2009: The Year in (Book) Review

Courtesy of LibraryThing.com, here's a cover mash of the 91 books I tagged "Finished in 2009":

The Twelve Blogs of Christmas (5): Little Drummer Girl

 

I have no gift to bring
That's fit to give a King...
Shall I play for you?


I played my drum for Him,
I played my best for Him.
Then He smiled at me.

I thought I would go back to my original intention of The Twelve Blogs of Christmas and pick an obscure Christmas song lyric that oddly relates to my life.  This one comes from two different vereses of The Little Drummer Boy.  I realized it's hard to think of that song without the excess "pa rum pa pum pum rrrrrum pum pum pum" interludes but in the words above I think there's a pretty profound encounter with Christ going on.  The drummer boy is lamenting - in the line just before the ones I chose - that he is a poor boy, just like the Christ child.  Unlike the magi with their extravagent offerings of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, the fictional percussionist has nothing to give...except his service.  He realizes that although he has no material goods, he can do for Jesus what he is good at doing: he can drum. In the next verse, following some poetry about musical barnyard animals we find that the drummer boy not only plays for Jesus, he plays his best for Jesus.  I think that's the offering that God is always looking for.  And the next line always gives me a little chill - "Then He smiled at me".

There's something about Christmas that sends the volunteerism bug echoing through people.  There's that goody-goody happy feeling that people get when they help others and with a sort of infectious cheer everyone jumps on that band wagon at Christmas time.  But I wonder if maybe there's an even better reason to serve.  Maybe by giving the gift of ourselves, giving the very best of ourselves, we can bring a smile to the face of God.  What better reward for the gift of serving - and not just any efforts, but our very best - than to see God smiling? 

For the seventh year in a row Tony and I are serving at the East Aurora Gift Mart with Community 4:12.  For those that haven't heard me gush about this awesome event, our church partners with other churches and businesses to collect a massive amount of new toys ($6-20 each).   We then bring these toys over to schools in East Aurora and while we host a Christmas party for the kids at the schools, we set up a gift mart and sell the toys to the parents for $2 each.  The money raised then goes back to the schools.  It acts as a win-win-win situation in that the children have a blast, the parents get affordable gifts while still having the dignity to purchase their own, and it's a fundraiser for the schools.  We call the model giving a hand-up rather than a hand-out.  Seven years ago we began this endeavor at a single school in East Aurora.  Now we have two gift marts in East Aurora serving four different elementary schools as well as a gift mart in East Joliet too.

At multiple events throughout the year - and especially at Christmas time - serving always reminds me of The Little Drummer Boy.  I don't have a lot to give God in terms of material goods.  My entire yearly salary is probably less than what some people at my church tithe.  But I can serve.  That's the song I can play.  And I will play for Him.  And I will play my best for Him.

Then He smiled at me.
Me and my drum.

The Twelve Blogs of Christmas (4): Prancer's in a Mini-Mall Near My House!

I can't tell you how many years it's been since I've seen the Christmas movie Prancer about a young girl who finds one of Santa's errant reindeer and hides him in a barn to nurse him back to health, but in every preview for the movie (on TV or back in the day when it first hit theaters) there was one line that was always played and it's when the girl cries out, "Prancer's in a shed near my house!"  If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about.  There is no shed by my house so it turns out this year Prancer decided to hang out at the mini-mall near Costco.

I think he recognized my hat....

The Twelve Blogs of Christmas: (3) Santastic

In a follow up to my previous post about my favorite accessory, I invented a new word.  (It's been a while since I've come up with one...)  I give you:

Santastic: (adj) portmanteau of Santa and Fantastic; used to describe something that exudes Christmas spirit and brings joy, happiness or brightness to someone else in the manner of Santa Claus bringing smiles to children. 

Go on, use it in a sentence and add it to your vocabulary. Example: "The Christmas movie Elf is Santastic!"  "My friend Lisa is filled with randsanity or maybe just Dewfeine.  She went around town all day on Saturday in a wacky holiday sweater and a santa hat.  She's so Santastic!"

Wishing you a very Santastic holiday season!

The Twelve Blogs of Christmas: (2) My Favorite Accessory

On Saturday, to celebrate my mom's birthday we gathered my whole family for "Breakfast with Santa" at my parents church.  Yes, it was a little bizarre to be one of the oldest people there without children, but it was fun to have the whole family together and celebrate the coming holiday as well as my mom's birthday.  And in honor of the holiday spirit I donned one of my favorite winter accessories: my santa hat.


It was a convenient addition to my outfit in that it kept my head warm and also concealed my less than neat hairdo resulting from my hurried shower and incomplete drying of my hair (we had to be there at 8am and Tony wasn't home from work until 9pm on Friday, you do the math).  Plenty of people were sporting the Kringle chapeaus at the event but the rest of the day was rather amusing.  Seeing as how I commited myself to a day of hat hair, I decided just to leave the hat on as I went about errands and activities for all of Saturday. 

My first stop was Costco.  In line at Customer Service, a man walked past me on his way out the door.  He glanced my way and then after passing me, backtracked three steps, and leaned over to conspiratorially tell me, "I gotta say, I love the hat."  This brought almost as much of a smile to my face as in the center of the store when a gentlemen pushing a cart carrying two kids walked by me.  He didn't pay me much notice, but his two kids spotted my bright head head and pointed me out with cheers of "SANTA CLAUS!!"  I smiled and waved like a minor celebrity.  Multiple other smiles and giggles were passed my way throughout the shopping trip and through the various other stores I visitied that afternoon.  And of course I was met with more than one "Feliz Navidad" as I joined my parents at a Mexican restaurant for dinner.

I've never had a problem making a fool of myself to bring others happiness.  I don't know what it is about a red furry hat that brings a smile to the faces of strangers, but I'm more than willing to spread that small bit of cheer however I can.  Plus, it really was a nice way to keep my head warm...

The 12 Blogs of Christmas: (1) The Gift of the Magi

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I want to resurrect an idea I had on my blog a few years back (December '05) where I had 12 blogs in the month of December that all dealt with a theme of Christmas.  Previously I focused on Christmas songs, but this year might be a bit more varied.  Enjoy!
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Over on her blog and also on Facebook, my friend Ellen asked a question about favorite Christmas books.  I have a decent number of books tagged "Christmas" in my LibraryThing account (see the search box on the right if you're curious) but after I posted her my reply, I thought of another favorite Christmas story that I haven't thought about for many years.  It's a short story, so it didn't come to mind right away when I thought of Christmas books, but it remains a favorite nonetheless.  It's by the author O. Henry (a wonderful pen name as well as a candy bar) and the story is called The Gift of the Magi.

The story is in the public domain so if you click the link above, you can get the whole text of it, and if you've never read it, I highly recommend doing so now.  Go on, O. Henry is a much better author than I am so you'll enjoy it much more than my ramblings.  I reread it the other day and it hit me as especially profound in today's world of economic hard times.

I'm one of those people that delights in gift giving and I'm ashamed to admit that I love giving expensive gifts too. But recently I've been leaning towards more inexpensive but thoughtful gifts and it's left me ruminating on the short story.  Instead of showing off possessions that inspire envy in others, I would rather people look at Tony and I and realize that we give gifts wisely.  It's why a portion of our Christmas shopping is for people in East Aurora that we've never met as well as for my awesome nieces and nephews.  It's why even before we start spending for family we send money through Compassion for a gift for the child we sponsor.

So in light of Black Friday (yes I was shopping at 3am) and Cyber Monday (I still can't be persuaded that online is the way to go), and our continuing difficult economy, I thought I'd share this story about the theme of giving.  My favorite part is the quote,

"Let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi."  - O. Henry

Hope it touches your heart as it has mine.

Sweet Success!

I finished my novel. *phew*  This makes me a three-peat NaNoWriMo winner for whatever that's really worth. I know the next question on everyone's mind is, why don't you look to publish anything, but I'm still young and I'm learning and growing as a writer and I have a lot of learning and growing as a writer left to do.  I can honestly say that what I came up with in '08 was way better than what I composed in '07 and I think my '09 work, though possibly a weaker story, is probably better written than my '08.  Cheers to all those who NaNo-ed with me and special thanks to those that cheered me on along the way.  I got very close to giving up mid-month and probably would have without such cool people supporting me.

Some people might look at this accomplishment as just a silly game.  I wrote a crappy 96 page story, big whoop, right?  But aside from writing, NaNoWriMo is also about the focusing on a goal, dedication above distraction, and pursuing creative ideals.  If you look at the stats too, less than 20% of the participants that start NaNoWriMo actually reach the 50,000 word mark (last year was actually the record-high for wins with 18.2% of writers winning). So I guess that's worth at least a nod of admiration for sticking through what most abandon.  (But even those that don't reach 50K have something to be proud of.  As I've told friends, even if you write 1000 words for NaNoWriMo, that's 1000 words you would not have written otherwise!)

But I think I've put in enough words for today. I'll try to keep my prolific writing up with more blogs in the next month.  For now, break out the bubbly and join me in a toast to the wonderful world of writing!

I swear they aren't in kilts...

I love my laptop computer.  it's pretty much a dinosaur, weighs a ton of bricks, and offers me second-degree burns if I use eit on my lap too long, but i really do love the thing.  Most of my attachment to it is sentimental. I'veee covered it with some of my favorite stickers (NaNoWriMo onees, a goonies stickere, and NevereWear's Scary Trouseer one) so it has a fun and whimsical look to it and it's also been with me through somee fun times. I finisheed my '08 NaNowriMo on it and so far it's serving me weell through '09. 

And in a rare break from noveling, I'm using it to compose this blog entry now too. 

Which eexplains what you may have noticed that there aree some things looking a little eodd about my writing tonight.  I have a few sticky keys on my keyboard.  Namely, the shift key which makes for some rrather difficult capitalizations, as well as the 'e' and the 'r' keys which rrepeat themselves at odd increements with rather unpredictable frequenciesee. 

Of course, these arre things that are easy to corrrect, but i thought I would write this with no corrections just to show how amusing things can look if you geet rrandomly repetitive 'r's and 'e's into normal sentences.  In my novel it's been especially funny because thee word 'the' (corrected) more often then not comees across as 'thee'.  add in that with the rrolling 'rr' and it seeeems that most of my characters are speaking with Scottish accents.

So far though, none of them are wearring kilts.

35,000 words and counting....

NaNo Halfway and Something Different

I'm just past the 26,000 mark in my novel. I'm not having quite as much fun with the story as I did last year. I think it's one of the deals where I can't force humor, though in the right mood I can come up with some pretty amusing stuff. I guess I was just in a more lighthearted mood last year. But then, so was the rest of the country it seems...

This year is teaching me how much my emotions are tied to my writing.  When my energy levels are low, in walks writer's block.  When I feel a fit of giggles sneaking up on me, that's when I'll write the funny parts.  And when I'm just peacefully content, that's when I come up with the inventive adventuresome part.

In a note of encouragement, a friend told me that "you have to write a lot of crap before you get to be good", and in a strangely negative way it makes me feel better. I might be in the stage where I'm writing 'a lot of crap' right now, and that's okay.  What matters is that I am writing.

In a slightly related note, my friend Sean (who falls into the friends-that-write-way-better-than-me category) posted a facebook note about a fiction contest over at BoingBoing.net  It sounds like the prizes are essentially awarded at random, but I entered more as a chance to take on the challenge of writing a story in just 100 words.  It made a nice contrast to NaNoWriMo in which I'm often fluffing up ideas to boost word count.  The theme was "Found in Space" and here's what I composed (in about 12 minutes on my lunch break):

They would not have landed if the computer read ‘Uninhabitable', but the weary travelers needed a reprieve from decades floating in space. The natives looked and spoke like them - an amazing coincidence considering the multitude of tongues spoken in the galaxy – which made easy the procurement of food and fuel.

Six years later, they still lived in solitude. No aliens welcomed them, learned who they were or where they came from, so eventually they left. Their stop gave new meaning to the word ‘alienation’ - the only memory they would take with them from their brief time on Earth.

Okay back to my novel.

A Conversation

I was at the Naperville train station this morning going through one of my waiting-for-the-train routines of reading the headlines through the glass of the newspaper vending machines. The Chicago Sun Times and The Naperville Sun both displayed front page pictures of the flag display at rotary hill: 2009 flags on the hill for Veteran's Day 2009. As I looked at the beautiful photos, a stranger's voice behind me spoke up.

"Have you been over to see it yet?"

I glanced up and saw a young man, probably around my age or just past thirty at the oldest. I hesitate to admit it but he looked like my typical image of a young Naperville resident. His hair was shaggy and spiked with gel in the I-meant-to-look-messy way that seems popular now and his clothes appeared a combination of Abercrombie and Gap though no conspicuous labels were shown.

"No," I replied to his question. "But some of my friends visited and I saw some great pictures."

"It's amazing," he said plainly. There was no trace of awe or inspiration in his voice, it was as though he was stating simple fact, not opinion.

"They did a great job with it," I said gesturing to the pictures on the papers in front of us. "It's a really...powerful gesture." I searched for the right word, but 'powerful' seemed to convey the imagery created best.

"You got that right," he concurred. "Five years in the marines and I was moved to tears."

In a stroke of awful timing, he conveyed this last fact to me just as he turned to walk toward the train that pulled up behind us.

"Thank you!" I called after him, but aside from a brief nod of his head he had nothing more to add to our exchange. I hope sincerity echoed in my voice; sincerity, pride, and honor.

A brief pang of shame struck me as he walked away. I never would have guessed this young commuter was a veteran. If he were in full uniform I may have saluted, applauded or even bought him a morning coffee to show my appreciation. All I could do though was call out my hurried thanks over the shrieks and hiss of the train's brakes. I had inadvertently pegged him in my mind as a Naperville yuppie, the usual guy who elbows in front of me to get on the train first or pointedly ignores the opportunity to offer his seat when I'm standing in heels after a long day: the kind of commuter that I sometimes think should be a little nicer or a little kinder, the person I think owes me something ...when in fact I owe him so many of the freedoms I take for granted every day of my life.

Thank you to all the men and women that have served and are currently serving this country. Thank you to all those who have lost loved ones in the military. Your sacrifices are worth more than I can ever say.

Communication

"And I wonder where these dreams go, when the world gets in your way.
What's the point in all this screaming no one's listening anyway."
- Goo Goo Dolls, Acoustic #3
~~~~

Communication has been frustrating me lately. A lot.

Both at work and in my NaNoWriMo project. At work it's saying the same thing multiple ways and using every ounce of energy to explain yourself, only to be entirely unheard or misunderstood. In my writing, it's my frustrations with not being able to get the right descriptions out and feeling like whatever poetry I create is just a repeat of something that's been said or done before. So I'm frustrated. Feeling like I'm speaking and shouting and still can't get my point, my thoughts, my ideas out.

And then I realize that's probably how God feels most of the time.

Because it's not there.

On the brink of October ending, I have more on my mind than just Halloween. Once again I find myself pondering - and foolishly committing to - National Novel Writing Month, better known as NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo is a writing challenge to take the month of November and, by writing around 1700 words each day, write a 50,000 word novel. I've participated and "won" for the past two years (winning involves completing 50,000 words before midnight on November 30th) but I'm hesitant to participate again.

My first reason for stalling is that I don't have too many ideas. This is the first year that I've struggled to develop a title and though I've been working through some outlining and pre-writing, I just don't know if my ideas are any good. Secondly, I feel a bit like I've already completed two 50,000+ projects that are for the most part unreadable and in desperate need of editing. I've yet to take the steps of revisiting my work and polishing it so I feel a little senseless persuing another draft when my first two have gone nowhere.

But when I think about the fun involved of seeing a story come to life... when I take a day and write a character that I never even planned to create... there's a thrill to it. Yes, there are the frustrating days when I want to dropkick my laptop out the train door. Yes, there are the writer's block moments when I seem to plug out nothing but cheesy dialog. But when each day brings me closer to a novel - even a largely unreadable first draft of a novel - it's exciting. And completion is pure elation.

Funny thing is, as much as I like to write and to write about writing, I don't like to talk about my novel. I think it's near impossible to say the words "my novel" outloud without sounding a bit pretentious. Go ahead try it, "The other day I was working on my novel..." - don't you instantly sound a bit more full of yourself? Maybe it's just me. My writer identity (I still can't use the word *author*) isn't one I'm completely comfortable with. A sure fire way to make me blush is to bring up my writing in public.

I'm giving it another go, though. I came across a quote the other day that read, "Why do writers write? Because it isn't there." For me, that's what NaNoWriMo is about. I'm not pursuing publication. I don't even write for an audience. It's just about me creating something new. Because it isn't there.

About to Break

I cannot take this anymore, I'm saying everything I've said before,
All these words they make no sense, I found bliss in ignorance,
Less I hear the less you'll say, but you'll find that out anyway!
Just like before…
Everything you say to me, takes me one step closer to the edge,
And I'm about to break!
I need a little room to breathe, 'cause I'm one step closer to the edge,
And I'm about to break!
I find the answers aren't so clear, wish I could find a way to disappear,
All these thoughts they make no sense, I found bliss in ignorance,
Nothing seems to go away, Over and over again,
Just like before…
~Linkin Park

I don't always listen to angry punk rock music, but I actually really like Linkin Park. This song got me thinking though. What do you do when you feel like you're about to break? I know we've all been there at one point or another. And if you're lucky enough to have a long enough fuse that you've never been in a spot where the powder keg of your mind was about to blow from the pressures around you, share your secrets because I'm sure the rest of us are quite curious.

For me, I just get stressed sometimes. I let little things worry me more than they should. I let expectations from others take a greater priority than God's image of me. And I get to thinking that I'm way more important than I am - that the world can't go on without me running at a frantic pace. This week has been one such stress-fest. Work would be infinitely easier if I could be in two places at once - or at least manage to grow an extra pair of arms. I started to think I could stand being the world's first octopus-human hybrid just to improve my ability to multitask. That's when I realized I needed some perspective.

I took the day off on Thursday. My awesome husband Tony was at home (he starts a new job on Monday) and I decided nothing at work was more important than spending some free time with him - and regaining my sanity with much needed rest. I cleared my schedule by working my butt off on Wednesday and spent Thursday relaxing. Seriously, I did next to nothing. I slept til nine, stayed in my pj's until noon, caught up on the previous two episodes of Top Chef, did some reading, and worked on a blanket I'm crocheting. It was awesome.

I realized I've only had three non-sick days off work this whole year so far and my longest "vacation" was July's bout with Poison Ivy. (I was on way to many drugs to actually enjoy that time off.) But overworking was not me getting more done. It was me burning myself out. Pushing myself to get more done until I was wound up so tight that the smallest things set me snapping unfairly at others. I needed rest. True rest.

I realized that this is why God created a Sabbath. It sounds corny because I know I've heard it preached in church multiple times, but I haven't seen that scary work-a-holic side of myself in a long time. It struck me though as truly awesome that He recognized, way back then, our need for rest. I don't treat my weekends as very Holy - more often they are days to catch up on dishes, laundry, groceries, and family affairs. It's something I need to change.

Before I break, I need to break - break from my routine of stress, overwork, and pressure. As I mentioned in my last post, I need to set aside times of reflection in my life.
I need times of peace.
I need breaks.