...but everyone knows I love libraries.
I recently came across an article revisiting the purpose and usefulness of libraries engaging in virtual worlds like Second Life--an online role-playing community that is hugely popular.
While the author calls herself "a 30-something, forward-thinking librarian", she also admits she has reservations about promoting libraries in virtual reality to people who have probably "never set their Nikes in a brick-and-mortar library". How will a virtual library have any meaning, any significance to them?
For many of us, we love libraries because they make us nostalgic. We began our quest for knowledge by reading series like The Boxcar Children and Ramona Quimby and Ralph S. Mouse. The worlds we entered through books found in our libraries changed us, developed us. And that stays with us.
The most eloquent explanation of this nostalgia, a brilliant argument for maintaining physical library spaces came near the end of her article:
"There are many great libraries that are not just places full of old books and new computers--they are sanctuaries for imagination, intellectual and creative thought...The power of place cannot be underestimated."
Forrest, Lisa. (2007) "Overvaluing the Virtual: Second thoughts about Second Life." American Libraries. March 2008. p.11.
29 February 2008
Cultural Experience #5
Stephanie and I began our self-betterment exercises by attending cultural events a few years ago. I've mentioned this series of events before, (the last being the unfortunate ballet) but last night -- Thursday, February 28th -- we continued the series with a classical piano concert at Ball State, and added a very special person to our number.
Now, many of you may be turned off instantly when you hear the words "classical" and "piano" together with "concert". Do not judge too quickly.
The group we witnessed was actually introduced to me by my mother over the summer (kudos to Care Bear). She'd ripped out a short blurb on their new album that appeared in American Profile. I looked them up on YouTube, naturally, being a member of the Millennial Generation, and found some pretty phenomenal footage of the group The 5 Browns.
Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov
I have tried several times in the past twenty-four hours to gather my thoughts into words and then into sentences to explain the draw that classical piano music has on my soul. I have always loved piano music; it seems like it's been a part of my life since I can remember--Thursday afternoons at Mrs. Wickline's farmhouse, listening to my siblings play, wondering when it would be my turn.
Like any art done well, piano music can fore go words and speak directly to the deepest, even hidden parts of the soul. These amazingly talented siblings -- The 5 Browns -- have the gift of this technical, yet exhilarating language. I never knew fingers and hands could move so quickly and accurately over these black and white keys. I have never witnessed the spiritually uplifting, all-encompassing nature of the pieces that they played. My heart actually quickened and rested with each rise and fall in the music. In spirit, I danced the tarantella when the brothers (Gregory and Ryan) created that dance from notes on a page (which, incidentally, they'd memorized years prior). I could see the moonlit scenes painted before my eyes as the three sisters played at one piano the most breath-taking rendition of Debussy's Clair de Lune. Their arms were entangled it seemed, over and under, woven like a beautiful tapestry of notes, of music, pouring forth from this single Steinway. And their final piece, Firebird by Stravinsky (see below)...I couldn't breathe. I couldn't rip my eyes away from the view of the piano before us, the reflection of hands and flashing fingers in the shiny blackness of the instrument itself, the one at which someone played during every song, even the solos (well chosen seats, Kyle). I could count the number of times I blinked during that seemingly interminable song on one hand. So enrapturcated was I by their performance, though mostly by the music created, that it left me wide-eyed and speechless for minutes.
The best description I have come up with as I've contemplated all day how to explain the experience is this: They have brought LIFE to a genre of music that some of my contemporaries would believe is dead.
As they prefaced their songs with tales of the history, the composers, and sometimes the lyrics of the pieces, their individual personalities and their great senses of humor shined through. Gregory had the best outfit of the night -- red corduroy pants, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and black vest, with black retro Converse hi-tops. Outstanding.
I will let you judge for yourself with a few glimpses included here of a couple of our favorite performances from last night. Enjoy them. Be blown away. It is a gift, and that five should come from the same family, truly unbelievable.
Firebird by Stravinsky
Now, many of you may be turned off instantly when you hear the words "classical" and "piano" together with "concert". Do not judge too quickly.
The group we witnessed was actually introduced to me by my mother over the summer (kudos to Care Bear). She'd ripped out a short blurb on their new album that appeared in American Profile. I looked them up on YouTube, naturally, being a member of the Millennial Generation, and found some pretty phenomenal footage of the group The 5 Browns.
Flight of the Bumble Bee by Rimsky-Korsakov
I have tried several times in the past twenty-four hours to gather my thoughts into words and then into sentences to explain the draw that classical piano music has on my soul. I have always loved piano music; it seems like it's been a part of my life since I can remember--Thursday afternoons at Mrs. Wickline's farmhouse, listening to my siblings play, wondering when it would be my turn.
Like any art done well, piano music can fore go words and speak directly to the deepest, even hidden parts of the soul. These amazingly talented siblings -- The 5 Browns -- have the gift of this technical, yet exhilarating language. I never knew fingers and hands could move so quickly and accurately over these black and white keys. I have never witnessed the spiritually uplifting, all-encompassing nature of the pieces that they played. My heart actually quickened and rested with each rise and fall in the music. In spirit, I danced the tarantella when the brothers (Gregory and Ryan) created that dance from notes on a page (which, incidentally, they'd memorized years prior). I could see the moonlit scenes painted before my eyes as the three sisters played at one piano the most breath-taking rendition of Debussy's Clair de Lune. Their arms were entangled it seemed, over and under, woven like a beautiful tapestry of notes, of music, pouring forth from this single Steinway. And their final piece, Firebird by Stravinsky (see below)...I couldn't breathe. I couldn't rip my eyes away from the view of the piano before us, the reflection of hands and flashing fingers in the shiny blackness of the instrument itself, the one at which someone played during every song, even the solos (well chosen seats, Kyle). I could count the number of times I blinked during that seemingly interminable song on one hand. So enrapturcated was I by their performance, though mostly by the music created, that it left me wide-eyed and speechless for minutes.
The best description I have come up with as I've contemplated all day how to explain the experience is this: They have brought LIFE to a genre of music that some of my contemporaries would believe is dead.
As they prefaced their songs with tales of the history, the composers, and sometimes the lyrics of the pieces, their individual personalities and their great senses of humor shined through. Gregory had the best outfit of the night -- red corduroy pants, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and black vest, with black retro Converse hi-tops. Outstanding.
I will let you judge for yourself with a few glimpses included here of a couple of our favorite performances from last night. Enjoy them. Be blown away. It is a gift, and that five should come from the same family, truly unbelievable.
Firebird by Stravinsky
27 February 2008
It's true, I don't like Star Wars. I'm totally not a fan.
When I was in high school, my brother Evan somehow convinced me that we should watch the Star Wars marathon on TNT. I was so bored that I couldn't sit through them all, but I did get glimpses of each whenever I passed through the family room and his completely engrossed self on the couch.
Last year, I visited a group of professional singles in the area for a movie night. Though they didn't disclose it until I arrived, the movie of the evening was one of the original Star Wars. All that I remember about it was a giant, slimy, sloth-like, dictator being with an army of weird-looking, animal-esque strange creatures. And Princess Leia chained to the nasty leader. We all brought desserts, which was, in my opinion, the best part of the whole event, and I leaned against a person-sized teddy bear (which belonged to our host, a middle-aged male science professor) on the hard floor for the duration of the film. Uncomfortable, at best.
I have not witnessed any of the newer Star Wars episodes, those with Natalie Portman, Ewan McGregor, and Hayden Christensen, even though I enjoy all of those actors.
The above statements and obvious underlying feelings about the series do not mean that I can't appreciate when somebody else loves the movie. Such as this little girl.
When I was in high school, my brother Evan somehow convinced me that we should watch the Star Wars marathon on TNT. I was so bored that I couldn't sit through them all, but I did get glimpses of each whenever I passed through the family room and his completely engrossed self on the couch.
Last year, I visited a group of professional singles in the area for a movie night. Though they didn't disclose it until I arrived, the movie of the evening was one of the original Star Wars. All that I remember about it was a giant, slimy, sloth-like, dictator being with an army of weird-looking, animal-esque strange creatures. And Princess Leia chained to the nasty leader. We all brought desserts, which was, in my opinion, the best part of the whole event, and I leaned against a person-sized teddy bear (which belonged to our host, a middle-aged male science professor) on the hard floor for the duration of the film. Uncomfortable, at best.
I have not witnessed any of the newer Star Wars episodes, those with Natalie Portman, Ewan McGregor, and Hayden Christensen, even though I enjoy all of those actors.
The above statements and obvious underlying feelings about the series do not mean that I can't appreciate when somebody else loves the movie. Such as this little girl.
26 February 2008
Do you still have them? ... the eyes of children, filled with wonder
I want to continue to experience wonder in my life.
I never want to grow callous to the vast silence of the night sky--the breath-taking speed of a falling star, the clouds that pass over and around the nightlight of creation.
I realized today that when I walk through a store passing my fingers over the array of colors and textures, I do this so I can feel, so I can remain in touch with the beauty around me. I notice the intricate details; I soak up the myriad sounds and sights around me in order to stay connected.
I don't want to lose the wonder, the appreciation of differences, variety, creativity.
I want paintings and words to continue to move me to tears. I want stories and films to grab my heart and shake me into awareness. I want to always notice.
I want to be inspired.
I never want to grow callous to the vast silence of the night sky--the breath-taking speed of a falling star, the clouds that pass over and around the nightlight of creation.
I realized today that when I walk through a store passing my fingers over the array of colors and textures, I do this so I can feel, so I can remain in touch with the beauty around me. I notice the intricate details; I soak up the myriad sounds and sights around me in order to stay connected.
I don't want to lose the wonder, the appreciation of differences, variety, creativity.
I want paintings and words to continue to move me to tears. I want stories and films to grab my heart and shake me into awareness. I want to always notice.
I want to be inspired.
25 February 2008
Even more dangerous, yea deadly
Do not be led astray by their cute stares and soft, wide noses. No, no, my friends. These creatures really want to eat you. And they will try, they will work together from separate cages in order to distract you and then BAM! try to pounce on you.
This lot did get their prey. One is already passed out from his share. I would not mess with them if I were you.
This lot did get their prey. One is already passed out from his share. I would not mess with them if I were you.22 February 2008
As I was cooking...
Last night I made Mom's potato soup. This is, currently, my favorite soup, as my previous favorite (black bean) was ruined perhaps forever during a failed attempt by me to make it in January. Thus, potato has moved up from the #2 favorite slot, to #1.
It's probably about the easiest thing to make ever. So I can't really pretend to have accomplished anything fantastic with its successful making, unless of course you count the food turning out at all. Which I do since the dismal failure of soup #1 and the subsequent stench of soup that pervaded my home and very existence for at least a week following said attempt.
As I was grating a carrot to put it into the concoction, and I must admit I've never used my grater before, I ended up grating the knuckle of my middle finger. I injured myself doing the most basic cooking skill ever. This morning, it's all swollen and gross.
I'm such a klutz.
It's probably about the easiest thing to make ever. So I can't really pretend to have accomplished anything fantastic with its successful making, unless of course you count the food turning out at all. Which I do since the dismal failure of soup #1 and the subsequent stench of soup that pervaded my home and very existence for at least a week following said attempt.
As I was grating a carrot to put it into the concoction, and I must admit I've never used my grater before, I ended up grating the knuckle of my middle finger. I injured myself doing the most basic cooking skill ever. This morning, it's all swollen and gross.
I'm such a klutz.
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