I first discovered the existence of Turkish delight a mere couple of years ago, and since then, it has remained on the forefront of my candy-addled brain. If you've never had the pleasure, it's best described as a candy with the texture of licorice, but none of the heavy flavor. Instead, its light taste, often with a hint of rose water, softly caresses the palate. So great is my love for it, I purchased a candy thermometer and attempted to make my own last year, but the attempt was disastrous. Candy is very difficult to make when you're inexperienced. There are few producers of the stuff in the USA, but in Canada, you can find a brand called Big Turk which carries the particular distinction of being chocolate-coated. True, it is not a very fine chocolate, but it's simply delicious. I have imported large packs of the stuff for my individual consumption, and I do not regret that choice.
I was in Canada primarily because 1) I was nearby anyway and 2) I wanted to see Niagara Falls. It was well worth the trip! We were there on the 4th of July, and we were able to walk behind the falls and, later, to see fireworks being set off over them (most gracious of the Canadians to give us that honor). Then, at the end of a well-enjoyed night, peaceful red, white, and blue lights shone onto the falls as they roared away, and our patriotism was matched only by our sense of self-satisfaction.
This was a different wedding, much closer to home. And, in truth, the photo booth props were much closer to our hearts, as well. (If you don't know what OTP stands for in the context of romantic relationships, you just missed out on a pretty good joke!)
Fantasia. I've written four novels and this still feels like the biggest writing project I've ever undertaken, even though it clocked in at a scant 25 pages (plus pictures). The other Disney reviews were pretty cut-and-dried affairs, but the different shorts that went into Fantasia demanded an entirely new level of research and analysis from me. I fear I may have grown a little obsessive towards the end of the project, and, while I understand its prohibitive length, I can't quite forgive the lack of response it received. To pour so much of oneself into something, and feel as though the world has reacted with indifference, is a troubling thing. That's art of any form, though. I'll keep going.
So it is, you know. This is a remarkable music video, as visually inventive as anything I've ever seen. Knowing Japanese doesn't even matter to enjoy the music (heck, I can barely understand it), but still, how many are turned off? How many scanned over it, saw nothing meaningful to the context of their lives, and went on? I should focus on the ones who were amazed by it, or at least amused, but I can't see them. And I didn't even make this. It's maddening to think this way.
Why did I post this on my feed? What did it have to say that I wanted other people to see? I've never owned a jazz club, and I never will, and aside from a petty little self-deception of a writing technique, that's the only substantive suggestion this article contains to the would-be writer. And yet, there was something in it that I connected with, some germ of truth in the wide, worrisome world that told me adulthood was an even more nebulous concept than I'd believed. I am fond of beginnings, and that is all I will ever know.
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