Chasing the Light

I had a grand plan to catch some live music tonight and report back to you here. My grand plan gave way, instead, to the promise of combining my daily walk and catching a flaming sunset. There was a large grass fire in Galveston County and in looking over the horizon, it was obvious that particulate matter was heavy in the air. If I tucked my camera into my jacket pocket, I might get lucky and get a good capture. Besides, after the wild time I had on New Year's Eve, I decided more fresh air was better.

I wish I could say it was a pleasant scent that greeted me when I hit the street. It was reminiscent of campfires from my youth but that smell doesn't give me the warm fuzzies. It brings back memories of cold, damp nights sleeping in a trailer on the back of a pickup and of long days reaching into dark, murky water to pull up a basket of ugly, slimy fish to add "just one more". I went fishing almost every weekend when I was a little kid and I think I've had enough campfires to last a lifetime.

Soon into my walk I hit my stride and I put the heavy air out of my mind, keeping an eye out for that shimmer or glint of light that would cause me to slow down and take my camera out of my pocket. I walked a mile, two miles. Nothing.

I turned north toward home and crossed over long shadows and settled into what the walk seemed to be - just a good long walk at the end of a workday. As I turned to the east and put the setting sun behind me, I noticed warmth on my shoulders once again and smiled as I watched a line of trees come into my view about thirty yards ahead of me. Each seemed to be bowing and bending, folding and reaching. They were playing with the light even as the light played with them.

I stopped to take a few shots and - yes - I talked to the trees. I thanked them for being so beautiful. I turned and gave a quick nod in thanks to the sun. I waved to a couple of passing cars as they honked at me. I don't think my neighborhood sees a lot of people taking pictures of trees, let along talking to them.

When I arrived home I met a neighbor in the hallway and after we greeted each other, he asked if I am always in such a good mood. Of course I'm not. I think the thing is that he only sees me when I'm coming in from one of my walks. If you connect the dots, it only makes sense.




©Michelle Scofield, January 3, 2012 All Rights Reserved

Abstract

From The Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Abstract: “Using elements of form (as color, line, or texture) with little or no attempt at creating a realistic picture.”

I bought what I consider to be my first real piece of art in May, 2010. I’d owned great furniture and prints, and an oil painting by my great-great-grandmother but nothing that I’d purchased myself to hang on a wall and look at. When I bought “Corteza” by Edgar Medina, it was as if I’d had a drink of the most delicious concoction on the planet. I wanted more. To my friends I’ve described the elation I felt when I made up my mind and said, “I’d like to have this” as a kind of high. I’ve felt it many times over since. It lasts for days and then – luckily – I don’t crash to a low, I enjoy the pleasant buzzing atmosphere bringing new art into my space creates.

I find myself drawn to abstract art more than figures or landscapes. I’m a photographer so I have a few of my owned framed pieces around to keep things real and I also own some portraits that seemed to ask me to take them home. I don’t know the subjects but the artists are charming.

Joan Miro was probably my first introduction to a “famous” artist’s work up close – as close as one could get to a Miro mural and appreciate it. In 1977 I went to the installation of "Personnages Oiseaux" on the campus of Wichita State University. I didn’t know the difference between strict surrealism and abstract art but Miro’s figures still struck me as quite random. My grandfather was enamored of Pablo Picasso and I knew enough to realize that this work was not the same but similar.

Over the last eighteen months, I’ve had the opportunity to watch a few artists paint abstract pieces (in studio) and the thing that impresses me the most is the building of the piece toward the finished product. As I’ve watched others work on their pieces, I’ve often thought of that Miro mural and how it was so very far from random.

I’ve also allowed myself the tiny fantasy (like the purchaser of a lottery ticket) to think that I might be that smart collector who has such a good eye that she has snapped up the right piece from an emerging artist. This will allow me to fund my ever-increasing art habit. From now until infinity.

The best thing about Abstract Art is that one doesn’t have to deal with reality. Please see my previous paragraph.



©Michelle Scofield, January 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved

Tracks

It's been a slow day for me. I admit that I rang the heck out of 2011 and after waking up at 7:30 this morning, I fixed coffee for my guest, made (hopefully) pleasant talk ("That air mattress was really comfortable? Wow!"), and fell back into bed after a hug goodbye. I felt much more alive when I woke the second time - a little after 1 pm.

Not wanting to leave my place, I was happy to have a RedBox movie to watch, "Margin Call", with Kevin Spacey. Detailed plot and great acting. Stanley Tucci has a small but intense part. I enjoy watching him in anything he's in. The dialogue is the thing in "Margin Call". I don't remember any music, not one song or note. Maybe it was there but the story was complex and required my rapt attention. I don't recall a sound track.

I'm a soundtrack junkie. I know I'll have some time to browse music stores tomorrow and I will head straight to that bin of CDs. I don't purchase soundtracks based on how I feel about the movie. I buy for the music itself. One of my favorites is from "Casino". It's jam-packed with everything from Hoagy Carmichael to Cream to Otis Redding. Admittedly, my tastes tend toward music my mom listened to while I was growing up so anything with a hint of nostalgia is attractive to me. If I can dance to it, all the better.

I found this list, from Entertainment Weekly, January, 2011. The authors count down 100 greatest movie soundtracks of all time. Certainly that's a subjective thought and I shuddered at some of the selections (Hi, I'm Michelle and I don't like Disney) but I agree with (and own) quite a few. I think I'm on my 3rd copy of "Purple Rain" and "Pulp Fiction" is my go-to for car trips. I canNOT sit still when music from "Saturday Night Fever" plays. It's my youth. I lived Saturday Night Fever every Friday and Saturday night for a couple years in the late 70's. The movie gave birth to disco and the music from the movie kept it alive on the dance floor.

Here's what's on my look-for list when I hit HalfPrice Books tomorrow: "Virgin Suicides", "The Graduate", "Waiting to Exhale", and "Jackie Brown." If I can find even one of them, I'll be a happy listener.

Three completely different soundtracks that weren't on the list that I think are very good: "Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason", "A Knight's Tale", and "Father of the Bride".

Suggestions? Talk to me.






©Michelle Scofield, January 1, 2012 All Rights Reserved

I'm Still Here

I wonder at what rate this cursor ticks. Is it once per second? I watch the beat as it metronomes me, telling me that the majority of my page is white.

Blank. Blink. Blank.

I had the words earlier today. Before now. Now is later than then.
Here is what I want to say. You decide if it applies to you. We have all the time in the world.

Blink.

The last two years were not easy ones for me. Some of you are more aware of this than others. The last year was less easy for some of you than others. “Less easy” is a soft way of saying it was hard. Hard may be too soft. For some of us, last year was brutal.

Blinking again.

I’m still here.

There were times that I wasn’t sure if I would be. It wasn’t that I looked all the way to December 31, 2011 and thought, “I wonder what I’ll be doing on that day.” I didn’t think about the future a whole lot at the beginning of this year. I was so deep in a rut that I didn’t even know there was a road, let alone a road leading to any where or when. I was stuck, I knew I was stuck and I was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. I DID know that I wanted to somehow get moving again.

I climbed, I reached, I was pulled, and I got a leg up. I followed the voices and laughter, the murmurs of encouragement pressed into me along with hugs at arrivals and partings of friends I’d long ignored. I moved out of the rut in a hundred different ways, but I’m out.

I think what happened was…I blinked. I stopped staring at my surroundings which had grown familiar and blurry and I looked at them in a different way. I decided to move into light, to seek help when I desperately needed it. I’m still moving toward that which feels as if it’s good for me and away from that which doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of anything for me. If it dulls my senses or makes me sad, it’s not for me.

Blink. Blank.

There is still space on this page, still something I want to say.

For those who face challenges this year, next year, the next, and on…

Know that I’m here. I value our relationships and I appreciate the help you’ve given me along the way. Know that I will feel valued if you choose to ask me for help. If I can point you toward an expert, I will. If all you need is to unload, go for it. I’m first-rate at setting boundaries, so I’ll protect myself and won’t let anything get out of hand. It all goes back to how I got out of my rut.

The thing is, we are all so very strong and I would never deny our incredible capabilities as individuals. We are also deserving of encouragement and the occasional assist.


Happy New Year with Much Love and Affection,


Michelle

Bound for Broadway?

I got an end of the year bonus today - sort of. I was able to leave the office at noon. Bonus! I’m also off work Monday so I’m excited to have three and a half days off work. Wish I’d known about this afternoon before this morning. With advance notice I think I might have been headed to the airport instead of the grocery store. Ah well, never look a gift horse blah, blah, blah, right? I was able to cruise the aisles and stock up on some fun foods for the weekend without battling the late day crowds. I’m now ready to make black eye peas and also bought some shrimp and plenty of fresh produce. I’m all set for a healthy and yummy New Year’s weekend.

Just back from New Orleans and Las Vegas, I’m thinking about my next getaway. Last year I said I’d go to New York City and I didn’t. Why? New job, no real oomph. Those reasons are as good and as bad as any. This year I want to do it. I want to: walk, shop, dine, shoot (my camera), and see (A show. Two? Three?). No particular order to the list. I want to stay in a fantastic hotel room and share cocktails with friends and/or strangers in fairly dark venues with lovely music.

As far as entertainment goes, today I watched a documentary called “Show Business: The Road to Broadway”. It’s from 2007. It follows four new musicals from prior to their Broadway openings to the Tony Awards. The shows are: “Wicked”, “Taboo”, “Avenue Q”, and “Caroline, or Change”. The film was a good way for me to spend a little time unwinding (while working a jigsaw puzzle – guilty pleasure).

I vaguely remember the controversy around Rosie O’Donnell funding and overseeing production aspects of Boy George’s “Taboo”. Although I wouldn’t likely be interested in seeing that particular show, it made me a little sad to see the energy invested in what seemed to be a doomed endeavor from the start. I can't imagine seeing "Avenue Q". I can barely handle the Muppet ad that comes on at the movie theatres. Blech. "Caroline, or Change" seemed to be something I would have liked - in a burn through half a box of Kleenex way.

Now to what gets me going: as the documentary opened, my interest was sparked (ignited?) at the possibility of seeing and hearing Idina Menzel in the role of Elphaba. I’ve seen “Wicked” here in Houston and love, Love, LOVE the play. I wish I’d seen it on Broadway with Menzel. I recently watched “Rent” on DVD with the cast that closed the show. Same thing, wish I’d seen it with Menzel as Maureen.

That’s what this piece is about. I wish to go to New York and see the play (or plays) I want to see. I don’t want to say, “Sure wish I’d seen that in New York like I wanted instead of waiting for the touring production."

So I’m going to start researching. So far “Memphis” is topping my list. Suggestions are welcome. Whether or not I’ll heed them is another issue entirely.



©Michelle Scofield, December 30, 2011 All Rights Reserved

Pass(i)on

Spoiler alert. I’m going to write about a movie. I’m not going to get too deep into the plot but I’m going to discuss it a little so stop reading now if you don’t like that sort of thing. If you don’t like that sort of thing, you better stop reading my writing for the next year because I’m planning on weaving a whole lot of talk about cinema, theatre, visual art, photography, music, and whatever other art I can get my brain around onto these pages. Consider yourself warned and please, PLEASE, play along. Comment, write, tweet, text, participate. I’m on a mission to increase my worldscape.

As I often do, I spent yesterday evening at the movie theatre. I was expecting a light comedy. “Young Adult” with Charlize Theron turned out to be darker than I was hoping for. As the story unfolded, I found myself pulled pack to high school, to a mirror I kept in my locker, to a steamy shower room after gym class, to my own bathroom mirror, to any reflective surface I came across in the mid-1970’s. Back then I was seeking a blonde bombshell, Farrah, Christie. I found Michelle, brunette, freckled, NotBlonde. I yearned to be NotMe.

The film was uncomfortable for my fifty-one year old self. I suppose I haven’t stepped as far from my sixteen year old self as I’d like to believe.

The trailers had me believing that Theron’s character would leave the big city, go back to her hometown and reconnect with her now-famous first love. Hilarity would follow, brought on by her acerbic, slightly bitchy antics. Hilarious wouldn’t be my word for it. Pathetic is closer. Theron does pathetic like few others can. Remember “Monster”? Dial that back, put it in a fetching package and you’ve got “Young Adult”.

So, to passion. My New Year’s Resolution is to look past my own (passions) and to learn from others’. I came home from the movie and Google’d the actress. Reading about the Charlize Theron Africa Outreach Project, I’m impressed at the way this celebrity is using her notoriety to push for change. She’s always seemed very glamorous to me - red carpet, Oscar, etc, etc. Working against HIV/AIDs strikes me as the opposite of glamorous. It strikes me as work.

What it comes down to is this. I plunk down my money to be removed from reality for a couple of hours. I make the assumption that the beautiful men and women who’ve been hired to play roles in the films love what they do. Why? Because I NEED them to love it. I’m paying my hard-earned cash for them to entertain me. But if I let it play out just a little further…perhaps I’m actually part of what they need to do. Maybe my cash helps them move toward living their passion? (I can dream.) Perhaps we can all play a part in each others’ passions if we are brave enough and smart enough to step out and do what we are meant to do.

Blessings on you, Ms. Theron, for doing what you’re doing. Who knows how long you will, but I can see now that the acting is a job that you happen to do very well. The work you’re doing, that’s entirely different. There are really no words to describe it.





©Michelle Scofield, December 29, 2011 All Rights Reserved

Attachments

I'm having trouble sleeping. Again. Or is it still? I'm not sure. I wake several times each night, pulling myself out of the current that's pulled me from the dayshore and attempting to stand on the shifting sand of Subconscious. My body aches in the morning, worn down and out from the effort to sink back onto an imagined and longed-for sea of Tranquility. I seem to have it all backwards. I am fighting to relax.

I've become tenacious about my tension. It defines me. I love my yoga classes. I love the power vinyasa flow classes better than the gentle hatha classes. This tells me I should probably take more hatha classes. It's more difficult for me to sit in my stillness than to keep moving. I will do better but if I don't I guess I'll need to be okay with that. I'm smiling as I write this. I'll try. I will.

I saw my doctor yesterday about my blood pressure. It's still a little higher than we'd both like it to be but it's coming down. I expressed my frustration about not being able to run very far because of this old foot injury. Every time I increase my mileage, the pain flares up. Her advice was nothing short of sage. "Don't do that."

I was so active prior to this and I am unbelievably hard on myself.

"Don't do that."

I like this doctor. I haven't opened up to a medical provider in this way for a very long time. She had some good ideas and spent time with me, getting to know me. I know how hard that can be and it's appreciated.

As I was walking out the door today I realized my keys felt a little light. I'd detached all the keycards when I went for a walk last night. I retrieved them from the dining room table and snapped the apparatus back together. Looking at the keychain I realized the letters are beginning to fade. Dad gave it to me so I could hand my carkeys to valets and not give them my housekeys. He always wanted me to be safe. Now I have a seperate key for my car, but I think I'll always keep this keychain. It reminds me of him, even though some of the memories are beginning to fade - just a little.

Lately I've been realizing just how much of my social life was tied up in my father. We were travel companions. We were very good friends - I didn't know father and daughter could be such close friends. I talked with him on the phone every Sunday morning and often one or two times additionally during the week.

I feel a strong need to move on - to let go of old attachments that may very well be holding me back. I also want to strengthen my existing attachments and add new ones. It's there for me. It's up to me to decide what to do with it.

For now:

My favorite place is Grand Cayman. I can recall the sound of the waves when I close my eyes. Tonight my bed will be a raft and I will drift away on waves remembering the greens and blues of the ocean. I will stay as long as I stay and then I will allow myself to return when I am able. For now.