Many of you may have figured this out, but I'm taking an indefinite break from blogging. I'm a tiny bit apologetic about this decision, but mostly just hopeful and incredibly driven about putting all of my energy and soul into writing music. I'm learning that this involves more sacrifice than I expected, but my drivenness and commitment are unwavering, finally. Now everything I build will be made to support the house where our creativity can thrive. Every decision we make will make the space ready where the music will be born. Shopping and cooking and television and looking at websites -- they don't matter. They amount to absolutley nothing. So, now. We'll make our own personal blend of cushions, candles and time, and drink it in gulps to go deeply into ourselves. There's nothing to be afraid of. There is an unknown need around us for what's been sprouting and flourishing there. This is not pride talking. It is courage, and it is faith.
Stay tuned. We've so much to share...
1.13.2007
11.27.2006
where did i put my mittens?
It's true that we Santa Barbarans don't get much in terms of changing seasons, but I swear that when I stepped outside the day after Thanksgiving, there was something different in the air. And it was more than just the subtly cooler temperature. The breeze that rushed past me held some old familiar wintery aroma. I inhaled and was back in the driveway of my childhood home, scraping the frost off of my windshield with the case of an old cassette tape. There's nothing like the Christmas season to make me nostalgic.
I unravelled my Christmas memories with a mess of stringed lights yesterday afternoon. Those snowy Saturday afternoons when my sisters and I pulled our old ornaments out of their boxes were some of the dearest times in my early years. I could go on all day retelling those old stories, but I won't. It would probably bore you. For the first few years after moving out West, I wouldn't allow Christmas to enter our home. I needed to take a stand against the commercialism and materialism that the holiday is so tangled up with. But something changed in the past couple of years, and I've cracked the back door open and quietly invited it back in -- the red and green and tinsle and gingerbread and any holiday accessory that really does make my heart jump if I stand there for a while and really look at it well.
It's nearly winter down here, and the old heaters are putting some warmth in the rooms. The cat's taken a liking to sleeping in our bed again, and we're playing Christmas songs in the far room where we can look out onto the street spotted with the holiday lights of our neighbors'. I even hear that the mountains we see from our living room are likely to have snow on them before the year is out.
11.12.2006
just another night in the neighborhood
Last night we decided to walk downtown, get some coffee, and maybe grab a quick dinner before heading back home to continue working on a little recording project we've been experimenting with. While we were waiting for our food, Jon noticed a poster advertising a concert at a little theatre down the street. He told me who it was. "Ray Lamontagne. . . ," I thought, "haven't I heard that name somewhere? Yes! I just read an article about him in Paste Magazine!" We started talking about how much fun it would be to go over and see if there were tickets, not really expecting it to work out. We came to the conclusion that if it was meant to be, there would be tickets when we got to the theatre. Two seats were waiting for us when we arrived. We snatched them up and waited for the doors to open.
David Ford was first on stage, and was the most compelling opener we can remember seeing in a long time. He looped his voice, piano and guitar parts, and some suitcase-pounding percussion to fill out his one-man show. I've been working on writing lyrics lately and have struggled with trying to make every single line beautiful and somewhat complex. David's songs told me that it isn't lyrics alone that will make our songs good. It's the way the music, the lyrics and our presence all work together to create an experience for listeners. It was a welcomed message from something outside of myself, and I tucked it into a place in my memory where I'd be able to take it out and read it frequently
During the intermission, Jon got up for a moment. The next thing I knew, he had dropped into the seat next to me and whispered into my ear, "LOOK BEHIND YOU." I made a half-assed attempt at being nonchalant about turning my head to look, and hopefully had no visible reaction when I saw this guy:
The music began again. Ray's calming music and whispery voice put me in a state of stillness I usually only find when I have spent an entire day relaxing. A couple of songs later, he started to open up his voice and really let it loose. Damn! This man had a vocal depth and power that completley knocked me over. In between songs, we started hearing a very drunk audience member in the aisle just to our right making his requests known to Ray. "EVERY TIME!" he shouted. I suppose that's the name of a song he wanted to hear. Jon had a better view of him than I did, and leaned over to inform me, "He's taking off his shoes now. oh.. . and socks." When I finally looked over, he also had his shirt off. I quickly looked away, not wanting this inebriated man to ruin my experience. But out of the corner of my eye, I could not help but notice the form of this shirtless man dancing in a very oompa-loompa sort of way, and I started to laugh. And Jon started to laugh. And Ted Danson started to laugh. Mr. Shirtless, who was sporting a lovely pair of suspenders over his flat chest, was swinging his arms around in a circle as fast as he could, and none of us could STOP LAUGHING.
The show was good, we walked home and went to bed. Yep, just another uneventful night in our neighborhood.
David Ford was first on stage, and was the most compelling opener we can remember seeing in a long time. He looped his voice, piano and guitar parts, and some suitcase-pounding percussion to fill out his one-man show. I've been working on writing lyrics lately and have struggled with trying to make every single line beautiful and somewhat complex. David's songs told me that it isn't lyrics alone that will make our songs good. It's the way the music, the lyrics and our presence all work together to create an experience for listeners. It was a welcomed message from something outside of myself, and I tucked it into a place in my memory where I'd be able to take it out and read it frequently
During the intermission, Jon got up for a moment. The next thing I knew, he had dropped into the seat next to me and whispered into my ear, "LOOK BEHIND YOU." I made a half-assed attempt at being nonchalant about turning my head to look, and hopefully had no visible reaction when I saw this guy:
The music began again. Ray's calming music and whispery voice put me in a state of stillness I usually only find when I have spent an entire day relaxing. A couple of songs later, he started to open up his voice and really let it loose. Damn! This man had a vocal depth and power that completley knocked me over. In between songs, we started hearing a very drunk audience member in the aisle just to our right making his requests known to Ray. "EVERY TIME!" he shouted. I suppose that's the name of a song he wanted to hear. Jon had a better view of him than I did, and leaned over to inform me, "He's taking off his shoes now. oh.. . and socks." When I finally looked over, he also had his shirt off. I quickly looked away, not wanting this inebriated man to ruin my experience. But out of the corner of my eye, I could not help but notice the form of this shirtless man dancing in a very oompa-loompa sort of way, and I started to laugh. And Jon started to laugh. And Ted Danson started to laugh. Mr. Shirtless, who was sporting a lovely pair of suspenders over his flat chest, was swinging his arms around in a circle as fast as he could, and none of us could STOP LAUGHING.
The show was good, we walked home and went to bed. Yep, just another uneventful night in our neighborhood.
11.07.2006
the sun's coming up
These changes came softly. For the first week or so I was too busy to notice, my head down, intently sorting through boxes, streets and cupboards. But when I got still and looked around, all I saw was beauty I'd never really known before. When I walked through town, all I found were calm, contented people, quick to offer ideas and a warm welcome. When I headed a mile or so South, all I saw was ocean, ocean, ocean. And I heard myself thinking, "No way is this my home. it's just too good."
The shape of my days is so vastly different than it ever has been. I arrive at work when my feet have taken me there, and I'm free to make my own schedule. This job involves quite a bit of responsibility, and it's the first time I've worked a full 40-hour week in a few years, but I've never had so little stress at work. It must have something to do with my confidence in myself, my boss' confidence in me, and the fact that I am surrounded by therapists all day. Before we left the Bay Area, I kept thinking how nice it would be to at least have a counselor-type of person in my life. Now I have 25 of them.
In the evenings Jon and I eat dinner sitting in our built-in booth, then usually we walk downtown to get some tea, do a little shopping, or just enjoy what the night lighting does to the local scenery. We run into people we know nearly every day, which really makes this place feel like a small town. Actually, it is. The population in this city is slightly less than in South Bend, Indiana. But in many ways, it feels like we live in a big city. Somehow we've landed somewhere with the best of both worlds. If the price of housing wasn't so high, I'd say I'd never leave.
I'm thinking about adding a "visitor calendar" to my blog. I want to share my new surroundings with all of you friends and family members, not to make you jealous, but because beauty does good things to people, and there's quite an abundance of it here. I'm trying to digest the fact that this IS my home now. I guess sometimes we get a whole lot more than what we ask for.
9.25.2006
pinching myself
Before things get too crazy, I thought I should sit down and lay down a record of the developments that have occurred so far with our move to Santa Barbara. If I don't do it now, I probably won't do it for another month So even though it's difficult to gather my thoughts sitting in the disarray that has taken over our house, I will attempt to relay what has happened over the past few days.
Just before we left for our house-hunting weekend on Friday, I received a call from the director of a non-profit counseling center where I had applied for an office manager position a few days earlier. He asked if he might take 30 minutes of my weekend to try to get a feel for who I was, since he was mainly looking for someone with the right personality for the job. I agreed and quickly packed some halfway presentable clothes for our meeting.
Saturday morning, we grabbed our messy handwritten list of properties to check out, stopped at a local bakery, and began our hunt for a new place to call home. After sitting in a property management company's lobby for half an hour just to find out that the properties we were interested in were either not viewable or already rented, we were excited to go take a look at an apartment close to downtown that was being rented out by a local guy named Mark. At first glance, this place already started to make us smile. It's in a 4-plex that was built in 1925, has all hardwood floors (except for the cool, vintage black & white tiles in the kitchen and bathroom), and has loads of character. We got to talking with the landlord, a friendly, laid-back guy whose family has owned the building for 25 years, and he mentioned that we were only 3 blocks from the Santa Barbara Bowl. Jon and I both shouted, "we saw Radiohead there a few years ago!" To which Mark replied, "I was at that show too! I am crazy about Radiohead!" We took another look around the place, and decided to email our application when we returned to the hotel. We looked at a couple of other places, but none of them made our hearts get up and dance a little like that great old apartment on Anapamu (pronounced A-nuh-pum-moo).
We left our friends Josh and Sarah at the hotel to take naps (Jon and I really wear our friends out), and drove to Montecito where I was set to meet the director of the counseling center. I was warmly welcomed by him, and we had a lovely time filling each other in about ourselves and the organization. I won't go into too much detail about it, but I was thoroughly impressed by what they're doing in the community, and started to really get excited about the opportunity to work there. My interviewer asked what the address was of the apartment we wanted, and after I told him, he replied, "You know, you'll be able to walk to work. The office is 4 blocks from there." That pretty much sealed the deal for me. I wanted the job.
Sunday right before we were going to drive to the airport to come home, Mark called to offer us the apartment. We accepted it without hesitation, sped over to his house and put down our deposit. Today after the director of the counseling center checked my references, he called and offered me the job. I start a week from Tuesday. I'll help out with preparations for a big fundraising event they're having on 10/7, come back home to finish packing, move down, take about a week off, then start working again.
There's a huge park a couple of blocks from our new place. We rested there for a while on Sunday afternoon. Here's a picture of one of our new neighbors we found there.
Just before we left for our house-hunting weekend on Friday, I received a call from the director of a non-profit counseling center where I had applied for an office manager position a few days earlier. He asked if he might take 30 minutes of my weekend to try to get a feel for who I was, since he was mainly looking for someone with the right personality for the job. I agreed and quickly packed some halfway presentable clothes for our meeting.
Saturday morning, we grabbed our messy handwritten list of properties to check out, stopped at a local bakery, and began our hunt for a new place to call home. After sitting in a property management company's lobby for half an hour just to find out that the properties we were interested in were either not viewable or already rented, we were excited to go take a look at an apartment close to downtown that was being rented out by a local guy named Mark. At first glance, this place already started to make us smile. It's in a 4-plex that was built in 1925, has all hardwood floors (except for the cool, vintage black & white tiles in the kitchen and bathroom), and has loads of character. We got to talking with the landlord, a friendly, laid-back guy whose family has owned the building for 25 years, and he mentioned that we were only 3 blocks from the Santa Barbara Bowl. Jon and I both shouted, "we saw Radiohead there a few years ago!" To which Mark replied, "I was at that show too! I am crazy about Radiohead!" We took another look around the place, and decided to email our application when we returned to the hotel. We looked at a couple of other places, but none of them made our hearts get up and dance a little like that great old apartment on Anapamu (pronounced A-nuh-pum-moo).
We left our friends Josh and Sarah at the hotel to take naps (Jon and I really wear our friends out), and drove to Montecito where I was set to meet the director of the counseling center. I was warmly welcomed by him, and we had a lovely time filling each other in about ourselves and the organization. I won't go into too much detail about it, but I was thoroughly impressed by what they're doing in the community, and started to really get excited about the opportunity to work there. My interviewer asked what the address was of the apartment we wanted, and after I told him, he replied, "You know, you'll be able to walk to work. The office is 4 blocks from there." That pretty much sealed the deal for me. I wanted the job.
Sunday right before we were going to drive to the airport to come home, Mark called to offer us the apartment. We accepted it without hesitation, sped over to his house and put down our deposit. Today after the director of the counseling center checked my references, he called and offered me the job. I start a week from Tuesday. I'll help out with preparations for a big fundraising event they're having on 10/7, come back home to finish packing, move down, take about a week off, then start working again.
There's a huge park a couple of blocks from our new place. We rested there for a while on Sunday afternoon. Here's a picture of one of our new neighbors we found there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
