I love stories. A lot. There are many reasons and many manifestations.
First off, I've noticed my whole life that I have a deep love for music, reading, dance, theatre, movies, sculptures.. all the arts. There are probably many reasons, but one conclusion I drew was very interesting and fits nicely into this little piece: I love the story. And these are all different ways of telling a story. Music has a beautiful way of telling a story and expressing the emotions. There is such a beauty and depth when the melodies and harmonies are added to the lyrics of Les Misérables . And then the music swells for emphasis as the human voice personifies the message and adds a testimony, experience to the words. Literature has the ability to look into the minds and hearts of the characters, to explain the reasons people behave the way they do. I've often found connections between myself and characters that are deeper and much easier to see than those between myself and normal people. DANCE. All forms, but there is nothing in this world more beautiful to me than ballet. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen or performed in The Nutcracker. And when Christmastime comes, there's still nothing I'd rather do. Theatre. Now, to some, its sappiness and annoyingly high dose of melodrama is overwhelming and hard to get past. But when I do get past it, what an incredible thing to be able to witness. An actor takes a character and shows you how he saw the character in his mind. Movies. Again, I love seeing how the actor brings alive his character. And then there's the filming and lighting, the make-up and costuming, the music; the overall cinematography is something I can't help but notice. And sculptures—capturing a whole story, a whole range of emotions in a single moment. I am not at all an expert in art (or any of the past things) and I'm sure am generic and inexperienced in choosing the Pieta as my example of a beautiful sculpture. As Mary holds the limp body of the Savior, her face and her body show every emotion she feels in the instant and all that was felt previously.
I daydream. All the time. Not because I hate my life and daydream of how it'd be better. It's about my future life—I’ll think of the orphans I'll meet aand help when I finally do get to go to an orphanage, of the beautiful secluded, canopied, dappled backyard my husband and I are going to have. I love my life. A lot. BUT at times, it doesn't quite seem like a story, and I think those are the reasons I daydream about my present life. There once was a girl who woke up and went to work. and then school. after that she stayed on campus. Every day, she does her homework, comes home, and goes to bed. next day, repeat. next day, repeat. Not a very exciting story.
It would seem. But I know better. (Although I still can't hold back my imagination during the 35 minute walk to work.)
There were many times in high school, and still now, when, although invited to a party or asked to hang out, I'd rather stay home and read or watch a movie. People would say I was lazy or wasting time watching a movie. But oh no. I'm being quite stimulated.
I still remember those friends. The ones who would call and set my mind on ultra speed as I fought to find some half- truth excuse. But somehow they'd always find out I'd spent the night with a blanket and movie. Perhaps they knew me better than I thought.
The best music videos, songs, or dances, as my friend Melissa, and any other person, will tell you, are those that tell a story. Music Video—“If I Were a Boy" by Beyonce. Song—“Helena” by Nickel Creek, "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy. Dance—any ballet, "Bleeding Love" by Chelsie and Mark of So You Think You Can Dance.
Lastly, story time. It's the greatest. One time I was with a group of friends. As it was getting late and the room was getting dimmer and dimmer, we started story time. Everyone told a dream or funny story or memory. I loved it! How fun!
My friend Cait and I love to make up stories for each other. Stories that usually end up with an attractive, Banana Republic wearing, internationally and economically-minded, business majoring, trilingual husband. They contain their fair share of adventure as well.
And if you think about it, stories lead to inside jokes, which are, honestly, the stepping stones and markers of a friendship.
Well, my friends, this was my thought on a Thursday night as I shoved my homework aside and made a terrible batch of brownies.