We Sing Sea Songs & Sea Chanties

Tonight I'm thinking about death, and dying. An oddly common theme since Christmas. Indirectly, anyway. 

So, I spent this weekend at a youth traditional song festival. My acting coach roped me in to his monthly song circle awhile back and I wanted an opportunity to immerse myself in the folkiness in an effort to gain familiarity with the form and repertoire beyond the limits of my church roots. It turned out to be a letting overwhelming, in the way that comicon might be to someone who has just read their first superman. This morning was particularly interesting. We had a gospel group sing (in honor of it being Sunday, and all). Not a lot of Church of Christ-esque tunes to be found. For a few people this may have been a time of worship to a Christian god, but for most, it was just a theme from which to draw their contributions. Most of the people may identify as religious, (though the only people to define their spirituality to me were Jewish), but not at all religious the way I was raised. A good deal of traditional music does reference god, gods, or religious beliefs without being considered a hymn, or gospel, and the singers treated the material with such labels just as they would treat any song they lead. In fact, many songs that might be considered sacred or spiritual, may not acknowledge a higher power at all. You might even say, religion in these songs is treated like any superstition of a bygone era. Or you might not. To each, her own. 

Which brings me to this quandary on death. One song that was sung on several occasions this weekend, kind of a crowd favorite 'Death Came a'Knockin'

http://youtu.be/2h4TLr7K3W8 (There's probably a better version out there, but here's an example if you want. We sang it a capella with lots of stomping.)

Summary: 

So, death comes knocking on someone's door asking if they're ready to go. They buckle their shoes and cross over. 

Chorus:

And they shout, 'Hallelujah! I've done my duty, put on my travelin' shoes.'

Tonight I'm thinking about how, if we use cultural myth to explain our existence and maintain societal norms, etc, one of it's greatest jobs is to guide us through the process of dying. Watching others die, and preparing us for our own death. 

Death: humanity's great fear, and it's great relief. 

So, what if you're not religious, what if you have no mythic legend to guide your morbid thoughts?

Why, without the pearly gates, does the fear not overwhelm? 

In writing this, I think I've answered my own question. Like the songs, our myths are expression of human feeling, not necessarily bound in themselves. We already believe in the relief, and respect the fear. Maybe that's another definition of god: the great unknown. 

And now, a (pirate) resurrection song!

http://youtu.be/Fhop5VuLDIQ

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again!

Rise again! Rise again! 

Though your heart it be broken and life about to end.
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again!

Je suis retournee miya blogospheric druzia!

If you didn't know, one of my favorite things to do is create sentences using as many different languages as possible. Ten points per language identification ;)

Today is my last day with my man for the hols. We're getting a small break from family by getting a hotel for the night. Weather was not favorable for driving back from the city tonight and I'm leaving for home sweet Brooklyn in the morning. We had a wonderful time getting to see almost everyone, but it has been the most exhausting holiday in my memory. Is this adulthood? No wonder 'bah, humbug' became a thing! Only kidding. But really. So much hustle and bustle. Not enough hugs and laughter.

This is mostly due to the fact that this year's holiday visits = wedding planning scramble. There are so many options yet so few that work out as you delve into the details. How many details do you change to make something work?

Tonight we met for dinner between shows. Bellies full of hot stone bowl bibimbap, we decided to stop in for a cupcake. I made it halfway through my Philly Fetti funfettied vanilla butercream complete with edible glitter concoction. Saving it for late night snack. Even completely full the crispy post-snow air had me feeling light as a faerie princess on my way back to the hotel. I'm sure the edible glitter helped, but mostly I'm ridiculous in love.

So I decided to go shopping. At lulu. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON! I cheerfully silenced my inner alarms promising only to buy from the sale rack. If it was something perfect. And I didn't already have it.

There were pants. New colors. Fun, interesting styles. One must be sure something that looks "interesting" actually fits. To the dressing room! First pants: "Geez, these are clingy. Is there a knot in the drawstring somewhere? Shouldn't try on yoga pants right after dinner." Turns to mirror: nope. Next pants. Mirror: nope. Peaks out of dressing room. "Could you see if you have these in a four?"

I don't have a problem with being a four instead of a two as far as my waist is concerned. In fact, I'm really glad my jeans aren't falling off anymore since I got back from ship life. But I'm 4'11." A size two can be hemmed. Size four, as I soon discovered, cannot. A hem doesn't do anything about the funkiness of extra knee room falling at your ankle. I bought a jacket.

Curse you consumerist culture for stealing my self esteem! You can have my dollars. Just leave the self esteem, please?

I feel the same about the wedding stuff. I would honestly be happy to shell out a ridiculous amount of money to throw a great party with my loved ones, but I don't like feeling like a dollar amount is a requirement. I don't want your "Wedding Inabox." I don't want to be stripped of my dignity to prove my love.

I want what I always said I wanted. Christmas lights, backyard, potluck. Gifts optional. Please bring a dish and your secret recipe for the happy couple.

Ah, such an idealist, yes?

Yes.

Moving day...

Hey guys,

I have moved to tumblr. Please find me here: apirateslifeforavalaroux.tumblr.com

Goodmorningafternoon!

Ugh, I hate when my sleep schedule gets off! Oh, but I love to sleep in ;)

Had a fantabulous time with our Christmas decorating competition last night, so much ridiculous hilarity happened. Still think a pantie tree would have won it for us. Maybe next year...

In other news, my white bean and kale soup didn't quite come out as planned. Hearty indeed, but not as tasty as I had hoped. I froze half of it for a rainy day.

Last night I also made a batch of butterscotch candies for the party. This is a great one for people who want delicious, not-to-fanciness (ideal for pirate-types).

Try it out:

For every bag of butterscotch chips, melt on low heat with one cup of peanut butter stirring occasionally. When it's creamy stir in 6 cups of cornflakes until well coated. Drop teaspoonfuls onto baking sheet with wax paper (best) if you have it. Chill in the fridge for at least one hour.

I'm off to find something to do with my day of rest. Adventures abound! I just have to get out of bed ;)

A little perusin' fer ye:

http://www.tide-mark.com/pirate_dict.html

Godspeed, me hearties!

Set sail for a sea of wonder...

Here I go again with my bloggingness. The theme is in honor of friend and fellow blogger Jacob and the fact that I will indeed be living and working on the high seas in the coming year! Currently, however, we're rehearsing in a wintry Canada, so indoor activities are important for passing time between calls. I have created this blog to share my piratical adventures with all of you! Tonight's foray? White bean and kale soup ;)

I'll let you know how it goes!!