Soundtrack

Okay, so clearly. The only way my last post is going to turn out with a happy ending is if my life actually turns into the movie I so frequently think it is.

And, of course, the determining factor of the tone and outcome of a movie is its soundtrack.

So I've begun trying to live my life with a soundtrack worthy of the happy ending I'm looking forward.

I'm thinking if I set up everything under my control to fall in line with an endearing indie film which speaks to the heart strings, then the things outside of my control must also fall in line, right? Circumstances succumb to peer pressure. I'm pretty sure.

So my beginning: Noah and the Whale.

If you want to feel like your real life is a beloved underground, underappreciated film where the male lead is Michael Cera, listen to this band. They are so charming in their naive authenticity. Bless them.

At this rate, I'm guessing H.B. ought to walk right back into my Starbucks some time in the next ... 10 months. Let's see.

If your life were a movie, what would your soundtrack be?

How Will He Find Me?

My life scenario right now:

Attractive British customer comes into Starbucks.
Orders Earl Grey tea.
Barista makes Earl Grey tea.
Barista falls for Attractive British customer.
Attractive British customer continues a pattern of Earl Grey teas from Starbucks.
Barista makes Earl Grey tea.
Barista falls for Attractive British customer.
Again.
And Again.
And Again.
Attractive British customer does not come into Starbucks at normal time.
Barista tries not to look for him.
Attractive British customer comes into Starbucks later than normal.
Barista is relieved.
Attractive British customer congratulates Barista on making it to Friday.
Barista's mind overheats and blows a fuse.
Barista stumbles over incoherent word fragments.
Barista attempts small talk.
Barista fails.
Attractive British customer receives Earl Grey tea.
Attractive British customer walks away.

Later:
Barista learns Attractive British customer is to return to homeland that very day.
Barista is heartbroken.
Barista replays the scene for the entire day.
Barista also remembers a sighting of Attractive British customer hesitating at the door to Starbucks the previous day.
Attractive British customer decided not to come in a second time.
Barista creates following scenario in mind:
Attractive British customer knew he was leaving today.
Attractive British customer was going to tell me something yesterday, but decided against it ... line too long.
Attractive British customer came in later than normal on last day.
Attractive British customer seemed disappointed when leaving Barista's register.
Attractive British customer returned to Starbucks on last day, but Barista was already gone.
Attractive British customer must have come in later than normal to try to have conversation with Barista, maybe line would be shorter, less busy, more time to talk.
Attractive British customer was disappointed when leaving Barista's register because no time to talk was had.
Attractive British customer made second attempt to say goodbye.
Attractive British customer was in love with Barista.
Barista is simultaneously despondent and encouraged/happy/relieved.

No joke. That's what I thought today. The past three weeks of my life have led up to today ... the day I should've confessed my undying love for HB (Hot Brit ... whose real name is David). And now, I'll never get the chance.

So, Casey. I'd like to make a long-distance dedication to the love of my life, David from England who worked at the Cleveland Clinic for a short time ... but long enough to win my heart. David, if you're out there listening, come back to Cleveland. To see you in line was what I came into work for, what I waited for every shift, and the chance that you might come in a second time kept me happy and hoping for the rest of my six hours. I promise I'm not a freak. Awkward, yes. Freak, no. You'd like me if we ever got the chance to talk about more than looking forward to Friday. Maybe even a lot.

How Will He Find Me?
The Weepies

If I don't stand out like a star among the moons
If I am always late and he always backs away too soon
I walk the world with a skin so thin
I can wear no adequate protection
Everything comes crashing in.
If I'm too wide open for this place
But not enough for him to recognize my face

How will he find me
With no one's arms to gather me together?
How will he find me?
Only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty
No longer young and not that pretty
How will he ever find me?

It never seems to matter, the tears I cry.
There's a well inside of me that never runs dry
From being born I guess, and born in life until we die.
The music and the hope for love keep me alive
Still I wonder, how will he find me?

And what shall I do with a drunken heart
With goggle eyes and the troubling hunger
Reaching forward to trick mirror men
Leaning out and in again.
If love is a game how can it be creation?
And if I'm wasting my time
How will he find me?

One thing you'd leave said ...

So I read the book Gilead by Marilynne Robinson this month for the IAM Reader's Guild. I've already mentioned this. The book is essentially one long letter, novel-length, from an elderly pastor to his young son. He writes to share with his son all the wisdom and stories he wishes he were going to live to tell him, but knows that when the son is old enough to understand them, he himself will be long gone.
A few days after finishing, I had a revelation about revelations.
At this point in my life, if I were going to leave one piece of information to my offspring, here's what I'd say:
The revelation that Life really is beautiful will often strike you at seemingly random times; treasure those moments; take even just a brief second to revel in them before returning to your regular scheduled programming. It will seem almost as if everything has suddenly become very vivid color - almost glossy - where before it has been flat and matte. And it will strike for a very short period of time, and then the world will return to being matte. It doesn't make life any less beautiful. And you will try to hold on to those vivid moments, especially when the world becomes grayscale, but don't waste too much time or energy trying to hard, because you won't succeed as well as you'd like to. But you should still try. And when the world does become grey, try to remember the vivid colors so as not to lose one second of your Life on this Earth.

It's not infinitely practical, but in my life, right now, I find it exceedingly important to remember.

What would you say?

Vocabular Nihilism

What if you don't have anything to say?

I knew this would happen

I knew if I didn't go home and write right away, I wouldn't remember what I wanted to say.
But I went to the party anyway. Because I wanted to be around people. And it was the right choice. It was very very good. But now I'm finally home, and after opening my mouth when I really should've kept it shut, I have nothing to say because I didn't go home and "open my mouth" and instead I kept it shut.
But basically, I live in Cleveland now. And I have been fighting this truth for a long time. I knew it was coming, but still, I tried to deny it. And I knew that eventually I was going to like it, but I tried to deny that, too. The good news is, it's been a week and I already like Cleveland. We had a rocky start, but nothing actually all that bad. Just exhausting.
Then tonight I went to a free dance showcase and there is just some plain old incredible stuff going on dance-wise in Cleveland. No joke. I was hugely hugely impressed.
Especially with Inlet Dance, which had been recommended to me and for which one of my new coworkers dances. Small world, eh?
The showcase in general, though. Top notch! I basically just smiled from ear to ear and actually found myself teary-eyed at all the beauty I saw.
It reminded me of the book I finished reading right before I went: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It's the IAM Reader's Guild book of the month this month. Just as I was leaving the house to go to the showcase, I underlined this line:

I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave -- that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm.

(The bold and italics are mine.)

It also makes me think of the Ingrid Michaelson song "Are We There Yet?" My favorite point in the song is where she gets to the line "This is too much for me to hold."

I'm currently really enthralled with the idea of "too much." This idea that there is so much beyond what we see and experience, and that it is to much to ever experience it all. And that should be frustrating, but instead I find it invigorating and encouraging. And I know there's too much, but I can't seem to get enough, but it's okay, because I know there's more. And the idea of putting for effort into even just trying to tap into that which lies beyond.
And to a certain extent, I think we're created for that. We're created to desire more than what we know or even can know. Because we're created to desire God. And there's so much more to Him, because He is everything. Things thought of and things forgotten.

I'm rambling again. I should not be allowed to communicate or attempt to communicate after 10 p.m. I normally say 11. But truthfully, I think it's 10. Seriously. My brain starts shutting down at 10. And I should probably respect this pattern and allow my body to try to follow suit. It'd probably thank me for it.