I'm ready to leave soon.

but I don't know where.

[more of the wonderful Josh Ritter here]

Banana

Giveaway Queen

Ever since I realized how poor I am and how much I love pretty things, I became the Giveaway Queen.

Meaning: I sneakily stalk every blog on the internet and sign up for everything.

Hopefully posting this will bring me some magic:
Shabby Apple Queensland Swimsuit Giveaway

try it!
banana

"um, I'm filming." {take one}

Have you ever noticed how terribly delightful videos that were supposed to be pictures are?

Never flattering to anyone.
that is fun.

I think I'm going to start a collection! So if you find any, don't delete them. I'd love to give them a happy home.

Here are some I just found on my current memory card:


my "before" picture attempt


My/ Shea's "candle-lit tent picnic" attempt



Sister jenabunny's "grumpy/ smoochy" attempt


my/ Jerusalem friend Molly's "blissful reunion" attempt



my "Look at me! I'm standing in front of Bethlehem University!" attempt


roommate Tauna's "kinda gangsta" attempt

love it,
Banana

the end.

 
Last night's "LOST" was beautiful.

I'm not a TV watcher as a rule, but I've been enraptured all six years.
Okay, I'm a total Lostie.

And no matter what anyone says, I think the season [I can't quite bring myself to say "series" just yet] ended perfectly!

I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to Vincent, Smokey, the Hatch, the Hippie Van, the Polar Bear and the Others forever, but if I learned anything from that masterfully executed episode,

it's okay to let go and move on. 

[the LOST party I went to last night had awesome

favors like Dharma "beer"- mine was Diet Pepsi- and fish

biscuits]

Good thing I still have my pictures from the set to brag about. :)

okay. I'm totally ready to move back to "The Island."

Who knows... perhaps it's my destiny?

cross your fingers.

love, light, and loss,

Banana

Wait....what am I waiting for, exactly?

I spend a great deal of my time these days lamenting.

It's pathetic because I'm only twenty, I'm healthy, relatively strong (albeit totally scrawny, but, you know, no parasites that I know of) and have a long, lush existence to look forward to.

And yet I'm like a bitter old woman, taking out my disappointment with my diminished youth on everyone else.

I'm like the witchy motor-chair lady on Waking Ned Devine.

I sigh about my high school exploits like they were my golden years.
I'll quickly note that the purse one just said one liked was, in fact,  purchased in EGYPT.

I'll explain to anyone who will listen how cool I am.  [and I can prove it too! I can I can I can!]

I wake up in the morning actually angry that I'm not waking up to the call to prayer with Jerusalem waiting outside my window.

I find my self jealous of anyone and everyone who is talented, motivated, content, or just, I hate to        
[my foot]                                                                                     admit it, happy. 

yep. children. celebrities. the UPS guy. my grandmother. my dog. you name it.

I hate that.

 

I know that I have:

talent

energy

promise 

motivation

friends

passion

And yet, all I can seem to think about is the past. It's all wadded up into a great big confused ball of ticket stubs and playbills and logged away in my locked-up filing cabinet labeled "romanticized."  

It takes a lot of prying and twisting and head-bashing to remind myself that not everything was perfectly peachy back then either.

I've always known my wander-lusting, sensitive disposition was a bit of a liability, but it's starting to feel like I just can't be happy if I'm not moving across the world every few months.

or winning things.

or proving how very interesting I am.

or living in Hawaii.

or committing to a kajillion high-profile things every day.

or dazzling people on stage.

or wearing a crown and sash.

or...whatever.

Last night I went to the phenomenal Celtic Woman concert with my mama and family friend, Marilyn. It was, very literally, breathtaking.

But I had to keep reminding myself how much I was enjoying it  because I was sitting there, all hunched up, resenting the sweet old lady next to me singing along to "Danny Boy" with gusto because she was, of course, so happy.

And I absolutely [I'm not proud of this] hated those incredibly talented singers and musicians onstage. They were, after all, enjoying themselves. And, you know, doing what they love.

How dare they do that in front of me!!! The audacity.

No, but really. I'm desperately tired of being miserable, and of allowing myself to be so.  Day after day. So what if I'm in Spokane? It's pretty.

So what if I don't get a lot of social time [and by some, I mean none]? I finally get to hang out with my family. I'm not here often.

So what if I'm not famous? Most people aren't.

So what if I'm not actually better than everyone else at everything?    ....well, you get the point.

Or I should, anyway.

Here's to being happy! It's time to live this life of mine, methinks.

love and stuff,

Banana 

p.s. I'm going to the Spokane Symphony tonight. Goal: no frowns and a smile exchange with the patron next to me. 
p.p.s any inspirational quotes/ pics/ smacks upside the head= totally appreciated.

hello, holga

 why do I have the best boyfriend in the whole world?

why did I get a package in the mail yesterday that said "Welcome to Holgawood"?

why did it contain this gorgeous little goldenrod plastic camera that holds so much adventure and experimentation and wonder for me?

frankly, I have no idea. But I'm so pumped! I hope Holga and I will be great friends.

I must admit, though, that I'm a little intimidated by her. The fact that she's the plaything of professionals and takes a lot more creativity and skill than my Samsung L100 digital point and shoot that I'm so comfortable with.. is scary.

I used the "Holga-ish" feature on picnik in anticipation.

This babe uses film.

She has no flash.

She is made out of plastic.

What you take is what you get [with the exception of a whole lot of an angle and considerable distortion].

I'm so excited and scared and in love and thankful that someone is finally taking me up on my "someday I'm actually going to be a photographer" complex.

love, lenses, and new friends, 

Banana    

all about the girl who came to stay

Last weekend was magical for me, and I'll tell you why.

After living together in Hawaii, Jerusalem, and Utah,

Alyssa [aka Gracie] and I finally spent time together in the good ole' homeland: The Inland Northwest.

I'll admit it. I'm really lonely these days. Being home and earning money is good but, you know.. it's a little stagnant. And well...

...well, it was a wonderful relief to have a sleepover with a beautiful, darling friend and meet up with two other darling friends [Kali and Bryson] to go to an amazing concert [The Five Browns; website here ] at the Fox theatre:

beautiful stage. beautiful pianos [oh, those pianos!].

My favorite piece was probably "Claire de Lune." Six hands on one piano playing one of the most beautiful melodies of all time. Exquisite!

The five magical siblings themselves, complete with terrible red eye [yeah, it's kind of a creeper shot. What can I say?]. 

And then we frolicked through gardens of all kinds in Manito Park on the South Hill of Downtown Spokane. The lilac garden was in full bloom, and you could smell it before you could see it. We had a great time taking pictures (all the good ones are on her Nikon), had a gluten-free, dairy-free picnic lunch, went to Auntie's bookstore, got the lovely lady some new pointe shoes, and explored all day long.

It was such a beautifully sunny day [in so many ways].

the infamous MEOW! bench

please come back, Gracie. I had a lovely time.

love, flowers, and isn't it friday yet?

-Banana

Opus 37

I’m really feeling music today. It could possibly be my radically enhanced emotional state, not much altered even by the slight overdose on Midol I might have had this morning.

Or it could just be that music is what brings life to my veins and thus oxygen to my brain and clarity to my eyes and richness to my senses. It always has, after all. I’ve been ignoring music; skulking around, hiding behind corners when I see it coming. And I’m not sure why. 

I’ve just been so afraid lately. But it’s hard to say exactly what I’m afraid of. Maybe it’s nothing. That is, maybe I’m scared of dissolving into nothingness. Amounting to nothing. Being nothing. Or at least not being what I always dreamed I would be and what I’m now doing nothing to become. And returning to the piano with stiff, forgetful fingers and forcefully shaking my startled voice awake, which comes out creaky from neglect, is scary when I’m already so scared.

And yet, today I’m craving only one of those magical corners with a small open window and eighty-eight slightly dusty keys. They’ve always been such a refuge- such a sanctuary- waiting patiently to absorb every moment of disappointment or frustration or euphoria with life and its potential for being lived. It’s all there in those keys and my fingers that know them so well, even if they’re a little awkward at first reuniting. But like any true friends, they soon know they never really spent time apart, after all. They quickly remember one another’s idiosyncrasies; their shortcomings and their greatest abilities. Their mutual desire to produce something worth listening to. Worth getting lost in. Worth feeling.

So I sit here in this stark, florescent box of a facility, as far away from that corner as you could really get, listening to the genius of Dustin O’Halloran and Iris Litchfield with itching fingers. RLS bouncing my knees all over the place under my desk, my feet blindly bumbling around, searching for the pedals. But my insides feel warm and sparkly with the anticipation of greeting one of my oldest and dearest friends. Perhaps the most loyal friend of all, always waiting patiently, always knowing that someday I’ll come back to raise the blinds and crack open the rain streaked window, to stroke the old worn oak bench, lift the cover, inhale a deep, nervous breath, arrange my cold, frightened fingers into the key of G and…

Play.

-Banana 

 [These photos are from a  special day in Hawaii about a year and a half ago. Taken by Bremen McKinney and me and featuring Tessa Brady and my hands, feet, and occasional indiscernible reflection]

It's a unicorn!

Ever since my sister found out we were prego (I like to add the "we" in there. I'm already very important in this baby's life) we've been discussing what kind of baby it will be.

You know, most people figure it will be either "a boy" or "a girl," but Jena and I explored other possibilities like.. "It's a lizard!" "It's a cupcake!" Eventually, we accepted the grown-ups' insistence that there are only two kinds of babies, and we settled on cowboys and unicorns.

Today she had her "kind of baby" appointment and found out  

it's a unicorn!!

My other beautiful little unicorn filly of a neice, Lily Belle, is so excited it's a girl. Here's what she had to say about it:

I'm such a happy auntie banana!
I love you, jenabunny and baby!

love, babies, and plentiful new knitting projects now that I know what color yarn to get,

Anna

p.s. sister also blogged about our lovely trip to Colorado here

wind

it whisks all things away
just like Charlie Chaplin's hat-
Everything but my solid resolution
to go Nowhere and be Nothing.

even the heavy wooden Door
isn't immune-
it bangs in Warning;
distant drums of ancient warriors.

it violates Marilyn
just in time for the cameras;
it waltzes with the weathervane
and conducts a cataclysmic wind chime Chorus.

it howls in Agony-
or perhaps just to frighten
the small girl afraid of Ghosts;
the young woman afraid of open Doors.