When the Saints Go Marching In...

Grandmama passed away this evening. I'm heartbroken, but happy she's in peace where she belongs.

Love you, beautiful Grandmama.

Thanks to all who provided patience, understanding, prayers, and support. I've not been myself lately and it might be a while until I'm fully back. That said, I'm making a real effort to do so.

Goodnight all--
Katharine Dos

Clarification

I do not dislike Meadows.  I am glad I am going to SMU.  I love my classes and I love my friends.  However, I have had a rough start to the semester (for reasons largely unrelated to the world of academia), I experienced my second SMU campus hit-and-run in a year, and was frustrated with the lighting/DRS conflict.  This means that I've had a rough couple of weeks and a couple of frustrations with the school.  This does not make me dislike the school.  (If you want some SMU-lovin, note the first group I thanked on my 2009 Christmas list here, my mini smu gratitude in TJ.com here, and an SMU-lovin rant here.  Do the research before pointing fingers, mi amigos.)  I don't intend to insult the school or its students, because I like and enjoy both.  I just had an unfortunate couple of weeks is all.

Now, if anyone has any further questions, I would be more than happy to address them individually and in person.  Otherwise, have a lovely day, my friends!

Mansfield College as my Plumfield

We've already established that I have this delusional fantasy that I am--in some way--Josephine March.  Anyone who knows the plot of Little Women knows the basic outline: father's off at war, mother at home, three sisters.  Jo yearns for adventure and to travela and write great books. She's proposed to by her best friend, falls in love with a German professor in New York, and loses her sister.  Her Aunt March is the wealthy spinster living in Plumfield.  Aunt March leaves the estate to Jo; it's enormous, and would make the perfect school.  That has always sounded glorious to me.  I am enamored of old buildings (I broke down crying at an empty church in Nice that had built in the 1300s simply because I was so moved by its age and history) and I love learning about what has happened in them.  (I had a quasi-creepy obsession with Parkland Hospital before its renovation, and I am so envious of Ronnie Claire's house--which was a 1903 church--that I can't explain it to you.)  Anyway, I've obviously been spending a great deal of time at Grandmama's lately.  In a way I can't really explain, it's been fun.  (I feel a tangent coming on, so prepare yourselves.) 

Maybe you've discerned this by now, but we have an exceptionally close family.  As my mother and I were discussing tonight, losing Grandmama is really like losing a parent.  It's not just the fact that she's Grandmama and she's magical and easily the best human being I've known--it's that she helped raise me and my sister, and that I've spent more time with her than some immediate family.  Abby and I have spent an inordinate amount of time with her and almost viewed her as a second magical mother--one who only had the fun tasks and none of the disciplining.  It's a hard thing to part from.  My mother provided the discipline; Grandmama provided the conscience.

At any rate, just as Grandmama no doubt planned, this unfortunate event has spawned incessant family time.  And in a weird way, it's like some awful holiday that brought us all together.  There's constantly company, family, and food.  And she's just daintily slumbering in her room as the festivities continue.  And you almost think that nothing's wrong as everyone's sharing stories and reminscing, watching movies, and eating.  (Lots of eating.  Seriously.  As a poor/constantly ravenously hungry college student, I'm not complaining.)

The only time we all start losing is talking about a particularly touching memory--or even moreso--when company comes by and mentions an inevitably glorious memory of Grandmama and what she's meant to them.  It's incredibly touching.  People who have had minimal contact with her have had stories to share. It's a remarkable testament to how many people she's touched and the legacy she has left.

At any rate, in the midst of my afternoon of family-time, Kara, Ab, and I were snuggled up on the couch (well, let's be honest...I don't snuggle. Just comfy? Whatever.) chatting away about old memories and somehow I started inquiring about Grandmama and her mother--their difference.  This led to discussions of Aunt Margaret (Granny--Grandmama's mother's) sister.  Abby is convinced that I am Aunt Margaret--who never married and became a teacher, had a stroke and then remained in a vegetative state for nearly 15 years.  I sincerely hope this is not my fate, though I have no doubt she was a lovely lady.

Anyway, we started talking about the Calhouns and Gladwater and Mansfield and I was reminded of REALLY early memories from Mansfield.  I have a remarkably cool family.  The Keouns had a piano shop (I seriously need to research/ask for more stories about this) and Reimer and Hope Calhoun owned/lived in Mansfield College.  I have some relatively faint memories there and I have always been fascinated by it's history.  Kara reminded me that it had been a College (and there were classrooms upstairs) and was a hospital during the Civil War (seriously. coolest. thing. ever.) and then went back to being a college and then became Hope and Reimer's house.  Reimer was also a Louisiana Senator.  (Yeah, definitely didn't know that information as a child.)

Here's the blurb I found on the Mansfield website about it:

Mansfield Female College oldest women's college west of the Mississippi River. Mansfield Female College was founded by the Methodists here in the 1800's. Mansfield Female College operated for 80 years, but it closed in 1930, merging with Centenary College in Shreveport. The first graduating class was in 1856 under the direction of Dr. Henry Coleman Thweatt. Behind the College, still standing in tact, is the Lyceum. This was the gym and dining area downstairs and upstairs was the Auditorium with a stage. Reimer Calhoun Sr. bought the building in 1940. The two top floors were removed from the College when he purchased it as he made it into his family residence. This museum was added to the Secretary of State's Museums Program during the 2003 legislative session.

And you know the film The Great Debaters  with Denzel Washington from 2007? Filmed there.  How crazy is that? 

Anyways this absolutely completed my fantasy of having an Aunt with this fantastic old house from the Civil War (seriously!) with all this history.  I desperately want to make a pilgrimage down to see it--although it's sadly not owned by Hope anymore.  Can't blame her though--awfully huge undertaking for an older woman.  Still, pretty incredible.  Makes me want to write a story...Historical fiction based on family history, perhaps?....Hmmmm...I like it!

A Moment of Materialism: iPad? eeePC?

Turns out more people read this thing than I thought!  Thanks for the texts/comments/emails (and even an office meeting) letting me know you read.  I really do appreciate it.

Do any of you kids keep blogs? Let me know and I'll post a link on the side.

In the meantime, I'm contemplating purchasing either an iPad (WHY that name? I still don't understand.) or eeePC.  Any opinions?

Spring Cleaning and Such

Eventful weekend.

Grandmama's still sleeping.  Hasn't responded since Wednesday night (Thursday morning?) Regardless, pretty sure she's said her last.

Still hurts recognizing that.

Determined tonight that I think I am in shock.  Or maybe I'm just going through a phase of it.  Not aching all over anymore, but just desiring to be at the house ALL the time.  I cannot express the comfort of being in the house with her.  Maybe I'm still hanging on.  Or maybe I think it somehow offers her comfort or happiness.  Or maybe I just want to grab every ounce of Grandmama magic before she's completely gone.  Regardless, I have absolutely no desire to go to school tomorrow.

And on that note, SMU rant...for those that want to skip, I'll give you some brackets where the SMUangst stops...

[begin SMU rant]
I auditioned for SMU theater and decided to go there because I thought it was where my theatrical education would be best rounded out.  I did not need to get a theater degree.  I could have a degree in something else.  I chose to get a theater degree because I thought it would be enjoyable and profitable.  With that in mind, I thought SMU would provide that and have my best interest in mind.  I am now questioning whether or not that is actually the case.

I auditioned for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels last week (last week? two weeks ago? Lawsy, I've lost track of time entirely...).  If you know me at all, you KNOW that I was dying to be in this show.  Kalita Humphries, Uptown Players, Cheryl Denson, great show, great dancing.  Basically, it's guaranteed magic.  Auditioned. It went well.  Callback? Not so much.  Callback was the night I really found out about Grandmama.  No bueno.  I checked out, and stopped caring halfway through the dance call. (WHAT?! You know that's not like me..especially for people I respect and a show I really want.)  Regardless, it apparently worked out okay because I got cast. NO FREAKING WAY, right? Excitement abounds.  Glorious excitement.

It conflicts with my lighting crew assignment. Stellar.  Didn't think this was going to be an issue.  So long story short, I attempt to negotiate with the run crew person ("can I switch with another student? could I get an incomplete and do it later? could I drop the course and take it next semester?). No, no, and no.  Yes, we will work around student projects that are tentative and taking place in our basement.  No, despite the fact that we did not cast or even call you back for a single thing in our department, you may not do a professional show.  Why? Because not enough people signed up for this course and we need you to run the lighting board?

Oh? Well gosh darn.  I am SO sorry to be inconveniencing you.  I'm sorry for thinking we were paying an inordinate sum of money for me to experience theater--which preferably involves actually doing it.  I'm sorry that even though I signed up for lighting LAST semester and you kicked me out because you had TOO MANY students, that I am now inconveniencing you because this semester you have too few.  I'm sorry that my professional gig in an amazing space doesn't qualify as real theater because it is a) in Dallas and b) a musical.  OH WAIT.  Kitchen Dog and Dallas Theater Center are the only theaters in Dallas, aren't they.  Excuse me.  I'm so sorry.

[PS: the you to which I refer is a general thing--anger is definitely not directed towards one individual]

I'm going to class and I'm happily doing the work.  (This said, I am in some GREAT classes.  My theater history professor is an epic genius and I am loving that class this semester, and last semesters profs continue to be fantastic)  I'm dropping lighting, because guess what?  I'm getting this degree for me.  That's what my money and time are going towards.  It's not narcissistic.  It's practical.  C'est tout.

[end SMU rant]

Spent the day in Garland with the family.  It was glorious.  Accidentally slept through Bedside Baptist (the half-joking name my mother gave to the church services we've been having in Grandmama's bedroom complete with guitars and pianos and singing.) It might have done me particular good this week--I probably need to confess all my ill feelings towards SMU right now.  Hymns, for some reason, are really particularly difficult for me to sing around her.  It's likely because music is the most spiritual experience I can fathom and also the most personal.

Saw Mame last night at Hockaday.  Lovely to see the baby Hockadaisies makin' me proud.  In the meantime, I'm making an effort to really get back on track this week.  Eat healthily, exercise, map out Ursula, map out Lefty scene thoroughly, get normal sleeping hours, attend all classes happily, and be kind (in general.)  All good goals.   All doable.

Here we go.

PS: Does anyone actually read this thing ever?  I occasionally get randos saying "Oh, I was reading your blog the other day and..." Show me some love!  I do really write this to get stuff outta my system, but I'd love to know if anyone really looks at this thing, so share a comment if you please!

I'm Having a Good Day

It's pretty awesome.

Watched District 9 last night.  Cool film, but I'm not in love with it.  Very Avatar-y.  Aliens, we come in and screw them over.  We get it.  It's an analogy.  I want out of the war too.  I just don't want to watch dozens of beat-you-over-the-head analagous movies about it.

Watching Hurt Locker now. Really hard to watch.  But it's soooo well done.

Rehearsal tonight, then probably going to Alexandres.  Good times.  Spending in time in G-town tomorrow.  Then seeing Mame at Hockaday. I am PUMPED!

Yep, life's okay for now.

Beth and Jo

Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety. It shows itself in acts rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations.  Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to God and nature, Father and Mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, "I'm glad to go," for life was very sweet for her. She could only sob out, "I try to be willing," while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together.

Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way..."I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven." Jo leaned down to kiss the tranquil face, and with that silent kiss, she dedicated herself soul and body to Beth.

Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever, for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude. Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said "I feel stronger when you are here." Precious and helpful hours to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed. Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them, charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly.

So the spring days came and went , the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as Father and Mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.

When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snowdrops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.