the kids that “life is full of disappointment,” it definitely rang true to me. Disappointment will always be present in life, be it big or small, no matter what you do or where you go. Unless you just never get your hopes up for anything or have no goals, in which case I am sorry because that sounds intensely boring. On your behalf, I will be disappointed for you. In any case, I think your quality of life in the face of constant disappointment depends on how you react to it. Someone once told me to “always be a pessimist. That way you’ll always be either right or pleasantly surprised.” That is certainly one way to escape disappointment, but that’s not quite  how I choose to handle it. Instead, I pick myself up, laugh, and tell the source of my disappointment to f*** off because it’s not worth my time to dwell on it. Then I move on.

When I was a kid, I loved Hide and Seek. I was never afraid to wriggle into tight places, and often I would hide in cabinets. At some point, I discovered that no one ever looked up. I began hiding on roofs and in trees, and no one ever found me. I am a pro at finding places no one would ever think to look, and I’ve never been afraid to clamber into those places.

"Reely" good quotes

"Reel" life

My favorite movie, inexorably and incurably, is The Blues Brothers. It’s honestly very hard to choose that over the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and my inner nerd kind of feels like it’s betraying itself. I love that movie because it’s full of humor but also intense and wonderful. The first time I saw it was with my dad at a showing at the Gillioz, so it holds good memories for me. It’s also one of my best friend’s favorite movies, and it’s one of the things we connected over. I swear, between the two of us, we could quote the entire movie. 

I don’t usually care for romantic comedies or dramas at all. They bore me and they all have the same plot line, and I strongly believe they are all silly, idealistic, and frivolous. I’m also not a fan of military or political movies. I don’t usually watch movies, honestly. But when I do, it’s usually at a friend’s house or at home, holed up in my room. I like having company for a movie if I’ve seen it before or don’t particularly care to pay attention to it. It makes it more interesting to have someone to talk to about it. Otherwise, I like to be alone so that I can pay attention. The only exception would be if a friend wants to watch it as much as I do, and is willing to shut up and sit with me and watch it. Food is also a plus for movie viewing, but lets be honest, food always makes everything better. The survey said I am introverted and serious, as well as skeptical and critical. I’m also calm and organized and able to deal with stress, as well as dependable. I also, according to this, am very proud and competitive and express my anger directly. I guess a lot of that isn’t too far off the mark. If a movie were to be made about me, I would play myself, and the few friends that would be in the movie would also play themselves. No one but us can accurately capture our astronomical levels of awkwardness, and our sadistic senses of humor cannot be imitated. Likewise, we are the only ones that could pull our stunts. I’m unsure of any plot points that would be in my movie, but I imagine a prison break will be in there somewhere. I only wish I was kidding. The world may spontaneously end, go up in flames, whathaveyou. I can promise that at some point there will be a large explosion or series of explosions, with my lovely group of friends grinning maniacally and walking away from said explosion(s), laughing. Lots of the soundtrack will be Nirvana and Korn songs. Nirvana’s Lithium in particular will be included, likely during the prison break.

Six-Word Memoir

An insomniac 

And an Incurable Dreamer.

No words until after my coffee!