Can you hear?

I’m writing a song. The lyrics, my life. Each line a year. The chorus sung once. I’m writing a song, the lyrics won’t stop…….my pumping heart, the beat. My mind the melody. I feel the music moving through my veins with each breath I take. Each moment passing, the rhythm forever changed. I never know what’s next.

You’re writing a song. The lyrics, your life. Each line a year. The chorus sung once. You’re writing a song, the lyrics won’t stop…..your pumping heart, the beat. Your mind the melody. The music moves through your veins with each breath you take. Each moment passing, the rhythm forever changed. You never know what’s next.

We’re writing a song. The lyrics, our life. Each line a year. The chorus sung once. We’re writing a song, the lyrics won’t stop…..our pumping hearts, the beat. Our minds the melody. The music moves through our veins with each breath we take. Each moment passing, the rhythm forever changed. We never know what’s next.

And there he stands. The conductor. The grand orchestra, life. Instruments all around. The music never stops. Perpetual orchestrating. He takes our music, no matter the lyrics or line, the rhythm or rhyme. the chorus sung once. He takes the beats, the melodies, whatever they may be. The music is always playing. Can you hear it? It’s pumping through our veins, from our hearts. The music is playing.

The music is always playing……….can you hear it? What type of person no longer hears the music? What does it take to forget the song? May you never stop singing……may the music continually continue. And when you close your eyes and take your last breath, may your ears be opened to the grandest orchestra echoing through the halls of eternity, vibrating through your soul as if you are the most prized piece.

Because you are.

Now sing your song. Live your life. Listen. Listen to the music pumping through your veins, through my veins. Through our veins.
The music is always playing.

Can you hear it?

*Written after witnessing a tragic head on collision between a mini SUV and motorcycle today.

there's this lady i know...

the more time you spend with someone, the more you adapt to each other.....some of his/her habbits become your own and your own become his/her. this seems to happen without much notice, until one day, when you're not around this person, you realize how much s/he has become a part of you...is a part of you.

so, there's this lady i know......she's a very talented lady: a quick learner. a master multi-tasker. a generous friend, an even-more generous wife and mom. she has always had a niche for art....for creativity whether she (or i) realized it or not. she's always creating something. in the past, it's been cross-stitch, stationary, and other random hobbies. but in the past few years, she has stepped into a new realm beyond what any of us could have imagined.

she spends countless hours creating, designing, preparing, and just exploring the world of stamps. now, this doesn't mean she sits in her craft room learning new techniques to properly place a bunch of ink on paper. bend your wrist this way. hold the stamp that way. don't wiggle. don't wobble. firmly hold. count to three. NO! from intricately elaborate cards, to cutsie little notes, to photo frames, albums, coasters, candles, candle holders, books, notebooks, or just about anything else you can imagine, she can make a project out of anything.

it's a new world to be pioneered, and she has turned out to be quite the pioneer indeed! sure, many people have gone before her........but the pioneering has taken place in her own mind. slowly, she has transformed from the lady who couldn't comprehend random stamping (if you asked her to randomly stamp snowflakes all over a piece of paper, you'd end up with "random order")...

i'm happy to report that she has broken through and and now dominates the random technique........but more than that, she has blossomed into this wonderful creative woman who i am proud to call my mom. i've always enjoyed arts and crafts of all sorts. and it's taken awhile, but i'm excited to realize that, even though i couldn't see it and wouldn't have believed it then, my love for creativity and creating comes from this lady i know............this lovely lady i'm honored to call my mom!

ps. when i was really young, i couldn't decide what my favorite color was. how uncool! all the girls had favorite colors. so, i asked, "Mom what's your favorite color?" "Well, all the colors are beautiful [like mother like daughter], but if i had to choose, i'd choose yellow."

next day at school: "What's your favorite color, janean?" "Yellow, definitely yellow."

REVIEW: My Life, a Magically Mischievous Movie

COMING TO YOU......
YOU WANT TO MISS THIS ONE....

Synopsis:

I'm always commenting on something; it's more like an ongoing narration of my life: "If my life was a movie, right now I'd......"

....knock down that huge stack of cereal boxes in the middle of my local grocery store

....hold the hand of the stranger walking next to me on the street

....join the choir on stage during the middle of a song

....jump into the meat cooler at the market pretending to be a dying cow or chicken

....take a serving spoon from Buca di Beppo....oh, wait, i did that

At a glance, destruction or embarrassment seem to be the leitmotifs. Not because I want to destroy or embarrass others, but I'm fascinated by PEOPLE'S REACTIONS. Juvenile, I know. For instance, I thought it would be entertaining to watch every one's uncertain, awkward, unbelieving responses when I pushed the angel lady off her little podium (she was only about two feet off the ground) at the Christmas pageant last week...not because I wanted to hurt her, but because no one in that crowd would know what to do as my little, eager eyes appeared where this now fallen angel once stood.

Director's Comments:

Trust me, I will never make my life into a movie....for your sake . But, for those of you now concerned with my mental well-being, please note that this movie of my life is...i mean, would be....based completely on "what ifs" because that's exactly what they are. People wouldn't be harmed in the filming process. Rest assured. But, next time you see me remember that you may just be the leading role in the next scene of My Life, a Magically Mischievous Movie.

out of body

Have you experienced an "out-of-body" moment? Not some mystical, self-actualization ecstasy achieved during hot yoga.

There you are, standing, sitting, talking, singing....and before you know it, you're preceiving yourself as if...well, as if you aren't really you. Perhaps you see yourself from a bird's eye view doing whatever it is you're doing. Or not?

Boy #1: "Miss Gigi, yahehkaejalejrkj! heajkejkpodo! jijiownenci! menandnioigjio!"

Boy #2: "No, Miss Gigi, ioeuwiqoiuio cmoinwk! xoyiowekn!"

Girl #1: "Um, he saying that Abdel hit him."

Miss Gigi: "Ask him why he hit him."

Boy #3: "Jkjijew knozxem. wicon lekj!"

Girl # 2: "Because he was going to make a goal so he grabbed his tshirt so he couldn't kick the football."

Boy #1, 2, 3, & 4: "joijwjnm ljknmoi! kojcijeknl! kjkwcoio! iclikenknrkloicivckilesfjklsrjhraljkjteklaw;jfrakefkasjfarjhgikajeifkjsdfjasle;kjfaeijfaioejfrajebnjhi igubinv uoienucisjd idjhfihdiufheiuhIWJDIOJDIKFJAI HIHFAIKJSDiejrofi ijfijiowjeakfn uhirjghehiftrajhifjekfjekljhaierjhfioefoiywgqw2pediqpikjnszmdiw2j ijeficneioqhouhf iojweijmvmo ooeifoidiu jfkenn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then it happened:

Four sweaty, frustrated, competetive 2nd grade boys arguing in Arabic right after I broke up their little fight. Two girls doing their best to translate the problem so Miss Gigi can "solve" the problem - you know, protect the innocent, punish the naughty.

Just imagine my reaction as I realize how horribly, ridiculously, hilariously humorous this situation must look. I couldn't help but laugh....out loud. No longer concerned with their problem, I just laugh. Not sure what's going on. They follow my lead.

the way we do

who knew tableclothes could be so......useful:

In case you're wondering, the tablecloth is on my head...not my legs :)

our white christmas......party

Christmas party at our flat.....

for more, check out:

http://nwcollege.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2004373&l=8c105&id=167100372

muddy buddies, steak filets, and Grandpa Clause

Where do I begin? With my problem-solving skills...or lack thereof...for over-dramatic 2nd graders who argue only in Arabic? With the presents wrapped in make-shift wrapping paper under our little Christmas tree decorated with red, heart-shaped lights and simple sparkling ornaments that were given to us? With the "White Christmas" Party that Lianne and I are hosting. With the miso soup I enjoyed last night thanks to the box full of happiness sent from those two wonderful people I get to call my parents (and thanks Grandma and Grandpa for the beef jerky -- you know me well :) Maybe I'll start with the muddy buddies I just made in preparation for our party. Or the rice krispies I still need to make. Or the large snowman I'm planning to make for that huge blank spot on our wall. Or the Christmas tablecloth I bought as a "splurge" item that doesn't even fit our table.

As you can see, there are many places I can start. I suppose I'll start here: I LOVE peanut butter and oreos! Unfortunetly, just about EVERY bite full of American sweetness cost about, oh, maybe $1/bite at LEAST. Lianne and I hoped to make a gingerbread house; however, this miniture gingerbread house would cost us about L.E. 100 = $20! To give you an idea, I can buy a high-end, juicy, delicous steak filet for about L.E. 10...you got it, 10 steak filets for the cost of ONE gingerbread house.

Hmm....tempting:

But my decision wasn't difficult...at all:

Oh my goodness, right now, I would really enjoy a candycane slowly dissolving in sweet hot chocolate in an oversize mug cuddled on the couch in front of the fake fireplace my Mom assembles every year so we can hang our over-stuffed stockings resulting from an over-generous Mom. Interestingly, as the one in charge of putting gifts in the stockings (including her own), my Mom's stocking seems to be getting fatter each year. Funny how that works :)

This morning, I was thinking about the senses of Christmas. For me, Christmas SMELLS like mint hot chocalate and Christmas pine dancing together in my nose (not the nicest image, I know). Christmas LOOKS like snowy, Seattle streets lined with lights and single people walking their dogs mixed with decorated, tropical coconut trees, that assembled fireplace, and those little people we take out of the closet each winter and house them in their little village for the most exciting days of their year -- outside of their boxes, those poor people. Christmas TASTES like a scrumptous candle-light dinner accompanied with too many sugar cookies and tight jeans. Christmas SOUNDS like Christmas records crackling on my turntable. Christmas FEELS like home.

This year, Christmas will feel different. Not bad. Not lonely. Not gift-less (thankfully). Different. Quite. Lianne and I have come up with some ideas for our Christmas celebration. Together, will will smell, look, tastes, hear, and feel a new Christmas experience. Together, we will remember why we're celebrating. Yes, I will miss all the little cousins running around like head-less chickens full of blissful glee in anticipation for everything they've been wishing for. I will miss that pillow-stuffed Grandpa Clause ringing his fishing bell as all the great grandchildren (and I) sing Jingle Bells and as the youngest babies cry histerically because they don't recognize this long-bearded, square, pillow tummied Grandpa Clause. But I look forward to this experience. I look forward to the comfort of home and family next year. Until then, may you enjoy the holidays with a lot of family..........and food!

A stoll down memory lane: