Grind it, brew it, smell it, drink it

Melodies of angsty indie bands and lovesick guys with guitars weave in and out of and over the conversations of college students.

"Did you see my facebook status?"
"Okay, this is cram central guys."
"The homework is due when?"

The rich aroma of coffee lingers. Wooden tables hold outrageously-priced cups of White Chocolate Mocha and Chai Lattes and books splayed open and wrinkled sheets of notebook paper. Laptops sit open-faced, giving off their blue-ish glow. Fingers type furiously the English papers, the physics homework, the love letters, the instant messages.

The tentacles of iPods reach up to ears that don't want to hear the conversations or the angsty indie bands or the lovesick guitar guys. The dress code is simple: hoodies, t-shirts, jeans.

Welcome to your local university coffee house. The House Blend is on special.

I Want a Sunday Kind of Love

So, it's Sunday. Which is awesome. Because I've got my coffee. And my slow start to the day. And my conversations with God. And it's sunny.

American Idol, what what

So, love me, hate me, judge me, whatever, I love me some American Idol. It's seriously an addiction for me. I really don't watch that much television, but each year, when Idol starts revving up, I'm on board once again.

I guess it's a mix of reasons that draws me: it's that I'm a lover of music (although some would argue that AI is NOT a program for music lovers) and can't get enough of it on any given day, it's that I'm a sucker and I want to learn about these wannabes and commiserate with them and hate them along with the rest of America and it's that it's entertaining.

Anyway, I wasn't the biggest fan of this year's group until they sang Grand Ole Opry tunes on Tuesday, and pretty much everyone stepped up his or her game big time and belted out some good stuff. I'm undecided as to who my overall favorite(s) is/are, but I am definitely lovin' me some Anoop Desai, Kris Allen, Allison Iraheta, Megan Joy Corkrey and Lil Rounds.

I was way excited when Kelly Clarkson was on the show the other day and sang her latest single, "My Life Would Suck Without You," which is so sickeningly pop through and through, but I LOVE it. And I was equally excited when Carrie Underwood was on the show last night to duet "I Told You So" with Randy Travis, and it was beautiful.

I think it's a pretty solid Top 10 this year. I'm looking forward to seeing how things go from here.

Here Comes the Sun...maybe

As much as I loathe the hot, hot, hot that's inevitable of summers in the South, I do find myself longing, at least, for the warmth of spring. Spring taunted us with a sneak preview of its warmth and wonder recently, and it's left me aching for more.

Weekend before last, the sky morphed in shade to a brilliant blue I can't recall having seen for quite some time. Sun pierced through and, like a drug, it pulled dozens of men and women and boys and girls to the same park at which I sought freedom from the winter blues.

It was perfect. Temperatures warmed the skin as they soared into the 80s, and breezes swept through the trees, as if on cue, just when it started to feel a little too warm.

I spent parts of both Saturday and Sunday afternoons, weekend before last, lazing about at the park. I collapsed onto a park bench and drifted away to the songs on my iPod and then I stretched out on the steep grassy side of a dam, begging the sun to kiss my winter white skin. Then the next day, I spread out a blanket next to the water and read Faulkner. I felt very poetic.

Please spring, do come back.

Life and death and all that's in between

I saw life at its pinnacle one day at the park, as sun streaked down from the sky between trees, glinting off the water of the lake that flows through it. Old men and women and teenagers and moms and dads and tots walked and bicycled and chased after jubilant dogs. The world was alive.

I saw death and felt the pain of it course through me and flow out of me via torrents of tears. A beloved mentor, friend, hero passed away, kissing cancer goodbye.

I reunited with some of the people who mean the most to me and simultaneously fostered new friendships.

To feel better, to feel normal, to take charge, I baked chocolate chip cookies, ran until my legs felt like rubber and sang at the top of my lungs.

Blurring the lines

I like right angles. Straight lines. Symmetry. I like cleanliness, neatness, order. I often see the world in black and white and forget about the shades of gray. I shy away from messy, from chaos, from the uncertain.

I like pattern and predictability and consistency.

And yet, I'm starting to realize that the times I've felt most alive are when I allowed myself to draw outside the lines, to forget about structure and order.

The moments aren't always pretty or pristine but they've left a stamp imprinted deeply in my soul that leaves me starving for more.

...The nights I forgot what time it was and let the minutes slip away with friends and conversation and wild ideas.

...Surfing over a sea of hands, loud music blaring all around me.

...Saying the words that were oh-so-hard to articulate but unarguably necessary.

...Leaving the familiar behind and traveling to another country with four strangers for a month.

...Driving and driving and driving away, not really sure why, but loving every minute of it.

...Letting go of the rules and going for it.

...Standing on a stage, hundreds of people in front of me, watching, waiting.

...Entering a room, alone and scared but knowing what's on the other side will be worth it.

...Running all those miles with all those people until there was hardly any air left in my lungs.

...Reconnecting, even when it was painful.

...Shouldering a responsibility I doubted I could handle and proving to myself and the rest of the world that I could do it and do it well.

...Saying to your face all the things I needed to say.

...Not caring what anyone thinks.

Snowww

The world is white outside. It's beautiful. The earth, the trees, the shrubs, the houses, the automobiles, all burried under soft white powder. Snow covers things that are normal or ordinary or ugly and transforms them into works of art. The world is beautiful when it's painted white.

Snow hides the plain, the not pretty, the transgressions, and suddenly, magically, all is right with the world.