Bilbo's Labyrinth?

The two Hobbit movies haven't been written yet, but they're close to getting a director: Guillermo del Toro. (Thanks to filmchat for the link.)

On the plus side, the guy's apparently visually creative and good with the monsters--which bodes well for the spiders and, of course, for Smaug. (The spiders I might not watch. A good dragon on the big screen, though? That's worth nine dollars.)

But I have to say, I'm a little worried about the whole thing. I hate the idea of the second movie--a link between The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring, which will be only loosely based on Tolkien's writings and (unless the writers are very careful) could create all sorts of continuity problems. I haven't seen any of del Toro's movies, so I'm not really sure what to think. (I may have to watch Pan's Labyrinth now. . .) By all accounts he's a gifted director, but he seems to have a penchant for darkness and disturbingness. Not ideal for The Hobbit, which is much lighter in tone than The Lord of the Rings--a children's adventure story rather than a prose epic.

But at least the Lord of the Rings people won't be writing this one. I love the trilogy, and always will; but it has some serious weaknesses on the writing side--and the characterization of Gimli is particularly bad. With different writers, there's a chance the Dwarves in the Hobbit will get to be more than awkward comic relief.

And since Peter Jackson is involved, we'll probably get to see more of Ian McKellen's Gandalf. Which is definitely a good thing.

Verily, I muddleth along . . .

But in the midst of my muddling, here are a few things that make me happy:

Gregory Wolfe meditates on the necessity of beauty;

Thomas the Georgian continues his strange saga;

someone very difficult to please (but in a good way!) loves my favorite TV show;

and, lastly and delightfully, it's Friday! Which means I get to go home now, and not be nomadic again until Monday.

Goodbye!

nomadic misadventures

This is the story of my insane week. But to properly appreciate it, you need a little backstory . . .

Over Christmas break two different churches offered me organ jobs. One of them I refused (it didn't pay enough to be worth the time), and the other I tentatively accepted . . . but then it was unoffered (their organist changed her mind about retiring).

So when my employer at my receptionist job offered more hours, I took them. This put me at 19 hours/week, plus 13 hours of classes, plus a 1 1/2 hour commute every day. Which pretty much means I have no life, because whenever I'm not at work, in class, or driving to one of the above, I'm practicing.

Anyway, this Wednesday I woke up feeling awful, and ended up skipping work and my first class. After a little extra sleep I decided I could make it to my other two classes, so I braved the finally-seasonable weather (nasty rain with a little ice mixed in), and drove to class.

Some things are better unbraved.

I ended up with a flat tire and a bent wheel. And I missed my class.

Then I got an email informing me that my scholarship was in danger--because I had failed to fulfill a requirement that no one had told me about. I did make it to my last class of the day; but since this is the class where the professor doesn't care if you skip, and routinely leaves the classroom after 5 minutes to get coffee, it was kind of a waste of time.

I made it home without further incident . . . finished my homework . . . brushed my teeth . . .

. . . and realized I had a random wisdom tooth coming in.

Yeah, not a happy day. Thursday, though, I got a call from the church that had unoffered me the job. Apparently their organist changed her mind (again!), and is actually retiring. So I agreed to play a week from Sunday, and then sit down and discuss things with them. Then the other church called, wanting to talk to me about my concerns and see if we could negotiate a salary.

Only trouble is, I don't have time to take either job now, because of the aforementioned crazy schedule. (When I was considering it back during break, I thought I'd be working maybe 10 hours/week.) I could drop a class, but that would make me a part-time student, and my scholarship would disappear. Permanently. To keep the scholarship, though, I have to join an ensemble--which I also don't have time to do, because of the same crazy schedule.

So the long weekend? Very much my friend right now. And I'm really hoping one of the organ jobs works out, because dropping a class and making more money is looking like the best of my possible worlds. Might even let me move to Rivertown, and end my days as a nomad . . . which would simplify my life exponentially.

Hugs to all my faithful readers . . . I miss you. Lots.

Epiphany song

A stable lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.

This child through David's city
Shall ride in triumph by;
The palm shall strew its branches,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
And lie within the roadway
To pave his kingdom come.

Yet he shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
For stony hearts of men:
God's blood upon the spearhead,
God's love refused again.

But now, as at the ending,
The low is lifted high;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
In praises of the Child
By whose descent among us
The worlds are reconciled.

Richard Wilbur