Sound Reflects...

Twenty-two years ago a plan was set in motion. It was one of those things early teens do--the parent fake-out. Crystal told her Mom she was staying at my house, I told my parents I was staying at hers while they went off to celebrate their anniversary.



In that evening of young rebellion, and innocence, nestled the experience of my first concert. Local bands took over one building at the Logan Fair Parks. The youth of the community crammed into the building to release a bit of teen angst. Pressed near the south wall, next to the boy I was dating at the time, I was mesmerized by the sound of local musicians who formed the band Water*Front. The notes, riffs, beats, and lyrics resonated further than one would ever expect.

Last night, I stood watching three of the original members perform at Urban Lounge under a new name--Seven Daggers--while standing and laughing with a friend who just happened to be Water*Front's lass bass player. Watching and hearing the sounds took me back to those early days of my teen life--and I realized something: The men in this band played a significant role in who I've become.

Though I don't see them everyday; though I never became a grand concert promoter or critic of music--at the age of thirty-five I'm still dancing to their music.

Had the plan not been set to sneak out of the house, I would never have begun writing letters to them when I moved to a rural town in Utah. Had they not written back each and every time, I may never have started promoting concerts at Vernal's National Guard Armory (a huge thank you to Skeeter for understanding the youth of the community needed a place to go and providing the venue). Had they not traveled to perform, I wouldn't have set in motion creating my own business plan; I may never have realized my path in life was to be involved in community events. And most importantly, without them, I may never have realized my thoughts deserved to be heard--I learned to use my voice.

Twenty-two years ago, I snuck out of my house and got grounded for a week. All I can say is...

It was worth it!

Setting fire to the New Year...

The New Year is the strangest holiday. There is so much build up and then in a fleeting second the anticipation is over and the year has begun. As a folklorist it's almost a requirement to understand why people celebrate each holiday as they do, so this year it was a goal to take hold of the New Year and create significant meaning in my mind.

The last day of 2014 was spent figuring out a great meal to prepare, and as I drove the streets of Salt Lake City, I listened to the radio hearing the voices of strangers across the world and their ways of celebrating. Wishes were being cast into the universe. Somewhere in the east people were lighting lanterns to fly across the ocean for luck, and it made me think of Prometheus.

Prometheus, the Titan who sided with the Gods, created man from mud, and gave each of us the gift of fire for protection and ritual. If anything could be asked for in 2015, forethought of the human race should be considered. Late in the evening I set to the task of truly thinking of the things I want for the coming year(s). I wrote them down and decided to release them to the universe in a fashion Prometheus would approve, allowing the smoke of my wishes to rise to the skies.

As the paper ignited, cheers ensued from my surrounding neighbors. I added my voice to the mix--yelling out a Happy New Year. The flame was quick to ignite, and I watched as my wishes lifted to the heavens. The vapor of their smoke may take awhile to hit the stars, but I set them on their path along with the fire to kindle their reality.

Temptations and Resolutions...

It's almost the new year, and I'm tempting fate with downtown parking at a new coffee shop. As I listen to the radio today, and see the news, I'd like to say this post is going to be all light and fluffy; I'd like to say I have grand plans for the moment the New Year is rung in; I'd like to say I have a magical kiss waiting for me when the clock strikes midnight, but reality is  sometimes the new year is a reflection of the past. It is the moments that break our hearts the most that teach us the life lessons we need for the coming year. This year has had many ups and I would say one hard down, but all in all 2014 brought many great insights to my life, and I want to remember them.

This New Year will be spent alone. I will count down the seconds to the new year and sip on a neat whiskey when the ball falls. It sounds depressing to some, but 2014 taught me it's time to focus on what I truly need in life. My needs are not extravagant. I do not need millions of dollars, I don't want a wardrobe of slim fitting clothes, I don't need to have a new gym membership or a new car; I don't want a fancy job title. All I need this year is to work on me; work on all the passions I have in my life; work on seeing more of the world and those who are in it.

And so, though I'm tempted to ask for a full time job; tempted to push my life in a new direction; tempted to pick up and move; tempted to take control, instead I will focus on what I already know. I will let my life take shape instead of attempting to mold it into perfection. This year, my resolution is to recognize that at times I may be tired, but I have so many passions and it is always time to be working on them. I will write, I will read, I will teach, I will bake, I will knit, I will be me--and enjoy every moment of it and be thankful for the friends and family I get to share it with.

To everyone....

Happy New Year!

Dear Santa...

You may be frantic right now, as it is your busiest day of the year. Hopefully, you're not where I was two days ago, having a mental break down in the grocery aisle when I realized I couldn't afford the good balsamic vinegar. (Why is it always grocery stores that make me panic?) Truthfully, my spirit for the holiday hasn't been what I hoped for this year.

But may I just tell you, no matter how the present Christmas feels--I will always believe in you!!!


I guess I just wanted to say thanks for the small (yet monumental) gifts you gave me this year:

When I was down and out, driving to work, you miraculously appeared next to my side on a bright yellow tricked-out scooter blaring the music "All I Want for Christmas is You," by Mariah Carey. That made me truly smile for the first time in months, and the ability to wave to you made me truly feel the spirit of the season, if only for a moment. And I guess all we can ask for is moments. Then, at my cookie party, you gave me my wish--I saw snow flurries cascading off the streetlamps surrounding my house at night. The street was quiet and echoed my glee as each flake tickled while melting off my nose. Finally, as I began writing this letter to you, I was able to wait for the best gift of all: My parents.

With the folks, the holiday is complete. This year, I may not have actual presents for them to unwrap, but I know our conversations around the many dinners, coffees, and couches will be the merriest of all.

Thanks Santa for showing me what this time of year is all about--the moments we get to spend together, and the ease which magic can come into your life if you let it. This Christmas, I wish you safe journeys; I wish you cleverness in your ability to sneak past traps children may have placed to catch a glimpse of you (be warned: talking robots with trip-wire string may be placed near fireplaces); I wish you all the joy and cookies you can partake in.

And may I say--I feel lucky in life that you have made your presence know to me not only in my youth, but my adulthood as well. I shall be listening for the bells of your sleigh always. The smile you bring me each and every year is the true gift.

Merry Christmas Santa!!!

D.dot