Going Down in History

When they write about me in history books, what will they say? I was reading about a French political philosopher and author in one of my textbooks last night, and, in the margin of my notebook, found myself writing:

Sarah Koopmans (1981 - ?)

Canadian religious and social philosopher and author

Can’t you just see it? A couple hundred years from now, if I make enough waves during my lifetime, and my existence is significant enough to mention in some kind of history book, I imagine that’s not far from how it might appear.

Like me, when you think “philosopher”, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato come to mind; perhaps I am not easily compared to the ancient toga-wearers, but when I read this description of philosophy, there is much that I identify with:

Philosophy is defined as: The study of general and fundamental problems concerning matters such as existence, knowledge, values, reason, mind, and language; the pursuit of wisdom, a search for a general understanding of values and reality by chiefly speculative rather than observational means, an analysis of the grounds of and concepts expressing fundamental beliefs.

A philosopher is, then, someone who seeks wisdom and enlightenment; a person who seeks reason and truth by thinking and meditation.

This thing that I do, this blog, is my journal of observations as I study humanity. Someday, hopefully, I’ll graduate to a more formal outlet for my ideas and findings, but lucky you to have known me when–!

How Freakin’ Fabulous Am I? (rhetorical question)

There are a few things I’d like to say:

1. I suck for having procrastinated from writing for ever so long. You may not care, but I know the truth: I officially suck for not taking the time to record all of the freakin’ fabulous thoughts I’ve had over the last several months. Some of the blame can be laid on the following inconsequential pastimes: work, two bands plus other music projects, and being there for my family.

2. While I initially anticipated the arrival of winter with fear and trepidation, now that it has been asserting its climatic domination of my area for weeks, I’ve mostly gotten used to it. I had some noteworthy help from a few contributors: the Fionas (my amazing knee-high, sexy black leather boots), elbow-length black leather gloves, snow tires, and CAA, with an honourable mention to hemp hearts and espresso.

3. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, I have a new bible that has very little to do with spirituality but everything to do with great taste. As happens with many great things, I stumbled upon this book in a local store that I hadn’t set foot in for a long while, and I can’t get enough of it. My new bible is written by What Not To Wear’s Clinton Kelly, and it’s called: Freakin’ Fabulous: How to Dress, Speak, Behave, Eat, Drink, Entertain, Decorate, and Generally be Better Than Everyone Else.

Clinton’s approach is very humourous, but truly, truly fabulous. These pages are chock-full of common-sensical advice, from how to match patterns to how-to recipes for great appetizers to good manners. I love it, and possibly not platonically! I’ve been accused of being too proper, caring too much about grammar, and being picky about lighting, and now I find myself vindicated by Mr. Kelly. Alleluia!

I simply can’t leave it at that, I’m sorry. This book will likely stay on my coffee table for decades to come, and all of you who care will be able to leaf through it and glean its wisdom for yourself. Honestly, where else can you find all of this basic good advice in one very fun, well-published, entertaining format?

This is the book that I’ve been waiting to discover for all of my adult life. Or, at least since I discovered how fabulous one can be and my true potential for achieving it.

A great paragraph:

When throwing a party, you must sanitize and guest-proof your bathroom. If the bathroom that will be used by your guests is not absolutely spotless, you will quickly get a reputation as a dirty birdy. And then, nobody will eat the food you’ve made because they’re afraid of catching hepatitis.

Just sayin’: great writing, right?

Here’s another tidbit:

If chopping onions makes you cry, hold a few unlit matches in your mouth. The sulfur is supposed to absorb some of the onion fumes. You can also hold a slice of white bread in your mouth. Either way, you’ll look like an idiot. Also, try throwing the onion in the freezer for a bit before you chop it. The colder the onion, the less fumes. Personally, I don’t mind a good cry. In fact, if I cry while chopping the onions, I’ll run to the bathroom mirror and recite one of my favorite lines from Poltergeist: “Don’t you touch my babies!!!” It’s the part where the kids are being sucked into the bedroom closet for the second time and JoBeth Wiliams is at HER WIT’S END! It’s very dramatic. (Hi, JoBeth, if you’re reading this!!!)

I mean, come on! Mixing great advice with self-deprecating humour and pop-culture references? What could be better in a self-help book?

4. I have to go now. I have some more reading to do before I’ll be ready to host any freakin’ fabulous Christmas parties. Ta Ta.

A Day in My Life, June 2008

I had a sudden desire today to chronicle and compare the different stages of my life, as I look back and notice that my life in June 2008 is remarkable different from that of June 2007, June 2006, June 2005, and so on.

I invite you to be a witness on this journey.

June 2008 finds me 27 years old, living in a two-bedroom second-floor apartment in the only apartment building in a tiny town in East Huron County called Brucefield. This town is known for it’s flashing light, yellow if you’re driving between Clinton and Exeter on Highway 4, or red if you’re coming from either Seaforth or Bayfield. There is one elementary school, one church, one drive-in restaurant, two mechanic shops, one Asian/Home Decor/B&B/Lunch Room location, and one fire station.

My apartment overlooks a cornfield, the view of which is mostly obstructed by a lovely birch tree. Said tree helps me feel more confident walking around in my apartment in less-than-decent clothing on summer nights. After all, who would be driving by slowly enough whose gaze could penetrate the birch branches in the split second I happen to be passing through my dining room, several feet from my beautiful picture window?

I enjoy living alone, though sometimes I do wish someone was there to care whether I came in or not, or to wonder where I was, or to motivate me to do dishes, finally! My neighbours are understanding and quiet, the area is safe, and I actually have a place to call home. MY home. I’ve immensely enjoyed painting and decorating my apartment, putting all of my good taste to good use in a place where I’m the boss, now and forever.

Another addition to my life is that of Trixie the Toyota, a pretty, dark-green 1997 4Runner who goes with me everywhere I go. She hauls the accoutrements of my life and hobbies without complaint. She has survived being rolled over in the ditch after skidding out on an icy country road, being hit-and-run by some unknown person, a not-so-successful attempt at backing up a trailer, and carrying some of my more treasured furniture.

Not so enjoyable are the bills that go with being established and mobile, namely cell phone, rent, insurance, hydro, phone/internet, groceries, gas, repairs, etc. I can’t say as I ever yearned for that part of nesting, but I take it in stride, usually. I’ll be much happier when I can finally get my tax returns done (for the past 2 years), pay off my credit card, and have money set aside for winter tires.

I have spent more than a year at the same job, as a server at The Brew’n Arms English pub and restaurant in Bayfield, Ontario. Earlier this year, I graduated to keyholder and Dining Room Manager, as well as Kitchen Painter and Orchid-Caretaker extraordinaire. My bosses are wonderful people who have become friends and family, as well as the most understanding and flexible supervisors anyone could ask for. They make me want to stay and do my best for them, for their business, for their town.

Last year at this time, I was also working as a drywaller, and, shocker! I don’t miss it a tiny bit. I do enjoy my refined house-painting skills, which I have recently put to good use in a “cottage” in Bayfield, and hope to expand as a second job. If you hear of someone looking to hire a house painter, give them my number!

I’m not attending church because I couldn’t handle the one I had called “home” for years. I’m generally fed up with the institution that is what church has become, with all its expectations and traditions and legalism. I would enjoy a faith-based community of believers that is honest and open, a group that can laugh and be reverent in an informal way. I really could expand this paragraph to a whole essay, but suffice it to say that I have not encountered such a community, but I still seek to hold onto my beliefs. I am discovering more of what life is like on “the other side” (outside the Christian bubble), and it’s very educational, despite occasionally dangerous.

If it were possible to live on coffee, I’d do it.

I’ve joined the wonderful realm of BlackBerry, as I once dreamed of doing. And I’m paying for it, too.

Writing is still my best communication method.

I rarely see earlier than 10 AM, or close my eyes earlier than 1 or 2 AM. I’d like to change that.

The music in my life has developed over the past year as well. I am the youngest voice of the all-female cover band, Cactus Jam, and I love it, despite playing mostly Legions. I was also privileged enough to be part of Noted!, a project sponsored by the United Way in my county, which is helping to boost the music careers of the 17 women chosen to participate. We got to record 14 tracks in a professional studio, and a great-sounding CD is the result. This past winter I also ventured out to sing a few times at Open Mic nights at a local pub, and have been the featured soloist at two church events.

This year finds me recently motherless, a drastic blight on anyone’s life, and definitely on mine. It has changed so many things and finally propelled me into nesting in the first place. It also made my brother and I guardians of our youngest brother and launched me further into the land of disabled children in Ontario. I now have a lawyer, communicate regularly with several case workers, get all kinds of official mail, and have to return junk mail still addressed to Mom.

June 2008 also finds me blonde, and with an even greater fashion sense. I love that about growing older! I predict I’ll still be stylish in my 80s. If I’m not, remind me of now.

I’ve discovered I love flowers and plants, doing the Toronto Saturday Star crossword, Pinot Grigio and Shiraz, premium beer, CBC Radio, brie on melba rounds with semi-dried tomatoes in duck confit, Dollarama’s plain candles, serving dessert, mom’s old couch and armchair (with my apartment’s decor built around them), C&E used furniture in Goderich, Americanos from The Bean, and living in Huron County!!! (Sorry, but that deserved more than three exclamation points)
Being Sarah Elizabeth takes different shapes all the time, and I’m enjoying the process. Here’s to another year!

A Long and Meaningful Conversation Gone Public

the flies are lethargic but i had a wonderful day

Today was an unexpectedly wonderful solitary restful holiday day. Who could have imagined, after getting (or taking) only a handful of chances to hit the beach all summer, that I would be able to enjoy its inspirational warmth and beauty on the day after Thanksgiving?!

I got up late (again) and rushed to my massage appointment. I feel like I wrote that as if massage appointments are part of my regular life, but they’re not. Except now they might become part of it because it seems as if my new massage therapist will be able to treat the ache in my right arm which is a result of mudding and sanding all summer.

About forty-five minutes later, I left, feeling not as if I could fall asleep, as some do after massages, but rather positive and invigorated. I left the spa with all afternoon and evening ahead of me, and decided to take advantage of it by exploring the small town I’ve been working in all summer and now into fall, a town a mere twenty minutes south of my own but which I barely know and still get lost in.

I nosed around a few shops, and then followed the sign with a painted hand pointing down a side street, along with the words, The Village Bookshop. I can’t resist a good bookshop, though I rarely buy books from said bookshops because I find the price tags outrageous. I made the rounds of the small shop, enjoying its selection, and had made my way to the display right beside the exit when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw “Anne Lamott”.

Her name has popped up several times over the last year or so, through friends and such, but I had never taken the time to pick up one of her books. As soon as I opened the glossy-covered tome, titled Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, and glimpsed the gritty and refreshing tone of her writing, I knew I had to buy it. And, as if to walk in the opposite spirit, I bought a gift for my sister, whom I’m currently annoyed with.

Having worked in a restaurant in “the village” all summer and having only heard about the other eateries in town, I decided to expand my exploration to include The Martha Ritz. There, I sat by a window at a tall table and worked a crossword while sipping a vodka and cranberry with lime juice, and eating a pulled pork sandwich and a caesar salad.

Hunger quenched, I strolled across the street to wander through a few more shops, eventually aiming for a coffee shop, where I sat and opened my new book. I could tell right away that it was something I’d be devouring, and I would have sat in the chair at the round table by the sidewalk all day if it hadn’t been for the scorching sun pounding down on my shoulders. So I decided to go to the beach.

Armed with bikini, sarong, water bottle, sunglasses, and the book, I continued my lovely day. Yes, indeed, I got in the water, which was nice and refreshing. I didn’t stay too long, though, eager as I was to dig further into faith according to Anne Lamott.

A quote I wrote in my notebook while sitting on my bright green sarong on the sand:

“I can’t imagine anything but music that could have brought about this alchemy. Maybe it’s because music is about as physical as it gets: your essential rhythm is your heartbeat; your essential sound, the breath. We’re walking temples of noise, and when you add tender hearts to this mix, it somehow lets us meet in places we wouldn’t get to any other way.”

I stayed at the beach till I was hungry and needing a bathroom. Still in my beach clothes, I made quesadillas with fresh tomatoes, onions, and avocadoes, and ate at the picnic table in the yard. Then I rushed back to the beach, hoping to see the sunset. I got there just before the last sliver of that rosy orb disappeared, but sat reading and enjoying the beautiful red sky till it was almost too dark to tell what I was walking on as I made my way back to the car. Before I left, I stood with my feet in the water, gazing out over the huge lake and taking deep breaths of the fresh, slightly fishy air. As I watched a flock of Canada geese disappear in the distance, I smiled and remembered that everything is not about keeping busy.

With Christ, Against the Grain

47 Beavers on the Big, Blue Sea

And the beavers pulled upon the oars
And the beavers rowed away from shore
And the beavers two, and the beavers three,
Forty-seven beavers on the big, blue sea!

No one thought that beavers were capable of scheming.
If you’d say, “They’ll row away,” most folks would say you’re dreaming.
But here they were and there they went across the briny blue,
Calling out a cadence like a real Olypmpic crew.

For a week or two the beaver crew rowed the Great Pacific,
Till from the north a storm blew in with winds that were terrrific!
And one by one, their oars blew off and vanished! Mercy me!
And forty-seven beavers were left bobbin’ in the sea!

Phil Vischer, the mastermind behind the ever-entertaining Veggie Tales, has gone out on a new limb: Jellyfish. Jellyfish is Phil’s new creative company, through which he hopes to pursue new ministry opportunies. If 47 Beavers on the Big, Blue Sea is any indication of the stuff that JellyfishPress is going to be producing, his books will be a smash hit just like his videos!

I never set out to do product reviews on this here blog site, but I couldn’t help myself after reading this children’s book this morning in the bookstore I work at (we’ve got it on sale!), reading and laughing. The illustrations, by Jared Chapman, are, of course, hilarious, too! This is the kind of book that you won’t mind reading to your kids over and over and over… like, ten times in 30 minutes! At least, I won’t!

My neices are getting one.

Taking the Time

Though I didn’t haul my rear out of bed ’til 10:00-ish this morning, I FINALLY took some time to focus on the book study I’m doing with some friends (we were meeting tonight, after all). I transferred the mound-of-clean-and-dirty-clothes from my comfy chair to my bed so I could utilize it, made myself a massive cup of earl grey tea, and settled down to read chapter 2, the Second Cup, of Fresh-Brewed Life by Nicole Johnson.

The Second Cup was titled Encounter Your Journal… I’m normally pretty good at writing about the important events of my life in my journal, but I write sporadically at best. And, lately, everything is sporadic and nothing is regular. Oh wait! I’ve been pretty darn dedicated to this blog for a while and I definitely don’t let a day pass without checking Facebook and Myspace!! I should also mention that I acquired the sequel to Eragon (Eldest), and I’m whipping my way through it (when a story is good, it’s good!).

I’ve felt keenly lethargic about many things in life lately, but after reading the chapter, I actually had several moments of inspiration! I picked up my journal and had a great entry, one where I could distinctly see the contrast between the lies my soul’s enemy has been telling me, and when God took over and started inspiring creative thought.

And the rest of my day was affected….

Now if only I can maintain the discipline!

Fantasy, Electro-Pop, and Coziness

1. Eragon. The book, not the movie. The movie was kinda lame (although the Arya the elf was beautiful and Eragon was hot!), but the book is a freaking page-turner! I can’t hardly put it down!! I’ve zipped through it in a week and I’m sad I only have 30 pages left. Christopher Paolini is Brilliant!! I can’t wait ’til there’s an affordable copy of Eldest out there.

2. Imogen Heap. This sassy songstress is able to entwine witty lyrics with catchy and haunting melodies in her electronic way. She uses a keyboard and voice distorters and her Mac laptop to create amazing harmonic sounds. She’s one of my newest obsessions. Check her out if you haven’t yet.

3. My Red Down Throw. I don’t think I’ve listed it yet under my 3BTs… it’s a lovely shade of brick red which goes amazingly with cornflower blue sheets (I’ve had two sets in the past and I’ve given them away). It could be a bit longer (I’m a tall girl), but it’s been with me for over three years now, and it’s beautiful. It’s warm, it’s cozy, it’s pretty, it rolls up small for travelling, it looks puffy and you want to squish its air pockets, it washes and dries in the machines. I love it.

The Staples

1. Painkillers. Don’t worry, I’m just small-time. One day a month, really. But on that certain day, I’m grateful!

2. Water. To counteract the gallons of coffee I consume, to flush the toxins out of my body, to keep my lips from chapping all to pieces, for being the most healthy thing in the world!

3. Fiction. Story. I would be lost without it… a piece of me missing, seriously!!