They Say Inspiration Can Come From Anywhere...

Well, today I was sitting at school (while trapped there for two hours) when I was suddenly struck by an interesting idea. Of course, such a thing is not uncommon--ideas come from so many different places and things that I'm used to it. It was the nature of the idea that intrigued me, though. I had the clear impression that there was some work I needed to undertake, that I was neglecting something that was left specifically to me.

The true shape of the project didn't set in for another twenty minutes, though. On my way to the bathroom, after putting my briefcase beneath my chair in my choir class, I began to sing--without really noticing--the song I wrote about a year-and-a-half ago: Nephi's Psalm. Somehow or another, while I was getting a drink the lyrics of that song congealed with a scripture reference my mother had given me, Ammon's Psalm in Alma 26. It was then I realized that I needed to write songs for the major prophets of the Book of Mormon. My roommate knows a pianist with too much time on her hands, and I already have it all but figured out which ones I need to do. By the time I'm done I should have a full program's worth of songs, including a duet between Moroni and Mormon and a song where a contemporary person is joined by all of the prophets as they give their advice to the latter days.

It should be epic, but it will probably take me several months. Who knows, maybe I will post some of the lyrics up here as I get them done.

So, what do you think?

Instant Wisdom

"It is better to be ignorant than to be mistaken." - Russian Proverb
"I'd rather not know at all than jump to the wrong conclusion." - Kirstin's translation

Romance:
It is not the pounding of blood and a reaction to beautiful words, this thing we call romance. No, it is the tango between two souls.

Money:
The empty god of a million wasted lives.

An Ode To My Man Harem

The past week has been something of a fascinating experience for me, of that I am certain. Oh, it would have been like all the others with the cycle of going to class, going home, causing mayhem, and sleeping if it had not been for one thing: a sinus infection. Third week of school and I get hit with something that devastates my ability to function and leaves me feeling so horrible that it is literally an effort to get my fevered bum unto the couch so my housemates knew I was still playing at living. Thankfully, though, it waited until Friday to really hit, and I was able to force myself to class because I had a much dreaded math exam that I simply could not miss. I didn't move the rest of the weekend.

So, today, a bit on the late side, I am going to type of a brief explanation of something for my creative writing class. Yes, I was too sick to even think in coherent sentences. The writing I did over the weekend is so bad that I am ashamed to claim it.

Dr. P, crazy thing that he is, decided to make life interesting; the entire class knew that one the moment he walked in carrying a stack of dictionaries that was trying its hardest to obscure his face. He then proclaimed that we were going to get into groups of five and randomly pick two words a piece from the dictionary given to our group. That seemed easy enough at first. And then he had us switch words with other groups and pass them out randomly. "Now, class, you're going to write a story off your list of 42 things I had you write for class, and you're going to use those two words you've been given," he said quite gleefully. Looking at the two strips of paper on my desk, I was horrified.

How in the world was I supposed to include "xenogenesis" and "Northamptonshire" in a story about me? Not only am I the near spitting image of my dad, but I also have a decided lack of experience when it comes to random shires in England. I was, to say the least, daunted by the task.

Well, in the end I decided to go with the prompt that simply said "man harem." A few of my classmates initialed by it, indicating that they wanted to hear the story, and I am more than willing to tell it. After all, it sounds a bit weird if you just mention a man harem. I think it probably caught their attention because it is such an odd phrase, and it seems to promise an interesting story at the very least. Personally, I think it's just a funny story that manages to capture my high school experience.

You see, my man harem was a group of guys that more or less treated me like a queen. It helps that one of them, Jon, was so obsessed with England that he was constantly going off about it, so that helps me use "Northamptonshire." I bet he said it at least once, knowing him. "Xenogenesis" presented something of a problem, but then I remember that we randomly had a discussion about how much they look like their parents (all because we were teasing Nick about looking like neither of his parents and more like one of the seminary teachers). "Illiterate"... Well, when you hang out with a group of guys who read manga and whine if you ask them to do more than that, it would seem you have quite an illiterate group. Worse, though, was the fact that they were all illiterate in the world of women. Honestly, the amount of advice I had to give them on getting girls was...sad.

Anyway, that's what I would tell in my story, and how I would use the words.

Sing With Your Lips

Professor Sham's favorite thing to say about theatre is that you need to be the character. He tells us that we are not supposed to act because that is being a horrible, even wretched, actor. Anyone, he says, can get up on a stage and force what they would do on a character. Real theatre happens when you toss aside who you are, who you have been, and who you will be and simply exist in the moment.

I suppose that's how I ended up on a stage in front of my class lip syncing to "The Winner Takes It All" from Mama Mia.

About a week ago he went off on one of his "acting versus being" tangents, and then gave us all a wicked grin. "In a week, class, you are going to be a lip sync. You will stand in front of the class and convince us that that, up on the stage, is a real person and that the voice is coming from you."

I was horrified. How was I supposed to do that? Oh, sure, I understand the entire thing about being; I've had to let go of who I was many times in the past. But to make it seem like, down to the very breath, I was someone else? That was going to be tricky.

Most of the next week was spent searching for a song, my worry growing with each day as I failed to come up with an idea. And then the coughing started. Beth, one of my housemates, had brought home a cold from the hospital. "Well," I thought to myself when I lost my voice, "at least I would be able to sing along and not be heard."

I stood in front of the class, the first few strains of the music cutting through the air as I tried not to look too nervous. But I couldn't seem to focus. And then the words started. Seconds passed as I mouthed along, throwing my body into the act as well as I could (considering how angry my kidneys are being). I made sure to breathe and do my best with being in line with the words. And then it was over. Just like that. There was a pause as the class considered me, and then came the murmured, "She was out." Out of character.

Or rather, that's how it would have been if I had gotten the chance to perform today.

Becoming One With The Universe

So I never thought the day would come when I was doing yoga on a weekly basis. Honestly, I think this may be one giant hint from the universe that I may need to just take a yoga class next semester.

You see, last week in my creative writing class (yes, you read that right) we did yoga in order to open up our senses. It was very nifty and relaxing, and I was a much happier person throughout the day (even in math class). What was particularly fascinating, though, was the fact I felt more grounded, even though it had only been a very short session. I had never thought of applying meditation and stretching to creative writing, but looking back I now see the connection as being obvious. Your mind needs to be centered and calm in order to work at its best, and yoga helps with that.

What really stunned me, though, was when I got to my acting I class this morning and the teacher went straight into yoga. We stretched, and zenned, and melded with the floor for an hour. He then told us that as actors we have to be able to focus and empty our minds even in the most chaotic of situations. Yoga apparently helps with that, too. All I know is that I am sitting on a bench just after acting I, and I feel pretty dang good. Oh, that baby cobra position might have made my muscles sore, and I certainly hated the part where we were on our knees... But my mind feels better.

I guess I'll just have to look into doing some yoga on my own until I can get into a class next semester. After all, as an actor and a writer I need to get in touch with myself and the universe as much and as well as possible.

The Source of All Evil

You would think they were harmless, what with their fluffy tails and floppy ears. And that's where they'll get you every time. One minute you're thinking "oh, it's so cute" and the next its teeth are set so far into your skin that you have to peel the blasted thing off with a crowbar. What evil am I speaking of?

Rabbits. Bunnies. Cottontails.

Whatever you want to call them, they are the source of all evil. Now what, you wonder, brought this up? Well, one of my dear friends introduced me to a variety of rabbit known as the "angora", and in it I found the greatest evil of all. They are so entirely adorable that my soul writhed in fear. A sight to see, they are a breed of bunny that is literally a puddle of fur with two large foofs of fur popping out to hint that there are, in fact, ears lurking somewhere in there. All you see are their cute buttony noses and, horror of horrors, their mouths.

As an author concerned for your well being, I must warn you to look away if you cannot take the cuteness. These creatures are dangerous beyond measure, and will steal your soul as quickly as eat a carrot.

Adventures in Creative Writing

Well, now, isn't this interesting? My blog has now become the host for a class of mine; rather, my creative writing will now be a huge part of this blog. Dr. Petersen, my creative writing professor, has determined that we get to keep everyone up to tabs on our writing. He, in an attempt to get us more comfortable with technology and also to allow him to see what we are working on, thinks this will be a brilliant idea. Hah.

I suppose this means that those of you who follow my blog are going to be inflicted with more of my writing. Eventually I am going to try and get pieces of my various novels up just so you can see what writing I am doing outside of class.

If nothing else, this should be an adventure. I will try to keep up on my usual blogging, too, which should be easier once I have internet in nine days. Here's hoping, anyway.