I'm cheating.  I'm posting videos I like, as my internal system has crashed.  You may hate the music, which is OK. You can turn the sound down.  This is being voice-overed in ASL.  See how powerful the words are.  Feel them.

MARILYN MANSON:




KANYE WEST ET AL.

My dear friend Susan tagged me for this .  Basically, you pick your favourite holiday songs.  This is the first year where I haven't had to wear ear-protection when shopping.  I kid you not.  The relentless musical joy used to be an awful, ironic score to my dulled, sick and saddened mind.  This year, I'm not bothered.  In fact, I've found myself even humming some carols.  'Tis my season of hope!

You should know that I was born in England, the daughter of an Irish Catholic father and a Scottish Presbyterian mother.  When we moved to Belgium when I was ten, my mental health issues made the school required my seeing a psychiatrist as a condition of my continued enrollment.  So instead, I went to boarding school in England, until we moved to the States.

My fondest memories of the Christmas season were formed early and reinforced by four years at the religious boarding school.  I joined the choir, having tried out as a joke.  The teacher was impressed by my alto through soprano range.  Years later, I sang on stage in New Jersey State Theatre.  My first choice is the carol I sang:


Coventry Carol.

The Holly and the Ivy.

In the Bleak Midwinter.

O Holy Night, (hearing).
O Holy Night, (ASL).

Silent Night. a lovely rendition which makes the sound of silence a sacred affair. 


This was an enjoyable distraction for me.  But I know how crazy the holidays are.  I haven't plucked a single dark hair off my chin in weeks.  So, here's the deal.  If you chose to participate, then it's on you.  Be sure to backlink.  I want to stalk you, 'kay?

A couple of years ago, I took a class in American Sign Language. It's actually very different from British Sign and Canadian Sign: to the point that those speaking each language need an interpretor of sorts. I have heard a few good stories about that and the mis-signing of words.

Me, I'd picked up a sign-language book, which literally translated the spoken (as in, basic American) word to sign-language, and I had practiced for hours. Then I went to the class. Turns out, this book was wrong. American Sign Language (ASL) has it's own rules. I messed up in class; not because I wasn't trying (which I am.....deeply trying), but because I was literally translating from spoken word to ASL. I understood the whole visual thing and the facial expressions. But I kept forgetting that I didn't need to add "is", or "and".

ASL is it's own language, complete with regional "slang". Oddly enough, I lost my voice a short time after the class. I had not realized how much I used it. I had been a soloist, moons ago, and I still love singing despite my rusty pipes. While my mental mind may play many tricks on me, I know that if I can hum, I will be alright. (When my house-mate Cricket's away, I'll belt out songs, which is something that I'm sure my neighbours hate!).

So one night, I wandered down to the local bar to buy a pack of smokes. (Yes, I know! Awful, nasty and takes several years off, to boot!) Anyway, my voice was shot, but I had an absolutely fabulous walk. I had on a hat from a Tibetan Hill Tribe, which clicked and clinked from the hanging seed-beads and bits of metal. This hat makes me happy in so many ways. It was a warm and breezy night, and as I couldn't sing, I signed my songs.

The wind, the clinking and clicking hat and the fact that I was free; that I will remember. I was in a space that was completely perfect. Perhaps, for that moment, I may have touched the divine within.