FREE BOOKS!

Hi friends!

On October 15th, the local library will start accepting donations again. Until then, here are the titles from my library to which I'll be bidding farewell. Some of them I've read; others have been sitting collecting dust (and being packed and unpacked in various moves) since I acquired them.

If you'd like any of these, let me know, and we can work out how to get it/them to you. On October 15th, whatever is left will go to the library. (Yes, I know about PaperbackSwap. If you don't, you should.)

Seriously. Free books!

Watership Down (Richard Adams)

How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents (Julia Alvarez)

Speak (Laurie Halse Anderson)

Weetzie Bat (Francesca Lia Block)

Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury)

The Land that Time Forgot (Edgar Rice Burroughs)

My Antonia (Willa Cather)

The Professor's House (Willa Cather)

The Quilter's Kitchen (Jennifer Chiaverini)

A Pair of Silk Stockings and Other Stories (Kate Chopin)

Gigi and The Cat (Colette)

Seventeenth Summer (Maureen Daly)

The Origin of Species (Charles Darwin)

Nicholas Nickleby (Charles Dickens)

The Old Curiosity Shop (Charles Dickens)

The Pickwick Papers (Charles Dickens)

Sister Carrie (Theodore Dreiser)

Too Great a Lady (Amanda Elyot)

The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner)

Devil's Food Cake Murder (Joanne Fluke)

Where Angels Fear to Tread (E.M. Forster)

Five Sisters: The Langhornes of Virginia (James Fox)

Mary Called Magdalene (Margaret George)

Herland (Charlotte Perkins Gilman)

Lord of the Flies (William Golding)

On Reflection: An Autobiography (Helen Hayes)

The Old Man and the Sea (Ernest Hemingway)

Mules and Men (Zora Neale Hurston)

The Turn of the Screw and Other Short Novels (Henry James)

13 Little Blue Envelopes (Maureen Johnson)

Bluebird, or the Invention of Happiness (Sheila Kohler)

The Red Queen's Daughter (Jacqueline Kolosov)

You May Not Tie an Alligator to a Fire Hydrant (Jeff Koon & Andy Powell)

Hector and the Search for Happiness (Francois Lelord)

A Swiftly Tilting Planet (Madeleine L'Engle)

Mandie and the Secret Tunnel (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Mandie and the Trunk's Secret (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Mandie and the Hidden Treasure (Lois Gladys Leppard)

Perspectives on the Jack Tales and Other North American Märchen (Carl Lindahl, ed.)

Jack in Two Worlds: Contemporary North American Tales & Their Tellers (William Bernard McCarthy, ed.)

Morgan's Run (Colleen McCullough)

Sula (Toni Morrison)

The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)

Where the Red Fern Grows (Wilson Rawls)

The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)

Franny and Zooey (J.D. Salinger)

Nine Stories (J.D. Salinger)

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight (Jennifer E. Smith)

Stargirl (Jerry Spinelli)

Girl in Hyacinth Blue (Susan Vreeland)

Affinity (Sarah Waters)

Some of them may have scribbles in them from surviving various university classes, but they are all in good to good-as-new condition.

Happy reading!

~Micah

Like Letters

I have a penchant for writing long-winded letters, fraught with emotion, to guys I find attractive. If you've ever been the receiving party of such a letter, I apologize. (There aren't that many of you, and you're probably not reading this anyway, but just in case. . .) You probably didn't deserve it, and I shouldn't have inflicted it upon you, but I'm certain that I meant every word I wrote at the time that I wrote it. Still, that's no excuse for actually giving it to you. I probably should have kept it to myself.

Then, I had a breakthrough of sorts. I wrote a short note and spent a day agonizing over whether or not to give it to someone. In the end, I didn't, partly because I am a little shy sometimes, partly because my gut told me not to, and partly because I was terrified someone else would find it and read it and hello awkward!

The note didn't say anything incriminating. There was a comment on his looks (sort of) and a compliment on a recent project. It shouldn't have been embarrassing to give him the note or even to say those things to his face . . . if I only thought of him as a friend.

There's the trouble, though.

I like him. I probably shouldn't, but I do. A little, anyway. Enough to make me awkward.

If I didn't, I could tell him the things that I wrote in that note, but since I do, anything I say is going to sound like I'm flirting. Which would be okay, I suppose, if I knew he also liked me. But I don't. And anyway, he shouldn't. We're really all wrong for each other. Probably.

So I'm erring on the side of caution when it comes to "Like Letters" these days.

Probably.

Gracie Dances (and Talks to Strangers in Restaurants)

She was four years old and sitting with her family at a table near mine at the restaurant. Barefoot and dressed in a baby pink leotard and hot pink tutu, she tiptoed near my table and then back to her own. Three or four times, she did this dance, moving closer and closer while her parents called her back, telling her to leave me alone. I asked her if she was a ballerina, and suddenly, Gracie was regaling me with the minuscule details of her colorful life.

For nigh on ten minutes, we chatted. She climbed into the chair opposite me and while I ate my soup, told me about pre-pre-K, homework, dance class, her dislike of the color of her ballet slippers, and her excitement for an upcoming trip to Disney World. When I told her I met Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty and Belle when I was at Disney World but that Ariel was on vacation and so I didn't get to meet her, Gracie giggled and then firmly corrected me: Ariel was just upstairs changing.

Her mother suggested that Gracie color a page from her coloring book for me. On presenting the gift, she explained that she'd left the white parts that way on purpose. I promised to hang it on my refrigerator. She told me I'd have to put a magnet on it first. I assured her I would.

As she and her family prepared to depart for dance class, Gracie invited me to visit her anytime, told me her address (oops!) and asked when I would be there. Her mother smiled indulgently and said of course I was welcome anytime. Gracie told me to leave a note in the mailbox by their driveway to say when I would visit.

Gracie transformed my lonely meal into an exuberant conversation merely by being herself. She shares her smiles and her laughter with strangers at restaurants because why wouldn't we want to laugh with her?

Can this child-like confidence be contagious? Please!

Why I'm Afraid to Let You Read What I'm Writing

Too much of how I feel about myself is all tied up in how you feel about me. Good or bad, important or not, I value your opinion. Even if I don’t know you, I’ll take your response personally. Even if you just evaluate the grammar, I’ll internalize it and somehow manipulate your comments into a personal attack. They’re not meant that way. My brain knows that on the most basic level, but the emotional side of my brain doesn’t believe the rational side of my brain so I will struggle to keep the writing separate from who I am.

Except that, in a way, the writing is who I am. We are one and the same. It’s my thoughts and my opinions and my imagination run amok and my contribution to the world, however insignificant in the long run. It’s what will remain when I’m gone. So if you don’t appreciate it, if you don’t like it, if you don’t respond to it, what was the point of it? Why did I bother? If what I created isn’t worth your notice, does that mean I’m not worth it, either?

Again, I know that’s not true. I know my worth extends far beyond some words on a page. My contribution to the world is so much more than a physical remnant. My most valuable impression will not be measured by its physical presence. It will be the cheer that someone feels when they remember our interaction or the smile that creeps across their face when something reminds them of me.

So I guess what I’m saying is that how you feel about my writing will affect how I feel about myself, but I hope what you remember most about me is not my writing but me. Just me. My smile and my heart and the love and laughter I shared with you. I hope my writing doesn’t get in the way of that, and if all you have of me is my writing, I suppose my writing had better be full of love and laughter.

Recently, I've Been Writing...

Okay, I've been writing more than just recently. Since elementary school probably. When I was a kid, adults showered praise on my writing, impressed with my command of grammar and vocabulary, imagery and symbolism. (Yikes, that sounds conceited, doesn't it?) It made me uncomfortable, being singled out.

So I stopped sharing things and started keeping them to myself. Eventually, I lost that youthful ability to give over my thoughts to people to read and instead hoarded them, terrified to let anyone else see or hear what was happening in my head.

In college, of course, as an English major, I had to share my thoughts, had to write them down and let professors and peer-readers evaluate them. I was successful (mostly), and my confidence grew. Reading over some of those papers now, I wonder who that writer is. Surely, I didn't write those papers. I did, though, so where is she, the person who thought those things and phrased them the way she did. Not that anything I wrote was particularly commendable or memorable, but the thoughts were interesting and the writings engaging.

So what happened?

Well, whatever happened, I'm back to writing and figure I might as well put the words out there for reading. Some of it will be fiction, some introspective, some just for laughs. I'll leave it to you to decide what's what.

I hope you'll share your thoughts in the comments. I hope you'll tell me the truth, even if it might hurt. I hope you'll help me grow, and I hope you won't give up on me the way I had nearly given up on myself.

And thanks, in advance. I'm glad you're here.

You're So Keen: Eight Years of Vintage Jazz, Sassy Ladies & Dapper Gents

Eight years ago, when we were freshmen living on the third floor of Hume Honors West, my friend Marianna got an email from a student organization at the University of Florida. She told me she wasn't really interested in what they were offering but thought I might enjoy it: swing dancing. Faintly terrified, I ventured to the Reitz Union Colonnade and met some of the best friends of my college years.

One of my first nights of swing dancing.
Pedro, Ashley, Bob, Allyn, Kim, Michael, Mike, Jeaux & Co.

The 1920s at Stompin' at the Swamp 2008: Leaping Through Time
Jim F., Kristine, Jim M., Micah, Mika, Patrick, Rainey, Andrew, Bonnie & Rett

Before I begin in earnest, though, notable people missing from this post (except maybe in those big group shots above) include: Bob, Ashley, Andrea, Pedro, Jeaux, Craig, Jenny, Miranda, Stewart, Suzy, Ilana, Greg, Paula, Shelby, Paul, Jim S., Jim F., Tim N., Sheila, Kurtis, Matt K., Grace, Kyle, DJ Natch and a fair few more. It doesn't mean I don't love you so here's your shout-out, right at the beginning.

In celebration of eight years of kicking up my heels, here are eight of my favorite swing dancing memories, in no particular order and acknowledging that my swing dance experience goes so far beyond these eight events/people/dances that I could not express the entirety of it to you.

(Be sure to check the photo captions for extras!)

This Guy

The last time I saw Michael...

Eight years ago today, I met Michael at my first Florida Swing Dancing Club lesson at the University of Florida. He was wearing black dress pants, a pale pink polo shirt, and shiny black dress shoes (even though we were dancing on concrete). In that first dance lesson, we became friends and for long afterward still remembered the combination we learned. (I don't know if he's since forgotten it, but part of it still lives in the back of my brain.) For two years, we danced together, referring to our partnership alternately as a "dance marriage" and a "darriage" until we were "dance-vorced" out of necessity when he left town. We learned together, taught together, laughed a lot, had serious conversations about non-dance things, and continue as friends despite having last seen each other in person on February 14, 2007. Just can't quite turn that page . . .

This Gal

At DCLX 2011

It was Pittsburgh in the winter of 2009 when I met Julia at PittStop Lindy Hop. We were staying at the same house and would become fast friends in the matter of three days. We now have visited each other in our own towns, reunited in Florida and at two subsequent events in Pittsburgh. Our shared faith in Christ and enjoyment of swing dancing, reading, and classic Hollywood musicals have joined us inextricably. (Once, we even gave one another near-identical little books of advice from Jane Austen for Christmas. There was much laughter.) A number of times, we have also been mistaken as related, once rather bizarrely with our friend Jonathan at a church in Pittsburgh.

The Clothes/Costumes (and Shoes)

Being part of the swing dance community, particularly in college, gave me an excuse to indulge my secret enjoyment of costumes. I have far too many pictures to share here without making this post interminable, but here are a few of my favorites:

Halloween 2008 - winning the Jack & Jill with Ross

2007 Taxi Dance with Jake

Halloween 2007 with Weston

There were also fabulous clothes that leaned less toward costume. Here are some of those:

Kristine and her grandmother made these dresses from a vintage Vogue pattern.
South Florida Lindy Exchange 2008
(That fellow in the background is Matt, another dear friend.)

Wearing my favorite pants ever and dancing with Tim, one of my favorite guys ever.
Orlando Lindy Exchange 2010

Zendah Grotto
Being goofy, as usual, with Julie
Tampa, June 2010

These Lovely Ladies (and Gentleman)

Spring 2008 with (L to R) Betsy, Bonnie, Chris & Kristine

Dubbed the midget brigade (probably a moniker we gave ourselves), Betsy, Bonnie, Kristine and I ruled the Florida Swing Dancing club for a few years. Okay, there wasn't much ruling, though we all did serve as officers or instructors or both at one time or another. Chris, deceptively tall here because of his roller blades, was (is, I'm sure - or would be if we were all still together) one of our favorite dance partners and a dear friend. These folks brought so much joy into my life and, as you can see from the picture, laughter. Oh, and there were all of those impromptu, vaguely burlesque dance numbers to "Big Spender."

Our impending separation upped our affection.
L to R: Kristine, Micah, Bonnie, Betsy & Erin
(Erin is one of the best bakers I will ever know.)

This Dance

(Thanks for that, Jim. It was awesome. For those of you wondering, the tune is Keb' Mo's "Henry.")

Lindy Exchanges

My first lindy exchange: Soflex 2007
with Tracy, Alex, Elaine, Mika, and Tara

lindy exchange (n.) A pile of my best dance friends from all over, gathered in one place for the express purpose of dancing the night away.

with Glenn at PittStop 2009, an unexpected reunion

Quiet moments in between dances
with Mikel at Soflex 2008

A shimmy-off with Hurley at DCLX 2011

Silly dance breaks: What's on the ceiling?
with Hurley at Soflex 2010

A moment captured during a steal dance.
There's something about the angles of our arms that I find fantastic in this shot.
with Patrick W. at Soflex 2010

Solo goofiness with Julie & Alex at DCLX 2011

This picture of me dancing Charleston at DCLX 2011

An afternoon with Kate & Julia, seeing Jane Eyre, and eating incredible cupcakes from Crumbs
post-DCLX 2011

Florida Dance Weekend Birthdays

For four years, I spent my birthday weekend having a grand time in Orlando (and other Florida locales) with some of my best friends, including my superb 25th at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter (with the lovely Lisa) and Disney's Animal Kingdom (with the handsome Hurley). This year, I'll be missing the Orlando Lindy Exchange (a.k.a. my built-in birthday party), and while I'm sure watching David Tennant as Hamlet while eating cheese and chocolate fondue will be indescribably marvelous, it won't be the same without you. Anyway, thanks to the many people responsible for making birthdays 23-26 absolutely fantastic! All my love to all of you!

Reuniting with long-unseen friends.
with Patrick F. at ORLX 2012

Happy 25th on the beach in St. Pete with Brendan, who is wearing my sunglasses

This shot would be even better if I were wearing my ORLX 4 shirt, too!
with Hurley at ORLX 2011

When I met Blake at a previous ORLX, he claimed someone had told him he just had to dance with me.
He later admitted he'd just seen me dance and thought I was awesome. The feeling is mutual.
ORLX 2012

Hugs are one of the best things about friends.
Sometimes, a dance is just an excuse to hug for 3 1/2 minutes.
with Tim at ORLX 2010

Love

It's corny, yes, but you should all be used to that from me by now, and it's true anyway so keep reading.  I am ever so grateful for and overwhelmed by the number of incredible people I've met in the eight years I've been swing dancing. You have opened your hearts and homes and arms to me, and I love you for it. So here's to you, you awesome folks. A hat-tip to you, a hug when next we meet and until then . . .

Love always, Micah

Be Who You Are and Be That Well

Mount de Chantal Visitation Academy's motto, words burned into alumnae memories perhaps better than anything we learned in class, comes from a quote by St. Francis de Sales:

Be who you are and be that well that you may bring honor to the Master Craftsman whose handiwork you are.

For my senior Herndon Speech Contest, an annual event held in honor of Mount de Chantal graduate Judith Herndon, our motto was the theme. While unpacking boxes today, I found my speech. It begins with a monologue adapted from the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. (Incidentally, I later played Lucy Van Pelt in a Towngate Theatre production of that musical, but for this contest, I stuck with Sally Brown.)

The only thing wrong with my big brother, Charlie Brown, is his stupidity, his clumsiness, his inferiority, and his lack of confidence. But Lucy had the guts to tell him like it is. And he said, "I'm not very handsome or clever or lucid. I've always been stupid at spelling and numbers. Oh how could there possibly be one small person as thoroughly, totally, utterly blah as me." And then she told him that there was still reason for hope because he's no one else but the singular, remarkable, unique Charlie Brown. As Lucy put it, "For whatever it's worth, Charlie Brown, you're you." So I guess all those things that I said were wrong with him are really what makes him Charlie Brown.

Like the characters in Charles Schulz's Charlie Brown cartoon, we must discover who we are and then how to be who we are without fear of what everyone else might say. In the six years I've spent at the Mount, my class dynamic has changed as we've lost and gained students and as we, ourselves, have grown. Still, in each of us can be found a little bit (or a lot) of those comic characters.

Although we might deny it at times, we can all be bossy like Lucy or stubborn like Sally. As Schroeder loves his music, every one of us has our passions, and while we may not literally have a blanket to cling to like Linus, we probably depend on some person or object to bring us comfort. And at least in my class, our inner Snoopiness shows itself usually more than once a day--that joking way of being to make someone or everyone smile. Finally, we are all Charlie Brown. We're trying our best to form our personality while overcoming all of the faults we perceive in ourselves. Meanwhile, we must be careful not to criticize the personalities of others because they're only doing exactly what we are in the search for self.

So, even if someone might be a little more Lucyish than we would like and take charge when we might want authority, we must remember that we, too, have our moments of Lucyness. Or perhaps, a classmate's passion for whatever topic she chooses does not particularly interest us, or it bores us mad. Either way, maybe we should recall that not everyone shares our enjoyment of our chosen hobbies. Snoopy, for instance, wildly loves suppertime, an idea Charlie Brown simply cannot comprehend, but he tolerates his dog's unusual antics because Snoopy just would not be Snoopy if he didn't celebrate his meal so much.

We all might benefit from listening a little more to the words of these characters who have such a firm grasp on what it means to "Be who you are and be that well" because they have learned to find joy in appreciating and loving one another for who they are and what they will become. They know that being who you are isn't about what other people think of you. It's about what you think of yourself and making yourself happy. After all, "Happiness is anyone and anything at all that's loved by you." Including yourself.

Flawed though it may be, this speech reminds me of the importance of accepting people for who they are, no matter how different who they are is from who I am. It also takes me back to a place that held so many happy memories. It puts me right back on that Music Hall stage at Mount de Chantal before a room of my teachers and friends, sharing the podium with half a dozen of my peers and listening as they shared their thoughts on our motto. I remember those traditions that are ours, moments that we hold dear, treasures that cannot be taken even though our building no longer stands on that hill majestic.

I am grateful for six years of being told day in and day out to be who I am and be that well because now, eight years after leaving those hallowed halls, those words still echo in my mind. They are printed on my conscience, reminding me that who I am is valuable, worthwhile, significant. Those words will always be there because the faculty, staff, and sisters of Mount de Chantal Visitation Academy refused to let me forget them.