An Ode to Michaella

- I don't even know what an Ode is, all I know is this girl deserves a frickin medal. But I don't have one. so this quasi-ode will have to do -

Kale. Mk. Mom. Michaella. MikayJ. Meeekaaaayyylllaaaaa. Miquan. Meek-i-el. the list goes on, but I simply (and secretly) refer to her as my little Guru. Maybe she knows that, or maybe not but this chick is my Guru Goddess.

From early on we were destined to befriend one another. It all started when I joined her and her little junior-high-girl-group for a swim at some rec center. From the start I knew she was a powerful little tween because she wasn't as out-there as the others, she wasn't as loud and obnoxious and was generally guarded - later, I would learn it was because she thought I was going to infiltrate her group of friends and ruin EVERYTHING (ah the minds of junior high girls). But my secret desire to be BFFs with her would not be stifled.

High school came and we found ourselves in different groups. She was naturally friends with all these hot athletic soccer-playing ladies (in particular this one ballet-dancing blond, but more about her later) and I was just the loud girl who screamed in gym class when the ball got too close. But it was there, despite me not liking her blond-best-friend, and despite me being jealous of her uncanny ability to flirt with boys (lets be honest, I'm still jealous of that trait), I knew I wanted to be friends - and guess what? SHE DID TOO.

(The early years circa Sophomore year)

We beat the odds and somehow ended up fabulous friends. It probably started when we began having late night phone conversations that lasted till the wee hours of the morning. I'm not kidding, it would start with a simple "hey do you have the reading assignment? and would turn into a 3-hour chat sesh about anything and everything. We also somehow always ended up in the same math and science classes which was convenient because we would then be in the same group for projects; which never really worked out - napping, T.V, talking about boys, eating, and gossiping was always far more important than creating a Rube Goldberg Machine or studying for an exam.
We did Prom Committee together, we were always on the "decorating committees" for dances and assemblies and when planning for these events, we both understood that it takes at least (bare minimum) 2 hours to get your hair done (personal-preparation was always an all-day event). She understands and loves attention to detail and all of the cheesy-romantic-cliche girl stuff I secretly enjoy as well. Plus, she's the only one who will pay 10 bucks to see the lamest romantic comedy with me. "We are the girls that these marketers target their products to".Michaella and I have a common understanding. We can tell each other about our crazy borderline-neurosis-behavior because there is a 99% chance that the other party has done/thought it. For example:
- talking about our ideal wedding color-scheme, bridesmaid dress length ("Oh and don't even worry, of course you'll be a bridesmaid"), number of guests, wedding season (pending when the proposal is of course), AND just in case we ever need to know: the kind of engagement ring we want...."because obviously, my future fiance would want to ask you for advice."
- (sorry for this one in advance) confessing that we have indeed Google Maped (Street View mind you) where someone lives..."oh so that's where they live....wow. now I know, its like I've been there!"
- Admitting that it took an hour and a half to pick out this outfit because "the shirt says 'I didn't try' but the jeans and bracelet say 'but I'm still appropriate for this occasion' ".... sometimes the outfit-decision-making-process involves sending one another pictures of said outfit options.
- Calling one another for advice on the response to a text-message "because it HAS to be perfect!"
- Traveling to Hollywood Video to rent Twilight, just to discover its closed, calling three different people to ask where another video store is, searching for a pirated copy on the internet, asking people if they know anyone we can borrow it from, and FINALLY succumbing to purchasing a $13 dollar copy off of iTunes... "because we just HAVE to watch it NOW" "this purchase is totally worth it, oh look! there's even exclusive iTunes bonus features!!" *out of all of these embarrassing facts, that one is the most embarrassing*
- Going downtown on a Thursday at 12pm to see the new Rob Pattinson movie...and crying at the end. (it was a good movie...I wont even front. super sad.)
- Admitting that instead of doing your homework you watched 4 hours worth of Instant-Play T.V shows on NetFlix.
- Being OK with saying, "sorry, but tubing behind the boat is not fun. it's painful. so we'll sit here and watch"
- Watching Brave Heart while doing crafts at home on a Saturday night....old ladies in training.
-She understands my utter love for fabulous lyrics and will sit and listen to "the best song in the world" and then actually converse with me about said lyrics...rockstar
Michaella is selfless- she is always giving, super grounded, gorgeous, intelligent, hilarious (even though she doesn't think so), mature, honest, empathetic, and one of my fave facts, is that she actually listens to books on tape. Namely Harry Potter. She makes dinner for our friends "just because" and once made a whole spaghetti feast, complete with salad and garlic bread for a Christmas gathering.
I call her a Guru because she is has got to be one of the best advice-givers I know. She is like therapist-Michaella (which can probably be a blessing and a curse) but more than that, she can literally READ YOUR MIND. She knows my secret thoughts and calls me out on my ulterior motives. Sometimes I think I should be more guarded with my thoughts because Lord knows, Kale will figure that shit OUT. There have been times (every time) when she's asking me for advice and I literally feel inadequate because her advice to me is always so damn good I could never measure up! Lately, when giving advice to others, I have found myself thinking, "what would Michaella say?" and suddenly my attempt at advice doesn't seem so lame. *aww*

(deep in some conversation. Duluth-style) (i actually just think she's pissed a picture was taken, but just go with it)

We still have our hour-long phone conversations and we meet for lunch dates which turn into day-long hang outs where all we do is go online (Chatroulette...what?) and we still plan outfits for even the most mundane things and we watch hours and hours of One Tree Hill. And even if I don't see her as much as I used to, I still get texts saying "thinking of you". We can talk about religion, politics, sociology, psychology and anthropology and be genuinely interested in each others "fun facts". Shes a good egg, that Kale.

This Ode has turned into more of a love letter, but I'm ok with that. Michaella often plays the role of the mediator or mom (as we prefer it) and as moms go, they sometimes feel unappreciated. So this little ode is me giving a holler to one of the truly fabulous people in my life. Thanks for all you do doll face...namely putting up with me. ♥

Tonight, the role of Catherine will be played by...

It's been a while huh boys?

*my sister Mary would always call my little sister, our best friend Chloe and I "boys" instead of "girls" or "ladies" when we were little. Sometimes she still does. Its kinda fun.


Anyways. I have much to say and yet I have no desire to tell you any of it. probably because I would somehow betray plenty of friends or reveal far too many personal thoughts....What I will say however, is that it has been a very introspective* week. Lots of deep thoughts that were caused not by any stimulating conversation or by any form of illegal substance but rather from many different types of media. So in place of all that juicy goodness I could tell you all about, I'll give you some things to listen to and look at which have been mind-bending for me and which I hope will be for you as well. Win-Win?
*Introspection is the self-observation and reporting of conscious inner thoughts, desires and sensations. It is a conscious mental and usually purposive process relying on thinking, reasoning and examining one's own thoughts feelings, and, in more spiritual cases, one's soul.

On Monday I watched one of the most brilliant movies I've ever seen. It has been capturing my thoughts ever since I finished watching it and I just have to recommend it to everyone I know. Synedoche, New York has sky-rocketed to the top of my favorite movies list AND its a movie I can see myself watching repeatedly many many times (and as I've said before, I rarely repeat movies). You can read the synopsis from HERE from IMDB.com or a more thorough explanation from the movie's website HERE


There was a monologue done by an actor, acting as a priest at a funeral in a play, and it was the most amazing monologue I may have ever seen in a movie - or at least that I can remember. I googled franticaly trying to find these beautiful words and I finally did. They pertain to the movie, but also to life....as you can clearly read for yourself.

READ:

"Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make. You can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won’t know for twenty years! And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce…And they say there’s no fate, but there is, it’s what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead, or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right, but it never comes. Or it seems to, but it doesn’t really. So you spend you time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along, something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel cherished, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is is, I feel so angry! And the truth is, I feel so fucking sad! And the truth is, I’ve felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long, I’ve been pretending I’m okay, just to get along! I don’t know why. Maybe because…no one wants to hear about my misery…because they have their own. Fuck everybody. Amen."


LOOK:


This film should have won best picture, best actor, best screen-play, best director, best EVERYTHING. I can't say enough about it! So you should just rent it yourself, OR if you have a Netflix account, it is available on Instant Play!
The trailer really does not do it justice, but I'll show it to you anyway....

Ok just one more thing: The theme song for the movie is called, Song For Callen or Little Person. Its written by Jon Brion and it not only embodies the message/theme of the movie, it is soo beautiful and truthful.

LISTEN:



I discovered a very interesting Poem by Richard Siken. I'm not sure exactly how I feel about it, but I do know that I liked it and it was very thought-provoking (which is the theme of this post!). I see it as we are being walked through someone's mind, led by Siken himself, and we're seeing all of the memories of this person - all of the ones he wants them to see. It's just sort of stream-of-consciousness writing but good shit either way, plus there are tons of "quote-worthy" lines! (it seems long, but it goes quickly)

READ:

Snow and Dirty Rain

Close your eyes. A lover is standing too close
to focus on. Leave me blurry and fall toward me
with your entire body. Lie under the covers, pretending
to sleep, while I’m in the other room. Imagine
my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots
in the slatted light. I’m thinking My plant, his chair,
the ashtray that we bought together. I’m thinking This is where
we live. When we were little we made houses out of
cardboard boxes. We can do anything. It’s not because
our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we
struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring
your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making
those long noodles you love so much. My dragonfly,
my black-eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing
for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw,
and this is the map of my heart, the landscape
after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is
a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me
tight, it’s getting cold. We have not touched the stars,
nor are we forgiven, which brings us back
to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes,
not from the absence of violence, but despite
the abundance of it. The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,
the gold light falling backward through the glass
of every room. I’ll give you my heart to make a place
for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger.
Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars
for you? That I would take you there? The splash
of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube? We’ve read
the back of the book, we know what’s going to happen.
The fields burned, the land destroyed, the lovers left
broken in the brown dirt. And then it’s gone.
Makes you sad. All your friends are gone. Goodbye
Goodbye. No more tears. I would like to meet you all
in Heaven. But there’s a litany of dreams that happens
somewhere in the middle. Moonlight spilling
on the bathroom floor. A page of the book where we
transcend the story of our lives, past the taco stands
and record stores. Moonlight making crosses
on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.
We have been very brave, we have wanted to know
the worst, wanted the curtain to be lifted from our eyes.
This dream going on with all of us in it. Penciling in
the bighearted slob. Penciling in his outstretched arms.
Our father who art in Heaven. Our father who art buried
in the yard. Someone is digging your grave right now.
Someone is drawing a bath to wash you clean, he said,
so think of the wind, so happy, so warm. It’s a fairy tale,
the story underneath the story, sliding down the polished
halls, lightning here and gone. We make these
ridiculous idols so we can to what’s behind them,
but what happens after we get up the ladder?
Do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it?
Here is the river, and here is the box, and here are
the monsters we put in the box to test our strength
against. Here is the cake, and here is the fork, and here’s
the desire to put it inside us, and then the question
behind every question: What happens next?
The way you slam your body into mine reminds me
I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling,
and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding
the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t
stitched up quite right, the place they could almost
slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to
keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side
of the theater where the curtain keeps rising.
I crawled out the window and ran into the woods.
I had to make up all the words myself. The way
they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed
through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled
around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made
this place for you. A place for to love me.
If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.
So how would you catalog it? Dawn in the fields?
Snow and dirty rain? Light brought in in buckets?
I was trying to describe the kingdom, but the letters
kept smudging as I wrote them: the hunter’s heart,
the hunter’s mouth, the trees and the trees and the
space between the trees, swimming in gold. The words
frozen. The creatures frozen. The plum sauce
leaking out of the bag. Explaining will get us nowhere.
I was away, I don’t know where, lying on the floor,
pretending I was dead. I wanted to hurt you
but the victory is that I could not stomach it. We have
swallowed him up, they said. It’s beautiful. It really is.
I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room
where everyone finally gets what they want.
You said Tell me about your books, your visions made
of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is
the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you
there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar
cube… We were in the gold room where everyone
finally gets what they want, so I said What do you
want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am
leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome
burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.
We are all going forward. None of us are going back.

-Richard Siken


Another song I came across this week was Please Don't Go by Barcelona. It has pretty/sad lyrics and fabulous chord progressions during the chorus. It's simple but it sticks with you.

LISTEN:


Following in the songs category, I was turned onto a truly fabulous and local artist, Dessa. If you listen to The Current at all, you have probably heard her latest single, The Chaconne. The poetry is sublime and the song (similar to Barcelona's) really sticks with you. I've also included the lyrics here, because her writing and use of imagery is something else.
*A shout out to Claire, who writes The Art of the Mix Tape blog, for informing me of the genius that is Dessa. Check out AOTMT for more fabulous song suggestions.



now the bough breaks

the books I read
said you were a fragile kid
just as I imagined it
your story goes:

another nosebleed
roses on the pillowcase
the fever breaks,
and you're back on earth again

you rehearse
in the living room
the nursemaid comes mid-afternoon
to say "you've practiced long enough today"

she takes your bow
it's suppertime
but oh, your only appetite
was fixed on the chaconne you'd hoped to play

so soon you're off
to the academy
the honours
and the accolades

first a darling
then a marvel
when we met
I was still a young girl

but you had changed, already famous
your name was a contagion
you were vain and hard to take all the same, I was brave
how the tides rise
oh, how the tides rise

I don't suppose you'd tell the truth
so I won't ask you anymore
all the things that we do
to pass the time between the wars

I don't regret a single day
heard your chaconne on every stage
but your love sleeps in a velvet case so what'd you bring me for?
what'd you bring me for?

yeah, oh

I hear you keep your pretty wife alive on only brie they say a dozen years ago she could have passed for me
she doesn't trust you with the baby
maybe better that way
safe in your study
going grey

you're at your best
when you're alone
above the fray
with your chaconne

now the bells toll



Ok so ONE more song, if you can stomach it. This one is another goody when it comes to lyrics; The Nicest Thing by Kate Nash. She hits the nail on the head regarding just about everything girls want. The lyrics are included in the video:





And that'll do it for this heavy post....so much THINKING!!

ps. one thing that doesn't require much thought: shopping. Which I did a few times this week: Fave purchases include a sailor-stripe boat neck tee which I had been searching for this whole season. AND these shoes (gafaw)::::



LOVE