Last weekend, Mark and I decided that the best thing for me to do, instead of looking for a job on my own, would be to go to a temporary job agency so that I could work little office jobs that were not stressful and that gave me the capability of trying a lot of different fields so that I could see what I wanted to do when I grew up. So, on Monday, I went to the agency and filled out all of the paperwork and took the clerical tests (I found out that I can type 56 words per minute and I made a 67% on my Excel test and a 87% on my Word test--not the best clerical worker!). The worker at the agency said that she thought she could place me pretty quickly, and what did I think about part-time? I was excited because I wanted to ease my way back into the whole career thing, so I said I was cool with anything.
Well, God saw it differently.
Two days after I went in to the agency, I got a call at 7:56 a.m. with a job offer. I had not been awake that early in six months, so I didn't answer, but Mark heard the phone and checked his message, and he told me to wake up and call the agency back. I called and told her I could be there in an hour, so I got ready and got to work at an environmental clean-up company that makes organic products that clean up land fills, water, petroleum spills, etc. My boss goes all over the world, consulting clients on how to clean up major pollution sites. It is really a great company. I told her about our documentary and how Mark and I want to make a documentary about third-world and other foreign countries, and she said that she would like us do make a documentary about her dealings with China.
What is really strange about this comment is that a few weeks ago, Teri showed me a website that she had been looking at as she was considering adoption. The orphanage was in China, and she has always wanted a little girl. She said that she would like to go over to China and help out in an orphanage. Then, last Sunday, Mark and I went to a church up here in Roanoke, and a woman came up to us and started telling us about her recent adoption of two baby girls in China. When she found out that we had done a documentary, she insisted that we do a documentary about an orphanage in China. Now, my boss told me that she would be interested in Mark and I doing a documentary about China.
So, I have decided to take the hint that God is not-so-gently nudging me with, and I plan on starting pre-production on a documentary about girls in China and the whole adoption process. Mark and I both agreed that it is something that we want to pursue, so I am moving forward in this plan. It will probably take about a year before I actually shoot the footage because of all of the red tape involved with filmmaking overseas, but I wanted to let it be known that this is my sincere intent for the next few months. Please pray.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Greetings from Virginia!
I would just like to thank those of you who still check my blog, even though I haven't posted anything in a really long time.
Mark and I got in to Virginia on Monday and have started trying to find a sense of normalcy here. It is the first time that I have ever moved away from my family, so I have to fight the urge to cry for my Mom sometimes, but Mark and I felt that we had to get away so that we could create our own new, cohesive family unit. Being the babies of the family comes with a stigma of being perceived as spoiled brats who cannot do anything for themselves, irresponsible, reckless, silly, not in touch with reality, etc. so we have decided to pull away a little and reveal to the world that we can live an okay life with just the two of us looking after it.
We are staying at a Travelodge until July 1st, so we bought a "bed in a bag" and some food and they put a mini fridge and microwave in our room. It's okay for now, kind of like camping. I hate going to the laundromat. I have never had to do that, and I am terrified of creepy people trying to look at my panties. I hate to even fold Mark's undies in front of those weird people. Mark and I agreed that we have to go together because it is too dangerous for me to be alone there.
We have adopted a blue Beta fish from my sister's Pre-K classroom. His name is Booberry and he is very friendly. He likes to be on the side of the bowl that we are on, and I regularly catch him looking at me in his bowl. He is very strong too, because I thought that my sister was going to watch him when Mark and I went on our honeymoon, and she thought we were taking him, so he sat at my mother's house for a week without any food, and he made it. He is one tough cookie.
Mark's birthday was Tuesday, which was his first day of school. I took him to class and started running my errands and realized that I had forgot his birthday, so I bought him flowers and balloons, and took him to his favorite restaurant (an Indian restaurant called Nawab) for lunch. He didn't remember it was his birthday until I told him when I picked him up, and he had to call his parents because they forgot too! I felt bad for him, but he was cool with it. Apparently, he didn't grow up with the annoying habit of a birthday "countdown" a month ahead of time like my family does. It gives us more time to be the center of attention.
I will post again when I get a job. Hopefully it will be a desk job with a computer. That way, I can have internet access and have something to do other than stare at a clock. Cheers!
Mark and I got in to Virginia on Monday and have started trying to find a sense of normalcy here. It is the first time that I have ever moved away from my family, so I have to fight the urge to cry for my Mom sometimes, but Mark and I felt that we had to get away so that we could create our own new, cohesive family unit. Being the babies of the family comes with a stigma of being perceived as spoiled brats who cannot do anything for themselves, irresponsible, reckless, silly, not in touch with reality, etc. so we have decided to pull away a little and reveal to the world that we can live an okay life with just the two of us looking after it.
We are staying at a Travelodge until July 1st, so we bought a "bed in a bag" and some food and they put a mini fridge and microwave in our room. It's okay for now, kind of like camping. I hate going to the laundromat. I have never had to do that, and I am terrified of creepy people trying to look at my panties. I hate to even fold Mark's undies in front of those weird people. Mark and I agreed that we have to go together because it is too dangerous for me to be alone there.
We have adopted a blue Beta fish from my sister's Pre-K classroom. His name is Booberry and he is very friendly. He likes to be on the side of the bowl that we are on, and I regularly catch him looking at me in his bowl. He is very strong too, because I thought that my sister was going to watch him when Mark and I went on our honeymoon, and she thought we were taking him, so he sat at my mother's house for a week without any food, and he made it. He is one tough cookie.
Mark's birthday was Tuesday, which was his first day of school. I took him to class and started running my errands and realized that I had forgot his birthday, so I bought him flowers and balloons, and took him to his favorite restaurant (an Indian restaurant called Nawab) for lunch. He didn't remember it was his birthday until I told him when I picked him up, and he had to call his parents because they forgot too! I felt bad for him, but he was cool with it. Apparently, he didn't grow up with the annoying habit of a birthday "countdown" a month ahead of time like my family does. It gives us more time to be the center of attention.
I will post again when I get a job. Hopefully it will be a desk job with a computer. That way, I can have internet access and have something to do other than stare at a clock. Cheers!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
I Wonder if We Have Done This...
Mark and I were in the bookstore the other day and we ended up with twelve books that we wanted to buy. We didn't go in there with any book in particular that we wanted to buy, but we just went around the store, picking up book after book that we "had to have." This is what we came up with:
1. The Top Ten: Writers Pick their Favorite Books (J. Peder Zane)
2. How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas Foster)
3. Where Shall Wisdom Be Found? (Harold Bloom)
4. The Western Canon (Harold Bloom)
5. The Idiot (F. Dostoevsky)
6. Anna Karenina (L. Tolstoy)
7. The Interpretation of Dreams (S. Freud)
8. A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole)
9. Traveling Mercies (Anne Lamott)
10. A History of God (K. Armstrong)
11. The Samurai (R. Samuel)
12.The Everything Baby Names Book: Pick the Perfect Name for Your Baby (June Rifkin)
The baby book is so we can choose correct names for our characters, not because we are having babies. The reason I put this list up is because Mark and I only want to take a limited number of our books to LA, and we want to know what everybody else's top book list would be. Feel free to put more or less, just tell us books we can't live without reading.
1. The Top Ten: Writers Pick their Favorite Books (J. Peder Zane)
2. How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas Foster)
3. Where Shall Wisdom Be Found? (Harold Bloom)
4. The Western Canon (Harold Bloom)
5. The Idiot (F. Dostoevsky)
6. Anna Karenina (L. Tolstoy)
7. The Interpretation of Dreams (S. Freud)
8. A Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole)
9. Traveling Mercies (Anne Lamott)
10. A History of God (K. Armstrong)
11. The Samurai (R. Samuel)
12.The Everything Baby Names Book: Pick the Perfect Name for Your Baby (June Rifkin)
The baby book is so we can choose correct names for our characters, not because we are having babies. The reason I put this list up is because Mark and I only want to take a limited number of our books to LA, and we want to know what everybody else's top book list would be. Feel free to put more or less, just tell us books we can't live without reading.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Don't Ask the Question
Sometimes when it feels like everything is going wrong, I think to myself, "What else could possibly happen?" I caught myself a couple of days ago when I thought that very same question, because I didn't want to know the answer.
I tried to change my name today, only to realize that I now have three legal names on record. My maiden name, my new hyphenated last name, and my first name with "L" and Mark's last name is another. The only thing I can do about it now is first publish the name I want in a newspaper ($80), then go to the superior court and petition for a new name on court documents ($75), then change my marriage license, then change my driver's license ($20). In the petition to the superior court, I have to explain why I want to change my name. I shouldn't have to defend why I want my own name that I have had my entire life. It is ridiculous that I have to go through all that trouble just because I don't want to drop my middle and last name. It's my name, for goodness sake. I should be able to change it to whatever I want. It makes me question just how "progressive" America really is when people say things like, "Just take your husband's name and don't make a big deal about it," or "Does it matter that much to you?" Of course it matters that much to me! What else do you have if you can't even have control over your own name!
So, I plan on putting an ad in the paper. If I have to, I will put it on the front page and it will say, "I am paying $175 just so I can keep my name. It does matter to me, I will make a big deal about it, and if this isn't a patriarchal society, then I don't know what is."
Thank goodness for my feminist husband, because most men would be offended if their new bride was going to make this much of a deal about their name. However, it does beg the question of the purpose for taking such offense to this gesture. I understand that men feel like it is a gift that they are giving to choose one person to have their name, and it makes it alot easier with paperwork and other things, but what's the big deal? I don't understand why there has to be so little choice in our society when it comes to a woman's name. I like my name, I understand that I will always carry a man's name (whether it be my father's or my husband's) but at least it is mine, and it is not a bad thing to want to protect it.
I tried to change my name today, only to realize that I now have three legal names on record. My maiden name, my new hyphenated last name, and my first name with "L" and Mark's last name is another. The only thing I can do about it now is first publish the name I want in a newspaper ($80), then go to the superior court and petition for a new name on court documents ($75), then change my marriage license, then change my driver's license ($20). In the petition to the superior court, I have to explain why I want to change my name. I shouldn't have to defend why I want my own name that I have had my entire life. It is ridiculous that I have to go through all that trouble just because I don't want to drop my middle and last name. It's my name, for goodness sake. I should be able to change it to whatever I want. It makes me question just how "progressive" America really is when people say things like, "Just take your husband's name and don't make a big deal about it," or "Does it matter that much to you?" Of course it matters that much to me! What else do you have if you can't even have control over your own name!
So, I plan on putting an ad in the paper. If I have to, I will put it on the front page and it will say, "I am paying $175 just so I can keep my name. It does matter to me, I will make a big deal about it, and if this isn't a patriarchal society, then I don't know what is."
Thank goodness for my feminist husband, because most men would be offended if their new bride was going to make this much of a deal about their name. However, it does beg the question of the purpose for taking such offense to this gesture. I understand that men feel like it is a gift that they are giving to choose one person to have their name, and it makes it alot easier with paperwork and other things, but what's the big deal? I don't understand why there has to be so little choice in our society when it comes to a woman's name. I like my name, I understand that I will always carry a man's name (whether it be my father's or my husband's) but at least it is mine, and it is not a bad thing to want to protect it.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
The Documentary and Beyond
The premiere was really great. We showed the film in Augusta on the 14th of this month. The room would hold 110 people, and there was one more person than capacity in attendance. It was a packed house. We got a lot of good feedback from the audience, and we were grateful for all of our friends and family who showed up.
Now that the premiere is over, Mark and I are starting to focus on other things, like our marriage and writing. I have been trying to write for three months, but I didn't get a lot done with the documentary in full swing. Now, I am enjoying having the house quiet enough to concentrate. I like writing, even though it sometimes takes way longer for me to fight my demons than for me to write a sentence. I think I have talked myself into liking mediocrity so much that I can actually write without any expectation of what it will turn out to be. If it is better than mediocre, I will be thrilled.
We will be moving in seven weeks to Virginia, then we will move again (after seven weeks in Virginia) to somewhere. We are hoping for LA, but we will keep our eyes open for opportunities elsewhere. It feels so strange to be in the middle of such change. I guess it isn't unusual for people to want to pick up and go somewhere else, but it is scary when you realize that you are fool enough to actually do it. I don't think that anyone is surprised that Mark and I are planning this traveling circus, but it worries me that we haven't talked ourselves out of it yet! I am thrilled that we are going to be this unstable at the beginning of our marriage because it makes me know that no matter what happens in my life, or Mark's life, or our lives, we will always be up for the ride, no matter where that takes us. In other words, we trust each other, and there is nothing better than that.
Now that the premiere is over, Mark and I are starting to focus on other things, like our marriage and writing. I have been trying to write for three months, but I didn't get a lot done with the documentary in full swing. Now, I am enjoying having the house quiet enough to concentrate. I like writing, even though it sometimes takes way longer for me to fight my demons than for me to write a sentence. I think I have talked myself into liking mediocrity so much that I can actually write without any expectation of what it will turn out to be. If it is better than mediocre, I will be thrilled.
We will be moving in seven weeks to Virginia, then we will move again (after seven weeks in Virginia) to somewhere. We are hoping for LA, but we will keep our eyes open for opportunities elsewhere. It feels so strange to be in the middle of such change. I guess it isn't unusual for people to want to pick up and go somewhere else, but it is scary when you realize that you are fool enough to actually do it. I don't think that anyone is surprised that Mark and I are planning this traveling circus, but it worries me that we haven't talked ourselves out of it yet! I am thrilled that we are going to be this unstable at the beginning of our marriage because it makes me know that no matter what happens in my life, or Mark's life, or our lives, we will always be up for the ride, no matter where that takes us. In other words, we trust each other, and there is nothing better than that.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
It's Been Awhile
Mark and I have been frantically working on the documentary for the entirety of our marriage, but the manifestation of all of our hard work will culminate on Saturday at the premiere at the Morris Museum of Art. Here are some photos that we took as we traveled to Florida, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Montana, Washington, and California.
This is Mark and James, the other executive producer in Oklahoma City.
This is a picture of Bozeman, Montana. Mark and I went there to interview one of Dub's grandsons. It was 50 degrees with no wind, so we had just missed the cold front, but there was still some snow on the ground.
This is a picture of Santa Monica. Mark and I went there to get some b-roll footage at David Zucker's office. I wanted to take a second and look at the Santa Monica pier.
This is a picture of the front of LAX. As you can see, the traffic around the airport is horrendous.
This is pretty much been the summation of the past three months. Besides the editing issues and politics, the documentary has been progressing at a break-neck pace. We hope that the documentary still has some soul after all of the headaches and heartaches that we have endured. I'll keep you posted.
This is Mark and James, the other executive producer in Oklahoma City.
This is a picture of Bozeman, Montana. Mark and I went there to interview one of Dub's grandsons. It was 50 degrees with no wind, so we had just missed the cold front, but there was still some snow on the ground.
This is a picture of Santa Monica. Mark and I went there to get some b-roll footage at David Zucker's office. I wanted to take a second and look at the Santa Monica pier.
This is a picture of the front of LAX. As you can see, the traffic around the airport is horrendous.
This is pretty much been the summation of the past three months. Besides the editing issues and politics, the documentary has been progressing at a break-neck pace. We hope that the documentary still has some soul after all of the headaches and heartaches that we have endured. I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
An Internet Love Letter
As you know, Mark and I are working on a documentary about Dub Taylor. I was asked to post on the new blog about our documentary, and Mark was taken aback at how sweet it was. I guess I am cheating by cutting and pasting, but I wanted to share it. You can see the original post at http://dubtaylor.blogspot.com/.
The journey of this documentary is very special to me, even though I came in towards the middle of the process. I have known Mark since I was in the sixth grade. His mother was my sixth grade teacher and Mark and I were involved in a few school activities together. Ever since then, I knew that Mark was a very special person. When Mark and I reconnected in April last year, he told me about his passion for filmmaking and how excited he was to be working on his first project. I had been working on some short films in college, so I told him if he needed any help with any aspect of the process, I would be available.
It was only a few weeks after we started dating that I was on my way to meet Dixie Carter for an interview about her experience working with Dub Taylor. The journey started making unexpected turns when we got a phone call that we could interview Buck Taylor as well on this trip. It was really exciting, and we got a ton of footage that was essential to the project's success.
The next trip was to some B-Western experts in Augusta. Mark and I went alone, and by this time, Mark and I were planning a wedding, so I snuck off and did some wedding dress shopping while he got more interviews. Next, we interviewed Bobby Copeland in Tennessee. Even though we got some good footage, I remember that being a horrible trip because I was sick as a dog and I drove most of the way.
Our most recent trip was to Oklahoma City, where we interviewed some representatives of Dub's old high school, Classen High School. We also were able to meet with the curator of the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum and to get a great interview and some wonderful b-roll footage.
What I have taken away from this experience so far is that the team that is working on this project is really dedicated to great filmmaking. Mark has such a unique vision and passion, and the people that allow us to interview them are visibly calm and relaxed around him, which I contribute to his extraordinary amount of compassion. Mark's love of good story-telling, along with his team who understand and execute his vision, make me proud to say that I am an executive producer of a great project, and a proud wife of a wonderful man. This might sound strange, but I think that this is the essence of Dub Taylor's legacy: that people remember not who he was or what he looked like, but that he contributed to some of the best memories of people's lives. Whether it be little boys going to see B-Westerns, or a father and daughter watching a rerun of Bonanza together, or a couple of kids who fell in love working on his documentary, Dub's legacy, to me, is that he could provide an outlet for joy in people's lives. I truly believe that, and in turn, truly believe in this project.
Kasey Ray-Stokes
The Journey
The journey of this documentary is very special to me, even though I came in towards the middle of the process. I have known Mark since I was in the sixth grade. His mother was my sixth grade teacher and Mark and I were involved in a few school activities together. Ever since then, I knew that Mark was a very special person. When Mark and I reconnected in April last year, he told me about his passion for filmmaking and how excited he was to be working on his first project. I had been working on some short films in college, so I told him if he needed any help with any aspect of the process, I would be available.
It was only a few weeks after we started dating that I was on my way to meet Dixie Carter for an interview about her experience working with Dub Taylor. The journey started making unexpected turns when we got a phone call that we could interview Buck Taylor as well on this trip. It was really exciting, and we got a ton of footage that was essential to the project's success.
The next trip was to some B-Western experts in Augusta. Mark and I went alone, and by this time, Mark and I were planning a wedding, so I snuck off and did some wedding dress shopping while he got more interviews. Next, we interviewed Bobby Copeland in Tennessee. Even though we got some good footage, I remember that being a horrible trip because I was sick as a dog and I drove most of the way.
Our most recent trip was to Oklahoma City, where we interviewed some representatives of Dub's old high school, Classen High School. We also were able to meet with the curator of the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum and to get a great interview and some wonderful b-roll footage.
What I have taken away from this experience so far is that the team that is working on this project is really dedicated to great filmmaking. Mark has such a unique vision and passion, and the people that allow us to interview them are visibly calm and relaxed around him, which I contribute to his extraordinary amount of compassion. Mark's love of good story-telling, along with his team who understand and execute his vision, make me proud to say that I am an executive producer of a great project, and a proud wife of a wonderful man. This might sound strange, but I think that this is the essence of Dub Taylor's legacy: that people remember not who he was or what he looked like, but that he contributed to some of the best memories of people's lives. Whether it be little boys going to see B-Westerns, or a father and daughter watching a rerun of Bonanza together, or a couple of kids who fell in love working on his documentary, Dub's legacy, to me, is that he could provide an outlet for joy in people's lives. I truly believe that, and in turn, truly believe in this project.
Kasey Ray-Stokes
Short Circuit
Well, I don't have one cohesive thought that will be a connecting thread in this post. I have not been posting lately because I haven't really have anything to say, but I was starting to feel guilty, so here it goes.
1. Ever since I got married, I have been sick. Mark and I have chronic headaches, stomach viruses, allergies, acid reflux, etc. We can't really figure out what the main cause is, except for an overwhelming move, weight gain, a limited amount of sleep, stress, and major life changes. We are still trying to figure it out, so if you can think of something that we are missing, let me know.
2. That brings me to my next point: weight gain is the most depressing thing in the universe. I blame it on our kitchen (who refuses to stay clean, so we HAVE to eat out every meal) and all of the stress from the past few months. Even though I have identified the culprits, I don't feel any better. I actually hate my body worse than I ever have. My fat jeans are now my jeans. I would vomit if I could. Just kidding, sort of.
3. This whole novel writing thing stinks. I hate formal structure and the feeling of failure that won't escape my head. It really makes me not feel creative, as well as the weight gain that makes me depressed and hungry constantly. It is hard to keep me in a chair long enough to write a coherent sentence.
4. Mark's documentary is progressing. We just got back from Oklahoma City and are considering taking another trip to LA and possibly Seattle. The documentary premieres exactly two months from now, so there isn't that much left to do, except for make some sense out of the raw footage and promote it. There are several sites dedicated to the project and a few "behind the scenes" shorts on youtube.com. I know that Mark will be so glad when that is over.
5. I am the absolute worst housewife ever. Every day when Mark gets home and asks me how my day went, I look back on it and realized that all of the tiny things I did do not make a difference in the grand scheme of our lives. The house is still a mess, it is dirty and unorganized, I haven't done anything on our list of things to do when we first got married, and it really appears as if I sit around and eat bon-bons all day. In fact, I am running all around town looking for a particular brand of shampoo that no one carries, or writing a bajillion thank you cards, or trying to find receipts so that we can deduct the documentary for our tax purposes (talk about fun...), or any of the other mindless things that people have to find time to do. I feel like my mind is getting soft. The first few weeks of marriage were hard because I had an identity crisis. Now, I am coming out of it, but still feel frazzled like never before. It is definitely a strange sensation, but thank goodness I married Mark. No one else would make me stay sane during this process.
So that's it. Not coherent, but honest as always.
1. Ever since I got married, I have been sick. Mark and I have chronic headaches, stomach viruses, allergies, acid reflux, etc. We can't really figure out what the main cause is, except for an overwhelming move, weight gain, a limited amount of sleep, stress, and major life changes. We are still trying to figure it out, so if you can think of something that we are missing, let me know.
2. That brings me to my next point: weight gain is the most depressing thing in the universe. I blame it on our kitchen (who refuses to stay clean, so we HAVE to eat out every meal) and all of the stress from the past few months. Even though I have identified the culprits, I don't feel any better. I actually hate my body worse than I ever have. My fat jeans are now my jeans. I would vomit if I could. Just kidding, sort of.
3. This whole novel writing thing stinks. I hate formal structure and the feeling of failure that won't escape my head. It really makes me not feel creative, as well as the weight gain that makes me depressed and hungry constantly. It is hard to keep me in a chair long enough to write a coherent sentence.
4. Mark's documentary is progressing. We just got back from Oklahoma City and are considering taking another trip to LA and possibly Seattle. The documentary premieres exactly two months from now, so there isn't that much left to do, except for make some sense out of the raw footage and promote it. There are several sites dedicated to the project and a few "behind the scenes" shorts on youtube.com. I know that Mark will be so glad when that is over.
5. I am the absolute worst housewife ever. Every day when Mark gets home and asks me how my day went, I look back on it and realized that all of the tiny things I did do not make a difference in the grand scheme of our lives. The house is still a mess, it is dirty and unorganized, I haven't done anything on our list of things to do when we first got married, and it really appears as if I sit around and eat bon-bons all day. In fact, I am running all around town looking for a particular brand of shampoo that no one carries, or writing a bajillion thank you cards, or trying to find receipts so that we can deduct the documentary for our tax purposes (talk about fun...), or any of the other mindless things that people have to find time to do. I feel like my mind is getting soft. The first few weeks of marriage were hard because I had an identity crisis. Now, I am coming out of it, but still feel frazzled like never before. It is definitely a strange sensation, but thank goodness I married Mark. No one else would make me stay sane during this process.
So that's it. Not coherent, but honest as always.
Monday, January 22, 2007
A Little Bump in the Road to Happiness
Today was a sad day because I finally turned Rosco over to the animal shelter. This morning was really rainy and wet, and he wasn't in the kennel we left out there for him because there was about two inches of water in the bottom of it. So I went out there in my bathrobe and glasses (in the pouring rain) to feed him and tried to figure out how to keep him dry. Mark suggested to drag the hammock out there to keep him and his food dry, but he kept getting himself wrapped around it and howling like he was dying, so I made another trip out there and took a huge box we had and finally got him out of the rain. However, he learned how to dig holes, so as I watched him through a window, I realized today was the day that we must part. I put him in the back of my car and drove him to the shelter, as he howled so loud in the back seat that I busted out laughing from just how ridiculous the situation was. I pulled into a parking space, took his red collar off that Mark picked out for him, and took him to a toothless chain smoker who told me that he would be fine. I feel horrible, like I just dropped off my child at a boarding school, never to see him again. I just hope there will be someone out here that will love him enough to make him not dig holes and not howl quite as much.
Friday, January 19, 2007
A Short Update
Mark and I are settled (sorta) in our apartment in Lyons. We are foster parents of a rottweiler puppy we named Rosco, but we are looking for a permanent home for him because we are usually gone on the weekends and cannot take him. I will post pictures of him, Buster, our apartment and our wedding later. We are doing fine in Lyons, but there is not a whole lot to do around here. Marriage is fun so far, but we feel more like we are playing house than acting like mature married people.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Leaving What I Know
Starting around the time when I was in middle school, I would pray for my husband. I had a long laundry list of things that I wanted in a husband, down to his height, eye color, hair color, profession, demeanor, etc. I would fall asleep before I rattled off everything, but I am sure that God turned His attention elsewhere before I did. As I got older, I would pray that my current boyfriend would change this or that about his personality so that he could be well-suited for husband material. These were not small character flaws; I would ask for things only God could do, like "Please make him stop selling drugs," or "Please make him stop living in his parents' house," or "Please make him stop shouting profanities at me when he gets mad."
A few years ago, I was dating someone who I thought was the person I was supposed to marry. When I realized that God had not made him stop shouting profanities at me or even love me more (which was another fervent prayer I often did), I decided to change my approach. I prayed that God would take him away if he was not supposed to be mine. This changed my perspective from holding on tightly to the wrong person to releasing the wrong person and allowing the right person to find me. It sounded like a huge move in the faith department, and I guess it was, but when God did take him from me, I was devastated. I had a lot of emotional grief to work through and a lot of soul-searching, but eventually, I did work through it.
After that, I would immediately start praying that prayer when I met someone. That way, I always knew that I was with the right person for the moment, and that if we broke up, God was going to provide me with someone better. When Mark and I found each other in April, I started praying that prayer. We decided that we really were not in the right mindset to date someone, so that provided an opportunity for us to become closer friends than I had ever had with a guy. We told each other things about our lives that we had never really revealed to anyone else, and when we realized that we still had feelings for each other after all of that, we knew we had to be together. I was so skeptical of him from the beginning. I had always liked him in school, but he just did not seem to be the person I had been praying for all of these years. I thought that his genuine care and compassion was an act, his good-humored nature was fleeting, and his love for me was a scam. I realized, finally, that I knew nothing about love or relationships, and God knew that, so he completely ignored my laundry list and gave me exactly what I needed, not asked for.
The process of dating, becoming engaged, and marrying my husband made me realize that I don't know a lot more than I know about myself, relationships, God, and life in general. I do know that God's plan for me defies my logic, is better than anything I could have asked for, and definitely includes Mark. In two days, I am moving to Lyons, GA. We will be there for five months, then we move to Roanoke, VA for six weeks, then we are moving to Los Angeles for a year. If we love it, we will stay longer. If we hate it, we will come back to Lyons because Mark has his job secured after this next year. We don't know how we are going to accomplish any of it, but we are planning on looking out for the path that God has set for us. We both have realized that making a laundry list for God to fulfill limits what He can do for you. It is hard to come to terms with the fact that God does not need you to help Him guide your path in life. Thank God I don't have that ability.
A few years ago, I was dating someone who I thought was the person I was supposed to marry. When I realized that God had not made him stop shouting profanities at me or even love me more (which was another fervent prayer I often did), I decided to change my approach. I prayed that God would take him away if he was not supposed to be mine. This changed my perspective from holding on tightly to the wrong person to releasing the wrong person and allowing the right person to find me. It sounded like a huge move in the faith department, and I guess it was, but when God did take him from me, I was devastated. I had a lot of emotional grief to work through and a lot of soul-searching, but eventually, I did work through it.
After that, I would immediately start praying that prayer when I met someone. That way, I always knew that I was with the right person for the moment, and that if we broke up, God was going to provide me with someone better. When Mark and I found each other in April, I started praying that prayer. We decided that we really were not in the right mindset to date someone, so that provided an opportunity for us to become closer friends than I had ever had with a guy. We told each other things about our lives that we had never really revealed to anyone else, and when we realized that we still had feelings for each other after all of that, we knew we had to be together. I was so skeptical of him from the beginning. I had always liked him in school, but he just did not seem to be the person I had been praying for all of these years. I thought that his genuine care and compassion was an act, his good-humored nature was fleeting, and his love for me was a scam. I realized, finally, that I knew nothing about love or relationships, and God knew that, so he completely ignored my laundry list and gave me exactly what I needed, not asked for.
The process of dating, becoming engaged, and marrying my husband made me realize that I don't know a lot more than I know about myself, relationships, God, and life in general. I do know that God's plan for me defies my logic, is better than anything I could have asked for, and definitely includes Mark. In two days, I am moving to Lyons, GA. We will be there for five months, then we move to Roanoke, VA for six weeks, then we are moving to Los Angeles for a year. If we love it, we will stay longer. If we hate it, we will come back to Lyons because Mark has his job secured after this next year. We don't know how we are going to accomplish any of it, but we are planning on looking out for the path that God has set for us. We both have realized that making a laundry list for God to fulfill limits what He can do for you. It is hard to come to terms with the fact that God does not need you to help Him guide your path in life. Thank God I don't have that ability.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Our Wedding Photos
Here are some pictures of the Ray-Stokes union on December 26th. Mark's brother, Luke, took all of the photos for us and his dad performed the ceremony. I will put some more on the blog later.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Becoming an Honest Woman
Mark and I decided on the 22nd to get married on the 26th, so we are officially married. It was a small ceremony with just our immediate families attending. Our grandmothers didn't even find out until the day after. Mark and I really wanted to be together and we didn't see the point in staying apart just so we could plan a wedding. We are planning a big bash in February to allow everybody to come and celebrate our love for one another. I am sorry if this hurts anybody's feelings, but we couldn't stay apart anymore. We are still technically on our honeymoon, so I will write more later (and post some pictures).
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Yuck!
These are the proofs I got from the company that was taking pictures at the graduation on Saturday. There is nothing worse than seeing a picture of yourself looking disgustingly fat. I can't play my old smoke-and-mirrors game in that black sack. Yuck!
p.s. I am excited that I graduated, but these pictures are not fun.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The End of the Long, Winding Road
This morning was the first morning when I woke up, I thought, "Holy Crap, I am graduating in two days." I have been so stressed out that I haven't had time to really focus and think about what huge milestone this is.
I can barely remember the first day of my college career. I had just turned 18 a few days before and my first class was at 8 a.m. It was Music Theory, a class that I had not qualified for, but my music professor did not want me to fall behind, so he forced me to take it. I dropped out of it, without withdrawing from it, giving me my first "F" ever. I really didn't care though. I hated college, and I really didn't want to go through with it.
Fast forward to two years later, my music professor had felt up me and every other attractive music major and moved to Indiana because there were rumors that he was having an affair with a band member. I decided that school was not for me since I cried every day. I got a job at a bank and that was my first full-time job. I did that for a semester, then quickly signed up for classes the next semester. I was decided to become a Spanish major, so I signed up for Spanish 1001, which was the first Spanish class I had ever taken. I took two years of French in high school, and was awesome in it, but all of the French classes were 8 a.m. classes, so I went for Spanish. I had high hopes of being trilingual. I had a clue that Spanish was not my major when my Spanish teacher laughed when he found out I had declared it.
Then I became discouraged and became a General Studies major, until my boss in University Relations told me that I had a real talent for writing, so I changed to English Communications. Now, I am finally graduating after five and a half years. It feels great, but I feel like I should have a Master's instead of a Bachelor's degree. I feel exhausted and ready to search for what I really want to do in life. This is my new venture. Having Mark by my side and a small sense of security really helps.
I can barely remember the first day of my college career. I had just turned 18 a few days before and my first class was at 8 a.m. It was Music Theory, a class that I had not qualified for, but my music professor did not want me to fall behind, so he forced me to take it. I dropped out of it, without withdrawing from it, giving me my first "F" ever. I really didn't care though. I hated college, and I really didn't want to go through with it.
Fast forward to two years later, my music professor had felt up me and every other attractive music major and moved to Indiana because there were rumors that he was having an affair with a band member. I decided that school was not for me since I cried every day. I got a job at a bank and that was my first full-time job. I did that for a semester, then quickly signed up for classes the next semester. I was decided to become a Spanish major, so I signed up for Spanish 1001, which was the first Spanish class I had ever taken. I took two years of French in high school, and was awesome in it, but all of the French classes were 8 a.m. classes, so I went for Spanish. I had high hopes of being trilingual. I had a clue that Spanish was not my major when my Spanish teacher laughed when he found out I had declared it.
Then I became discouraged and became a General Studies major, until my boss in University Relations told me that I had a real talent for writing, so I changed to English Communications. Now, I am finally graduating after five and a half years. It feels great, but I feel like I should have a Master's instead of a Bachelor's degree. I feel exhausted and ready to search for what I really want to do in life. This is my new venture. Having Mark by my side and a small sense of security really helps.
Monday, December 04, 2006
I Might Hate This Week
Yesterday I did some intensive reading about Joyce, and even though I don't have the best handle on him, I get some of it. I feel somewhat better about him, and I really do like his work. It is just really compact, leaving it hard to unravel and research. I think my thesis will go something like this: "The female characters represent a part of Gabriel's struggle with Ireland, with his wife, Gretta, representing the purest part of Ireland, and through her he realizes that by hating Ireland, he loses the purest part of himself." Or something like that anyway. The paper is due tomorrow, but I have done all of my research, so it is just a matter of putting it all together today. Wish me luck.
But, I still hate Spanish, and in about an hour I am going to have to tell a story in Spanish that I have yet to memorize. I don't really give a ham sandwich about it anymore.
Oh, and I start my period on Wednesday. Nice.
But, I still hate Spanish, and in about an hour I am going to have to tell a story in Spanish that I have yet to memorize. I don't really give a ham sandwich about it anymore.
Oh, and I start my period on Wednesday. Nice.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I Hate This Week
I just want to say that I hate this week: December 2 through December 9. If I don't jump off of a building, I will graduate next Saturday.
I also hate James Joyce, people too scared to write anything academic about him, British Literature teachers who give two papers during finals week, and the Norton Anthology for adding Joyce to the book.
I hate Spanish 4, memorizing Spanish stories, and anything subjunctive.
I hate Fitzgerald and T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land," and Ezra Pound. And, no, I don't think that April is the cruelest month.
I hate teachers who do not teach a single thing all semester. I hate the financial aid department at Armstrong. (They didn't do anything recently, but they are sorry in the general sense.)
I hate the campus police who insist on giving me tickets when I refuse to buy a $50 decal for one more semester. It's non-sensical. It's nunsense.
That's all for now.
I also hate James Joyce, people too scared to write anything academic about him, British Literature teachers who give two papers during finals week, and the Norton Anthology for adding Joyce to the book.
I hate Spanish 4, memorizing Spanish stories, and anything subjunctive.
I hate Fitzgerald and T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land," and Ezra Pound. And, no, I don't think that April is the cruelest month.
I hate teachers who do not teach a single thing all semester. I hate the financial aid department at Armstrong. (They didn't do anything recently, but they are sorry in the general sense.)
I hate the campus police who insist on giving me tickets when I refuse to buy a $50 decal for one more semester. It's non-sensical. It's nunsense.
That's all for now.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Directionally Challenged
I have always been very aware of my surroundings. It could be that my parents always taught me know where I am at all times in case someone tries to steal me or otherwise brutalize me in any form. Thankfully, I never had to use my navigational skills in that capacity, but I did retain that grounded feeling of always having my bearings in no time flat. New York, Dublin, and Atlanta are all very familiar places to me. I went out in a rickshaw in Mumbai by myself when I was 17 and didn't feel at all worried, and I always knew where my hotel was in relation to where I was. I think I have made my point.
However, when it comes to the direction that I want my life to go, the directions elude me. Mark and I have been talking a lot about this aimlessness I sometimes possess because it gets more complicated when your muffled directions cause another person's pristine guide to their life to become not so clear. Since Mark and I are going to Hollins University for the summer, he suggested that I enroll in some creative writing classes. Hollins is one of the best creative writing programs in the nation (or the world, as Mark says), so I would probably get a lot out of it. The best part is that the application process is very much portfolio based, which is good for me because my GPA and my GRE scores indicate that I have a mental handicap. So, if I want to be considered for the program (whether it be creative writing, children's literature, playwriting, or screenwriting), I have to have a banging portfolio.
This leads to the problem: my portfolio stinks. I haven't written anything worth looking at a second time since, well, forever. Specifically, it has been at least a year since I have written anything in any sort of structured or peer-reviewed atmosphere. I have a perfect opportunity to write and get feedback from excellent writers and well-read academic critical thinkers with my blog, but I am afraid of the people I truly care about on this planet thinking that I have no talent. But, this is an opportunity to produce writing (which is what I want to do) and get feedback, and I have the motivation of a graduate school application deadline (January 6 for creative writing and February 15 for all the others).
So, I am going to start posting poems, prose, non-fiction and sometimes self-deprecating works. I am working on a poem that borders on children's literature, but I just got too scared to post it yet. Maybe tomorrow.
However, when it comes to the direction that I want my life to go, the directions elude me. Mark and I have been talking a lot about this aimlessness I sometimes possess because it gets more complicated when your muffled directions cause another person's pristine guide to their life to become not so clear. Since Mark and I are going to Hollins University for the summer, he suggested that I enroll in some creative writing classes. Hollins is one of the best creative writing programs in the nation (or the world, as Mark says), so I would probably get a lot out of it. The best part is that the application process is very much portfolio based, which is good for me because my GPA and my GRE scores indicate that I have a mental handicap. So, if I want to be considered for the program (whether it be creative writing, children's literature, playwriting, or screenwriting), I have to have a banging portfolio.
This leads to the problem: my portfolio stinks. I haven't written anything worth looking at a second time since, well, forever. Specifically, it has been at least a year since I have written anything in any sort of structured or peer-reviewed atmosphere. I have a perfect opportunity to write and get feedback from excellent writers and well-read academic critical thinkers with my blog, but I am afraid of the people I truly care about on this planet thinking that I have no talent. But, this is an opportunity to produce writing (which is what I want to do) and get feedback, and I have the motivation of a graduate school application deadline (January 6 for creative writing and February 15 for all the others).
So, I am going to start posting poems, prose, non-fiction and sometimes self-deprecating works. I am working on a poem that borders on children's literature, but I just got too scared to post it yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday, November 20, 2006
What makes an executive producer?
Let me give some background information to this post. Mark is making his first documentary on Dub Taylor, a prolific Western actor who is not known by his name, but is known by his face and laugh. Ever since we reconnected in April, he has been making connections and doing the groundwork for a successful documentary.
Shortly after we started dating officially in July, I was able to go with him and his "executive producer," James, to an interview with Dixie Carter and Buck Taylor. I was his rock, his one source of sanity throughout the trip because everyone else was annoying at times.
The next time he set up an interview in Augusta, I dutifully went with him on two separate occasions and charmed the pants off of a handful of old cowboys. Could Mark have done that by himself? I think not.
Then, I provided resources for Mark to interview David Zucker when he came to Savannah. Sure, "James the executive producer" went with him and provided a camera for B-roll footage, but I gave Mark directions and we all know how priceless good directions are for Mark.
However, where was James when Mark set up an interview with Bobby Copeland, a western writer? Not in Oak Ridge, TN (home of the nuclear bomb). I was up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday, on the first day of my period with cramps that would crush a watermelon, feeding Tylenol Sinus to Mark and Midol to myself and driving all the way home in the middle of the night. That, my friends, is dedication.
I thought it was time to negotiate an executive producer credit after all of this hard work, but Mark said that executive producers give $2000 to the project. Where is James's $2000? I think that if we totalled up all of the love and support and time I have INVESTED in this project, there would be more than enough to suffice the requirements needed to be an executive producer.
Shortly after we started dating officially in July, I was able to go with him and his "executive producer," James, to an interview with Dixie Carter and Buck Taylor. I was his rock, his one source of sanity throughout the trip because everyone else was annoying at times.
The next time he set up an interview in Augusta, I dutifully went with him on two separate occasions and charmed the pants off of a handful of old cowboys. Could Mark have done that by himself? I think not.
Then, I provided resources for Mark to interview David Zucker when he came to Savannah. Sure, "James the executive producer" went with him and provided a camera for B-roll footage, but I gave Mark directions and we all know how priceless good directions are for Mark.
However, where was James when Mark set up an interview with Bobby Copeland, a western writer? Not in Oak Ridge, TN (home of the nuclear bomb). I was up at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday, on the first day of my period with cramps that would crush a watermelon, feeding Tylenol Sinus to Mark and Midol to myself and driving all the way home in the middle of the night. That, my friends, is dedication.
I thought it was time to negotiate an executive producer credit after all of this hard work, but Mark said that executive producers give $2000 to the project. Where is James's $2000? I think that if we totalled up all of the love and support and time I have INVESTED in this project, there would be more than enough to suffice the requirements needed to be an executive producer.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Totally Unrelated to All Things Wedding
I have really enjoyed my survey classes of British and American Lit. I just wanted to share some of my favorites that I have been reading lately.
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
In a Station of the Metro
by Ezra Pound
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
Leda and the Swan
by W. B. Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
In a Station of the Metro
by Ezra Pound
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
Leda and the Swan
by W. B. Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
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