Take Me.

"Life inside the music box ain't easy;

The mallots hit the gears are always turning,

And everyone inside the mechanism

Is yearning to get out,

And sing another melody completely...

So different from the one they're always singing.

I close my eyes and think that i have found me,

But then i feel mortality sorround.

I want to sing another melody,

So different from the one i always sing."

- Music Box, Regina Spektor

"Allyson. I hurt."

It's weekends like this I hate being so far far from people I care so much about. All I have to offer is words. Usually words are enough for me. I love words. However, I feel so helpless over the phone. I want to offer my presence as a means of comfort, not just words.

I hurt, because she hurts.

My instant "fix the situation" mode has kicked in, and so sitting here at my desk helpless, while she sits hours away does no good. There's a passage I want to post here, but I cannot find my little book of passages I hold close to my heart. Therefore, if you're reading this, I will text you this passage because I am not the only one that loves you.

There are two more parts to this blog.

One. A few weeks ago, the MVL choir sang at the church I attend. This was weird for me, because it's the first time I had seen another school do their Sunday program at a church since I had been in high school. I was excited, and it was all very good.... but it was weird. They sang five songs before the sermon, and then they left. Literally... they left the building. This strikes me as so odd, because of the routine that was pounded into my head throughout my high school choir days. We sang throughout the whole service, delivered the readings, sang the psalm, and stayed to greet before and after each service. (I like our way better) Anyway, they sang one song that I particularly enjoyed. Upon This Rock.

Finally, in band we were given two new, more meaningful pieces the other day to play for the part of our concert in which we remember a guy who survived the Hiroshima bombing. Or something like that, please don't be offended that I didn't listen to the whole story. As soon as my director mentioned Hiroshima my mind was immediately singing Ben Folds.

(The song he writes entirely about falling of the stage at a concert in Hiroshima. It's hilarious...)

Anyway, one of the songs was Salvation Is Created. Now, this is a very large piece to tackle. Not because of it's difficultly, just because it has so much power behind it, and you have to be careful not to damage it's flawless melody. It's particularly close to French Horn player's hearts. I got third part this time around, which was odd because the second horn part is cemented in my head, but I was okay with this. The girl who sits next to me (which happens to be the only person in my section with whom I enjoy talking), had the same reaction as I. Utter joy, and yet much hesitation. We both had such strong memories associated with this piece, we didn't want to beat those down.

So, we played the song a few times, and all I could think about is Vanguard. ALL I could think about. For some reason, this mental image of the percussion section with their hats off, heads bowed, and drum sticks crossed and rested in front of them flooded my mind. This mental image of the band in their semicircle formation, brass blaring out, while the crowd dared not to make a sound just took over my being. This was like, my childhood.

So, when we finished the song, and the girl next to me wiped her eyes and said, "Sorry, this song makes me cry." I replied with, "No, I completely understand. Completely understand." I assured her my mom cries every time too.

And at that moment, as she wiped her eyes and I let my goosebumps settle, I felt I had reached a deeper friendship with her. Some place I don't even know if I've been able to venture with many people I call my closest friends here.

Powerful thing, music is.

Rad: The fact that this same girl was wearing a Threadless T-shirt. I thought it was, but I wasn't positive, so I simply asked where she got her shirt. She replied with Threadless, and I had a major geek-out moment.

Unrad: The impersonality of virtual hugs.

Oh, we decided to play the other song instead of Salvation. This is an okay thing. The other one has a quite obvious, beautiful horn part as well. And less memories. Good stuff, folks.

Edit: Holy man. I read over this blog a few hours later and found so many grammatical errors. Sorry bud.

I've Got That Stylish Fever.

"In nature there's no blemish but the mind;
None can be called deformed but the unkind."

- Twelfth Night

That last blog was icky poo. I shall move it down with this slightly less icky post.

Firstly, I just got back from a wonderful performance of Twelfth Night. Can I please be a nerd and continue to post quotes?

"Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are."

"He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies." 3.2

"I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit." 1,3

"Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage." 1.5

Take note that some of these quotes I picked because it was their delivery that made them stand out to me, rather than my reading of it. Anyway, I love this play. Moving on...

I am sick. I think. I've started pounding the Emergen-C, so hopefully this will prevent it from progressing faster and growing more severe. I am not telling you this as a mere request of sympathy, rather I bring it up to point out a quirk of mine that was recenty brought to my attention.

Oh. Gosh. I'm reading everything I type in my head with a Shakespearian accent. Mwuahaha. This is kind of fun. I have the jester's voice in my head. He also played one of the princes in Into The Woods (which happen to be one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite musicals), therefore I was a fan quite immediately of his part in Twelfth Night.

I shan't digress...

Sick. Me. Quirk. Back on track. Kay. SO...

When you're sick, and feel like crap, you just lounge about like a dying piece of meat around your house, right? This usually involves the comfiest clothes you own, like sweatpants or pajamas. If you absolutely must go out, you usually whip on your glasses and a sweatshirt, right? Well, I feel this is what I used to do. However, this is no longer the case. I noticed senior year of high school, that when I get sick, I take extra time on what I'm wearing for the day, and how I look. The days my friends would say, "You look cute today!" were usually the days I felt a large piece of my insides were being engulfed by death. It started out that I did it once or twice, just to try and hide that fact I was hosting a war of misery inside my body. I didn't make this connection until college, however, and now it has just become habit of mine to look better when I feel sick.

So, the other day when my friend said, "You look cute, why are you so dressed up?"

I non-hesitantly replied with, "I'm sick."

*cough. cough* ****

I feel as though this may be abnormal. Is this abnormal?

Rad: This. Is. SO. True. My new (well, mostly just less dead looking) hair color. Shakespeare. Letters.

Unrad: Sickness. Avoiding mistakes.

**** UNAVOIDABLE MEAN GIRL REFERENCE.

I Make No Sense. Carrots.

"I've never really been in love and that is fine by me. I'll sit at home and refine the person I want to be."

OH gosh! Life doesn't slow down! This week was supposed to be allyson-is-actually-going-to-for-real-catch-up-on-things week. However, I am not going to bore you with the relentless schedule of yours truly.

This picture has probably been relevant for my entire life. Sigh.

I did, however greatly enjoy the We The Kings concert. It was quite intense, and my body was deprived of comfortable needed functions for a very long time, but I've recovered folks. Between nearly frost bitten, to being the hottest I have been since the heat of summer, to ignoring bathroom needs because reaching the bathroom was impossible once you entered the mass of people, to not even remembering the last time I ate food of any sort... I was pretty okay with all of these things. I don't have great appreciation for many mainstream bands, but I've been fully convinced that We The Kings are legit. We stayed after and met them. They are great people, as well.

I've tried to label my taste in music so many times. How do you label a girl who would appreciate sitting in a small cafe listening to Iron & Wine as much as losing her ear drums listening to Muse in a giant arena? Add that with everything heard of and unheard of in-between, and it's just not possible. I used to have this massive list of my favorite artists back in the days of MySpace. This got too cluttered. Then I forced myself to have a list of five solid artists. This proved itself worthy of longevity... for a bit. After this, I said I like a lot of different things, pretty much anything. Then I make myself sound like a girl who's music taste doesn't extend from what's played on the radio. After this, I simply said my "favorite music" was too long of a list. More recently, I attempted a list again. This didn't last long, as I remembered time after time artists I wanted to add.

Finally, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have discovered a label for my taste in music. Under my "favorite music" tab on facebook now, I have describe it as eclectic.

This describes my taste in a wide variety of music, with a word that makes it sound at least a little bit intelligent.

Eclectic. I like this word.

So, two nights ago I had to do something that I wasn't particularly fond of, and don't always completely agree with. However, the better part of me knows it was the right thing to do... I think. Really, it's hard for me too... this break up of sorts. I promise, I have not become one of those cryptic girls who talks about her problems so vaguely like she doesn't want people to know, but secretly she's waiting to dish to everyone who asks. I just am unsure who will all read this, and I don't want to add fuel to fire. I just want to let those who have kept up on things in my life, that I did this breaking up of sorts. Everything is blowing up, and I'm trying to handle it as best as possible. All is not well, but it will be soon. I pray.

I've been receiving a lot more feedback on my blog recently, and it's a little bit intimidating. I almost feel a tinge of pressure to write something actually worth while. I may not though, just to warn you. Some days, little thought process goes into the fancied thoughts regurgitated from this ol' brain of mine. Most days I write in this as a means of therapy, kind of... because I have to write, as opposed to actually having something to say.

Random CrAzY FUN FACTS!

I'm still chugging along in the Harry Potter series. Class discussion is

becoming intriguing.

I just learned Promise the Stars on my uke, I'll sing harmony and Stacy will

sing melody. It's fun. :]

LOST LOST LOST

Rad: LOST. Michael Buble's voice... and face.

Unrad: Not being able to watch Lost with Jeff and Matt after Lancer Singers with popcorn and explaining every little thing to Matt, because some people are just a little slower than others. ;]]

Also, Break-ups of sorts.

eye luff ewe.

"Make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall."

"People always think something's all true."

"Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around—nobody big, I mean—except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff—I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I’d do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be. I know it’s crazy."

Perhaps you don't recognize the picture of this man in his earlier years. Perhaps you wouldn't recognize one of him taken two days ago, either. What you would recognize is his name. This unfamiliar face is that of Jerome David Salinger, better known as J.D. Salinger.

J. D. Salinger died yesterday at the age of 91.

Sure, you may not care much, but I really felt I wanted... needed... to write something... anything.... about it.

Most famous for Catcher and the Rye, Salinger was highly criticized for some of his works. He was called crazy, insane, inappropriate. Some of his works were just downright depressing. However, they were acclaimed as brilliant, inspiring, and deeply thought provoking by so many others. Now, I'm not saying he needed the often harsh words to get his point across, but I am saying that he had a fantastic mind that he shared with the world through his literature, and for that thousands upon thousands have been (and will continue to be) impacted through.

"It's everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so--I don't know--not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid, necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless--and sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you're conforming just as much as everybody else, only in a different way." -Franny and Zooey

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you'll start missing everybody."

"Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them — if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry."

You should pick up and read something by him. If Catcher and the Rye is not your taste, I understand. Franney and Zooey is a fantastic piece of literature. Some of his short stories, like For Esme - With Love, are the best works of prose out there. Whatever your opinion is on the man, I respect that.

He has left us with a little piece of his mind and soul in each and every one of his stories.

And as of now, that is all we have left of him.

I pray he is with our Savior in heaven, revealing to all deceased believers the wonders of the new iPad.

xx

Lost Travels

I took this picture last March when Alyson and I spent Spring Break in Nashville. We miss it, very much so. Therefore, we have decided to road trip it back down there in May. Glorious news, folks. Glorious. I am SO willing to wake up at 5 am to go see Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman getting their post-workout java.

Anywho, I went to a new Christian bible study type group thing last night with some friends. They happened to be having the genders meet separately, as they do every so often. So it was just a cozy atmosphere with a bunch of girls having hot chocolate and cheesecake sitting by the fireplace listening to the speaker. It was SO GOOD. The topic was on contentment. Contentment is one of those topics that finds its way into relating with every single living human being, regardless of their situation. The beginning was kind of humorous, because she was showing us pictures of some things that make many girls content. She had a few pictures of things like chocolate, coffee, and adorable puppies... but the last picture showed a groom holding a bride. The whole room simultaneously just let out this longing sigh.

"I hit something there, didn't I?" She said, smiling.

Stacy and I just smiled at each other. Oh the complexity, yet simplicity of the female mind.

She also had a pillow from when she was younger with all the things that make her feel earthy contentment sewn in. It was such a neat idea. This is one of my favorite passages from the night,

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Phillipians 4:12

Yesterday I listened to some songs from Aaron and Cora's wedding cd, and I remembered how much I love love Raging Sea by Michael W. Smith. Therefore, I absolutely need to post the lyrics.

"Sometimes the journey makes you weary,

Feels like a long and winding road.
Sometimes this life can lose it's meaning,
But you might be surprised to find some hope.
Maybe you're wondering where love is,
You may feel it's far away from here.
Maybe you're wondering where I am,
You might be surprised to find I'm near.

And when your life is tossed and turning,
And your on the raging sea,
I'll come and pull you from the water
Then you will know that you are free.

So if you're stumbling through the valley,
Or if you're tempted to give up the fight,
Reach out your hand and I will lead you,
I will be your strong arm in the night."

One more topic. Lost. The final season starts one week from today, folks. One week. It's quite bittersweet, but all good things must come to an end, as I suppose 'they' say. This is good and right that it ends now, otherwise it would just be too long. Being the hopelessly nostalgic person I am, I am kind of sad I don't get to watch the final season with my Lost boys and Mommy back home. However, the final episode airs May 23. This means I'll get to watch at least 2-3 of the final episodes with my original Lost buds and my mommy. Also, I do have a Lost boy up here at college to watch it with, so everything will be okay until I go home. No worries, children.

Benjamin Linus is kind of like the Lost version of Severus Snape. Don't you agree?

Alright, this is about all for now. I pretty much adore you.

Rad: Life.

Unrad: Almost having to buy a new lab manual.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" - Albus Dumbledore

I prefer the snail to your finger typing.

Sleep deprivation leads me to stay up longer at night for no apparent reason. However, this is when I do most of my thinking and writing. So, it works out well in the end. One night this week as a result of my unwillingness to crawl in bed despite my body's inner yearning for rest, I opened my closet door, reached for the top shelf, and pulled out a small rubbermaid jam packed with letters.

I blew a small trace of dust off the top, and pried the cover off until letters of every color revealed themselves for the first time since summer. Contained in this box were light, nonsensical letters, deep meaningful letters, colored dinosaurs, letters from friends back home, letters from friends at camp, letters from secret encouragers, getting to know you letters, letters that meant the world, and letters that meant next to nothing. Also kept in this box are a few of my favorite Staff growth handouts, and articles. I kept them all. These were a few things I went through.

Scroll upon scroll, and the tan envelopes used by this person after he ran out of scrolls. His letters were something I looked forward to every single day at one point of the summer. We wrote so often that we couldn't afford going through camps daily inter-camp mail delivery. This was time consuming, but worth it. I saved every single one, but let me tell you. Scrolls are hard to not completely squish.

Letters from Krista. Always a day brightener. Some were inter-camp, some were from home on the weeks she wasn't Jr. Staffing. Just to give you an example of how amazing this girl is, two summers ago we met because we did a week together on Jr. Staff. Our night off reflection got pretty personal, as they usually do, and I remember her reflection answer perfectly. It was everything I wanted to say, but was too scared to admit. Well, I thanked her for saying what she did and the next day she sent me a letter that said "Allyson, you are SUCH an inspiration to me." Goodness knows I didn't deserve that, I'd known her only for a matter of days.

We always seem to find our selves in similar situations, and I believe this is when we really started to bond. One of her letters ends with this passage that I'll share,

"We are hard-pressed on every side but not crushed;perplexed but not in despair;persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed." 2 Cor. 4:8,9

Letters from a girl who happened to be hopelessly falling for a boy back home. She writes, "About a month ago, I was talking to (boy) on Fbook about how boring my job is. So he was all, 'Well you could text me...' So I was like, 'Well (boy), I'd need your phone number to text you...' So we started talking every day." In a different part of the letter she writes, "In church on Sunday, (boy) made this goal to actual talk to me. I was busy talking to tons of people, so RIGHT before his family was leaving he came up to me and was like,

'Hi.'

'Hi.' - Me

'Bye.' -Him

'Bye.' - Me

(but it was all cute and nervous and nerdy)"

I'll have you know, this boy and girl have officially been a couple for a few months now. ;]]

Matt's letter. This letter places in the top three of my summer. I read it again, and laughed even harder than when I received last summer. Filled with inside jokes, awkward rambles, and barely readable handwriting, this letter was probably one of the first he's written in his life. And I love him for it.

Risa's letters from back home, which made us realize we should have become closer a long time ago. Kim's letters filled with stickers for four year old's.

Letters from Hannah, the one I remember most had the sentence 'ALLYSON, MAKE ME APPLY FOR SALT STAFF' about ten times throughout the letter. This winter when I talked with her, she was hesitant, as she and I both knew she would be. However, I do believe her application is well on it's way. :]

A copy of the fox chapter from our Little Prince staff growth.

A letter I waited for.

A letter from two staffers who paired you up with someone else other than your prayer partner to answer a few unusual questions to get to know each other better. Mine was address to Adam and I. Adam, do you remember my favorite flower? Or how often I think about building tree forts? Or my perfect sock? I remember yours. But it says we had to come up with a secret handshake. ADAM, WE HAD A SECRET HANDSHAKE?! I cannot remember this, how could we forget this handshake. How can I remember your perfect sock, but not our secret handshake?!

...and many MANY more letters, drawn pictures, and muse from several different people. I love everything.

This was a longer blog, mostly for my benefit. Sorry if none of this means anything to any of you, I didn't really mean it to. Man, I'm selfish.

Rad: The fact that Autumn served T SWIFT yesterday at Starbucks.

Unrad: Making your son kill his hamster with a hammer for bad grades. Seriously.

Slow Motion

"Dear God,

You are officially classy. Catch me when I jump.

Thanks.

Love, Krista"

My dear dear friend Krista has a prayer at the end of every one of her blogs. This is her most recent. It made me smile, and I love her so much. She just sent in her camp application, one of around 16 first year girls applying for 4 spots. I'm nervous for them, because so many of them are some of the most beautiful, influential, talented girls in my life. So many more than four of them deserve to be on staff this year, there just aren't the spots. I, for one, am glad I'm not doing the hiring. Pray, pray, pray.

I'm wearing my brewer baseball cap today. It giving this dusk, dreary, damp day a feeling of summer nostalgia. Spring Training is, after all, right around the corner. ;]

Today I was in one of the bathrooms in the library, and discovered that all of the metal wastebaskets attached to the paper towel dispensers had a thick layer of duck tape over them, forcing you to throw your paper towels away in the plastic waste basket by the door. Upon discovering this, I tapped the duck tape on each waste basket and discovered they all had different pitches. So, for a few minutes I stood alone in the 2nd floor library bathroom tapping out different rhythms for my own enjoyment.

We shall meet again, 2nd floor bathroom.

Next time I shall inconspicuously sneak in drum sticks.

This could result in awkward confrontations.

I'm really confused right now. I think I'm taking life too seriously at the moment. However, I think life is moving too fast right now. This is a contributing factor to each of my aforementioned problems. Does anybody know how to slow life down? Adding friction. That's how you slow things down. Also, asthma attacks. Broken Limbs. Perhaps lathering peanut butter on the ground? Breaking a tree branch? I will try these things.

... I have no peanut butter.

You just wait life, soon I will be able to come at you with peanut butter and a plastic biodegradable knife. Huzzah! A slower life is just ahead!

I'm sitting downstairs of the CSU as I write this, by the massive fireplace. Since I've started writing, Death Cab and Ingrid Michaelson have been played over the speakers. Right now Ingrid's song "Everybody" is playing. I love this song, and her. She makes me smile.

Rad: This comic. Also, girl's night tonight.

Unrad: Weekends that disappear in the blink of an eye.