The Girl in the Trees

I've been thinking ever more about how much I need the forest. Contrary to popular Christian ideology (and that of my father and my father's father and my friend's father and my sister's father...), I do not believe that human beings are somehow outside of nature. I'm another animal, another strand of this great web. I did not create the web, I do not control the web, I am simply a part of it. My part is no greater and no more important than any other part.

All of my beliefs started with the Disney movies of my childhood:

The Lion King and Pocahontas taught me my place in the world and how to love nature and be apart of nature.

Beauty and the Beast taught me about selfless love that sees past appearances.

I don't want to sound childish but it's totally true.

"The rainstorm and the river are my brothers, the heron and the otter are my friends, and we are all connected to eachother in a circle, in a hoop that never ends."

"I know every rock and tree and creature has a life, has a spirit, has a name."

When the lion dies he becomes the grass and the antelope eats the grass. And the lion eats the antelope. It's the circle of life.

And that is what I believe in.

My family used to go camping twice a year, once in early Summer and once in late Summer. We don't anymore. This past Summer I camped once with a friend and it just didn't feel like the kind of camping I love. I guess my kind of "camping" is just a way to pretend for a time that I live in the woods. I feel like I should live in the woods. I forage, go for early morning walks, look for pretty stones in the creek for hours, braid flowers into my hair... just sit alone in the woods. I love the forest. I love bears. I love deer. I love trees. I love how I can hear the spirits when I'm out there. I especially love the wolves. Since I was a little girl, the wolf has been my spirit guide. I dream about them. Sometimes they're communicating with me, sometimes I'm playing with their cubs, sometimes I'm being attacked, torn apart. But I've never been any less in love with them, no matter what the dream. I'm not saying I wouldn't protect myself or my family if the need arose, but I will never demonize the wolves. They will never, EVER, be any less beautiful in my eyes. The wolves taught my ancestors to live and hunt in packs. Without them, my people would not know what animals were good to hunt. Wolves are important.

They're important TO ME.

I feel that as an animal and especially as an artist I'm sensitive to my instincts. My instincts tell me to run to the woods. Go to the mountains. I have romanticized mountains hopelessly. I wouldn't call myself a "country girl" or "western" because I'm not a cowgirl type or anything, but I am a mountain girl and I've always been in the west. The west is my home. I want to travel. So, so much. But the west, with it's frontier personality and gold rush history (my home town is Placerville, where they hung bad guys during the California Gold Rush)... that's a part of me. I would love to live in the mountains near the ocean with a simple little house and (just to satisfy my romanticized need for fantastic attachment to my native roots!) a teepee to camp in. I would live with a mountian man with a logger beard, artistic tendencies, and a deep appreciation for the nature of our native west, and make beautiful little forest babies with him. We'd both have doctorates in anthropology, unschool our children with all our vast knowledge, and take them on our travels to archeological digs in foreign lands. And I'd teach them the art of dreamcatcher weaving, because I am a dork, and I want to pass on some kind of knowledge to them. My dreams!

What are your dreams? I've been shaped by Disney movies, what have you been shaped by?

Love,

Belle

PSYCH is back and I have no television!!

What does one do when her favorite bromantic crime-fighting comedians return to the world of television for their 6th season and the stupid TV people can't get a line-of-site and she's doomed to a life of television-less-ness?!! O, the humanity!!
To clarify, I am not a TV addict. I am a technology-denying- live-in-the-woods-with-a-garden-and-no-electricity- sort of girl. But my greatest weakness is PSYCH. Scratch that, my greatest weakness is Shawn Spencer. He is all that I want to be in life... Except a man... I do not want to be a man. But besides that! He's a "psychic" (actually a hyper-aware people-reader who pretends to be a psychic to get jobs), a private detective (a "psychix detective", eh? Eh?), a super funny/weirdo/eccentric... just like me! Woo! Oh, how I love that show.
Never fear, I have a wonderful buddy. My lovely friend, Shenanigan, has TV... and she can record shows. See where I'm going with this? She's recording PSYCH for me!! And I can go over and watch some time!! Yay! Obviously I'm terribly excited.
I love Wednesdays. It means I don't have to do homework. Tomorrow my only class is yoga, and by all that is holy, I truly love yoga.
And Swedish people. I love Swedes, too. Listen to this, if you can. It's First Aid Kit, from Sweden.
I have no point anymore. My mind is drifting aimlessly, and I fear for what crap I might write! Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah blah blahblahblshblsfkf.

Well, I'm actually not sure what this post is about.

So school started in September, and I've been quite busy. I've got two literature classes and, boy , let me tell you: that's alotta reading. And writing. Essays. Responses. AAAHH! Not to mention my many other classes and their respective work loads. But that is A-OK. I. Can. Do. It.
Truly all I want to do though is go into the woods. Craft a mask of wood. Fashion a wolf hat of yarn. A wolf in sheep's clothing. That is what I seem to be. A wolf living this life of sheep. Dance around a fire- as the flames grow higher and higher- with a frenzied abandon known only to those who have truly left the building! In a literal and metaphorical sense: literally left buildings and metaphorically left the prevailing cultural notion that we must all be the same. Collect berries at dawn, grind grain at noon, partake of homemade wines at sunset, dance beneath the moon at midnight and on. And on. The rain has come and all
I want to do is dance. The rain makes me want to dance.
October is the best month. I wait all year for the fleeting perfection of October. And I'm wasting it sitting in school. I can't stand living in a neighborhood. I am not programmed for conventional society.
I'm really looking forward to All Hallows Eve this year! I'm hoping to go to the PF haunted house, the GB pumpkin patch/corn maze, and host a smashing Halloween party. I'm wrestling with myself on that one. I don't see the purpose or fun in partying, to be honest. Why would I hang out with a bunch of people I only marginally like, who will probably destroy my house, and open the door to stupid drunken teen drama. I have seen far too many teen movies to be naive to the ways of high school/college parties. On the other hand, I'm a teenager and I am NOT supposed to be this wise. I SHOULD be out partying, pirating illegal videos, recklessly driving, getting smashed, and basically being completely uncaring about the problems I create for others and myself. I should be an ignorant jerk, making multiple mistakes. Sadly, there would be no lesson learned from these mistakes as I have literally learned them all already without having to do the stupid things to learn them. I am much too intuitive. It is a curse. And I'm very grateful for it as it is a gift as well. Strange days...
Basically, the moral of the story is: I'm having a raging Halloween party and, against my better judgement, I will be inviting people other than my two friends. I mean, I have lots of aquaintance-friends but I really only like my two best friends and don't see any value in hanging out with other people. I am a shadowy recluse.
Umm... I love Samantha Crain and First Aid Kit. Please check them out. That is all.
Love,
Belle

Identity

Identity is a topic I've been thinking on quite a bit as of late. What determines who we are, or where we belong? My mom and I share a love of genealogy and in the past few years have found alot of different ethnic groups represented in our ancestors. Recently I've been finding more on my dad's side, too. See, I have found everything but African and Asian (Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc...). Seriously, I think you could name any European group and we've found someone in the rolls- including Spanish, Italian, Scandinavian, Belgian, Russian, and Prussian (and many more). As well as Romany Gypsy and Native American (Cherokee, Blackfoot, Mashpee Wampanoag, Aquinnah Wampanoag, Narragansett). I'm an anthropologist. I delight in rich cultures and rich heritage. I've always wanted to be a part of something, have a heritage I could be proud of. And I am. I'm proud of every part of my heritage. I love being all those things. Being able to look in the mirror and see it in my face. It's good to not be just one thing. Right?
I kind of feel lost sometimes, unsure of who I am. Being American is so obscure. We are indeed a melting pot. We have a culture- McDonald's. We are a young country and don't have a full-on rich culture. Hispanics have their heritage, African Americans have their heritage, Irish Americans have their heritage, and we're all united by our common American-ness. Being such a mix I feel connected to all of the cultures of the various peoples my ancestors came from, but like I don't truly belong in any of them. The Blackfoot would call me a "wannabe", the Roma would call me an outsider, to the French I'm not truly French, I'm not just Irish, or just Welsh. I know that who I am as a person is not dependent on my genetic heritage, but is it so wrong to want to belong somewhere. I wear moccasins and celtic necklaces and eat German food and drink wine like a true French jaune fille, but does that come across in a way that I don't want it to? You say: My Culture Is Not A Trend. But can I wear feathers in my hair and Irish sweaters and "Gypsy" skirts and Nordic prints anyway? What if it's my culture too? Just because my ancestor lived a hundred years before yours, does that make them any less real? Any less Scottish? Any less Cherokee? Any less Italian or Jewish? I mean, it makes my DNA less Scottish and Cherokee and whatever, but should that mean that I have less right than you to celebrate that part of myself? I love my heritage. I just don't want to be an outcast because those who came before me decided to marry very diverse people. I just want to have a niche. Somewhere people will be like me, but different. Learn about "our people", our language, our customs. But I can't change people's minds. Not really. When you look at me, I don't really look one way, if I tell you things I am, you'll say that you can see that, but one couldn't really say otherwise. Eh, maybe I'm just whiny and confused, but I wish I could belong to something- be it a clan, a tribe, a band, a group. I just don't know people like me. Anyway.
Love,
Belle

Yesterday, Meet Today. Shake Hands.

Oh, yesterday. Dear, sweet, yesterday...
Yesterday was International Talk Like a Pirate Day (as I'm sure everyone knows) and I, of course, had to celebrate. I'm very much a pirate. My ancestor on my mom's mom's side is the infamous Captain Kidd. And my name is Bellamy, as in Black Sam Bellamy. And my last name is Foley, which is Irish for "pirate or plunderer". Anyway, I decided that- as I had a full day of classes- it would probably be awfully disruptive of me to talk like a pirate. Teacher: "Bellamy, what did you think of last night's assigned reading?" Me: "Arrgh! It seemed that th' comedic style was jus' a mask fer thee underlying social and political issues o' the time, cap'n, arrgh." We are currently reading the Lysistrata. (Which reminds me *homework*). Messed up play from ancient Greece. Basically, women withold sex from the menfolk in order to stop the Peloponnesian War. Vulgar, Sexist, and Hi-larious. So instead I wore a pirate hat to school. Ahoy, Mateys! How the hell do you spell the plural form of "matey"?
...Back to yesterday...
After class I met up with the ever-charming Shananigan and we went to Goodwill. Now, I simply must relay the fascinating story of my wardrobe malfunction and reveal the secret to why I shall possibly never be wearing a certain skirt EVER AGAIN: It was a chilly September morning when I awoke to the sound of my mother's soothing voice shrilly barking commands from downstairs. "Oy, girl, git yer kaboose outta bed, ye mangy scum. Aaah." Choking back tears at her vicious reprimand, I realized with a start that I had slept through my alarm. By an hour! So I dashed outta bed (like mangy scum) and hopped in the shower for a ten-minute cleaning. I hurriedly dressed (as it was quite cold) and hastily jotted down a current event from this here computer. I was wearing a lovely short lace skirt-with-built-in-slip, black tights, a black tank, my favorite brown riding boots, a chunky oatmeal sweater, and my lovely and over-sized brown pirate hat. I looked dashing if I dare say so myself. And of course I dare, as I am QUITE daring. While walking from the SUB to my Anthropology class a kind man informed me gently that I was having "some issues". You know when backpacks cause your skirt to slide up your bum?

I do.

So there I was, confidently strutting around campus in my pirate gear with my pretty lavender underwear framed beneath my tribal-print backpack for all to see. The situation was easily remedied and I simply held my skirt down when walking for the remainder of the day. Which only added to the ridiculousness of my appearance and my quiet yet poignant amusment at the situation. After class I met up with Shananigan, drove to Goodwill and found some bright (and lordy do I mean BRIGHT!) orange shorts overalls on sale for $1.05. Gladly I made the purchase and changed into them in a cafe restroom. The same cafe that I later performed in for open mic night, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
That, dear readers, is the story of why the heck Bellamy was wearing safety-orange overalls and a pirate hat.
My senior quote in the yearbook is going to be: "Take off the pirate hat. It's way too much with the orange overalls." Because there is definitely an air of mystery to it, yes? Well, there would be if you didn't already know the whole story. Yes?
I also had a knit yellow beret in my bag and put it on with my overalls and brown boots and asked Shananigan if I looked like a giant candy corn. She said yes.
There were alot of interesting characters at Calypso's for open mic night, one of my favorites was the nice drunk lady outside on the sidewalk who kept saying "you play that, yep. Be louder. Doin' good, girlfriend!" before being forcibly removed by her more sober-seeming family. Oh, drunk lady. No, you go girlfriend. Some other favorites were the coffee guy Shananigan bought a bottled water from and subsequently decided to marry, and the quirky fellow who played the banjo and screamed along rather odd lyrics. I decided that I would marry him. Along with the dude with the mohawk in my literature class, 'cause he's so cool.
I was the last act of the evening, and sadly my 15 minutes were more like 5 minutes as everyone else had been allowed to go overtime. Sad Bellamy. But I signed up for next week, earlier into the night, so I'll have plenty of time. Yesterday I sang "Lost in My Mind" by The Head and The Heart and "Jolene" by Ray LaMontagne (not the same as "Jolene" by Dolly Parton, though I love that song too). I also wanted to sing one of my originals but, alas!, I shall next week. Hopefully screaming banjo man will be there again. It's cool that my little group finally has an actual hangout, we've always said we should have one.
Today, was basically boring and the highlight will no doubt come at 9:01 p.m. when the show New Girl has it's first ever episode on Fox. I've been waiting with bated breathe all summer. I'm not exactly a TV addict, but I adore Zooey DeChanel (and her sister Emily, who plays Temperance Brennen on the hit show Bones) and especially want to see this show because the character is the only girl roommate in an apartment full of guys. And that's my dream. Ever since the movie The Roommate I'm kind of turned off to having a girl roommate. I don't know why... Besides, boys do tend to be cooler and more fun, in my experience. There are lots of wicked awesome girls in the world (me, my friends) but girls are often judgemental and snobby, whereas boys usually aren't. Fact of Life, readers.
Wow, writing felt good. Yay!
Love,
Belle

My Friend, my friend, and myself

This Monday started out like any other Monday in the life of Bellamy. I left for school at 8. Got there, was told by a security guard that a water line was having issues and the only parking was in the two open lots, and drove around looking for a spot that I- with my sadly sub-par parking skills- could worm my way into.
...so maybe not any other day...
I ended up parking 30 minutes walk across town in a neighorhood behind the public library. It indeed did sucketh, dear readers. And I am sore (*pouty face*). I also had to suffer through a disgustingly hefty load of books on the 30 minute walk to the college and my Literature of Western Civilization class (which I had apparently had an internet assignment for in the previous week that I had not done. You know, this class wan't even supposed to be internet-based at all. It is not what I was expecting, but I really love the in-class discussions so I kind of just grin. and. bear it.). Then I got out of my Computer class early for my lunch break and decided that, since I had alomst 2 hours to kill, I should walk back to my car and dump all the stuff that I didn't need. In all, it was an hour walk to my car and back to school. I enjoyed 2 more thrilling classes (Physical Anthropology and Intro to Literature) before meeting up with Shananigan (who is now attending NIC, too!) and once again trekking to my oh-so-far-away car. We drove it back to the school- thankfully the daytime classes were over and there were open parking spaces close to the school. We walked around downtown 'til about 6 then headed over to Calypso's for open mic night. Sadicus joined us later, and we laughed and enjoyed Shananigan's recent spiritual awakening and listened to second-rate singers and danced with wild abandon... on our asses... without leaving our seats. That still counts as dancing with wild abandon, right? Then walked back to our cars through the creepy nightime park and and parted ways once we reached the lot. Yes, I love my friends. Thursday I'm possibly attending the first French Club meeting of the year at the high school. But only if I have enough gas for the rest of the week. I'm spending Thursday night with Shan-Shan at my sister's apartment (to babysit her weiner dog) and we shall sing and write songs along with my lovely guitar. Friday we're going to go to the high school to meet this year's foreign kids, because we LOVE foreign exchange kids. I mean, foreigners tend to be so much cooler than the chaps of Northern Idaho, and I hear there is an Australian guy this year. Here's hopin' that he's cute.
Saturday my dad is hopefully taking me to see the wolf people, and Shananigan may come then too. We're making up for her antisocial summer working for the slave drivers known as Silverwood Theme Park. Sunday is a day for any residual homework from the previous school week, and Monday I plan to play Calypso's open mic night. I'm pretty excited!
Honestly, It's only Tuesday and this is looking to be the best week I've had in a REALLY long while.
Check out this youtube video on "unschooling". I love it. I think I'll "unschool" my future children.

My laptop has been experiencing major technical difficulties since we moved and this is my grandparents computer, so i can't post pictures from it. Hopefully I'll figure a way around that soon. But until then, bear with me and my text-only posts. I'll try to link to other sites and videos as often as possible to keep things interesting.

Love,

Belle

I rode my Firefly to a River of Serenity

Well...

Still moving.

You know the best part about moving? Being able to decorate the new room (or house, if you're the household adult). I just love decorating! This room is Moroccan bazaar themed, and I'm pretty psyched to make it all pretty... and have a clean, shiny, new room for a while!

You know the worst part of moving? Moving.

I camped this weekend- hence I haven't been around the blogosphere. It was a pretty wild weekend, complete with stumbling into the woods (1st night) at 11 pm and trying to put up Shenanigan's ridiculously difficult tent in the pitch black on a hillside right off the road, packing everything back up the next day to find a better camp spot, running back into town for batteries and water, partying like previously home-schooled college kids, and throwing up (That was me. I barfed in the campfire. Alot.). I was sick for the 4th because I was stupid on the 3rd. Jolly good.

I'm making stuffed mushrooms as I write and listening to Joni Mitchell with my dear mumsykins. That's an endearing way to say mom, in case you were wondering.

Now, without further ado I shall share with the world my undeniable love for Firefly and specifically the character River Tam. River is the mentally traumatized psychic assassin spaceship-dwelling teenager in the show Firefly (it and Alias are my VERY favorite shows). My 12-year-old nephew saw this part and said she reminded him of me. This was the greatest compliment of my life. I have the series on DVD and have watched it multiple times! I didn't include River in my previous post on fictional idols because I'm pretty much just like her. I guess I could just be my own idol. But that would be vain. Hhaha! Anyhoo, love this show!!! And love you too!!! Love,

Belle.