reading aloud makes me stupid happy. or maybe just stupid.
in Funny Stuff
as abnormal psychology, art, bedtime routine, chance cause, Christian, face, God, Harry, Harry Potter, I. KNOW, Jess, mirror face, Paul, score one, someone, time, volunteer
There are certain things that I get more excited about than I probably should.
Things like walking into the bathroom to perform my get-ready-for-bedtime routine and suddenly realizing that I already flossed today. Major score, one less thing to do.
And oh, what if my get-ready-for-bedtime routine was something that I actually did perform? Like, on a stage? I think I’d be a starving artist, cause not many people would buy tickets. I think that my life-as-art act might be better as life then as art. Although I’ve been told that I make quite a mirror face, so there’s that. Maybe somebody would buy a ticket to see me make my mirror face.
Or maybe not.
Oh, but back to things that make me more excited than is normal. See, I get really happy when someone asks me to read out loud in a group. Of course, I don’t let it show. When they ask for a volunteer, I wait for what I consider to be an appropriate amount of time so as not to seem too needy, and then I casually say, Oh. I guess I will. I mean, if nobody else wants to…But inside, it’s my birthday. And you’re all the guests and oh look! the birthday girl gets to read! OUT LOUD! and bam! she gets to practice her diction and emote through her words–even if it is just a book about abnormal psychology or fear and art or dance history or whatever, cause READING! OUT LOUD! LIKE, FOR REAL! and who needs cake when you’ve got that?!
And tonight, I got the chance. Cause I was at a Bible Study that my friend Christian leads and you guessed it, he asked for a volunteer to read aloud and nobody said anything (I. KNOW. I don’t understand it, either!). So he finally was like, Okay, Jess. I know you want to read out loud. Do it. And I was all, Oh, well, sure. I mean, I guess I could. I suppose I have time to read a few vers–and I was gone. Happily reading out loud.
Until I came across this one particular verse. It was about someone named Epaphrotitus (I might have just spelled that wrong; spellcheck certainly thinks so, but it might not be up on its Roman names. And that might not be a Roman name). And Paul is praising this guy with the name that’s proving to be unspellable, saying that he is living right–for others and God and all that jazz but probably not in that order–and then Paul says this: And then he got sick and almost died.
And cue Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter, because remember how she seems to be laughing all the time? When it is terribly inappropriate, too; like, when some of the best characters in the story are dying, leaving Harry alone. AGAIN. Well, I read that verse–out loud, mind you–like this:
And then he got sick…trying not to laugh here…and almost…starting to laugh here..died…HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
And I will probably never get asked to read out loud in that group again, because who laughs like a crazy person at someone almost dying in the Bible? I mean, who other than me?
The responding silence is noted.
And not surprising.
Luckily, I was laughing so hard that other people started laughing too. Probably not at someone almost dying, though; it was probably more at me. Which is fine. I will have to practice my delivery, I suppose. I will have to learn what emotions go with what words all over again. I will have to be appropriate.
I have a lot of homework.
firsts: thestrals and snow shoveling.
in I Lift My Eyes Up, Loved Ones, photography, Thoughts and Feelings
as brother jonathan, caption, Christian, E. You, gortex gloves, Harry, Harry Potter, jonathan, kid gloves, Luna Lovegood, nube, part, snow, Thestrals, time
And here’s the part when I tell you that I shoveled snow for the very first time in my life this weekend and you gasp.
And then you tell me that it’s about time I took off my kid gloves and replaced them with a pair of gortex gloves. Oh, and a shovel.
But see–and maybe because, admittedly, I’ve never done it at all before and therefore haven’t had the chance to grow sick and tired of it–I actually quite enjoyed it.
But I’m thinking that had something more to do with the company I kept while shoveling–
the snow didn't stand a chance.
rather than the actual act of shoveling itself.
And aren’t we adorable, all bundled up, daring the cold to even try it with us? There’s Christian, there’s my brother Jonathan, and of course, I’m the one who’s a girl. And I only had to be told once to not dump the snow into the spot that we needed to shovel once we were finished with this one. After I had done it a couple times, of course, proving to Christian that it was no longer just a one time mistake on my part.
Oh.
Good point.
Forgive me; I’m a nube.
But a nube with a unique perspective. One that seemingly colors everything right now. Even as I was shoveling snow, I was thinking about it.
You know, the encompassing it. And it’s funny, there are a couple different ways people can ask me how I’m doing. Like this weekend, I was snowed in with some wonderful friends and family and a lot of the hours were spent in jolly good times with kids that know nothing else. But then there’d be a lull, the kids would be somewhere else, and someone would ask me, How are you doing? and they’d say it with the kind of inflection that let me know that they were thinking about it and it was okay for me to think about it too. Aloud, if I want.
Cause it’s always there.
Which makes me think of something else. That scene from Harry Potter with slightly batty Luna Lovegood, discussing why both she and Harry can see the creatures who pull their carriages, while others cannot:
And I thought about how the price feels too high to be in such a club. And how yes, you end up seeing more than you ever thought you would, but maybe you become a bit of a loon in the process. Maybe you’re at a party and you look around and everybody seems happy and normal and wow, their life looks generally good, and here you are blinking because while everybody else is looking at the tv, you can’t stop seeing the Thestrals.
And if you could be writing songs all of the time, you think you would be just fine with that. And actually, if you could choose, maybe you’d become a musical note anyway. You’d just make your little sound, hit it like a hammer whenever you’re needed, and there’s no confusion in that. There’s only a great big, deep breath of fulfillment in that.
And you’d be an E, you think. And depending on your mood, you’d either hang out with your minor friends or you’d hang out with your major friends but either way, you’d still be an E. You’d still be you; no guessing in that, snuggled right between a D# and an F natural, right where you belong.
And maybe the Thestrals wouldn’t bother you so much anyway, cause remember? You’re just an E. You just keep doing your thing, striking your note, and let it all happen around you.
Oh, but you’re not an E. You’re a complicated person who wakes up surprised all over again at the landscape around you. And you’re feeling crazy because you still want to write love songs, despite it. And yes, you might have a stronger urge than ever before to throw in an occasional curse word into the song, but you’d still like to write about love and wow, you still believe in it.
Thestrals and all, you still believe in it.
