My very own “Pretty Woman” scene

You know the iconic shopping scene in “Pretty Woman”, where Julia Roberts tries on loads of fabulous outfits, and it just plain looks like a photo shoot?  Right, well, if you don’t, I suggest you get on that cultural tidbit, because it’s fabulous.  Anyway, so I remember a Cameron Diaz film having a sort of spoof on the scene, and, though I was somewhat unimpressed by the scene, I noticed a sense of something nigh to jealousy… envy with a little something more.  I want to do what they were doing.  I want to have my own BFF fake photo shoot at the clothing store, trying on amazing outfits, my subconscious cried.

And I’ve always remembered that, though I’ve never remember to do anything about the silent wish I’d had that day.  Tonight, as I was thinking of this one particular store where my family has shopped occasionally for most of my life, – it’s a discount outlet-type high-end clothing etc. store – I recalled a particular jacket that my cousin and I loved.  And then I remembered how we had both put one on in the store, and taken photos together. And then, like a rush of memory, I recalled a whoosh of different pieces we all had tried on together, and the loads of photos we took.  We had done our own “Pretty Woman” clothing store photo shoot, and I hadn’t even noticed.  Why?  Because we were just being ourselves.  We were attempting to recreate something we’d seen elsewhere.  We were just doing our own thing, being silly and fancy with high-end discount clothing etc. and having a wonderful time.

How cool is that?  I had hoped one day to copy the scene in my real life, but knew that it would be always that: a copy.  Instead, I got the real deal, and we had an actual spontaneous in-shop clothing photo shoot together.  Wicked.  I love life.  And family.  Especially family.

Post-a-day 2017

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Missing…

I miss my bed in Japan. My bedroom, especially, is one thing I miss most these days. It was a haven for me. No matter what kind of chaos or boredom lurked in my life, every night, my bedroom awaited me in calm, open, and empty space… in beauty. I shut my doors, and was safe in my retreat from everything else. Only love and blessings were ever allowed into my bedroom. I wasn’t even allowed to walk in it if I hadn’t recently showered. Clean clothes, my ukulele and ukulele music, my nighttime books, and water and tissues were just about all that ever went in there, aside from a clean me and my bed.

My bedroom now is slightly larger, but filled with boxes and stuff… a sentimentality to which I am not so sure I still want to cling. I think I am afraid that I will forget the memories, if I get rid of the objects. I do not, for the most part, want the objects, but the memories and the ways I felt. Without the objects, what will remind me?

Post-a-day 2017

My life/books

I sometimes worry that I read to escape my life.  This is not to say that I find a need to escape my life, but merely that I grow a sort of addiction to a good book, because the story within the book is so much better than my own.  I long for the life I see in the story, and so throw myself into it as much and as often as possible… thereby stepping away from my own life for a good chunk of time, temporary though it is.

Unlike Kathleen Kelly in “You’ve Got Mail”, I do not find interesting things happening in books versus in my own life – I do find myself doing amazing and interesting things that I almost never have read in books.  However, similar to her, I long for something that I find in these books.  I long for the outside influences of people who love one another – I want to be loved like true love in a story.  I have faith in myself for a successful, beautiful story of accomplishments… I am not so sure about others taking up their roles within my own story…  Perhaps this isn’t really making sense… I’ll retire for the night.  I’m stilted, putting these inward emotions into outward words, and I’m not liking the result so far.  Hmm…

Post-a-day 2017

Oh, to be a lion…

I love “The Lion King”.  And I mean this not as the average, casual use of the word love.  I mean it in a deep down, somewhere inside of me is pulled by it kind of love.  Toward my core, that is why my love for “The Lion King” resides.  And it draws me.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be part of that circle of life, as presented in “The Lion King”.  Certainly, I want to be a living part of it, but I want to be over there, actually in it, as opposed to over here, living in the regular world full of buildings and suits and such.  I want to live with the lions in Africa.  I want to be one of them, an honorary member, so to speak.  Sure, our diets don’t exactly line up with one another, but that would be part of the beautiful balance of it all.  I would love them, they would love me, and no one would be stealing anyone else’s food.  Perfect.

Anyway, I realize how silly or odd this might sound.  I get it.  That in no way changes the desire I have to be part of whatever that magical world is that is presented in “The Lion King”, both the film and the stage musical.  Perhaps it is that beautiful balance of power and majesty, combined with belonging, love, purpose, and community.  Whatever the case, I have daydreamt of being with the lions for decades, and am still working on how to make something like that happen.

Roar.

Post-a-day 2017

Family and music

I love my family.  And I miss getting to spend time with them.  I had somewhat forgotten the existence of one of my cousins, because I hadn’t actually seen him in so long.  I knew he existed, of course, but it was as though I had accepted that it wasn’t ever an option to see him.  And so, it was a wonderful surprise – though I knew in my head that he would be here ahead of time – actually seeing him and spending time with him tonight.

One of the things I love about spending time with him is his musical gift.  He can be given any instrument, and, whether he has ever played it before or not, can be playing lovely music on it within a maximum of a few minutes.  We always end up humming and whistling and singing beautiful music together, whether we have an instrument or not (though we often have at least a guitar).

Tonight was no different.  He pulled out one of my favorite songs, and early on in the visit.  Oddly enough, I hadn’t listened to or sung/played the song in years, and so it was a fun surprise.  I had to look up the words, because it had been so long, but it was too good of a song not to get all the words right (“White Man” by Michael Gungor Band).

As he fiddled around on the guitar, my mom and I sat with him on the porch, listening to him play, and working on our puzzle/mystery boxes we were creating for his brother’s wedding reception this weekend.  The kind of music he was playing reminded me of why I ever wanted to learn to play guitar in the first place.  I want to play John Denver and Jim Croce music, and other things similar in style.  It has always been my long-term, distant future goal, since it really isn’t the easiest music, but there are plenty of things I can learn as stepping stones (and I have learned a good bit of them).  I just don’t play when I don’t have the company of someone else’s music.  

When I am with my cousin, we almost always take the time to sit down and teach me something new and, of course, beautiful to play.  Now that we are back living in the same country, we might actually be able to set up semi-regular music meet-ups for the two of us.  We’ll see.

Gosh, I love my cousin.

Post-a-day 2017

Sometimes…

Sometimes, things fall apart, free from control or attempts to do anything else with them.

Sometimes, things come together, free from control or attempts to do anything else with them.

And sometimes, the difference between the former and the latter is that action was desperate and limited in the former, but honest and free in the latter.

Life sure is beautiful, ain’t it? 😉

Post-a-day 2017

Mr. Right

I’ve been thinking tonight about my Prince Charming, my personal one, my desired future.  It all started with thinking about musical theater as I showered.  As most shower stream-thoughts go, I ended up on a very loosely connected tangent.  Do you know the song by Chris August called “Stranger”?  It’s a beautiful song, and I fell in love with it several years ago.  A lot happened related to that song, but let’s not go there now.  While some specific lyrics rolled through my head over and over again, as song lyrics so often do, something struck me.

I dreamed you.  
Now, I’ve found you.  
Call off the search, 
’cause I found my stranger.

Those were the specifically inspiring words tonight.  Though I have listened to the song more times than I know, and I know every word still, despite having stopped listening to it years ago (for reasons I won’t mention just yet), I have never had the thought that followed those words as they repeated in my head tonight.

“I have never dreamt you.”

Though I have wished and wished, and even hoped and prayed and asked for my partner in life, I have never dreamed him up.  I have begun ideas before, but I have never come up with what my partner in life actually is.  You could ask me now, and I would have no idea what to tell you about the partner I want.  Sure, there are plenty of things I know that I don’t want, but everything else seems to change with how I feel each day, each time someone asks me about it.

Now, I don’t exactly see this as a bad thing.  I just happened to realize that I have never dreamed him up.  So, I can never have Chris August’s song become a reality for me – I can’t find my stranger.  I don’t even have a vision in my head of what it looks like being with someone.  Every time I have dreams where there seems to be a sort of partnership, I always seem to be the one taking care of someone else – the traditionally male role.  Or, perhaps it is the mother role I play.  I already seem to do that all over the place in life.  It’s the reason I have always wondered if I can ever find someone to take care of me.  But I digress…

I realized in the shower that I have no image of a person.  I don’t know if I’m looking for someone tall, dark, and handsome.  I don’t know if he is foreign or domestic made.  I don’t even know what kind of skin he has.  Again, I don’t necessarily see this as bad.  I am just noticing it.  I also notice how so many others seem to have dreamed up their partners years before they even have begun dating others.  I mean, they seem to know what they want.  By having that idea of what they want, they are able to seek it out.  Sometimes, when they find it, they realize they didn’t want it after all.  And sometimes they find something better along the way.  But they have something to pursue.  I don’t even have an idea to seek out, a type of someone or something to pursue.  Perhaps that is an issue with being so open to the world and to new ideas, and for knowing that what I see or think isn’t always the best that the universe has to offer.

Post-a-day 2017