Time

Time is absolutely astounding. Why is that minutes drag on and, yet, years seem to fly by faster than I can comprehend? For me, this year has completely changed my perceptions on time. A year ago right now I was finishing up my time as an undergrad at North Carolina State University, falling madly in love and getting ready to embark on my westward adventure to Eugene, Oregon. A year later, I find myself entering a state of liminality again. I am gathering my self, my thoughts, my shoes and all of my sunglasses and hitching a ride on the Westerlies blowing me on home to North Carolina.

I am at place in time where I feel it is necessary to evaluate this year. Perhaps it is all the evaluation material from Hillel International that is encouraging those thoughts, yet I'd rather write here and procrastinate than recount the programs and series I have coordinated (This is more fun, anyhow). And while a year has passed, one would think, surely, something has changed. Yes, I moved straight across the country. Yes, I began living all by myself, a venture I had yet to experience. But, after almost a year since graduation from NCSU, I feel I am right back where I started, maybe just a little wiser and worse for the wear.

I feel that a year ago I was open to every new opportunity I could get my hands on. Moreso, I was ready and willing to go where the wind blew me, sure of my ability to adapt and grow. Well, the wind blew pretty hard and at times I really felt more like a lost, little leaf rather than a purpose-filled seedling (sprout, grow, adapt...I like that metaphor). But there are a few things that I did learn and still learning. I am not quite sure the expanse of it all as of yet. I am, however, sure that in my years to come, lessons will reveal themselves and I will say, "Ah Ha! That is what that was all about!" and be grateful of my time here.

As time passes, I believe everyone gets the pang that it is neccessary to mark and measure time. But what is the appropriate measure for a year? Jonathan Larson might have suggested measuring, "In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife, in 525,600 minutes."

My suggestion (for today) for measuring a year is in the seeds that one sows. It is the seeds of friendship, love and knowledge that one plants through the interactions you have in the year. With every person you come into contact with you are presented an opportunity to sow a seed.

As for the seeds I have sown, I don't think I can count that high.

Word of the Day

Word of the Day for Monday, February 20th, 2006:
malaise \muh-LAYZ; -LEZ\, noun:
1. A vague feeling of discomfort in the body, as at the onset of illness.
2. A general feeling of depression or unease.
used in a sentence:
"He fell in love with Modotti's sad beauty and her indecipherable character, and he saw in her the same vague subtle malaise that made him feel like a stranger to life.
-- Pino Cacucci, Tina Modotti: A Life


Malaise is one of the perfect words I would use to describe what has been going on in everyone's life it seems.
This one's for the sickies!

MALAISE:
I feel like everyone is sick or broken or crashing into cough syrup.
Mommy's back is out like trout.
Taylor's cough is rough.
Cori and David are just sharing their germs and funk.
And just this morning, my throat was scratchy.
I thought it was catchy,
So I decided to stay in bed.

You put the tea on and
Turn the overhead off.
Get the pink fuzzy robe
and start to cough.
The kettle whistles
and I shoot missles
Of snot rags through the air.

Roll out of bed,
Brush my hair,
Wash the face
But I don't care,
Because today is a sick day
So, lay.
Lay back down,
And call in.

Truly,
Sara Ellen Bryan

Are you on the inside or the ouside?

Today my brother, Jamie, sent me a link to one of the films on the Sundance Film Festival website.
I asked, "What is this?"
He responds, "It's about Barbie and the Jewish people. It's called 'The Tribe'."
Seeing that Barbie and I go way back and I'm in the Tribe, I was, without a doubt, intrigued.
What did my little plastic W.A.S.P. childhood friend have to do with Jews?

As I wait for the film to buffer on my Mac, I read the incredibly short and vague description:
"An unorthodox, unauthorized of the Jewish people and the Barbie doll."
Using the template found in forwarded mass emails (I think my father sent me that one), the narrator begins by equating planet Earth to a tribe of 100 people. Within said tribe, there would be 60 Asians, 14 North and South Americans, 13, Africans, and 12 Europeans. 30 tribe members would be Christian, 18 would be Muslims, there would be 13 Hindus, 6 Buddhists and 33 who were of other faiths. Of these 33 others, 1/4 of one would be Jewish. Within this 1/4 of 15, we would find Ruth Handler, the creator of the Barbie Doll; this is where we begin.

From here, we are wisked away on synapse-fired, word-associated travel through the history of the Jews and the Barbie. Delving into tribe and subtribe theory, the movie higlights the most interesting aspect of being inside or outside mainstream culture.One could argue that the Jews are the perennial outsiders. However, when you are always the outsider,(stay with me, folks!) does that not make you the "inside" outsider?

However, the part that I found the most moving was the poetry slam, expertly spit by Vanessa Hidary. She performed sections of her poem, "Hebrew Mamita," as the closing words of 'The Tribe." Chills coursed through my veins and inexplicable tears welled. Still, I cannot set my finger on exactly why I reacted the way I did; all I know is that it was profound. Please check out Vanessa Hidary's site, www.hebrewmamita.com, and emerse yourself in her words. They are truly amazing.

So, I know you want the link...I hope it is still up:
http://festival.sundance.org/2006/watch/film.aspx?which=423&category=DOC
Also, at the Sundance Film Festival site are other award-winning and notable short films. Grab a cup of tea or, even better, a glass of wine and enjoy!

Chocolates are yummy, and lilies are pink...

Valentine's Day isn't as bad as I think.

Or wasn't as bad as I thought! To be honest, I had quite a lovely little Valentine's Day. It could have only been better had I been with my Valentine and my family.

And the inferiority complex begins..

This morning I received my first Valentine of this red-pink glitter season. It was from Taylor's parents, Alice and Lee and their Corgi, Pippin. I am very lucky to have such wonderful family in my life. However, upon opening this sweet little Valentine, I am reminded of Valentine's Days past. I believe this holiday looks at us expectantly, crossed-arms, eyebrows raised, asking, "How much are you loved?" It questions not of who you love, rather of the number of those who love you.

I remember the elementary memories of filling out my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle valentines, making sure my puppy love crush got the one with Rafael. (Truly, my crush would understand Rafael's quiet intensity and see the quiet intensity of my adoration for his amazing jungle gym skills and bowl-cut hair.) I recall the butterfly excitement, delivering each valentine with care, even for the girl who always smelled different but had these amazing dimples. We would have a small and sugary class party involving cookie decoration and most importantly, the ripping apart of tiny little envelopes revealing the amount of requisite love we have received that year. From all of my recollections, I never endured the devastation of unrequited Ninja Turtle valentine love; I always got a valentine from my crush, even if it was because we all had to give one to each classmate.

To be honest, save for two dry years (seventh grade and senior year of college), I always had a "valentine." I guess that should not qualify me as a bitter, black clothes wearing, valentine emo kid. Rather, I should be a frothy, frilly, pink as cupid's tush cupcake of love. And while I have the best Valentine I have ever had this year (smoochie boochies, Taylor!), I still cringe at this holiday. I guess it started with one of my first real valentines years ago. My first real Valentine's Day was precious and adorable filled with an 8th grade dance and tissue paper flowers. I even got a pink carnation love-o-gram. But the next year, same said valentine was still my valentine, but he forgot; he flat out forgot about Valentine's Day, ignoring the hot pink aisles of romance standing as sentinels at every Harris Teeter, Target or Hallmark in the suburban shopping centers of Charlotte, North Carolina. While in retrospect, his lack of driving and monetary resources probably had something to do with this, but this whole event has since marked me as a cynic of this holiday. I am a hard-line believer in the fact that this holiday is now a cash-cow for the card and candy companies and has instilled a slight inferiority complex in many of us, myself included.


The following statement will be said, written, posted and sighed a whole lot in the next 24 to 36 hours:
"Why do we wait to show our love on Valentine's Day? Everyday we should show our loved ones that they are cared for." However, I believe there is a part of each of us that craves that hallmark validation. We want to open our valentines and feel that this year, more than any year before, we are loved. The truth is that in order to truly celebrate this holiday correctly, we should use this day to make sure everyone we love and care for knows that we love and care for them. Likewise, we should not measure our Valentine's Day success by the number of cards and flowers and candies we receive but by the number of people we can call up, send an email, write a card, give a hug to and know that they truly feel the love we have for them.

So, tonight I will be making a lot of little cards for all the people who need to know I :heart: them.
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Truly,
Sara Ellen Bryan

Look at my pretty flower...

Test one two....
Test.

So, thanks to Steven Neuman, I have this lovely little blog, magnolia blossom and all. Perhaps this is my own mini-ego trip, having my thoughts and musings published online for all to dig or not.

Welcome to my new endeavor.
Enjoy!

Truly,
Sara Ellen Bryan