Imagine...can I?

i·mag·i·na·tion (ĭ-măj′ə-nā shən)
 n.

1.
 a. The formation of a mental image of something that is neither perceived as real nor present to the senses.
 b. The mental image so formed.
 c. The ability or tendency to form such images.

2. The ability to confront and deal with reality by using the creative power of the mind; resourcefulness: handled the problems with great imagination.

3. A traditional or widely held belief or opinion.

4. Archaic
a. An unrealistic idea or notion; a fancy.
b. A plan or scheme.

Definition from The American Heritage Dictionary.

A Google search of "imagination" landed me several Einstein quotes and Brennan's Hierarchy of Imagination:

"Constrained by reality. . ." These days I feel confined to problem solving. On the occaisional good day creativity will come into play a little bit, and I will put together another page in the journal/scrap/picture book my boyfriend and I are making.  The majority of my personal journal entries are written for the purpose of figuring myself out: problem solving. Where is the imagination of the novelist? The one who liked to write about dragons and magical books and quests? *queue sad violin music*

I think when I was packing for college a year and a half ago, I shrink wrapped my imagination to preserve it. But it has gone stale from disuse. *full force sad violin music*

So here's to the day, this day, in which I pull my imagination out of the Play Doh canister and squish it up and make it warm again. This is my quest "to confront and deal with reality by using the creative power of the mind," to regain the power to mentally form that which is "neither perceived as real nor present to the senses." *epic hero music*

Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. ~ Albert Einstein

More books. PLEASE

So, it's Christmas break and I have nothing that I simply must do, no deadlines, work or what-not. I spend partial days texting a friend of mine, to whom I have loaned my copy of Ender's Game, and we mourn the books we probably won't get to read before the spring 2014 semester comes along and eats our reading time for breakfast. I have stopped New Year's resolution-ing because it's a resolution a week with me, so I am not going to make a goal this year of reading more while I am at school. But if that were my goal, these are the books I would read:

Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. I read The Screwtape Letters during spring break, and ever since I have been hungry for more of Lewis's work.

Ender's Shadow by Orson Scott Card. I actually did manage to read Ender's Game this past fall semester. It was my first sci-fi, and it had me in tears on occaision. My boyfriend tells me this sequel is really good, and he is going to loan it to me (oh, the many perks of dating a nerdy English major).

Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom.  Aforementioned friend / partner-in-mourning-the-books-we-don't-have-time-to-read recommeded this one to me.

Those are the titles that have been tapping me on the shoulder lately, whispering "read me! you're already so far behind!" I get depressed sometimes, when I think of all the books I still will not have read by the time I die.

Most recently I have been reading some of the Sherlock Holmes novels (and by "some" I mean A Study in Scarlet and The Hound of the Baskervilles). A couple nights ago, I watched the BBC show Sherlock with my boyfriend and his family, and I believe I may have found my new show.

So here I cut the blog time, and give the rest of this cold Monday to reading. Sign of the Four, here I come.

Tidbits from Ireland

My traveling career started this past summer in Ireland, a three week trip of drawing, writing, and exploring.  For my 19th birthday, as an early gift for traveling, my parents bought a Samsung WB250F digital camera.  I had a great time experimenting with it in Ireland.  Here a few favorites, all taken in Belfast:

Some graffitti that caught my eye.

I walked by this place several times, each time telling myself I needed to take a picture of it.  Once the bicycle was there, I finally stopped and photographed.

I'm not really a dog person, but I wanted this husky wolf, just chilling under an arch in Belfast.

While I was in Dublin, I was able to meet some of my relatives, so returning to that gorgeous country is a high possibility that I am setting my sights on.

My professors for the trip have yet to return the sketchbook that was my coursework for the trip, but when I get it back, I will try to post some of that material as well.

Slainte, and DBF Out!

Demigods, scholarships, and other fun stuff

Semester one is behind me (shining brightly with a big B+ in Calculus!), and I am home catching up on doing nothing.  Today I finished reading The Mark of Athena, book three in the Heroes of Olympus series.  Oh Riordan, you never fail to leave me hanging.  From a rocky ledge.  Above the pit of Tartarus.  So I find myself once again greatly anticipating the release of yet another book and wishing to goodness I could find myself a Percy Jackson.

I was so inspired by this novel that I decided to go on an epic quest of my own: follow the mark of financial aid, that you may venture into yon fair green lands.  Basically I just looked for scholarships and grants to help me study abroad in Ireland next summer.  I'm excited, to say the least.  About traveling, not scholarships and grants.  I have high hopes of catching a leprechaun.

Speaking of mythical creatures...The Hobbit.  An Unexpected Journey was such a beautiful thing!  It was the first time I'd ever gone to a midnight premier, and I had a great time with some of my college buds and spent way too much money on popcorn and Sprite.  The film was spectacular.  The "Riddles in the Dark" scene is indeed a great moment in the history of cinema.  Oh, and the eagles!  Simply magnificent; they deserved more screen time.  It had all the fun, danger, quirks, and thrill of an original adventure, and I expect an equally if not more fantastic follow up in The Desolation of Smaug next year.

Do any of you readers like One Direction?  When I first heard the song "What Makes You Beautiful," I thought they sounded fun - and hey, they're British! - but then I listened to the rest of their album on itunes and grew disinterested.  But that didn't stop me from making the mistake of telling my little sisters about them.  And now all I hear about when I come home is Harry, Liam, Niall, Louis, and Zayn, and more Harry.  (see how bad it is?  I know their names! >_< )  The other night, my iPod lost its 1D virginity.  I'm not really a boy band type of person, and their lyrics aren't much, but it's fun music when you're in a playful mood.  And after all, they are from England...

Also, I am knitting a scarf.  A fat scarf.  A pretty scarf.  The end.

DBF Out!

in the coffee shop

That is the state of being I have reached on this evening following a lovely November Saturday afternoon.  I have my messenger bag dotted with pins next to me, an empty frappe cup and chocolate crumb covered plate on the table in front of me, Death Cab for Cutie is playing through my leopard print headphones, and my hair is a big bed-head mess.  I have been home-working all day, and so I have set aside for the moment my lit class Conjure Stories project to write a long over-due blog post.

I'm not going to even try covering all the blog-worthy occurences during my absence.  I will say though, that life at this college has been pretty much just right for me.  I have found lots of fellow Lord of the Rings nerds, but not many, if any, Narniacs.  I still think about my DBFs quite a lot, and if you guys could be here with me I think I should explode from so much awesome around me in one place.

Last night my friend Bethany and I went to a contra dance together.  I played with the band, danced a few dances, and ate food.  It was a beautiful thing, the sort of thing Friday nights are made for.

I know the new year is still a while away, but I can't help but reflect on this year now that it's getting late.  2012: Caroline's year of firsts.  First official job.  First year of college.  First dance.  First cell phone.  First kiss.  First time voting.  First driver's liscense.  And I feel fine.  Still doing the things I love, and learning more about them.  Still very much crazy clueless me.

Here is a little snippet of a song that came to me in the shower last night at 1:30 a.m.  Rhythm and melody are still ambiguous, but I really want to go somewhere with "For the Time Being":

What kills the most,

And what haunts like a ghost

Is that it was not supposed

To feel this way.

Took the shortcut out.

Turned out to be the long road home.

And if home is where the heart is,

Well it’s lost.

But as the doors swing open and shut,

A clever thought begins to think.

Think at last the dusky past

Should lay to sleep.

On va voir (we'll see).  French 101 has been my best class this semester; j'aime parler francais.  Anyway, we'll see what this song turns in to.  Perhaps it will be worth recording and posting at some point.  Heck, maybe even a music video.  That would be fun.  I need to do that sometime...

But for now, I leave you with all this posted life stuff to dwell on until I write again (because all of said "posted life stuff" is so very important in the vast scheme of things *sarcasm*).  Au revoir!

DBF Out!

I have officially (but not unofficially) graduated high school...

On the 21st of this month, I will have been a high school graduate for one whole month.  (I will also be at college orientation).  During this time of supposed freedom, I have been trying to finish high school whilst working and being in a play and writing thank you notes.  That's right; I've got the diploma, but the burden of unfinished textbooks is still there.  But I'm a fighter, and freedom is not free.

Speaking of graduations, I would like to congratulate my DBF Megan Pevensie, for completing the homeschool years as well (I don't stalk, it just showed up in my news feed ;P).  My words of encouragement and advice to you: may Aslan and the force be with you, check every wardrobe just in case, never simply walk into Mordor, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

So, I now have one of those iPod dock/alarm clock things, and I love it.  The other day, just to be ironic, I set my alarm song to "Don't Wake Me Up" by The Hush Sound.  It woke me up.  It is amazing how much easier it is to slip out of dreams slowly and to music, rather than being jolted awake by a screaming time machine.

Last night, after the play was over, I went home and got a bowl of cereal and some chocolate, climbed into bed, and watched Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.  Freaking.  Love.  And that soundtrack is one of the best things in my ears' life.  On IMDB, the third is "in development."  2014, it says.  Heck yeah.

And if any of you reading this post have never listened to the band "Capital Lights," you need to go check them out.  "Night of Your Life," "Let the Little Lady Talk," and "Out of Control" are some of their really good tracks.

Tonight is the closing night of Outlander, in which I am an extra, which means that I'll be at the playhouse extra late with all the other cast members to strike the set.   This is my last show this year (I wasn't cast in Big River :( ), but I'm an apprentice, so their are theater days ahead for me yet.

I miss mah deebs (erm, DBFs), and I hope you all are having a lovely summer.

Help me name this poem!!!

I have had this thing written in this, it's final, complete form (which is really saying something for me) for two months now, and I still have not named it!  If you have the time, I'd love for you guys to read it and give me some title ideas.

Part I

The bright yellow swing on the swing set

moves on its own as if

an invisible person is swinging gently upon it.

"Just the wind," I scold myself, and yet,

it seems as though it is teasing me,

playfully beckoning, "Come out!"

But I remain behind the window, behind

my self-made wall. Duty of the self-educated.

Words and worries, sums and stories,

Tick-tock, tick-tock allegory.

Books are closed, I may play.

Placid treetops, wind has died.

Yet yellow swing still sways. "Come out!"

To swing or not to swing,

To breathe and remember the sound of my heart beat.

My fingers drum against the window, dull

dum ba dum ba dum

And I forsake her, thoughtful friend,

for I have growing up to do, you know;

the words and worries, sums and stories.

Tick-tock, tick-tock allegory.

Part II

Clouds like the stretched out cotton balls

that wiped away the princess pink from my little nails.

My imaginary friend must be aging, getting

feeble, for the faded yellow swing creaks

back and forth, inch by shrinking inch.

I taste the tingly promise of the changing seasons,

the words and worries, the sums and stories.

Tick-tock, tick-tock allegory.

But today, today with all the chores and changing

schedules in a fickle whirlwind, with all

the promises I've made myself...

What should I wish to do but swing?

Yes I am ready... but it is gone.

A ghost dances about me elusively. A single

wilted daisy, her forlorn grave marker.

My fingertips kiss the petal strings.

Slight silver crescent of a moon like

a sharp fingernail clipping...

sweet dream escapes are all drowned out

by the words and worries, sums and stories.

Cruel tick-tock, tick-tock allegory.

Part III

Reminiscing pulse. I take

my place on yellow swing once more.

But I'm too solid, she too faint. Her eyes

so sad yet accusing, bore into mine.

"You are gone."

Her voice, like nails on a chalkboard,

chills me. "But I am here!" I protest.

She shakes her head, more and more

dark and distant. "Here

but not returned, you're not.

You'll never be back again."

I wake from my reverie, reality dawning cold.

It's frightening for one so young as I

to be so young no more.

Yet a subtle knowing all along.

Shifting battlegrounds on the

inescapable outcome. I took too easily;

the words and worries, the sums and stories.

Tick-tock, tick-tock allegory.

Part IV

In a haze of sweet honesty, my eyes

like my mother's take in the fresh world.

Mud pies baking in their sun-rock oven, fish dinner

of pinecones roasting on a spit, stick-fashioned

weapons, pole and tarpaulin fort; breathing with

a pure belonging life all their own.

"Hold on." Mother's whisper tickles my ear.

My fingernails imprint my hands around

the ropes of the bright yellow swing.

I sail towards blue, laughing pure laughter.

And the pendulum motion begins.

Oh, and Happy Mum's Day! (;