7:20 p.m. | 2003-12-09
Another Good Day To Follow
Word of the Day for Tuesday December 9, 2003
plangent PLAN-juhnt, adjective:
1. Beating with a loud or deep sound, as, "the plangent wave."
2. Expressing sadness; plaintive.
Your eyes
As we said our goodbyes
Can't get them out of my mind
And I find I can't hide
From your eyes
The ones that took me by surprise
The night you came into my life
Where there's moonlight I see your eyes
How'd I let you slip away
When I'm longing so to hold you
Now I'd die for one more day
'Cause there's something I should have told you
Yes there's something I should have told you
When I looked into your eyes
Why does distance make us wise?
You were the song all along
And before this song dies
I should tell you I should tell you
I have always loved you
You can see it in my eyes
God I'm just in such a good mood. I don't know why, I just...fricken am. And this whole lyric thing, it's only because yesterday I was listening to my music (which I had just re-sorted and named 'cause I'm miss OCD) I heard that song, and I loved it. I never realized how good it was, I just liked it.
Today it as on Ian's away message. And I loved Rent anyway, I mean I really do love it. I got to see it when I was in like 8th grade and that was before it was really big among kids my age. I was on top of the scene for once, not running right behind it. None the less, I love it. Plus, my dad was Benoit (pronounced Ben-wa) in La Boheme which is of course what Rent is all about.
None the less, I like the lyrics, and I remembered the song, and it makes me think. So, I put it in! Ha, it's my decision not yours. Anyway...onto the important things. In general school was good today, got all those presentation things out of the way, but here's how the schedule looks for the next week or so:
Tuesday 12/16/2003:
European History Final Paper (10 pages) due
Wednesday 12/17/2003:
Music Of The USA Final
Music Of The USA Paper
Not too bad, eh? Then I leave for my grandmother's on the 19th (possibly sooner, who knows). I have plenty to get done while there, generally for her. She needs new siding on one side, she needs her bathroom to be caulked and painted and have some basic appliances re-installed. And the wallpaper in her bedroom is coming off, so I'm going to remove that and clean it and then paint it. Plus the boys wanted a new paint project in their room, so I was thinking I'd gather the cousins for an afternoon, paint the room a light base color and have Mathew finger paint something (hell the kid's 5 and he ain't no Michelangelo, but he's got talent!).
But basically that stuff. Plus...they're cutting firewood the weekend I get in. Which is something cool that needs to be explained. In my family--no matter HOW much they're upset at each other, every year we have the firewood party. And at 6 in the morning, all of the boys (and now me, since I'm strong and the oldest of the cousins) we all get up and quietly get coffee, drink one ceremonial cup (no words exchanged) and then go outside. It's cold as hell of course, but that's not that bad. So we go outside and the big guys start marking trees with spray paint, another crew goes and takes them down one by one (so as to "thin" the forest, not obliterate). After they drag them out another person cuts them, and then I and some of the other newer workers pick up the logs and drag them first to Grandma's woodpile and second to the main woodpile so as to stock up for the rest of the winter.
What's amazing is that there's not a single word said. Literally, since I woke up--nothing has been said. Finally around 9 one of the guys grunts, and they indicate that work is on pause, where we break, and at some point he starts singing the bass line to a christmas song. It's evolved over the years, but the entire time I've been involved it's always been "Hark The Herald Angels Sing." So we all join in and go right back to work, singing as loud as we can. It's generally my uncle in control of everything, he's the one who sings, and my family has a strange affinity for singing. I mean, I guess I'm not that good, but we still sound pretty good. So for another few hours we'll switch from song to song, every once and a while someone will make eye contact with my uncle and start another song, he'll approve by singing along and we'll smile and cut logs.
Now, I don't love my family's ways some days, but this tradition in my eyes is beautiful. I think that's part of the reason I like christmas and especially christmas charols. I mean, I don't like the spirit, or the way the women get over the food, but ever since I was 16 and out with my uncle cutting...it's been so cool. We generally finish right about 2 and all come into the house, numb from the snow that we've been standing on for hours. We eventually get a little warmed up and as we sit around the dinner table and are fed we all look at each other, speaking in a true fashion for the first time. Someone up high will say something, and we'll start talking. Anyone. Anything. It's all allowed. But you never talk about what happened outside. That stays outside.
I guess I just think it's pretty, that's all. And maybe I'm insane. But for a family that has always fought--that's beautiful. I don't know. I'm beginning to think I'm insane. And now ashamed that I said all that stuff...ugh...I feel silly. Oh well, c'est la vie.
Signing Off--Lauren
