Crash, crash. Burn!

So, I have all 3 of 30 Seconds to Mars' albums... and I like them.  But I never really *listened* before.  Well my good friend *b* posted a video of this randomly strange girl transforming herself into Jared Leto using nothing but makeup, time and talent (vid here, if you're interested) and it prompted me to watch many YouTube videos of Mr. Leto which led me to the music videos for 30 Seconds to Mars.


I watched them all.  I was captivated.  I have relistened to their 3 albums.  This is War is by far the best album they've produced- soundwise, etc.  But the videos for the singles from A Beautiful Lie captivated me... they're visually stunning, theatrical, and totally fun to watch.  But the song A Beautiful Lie and the video for it just wowed me.  And I don't wow easily.  Okay, maybe that's a lie... but shut up.  But watch it... and then visit abeautifullie.org


Also, Jared Leto looks mighty freakin' fine for a man his age.

With all I have left....

Today my good friend Emmy posted a very moving and inspirational article at her blog, The Magick Tree.  To summarize, a talented but physically handicapped musician sat down to play his violin and shortly into the performance a string broke.  Because getting up and replacing the string and/or finding a new violin to play would be excruciating for the man, he simply urged the conductor to go on and he created the most memorable night possible for his audience as he reworked the piece to accomodate for the missing string.  Afterward, when he'd quieted the uproarious ovation from the audience he humbly said, 


"You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."




Also today, my Uncle Lynden passed away.


He had been very ill in the last year, and... in fact, nearly died last October.  He endured surgery, post operative complications, additional illnesses and didn't come home from the hospital until Christmas Eve of last year.  It seemed like a true miracle.  Last night, in the peace of slumber, in his bed beside his beloved wife, Sandra, my uncle slipped into his next life.  He was only 67 years old.


I have spent the last two days in quiet reflection.  I have mourned my friend Roy, and I have mourned my Uncle Lyn.  I'm not one to pray, since I'm pretty darned sure there ain't nobody to listen... but I do spend time with Mother Nature when things get rough.  Tonight, seeking comfort, I walked the dog to The Flats... my sanctuary.  I stood among the silent stones and watched the setting sun.  I memorized the blue and pink surreal swirls of cloud on the evening sky.  I chased my puppy and laughed with her as we played.  Before I left The Flats, as is my custom, I searched for a stone to bring home.  Tonight two stones caught my eye.  I couldn't decide which one should come home with me... they both seemed right.  So, in honour of my uncle and my friend, I have two new stones to set upon my altar.


And when I feel most down, when I feel hurt and broken... I shall press on, and see what music I can still make with what I have left.


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