Wishing

My heart has been set on wishing. There's something I want very much, and it really doesn't have much to do with patience of perseverance. It's a shot in the dark, a hope to long for. And I'll find out if it comes true soon. I cleaned my room yesterday in an effort to distract myself; there's something relaxing about being in the mood to clean, sort, and explore the treasures lying hidden in your space. I have three book shelves in my room, with the middle one being a tad bit shorter than the other two. On it I have my Apollo bust and a bunch of very tiny books that can't fit on a normal shelf. There, while dusting, I rediscovered the tiny book called Wishing: Shooting Stars, Four-Leaf Clovers, and Other Wonders to Wish Upon compiled by Gloria T. Delamar.

I'm not surprised to find this little book again. While, at the ripe age of twenty-two (almost twenty-three!), I still feel adventuresome when I try a new flavor of potato chips or go on a new theme park ride. However, there are things I love that I think I'll always continue to love. I guess wishing has always fascinated me. Who hasn't wished? Like any other kid, I used to think of what I would wish for if I stumbled upon Genie's lamp. But lamps are rare treasures to find. They're buried in caves or under the land at the bottom of the sea. Genies don't want to be found; they're rather lazy and quite content to spend eternity lounging on plush pillows and watching the travel channel. So how do normal people wish? Well, my book tells me that you can just about wish on anything - but there are rules. And they're rather intriguing. So for this post, I'd thought I'd share some of my favorites from the book:

Acorn

"If an acorn falls while you're standing under an oak tree, pick it up, turn it around three times, and make a wish. To make the acorn's magic stronger, place it in a windowsill for three days."

Lightning Bug

"If you catch a lightning bug (also called a firefly or glowworm), place it on the back of your ring finger, as though it were a ring, and wish for a jewel. If the bug glows, you'll get your wish; if it flies away before glowing, you won't."

White Rabbit Night

"'White rabbit night' - the last night of a month - happens twelve times a year. If you say 'white rabbit' three times - sometime after midnight, and before you speak to anyone - you may make a wish for good luck for that month."

Train

"If you're passing under a trestle just as a train goes overhead, make a wish."

Interesting, eh? There's quite a bit of them in this book and it's nice to see that every culture has some kind of wishing tip or trick. But I'm always wondering: why is that we feel the need to wish on something? Perhaps it is because we really do believe that inanimate objects or concepts have power of their own. Maybe a fallen leaf can carry our wishes higher than the words that echo in our heads. What do you think?

The rest of my afternoon will be full of busy work, a lot of thinking, and indulging in some sweets. I confess I haven't made a wish on anything yet. I can't decide if I want to, even if such little folk tales and tips are fun to read about. I might keep my wish inside myself and keep it warm. Maybe, each time I realize it, it'll burn hotter than the summer air.

Photo from Tumblr

The Traveling Dreamer

I often tear up when I see things that are overly whimsical. I can't explain it exactly, but it must have something to do with the ideas of imagination blending with and distorting the real world to create something wholly beautiful and nostalgic. It's harder to do this, I think, than bending reality for a new horror film.

I seem to have a penchant for commercials (Refer to my Mr. Peanut post) and so I admit with no shame that, yes, a mere commercial sparked this sense of wonder within me. Again.

Why commercials? I have a theory. Commericals = flash fiction. Do you see it? They share the same power. Both are short on time. Both can leave an imprint. Either you can flash a bunch of numbers and facts with a plainly dressed woman with white teeth or... you can take the opportunity to hit your viewers hard. Create not just a good ad, but an unforgettable story; something that still lives inside the viewers mind long after the program comes back on.

The commercial this time is for the Kia Optima 2011. Now, I usually hate car commercials. I'm not impressed with grinning families piling into shiny cars. I yawn when the sleek racers traverse various terrains. But this is no average car commerical. Here's a bar of screenshots:

A train full of animal-headed gentlemen and a pretty girl? Ooooo. Here's the commercial in its entirety:


Cool, right? I'm in love (of course I am - did you see the diorama?).

It's nostalgia alright. A pure dose of it. But after my head stopped spinning, I noticed that there was something familiar about it. Boy is in his room, ready to fall asleep, and then he goes soring off somewhere in his bed. Hm. Okay. Just like the animated movie, Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland (1989).

Originally a comic by Winsor McCay, Little Nemo became one of those classic videos that was a staple for little kids growing up. No matter how it made it into your VHS collection, it was there. I think we have to thank it for a lot of things. Sparking creativity? Number 1. If you haven't seen it yet, here's a nice clip to give you a feel for it (and prolly the main plot):


So what is with this image of the sleeping child going on a moving journey through odd, magical worlds? It's become a symbol. I believe it represents hope because we still have the ability to dream. The most important part is to never forget. So even as the kid in the Kia commercial becomes a grown-up in a fancy car and Nemo wakes up after his final adventure in Slumberland, we still leave both worlds with the strong sense that they won't forget what happened in their dreams. What do you think?

I'm Watching You, Little German Village

Today is Thanksgiving Day. I hope everyone out there has had a great one. As for me, there isn't much family left here, so I spent most of the day at the Magic Kingdom, and then came home to some delicious leftovers and watched alien shows on the History channel all evening (not my idea, I swear).

Although I had a super time at the Magic Kingdom, my thoughts strayed to my favorite park, Epcot, this evening.

There are many reasons why I love Epcot, but the one I am determined to write about goes way back. In fact, I always vowed that if I ever started a blog, I would post about this one thing frequently. What is it? Well, the little train village in Germany.

The village is a mini-scale model of a vast village, complete with a town square, a castle in the bushy background, and many, many trains. The figurines intrigue me the most and I'm always leaning over the bars, wondering about the little guys and what stories they have. I think I stare so ardently that tourists mistake me for some train fanatic. Truth be told, again, it's not the trains that impress me.

I've taken loads of pictures of the village over the years. I have a fairly good idea where most of the figurines are and what they've been up to. So when I went back this fall, after not having gone for at least a few weeks (yeah, it was a killer to wait so long), I saw a change.

Observe.

On the corner of the display is a church. A wedding has always occurred. Here's picture of it from 2009:

What a joyous wedding it is! There are plenty of figurines gathered to witness the moment. A lot of them are wearing hats. I think it's because of the Florida weather. I don't know what's it's like in Germany, but if those folks are supposed to stand outside for another couple years, they are going to need to those hats. We only get a few good weeks of cold. The rest is like sitting in an oven. Or a kiln, I guess, since we're outside. This state considers us no better than a bunch of soggy ceramic pieces (I'd be a nail-printed bowl). Only when we pass out on the ground is it alright to send a merciful breeze through. The bride and groom are lucky enough to be standing under the shade of the church. The groom poses proudly; he looks like he has no trouble holding up his bride. And the bride - well, she looks content. Not happy. No, this is a much deeper feeling. See how her arms are legs are relaxed? She's not stretching in his arms, getting ready to throw a bouquet. She's not fist-pumping like she just scored a touchdown. No. She looks serene.

There are a lot of other figurines around the church that are just as intriguing, such as the lonely man on the bench below the church steps. Is he the uninvited guest? A mere passerby? I mused about him a lot. There's also the hunter and the deer, both balanced on mountains separated by the church. The deer is always on its side. Has it been shot, or is it just an accident of the wind? (I promise I'll post pictures of them eventually).

The family and I got into the habit of walking up the Canada side of the World Showcase, so the wedding would always be the first group of figurines I'd see when we got to Germany. I didn't worry about them. I was thinking about the deer.

So I graduate from college. I know that graduation always brings about change, but I never expected to see a change in the German village. It had been the same for so long.

And now? Well, look what's happened:

The church is barren. A leaf from the tall trees above has floated down to rest of the door of the church (not planned). The only figurine near the the building is a lone nun. She sits solemnly with her hands folded. She's holding the Bible. If she had a face, I wonder what her expression would be? Maybe she knows what happened to the newlyweds. For some reason, I don't feel like it's happy. There's a quiet eeriness there.

You know, something interesting happened while I was searching my desktop for all these pictures. I zoomed in very close to get the close ups of the figurines and, in the process, made a discovery that adds to the mystery. In the new picture, with the nun, there is a figurine standing on a bottom step. I noticed, much to my surprise, that he is the same figure that is standing in the front in the wedding photo - he has his arms up like he's looking a long distance and he wears a red jacket. Here he is in the new one:

Scroll up the wedding picture if you don't believe me.

There's a story here, no doubt. Perhaps the man has a relationship with the nun. If so, he could be admiring her from afar, wishing she would give up her vows so that they could run off together. Maybe he knows that she knows something about the wedding, and he is going to interrogate her. What do you think?

I'd like to meet whoever is in charge of this model village. I really would. To me, this type of storyteller is special. Everything is laid out before you like a silent film with missing dialogue. Whoever is willing to take the time to examine such a complex creation will, indeed, find a story waiting to be told.