SerenityMovie.net

[Lushy]

[Gilove2dance]

My serenity would have to be contemporary dance. As my username suggests, I love to dance. To do a good strong contemporary combo in my dance class and just let everything go, all emotions, thoughts and everything and just dance is serenity. Mmmm, it feels bloody amazing! I love it.

Lindsay
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Shiny...Let's be bad guys!

[TageRyche]

[fuchsiarascal]

My Serenity is my cats. Well, it's no surprise that one of them is actually named Serenity, but that's besides the point. I currently have four resident cats: Avocado, Ginny, Serenity, and Ender, and I also foster many more for my rescue group. No matter what happens during the day, it's always reinvigorating to come home to them. They know when I've had a bad day and just curl up with me (Ender, by the way, loves to watch Firefly with me), but when I've had a good day they're off playing and making me smile even more. Like Mal's Serenity, however, they don't come without problems. They're all rescues from abuse and abandonment, so they have many issues that we're still working on. Some days I feel like Mal in "Out of Gas" trying to just hold everything together, but other days everything's flying fine and we've got enough money to just keep going. It's not much, but it's enough. As long as my cats are here with me, I can face anything.

Fuchsia

[mithwen]

My Serenity is a place in Carinthia in the southern part of Austria. I've been going there every summer (and sometimes in winter) for as long as I can remember and even before that (there exists an old video on VHS where I am 3 years old and playing in the snow with my oldest friend). Over the years we have been in three different houses, but they were all in the same area and I have always spent at least a few weeks of my summer there.
The first house was on a really small mountain next to a small farm (we still go see the farmers every time we are there), the second one was in the woods and for about 12 or 13 years now we have a very small hut at the edge of a moor.



The house is over 300 years old and it used to be an inn where a legendary robber used to hide. He was what you could call the Carinthian Robin Hood, stealing from the rich (mostly woolen underwear, brandy and candles) and giving to the poor. The house is still pretty much in the same condition as it was back then: No electricity, no gas. We cook on a wood stove and get water from a little spring in front of the house. And if you need to go to the toilet you have to walk across the meadow to find the privy. You learn a lot of useful things when living in this house: making fire, making wood and not to forget to take the toilet paper with you when you have to relieve yourself.



As I already said, the hut is on the edge of a beautiful moor, where cows and horses graze together peacfully. From time to time you can even see a buzzard or a deer and at night you can hear owls and see small bats circling our roof. But the greates sight of all is when there is a full moon out and you can see the fog creeping up from the actual moor towards our house and just when it starts to get a bit scary, suddenly the fog parts and you see three white horses and a dark one cantering silently towards you. It's so beautiful it makes you want to weep...



I've been walking the woods, the mountains and the moor for almost two decades now (me being 20 years old) and it never gets boring. I can sit somewhere and look at the trees or read a book for hours. Or write silly little stories and movie scripts - they're really not good, but I don't care, I don't plan to make a living from wirting fiction anyway. The landscape is just so beautiful and magic, you can't escape its charm. You can find almost every place from every fantasy book you've ever read there, be it the Dead Marshes from the Lord Of The Rings or the Forbidden Forrest from Harry Potter or anything else you can think of provided the story isn't set in a city, a desert or space.



When I go back there, it feels like coming home. I belong there more than I belong to my real home 300 kilometers to the east. I know every path and every brook near our hut and yet I find new places and new ways every time I take a walk. I've seen some of the horses grow from small brown balls of fur to big white stallions and I have seen pastures change owners. I have walked woods, that aren't there anymore, and found new glades for my tent to pitch where once trees dug their roots deep into the moist ground. When I go back there, I feel young and carefree, but I also feel old and calm at the same time. That's why this place is my Serenity. Even if we should one day have to give up our small hut on the edge of the moor, I'll always have that and nothing will keep me from returning there, even if it is only for a few days...


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That'll put marzipan on your pie plate, bingo!

[Lemming]

[Steven Owens posted this to our Feedback account, so I'm putting it here. Few more of these and we should be able to run another WYS segment. Nick.]

WHAT’S YOUR SERENITY


My serenity is JOEY.

JOEY is a fisher price doll I got for my 2nd Christmas.
JOEY has the hard plastic face and soft stuffed body indicative of dolls from that era.
He has sneaker laces you can tie, and a removable letterman jacket with F/P on the breast.
He has ‘real’ plastic strand hair that you can brush.

Other than the minimal haircut I gave him some years ago, he looks fantastic.
He also has some dirt on his face that won’t come off after several struggles to do so; but he doesn’t look half of his 32 years.

JOEY was my friend.
My parents divorced when I was 6-ish. We moved around a lot, from mom to dad, and back , and back, and back.
During my elementary years K-2nd , I attended approximately 8 schools.
I was never at a school long enough to make friends, and after the first few schools; I stopped trying to.
JOEY was my friend. Could talk to him, and if I put my hand up the back of his jacket, I could move his arms with my thumb and little fingers, and nod his head up and down with the other fingers. I even learned how to ventriloquist him (poorly I am sure), so he could talk back to me.

Basically when no one else was there for me, through those really rough years, JOEY was. He was always there for me and I honestly don’t know if I would have made it without him. He was my rock, my friend, my therapist, and my security blanket. In short he was my SERENITY.

I still have JOEY after all these years, and all these moves, and all these marriages.
He is now resting comfortably in a place of honor on a shelf at the top of my staircase in my beautiful home. He is the first thing I see when I climb the stairs, and every time I see him, I remember his help on my journey. He helped me climb out of childhood depression, and helped me deal with issues of self confidence. When I look at him in his cherished place of honor, I am reminded that though the trip was long and tough at times, it has brought me here, where I am. And I am M-I-L-E-S above where I was. I think the TOP of the stairs is a very appropriate place for him to be.

JOEY IS MY SERENITY

Thank you for allowing me the chance to tell that story, I have always treated him as such, but I never wrote or told about it before.
So, thank you.

--steve owens
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[Capella]

My Serenity is the house I live in and the people I share it with. We call it the "Fabrik" which is German for factory, for the simple reason that a small factory was located here in earlier times. The house was built before World War II, we don't know the exact date, but it must have been in the 1920s. The family who built the house had a small company which produced buckets and other tinned items and the house combined living space, offices and production space under one roof. Some additional buildings and production halls were added which have been torn down over the past decade or so, but the main building, a dark and slightly shabby looking brick structure, still stands.

When the company closed down, the city bought the house and land from the former owners and rented it out to tennants. One of those was a Christian student organization, looking for cheap living space for its students. They founded one of the first house sharing communities in Muenster, my home town. Three of my housemates today moved in around that time, in the late seventies. The organization closed down, but the people stayed, now renting the house directly from the city. So for more than thirty years now, this house has been inhabited by a diverse and everchanging group of people.

Today there is seven of us living here together. The three 'oldies' I mentioned already, who all celebrated their fiftieth birthday in the past two years, a student couple in the late twenties, an ex-monk who just left his abbey and me. I am 38 years old, so I stand right in the middle, agewise. I moved in about two years ago. We don't have a common political agenda, but I guess you could say that we agree mostly on the green, leftwing, liberal side of things. Hippiesque, if you want. Each of us has one or two rooms for his or her own (I have two) and we share two kitchens, two bathrooms, a garden and other stuff like a laundry room, a workshop, storage space etc. Since the house is old and located outside of the city, the rent is very low and sharing stuff makes it very affordable.

I used to live in a quite fancy city apartment on my own. One day I read a classified ad that there were two rooms available in the factory. I had not thought about moving before that at all. But something in the ad attracted me and I called and went to visit on the very same day. I immediatly fell in love with the place and its inhabitants. After showing me the rooms, we all settled in the downstairs kitchen around the huge round table and talked for almost two hours. The downstais kitchen is a lot like the mess of the Serenity. There were other candidates for the rooms, though, and I did not want to get my hopes up. About a week later I got a call that I could move in if I wanted to and I said 'yes' without giving it a moment's thought. I haven't regretted it once.

My parents hate the place, by the way. They visited me just once and compared it to 'the third world' as they put it. They lack the ability (or the desire) to see further than the cracked floorboards, broken tiles and torn wallpapers. I see a house with a soul, a history. It has its quirks, there is no denying that. The electrical wiring is ... well ... let's call it experimental and after a minor earthquake a few years back large cracks appeared in the brickwalls which are a bit alarming. And the basement ... someone put a motto sticker on our staircase that says: "If you don't behave, you get locked in the basement". If you knew our basement, that's a serious threat. Should I ever want to produce a movie about monsters the New York sewer system, I'd shoot it in the basement. It's that scary. Actually, there are doors in the house I didn't dare to open yet for fear of what lurks in the dark. And still, it all adds to the atmosphere of this place. All the people who lived here over the years have left something behind. Sometimes real material items like paintings (the place always attracted artists, it seems), sometimes just a certain vibe or a rule still in place.

Rules. We have very little of those, just what you absolutely need when you have seven people in a house. We do have a kind of cleaning schedule for the kitchens and bathrooms. Sometimes we haggle about minor stuff like 'What temperature should the fridge have?' or 'How many bicycles is one person allowed to store in the hallway?' and from time to time we go into crisis mode and start communicating by leaving notes on the kitchen table, but all in all we are quite good at sorting things out.

We are not a commune. Each of us has his or her own life, own circle of friends, four of us are currently in relationsships with partners outside the factory. Sometimes we cook together, more often, someone cooks and offers the leftovers for grabbing, sometimes we spontaneously all end up in the kitchen or the garden and get drunk, but it also happens that I don't see any of my housemates for a few days. Some of the former occupants of the house still come by and they are still considered part of the crew. It's a wonderful open and relaxed environment, but there is a sense of family there as well. I am really glad I found this place. I found my Serenity here.

[mithwen]

Wow, Capella, that sounds like a really cool place to live - lucky you Would you maybe feel like sharing a pic of the Fabrik - just an exterior view, it doesn't have to be anything personal. I'd just really like to know what the house looks like.
Hugs, mithwen
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That'll put marzipan on your pie plate, bingo!

[Capella]

[mithwen]

That looks really great. I'd love to live in a house like that. I love brick walls and old factories and the veranda looks lovely. Aww I think I'm gonna dream of this now
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That'll put marzipan on your pie plate, bingo!