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| I was emptying out boxes in the basement, boxes that have not been opened in many many years. For me, some of the boxes I had packed up when I graduated high school. Notebooks lined with cryptic notes, doodles, song lyrics, and poorly written poems to God have provided hours of nostalgic entertainment. It is hard for me to part with these things now as they just opened a time portal. Like a time capsule, most of it has been completely untouched. And while i was sorting and shifting through the crap, such as my high school backpack that still had 3 empty tic tac containers, I was struck by the fact that if anyone wanted to know me, this would be an ideal way to look into the days that shaped me. The notes in the margins define my heart in a way I can never explain.
And I suddenly began to wish I had someone to share the thoughts and dreams of yesteryear with.
As that thought settled in, I quickly moved on to more common thought processes, and in doing so I started complaining to my brother about my lame lack of romance. Luckily He has brought to my attention what the problem is.
me: (whining) Why? why? why don't boys like me??
daniel: (leans in and whispers) Because... you don't like meat.
So there you have it. If only I ate meat, I could be sharing these tender moments with Prince Charming. I mean, seriously a bit of hamburger, a bit of man enjoying the algebra, monty python quotes and prayer request scattered across the same page in my 11th grade notebook. Oh if only, if only i had known.
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| Thursday I got the call... "Amy, I think I need to get away for a bit, wanna come with?"
I said "sure, why not?"
The next morning, October dawned full of promise. A bit chilly and cloudy but a full on lovely fall day. We got on the bike at 11am and headed out, setting our sights farther down 95 than was really reasonable for an ancient sports bike.
Gloves and helmets, fall air and an engine beneath me, and we were off.
"We aren't stopping till we get there..." He said. I laughed in anticipation of the day ahead.
An hour later we pulled off at a rest stop in Connecticut, snot flowing from my chilly nose, and my left leg asleep from the riding position. "This may have been a bit misguided." He said as we shivered in the rest area, trying to warm up. I added another layer, and tugged up my hood under the helmet.
Back on the bike, my body grumbled at the idea of going further with an admittedly stupid plan, but my adventuring spirit out ruled my body's whines. We were off again.
Another hour, another rest stop.. "This was ill-conceived." he muttered. I shivered my ascent. But logic had been left behind in RI, so once again we braved the cold air rushing past as the bike spluttered over 90mph on our way down 95. My left leg was asleep so I didn't bother to wake it, but sang out Bohemian Rhapsody to pass the time.
The NY state line hit, as did the true absurdity of the plan we had set out upon. There was no turning back so we headed for the Tapenzee. And then the world opened up, as we rounded the corner to see the Hudson. It was like seeing for the first time. The Tapenzee in car is one thing, but it is another matter entirely when all you can see is river and mountain and bridge and engine. I don't think I can ever imgaine a more breath taking sight.
"Absurd, but worth it." I thought.
In Nyack, we met up with a dear friend from the Teen Mania days, and my heart felt like it was being melted as we talked about the post-TM process of learning to re-find God, and the love for him that consumes you and changes you, despite the darkness you so often find yourself bending towards. It felt like refreshing rain.
We ate dinner over looking the Hudson river. The sunset turning the sky pink and yellow and dusty purple, and river with the sky. A rainbow dipped clouds down into the water, a wide band of promise reminding me the incredible holy love of God. It took my breath away.
We rode into NYC, mezerized by the colors of the city, the geometric blocks of lights that the skyscrapers cast on the night sky marbled with clouds. We sat in Times Square and watched the taxis, the people, the lights.
Braving city traffic we rode the bike into the village, met up with another old friend for a beer and a cupcake. We talked about the past, about the future and the days in between.
Then we suited up again, bracing for the night cold air as we rode back to Nyack.
Again I got lost for hours in conversations that my soul as been longing to have talking with such a dear sister about the struggles, and the overwhelming decision that at all costs it is Christ first, Christ forever.
I slept on the floor, my muscles weary from riding still chilled from the cold. I woke up to the offer of a clean towel and hot shower, hospitality again amazing my heart like the Tapenzee had amazed my eyes.
Coffee and Chapel in the morning, left us prepared for the long ride home. Filled with something I had forgotten, the deep hope that despite the mess of my life, the Lord is looking down on me, as his child, as his prized possession, one that he willingly endured the cross to redeem from death through no merit of my own, and despite all the times I rejected and abused and turned from him, he took me back, and loved me. Majesty and meekness is a mighty thing.
On the ride back we stopped, an hour in, my bum sore from riding, my face rosy from cold air rushing past. "If we make it back this might not have been such a bad idea." He said, and I laughed.
We stopped again halfway through Connecticut, "It was kind of enjoyable." we agreed as we shared a McDonalds coffee in hopes that the cold in our bones would be absorbed into the heat of the cheap brew.
When we finally pulled into the driveway at home, my muscles were spasming from the pain of the ride, and I was shivering uncontrollably. "I think this adventure was a raging, huge, EPIC, success." He said and I could not help but to agree.
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| In an interesting turn of events, I just found this morning that I did not, in fact, graduate from URI in May as I had thought. I have pictures, I still have the cap and gown, I have my family's loving support in my attempts to find a job as I enter the scary world of establishing a career.
It just seems that URI did not know it.
When sorting through another box of junk from the move, I came across an orange slip saying "FAILURE TO GRADUATE"
I had never seen it before, but thankfully, as an intense panic set in, it had a phone number to call. And call I did.
The phone conversation was ugly, so I will only share with you the excerpts....
Me: what do you mean I did not get credit? I talked to French Dude, Whathisname...
URI: Phillipe Durand, yes.
ME: He GAVE ME the credits. I know because it was a nightmare to get them.
URI: Well... um.... it says here... oh hold on....
-long silence-
URI rep: One of the classes transferred.
ME: and the other?
URI: huh.... that's weird. It is transferred as 202 not 203. There isn't a 202.
ME: ..... Are you trying to say I did not graduate because of a TYPO?'
-long, long awkward pause-
URI: I think we can fix this, but you will have to fill out the form again.
ME: NO.
After another lengthy verbal sparing, she mentioned that the Film Dept Chair had changed, yet again, making this the FOURTH chair I will have had to deal with in the two years I have been pursuing the film degree.
Luckily, the current chair is the very first film professor I ever had, an Art Professor who gets it.... She remembered me, and after I fumed about the absurdity and complete incompetence of the whole system, we had a chat about movie making, and she sent off an email that should, fingers crossed, take care of this.
If that doesn't somehow get turned around and jumbled and shredded and made into a party hat for a fiesta in the Dean's office I will be shocked.... More over if it goes through correctly, I might be able to squeak in for an "August Graduate" diploma.
If not, I will have to re-take a class I have already taken, and I will be graduating from URI.... again.... in December.
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| I am three days away from wrapping on the first feature length film I have ever worked on.
To say that it has been exhausting would be an understatement, with consistently 12+ hours a day, many times as much as 16 hours, six days a week. Added to that scheduling difficulties and setbacks made them cut the day off for the past two weeks, meaning that I have been working at least 90hours a week.... For 6 weeks.
This has not been easy, it has been difficult, challenging, and has forced me to take a good look at myself, allowing me to see somethings, things like how I function under pressure, where my limitations are, the way I view people, friendship, relationships, and many, many, many other things.
I have failed repeatedly through this marathon. It isn't over yet, and I admit wholeheartedly that I am genuinely struggling to stay awake, let alone deal with actors, issues, and everything else. Any issues outside of this film I literally have no ability to deal with or even think about.
The previous post was referring to a boy in my life, that I had become serious about, We were dating, and I did hurt him quite deeply during the second week of filming. He actually forgave me, but unfortunately the work it takes to rebuild a relationship from that kind of a blow is more than what I can give right now. It takes a lot to even send off a text message most of the time. Right now i am taking my lunch break to post this, simply because it so much on my heart.
Two nights ago we broke up. He said things had changed, and that is true. And to be completely honest, I did not miss him yesterday when everything went crazy it was simply one last thing to think about... But this morning I woke and felt the heaviness of letting it go. It was really genuinely something good, something wonderful at the beginning, and I can't help but to feel like I killed it.... I am 3 days away from the insanity ending, and I just wish we could have lasted long enough to sit down and talk about it.
I don't know, I just feel tired and sad, mourning something, something I lost the in the fire, because as the building of my life collapses around me, I could not find a way to save it.
Was it worth it, for a movie? I doubt it, and that really grieves me.
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