NEW BLOG- NEW NAME

At last the unveiling has arrived. That's right folks, I've officially changed my name and my web address.

My new name is: Melissa B. McAllister
My new blog address is: www.melissamcallister.com.

You can also find my updated email address on the new site.

I'd like to thank all the wonderful internet robots at Blogger for the 2 pleasant years I've spent here. It has been an adventure.

I hope you'll all stop by my new site and say hello. This year I'm committed to writing as well and often as I can.

exploration...

Today I got my first nosebleed of the week. Heck yes, I'm in the desert.

Yesterday was a day of exploration in more than one sense. I began the day by going on a beautiful hike with my new friend Liz. We took the Atalaya Trail. It begins here at St. John's College and ascends about 3 miles into the desert mountains. I cannot describe how incredibly beautiful the landscape is here. What struck me the most was the amount of life that thrives in this environment. We saw lizards and birds and rabbits all along the trail. If you look closely in the picture above you can see a lizard that blends in with the tree.

After returning from the hike, I decided it would be a good idea to drive up to Chimayo, an old New Mexico village about 30 miles north of Santa Fe. Everyone has been talking about how beautiful it is and how I must go see the church there while I am here. So, I punched in the address in my trusty GPS (which I borrowed from my sister for the week) and set off on my journey. At some point I made a wrong turn and the GPS began to "recalculate." Before I knew it I was twisting down red dirt roads around the edge of red rock mesa cliffs. There was no sign of civilisation in sight. Just when I decided to abandon my fruitless search for Chimayo the GPS battery died. So I was lost in the middle of the desert (literally) with no cell phone signal, no directions, and no clue how to get home. I finally found a paved road again, called home and got some spontaneous "map quest" directions to point me towards Santa Fe. It was frustrating at the time, but in hindsight, I probably got to see some of the most beautiful part of New Mexico completely by accident.

(This is a picture of the desert I got lost in. This photo doesn't do it justice.)

I had lunch at the Blue Corn Cafe (recommended by Joy) and visited the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in the afternoon. Last night I continued my exploration by delving into the wells of songwriting that have yet to be tapped. Eva, Ben and I finished our song and really had fun jamming. We perform tomorrow morning for the class. I'm a little nervous, but I am really proud of our song. I'll post the lyrics tomorrow.

Its hard to believe the week is almost over. I've really made some great friends here. Its cool when you can admit that you read Shakespeare plays aloud for fun in your spare time, and nobody looks at you like you're a freak. In fact, they all nod and say, "Yeah, I love doing that." We're all such nerds, but I like being in the company of like minds.

Coyotes and Collaboration These Latter Days...

The entire campus was rudely awaken this morning around 5:24 AM by coyotes. I remember because I sat up straight in the bed with a jerk, my ears ringing, and looked at the clock. I think the most shocking thing about the coyotes was how loud they were. It sounded like a pack of hyenas had literally entered the building and set off the fire alarm. I'd never heard a coyote before and I can tell you they don't sound anything like I expected. I expected them to sound like dogs, or perhaps like howling werewolves. They sound like screaming hyenas. Their voices cut through the night and echoed back and forth as if they were bouncing around inside of a giant metal bell. It was pretty creepy, I have to admit.

However creepy my awakening may have been, the day only got better. We listened to more of each other's songs in class today and then were divided into groups to collaborate on writing a song to present to the class on Saturday. I got in a group with Eva, Ben, and Deborah. Deborah is local, and had to go to work this afternoon so Eva, Ben and I spent 3 hours throwing ideas around and we came up with a collaborative song that I really like. I feel honored to have had the opportunity to create something with these talented artists. Its funny how these things transpire. I would never have expected the song to come out the way it did, but it morphed into a life of its own and reflects a piece of each of us. We've still got to polish the harmonies, and I'm going to attempt at adding some piano to the mix. We'll probably add a second guitar as well. Once its completely finished I will post the lyrics, and maybe a rough recording if someone with a mac can tape it for us. For now, I'll leave you with the title, to wet your appetites. We call it: "Paper Places."

I went to dinner at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame with some of my new friends. I had fish tacos. They were bueno. Then we carpooled to hear Over the Rhine play in concert. This was a unique experience because it was just the two of them on stage. They have a completely different dynamic without the band. I felt like I could have been in their living room. I like it. :) Robert Deeble, who is participating in the songwriting class, opened. He's got a great sound and is just a super nice guy. Check out his music here.

Yesterday at lunch I mentioned to Karin and Linford that their song, Latter Days, helped me get through one of the hardest years of my life - the year I moved back from Germany. I've seen them play numerous times in the last 3 years but never heard them perform that song. When they came back out on stage for the encore at the end of the show Karin said they would end with a song from their album, Good Dog Bad Dog. My heart rose in my throat as an excited hope swelled that they might play Latter Days. My hopes were realized. As soon as Linford played the first chord and Karin sang the first line, "What a beautiful piece of heartache..." the painful yet wonderful memories of my last few months in Munich came rushing in while the tears fell. I cried through the whole song and it was the most beautiful I've ever heard it. Those 3 minutes will go down in history with the most touching experiences of my life. I gave Linford and Karin a big hug after the show and thanked them. I'm not sure if they played it just for me or not. (Probably not.) But nonetheless I feel it was a gift and was not by accident. It was the perfect end to the perfect day. Tonight really made my week.

I'm going hiking tomorrow after breakfast with my new friend, Liz. Hopefully we won't run into any wild coyotes or poisonous lizards on the trail. :)

(Linford Detweiler, piano wizard)

(Karin Berquist, voice from another world.)

(Eva, Robert Deeble, and Me)

Digestion is Neccessary

I sometimes feel great tension between myself and myself. Today has been filled with alternating tides of inspiration and defeat. On one hand I have been so nourished by the community of artists here that I feel almost desperate to create. This morning's class was the best one yet. We began listening to each other's songs. Each song was different, and affected everyone differently. It reminded me how organic songs truly are. They are living, breathing animals that cannot be placed in a cage. After having a wonderful conversation with Karin and Linford at lunch (wherein I confessed that I follow them around the southeast when they are touring) I felt a surge of confidence that I might have a song in me that is just waiting to come out.

However, I also had some very enriching conversations today with other writers about books and words. The excitement of writing prose and poetry began to grip me again throughout the course of the afternoon and peaked during Valerie Sayers' short story reading this evening. I was so drawn into the story that I was leaning over the edge of my chair. I left with a sensation of joy that I haven't experienced off of the dance floor in quite some time. (And if you know me, that's saying something.)

As I watched the sunset, I kept mulling over some phrases I wrote a few weeks ago and I realized I was humming. I thought to myself, "Self, don't lose this before it slips away. This could turn into a great song." So I went to a practice room and began to bang out some chords. I was fairly pleased with what I'd come up with after about a half hour. Something about it was nagging me though. Then, just when I thought I'd finally written something mildly original, I realized that I was playing the exact (and I mean exact) same chord progression as OTR's "Little Did I know." Defeat washed over me like the high tide over a hundred sandcastles.

I wonder if I am meant to write songs or simply play and enjoy the songs written by others. I wonder if writing music isn't really my bag. Perhaps I should focus on other writing genres, such as fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry. I'm not sure. One thing I do know for sure is that I love books and I love music. I will never, ever stop reading or listening.

(The photo of the coy fish above doesn't have anything to do with this post. I took the picture this afternoon at the little pond here. I just thought it was pretty and felt like posting it.)

Rainy Day Writing...

I woke up to this morning to another April shower giving life to the blooming Dogwoods and Redbuds outside. I have the great privilege of spending this entire rainy day at home; alone. My roommate is in Charleston this weekend for the Cooper River Run and I have the house to myself. "What a perfect day for writing," I said to myself as I looked out the window at the gray sky. And writing day it is.

Here I sit in my lovely new study, (compliments of the empty room), with a strong cup of Irish Breakfast tea in my favorite "Hey Roomie" mug from Jenny. My puppy is laying at my feet, perfectly content to work on her "everlasting treat" that I gave her after breakfast. Everything is in place. The lamps are lit, the window shutters are open and Linford is playing a dusty old upright piano somewhere off in the distance. This blog entry is just the preamble. I'm excited to have this day to work on all my random writing projects in turn.

"tip-tip-tip-tap-tap-tip-tip-tap-tap-tap."

The sound of my fingers hitting the keys blends musically with the rhythm of the raindrops. Ahhh.....I have needed a day of solitude for quite some time now. Tis a happy rainy Saturday indeed. :)

the strong discipline tree

I've been coming to terms with some of my frustrations this evening. The primary one is my lack of passion for anything lately. Its very unlike me. I tend to be an overly passionate, intense person. Its not that I don't have moments of excitement or surges of creativity but lately those moments seem to be short lived and peripheral. I think I need more solitude, and more discipline. I suppose that would help a great deal. Especially with writing and with prayer.

I was talking with my friend George tonight about the curse of the muse. Once you have a muse it seems impossible to create (or write in my case) without one. But in reality I think true art comes from within rather than from without. Depending on some outside muse can easily hinder us from ever really improving. Not that outside inspiration is bad, I just think it can become a stumbling block if it becomes the well from which we draw out the essentials of what we are attempting to create. Discipline seems to be a requirement for genuine improvement in any creative activity. It forges ahead even when we want to sit down in the dust of our dry spells and wait for rain. If we didn't have discipline to move us forward we'd die of thirst before we ever reached another well of fresh water. Discipline helps us grow like trees; unnoticeable and slow, but to great strength and stature in the end. I found some truth and encouragement tonight on the subject of strength and prayer from one of Rilke's letters to his wife.

"Life has unending possibilities of renewal. Yes, but this too; that the using of strength in a certain sense is always increase of strength also; for fundamentally we have to do only with a wide cycle: all strength that we give away comes over us again, experienced and altered. Thus it is in prayer. And what is there, truly done, that is not prayer?"

I think Rilke got this right, at least in his summation of strength and the way giving it also produces it. But I think it produces strength of a different kind; the kind that helps us endure, like trees, for many years through all sorts of weather. And perhaps prayer is like this too. The more we pray and discipline ourselves to it, the more our own prayers enrich and strengthen our spirits to pray more, and as a result we grow.

My problem with disciplines like these is that I lack patience. I would like to make an attempt to find regular periods of solitude in my life. I think I need to stop watching so much television, for starters. I think it would quiet my mind and spirit. Hopefully, I will be able to say as Rilke wrote to Rodin that, "I am able more and more to make use of that long patience you have taught me by your tenacious example; that patience which, disproportionate to ordinary life which seems to bid us haste, puts us in touch with all that surpasses us."

I think this patience is key.

I hope to write more this week. Come back again soon. :)