joo listen to me.

Sometimes, when you see a really great movie, just remembering it is all it takes to make you grin.



I saw one of those recently.

Happy Feet, a movie about a tribe of penguins, of all things, makes me grin every time I conjur up a mental image of the little clan of short Hispanic penguins pictured in the photo above. They made the movie. Sans the cocky, Latin attitude they brought to the table, Happy Feet would've been a very odd, slightly endearing film. But with these guys, it was uproarious and adorable. I am more than willing to throw up an undisputed one and a half thumbs (they lost half a thumb with all the "Lovelace the penguin sex god" crap they threw in there). And honestly, it was not a very "good" movie. The plot had holes like your little brother's gym socks, and both the beginning and the ending lefts you with a "what, the crap?" expression on your face. But nonetheless, those little mexican penguins pulled through for me in the end, regardless of the fact that they weren't even all that relevant to the thesis statement of the story itself. They were over-confidence, and unexpected humor, and a really awesome hispanic accent.

I'm all about that.


Anyway. Another wonderful thing about the movie was the idea of a "heartsong." Every adorable little fluff of baby penguin gets sent to school shortly after hatching in order to identify and learn to sing their heartsong. What the heck is a heartsong? It is exactly what is seems like it should be. It is the music that plays from the inside of your soul to the outside of your body. It's what gets you a mate, what makes your identity, it's like a musical name. It's what makes you a penguin. No heartsong? No penguin.

Now, the whole plot of the movie revolves around Mumble, the penguin who dances instead of singing. He becomes an outcast for being "just not penguin" and moves in with the aforementioned mexican comrades. So, Mumble is in penguin love with this lovely little sheila called Gloria. Gloria's voice melts the heart of everything male she comes in contact with, but she's not really interested in any of it. She has a soft spot for Mumble.

My favorite scene in the whole movie, I think, is when the two penguin lovers realize at long last that they are made for each other. The heartsong is supposed to be designed to fit someone else's melody, as well as your own. The way to find a penguin mate is to sing until you hear what complements your own song. Gloria tries to discourage Mumble from his pursuit of her because he has no song, but he just keeps on dancing right up to her as she begins to sing. Suddenly, the camera is doing long, sweeping shots around them as they realize that her song and his rhythm are made for each other. You can see the hope rekindle in Gloria's eyes as she begins to again believe that someone was made for her, that her song is a duet.

Now, kid movie or no kid movie, that is enough to grab ahold of my heart.


I think that there is something so intrinsically resonant with humanity in needing to know that your song is a duet. It doesn't always mean marriage, or romance, or whathaveyou. I think sometimes it's just friendship, and the presence of another by your side in every circumstance. But, of course, because I am seventeen and because I am dating someone and because I am Annie, the romantic implications are unavoidably appealing to me.

I think maybe there's a chance that this is the "knowing" feeling that all these love veterans keep telling me about. I guess it's not all that much clearer of an explanation, but maybe the "knowing" is when you realize that your heartsong sounds like a duet with someone else's. Maybe that's when you drop your shields and start to look around like a naked person outside in January having no idea how you got where you are. I mean, I'm sure it's slightly more fun than that, but I'm guessing it would be just as startling.

Anyway. I did not plan that little soliloquy, but that's kind of the whole idea behind blogging for fun, I guess.

Hmmm.

Things I Like Right Now:

1. Fingerpainting. I might have to take a break, considering I don't want to burn myself out before I can churn out more than two canvases, but I do like painting so much. I stopped for a long time, probably because I didn't feel like I was doing very well at it. Self-discouragement hit me like a monsoon of silent uncreativity, and I didn't paint for months. This is okay. I didn't need to paint, for a while. And then I did. So I painted, and I am so glad. There is something inherently strong in the connection between artist and art when the work is done in putting fingers, hands, and skin directly to the canvas. It's like the brush is the only thing barring you from being completely involved in what you're working on. When that barrier is removed, nothing remains, and it's just you, covered in paint, smiling.

2. "I miss you" texts. Almost as good as the ever-popular "I missed you so much" hug (coming soon to an Annie near you!).

3. Long talks. I slept over at the wonderful, beautiful Ashley Moore's home last night. It was five in the morning before I realized that we had been sleepovering since approximately 9:30PM that night and we had done nothing but talk. And by "nothing," I mean nothing. We talked for hours and hours without any real concept of how time was passing, only pausing to realize at the end of it, right before we slept, that we had been in conversation for an unbelievably extended period of time. Then we smiled, made awesome jokes about dumb things, and slept for not-long-enough. Oh, sleepovers. I think I will continue to have them with my close friends (or my husband) when I'm technically too old to do so anymore. I can picture me, with a DVD in one hand and a pint of Ben&Jerry's in the other, looking very pajama-ey and with pleading eyes, convincing the love of my life to stay up until all hours just to sit and sleepover with me. Oh, boy. I am such a girl, and I love it. Maybe we'd make a concession for the sake of his manliness and watch something with explosions in it. Either way: fun.

4. Oreos. With peanut butter, milk, and a big smile. Heck. Yes.

5. Naps. I'm beginning to believe that it is more fun to wake up early and sleep through the afternoon than it is to sleep all morning. I have yet to purposefully set this plan into action in my life, but it seems like a good idea to me. I napped today from 6-something to 8-something, and was awakened by the sound of thunder outside my window. What a beautiful feeling that is. Those are the kinds of moments when I thank Jesus for the roof over my head, and the sheltered feeling of warmth that watching the rain can bring.

Other than this, I'm sure I could make up even more irrelevant stuff to say, but I might just go to bed soon instead. It is important that you remember to hold on to the things that make you happy in your life. So often, I think we let ourselves believe that if it's easy, or happy, or not "productive," it must be knocked clean off the "must do" list and into the "when I get around to it" pile. Not so! Cling to what is good. Fingerpaint. Write music. Lie on the floor with your head right underneath the piano and let the vibrations of the notes pour through you. These are the things on my list these days. Along side of "love the people that matter most to you," and "do not forget to remember your God."

Someone told me recently that my life sounds relaxing via the things I write here on perspicacious. You should know that my life is probably a lot like yours. It is relaxing when I let myself make space for relaxation. I strongly suggest you consider this as possibly one of the most important things you can do for yourself.

Just maybe.


Anyway. This is kind of long. I keep remembering more things I want to say.

One more list, and then I'll make myself finish.

Things I Hope for in the Near Future:
(or, Things that Sound Appealing)

1. A letter in the mail. With my name on the front of the envelope, written with affection by the hand of someone who cares. Words written by the strength of our hands are so few and far between these days. Especially ones with affection in between the spaces.

2. A song. A sweet song. One that either sounds like it was written just to me, or one that actually was. Who doesn't want that?

3. A heartbeat hug. Self-explanatory. Again, who doesn't want this?


Done. Or else you may never come back for fear that I'll just keep becoming increasingly more long-winded. Have no fear. The end is here.


Endnotes:

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