peripeteia |ˌperipəˈtēə; -ˈtīə|
noun formal
a sudden reversal of fortune or change in circumstances.
I found that word while definition-hopping through my dictionary application, and was reacquainted with it recently via my ancient literature class. It's beautiful, isn't it? In a single word, so much is conveyed.
I'm using it here to lead you smoothly into my announcement of...
a new blogsite! Well, truly, it's still perspicacious, but newly re-located.
You're officially invited! Come check out the new look at,
http://anniemorning.wordpress.com
Happy reading!
Love,
Annie Morning
10/1/08
6/13/08
amalgamation is fun to say.
Oh, summer.
I consider myself officially welcomed into the season. I was not greeted by any calendar date or sanctioned proclamation, but by the slow, steady sliding of life's rhythms. No longer pressed up against the deadlines of academia, and being also entirely unemployed, I find that my days are thrillingly open and brilliantly unhurried... if I take the time to enjoy them properly. It is, of course, still possible for someone like yours truly to immerse myself in accomplishments and to-do lists, even in the spaciousness of summertime. When I was telling Sam about my summer task lists, he couldn't help but assert to me the ridiculousness of putting "go to the pool" on a task list, and suggested I call it a "fun list" instead. I just don't think I would have the same sense of accomplishment in crossing things off of my "fun list." It sounds considerably less triumphant.
Anyway. The point is, it finally feels like summer, even if it is technically still spring. I think that, if nothing else, once the humidity levels begin to border on the obscene it would be nothing short of indecency to deny summertime its bragging rights. The season of "swimming feels the same as breathing" is finally here.
I'm more of an autumn kind of girl, personally.
Moving on.
I've been gathering thoughts for this entry for days now. They have been convening in the Stickies Widget on my Macbook, right below the to-do list and right above the chords to the song I've been working out. And, much like my summer tasks, they are nothing short of a cornucopia of things that might be fun to explore. I do, however, have one very important order of business, which I shall save until the end.
...which half of you just scrolled down to read. It's okay. We can still be friends.
On that note, and without further ado, I present to you...
An Amalgamation of Observations.
1. A Change of Face. Hopefully, most of you have noticed by now that we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Perhaps you've noted the drastic decrease in green, or the switch from a right-side to a left-side menu bar. Yes, it is true, Perspicacious has found her new face. I realized a few days ago that it had been over a year since the very first entry was writ, and I just felt that something needed to change. I wasn't really "going" for anything when I was thinking of changing the look, but I believe that what I ended up with is a sort of cleaner and more organized feel, and so far I'm pretty much a fan of it all. I'm open to comments and compliments, as always. Although, compliments are preferred.
2.Runner's Tan and Shin Splints. So, I have been thoroughly enjoying this new phase of my life in which I have been teaching my body how to do things I never believed it would do, such as wake up early in the AM to run. I love the feeling of accomplishment and general wellness that sort of clings to me on days when I run. For months I've been stacking up piles of good reasons why running outside is a beneficial and happy addition to my life's routines; little did I know that the opposing arguments were sneaking up behind me, waiting to pounce.
The first disenchantment occurred at a friend's pool party last weekend. Despite the intense heat of the season, this party was actually the first social event of the year which would require me to bare my upper-thighs. Now, first of all, I think it is more than a little unfair that guys get to pretty much stay mostly-clothed during swimming activites while girls are expected to strip down to nothing short of brightly colored, water resistant undergarments. But what is really downright frustrating is that to look decent in this kind of attire, you need something that only time and effort can achieve: an awesome tan.
Okay. Back to the story. So, in preparation for the event, I was forced to go through the summertime ritual of trying on all of last year's bathingsuits to see which ones still make the cut. It was in those moments, staring at my spandex-clad reflection, that I realized downside #1 to running outdoors: runner's tan. I gazed in wonder at the distinctive line running across my upper-leg, wishing that someone would invent tan-through clothing. They would be rich.
The other of my unpleasant athletic discoveries is less socially unacceptable and more, just...really painful. Shin splints. For those who don't know about or have never experienced this pain firsthand, it could be compared to someone setting the bones in your lower-legs on fire while you run. Truthfully, I don't mind it too much, but it is frustrating and it steals all the fun away. If anyone has any insight on the subject, feel free to share.
3. Reading the Dictionary. Someone once asked me where I came up with the name Perspicacious for my blog. I was like, "Well, it's a word. A really cool word." They wanted to know where I had found such a word. I thought about it for a minute before realizing that I had actually been just scanning the pages of our household dictionary one day when I stumbled upon it. I was reading the dictionary...for fun.
So, I was thinking about this today after having had a conversation with my mom about the origin of a specific word. I realized anew and afresh that I don't just love cramming words together into sentences, I really love the actual words themselves. Finding new words to use is like treasure hunting for me, and actually remembering to use them is like whipping out a really great joke at a party. It's a thrill, even if I celebrate alone. The truth is, though, that people notice when you throw down a sweet new word in casual conversation. It's like growing sunflowers in a vegetable garden; a little bit of extravagance in the midst of the functional. So, to brighten your day, here are a few that I like:
subterfuge |ˈsəbtərˌfyoōj|
[noun]
deceit used in order to achieve one's goal.
tintinnabulation |ˌtintəˌnabyəˈlā sh ən|
[noun]
a ringing or tinkling sound.
impetuous |imˈpe ch oōəs|
[adjective]
acting or done quickly and without thought or care, moving forcefully.
echoic |eˈkō-ik|
[adjective]
of or like an echo.
and, for those who were wondering...
amalgamation |əˌmalgəˈmā sh ən|
[noun]
the action, process, or result of combining or uniting
4. And finally, the big news. For those of you that did not read my last blog, this will be less exciting. If you feel so inclined, you may now take this moment to go and read the last two or three paragraphs of the entry entitled, "the good life."
Now that we are all potentially up to speed, I'd like to introduce you to...
Beth Cleary. My future roommate.
Yes, she knows we're going to be roommates...I'm not a creeper. Actually, it is a good story.
So, as I have written once before, I had been praying about getting "the right roommate" ever since I decided to move to the Oglethorpe campus. I was asking God for all of these things, having no idea if I should be trying to find someone or just sitting back to see what would happen. There had been a couple of girls from JEO scholarship weekend that seemed like friend potential, but no one that I had really talked to very much at all. Then, out of the blue and all in one singular movement, every single Oglethorpe 2012 student leapt into a Facebook frenzy. Every time I logged in I had some new friend request or message from some kid who will be a freshman at OU in the fall. In the midst of all of this, there was Beth.
She messaged me once, and our conversation took off. Ultimately, we exchanged numbers and met up at the Thursday night college ministry that happens at my church, and I couldn't have been more delighted. I left church that night spouting off all this happiness to my sister on the car ride home, talking about how maybe, just maybe...maybe this Beth girl was roommate potential. Skipping some details, basically, I started to pray that if it were the right thing then Beth would ask me to room with her. This was partly due to my not wanting to jump the gun on assuming I had found the perfect new friend, and partly because I was a little bit rejection-shy. Beth, fortunately, was more daring. Just two days short of the housing request deadline, she replied to my last message with these words,
As for the roommate situation, I am a little worried. I feel like I would be more comfortable knowing the person and not just being placed with someone, especially since the room surveys are not detailed at all. I've been praying about it too. I was actually wondering if you were planning on just going random or would be interested in possibly rooming together...
And that was that. I was so giddy, I got out of bed and announced the news to my entire house. And I've been excited ever since. I'm trying to tone it down as much as I can, really. I feel like a superabundance of enthusiasm may or may not terrify her out of believing that Annie was a good choice on the roommate front. So. I'll try and keep my cool while secretly thanking God that I know I won't be rooming with someone who hates color or eats only wheat grass or something like that. Really. Thank you, Jesus.
Is there anything else to be said?
There always is. I'll leave you with the knowledge that I have an idea for a book I want to write, a song I want to sing, and a painting I want to paint.
I wish you all the same, or whatever it is that makes you smile inside.
I consider myself officially welcomed into the season. I was not greeted by any calendar date or sanctioned proclamation, but by the slow, steady sliding of life's rhythms. No longer pressed up against the deadlines of academia, and being also entirely unemployed, I find that my days are thrillingly open and brilliantly unhurried... if I take the time to enjoy them properly. It is, of course, still possible for someone like yours truly to immerse myself in accomplishments and to-do lists, even in the spaciousness of summertime. When I was telling Sam about my summer task lists, he couldn't help but assert to me the ridiculousness of putting "go to the pool" on a task list, and suggested I call it a "fun list" instead. I just don't think I would have the same sense of accomplishment in crossing things off of my "fun list." It sounds considerably less triumphant.
Anyway. The point is, it finally feels like summer, even if it is technically still spring. I think that, if nothing else, once the humidity levels begin to border on the obscene it would be nothing short of indecency to deny summertime its bragging rights. The season of "swimming feels the same as breathing" is finally here.
I'm more of an autumn kind of girl, personally.
Moving on.
I've been gathering thoughts for this entry for days now. They have been convening in the Stickies Widget on my Macbook, right below the to-do list and right above the chords to the song I've been working out. And, much like my summer tasks, they are nothing short of a cornucopia of things that might be fun to explore. I do, however, have one very important order of business, which I shall save until the end.
...which half of you just scrolled down to read. It's okay. We can still be friends.
On that note, and without further ado, I present to you...
An Amalgamation of Observations.
1. A Change of Face. Hopefully, most of you have noticed by now that we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Perhaps you've noted the drastic decrease in green, or the switch from a right-side to a left-side menu bar. Yes, it is true, Perspicacious has found her new face. I realized a few days ago that it had been over a year since the very first entry was writ, and I just felt that something needed to change. I wasn't really "going" for anything when I was thinking of changing the look, but I believe that what I ended up with is a sort of cleaner and more organized feel, and so far I'm pretty much a fan of it all. I'm open to comments and compliments, as always. Although, compliments are preferred.
2.Runner's Tan and Shin Splints. So, I have been thoroughly enjoying this new phase of my life in which I have been teaching my body how to do things I never believed it would do, such as wake up early in the AM to run. I love the feeling of accomplishment and general wellness that sort of clings to me on days when I run. For months I've been stacking up piles of good reasons why running outside is a beneficial and happy addition to my life's routines; little did I know that the opposing arguments were sneaking up behind me, waiting to pounce.
The first disenchantment occurred at a friend's pool party last weekend. Despite the intense heat of the season, this party was actually the first social event of the year which would require me to bare my upper-thighs. Now, first of all, I think it is more than a little unfair that guys get to pretty much stay mostly-clothed during swimming activites while girls are expected to strip down to nothing short of brightly colored, water resistant undergarments. But what is really downright frustrating is that to look decent in this kind of attire, you need something that only time and effort can achieve: an awesome tan.
Okay. Back to the story. So, in preparation for the event, I was forced to go through the summertime ritual of trying on all of last year's bathingsuits to see which ones still make the cut. It was in those moments, staring at my spandex-clad reflection, that I realized downside #1 to running outdoors: runner's tan. I gazed in wonder at the distinctive line running across my upper-leg, wishing that someone would invent tan-through clothing. They would be rich.
The other of my unpleasant athletic discoveries is less socially unacceptable and more, just...really painful. Shin splints. For those who don't know about or have never experienced this pain firsthand, it could be compared to someone setting the bones in your lower-legs on fire while you run. Truthfully, I don't mind it too much, but it is frustrating and it steals all the fun away. If anyone has any insight on the subject, feel free to share.
3. Reading the Dictionary. Someone once asked me where I came up with the name Perspicacious for my blog. I was like, "Well, it's a word. A really cool word." They wanted to know where I had found such a word. I thought about it for a minute before realizing that I had actually been just scanning the pages of our household dictionary one day when I stumbled upon it. I was reading the dictionary...for fun.
So, I was thinking about this today after having had a conversation with my mom about the origin of a specific word. I realized anew and afresh that I don't just love cramming words together into sentences, I really love the actual words themselves. Finding new words to use is like treasure hunting for me, and actually remembering to use them is like whipping out a really great joke at a party. It's a thrill, even if I celebrate alone. The truth is, though, that people notice when you throw down a sweet new word in casual conversation. It's like growing sunflowers in a vegetable garden; a little bit of extravagance in the midst of the functional. So, to brighten your day, here are a few that I like:
subterfuge |ˈsəbtərˌfyoōj|
[noun]
deceit used in order to achieve one's goal.
tintinnabulation |ˌtintəˌnabyəˈlā sh ən|
[noun]
a ringing or tinkling sound.
impetuous |imˈpe ch oōəs|
[adjective]
acting or done quickly and without thought or care, moving forcefully.
echoic |eˈkō-ik|
[adjective]
of or like an echo.
and, for those who were wondering...
amalgamation |əˌmalgəˈmā sh ən|
[noun]
the action, process, or result of combining or uniting
4. And finally, the big news. For those of you that did not read my last blog, this will be less exciting. If you feel so inclined, you may now take this moment to go and read the last two or three paragraphs of the entry entitled, "the good life."
Now that we are all potentially up to speed, I'd like to introduce you to...
Beth Cleary. My future roommate.
Yes, she knows we're going to be roommates...I'm not a creeper. Actually, it is a good story.
So, as I have written once before, I had been praying about getting "the right roommate" ever since I decided to move to the Oglethorpe campus. I was asking God for all of these things, having no idea if I should be trying to find someone or just sitting back to see what would happen. There had been a couple of girls from JEO scholarship weekend that seemed like friend potential, but no one that I had really talked to very much at all. Then, out of the blue and all in one singular movement, every single Oglethorpe 2012 student leapt into a Facebook frenzy. Every time I logged in I had some new friend request or message from some kid who will be a freshman at OU in the fall. In the midst of all of this, there was Beth.
She messaged me once, and our conversation took off. Ultimately, we exchanged numbers and met up at the Thursday night college ministry that happens at my church, and I couldn't have been more delighted. I left church that night spouting off all this happiness to my sister on the car ride home, talking about how maybe, just maybe...maybe this Beth girl was roommate potential. Skipping some details, basically, I started to pray that if it were the right thing then Beth would ask me to room with her. This was partly due to my not wanting to jump the gun on assuming I had found the perfect new friend, and partly because I was a little bit rejection-shy. Beth, fortunately, was more daring. Just two days short of the housing request deadline, she replied to my last message with these words,
As for the roommate situation, I am a little worried. I feel like I would be more comfortable knowing the person and not just being placed with someone, especially since the room surveys are not detailed at all. I've been praying about it too. I was actually wondering if you were planning on just going random or would be interested in possibly rooming together...
And that was that. I was so giddy, I got out of bed and announced the news to my entire house. And I've been excited ever since. I'm trying to tone it down as much as I can, really. I feel like a superabundance of enthusiasm may or may not terrify her out of believing that Annie was a good choice on the roommate front. So. I'll try and keep my cool while secretly thanking God that I know I won't be rooming with someone who hates color or eats only wheat grass or something like that. Really. Thank you, Jesus.
Is there anything else to be said?
There always is. I'll leave you with the knowledge that I have an idea for a book I want to write, a song I want to sing, and a painting I want to paint.
I wish you all the same, or whatever it is that makes you smile inside.
6/6/08
the good life.
EDIT: How does everyone feel about the new blog face? I felt that, after a year of Perspicacious in green, it was time for something new.
Welcome to my world of whirling words.
Where to begin? I think I have just too many things that feel very important that need to be written about today. My reponse to this is to skip the fluff of introduction and the polish of transition and just leap into what's on my mind. I feel like this reponse happens often, and that it may or may not be a sensible way to organize my brain, but this is my blog and I always get good grades when I'm the professor, so let us begin.
1. The Retreat. Last weekend, I experienced something unlike anything I've done before. I was invited to go on a weekend trip with some people from the college ministry at my church. It was sort of meant to be just a gathering of people who are involved in Tribe (our community groups), Small Groups (the more intimate level study groups), and Conspire (the creative team), in order for us to be able to connect and re-focus before the Summer Semester begins. Now, probably no soul but mine will understand the impact of the pronoun in that sentence. "Us." Over the course of 24 hours spent locked up in a lakehouse with twenty-something people from this ministry, I fell in love with how at home I felt among them. They played games and ate food and there was much deep conversation over the table on the back porch, but really what captured my heart was just this indelible Something that was there. God burned in my heart so fully over the course of that weekend, I didn't even know what to do with how happy I was just to be alive. He threw open the cobwebbed corners in me and filled them with the fullness of Himself. I felt absolutely loved, absolutely at peace, so completely undone in my inside world.
2. My Family is Beautiful. The night that I came home from The Retreat, I was just sitting in the living room deep in thought. I started to feel incredibly anxious, thinking about how much I needed to get done and how I should have gone running that day and a hundred other things that felt like an anvil in my brain. Now, in order for this next part of the story to make sense, you need a little bit of character background. I have, in my family, a mother who loves all things, except that which she hates. Those of you who know her will understand. She is passionate and big-hearted, welcoming in whatever seems helpless or hurt or loveable to her eyes. When you know this, you can understand how it is that the Morgan Estate has come to be the proud caretakers of pretty much what could be called a "pack" of dogs. Let me introduce you properly.
This is Cowboy. He is stout, and very furry. One could compare him to Patrick Starr from the Spongebob Squarepants cartoon. His primary motivations are "Get Food" and "Get Affection."
Meet Indiana Appleseed. We really have no reason for naming her this, except that it sounds really cool. Indie is certainly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Sometimes it is actually intimidating to look her in the eye. It is our belief that Indiana's primary motivation is "Total Domination."
Lastly, this is sweet Ellie. As Indiana's daughter, she may or may not have inherited her mother's extreme intelligence levels. Either she is hiding it very well, or she's just really, really laidback. Her goal in life is pretty much to look cute, all the time, and to be very thoroughly hugged on a regular basis.
Now. Resume scene. I'm sitting in the living room, feeling sad that all of the weekends joys had given way so quickly to an overload when, out of no where, a game commences. My brother, for some inexplicable reason, decides it would be pure genius to run laps around the first floor of the house to try and get the pack to run after him. So he does, loudly, and waving his arms in the air as he goes. Within moments, both my mother and my twenty year old sister are in the thick of it with him, running laps and yelling and waving limbs and creating a general atmosphere of tomfoolery. As if this wasn't deeply amusing enough, the dogs are falling for it hook, line, and sinker, completely riveted by chasing the humans around the house in circles. So, in less than a minute, the ecosystem of our house has gone from quiet and contemplative to roaring and outrageous. How is this relevant to me?
I from my perch on the plaid chair in the den, can feel the old feeling warming my heart again. Anxiousness drops away like an old skin and I am overcome with so much goodness all at once that I can hardly keep it together: my family is beautiful! my life is exquisite! The laughter and the life that dwell in my home are so precious, and so rare. My family is a treasure.
3. Flowers from Italy. In the midst of this realization and in the midst of general mayhem, my father walks in stage right. He circles around the cyclone of family glee and makes his way over to me, holding roses in one hand and an envelope labeled "Annie Morgan" in the other. To my complete delight and utter confusion, he hands them to me and walks back into the kitchen. "Wha...who?" I stammer, smiling. The letter, once opened, explains in only a few words that Sam, my boyfriend, has not only very thoroughly remembered our one year anniversary while he is vacationing on another continent, but also has taken the time to make sure that there would be flowers in my hands for the occasion.
And as my family started up the music and began tangoing in the kitchen, I couldn't take anymore. I felt so deeply blessed and loved and cherished and fortunate and full all in that moment, and I could hardly explain why. Life is good, said the sound of my family dancing on hardwood floors. Life is good, said the sweet faces of a dozen roses in my arms, and the memories from a weekend when I felt utterly alive. Life is so, so good.
4. Roommate Wanted. After I have received Flowers from Italy, and after giving myself a few moments to stop crying and pull me back together, it seemed only appropriate to have a dance party! The Morgan Academy of Fine Arts and Dance in full swing. Everything from Salsa to Swing to Tango to Waltz to what can only be called "Free Stylin'," right smack dab on the kitchen floor. This is actually what got me to thinking about writing this blog.
Because ever since I've been planning to move to the Oglethorpe campus, I've been praying for the right roommate. Someone who will laugh with me and talk with me and someone who will help to make our room a safe place where we can be the most ourselves out of anywhere else on campus. And because, in the middle of Katie teaching my mom how to krump like Beyonce, I realized that this is sort of definitely part of who I am. I'm not gonna go to college and stop wanting to dance into all hours of the morning, so I'm probably gonna wanna find someone who will dance, too.
This does not, of course, mean they need to be skilled. That's not the point.
The point is I realized that I've been raised in a culture of spontaneous silliness and fun, and it's something I don't ever want to grow out of. Actually, I'd like to keep growing up into it, taking myself less and less seriously a little more every day that I live.
So. I feel like I just wrote a lot of words. I'll end with this, for fun.
WANTED: College Roommate.
Girl seeking Girl. 18 years of age.
Candidates should pray much, laugh often, and eat with verve.
Prefers night-owl personality, and someone who won't be mad at me if I'm a little bit late for things.
Someone who studies for tests, someone who will play games with me,
someone who may be persuaded to take risks.
Someone who would say "yes, that shirt looks wierd on you."
Someone who loves family, loves people,
loves God, and loves to live their life.
I'm not picky or anything. :)
Peace out, world. Thanks for reading.
[All photos in this entry are copyright of Mary Anne Morgan Photography 2008]
Welcome to my world of whirling words.
Where to begin? I think I have just too many things that feel very important that need to be written about today. My reponse to this is to skip the fluff of introduction and the polish of transition and just leap into what's on my mind. I feel like this reponse happens often, and that it may or may not be a sensible way to organize my brain, but this is my blog and I always get good grades when I'm the professor, so let us begin.
1. The Retreat. Last weekend, I experienced something unlike anything I've done before. I was invited to go on a weekend trip with some people from the college ministry at my church. It was sort of meant to be just a gathering of people who are involved in Tribe (our community groups), Small Groups (the more intimate level study groups), and Conspire (the creative team), in order for us to be able to connect and re-focus before the Summer Semester begins. Now, probably no soul but mine will understand the impact of the pronoun in that sentence. "Us." Over the course of 24 hours spent locked up in a lakehouse with twenty-something people from this ministry, I fell in love with how at home I felt among them. They played games and ate food and there was much deep conversation over the table on the back porch, but really what captured my heart was just this indelible Something that was there. God burned in my heart so fully over the course of that weekend, I didn't even know what to do with how happy I was just to be alive. He threw open the cobwebbed corners in me and filled them with the fullness of Himself. I felt absolutely loved, absolutely at peace, so completely undone in my inside world.
2. My Family is Beautiful. The night that I came home from The Retreat, I was just sitting in the living room deep in thought. I started to feel incredibly anxious, thinking about how much I needed to get done and how I should have gone running that day and a hundred other things that felt like an anvil in my brain. Now, in order for this next part of the story to make sense, you need a little bit of character background. I have, in my family, a mother who loves all things, except that which she hates. Those of you who know her will understand. She is passionate and big-hearted, welcoming in whatever seems helpless or hurt or loveable to her eyes. When you know this, you can understand how it is that the Morgan Estate has come to be the proud caretakers of pretty much what could be called a "pack" of dogs. Let me introduce you properly.
This is Cowboy. He is stout, and very furry. One could compare him to Patrick Starr from the Spongebob Squarepants cartoon. His primary motivations are "Get Food" and "Get Affection."
Meet Indiana Appleseed. We really have no reason for naming her this, except that it sounds really cool. Indie is certainly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Sometimes it is actually intimidating to look her in the eye. It is our belief that Indiana's primary motivation is "Total Domination."
Lastly, this is sweet Ellie. As Indiana's daughter, she may or may not have inherited her mother's extreme intelligence levels. Either she is hiding it very well, or she's just really, really laidback. Her goal in life is pretty much to look cute, all the time, and to be very thoroughly hugged on a regular basis.
Now. Resume scene. I'm sitting in the living room, feeling sad that all of the weekends joys had given way so quickly to an overload when, out of no where, a game commences. My brother, for some inexplicable reason, decides it would be pure genius to run laps around the first floor of the house to try and get the pack to run after him. So he does, loudly, and waving his arms in the air as he goes. Within moments, both my mother and my twenty year old sister are in the thick of it with him, running laps and yelling and waving limbs and creating a general atmosphere of tomfoolery. As if this wasn't deeply amusing enough, the dogs are falling for it hook, line, and sinker, completely riveted by chasing the humans around the house in circles. So, in less than a minute, the ecosystem of our house has gone from quiet and contemplative to roaring and outrageous. How is this relevant to me?
I from my perch on the plaid chair in the den, can feel the old feeling warming my heart again. Anxiousness drops away like an old skin and I am overcome with so much goodness all at once that I can hardly keep it together: my family is beautiful! my life is exquisite! The laughter and the life that dwell in my home are so precious, and so rare. My family is a treasure.
3. Flowers from Italy. In the midst of this realization and in the midst of general mayhem, my father walks in stage right. He circles around the cyclone of family glee and makes his way over to me, holding roses in one hand and an envelope labeled "Annie Morgan" in the other. To my complete delight and utter confusion, he hands them to me and walks back into the kitchen. "Wha...who?" I stammer, smiling. The letter, once opened, explains in only a few words that Sam, my boyfriend, has not only very thoroughly remembered our one year anniversary while he is vacationing on another continent, but also has taken the time to make sure that there would be flowers in my hands for the occasion.
And as my family started up the music and began tangoing in the kitchen, I couldn't take anymore. I felt so deeply blessed and loved and cherished and fortunate and full all in that moment, and I could hardly explain why. Life is good, said the sound of my family dancing on hardwood floors. Life is good, said the sweet faces of a dozen roses in my arms, and the memories from a weekend when I felt utterly alive. Life is so, so good.
4. Roommate Wanted. After I have received Flowers from Italy, and after giving myself a few moments to stop crying and pull me back together, it seemed only appropriate to have a dance party! The Morgan Academy of Fine Arts and Dance in full swing. Everything from Salsa to Swing to Tango to Waltz to what can only be called "Free Stylin'," right smack dab on the kitchen floor. This is actually what got me to thinking about writing this blog.
Because ever since I've been planning to move to the Oglethorpe campus, I've been praying for the right roommate. Someone who will laugh with me and talk with me and someone who will help to make our room a safe place where we can be the most ourselves out of anywhere else on campus. And because, in the middle of Katie teaching my mom how to krump like Beyonce, I realized that this is sort of definitely part of who I am. I'm not gonna go to college and stop wanting to dance into all hours of the morning, so I'm probably gonna wanna find someone who will dance, too.
This does not, of course, mean they need to be skilled. That's not the point.
The point is I realized that I've been raised in a culture of spontaneous silliness and fun, and it's something I don't ever want to grow out of. Actually, I'd like to keep growing up into it, taking myself less and less seriously a little more every day that I live.
So. I feel like I just wrote a lot of words. I'll end with this, for fun.
WANTED: College Roommate.
Girl seeking Girl. 18 years of age.
Candidates should pray much, laugh often, and eat with verve.
Prefers night-owl personality, and someone who won't be mad at me if I'm a little bit late for things.
Someone who studies for tests, someone who will play games with me,
someone who may be persuaded to take risks.
Someone who would say "yes, that shirt looks wierd on you."
Someone who loves family, loves people,
loves God, and loves to live their life.
I'm not picky or anything. :)
Peace out, world. Thanks for reading.
[All photos in this entry are copyright of Mary Anne Morgan Photography 2008]
5/28/08
may days.
It's too late for me to be starting a blog. After weeks of busyness and graduation madness, though, I will leap into the opportunity to make space for words.
I can hardly believe that this month is coming to a close. So much has taken place in the last six weeks, and yet time doesn't stop to feel the weight of change. Time tumbles always forward, sometimes with the quietest of movements and sometimes not the least bit silent. She will not leave me in her wake to wonder at the state of days that are over, but she keeps me in the very middle of her path and stays always on my heels. It is in this manner that I have come to find myself a high school graduate, college bound, and staring at the small calendar space between now and when I move out of my home.
But we have spoken of these things before.
What's on my mind? Kings of Convenience plays softly and sadly from the speakers on my laptop, filling up the space around me with nostalgia and remembering. Looking back through pictures my photographer mother has taken throughout the last few years, I am struck by simple things. Like how my brother used to be shorter than me, and how my hair used to be long. Like the way I felt when the picture was taken, or the look in someone's eyes. So much is not the same.
There is one photograph in particular that stands apart. The subject matter (my eye and nose in profile) is not what matters (no pun intended). It's the moment in time that is represented in the image. The picture itself is lovely; there is a bright azalea flower behind my ear and my eye is nearly turquoise in the light of the window behind me. But I see something else. I remember the shadow that clung to me, to my family, and to our home for all too long. Many of you know the story. When my mom miscarried in October of 2005, her emotional and physical health spiraled dizzyingly downward. Days of sadness turned into months of unrest; we were all staggering in the aftermath of tragedy and the everpresent tension of pain. This picture, taken nearly a year after the original loss took place, is colored by so many shades of hurt because I know the definition of the look in my eyes. I was sad, low on hope, and angry at so many things. My inner world was at war.
Now, looking back into my own sad face from two years later, the feeling is bittersweet. Because, although I can feel the ache of what was happening then, there is a stronger sense of something triumphant and new. I walked through the shadow, but I did not set up camp there. Life now is so vivid and bright and possible, open ended and beautiful like empty, blank pages. Time still urges us forward.
What comes next?
My friend Eliesa would say that this is a season of beginnings and endings. An end to highschool is the beginning of college. An end to being 17 is the beginning of being able to sign for my own library card. Change is what happens when you're trying to figure out how to cope. Change happens whether you're ready or not.
Anyway. Enough contemplative musing.
Let's talk about this.
This is me and my boyfriend Samuel. My mother has captured trillions of images of us in the course of our dating experience, but this is one of my absolute favorites. Yes, we are as happy as we look.
Why am I bringing this up?
I felt it was appropriate, in a blog focusing on life change and new things, to mention that June 1st will mark SamAnnie's one year point of existence. A year of goofing off in public places, holding hands in traffic, going to the maximum number of homecomings and proms available to us, and learning how to talk about hard things, even when the timing is inconvenient. I can say with full honesty that I could never have expected how deeply this kind of relationship would affect my life. It's all the good solidity and sweetness of a best friendship, startlingly intermixed with all these other feelings that are much newer and stranger and harder to understand. Butterflies, yes. But also, trust. A scarier, different-er kind of trust that takes a long time to grow. But one that is, in my humble opinion, well worth the wait.
And speaking of waiting.
I wish that boy would come home from Italy already. I feel like he died or something. His vacationing on other continents has left me feeling altogether boyfriendless, what with the complete and total lack of any communication whatsoever. All I can say is they better have some pretty jammin' postcards in Rome, and they better be coming my way.
That, and he comes home Sunday. I'm counting down the days.
Anyway. That's all for now.
More soon.
I can hardly believe that this month is coming to a close. So much has taken place in the last six weeks, and yet time doesn't stop to feel the weight of change. Time tumbles always forward, sometimes with the quietest of movements and sometimes not the least bit silent. She will not leave me in her wake to wonder at the state of days that are over, but she keeps me in the very middle of her path and stays always on my heels. It is in this manner that I have come to find myself a high school graduate, college bound, and staring at the small calendar space between now and when I move out of my home.
But we have spoken of these things before.
What's on my mind? Kings of Convenience plays softly and sadly from the speakers on my laptop, filling up the space around me with nostalgia and remembering. Looking back through pictures my photographer mother has taken throughout the last few years, I am struck by simple things. Like how my brother used to be shorter than me, and how my hair used to be long. Like the way I felt when the picture was taken, or the look in someone's eyes. So much is not the same.
There is one photograph in particular that stands apart. The subject matter (my eye and nose in profile) is not what matters (no pun intended). It's the moment in time that is represented in the image. The picture itself is lovely; there is a bright azalea flower behind my ear and my eye is nearly turquoise in the light of the window behind me. But I see something else. I remember the shadow that clung to me, to my family, and to our home for all too long. Many of you know the story. When my mom miscarried in October of 2005, her emotional and physical health spiraled dizzyingly downward. Days of sadness turned into months of unrest; we were all staggering in the aftermath of tragedy and the everpresent tension of pain. This picture, taken nearly a year after the original loss took place, is colored by so many shades of hurt because I know the definition of the look in my eyes. I was sad, low on hope, and angry at so many things. My inner world was at war.
Now, looking back into my own sad face from two years later, the feeling is bittersweet. Because, although I can feel the ache of what was happening then, there is a stronger sense of something triumphant and new. I walked through the shadow, but I did not set up camp there. Life now is so vivid and bright and possible, open ended and beautiful like empty, blank pages. Time still urges us forward.
What comes next?
My friend Eliesa would say that this is a season of beginnings and endings. An end to highschool is the beginning of college. An end to being 17 is the beginning of being able to sign for my own library card. Change is what happens when you're trying to figure out how to cope. Change happens whether you're ready or not.
Anyway. Enough contemplative musing.
Let's talk about this.
This is me and my boyfriend Samuel. My mother has captured trillions of images of us in the course of our dating experience, but this is one of my absolute favorites. Yes, we are as happy as we look.
Why am I bringing this up?
I felt it was appropriate, in a blog focusing on life change and new things, to mention that June 1st will mark SamAnnie's one year point of existence. A year of goofing off in public places, holding hands in traffic, going to the maximum number of homecomings and proms available to us, and learning how to talk about hard things, even when the timing is inconvenient. I can say with full honesty that I could never have expected how deeply this kind of relationship would affect my life. It's all the good solidity and sweetness of a best friendship, startlingly intermixed with all these other feelings that are much newer and stranger and harder to understand. Butterflies, yes. But also, trust. A scarier, different-er kind of trust that takes a long time to grow. But one that is, in my humble opinion, well worth the wait.
And speaking of waiting.
I wish that boy would come home from Italy already. I feel like he died or something. His vacationing on other continents has left me feeling altogether boyfriendless, what with the complete and total lack of any communication whatsoever. All I can say is they better have some pretty jammin' postcards in Rome, and they better be coming my way.
That, and he comes home Sunday. I'm counting down the days.
Anyway. That's all for now.
More soon.
5/5/08
professor.
So, I am sitting here, 
in my beautiful bed, with my beautiful birthday-present MacBook computer in my lap, feeling my body's relief at finally getting to sink down in between my sheets. Behind my head is a plethora of pillowy objects, one of which looks much like the critter in the picture you see here, and goes by the name of Professor. He was a Christmas present, and is currently my favorite bed-buddy since Lambie of my younger years.
Professor has been with me to many a sleepover, been my comfort on less-than-comfortable car rides, and even flew with me faithfully to Guatemala and back, all in the short space of time since Christmas 2007. But more than all of this, Professor is an easy transition into being able to talk about what's really on my mind:
College.
And no, not just because his name is "Professor," although that helps.
To me, Professor turns my mind in the Oglethorpe direction for a few reasons. One is because, for some reason, I am inordinately excited about bringing my incredible good-looking bed to dorm life. For those that have not seen it, you will have to believe me when I say that my bed is awesome. In addition to my apple red flannel sheets, apple red uber-soft blanket, and Professor's furry face, I managed to wrangle up an authentic every-color-in-the-rainbow Mexican blanket to be the icing on the cake. At the end of the bed, I keep one turquoise and one lime green blanket folded on top of each other, because I tend to freeze easily. On the other side, I pile up two or three brightly colored pillows on top of my red one. If it sounds overwhelming, that might be a little bit true. But really it's just perfect, and the only other bed ensemble that comes close to winning my heart as much would be Stephanie's cowboy sheets. Those are pretty sweet.
The second reason for my college-bound mindset tonight is that I can look at Professor, sitting on my dorm-bed-to-be, and my heart will go in several directions at once. Simultaneously, I feel like a very small person who wants to sit in bed and hug her stuffed animal for a very long time, and like a very excited person whose eyes are filled with the sun on the horizon of her life. Almost as soon as I had made the firm decision to send in all my forms to Oglethorpe, the forms that all say things like "definitely, for sure, I'll go to this school," I was overwhelmed with both of these feelings in turn. I sent each form off with a slightly trembling hand, realizing more and more that I really would only have months left to live as young as I am. Not so much that I will be all of a sudden very grown up the moment I step over the OgleThreshold; not that at all. I just suddenly understood that I only have a few more months left of the way things are, and then it will all change. I'll step into a world where "going home" only happens on the weekends, and not at the end of each day. My family will be 45 minutes away instead of playing songs and making food on the floor below me. My room will be emptied of what matters to me most and I will have to decide all the books I want to take from my shelves.
New. Different. Alarming.
We are, of course, still waiting on verification of financial aid stuff to all come through and whatnot. And it's like my heart can't believe until we are cleared through every last detail. But if I tell myself the truth, I've been given the "YES!" signal all the way down the board. I'm just afraid to believe that for sure, and afraid of what it means if I do believe it.
Change.
Anyway, the other half of me is still rejoicing, though. I'm like, picking out room mates. Yep.
Other than this, I have many things to think on and write out. But it is late enough that I feel it would be in the better interest of the general public for me to end at this time.
I will quickly mention: I turned eighteen. I had a party. It was outstanding.
My parents gave me a future in college by giving me the only thing I would have asked for but also the thing I did NOT expect:
BEHOLD: MacBook. I am still a little overwhelmed when I think about it. Oh, the papers I will write on these keys.
Annnd, Julisa gave me a running ensemble. Sweet. She loves me. :)
Ellie gave me my life manuscript. Every blog I've written since 2004, all printed neatly, creatively bound, and beautifully organized, wrapped in a box and staring me in the face saying "someone loves you, someone loves you, someone really, really loves you."
I was...more than a little shocked. Thank you, Ellabell. I don't know if I will ever be able to give you anything to measure up.
And, there is more. There is always more. Mi novio gave me a typewriter, which I am tempted to write on every time I walk near it in my room. If I let myself continue, I will not sleep.
So, sweet dreams world. More soon.
in my beautiful bed, with my beautiful birthday-present MacBook computer in my lap, feeling my body's relief at finally getting to sink down in between my sheets. Behind my head is a plethora of pillowy objects, one of which looks much like the critter in the picture you see here, and goes by the name of Professor. He was a Christmas present, and is currently my favorite bed-buddy since Lambie of my younger years. Professor has been with me to many a sleepover, been my comfort on less-than-comfortable car rides, and even flew with me faithfully to Guatemala and back, all in the short space of time since Christmas 2007. But more than all of this, Professor is an easy transition into being able to talk about what's really on my mind:
College.
And no, not just because his name is "Professor," although that helps.
To me, Professor turns my mind in the Oglethorpe direction for a few reasons. One is because, for some reason, I am inordinately excited about bringing my incredible good-looking bed to dorm life. For those that have not seen it, you will have to believe me when I say that my bed is awesome. In addition to my apple red flannel sheets, apple red uber-soft blanket, and Professor's furry face, I managed to wrangle up an authentic every-color-in-the-rainbow Mexican blanket to be the icing on the cake. At the end of the bed, I keep one turquoise and one lime green blanket folded on top of each other, because I tend to freeze easily. On the other side, I pile up two or three brightly colored pillows on top of my red one. If it sounds overwhelming, that might be a little bit true. But really it's just perfect, and the only other bed ensemble that comes close to winning my heart as much would be Stephanie's cowboy sheets. Those are pretty sweet.
The second reason for my college-bound mindset tonight is that I can look at Professor, sitting on my dorm-bed-to-be, and my heart will go in several directions at once. Simultaneously, I feel like a very small person who wants to sit in bed and hug her stuffed animal for a very long time, and like a very excited person whose eyes are filled with the sun on the horizon of her life. Almost as soon as I had made the firm decision to send in all my forms to Oglethorpe, the forms that all say things like "definitely, for sure, I'll go to this school," I was overwhelmed with both of these feelings in turn. I sent each form off with a slightly trembling hand, realizing more and more that I really would only have months left to live as young as I am. Not so much that I will be all of a sudden very grown up the moment I step over the OgleThreshold; not that at all. I just suddenly understood that I only have a few more months left of the way things are, and then it will all change. I'll step into a world where "going home" only happens on the weekends, and not at the end of each day. My family will be 45 minutes away instead of playing songs and making food on the floor below me. My room will be emptied of what matters to me most and I will have to decide all the books I want to take from my shelves.
New. Different. Alarming.
We are, of course, still waiting on verification of financial aid stuff to all come through and whatnot. And it's like my heart can't believe until we are cleared through every last detail. But if I tell myself the truth, I've been given the "YES!" signal all the way down the board. I'm just afraid to believe that for sure, and afraid of what it means if I do believe it.
Change.
Anyway, the other half of me is still rejoicing, though. I'm like, picking out room mates. Yep.
Other than this, I have many things to think on and write out. But it is late enough that I feel it would be in the better interest of the general public for me to end at this time.
I will quickly mention: I turned eighteen. I had a party. It was outstanding.
My parents gave me a future in college by giving me the only thing I would have asked for but also the thing I did NOT expect:
BEHOLD: MacBook. I am still a little overwhelmed when I think about it. Oh, the papers I will write on these keys.
Annnd, Julisa gave me a running ensemble. Sweet. She loves me. :)
Ellie gave me my life manuscript. Every blog I've written since 2004, all printed neatly, creatively bound, and beautifully organized, wrapped in a box and staring me in the face saying "someone loves you, someone loves you, someone really, really loves you."
I was...more than a little shocked. Thank you, Ellabell. I don't know if I will ever be able to give you anything to measure up.
And, there is more. There is always more. Mi novio gave me a typewriter, which I am tempted to write on every time I walk near it in my room. If I let myself continue, I will not sleep.
So, sweet dreams world. More soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
