Who has tasted the delightful zest of freedom
To laugh in solitude and enjoy a minute of rapture
For no apparent reason
Only responding to your own choosing
And then enjoy another minute and then another minute
Til you can do nothing but declare in awe
That Life is beautiful
A world without second guessing, the present pressing a kiss
A breath bringing ecstasy by the simple awareness of existence
Standing in the design of power and compassion
As an architect of mansions of thought
Where you mind wine cellars of wisdom
Timing choice bottles for celebrations on landscaped intentions
The library of your peaceful musings opens out to a courtyard of life
Where you admire prize roses
Thorns and all
Who will play architect, gardener, master, artist, maestro
In houses of thoughts moving through and fro?
Mansion or hut
Make a stand
Built on rock
Or designed on sand
Copyright ©2005 J. R. Hollyday
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
24 Hours of Life
I found the Albeniz piece... It is staccato heaven or hell (depending if you are a half glass full or empty sort of person.) It's an easy read but technically how to make staccato sound magical without going adrift on autopilot. Maybe I think too much....
J had called to put me on the list for a fashion magazine's private party. I was planning on spending the evening with E. while he packed for his trip to the east coast but he had a lot to prepare and I still have my homework for Bible study. And though it's fun to get out for Los Angeles culture, I am such a comfortable kitty in my house with my piano. I also didn't feel like getting all pretty to hang out with the beautiful people. It's fashion week in Los Angeles and tonight I feel as sexy as a tea cozy. What a dilemma.
Talked to E. in New York to say that I'll be visiting in November. My favorite boy next door lives in NYC. It was his birthday. I miss him. I told him he was my boyfriend for the past 5 years. I just didn't appreciate it. But it was and always had been platonic. Telling him that he was boyfriend material is a compliment. He would get me out of the house just when I think I've successfully mastered my disappearing powers. And he co-hosted every party I had until he moved. My circles became his and vice versa. Life is so much more quieter now. I hadn't realized the many little ways he made my life easier.
It was interesting being part of a discussion on choice and creating possibilities with children that I volunteer my Tuesday nights. Young people say the darndest things being so unapologetically real and are very sensitive yet strong. I had an evening of very dynamic and different, sweet personalities. Tuesdays usually end at midnight for me.
I came home and was inspired to clean until 3am. I don't drink coffee. I don't know where my "off" switch is...
It's N's and A's birthday this weekend and I'm hosting the party. So far, about 20 people have RSVP'd. I'll probably have 30 or so guests coming by to say hello. I'm looking forward to it. Every get-together is different.
I am in a new writing phase. My head is in a different place with so many things going on. My teaching practice is growing and I think I'll be able to meet many of my March goals. I have friends excited about taking the juice that I have already been raving about this past year. And so there's growing energy going on in that part of my world.. (thelivingwell.net)
I have a lot of exciting conversations going on, wondering where to take them and a lot of new people in my life. I have a lot of commitments.
E and I are practicing our footing with one another... going "beyond solo". It's a dance that has my attention.. My homework for today is to call him at 5:20am to wake him up to help him ready for his trip.
N and I are fixing up the patio for the weekend. It used to be enclosed and was a nice warm "outdoorsy room" but had gone through a lot of neglect and was looking "ghetto." The building manager had it torn down last week. We're happy with what they built in place but it is windy and my plants are dying. N' has a new boyfriend who helped clean and move things around. He stayed over late to help fix things up.
S. called to say that his mother has cancer. In between all the busy stuff I have going on, this weighs the most on my heart. We're going to do everything we can to lift her quality of life and hope that it was caught in enough time. I feel so sad with him. He's stopped taking any playing gigs and is strictly teaching so that he can look after his mother. I know he adores his mother. And despite his tiredness and the crazyness his life has been to alter his schedule for his mother, I don't see his tiredness.... rather his tirelessness. And I think how beautifully he loves her.
He is her only son; her only child and the thought of a friend without their mother is the saddest thought I know.
JNET
J had called to put me on the list for a fashion magazine's private party. I was planning on spending the evening with E. while he packed for his trip to the east coast but he had a lot to prepare and I still have my homework for Bible study. And though it's fun to get out for Los Angeles culture, I am such a comfortable kitty in my house with my piano. I also didn't feel like getting all pretty to hang out with the beautiful people. It's fashion week in Los Angeles and tonight I feel as sexy as a tea cozy. What a dilemma.
Talked to E. in New York to say that I'll be visiting in November. My favorite boy next door lives in NYC. It was his birthday. I miss him. I told him he was my boyfriend for the past 5 years. I just didn't appreciate it. But it was and always had been platonic. Telling him that he was boyfriend material is a compliment. He would get me out of the house just when I think I've successfully mastered my disappearing powers. And he co-hosted every party I had until he moved. My circles became his and vice versa. Life is so much more quieter now. I hadn't realized the many little ways he made my life easier.
It was interesting being part of a discussion on choice and creating possibilities with children that I volunteer my Tuesday nights. Young people say the darndest things being so unapologetically real and are very sensitive yet strong. I had an evening of very dynamic and different, sweet personalities. Tuesdays usually end at midnight for me.
I came home and was inspired to clean until 3am. I don't drink coffee. I don't know where my "off" switch is...
It's N's and A's birthday this weekend and I'm hosting the party. So far, about 20 people have RSVP'd. I'll probably have 30 or so guests coming by to say hello. I'm looking forward to it. Every get-together is different.
I am in a new writing phase. My head is in a different place with so many things going on. My teaching practice is growing and I think I'll be able to meet many of my March goals. I have friends excited about taking the juice that I have already been raving about this past year. And so there's growing energy going on in that part of my world.. (thelivingwell.net)
I have a lot of exciting conversations going on, wondering where to take them and a lot of new people in my life. I have a lot of commitments.
E and I are practicing our footing with one another... going "beyond solo". It's a dance that has my attention.. My homework for today is to call him at 5:20am to wake him up to help him ready for his trip.
N and I are fixing up the patio for the weekend. It used to be enclosed and was a nice warm "outdoorsy room" but had gone through a lot of neglect and was looking "ghetto." The building manager had it torn down last week. We're happy with what they built in place but it is windy and my plants are dying. N' has a new boyfriend who helped clean and move things around. He stayed over late to help fix things up.
S. called to say that his mother has cancer. In between all the busy stuff I have going on, this weighs the most on my heart. We're going to do everything we can to lift her quality of life and hope that it was caught in enough time. I feel so sad with him. He's stopped taking any playing gigs and is strictly teaching so that he can look after his mother. I know he adores his mother. And despite his tiredness and the crazyness his life has been to alter his schedule for his mother, I don't see his tiredness.... rather his tirelessness. And I think how beautifully he loves her.
He is her only son; her only child and the thought of a friend without their mother is the saddest thought I know.
JNET
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Endeared Anomaly
Thurs: Bible study (BSF)... lunch w/ Z... taught for a few hours... N's bowling birthday bash.
Fri: morning piano coaching session w/M... It was an interesting lesson.. I didn't play as well as I wanted because I was wearing an outdated pair of glasses. The music was a blur. I had my redeeming moments and I was excited to go home to practice.
did shopping errands... I did the total mad run about Studio City. Thank God I can get most everything done within a 2 mile radius. Friday is my only off day to catch up with myself.
practiced...
made lunch and spent the afternoon w/ E and stopped time for a few hours... he played "Recuerdos de la Alhambra".. which always moves me...and Albéniz's "Asturias"... originally written for piano.. gorgeous... I'll find the music this week. It was a pleasure to be treated to a home concert.
it was a sweet afternoon... the conversation and being present with one another always surprises me. ..receiving the highest respect and treated also as an equal, we get excited over our individual projects and plan projects together... share information to encourage and leverage one another or how it's been termed from our EMI workshops "loveraged"... though we are a paradoxically unsentimental pair.
we get utterly serious and then absolutely silly within the same hour. it's refreshing... complaints don't get indulged and if something doesn't seem to have autonomy; it is discussed and we create a search party for a solution. it's fun... two objectivists playing on a canvas.
practiced after E. left... I went to the Brand Library to see Sasha's doctoral recital for violin performance. It's been a couple of years of friendship between us now. I like how we've grown our friendship. We relate to one another in similar fashion to E and I... affection, respect, authenticity.... just a different shade of color.
He gave a great performance. I especially enjoyed his last piece, Shostakovich's "Trio in e minor, Op. 67" for violin, cello and piano. I met his girlfriend for the first time. She is very sweet and a great pianist. The "Allegretto" was very exciting... absolutely mad genius.
I was really proud of Sasha... The recital was at 8pm.. He was at the hospital until 4pm with his mother. He is such a good son. I am so moved how he takes care of her while she is sick, forgoing any celebrations with his friends while he considers that his mother is about to have surgery... admirable.... how both he and his girlfriend are taking care of his mother.
I went to Clear to meet J at 10:30pm. I took off the black long dress and put on the velvet purple mini dress and walked to the bar for a birthday celebration to see old friends and make new ones. I was bored by midnight. The bar scene is rare for me. It was wall to wall beautiful people and J hadn't arrived. But a group of guys noticed that I looked lost and adopted me into their fold until my friends arrived. They were nice. They seemed shocked to meet someone like me in Los Angeles but were happy to talk about philosophy, books, and Los Angeles culture with me.
J finally arrived with her entourage dressed to stop traffic. And so began the evening where I, Alice, ventures into Wonderland. Yes, I followed the White Rabbit and found myself at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I am the endeared anomaly. Our humanity was refreshingly on the table at a nakedness that surpassed the beautiful CJ who was sprawled on the couch in uninhibited comfort...
"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly
Like a tea-tray in the sky."
Lewis Carroll
We shared stories, read poetry to one another, talked about our dreams and projects... It was an honest and indulgent night. Magical. Sweet people. I didn't get home until 5am. I slept until 10am and then got up to start the day, practicing, reading, studying.... I missed my 9am conference call. arrgh. oh well. That's when I started reading my new books that just arrived through the mail. I'm looking forward to getting into bed and continuing another chapter. I think I'll write about what I'm learning tomorrow.
JNET
Friday, March 11, 2005
PHOTOS: Lucky Strikes' Queen Pin, Nicole!
Nicole's Bowling Birthday Bash at Hollywood's Lucky Strikes.
Queen (Pins) for a Day: (l. to r.) Rebecca, Roque, Lola, Nicole, Rochelle, Anita, Nicole, me, Mandy and Ana.
Last night was a great night at Lucky Strikes. It was my friend, Nicole's birthday. We donned our bowling shoes, ordered drinks and played, played, played. So much fun to be had when in the company good friends.
.
Hey, you'd be smiling too if you were surrounded by beautiful women! (l. to r.) Roque, Leana, Darryl, Nicole, me, Nicole.
Anita rules the lanes, so she had to wear her bowling shirt!
Some more peeps came by to celebrate! (l. to r.) Shawna, Tosha, Nicole and Roque.
Say cheese! (l. to r.) Gordon, Darryl, Jeff, Nicole, Rebecca (squatting) Bryan, Rochelle and Justin.
Jeff and Nicole. Cheers!!!
Sunday, March 6, 2005
The Innocence of Self-Expression
There is an innocence in being self-expressed. A freedom from fear and convention.
Today, I visited my mom. She wanted me to play her piano which she had just tuned. I opened the piano bench and found a couple of piano pieces that a boyfriend from the past composed for me. There between two pieces of white cardboard, bound by gold ribbon and tape roll, E. wrote his heart out to me in notes.
"Expressivo et amorioso"...a 17 year old wrote in pencil… "andante"… Every single note was a dedication to me, his muse… a 16 year old girl. He titled his piece to me in French, Troisieme Serenade Semplice… Á Mademoiselle Jeannette… by E. He was my first boyfriend. He wrote poetry for me. There were a few of his writings to me there with his music I had shoved another poem in the collection that was dedicated to “jeannette, my bestest friend”… that was from D. a friend who I traded piano lessons in exchange for violin lessons.
I found a box which included many more of E’s poems, a few written in French. I found some drawings and more poems from more boys.
I am glad that I didn't throw away these immortalized feelings put to art. This.. from the hearts of young love. This is the poem that E taped to the cardboard back cover..
Who will replace the mysterious Muses
Now that mythology has gone?
Inspiration was the game they played
Talent being their pawn.
They would fill a man's heart
With a passion to create;
In which he would share his joy
With those he loved feelings great.
All that's left of the Muses
Is a spirit of creating talents jubilee;
A spirit of inspiring others
Which lies in fair damsels such as thee.
E.
He wrote this on three ringed, lined school paper and taped it to his composition. I remember now how he sat with me to read it to me and then he played the piece.
This is what D. wrote to me, his "bestest friend."
I come to you, a jacaranda tree,
Behold thy beauty in a morning dew.
With painted fingers reaching out from thee,
To touch the Heavens with thy velvet hues.
Why is it that God favors thee before
All else that is His own? To shape thee with
Such twisted grace, a beauty all the more;
A mem'ry of the Eden lost: thy pith.
You stand there bent in beauty, mocking all
That gazes on as if thee God Himself.
I tell you, I would love to see thee fall;
Thine grip to slip from Heaven to thyself.
For this I come: to cut you down from here,
For mediocrity is less to fear.
D. signed his poem with the "composer's name" that he wanted to use when he grew up. He gave me a tape of music he composed that he had a string trio play for him to record. I remember that I was a bit confused to be receiving a poem from a friend and that I didn't know what a jacaranda tree was.
I imagine him typing this on his parent's typewriter, indenting it and taking such care in his presentation. He chose a very nice linen heavy paper and penned his fancy name. I spilt hot cocoa on it and stuffed it into my piano bench.
I am a bit sad that I wasn't present to the beauty that was being given to me. But I was young and thinking about school and planning for college. I moved across the country and got absorbed into a new world.
I find these things now because my mom is remodeling her house and I'm finally going through my belongings. I find the innocence of self-expression profound.
JNET
Today, I visited my mom. She wanted me to play her piano which she had just tuned. I opened the piano bench and found a couple of piano pieces that a boyfriend from the past composed for me. There between two pieces of white cardboard, bound by gold ribbon and tape roll, E. wrote his heart out to me in notes.
"Expressivo et amorioso"...a 17 year old wrote in pencil… "andante"… Every single note was a dedication to me, his muse… a 16 year old girl. He titled his piece to me in French, Troisieme Serenade Semplice… Á Mademoiselle Jeannette… by E. He was my first boyfriend. He wrote poetry for me. There were a few of his writings to me there with his music I had shoved another poem in the collection that was dedicated to “jeannette, my bestest friend”… that was from D. a friend who I traded piano lessons in exchange for violin lessons.
I found a box which included many more of E’s poems, a few written in French. I found some drawings and more poems from more boys.
I am glad that I didn't throw away these immortalized feelings put to art. This.. from the hearts of young love. This is the poem that E taped to the cardboard back cover..
Who will replace the mysterious Muses
Now that mythology has gone?
Inspiration was the game they played
Talent being their pawn.
They would fill a man's heart
With a passion to create;
In which he would share his joy
With those he loved feelings great.
All that's left of the Muses
Is a spirit of creating talents jubilee;
A spirit of inspiring others
Which lies in fair damsels such as thee.
E.
He wrote this on three ringed, lined school paper and taped it to his composition. I remember now how he sat with me to read it to me and then he played the piece.
This is what D. wrote to me, his "bestest friend."
I come to you, a jacaranda tree,
Behold thy beauty in a morning dew.
With painted fingers reaching out from thee,
To touch the Heavens with thy velvet hues.
Why is it that God favors thee before
All else that is His own? To shape thee with
Such twisted grace, a beauty all the more;
A mem'ry of the Eden lost: thy pith.
You stand there bent in beauty, mocking all
That gazes on as if thee God Himself.
I tell you, I would love to see thee fall;
Thine grip to slip from Heaven to thyself.
For this I come: to cut you down from here,
For mediocrity is less to fear.
D. signed his poem with the "composer's name" that he wanted to use when he grew up. He gave me a tape of music he composed that he had a string trio play for him to record. I remember that I was a bit confused to be receiving a poem from a friend and that I didn't know what a jacaranda tree was.
I imagine him typing this on his parent's typewriter, indenting it and taking such care in his presentation. He chose a very nice linen heavy paper and penned his fancy name. I spilt hot cocoa on it and stuffed it into my piano bench.
I am a bit sad that I wasn't present to the beauty that was being given to me. But I was young and thinking about school and planning for college. I moved across the country and got absorbed into a new world.
I find these things now because my mom is remodeling her house and I'm finally going through my belongings. I find the innocence of self-expression profound.
JNET
Saturday, March 5, 2005
It's Raining STILL
The rain came down in buckets today. AGAIN.
And life is beautiful.
A. and I spent the past evening pondering "what is reality" and "creating doors of opportunity" and "confronting fear"... My friend, interestingly pursues having nightmares. His theory is that when he wakes up he is grateful of his present happiness. When he has good dreams, on the other hand, he wakes up disappointed to leave the happiness he experienced in his dream. What a strange way of thinking.
E. came over for lunch and we did what we do best. DREAM and toasted to a beautiful abundant future. He is leaving for the XYZ Academy having been selected for a young entrepreneurs retreat. That's very exciting. And, he is so modest. How sexy is that? A lot sweeter and positive than my nightmare adoring friend.
We talked about "living outside the box"..."creating different roles in life to live and enjoy", my allergies to dating, frustration with lots of attention, and my writing. It was a great day for a run in. Somehow, despite the grayest day, being with E intrigues me with sunshine. Something about him warms me and I oddly don't feel claustrophobic; I feel creative. I want to be with him but I am inspired that I cannot be with him.
I think he's perfect and everything in life as well.
It's raining. It's cold.
Life is fascinating. And spring is in the air.
I love it!
JNET
And life is beautiful.
A. and I spent the past evening pondering "what is reality" and "creating doors of opportunity" and "confronting fear"... My friend, interestingly pursues having nightmares. His theory is that when he wakes up he is grateful of his present happiness. When he has good dreams, on the other hand, he wakes up disappointed to leave the happiness he experienced in his dream. What a strange way of thinking.
E. came over for lunch and we did what we do best. DREAM and toasted to a beautiful abundant future. He is leaving for the XYZ Academy having been selected for a young entrepreneurs retreat. That's very exciting. And, he is so modest. How sexy is that? A lot sweeter and positive than my nightmare adoring friend.
We talked about "living outside the box"..."creating different roles in life to live and enjoy", my allergies to dating, frustration with lots of attention, and my writing. It was a great day for a run in. Somehow, despite the grayest day, being with E intrigues me with sunshine. Something about him warms me and I oddly don't feel claustrophobic; I feel creative. I want to be with him but I am inspired that I cannot be with him.
I think he's perfect and everything in life as well.
It's raining. It's cold.
Life is fascinating. And spring is in the air.
I love it!
JNET
Thursday, March 3, 2005
Sniffle Sniffle
I think that I am allergic to dating.
So the oddest occurance has just happened. The planets must be aligned like a curve ball. I'm getting sooo much attention from the male species this week, I am wondering what I've done to command this. The standing statistic until today was that one half of one percent of guys will call after asking for my number. I was a bit relieved to have that predictability. It meant more freedom to read, think and play the piano.
This week feels like I'm the only girl on the planet. I've barely talked to my girlfriends this week that I wonder if they've turned into men. This week just gets stranger.
It's allergy season. The weather is crazy. There's is nothing wrong nor special about me and guys this week. My immune system is simply being challenged and therefore my thoughts are susceptible to loopy notions.
I had a passing thought wishing I had a boyfriend for the sole reason that it creates a super invisible force field... better than my hat and overcoat.
So the oddest occurance has just happened. The planets must be aligned like a curve ball. I'm getting sooo much attention from the male species this week, I am wondering what I've done to command this. The standing statistic until today was that one half of one percent of guys will call after asking for my number. I was a bit relieved to have that predictability. It meant more freedom to read, think and play the piano.
This week feels like I'm the only girl on the planet. I've barely talked to my girlfriends this week that I wonder if they've turned into men. This week just gets stranger.
It's allergy season. The weather is crazy. There's is nothing wrong nor special about me and guys this week. My immune system is simply being challenged and therefore my thoughts are susceptible to loopy notions.
I had a passing thought wishing I had a boyfriend for the sole reason that it creates a super invisible force field... better than my hat and overcoat.
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
Broken Glasses and No Path To Beverly Hills
I accidentally broke my glasses yesterday. I'll spare you the embarrassing details. It was the first time in my life that I felt sad over glasses. I hadn't realized that I had liked this pair. They are my sexy geek pair. They are as light as a paperclip, frameless and they change from clear to darker in the sun. They also cost a pretty penny...a gorgeous quarter....a fine dollar.
Anyway, my optometist is just up the road through the canyon in Beverly Hills. The road unfortunately has been closed down due to some horrible hillside happening. I think a few houses have slipped due to rains and converged for a block party. So now my normally 10 minute drive has turned into a 40 minute opportunity and that's not considering the new traffic the alternate canyons will have due to Laurel Canyon's closure.
ho hum
I woke up at 7am this morning. Too early to begin practicing though the 90 year old upstairs has been playing a mix of Madonna, techno, and 80's nostalgia ALL NIGHT LONG. I hope he's alright. Sometimes I wonder if he's simply hard of hearing, has fallen somewhere near his stereo and is using it to call for help, doing a little bit of neighborly protest....or is simply the boogie granddad of the community.
Today is my busiest day. I have a piano lesson in a few hours. I should get out of bed and practice but I am in resistence to the rest of the day, seven students, Los Angeles traffic, the last part of my day driving the 405 to get to LAX where I'll later volunteer time at Landmark Education with the children's program. My day will end about midnight and then I'll drive home....
It's another week. Will my crush call or any of the others? hmmm. Maybe they broke their glasses and can't quite read the phone number. I'm off to practice. Maybe I'll write more tonight.
Anyway, my optometist is just up the road through the canyon in Beverly Hills. The road unfortunately has been closed down due to some horrible hillside happening. I think a few houses have slipped due to rains and converged for a block party. So now my normally 10 minute drive has turned into a 40 minute opportunity and that's not considering the new traffic the alternate canyons will have due to Laurel Canyon's closure.
ho hum
I woke up at 7am this morning. Too early to begin practicing though the 90 year old upstairs has been playing a mix of Madonna, techno, and 80's nostalgia ALL NIGHT LONG. I hope he's alright. Sometimes I wonder if he's simply hard of hearing, has fallen somewhere near his stereo and is using it to call for help, doing a little bit of neighborly protest....or is simply the boogie granddad of the community.
Today is my busiest day. I have a piano lesson in a few hours. I should get out of bed and practice but I am in resistence to the rest of the day, seven students, Los Angeles traffic, the last part of my day driving the 405 to get to LAX where I'll later volunteer time at Landmark Education with the children's program. My day will end about midnight and then I'll drive home....
It's another week. Will my crush call or any of the others? hmmm. Maybe they broke their glasses and can't quite read the phone number. I'm off to practice. Maybe I'll write more tonight.
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