Some things you just can't control.
Like the fact that at 1:30 AM last night I lay awake listening to Celine Dion and reading Sylvia Plath poems, after watching a classic love story (Frankie and Johnny), and ingesting copious amounts of Christmas chocolate.
What did I learn from this experience?
Al Pacino has fantastic hair.
Ferrero Rochers heal sorrow.
Love Can Move Mountains.
Dying is an art, and Sylvia Plath makes me want to write poetry again.
Do you know how long it's been since I wrote poems?
A long time.
I used to write them all the time, but then I got distracted by writing song lyrics... And reflections.... long-winded episodes of prose, which turned into the inevitable short story, which turned into the inescapable novel.
Along the way, poems were forgotten. I'm still not sure I could just pick them up again. Poems are hard.
Another thing I learned about myself last night was that I have the strong likelihood to end up alone. I mean really. Shortly after I finished re-reading Lady Lazarus for the fourth time, I looked up and saw my life as though I wasn't living it. I saw it from someone else's point of view.
I looked very unapproachable.
I would love to end up with an intellectual, someone I can talk with about books and literature, music and art.... But any man who has the intellect to know Sylvia Plath would turn on the spot and run screaming in the other direction.
Unfortunate, isn't it?
On another note, I wrote a new song yesterday, which I was really excited about becasue I haven't been so musically inspired in a long time.
I dreamed about Titanic last night. Leonardo DiCaprio's deadened, drowning face floated across my subconscious and I felt like I was holding onto his icy hands, instead of Kate Winslet. I'm pretty sure I rolled over, and then started dreaming about being late for work. My boss was wearing a wig, and one of those gross Louis XVI fake moles.
Moral of the story: no more chocolate before bed.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
"So this is Christmas..."
December 23rd. 2 days until Christmas.
4:14 PM. The sky is gradually beginning to darken, my room is aglow with the half-light of day and the bright flame of several burning candles. One of the candles has a wooden wick, and makes a most delightful crackling noise, melting gloriously with the soft blues guitar riffs of Chris Isaak and John Mayer playing from my iPod speaker.
All around, life is buzzing. Thoughts, memories, occurances from past Christmases are swirling around in my head, and I can't help but wish strongly that it was snowing outside. I've gotten almost all my presents wrapped, stockings are done, cinnamon rolls are half-made for Christmas morning, and the traditions of Christmases gone by and Christmases to come are rolling in and out of my mind like the tide.
I think of when I was much, much younger, and how every year the lighting of the Christmas lights outside the house was a big to-do. There was always music playing outdoors while Bryon (my not-yet-then-brother-in-law) scampered dangerously along the roofline, stringing lights. Johnny Mathis' Christmas was crooning, mom was inside brewing hot cocoa, dad was running to and from exchanging ladders, and my sisters and I stood outside in our pajamas, laughing, watching, and half-listening for any sign of Bryon slipping and falling. Then, after what seemed like hours, and what probably was hours, Bryon would call out and suddenly the entire house would alight at once. Beautiful white icicle lights hanging from every gable and gutter, and strung gloriously around the rails of the wraparound porch.
I think of how there was a rather long period of time during every Christmas season, we would drive to Tower Records when it was still in business and buy 100 dollars worth of new music. Our blessed Christmas bonus. :)
Those were the best days.
I remember countless times of visiting the Grotto, and saying a prayer before the lifesize Nativity Scene.
I remember Christmas Eves spent at my grandmother's, and then finished at home as we each got to pick one present to unwrap before bed.
Christmas mornings rise up in my mind with memories of waking up astoundingly early, even though I didn't dream of opening my stocking without my sisters. Gathered in the living room with milk and cinnamon rolls, the stocking opening would commence. The best part of Christmas, altogether.
Then we'd move to the family room, where the tree and the rest of the presents were- after breakfast of course.
I remember what seems like hundreds of times rolling out, cutting out, and decorating gingerbread cookies with my family. One year, my sisters and I decorated an entire beach scene. There was an ocean, a shade tent, several gingerbread men and women in swimtrunks and bikinis, a sea turtle, and a sun. The picture of it is hanging on my bedroom wall. I must have been only 9. It's one of the greatest pictures of the three of us girls we have. Memories. :)
Not to mention the many viewings of White Christmas with my sisters. One tradition that will be carried on in my life eternally. Alone or not.
I'm dreaming of Christmases to come, and new traditions I'd like to make.
My friend Natalie Knight and I went to Peacock Lane this year. It was beautiful, and I think we should start doing it every year together.
As I plan on living near the ocean for the rest of my life, and possessing a lifelong dream of surfing, I want to be that crazy individual who goes for a Christmas morning surf no matter how cold it is. I would especially like to start this tradition in Ireland.
A few nights ago, I came across a beautiful Irish tradition that I plan on starting tomorrow night. Every Christmas Eve, it is traditional to light a candle in the window, to help guide Mary in her search for a place of refuge to give birth to Jesus.
This year I also started a tradition with Becca of watching the Celtic Thunder Christmas dvd and getting so much love and laughter out of it.
I'm so excited to embark on my life and future with new and old traditions and people as well.
I can't believe Christmas is here already.
Tomorrow morning, Family coffee date.
Tomorrow afternoon, writing with Raelyn.
Tomorrow evening, work.
After work, candle lighting, and watching The Nativity with mom and dad.
And then waking up on Christmas morning, to fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee. Eggs in purgatory (Poached eggs in marinara with italian sausage and rosemary toast), stockings, and presents, and spending the rest of the day celebrating Christ's birth with my beloved family.
And so, this is Christmas.
Happy Holidays. :)
4:14 PM. The sky is gradually beginning to darken, my room is aglow with the half-light of day and the bright flame of several burning candles. One of the candles has a wooden wick, and makes a most delightful crackling noise, melting gloriously with the soft blues guitar riffs of Chris Isaak and John Mayer playing from my iPod speaker.
All around, life is buzzing. Thoughts, memories, occurances from past Christmases are swirling around in my head, and I can't help but wish strongly that it was snowing outside. I've gotten almost all my presents wrapped, stockings are done, cinnamon rolls are half-made for Christmas morning, and the traditions of Christmases gone by and Christmases to come are rolling in and out of my mind like the tide.
I think of when I was much, much younger, and how every year the lighting of the Christmas lights outside the house was a big to-do. There was always music playing outdoors while Bryon (my not-yet-then-brother-in-law) scampered dangerously along the roofline, stringing lights. Johnny Mathis' Christmas was crooning, mom was inside brewing hot cocoa, dad was running to and from exchanging ladders, and my sisters and I stood outside in our pajamas, laughing, watching, and half-listening for any sign of Bryon slipping and falling. Then, after what seemed like hours, and what probably was hours, Bryon would call out and suddenly the entire house would alight at once. Beautiful white icicle lights hanging from every gable and gutter, and strung gloriously around the rails of the wraparound porch.
I think of how there was a rather long period of time during every Christmas season, we would drive to Tower Records when it was still in business and buy 100 dollars worth of new music. Our blessed Christmas bonus. :)
Those were the best days.
I remember countless times of visiting the Grotto, and saying a prayer before the lifesize Nativity Scene.
I remember Christmas Eves spent at my grandmother's, and then finished at home as we each got to pick one present to unwrap before bed.
Christmas mornings rise up in my mind with memories of waking up astoundingly early, even though I didn't dream of opening my stocking without my sisters. Gathered in the living room with milk and cinnamon rolls, the stocking opening would commence. The best part of Christmas, altogether.
Then we'd move to the family room, where the tree and the rest of the presents were- after breakfast of course.
I remember what seems like hundreds of times rolling out, cutting out, and decorating gingerbread cookies with my family. One year, my sisters and I decorated an entire beach scene. There was an ocean, a shade tent, several gingerbread men and women in swimtrunks and bikinis, a sea turtle, and a sun. The picture of it is hanging on my bedroom wall. I must have been only 9. It's one of the greatest pictures of the three of us girls we have. Memories. :)
Not to mention the many viewings of White Christmas with my sisters. One tradition that will be carried on in my life eternally. Alone or not.
I'm dreaming of Christmases to come, and new traditions I'd like to make.
My friend Natalie Knight and I went to Peacock Lane this year. It was beautiful, and I think we should start doing it every year together.
As I plan on living near the ocean for the rest of my life, and possessing a lifelong dream of surfing, I want to be that crazy individual who goes for a Christmas morning surf no matter how cold it is. I would especially like to start this tradition in Ireland.
A few nights ago, I came across a beautiful Irish tradition that I plan on starting tomorrow night. Every Christmas Eve, it is traditional to light a candle in the window, to help guide Mary in her search for a place of refuge to give birth to Jesus.
This year I also started a tradition with Becca of watching the Celtic Thunder Christmas dvd and getting so much love and laughter out of it.
I'm so excited to embark on my life and future with new and old traditions and people as well.
I can't believe Christmas is here already.
Tomorrow morning, Family coffee date.
Tomorrow afternoon, writing with Raelyn.
Tomorrow evening, work.
After work, candle lighting, and watching The Nativity with mom and dad.
And then waking up on Christmas morning, to fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee. Eggs in purgatory (Poached eggs in marinara with italian sausage and rosemary toast), stockings, and presents, and spending the rest of the day celebrating Christ's birth with my beloved family.
And so, this is Christmas.
Happy Holidays. :)
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Dear Ringo
Dear Ringo Starr,
You are perfect.
Your face is without a doubt the most endearing face in all of history.
Your picture on my bookshelf, of you smiling and drumming, wearing your signature gawdy bracelets, inspires me to no end.
I've been sitting here at my desk for almost three hours now, editing, writing, reading, reflecting. Every few minutes I look up to see your picture (which I've moved from it's place on the bookshelf to right beside me at my desk... I hope you don't mind), and your smiling face is laughing back at me. I think you're telling me to write about you.
I wouldn't put it past you.
Dear Ringo,
I want to name one of my sons after you, if I should be so fortunate as to have them. Atticus Ringo. I think it has a lovely sound to it.
You are so underestimated as a Beatle, and I can't tell you how much it bothers me that people think of you only as the funny-looking one with the big nose.
Your nose is a fine size. People should worry about their own noses.
Dear Ringo,
You might call me crazy, seeing as this would all be much less creepy if you were actually dead, which you're not, which kind of makes me really unfortunate and worrisome, but I can't help feel that if you were young and available right now we would be together.
But you're old and rather short, and have a very fuzzy head, and I can't say I'd ever want to be with a Richard, and you never take those sunglasses off anyways, so I've decided it's better that you're not young and single. Besides, I would probably try to get you to take off the gawdy jewelry, even though secretly, deep down, I love it.
Your smile wins oceans, Ringo.
I'm not exactly sure what that statement means, but when I figure it out, I'll be sure to let you know first.
Dear Ringo,
Octopus' Garden makes me happier than almost any other song, except for Hey Jude. I'm sorry, but my love for Hey Jude outshines even my love for you, dear one. Forgive me.
I also appreciate that you are more-than-slightly dim-witted. I appreciate that the song title "A Hard Day's Night" was birthed by one of your quintessential, and insanely lovable word misshaps.
As I stated earlier, you are perfect, Ringo.
Perfect to me.
Although, you really should stop smoking. And stop trying to smell the roses, that whole entourage of cheesy songs and solo failures really wounded your credability.
But I still love you.
And so, Dear Ringo,
Here's to a lifetime of favorites, mutual understandings (.... I'm sure if you actually knew me, this whole thing really would be mutual), and endless inspirations.
Thanks for always being there.
You are perfect.
Your face is without a doubt the most endearing face in all of history.
Your picture on my bookshelf, of you smiling and drumming, wearing your signature gawdy bracelets, inspires me to no end.
I've been sitting here at my desk for almost three hours now, editing, writing, reading, reflecting. Every few minutes I look up to see your picture (which I've moved from it's place on the bookshelf to right beside me at my desk... I hope you don't mind), and your smiling face is laughing back at me. I think you're telling me to write about you.
I wouldn't put it past you.
Dear Ringo,
I want to name one of my sons after you, if I should be so fortunate as to have them. Atticus Ringo. I think it has a lovely sound to it.
You are so underestimated as a Beatle, and I can't tell you how much it bothers me that people think of you only as the funny-looking one with the big nose.
Your nose is a fine size. People should worry about their own noses.
Dear Ringo,
You might call me crazy, seeing as this would all be much less creepy if you were actually dead, which you're not, which kind of makes me really unfortunate and worrisome, but I can't help feel that if you were young and available right now we would be together.
But you're old and rather short, and have a very fuzzy head, and I can't say I'd ever want to be with a Richard, and you never take those sunglasses off anyways, so I've decided it's better that you're not young and single. Besides, I would probably try to get you to take off the gawdy jewelry, even though secretly, deep down, I love it.
Your smile wins oceans, Ringo.
I'm not exactly sure what that statement means, but when I figure it out, I'll be sure to let you know first.
Dear Ringo,
Octopus' Garden makes me happier than almost any other song, except for Hey Jude. I'm sorry, but my love for Hey Jude outshines even my love for you, dear one. Forgive me.
I also appreciate that you are more-than-slightly dim-witted. I appreciate that the song title "A Hard Day's Night" was birthed by one of your quintessential, and insanely lovable word misshaps.
As I stated earlier, you are perfect, Ringo.
Perfect to me.
Although, you really should stop smoking. And stop trying to smell the roses, that whole entourage of cheesy songs and solo failures really wounded your credability.
But I still love you.
And so, Dear Ringo,
Here's to a lifetime of favorites, mutual understandings (.... I'm sure if you actually knew me, this whole thing really would be mutual), and endless inspirations.
Thanks for always being there.
"What Fills the Eyes Fills the Heart"
All around me I see things, marvelous things. I see the framed picture of my best friend and I sitting on my desk. We snapped that picture on a walk we took in the countryside of Washington in early October. I see a three-wick candle burning on my right side, it smells of sweet cinnamon pumpkin. The flames illuminate my room in a cascading warmth, glowing wildly and weightlessly, making shadows dance on my wall. I see snapshots of my life all around. I see my most beloved guitar, and the large picture book of Ireland I bought a few weeks ago to my left.
My mind's eye sees faces, so many faces. Faces I know well and love dearly, and faces I've never met, but still love with more than all of my heart. My mind's eye is full of wonder, and happiness, joy and contentment. I see the way life moves. I feel its pulse throbbing at the center of my heart. I see the ebb and the flow of a thousand tides of inspiration overwhelming my subconscious. I see the moonshine in my heart. I feel the magic of a hundred tales of fairy lore tingling in my bones, and the miracle of timeless legend envelops my mind as I lazily, hazily reflect on myth and memories.
I hinge my subconscious mind to my writing arm. I go boldly in the direction of my inspiration, for new experience. What fills the eye fills the heart, and my heart is full with the things I have seen with my eyes, and things that I have seen with my mind.
The mind is unbridled.
It knows no bounds. And by using it ever so carefully, I can fill my heart with what I truly desire, even if it just means learning to look through my mind's eye. Seeing isn't believing. People believe in angels even when the lights are turned off. Believing is seeing how your life has changed because of what you believe in. And if you believe you can achieve something with your entire mind, you can gradually turn your heart in the same direction. And when your heart and mind are aligned, your soul shines, and its light leads you confidently in the direction of your dreams.
Illuminate!
Glow. Shine. Dazzle.
Brilliance yourself.
Set the world ablaze.
You are unlimited.
Open your eyes.
Start now.
My mind's eye sees faces, so many faces. Faces I know well and love dearly, and faces I've never met, but still love with more than all of my heart. My mind's eye is full of wonder, and happiness, joy and contentment. I see the way life moves. I feel its pulse throbbing at the center of my heart. I see the ebb and the flow of a thousand tides of inspiration overwhelming my subconscious. I see the moonshine in my heart. I feel the magic of a hundred tales of fairy lore tingling in my bones, and the miracle of timeless legend envelops my mind as I lazily, hazily reflect on myth and memories.
I hinge my subconscious mind to my writing arm. I go boldly in the direction of my inspiration, for new experience. What fills the eye fills the heart, and my heart is full with the things I have seen with my eyes, and things that I have seen with my mind.
The mind is unbridled.
It knows no bounds. And by using it ever so carefully, I can fill my heart with what I truly desire, even if it just means learning to look through my mind's eye. Seeing isn't believing. People believe in angels even when the lights are turned off. Believing is seeing how your life has changed because of what you believe in. And if you believe you can achieve something with your entire mind, you can gradually turn your heart in the same direction. And when your heart and mind are aligned, your soul shines, and its light leads you confidently in the direction of your dreams.
Illuminate!
Glow. Shine. Dazzle.
Brilliance yourself.
Set the world ablaze.
You are unlimited.
Open your eyes.
Start now.
Friday, December 17, 2010
My Loves, My Doves, My Eggs
My room is freezing.
I sleep with my windows open, even during the winter, because I love the feeling of being completely snuggled up in warm blankets while the surrounding room is icicle temperature and would probably freeze an appendage off, should it venture forth from the safety of the covers.
My windows have been open all day, and it's not exactly a heatwave time of year out there.
I came home from work and started shivering.
I'm currently sitting on my bed, with a pair of leggings on underneath my pajama bottoms which are tucked into my sheepskin shearling boots, with a long sleeve shirt underneath a knit sweater-wrap which is topped by my warm, cream colored scarf, and my fuzzy, heat-capturing throw blanket wrapped around my legs.
Toasty.
My iTunes is playing a very comforting mix of The Avett Brothers, Paolo Nutini, and the smooth, soulful pop music of a recently discovered artist: Neil Byrne, and my mind is tripping with the buzz of another day gone by.
Becca was here for a week. She left this afternoon, I miss my dear soul sister already.
We had a very beautiful week together. We went for many walks and bikerides, watched several movies, talked avidly, dreamed constantly, and ate a lot of delicious food. Everytime I spend days at a time with her, I realize how much I love her, and I can't wait for the day when we move in together. Being roomies with Becca is something I am incredibly excited for. And for stealing my favorite pair of jeans ever, which sadly belong to her, as often as I possibly can. Hurrah!
I also had a beautiful date with Natalie this week, in honor of my birthday.
We went to a late lunch at an incredibly authentic Irish pub and restaurant, spent an hour perusing Powell's (and I bought more books. You would not believe how many books I've bought in the past month.), and went for a beautiful walk down a closed neighborhood street called Peacock Lane, where every single house is decorated in hundreds of Christmas lights.
I love Christmas.
I also love quotes.
And I found some really super fabulous ones last night that I must share.
"Go into the world and do well. But more importantly, go into the world and do good." -Minor Myers, Jr.
"I beg you... to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without ever noticing it, live your way into the answer."- Rainer Maria Pilke
"Every moment of light and dark is a miracle."- Walt Whitman
"We do not remember days... We remember moments." -Cesaro Pavoso
"Barn's burnt down.... Now I can see the moon."
"Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."- Unknown
"A human being should be able to change diaper. Plan an invasion. Butcher a hog. Steer a ship. Design a building. Write a sonnet. Balance accounts. Build a wall. Set a bone. Comfort the dying. Take orders. Give orders. Cooperate. Act alone. Solve equations. Analyze a new problem. Pitch manure. Program a computer. Cook a tasty meal. Fight efficiently. Die gallantly."- Robert Heimlein
"Live in the present. Launch yourselv on every wave. Find eternity in each moment." -Henry David Thoreau
"Always make new mistakes."- Esther Dyson
"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart. To handle yourself, use your head. To handle others, use your heart. Anger is only one letter short of danger. If someone betrays you once, it is his fault. If he betrays you twice, it is your fault. Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people. He who loses money, loses much. He who loses a friend, loses much more. He who loses faith, loses all. Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art. Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself. There is no beginning or end. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift, that's why they call it the present."- Eleanor Roosevelt
"You are unrepeatable. There is a magic about you that is all your own." -D.M. Dellinger
"Find your purpose and fling your life out to it. Find a way or make one. Try with all your might. Self-made or never made."
"Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I've got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible." -G.B. Shaw
"Find life experiences and swallow them whole. Travel. Meet many people. Go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys. Try everything. Exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life." -Lawrence K. Fish
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."- Neale Donald Watson
"Young. Old. Just words." -George Burns
"May you always be blessed with walls for the wind. A roof for the rain. A warm cup of tea by the fire. Laughter to cheer you. Those you love near you. And all that your heart might desire."- Irish blessing.
"Fame is a vapor. Popularity an accident. Riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character."- Horace Greeley
"Avoid making irrevocable decisions while tired or hungry."- Robert Heinlein
"If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves."- Thomas Edison
"Worry is like a rocing chair. It will give you something to do, but it won't get you anywhere."
"Love is a cosmic phenomenon." -P.D. Ouspensky
"Good cooks never lack friends."
"Whatever women do, they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult."- Charlotte Whitton
"Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast."- Oscar Wilde
"1. The path is not straight.
2. Mistakes need not be fatal.
3. People are more important than achievements or possessions.
4. Be gentle with your parents.
5. Never stop doing what you care most about.
6. Learn to use a semicolon.
7. You will find love." -Marion Winik
"Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."-Max Ehrmann
"Break the monotony. Do something strange and extravagant!"- Emerson
"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us."- Emerson
"You are my very greatest earthly blessing."- Martha Finley
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirious of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."- Jack Kerouac
"Go forth and set the world on fire."- St. Ignatius
Merry Christmas...!
My loves,
my doves,
my eggs.
I sleep with my windows open, even during the winter, because I love the feeling of being completely snuggled up in warm blankets while the surrounding room is icicle temperature and would probably freeze an appendage off, should it venture forth from the safety of the covers.
My windows have been open all day, and it's not exactly a heatwave time of year out there.
I came home from work and started shivering.
I'm currently sitting on my bed, with a pair of leggings on underneath my pajama bottoms which are tucked into my sheepskin shearling boots, with a long sleeve shirt underneath a knit sweater-wrap which is topped by my warm, cream colored scarf, and my fuzzy, heat-capturing throw blanket wrapped around my legs.
Toasty.
My iTunes is playing a very comforting mix of The Avett Brothers, Paolo Nutini, and the smooth, soulful pop music of a recently discovered artist: Neil Byrne, and my mind is tripping with the buzz of another day gone by.
Becca was here for a week. She left this afternoon, I miss my dear soul sister already.
We had a very beautiful week together. We went for many walks and bikerides, watched several movies, talked avidly, dreamed constantly, and ate a lot of delicious food. Everytime I spend days at a time with her, I realize how much I love her, and I can't wait for the day when we move in together. Being roomies with Becca is something I am incredibly excited for. And for stealing my favorite pair of jeans ever, which sadly belong to her, as often as I possibly can. Hurrah!
I also had a beautiful date with Natalie this week, in honor of my birthday.
We went to a late lunch at an incredibly authentic Irish pub and restaurant, spent an hour perusing Powell's (and I bought more books. You would not believe how many books I've bought in the past month.), and went for a beautiful walk down a closed neighborhood street called Peacock Lane, where every single house is decorated in hundreds of Christmas lights.
I love Christmas.
I also love quotes.
And I found some really super fabulous ones last night that I must share.
"Go into the world and do well. But more importantly, go into the world and do good." -Minor Myers, Jr.
"I beg you... to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without ever noticing it, live your way into the answer."- Rainer Maria Pilke
"Every moment of light and dark is a miracle."- Walt Whitman
"We do not remember days... We remember moments." -Cesaro Pavoso
"Barn's burnt down.... Now I can see the moon."
"Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."- Unknown
"A human being should be able to change diaper. Plan an invasion. Butcher a hog. Steer a ship. Design a building. Write a sonnet. Balance accounts. Build a wall. Set a bone. Comfort the dying. Take orders. Give orders. Cooperate. Act alone. Solve equations. Analyze a new problem. Pitch manure. Program a computer. Cook a tasty meal. Fight efficiently. Die gallantly."- Robert Heimlein
"Live in the present. Launch yourselv on every wave. Find eternity in each moment." -Henry David Thoreau
"Always make new mistakes."- Esther Dyson
"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart. To handle yourself, use your head. To handle others, use your heart. Anger is only one letter short of danger. If someone betrays you once, it is his fault. If he betrays you twice, it is your fault. Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people. He who loses money, loses much. He who loses a friend, loses much more. He who loses faith, loses all. Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art. Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself. There is no beginning or end. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift, that's why they call it the present."- Eleanor Roosevelt
"You are unrepeatable. There is a magic about you that is all your own." -D.M. Dellinger
"Find your purpose and fling your life out to it. Find a way or make one. Try with all your might. Self-made or never made."
"Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I've got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible." -G.B. Shaw
"Find life experiences and swallow them whole. Travel. Meet many people. Go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys. Try everything. Exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life." -Lawrence K. Fish
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone."- Neale Donald Watson
"Young. Old. Just words." -George Burns
"May you always be blessed with walls for the wind. A roof for the rain. A warm cup of tea by the fire. Laughter to cheer you. Those you love near you. And all that your heart might desire."- Irish blessing.
"Fame is a vapor. Popularity an accident. Riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character."- Horace Greeley
"Avoid making irrevocable decisions while tired or hungry."- Robert Heinlein
"If we all did the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves."- Thomas Edison
"Worry is like a rocing chair. It will give you something to do, but it won't get you anywhere."
"Love is a cosmic phenomenon." -P.D. Ouspensky
"Good cooks never lack friends."
"Whatever women do, they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult."- Charlotte Whitton
"Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast."- Oscar Wilde
"1. The path is not straight.
2. Mistakes need not be fatal.
3. People are more important than achievements or possessions.
4. Be gentle with your parents.
5. Never stop doing what you care most about.
6. Learn to use a semicolon.
7. You will find love." -Marion Winik
"Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."-Max Ehrmann
"Break the monotony. Do something strange and extravagant!"- Emerson
"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us."- Emerson
"You are my very greatest earthly blessing."- Martha Finley
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirious of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."- Jack Kerouac
"Go forth and set the world on fire."- St. Ignatius
Merry Christmas...!
My loves,
my doves,
my eggs.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
That I Would Be Good
Finding out you were wrong about someone hurts a lot.
Finding out you were right about them all along hurts even more.
Discovering that every half-hearted second chance you gave them was thrown immediately away, proving that your intuitions and bad feelings are all that person can invoke from you, is exhausting.
Recovering from the hurt and the pain takes a long time. It feels like you've had the wind completely knocked out of you. And that feeling won't go away, no matter how much you try.
that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing
that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you
That I Would Be Good. Alanis Morissette.
Finding out you were right about them all along hurts even more.
Discovering that every half-hearted second chance you gave them was thrown immediately away, proving that your intuitions and bad feelings are all that person can invoke from you, is exhausting.
Recovering from the hurt and the pain takes a long time. It feels like you've had the wind completely knocked out of you. And that feeling won't go away, no matter how much you try.
that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing
that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you
That I Would Be Good. Alanis Morissette.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Keys
The story of Helen Keller will always be a dear inspiration to me. Always resting close to my heart, deep within the secret nooks and hiding places of my soul.
I remember reading a children's adaptation of her story when I was little. Even then, I could recognize it's incredible magic. I never imagined one day that the impact of her story would change my life, as I knew it, forever.
I remember the day I got the phonecall from Natalie, announcing a new challenge. A new opportunity, a new dream, a new and shining chance to change our own little bit of the world, a new reason to make a difference:
A 7 week production of The Miracle Worker. With Natalie as Helen, and myself being offered the role of Annie Sullivan. Somewhere deep within my heart, despite the fear and the knowledge of the impossibility, I felt something move and I knew there was no way I could say no. Somehow I felt the gravity of the situation, I knew we were about to embark on a road that would lead us to make our own history. And we did.
Being a method actor, you don't just act the part. You are the part. You reach down inside of yourself until you find that character inside of yourself, and then you bring her out and she envelops you.
For 7 weeks, I wasn't only acting Anne Sullivan. I was Anne Sullivan. She was my every action, thought, word, feeling. To this day, almost 2 fateful years later, I still feel her presence in me. She taught me how to take a stand.
She taught me to never give up if you truly believe in something. She taught me that no matter how small a dream, or how impossible, it can be achieved if you only set your mind to it.
She gave me passion, drive, fulfillment, thirst for life, and the knowledge to differentiate between what I know I can do and what people think I can do.
She gave me Ireland.
She gave me my life-long soulmates and closest friends.
She's given me new breath into life and a new fire to live with a purpose and to write without hesitation.
What haven't I learned from her??
She gave me Natalie.
The relationship between Helen and Annie is without a doubt one of the most beautiful and unique, special relationships in all of human understanding. Natalie and I shared each other's souls for 7 whole weeks, and now we know each other's hearts and feelings like no other. Natalie inspires me more than anyone. It's not just her life story, it's how she lives. How she chooses to live, how she writes. In the aspect of being a writer, she's the only person most like myself. We share the same true passion, and she really understands what moves me the most.
I like to think we have the special relationship we do because of what we went through in the 7 week period.
We both came out of it changed people, and you don't share an experience like that with someone without giving them a piece of your soul and taking a piece of theirs with you.
In the Keller home, Helen was given the keys to all the rooms in the house so that she could never lock herself in a room with no way of getting out. When Annie moved in, Helen locked her in her room and hid the key underneath the pump outside.
At the end of the story, or in this case, the play, Helen finds the key and returns to the house. She places the key directly in Annie's hand as a final sign of love and understanding.
Last night, Natalie threw me a small birthday dinner, and it was absolutely beautiful.
On the way home, she gave me her last gift and told me to open it. Hanging from the gift bag handle was an old-fashioned key hung on a thin red ribbon.
It was a small, simple gesture, but more significant than any gift I have ever received.
That key means everything to me.
It's a reminder of Annie's strength and courage.
It's a reminder of wonderful memories shared with my favorite people.
It's a challenge to reach every single one of my dreams.
It's a keepsake of the unspoken bond and sisterhood that Natalie and I possess.
It's the key to my future.
It's the single most solitary definition of my life that could be represented by an unmoving object.
And it's a constant symbol of faith, trust, determination, dreams, and love.
All of which I learned more about in The Miracle Worker than I ever learned at one time.
All day long today, I've been thinking about that key.
Holding on to it.
It's a touchable piece of my soul, and I'm lucky to have it.
I remember reading a children's adaptation of her story when I was little. Even then, I could recognize it's incredible magic. I never imagined one day that the impact of her story would change my life, as I knew it, forever.
I remember the day I got the phonecall from Natalie, announcing a new challenge. A new opportunity, a new dream, a new and shining chance to change our own little bit of the world, a new reason to make a difference:
A 7 week production of The Miracle Worker. With Natalie as Helen, and myself being offered the role of Annie Sullivan. Somewhere deep within my heart, despite the fear and the knowledge of the impossibility, I felt something move and I knew there was no way I could say no. Somehow I felt the gravity of the situation, I knew we were about to embark on a road that would lead us to make our own history. And we did.
Being a method actor, you don't just act the part. You are the part. You reach down inside of yourself until you find that character inside of yourself, and then you bring her out and she envelops you.
For 7 weeks, I wasn't only acting Anne Sullivan. I was Anne Sullivan. She was my every action, thought, word, feeling. To this day, almost 2 fateful years later, I still feel her presence in me. She taught me how to take a stand.
She taught me to never give up if you truly believe in something. She taught me that no matter how small a dream, or how impossible, it can be achieved if you only set your mind to it.
She gave me passion, drive, fulfillment, thirst for life, and the knowledge to differentiate between what I know I can do and what people think I can do.
She gave me Ireland.
She gave me my life-long soulmates and closest friends.
She's given me new breath into life and a new fire to live with a purpose and to write without hesitation.
What haven't I learned from her??
She gave me Natalie.
The relationship between Helen and Annie is without a doubt one of the most beautiful and unique, special relationships in all of human understanding. Natalie and I shared each other's souls for 7 whole weeks, and now we know each other's hearts and feelings like no other. Natalie inspires me more than anyone. It's not just her life story, it's how she lives. How she chooses to live, how she writes. In the aspect of being a writer, she's the only person most like myself. We share the same true passion, and she really understands what moves me the most.
I like to think we have the special relationship we do because of what we went through in the 7 week period.
We both came out of it changed people, and you don't share an experience like that with someone without giving them a piece of your soul and taking a piece of theirs with you.
In the Keller home, Helen was given the keys to all the rooms in the house so that she could never lock herself in a room with no way of getting out. When Annie moved in, Helen locked her in her room and hid the key underneath the pump outside.
At the end of the story, or in this case, the play, Helen finds the key and returns to the house. She places the key directly in Annie's hand as a final sign of love and understanding.
Last night, Natalie threw me a small birthday dinner, and it was absolutely beautiful.
On the way home, she gave me her last gift and told me to open it. Hanging from the gift bag handle was an old-fashioned key hung on a thin red ribbon.
It was a small, simple gesture, but more significant than any gift I have ever received.
That key means everything to me.
It's a reminder of Annie's strength and courage.
It's a reminder of wonderful memories shared with my favorite people.
It's a challenge to reach every single one of my dreams.
It's a keepsake of the unspoken bond and sisterhood that Natalie and I possess.
It's the key to my future.
It's the single most solitary definition of my life that could be represented by an unmoving object.
And it's a constant symbol of faith, trust, determination, dreams, and love.
All of which I learned more about in The Miracle Worker than I ever learned at one time.
All day long today, I've been thinking about that key.
Holding on to it.
It's a touchable piece of my soul, and I'm lucky to have it.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I Believe
I believe in candlelit baths. I believe in treating people with utmost respect and with the least amount of judgement possible. I believe in Celine Dion. I believe in clarity. I believe in difference of opinions, but I also believe that they shouldn't be discussed in voices raised over a loud whisper. I believe in love.
I believe in movies with dark humor. I believe in star-shaped paper lanterns from IKEA. I believe in every single Beatles' record ever created. I believe in the power of validation. I believe in acknowledging my own faults, and accepting them. I believe in doing everything you can to work on those faults. I do not believe in people's unwillingness to consider themselves at fault for anything. I believe in contemplation and self-reflection. I believe in apologizing when necessary, and sometimes even when you feel it isn't necessary.
I believe in praying- on your knees, with your hands crossed over your heart, with your arms raised high, with your eyes closed or open. I believe in traveling and learning something new every day. I believe in affirmation. I believe in the power of a beautiful black dress. I believe in going out to dinner with friends, and I believe in the sanctity of books. I believe in peace, and I believe in never giving up hope that it can be achieved.
I believe in JD Salinger, because every word I've read from his novels or short stories has spoken to me unlike the words of any other author. I believe in truth, and I believe absolutely everyone deserves to hear the truth even if means fessing up to your worst sins. I do not believe in lying. I believe in the freedom of speech, as long as you say what you feel intelligently and respectfully. I do not believe in yelling. I one-hundred percent do not believe in violence. I believe you always have the power to walk away.
I believe in Whitney Houston. I believe in dancing around your room after midnight to "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?" by JET. I believe in emulating Audrey Hepburn and honoring Marilyn Monroe. I believe in doing everything possible to proserve, respect, conserve and protect our environment and the world God has so graciously blessed us with.
I believe in crying while watching Animal Planet. I believe in blogging. I believe in quilts. I believe in acting, writing, analyzing and cooking. I believe music alone is a perfectly good reason for to live. I believe in telling people you love them. I believe in dreams. I believe in chapstick and hand lotion and shaving cream.
I believe in Christmas trees. I believe in Neverland and Peter Pan. I really do.
I believe that fairytales are real, and I believe miracles happen all the time. I have faith in humanity. I believe everything happens for a reason, and that destiny is real. I believe in some superstitions for the sake of tradition.
I believe in loudly singing the songs from Fiddler on the Roof with your best friend in the car. I believe in weekly Family nights.
I believe in giving your best. I also believe in making mistakes. I do not believe in making the same mistake twice. I believe in taking long walks. I believe in vanilla soy lattes from Starbucks. I believe in Target and Old Navy and Gap. I believe in live music. I believe knowing when to say enough is enough.
I believe in my shallow appreciation for cute, blonde surfers with VW buses.
I believe in harmless fun. I do not believe in drugs. I believe in alcohol, but nothing in excess.
I believe in taking care of people.
I believe in God.
I believe in clean, fresh sheets and I believe in photographs.
I believe in hearing stories. I believe that books should not be banned. I believe that people alone are responsible for their actions, although some things can influence them. I believe in voicing what you believe in, and I believe in the fact that you may not agree with me on any of these things.
I believe that I'm okay with that.
I believe that you should be too.
I believe in movies with dark humor. I believe in star-shaped paper lanterns from IKEA. I believe in every single Beatles' record ever created. I believe in the power of validation. I believe in acknowledging my own faults, and accepting them. I believe in doing everything you can to work on those faults. I do not believe in people's unwillingness to consider themselves at fault for anything. I believe in contemplation and self-reflection. I believe in apologizing when necessary, and sometimes even when you feel it isn't necessary.
I believe in praying- on your knees, with your hands crossed over your heart, with your arms raised high, with your eyes closed or open. I believe in traveling and learning something new every day. I believe in affirmation. I believe in the power of a beautiful black dress. I believe in going out to dinner with friends, and I believe in the sanctity of books. I believe in peace, and I believe in never giving up hope that it can be achieved.
I believe in JD Salinger, because every word I've read from his novels or short stories has spoken to me unlike the words of any other author. I believe in truth, and I believe absolutely everyone deserves to hear the truth even if means fessing up to your worst sins. I do not believe in lying. I believe in the freedom of speech, as long as you say what you feel intelligently and respectfully. I do not believe in yelling. I one-hundred percent do not believe in violence. I believe you always have the power to walk away.
I believe in Whitney Houston. I believe in dancing around your room after midnight to "Are You Gonna Be My Girl?" by JET. I believe in emulating Audrey Hepburn and honoring Marilyn Monroe. I believe in doing everything possible to proserve, respect, conserve and protect our environment and the world God has so graciously blessed us with.
I believe in crying while watching Animal Planet. I believe in blogging. I believe in quilts. I believe in acting, writing, analyzing and cooking. I believe music alone is a perfectly good reason for to live. I believe in telling people you love them. I believe in dreams. I believe in chapstick and hand lotion and shaving cream.
I believe in Christmas trees. I believe in Neverland and Peter Pan. I really do.
I believe that fairytales are real, and I believe miracles happen all the time. I have faith in humanity. I believe everything happens for a reason, and that destiny is real. I believe in some superstitions for the sake of tradition.
I believe in loudly singing the songs from Fiddler on the Roof with your best friend in the car. I believe in weekly Family nights.
I believe in giving your best. I also believe in making mistakes. I do not believe in making the same mistake twice. I believe in taking long walks. I believe in vanilla soy lattes from Starbucks. I believe in Target and Old Navy and Gap. I believe in live music. I believe knowing when to say enough is enough.
I believe in my shallow appreciation for cute, blonde surfers with VW buses.
I believe in harmless fun. I do not believe in drugs. I believe in alcohol, but nothing in excess.
I believe in taking care of people.
I believe in God.
I believe in clean, fresh sheets and I believe in photographs.
I believe in hearing stories. I believe that books should not be banned. I believe that people alone are responsible for their actions, although some things can influence them. I believe in voicing what you believe in, and I believe in the fact that you may not agree with me on any of these things.
I believe that I'm okay with that.
I believe that you should be too.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
SAD
It's raining steadily outside. Lifehouse's No Name Face album is comforting my swollen, aching mind, and as I sit here facing my open windows, I wish I could stay and write in this moment forever.
I wish I could loose myself in this song.
I wish I could stand in the ocean, arms raised and heart abandoned, waiting for clarity.
I wish I could fall asleep watching a romantic Christmas movie.
I wish that once again I could walk among the Roman Catacombs, meditating on humanity and it's incredible will to survive.
I wish I could forget what I choose to, and relive what I cherish.
I wish above all else that I could find peace right now, right here, and look no further for happiness or contentment.
The brokenness of the human heart is where it's beauty lies, but it's also where it's absolute terror thrives.
The beauty is where the redemption is found, the healing, the piecing together of the already broken pieces, the rebirth, the joy and the love that stems from being given a second chance.
The terror is anger, jealousy, pride, fear, pain, discontentment and lack of thankfulness, lack of grace and humility. And hopelessness.
The combination of hopelessness and discontentment is perhaps not the most lethal of heart-born terrors, nor the most painful, but without a doubt it is the most strangling and disabling combination.
You feel like you'd rather be anywhere, doing anything else with anybody else than here, with these people and this task at hand, but at the same time, hopelessness sets in and the realization (however false it may be) that you can't get out and you can't change your life right now freezes you.
You are overcome with emptiness and a little bit of fear.
So you carry on in day to day life, stuck on autopilot, sinking deeper and deeper into yourself and the corners of your mind that cling wildly to any fragile string of hope they can. You have to be careful, though, those fragile shreds can only take so much before you, in a frantic rage, shatter them all into infinite pieces.
It's a fine balance to learn how to walk.
A line that puts more than your hope and contentment at risk- it starts to jeapordize a little bit of your sanity, and a lot of your reserve and will to keep fighting.
As the sky only gets darker, and the days only grow shorter, the cold starts to seep deeply into your psyche and soon, everything has a dark side. And that quickly becomes the only side you can see.
Your love for the weather, and the season and the time of year (however strong it may be) is overwhelmed in a crashing wave of depression and lack of sleep.
Your friends become your enemies.
Everyone who calls, texts, messages you is only out to get you, and the idea of returning phonecalls and texts is enough to deplete your emotional resources completely. So you withdraw completely.
The hours tick by, and sometimes you sleep too much.
Other times, you sleep too little.
No matter how much sleep you do or don't get, you're always exhausted.
Disillusioned, disenchanted, disengaged, disenfranchised, disqualified, disgusted, disturbed.
Disorder.
Seasonal Affective Disorder.
SAD.
Buy a sunlamp.
The winters here are dark, bitter and cold.
But they're also beautiful....
And it's people like me who are seasonally affected by the weather, but love it too much to change their scenery, that are the hopeless ones.
Because we're willing to suffer through it, we're striving to feel more alive.
Because we're willing to go a little bit depressed, we're trying to gain something fleeting to write about.
Because we're not willing to be moved, we're willing to take the good moments and stretch them on as long as possible, even though they rarely outnumber the bad moments.
It's a little bit abnormal, a little bit unstable, and a lot of pain for those around us.
We don't mean for it to be any of those.
I apologize.
........
I think the weather's just starting to get to me, a little bit.
I wish I could loose myself in this song.
I wish I could stand in the ocean, arms raised and heart abandoned, waiting for clarity.
I wish I could fall asleep watching a romantic Christmas movie.
I wish that once again I could walk among the Roman Catacombs, meditating on humanity and it's incredible will to survive.
I wish I could forget what I choose to, and relive what I cherish.
I wish above all else that I could find peace right now, right here, and look no further for happiness or contentment.
The brokenness of the human heart is where it's beauty lies, but it's also where it's absolute terror thrives.
The beauty is where the redemption is found, the healing, the piecing together of the already broken pieces, the rebirth, the joy and the love that stems from being given a second chance.
The terror is anger, jealousy, pride, fear, pain, discontentment and lack of thankfulness, lack of grace and humility. And hopelessness.
The combination of hopelessness and discontentment is perhaps not the most lethal of heart-born terrors, nor the most painful, but without a doubt it is the most strangling and disabling combination.
You feel like you'd rather be anywhere, doing anything else with anybody else than here, with these people and this task at hand, but at the same time, hopelessness sets in and the realization (however false it may be) that you can't get out and you can't change your life right now freezes you.
You are overcome with emptiness and a little bit of fear.
So you carry on in day to day life, stuck on autopilot, sinking deeper and deeper into yourself and the corners of your mind that cling wildly to any fragile string of hope they can. You have to be careful, though, those fragile shreds can only take so much before you, in a frantic rage, shatter them all into infinite pieces.
It's a fine balance to learn how to walk.
A line that puts more than your hope and contentment at risk- it starts to jeapordize a little bit of your sanity, and a lot of your reserve and will to keep fighting.
As the sky only gets darker, and the days only grow shorter, the cold starts to seep deeply into your psyche and soon, everything has a dark side. And that quickly becomes the only side you can see.
Your love for the weather, and the season and the time of year (however strong it may be) is overwhelmed in a crashing wave of depression and lack of sleep.
Your friends become your enemies.
Everyone who calls, texts, messages you is only out to get you, and the idea of returning phonecalls and texts is enough to deplete your emotional resources completely. So you withdraw completely.
The hours tick by, and sometimes you sleep too much.
Other times, you sleep too little.
No matter how much sleep you do or don't get, you're always exhausted.
Disillusioned, disenchanted, disengaged, disenfranchised, disqualified, disgusted, disturbed.
Disorder.
Seasonal Affective Disorder.
SAD.
Buy a sunlamp.
The winters here are dark, bitter and cold.
But they're also beautiful....
And it's people like me who are seasonally affected by the weather, but love it too much to change their scenery, that are the hopeless ones.
Because we're willing to suffer through it, we're striving to feel more alive.
Because we're willing to go a little bit depressed, we're trying to gain something fleeting to write about.
Because we're not willing to be moved, we're willing to take the good moments and stretch them on as long as possible, even though they rarely outnumber the bad moments.
It's a little bit abnormal, a little bit unstable, and a lot of pain for those around us.
We don't mean for it to be any of those.
I apologize.
........
I think the weather's just starting to get to me, a little bit.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
I Am Awake Past Midnight And Sentimental Too
12:23 AM strikes again.
I tried to retaliate by watching another episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but that just made me sleepy. Which was the point, and almost worked until I got a late-night text just as I was dozing off, and here I am now, wide awake and wishing I had turned my phone off before bed. Alas, I'm never that smart.
The past few days have been overcome with hustle and bustle, holiday preparations, a strong feeling of loneliness and music. And writing. I did some more work on the short story fairy tale, but it's nowhere near completion yet.
It snowed here during the first part of the week!
I remember it very clearly.
I was at Ben and Natalie's house on monday night for dinner; the forecasts called for snow but we saw no sign of it. Raelyn and I were driving home at around 9PM when suddenly, the first flakes started to fall. Slowly at first, barely visible. But then they grew.
We listened to Christmas music most of the way home, and as I sat there, humming along to Frank Sinatra's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and staring out of the window at the black night and white flakes falling all around us, I had the strongest urge to just break down and cry.
Snow is the least pretentious out of all precipitious substances. I think that's why it made me cry. I felt like I had been putting up a front all day long that day, and I was tired of it. Then the snow started falling and made me feel like I didn't have to put up that front any longer, and then I realized how exhausted I was and I just couldn't take it anymore, so I cried.
It felt good.
The next day was Tuesday, and I still felt like I was putting up a front.
I went to Singer Hill with Natalie, Raelyn and Charity, and we all wrote for an hour.
I love having people in my life who deeply understand the same things that I deeply understand.
Mutual understanding begets mutual appreciation and mutual appreciation begets mutual acceptance. And wonderful hugs. Life's beautiful when you find someone else who shares the same sort of heart you do. Whether it's an actor's heart, musician's heart, or a writer's heart, that sort of mutual understanding begets a lifetime of reassurance and love. I felt better after that, although my only wish is that it could have lasted longer.
That night I tucked up in bed and watched A Streetcar Named Desire which, strange as it may seem to those of you who are lucky enough to have watched it, is a strongly comforting film to me. It sort of puts everything to rights in this unstable, unruly world we live in. I'm not sure how, I think it might just be the memories I have associated with it. They involve the people who know my heart the best, because they share the same one. :)
Wednesday dawned bright.
Julia -style omelettes and fresh coffee made the previous few days' offhandedness seem distant and unimportant.
My parents and I escaped from the house for a few hours and saw the newest Disney movie, Tangled.
We were adamant we knew all the voice-overs by ear.. Amanda Seyfried, Adrian Brody, and Raquel Welch.
We were desperately wrong on all of them. It was fun...:)
The rest of Wednesday was spent preparing for Thanksgiving. I was appointed to set the table, which in our house, is a pretty big deal. My mom is infamous for her beautiful table settings, so if you're still living under her roof and it's your job to set the table, you want to make sure it's done absolutely perfectly.
I like to think I did a fairly nice job, but I'm too afraid to ask. ;)
What really hit me wednesday night as I was going to and from the hutch, to the butler's pantry, to the table and back again, was how much I missed my grandmother.
Years ago, the hutch sitting in our front hallway belonged to her. Residing in it are all of my mom's favorite dishes, the dishes that belonged to Grandma Annie. Ever since I was little, I have always loved looking at the beautiful things inside that hutch. Over the years, some things have been broken, some things have been taken out and put somewhere else, and some things have been put in and rearranged countless times.
The one thing that never changes, however, is the smell. Ever since as far back as I can remember it's always smelled the same. Among the beautiful etched glass dishes, and hand painted salt and pepper shakers from distant shores, there is a shallow brown dish with my grandmother's favorite potpourri in it. That dish of potpourri has been in there ever since before I came along, and no matter who inherits the hutch, I can guarantee you right now that that dish of potpourri is never going to leave that cabinet.
The smell alone is enough to reduce me to cosmic tears.
It's every comforting, sad, beautiful, tragic, overjoyed, aching, unyielding and familiar thing that you could ever imagine, all at once. It's enough to make your heart hurt a little bit, because of the memories and the feeling of emptiness.
Like you've lost something. I have lost something. I've lost her, and very rarely does a day go by when I don't think about her and wish with all my being that I could have her back, if only for a day.
Thanskgiving is always an emotional holiday. Literally. There are so many endorphins in all that food, it makes you go sort of emotion-crazy.
But it's always the one holiday that makes me miss her the most and I don't think it's because of the food, or because of the tradition of remembering what you're thankful for, or because it's always spent with family...
I think it's because it's the one holiday that she's chosen to come down and be among us as much as she can. It's the holiday that I feel her around the most, and I think that's another reason why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
It's like she's there, celebrating with us, thankful for one more day that she can almost spend with us, until we can all someday see her again.
I would give away every single book, every single cd, every guitar, every movie, every notebook, and every dollar that I have if I could just listen to her voice telling me all that she's seen from Heaven.
I would give myself and everything else I had if I could just hold her hand and talk with her for a little bit.
I miss her so much.
She's the glue that has held this family together from the beginning.
I just wish she had been given the chance to hold us together for a little longer. And that is selfish of me, but I can't help it. I didn't get as much time with her because I'm so much younger than my siblings and cousins, but that's life. God makes everything happen for a reason, and I'm learning to be thankful about it even though it's really hard.
Thursday morning was met with long-awaited-for contentment and happiness.
Thanksgiving was beautiful in every way and not to be cliched, but I am sincerely thankful to have experienced it with my family and close friends, and my Grandma Annie.
That brings us to today, which was spent in recovering from last night's merriment, and cleaning the hurricane mess that great parties always seem to leave behind. I also worked, which was less than exciting because it was completely dead by 7'0'clock.
Tomorrow, or I should say 'later today' will be spent decorating for Christmas and hopefully shaking that annoying front that seems to creep up every now and then, feeding on loneliness and inconsistencies.
.....
If I didn't have to run my butt off in order to work off all the excess food I consumed over the past few days, I might have made myself pancakes tomorrow morning.
The things we do for skinny people jeans.
:)
Goodnight world, sweet dreams.
I tried to retaliate by watching another episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but that just made me sleepy. Which was the point, and almost worked until I got a late-night text just as I was dozing off, and here I am now, wide awake and wishing I had turned my phone off before bed. Alas, I'm never that smart.
The past few days have been overcome with hustle and bustle, holiday preparations, a strong feeling of loneliness and music. And writing. I did some more work on the short story fairy tale, but it's nowhere near completion yet.
It snowed here during the first part of the week!
I remember it very clearly.
I was at Ben and Natalie's house on monday night for dinner; the forecasts called for snow but we saw no sign of it. Raelyn and I were driving home at around 9PM when suddenly, the first flakes started to fall. Slowly at first, barely visible. But then they grew.
We listened to Christmas music most of the way home, and as I sat there, humming along to Frank Sinatra's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas and staring out of the window at the black night and white flakes falling all around us, I had the strongest urge to just break down and cry.
Snow is the least pretentious out of all precipitious substances. I think that's why it made me cry. I felt like I had been putting up a front all day long that day, and I was tired of it. Then the snow started falling and made me feel like I didn't have to put up that front any longer, and then I realized how exhausted I was and I just couldn't take it anymore, so I cried.
It felt good.
The next day was Tuesday, and I still felt like I was putting up a front.
I went to Singer Hill with Natalie, Raelyn and Charity, and we all wrote for an hour.
I love having people in my life who deeply understand the same things that I deeply understand.
Mutual understanding begets mutual appreciation and mutual appreciation begets mutual acceptance. And wonderful hugs. Life's beautiful when you find someone else who shares the same sort of heart you do. Whether it's an actor's heart, musician's heart, or a writer's heart, that sort of mutual understanding begets a lifetime of reassurance and love. I felt better after that, although my only wish is that it could have lasted longer.
That night I tucked up in bed and watched A Streetcar Named Desire which, strange as it may seem to those of you who are lucky enough to have watched it, is a strongly comforting film to me. It sort of puts everything to rights in this unstable, unruly world we live in. I'm not sure how, I think it might just be the memories I have associated with it. They involve the people who know my heart the best, because they share the same one. :)
Wednesday dawned bright.
Julia -style omelettes and fresh coffee made the previous few days' offhandedness seem distant and unimportant.
My parents and I escaped from the house for a few hours and saw the newest Disney movie, Tangled.
We were adamant we knew all the voice-overs by ear.. Amanda Seyfried, Adrian Brody, and Raquel Welch.
We were desperately wrong on all of them. It was fun...:)
The rest of Wednesday was spent preparing for Thanksgiving. I was appointed to set the table, which in our house, is a pretty big deal. My mom is infamous for her beautiful table settings, so if you're still living under her roof and it's your job to set the table, you want to make sure it's done absolutely perfectly.
I like to think I did a fairly nice job, but I'm too afraid to ask. ;)
What really hit me wednesday night as I was going to and from the hutch, to the butler's pantry, to the table and back again, was how much I missed my grandmother.
Years ago, the hutch sitting in our front hallway belonged to her. Residing in it are all of my mom's favorite dishes, the dishes that belonged to Grandma Annie. Ever since I was little, I have always loved looking at the beautiful things inside that hutch. Over the years, some things have been broken, some things have been taken out and put somewhere else, and some things have been put in and rearranged countless times.
The one thing that never changes, however, is the smell. Ever since as far back as I can remember it's always smelled the same. Among the beautiful etched glass dishes, and hand painted salt and pepper shakers from distant shores, there is a shallow brown dish with my grandmother's favorite potpourri in it. That dish of potpourri has been in there ever since before I came along, and no matter who inherits the hutch, I can guarantee you right now that that dish of potpourri is never going to leave that cabinet.
The smell alone is enough to reduce me to cosmic tears.
It's every comforting, sad, beautiful, tragic, overjoyed, aching, unyielding and familiar thing that you could ever imagine, all at once. It's enough to make your heart hurt a little bit, because of the memories and the feeling of emptiness.
Like you've lost something. I have lost something. I've lost her, and very rarely does a day go by when I don't think about her and wish with all my being that I could have her back, if only for a day.
Thanskgiving is always an emotional holiday. Literally. There are so many endorphins in all that food, it makes you go sort of emotion-crazy.
But it's always the one holiday that makes me miss her the most and I don't think it's because of the food, or because of the tradition of remembering what you're thankful for, or because it's always spent with family...
I think it's because it's the one holiday that she's chosen to come down and be among us as much as she can. It's the holiday that I feel her around the most, and I think that's another reason why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
It's like she's there, celebrating with us, thankful for one more day that she can almost spend with us, until we can all someday see her again.
I would give away every single book, every single cd, every guitar, every movie, every notebook, and every dollar that I have if I could just listen to her voice telling me all that she's seen from Heaven.
I would give myself and everything else I had if I could just hold her hand and talk with her for a little bit.
I miss her so much.
She's the glue that has held this family together from the beginning.
I just wish she had been given the chance to hold us together for a little longer. And that is selfish of me, but I can't help it. I didn't get as much time with her because I'm so much younger than my siblings and cousins, but that's life. God makes everything happen for a reason, and I'm learning to be thankful about it even though it's really hard.
Thursday morning was met with long-awaited-for contentment and happiness.
Thanksgiving was beautiful in every way and not to be cliched, but I am sincerely thankful to have experienced it with my family and close friends, and my Grandma Annie.
That brings us to today, which was spent in recovering from last night's merriment, and cleaning the hurricane mess that great parties always seem to leave behind. I also worked, which was less than exciting because it was completely dead by 7'0'clock.
Tomorrow, or I should say 'later today' will be spent decorating for Christmas and hopefully shaking that annoying front that seems to creep up every now and then, feeding on loneliness and inconsistencies.
.....
If I didn't have to run my butt off in order to work off all the excess food I consumed over the past few days, I might have made myself pancakes tomorrow morning.
The things we do for skinny people jeans.
:)
Goodnight world, sweet dreams.
Friday, November 19, 2010
"You, you never looked so good, sipping life down like I wish I could.."
-Tomorrow Never Comes a Day Too Soon- Flogging Molly
Sometimes, all I do is spend time worrying about what the future will bring. I'm analyzing every aspect of the present, wondering how it will change in the years to come, wondering who will be in my life that isn't now, and also who it is in my life now that will be missing in the future.
I waste precious moments of today, dreaming and longing for tomorrow. I distress over where I want to live, how I will end up there, who will come with me, where I will work, how I will make ends meet and if I'll ever fall in love while I'm away from home.
Will I be able to write as much as I want to? Will I be able to breathe as much as I want to?
Will there be sufficient space for my dog I plan to adopt when I move out?
Will I be able to come back and visit often?
Will I miss my family? Will I never come home to live in Oregon again?
Will I really be by the ocean in Ireland?
Will I get there in the next five years, or will it take my entire life to get there?
Am I being unrealistic?
Am I really sure that's what I truly want?
Am I going to be okay on my own?
Constantly, incessantly, in and out, in and out, in and out of every day this is what I do.
When does it end?
It doesn't. It should, and today I realized it will.
I was at work tonight, flitting about in the usual Friday night dinner rush, wrapping silverware here, busing tables there, taking names at the door, watching the clock, planning every next move, eyeing the seated tables and guessing how much time would pass before I could give their table to a new party, etc. I was tired, but I was very busy, so I didn't really notice.
I remember vaguely thinking at one point, "Will I always be this lucky at finding jobs?" I didn't even realize then how lucky I really was.
8:15 rolled around and the restaurant was completely full. One of my bosses, (I have three), Kyle sauntered up to me and asked me what I thought in regards to clocking out. I told him it was up to him. He told me to stick around for a little while longer, as all the tables in the restaurant were still full, and if anybody walked through the door I'd have to resurrect the waiting list.
My other boss Patty, Kyle's mom, was sitting at the counter chatting with a couple of regulars who come in every Friday (and most Saturdays). She called me over and told me to come and join their little band of conversation, saying, "If anybody walks in you'll see them," with a merry twinkle in her eye. So I did.
We laughed and talked and Patty and I told them the story of how I came to work there, and Patty said lovely, nice things about my work ethic, and my personality. They asked what my plans for school were. I told them I wanted to be a writer, they smiled and Patty was surprised and excited.
Then we started talking about Thanskgiving, and she said that she was spending it with her two sons (You guessed it, Eric is the other son and my other boss) and a few more of the employees who don't really have anywhere to go. I was struck by this, and momentarily reflected on just how much of a family they all are. We all are.
Then she asked me if my family was doing something, in a roundabout way of making sure that I had somewhere to go on Thanksgiving.
Wyatt, one of the servers, brought Patty her Caprese salad that she had ordered. She immediately demanded me to go grab a plate because she invariably insists on sharing all of her food with me when she gets it. I told her I loved her because she always shares with me and she laughed. I went and got a plate and she put the basil, tomatoes and mozarella cheese with bread cubes on my plate and after I had finished it, she ensured I had second helpings of her delicious salad. She wouldn't take no for an answer. :)
She told me that tomorrow she's going to train me to start taking to-go orders over the phone, and how to work the digital dining computers we have, because it's high time I take on more responsibilities rather than just standing by the door, waiting for customers. I'm really excited for that.
After I clocked out, ordered a pizza and had a few minutes to myself, drinking cocoa and reading about Alexander Pushkin, I went to thank her again for sharing some of her salad and to tell her and the regulars goodbye and that it was nice to talk to them again.
She pulled me in for a hug, and then said she'd see me tomorrow.
She's like a mom to everyone, and I love that about her.
I walked to the car and I realized that I don't need to worry about what the future will bring, because I have an amazing life right now. If you waste too much time thinking about tomorrow, you'll miss the blessing of today entirely, and I'm done doing that.
I also don't need to worry about how it will all come together, because God will inevitably provide for me, just the way he's done here with the most amazing first job anyone could ever have.
He's given me yet another family, in a place I honestly can say I did not expect to find one. That's what your workplace should be, I think. Warm, and comforting and familial and full of love, of hope.
I'm always going to be okay, you know?
No matter how much I worry, or how much life hurts sometimes, I'm always going to have something to hold onto.
Someone to hold onto. Whether it's a sister, a parent, a close friend, a lover, a cousin or even an employer.
I'm ready for my thirst for life to be driven by today, not by tomorrow.
I'm just going to soak up the time I have left in this place until it's time to leave.
I'm blessed, and I'm thankful that I get to love going to work every night.
It's good to be reminded of all that we take for granted.
It keeps us grounded. It keeps us human.
Goodnight....
Sweet dreams. :)
Sometimes, all I do is spend time worrying about what the future will bring. I'm analyzing every aspect of the present, wondering how it will change in the years to come, wondering who will be in my life that isn't now, and also who it is in my life now that will be missing in the future.
I waste precious moments of today, dreaming and longing for tomorrow. I distress over where I want to live, how I will end up there, who will come with me, where I will work, how I will make ends meet and if I'll ever fall in love while I'm away from home.
Will I be able to write as much as I want to? Will I be able to breathe as much as I want to?
Will there be sufficient space for my dog I plan to adopt when I move out?
Will I be able to come back and visit often?
Will I miss my family? Will I never come home to live in Oregon again?
Will I really be by the ocean in Ireland?
Will I get there in the next five years, or will it take my entire life to get there?
Am I being unrealistic?
Am I really sure that's what I truly want?
Am I going to be okay on my own?
Constantly, incessantly, in and out, in and out, in and out of every day this is what I do.
When does it end?
It doesn't. It should, and today I realized it will.
I was at work tonight, flitting about in the usual Friday night dinner rush, wrapping silverware here, busing tables there, taking names at the door, watching the clock, planning every next move, eyeing the seated tables and guessing how much time would pass before I could give their table to a new party, etc. I was tired, but I was very busy, so I didn't really notice.
I remember vaguely thinking at one point, "Will I always be this lucky at finding jobs?" I didn't even realize then how lucky I really was.
8:15 rolled around and the restaurant was completely full. One of my bosses, (I have three), Kyle sauntered up to me and asked me what I thought in regards to clocking out. I told him it was up to him. He told me to stick around for a little while longer, as all the tables in the restaurant were still full, and if anybody walked through the door I'd have to resurrect the waiting list.
My other boss Patty, Kyle's mom, was sitting at the counter chatting with a couple of regulars who come in every Friday (and most Saturdays). She called me over and told me to come and join their little band of conversation, saying, "If anybody walks in you'll see them," with a merry twinkle in her eye. So I did.
We laughed and talked and Patty and I told them the story of how I came to work there, and Patty said lovely, nice things about my work ethic, and my personality. They asked what my plans for school were. I told them I wanted to be a writer, they smiled and Patty was surprised and excited.
Then we started talking about Thanskgiving, and she said that she was spending it with her two sons (You guessed it, Eric is the other son and my other boss) and a few more of the employees who don't really have anywhere to go. I was struck by this, and momentarily reflected on just how much of a family they all are. We all are.
Then she asked me if my family was doing something, in a roundabout way of making sure that I had somewhere to go on Thanksgiving.
Wyatt, one of the servers, brought Patty her Caprese salad that she had ordered. She immediately demanded me to go grab a plate because she invariably insists on sharing all of her food with me when she gets it. I told her I loved her because she always shares with me and she laughed. I went and got a plate and she put the basil, tomatoes and mozarella cheese with bread cubes on my plate and after I had finished it, she ensured I had second helpings of her delicious salad. She wouldn't take no for an answer. :)
She told me that tomorrow she's going to train me to start taking to-go orders over the phone, and how to work the digital dining computers we have, because it's high time I take on more responsibilities rather than just standing by the door, waiting for customers. I'm really excited for that.
After I clocked out, ordered a pizza and had a few minutes to myself, drinking cocoa and reading about Alexander Pushkin, I went to thank her again for sharing some of her salad and to tell her and the regulars goodbye and that it was nice to talk to them again.
She pulled me in for a hug, and then said she'd see me tomorrow.
She's like a mom to everyone, and I love that about her.
I walked to the car and I realized that I don't need to worry about what the future will bring, because I have an amazing life right now. If you waste too much time thinking about tomorrow, you'll miss the blessing of today entirely, and I'm done doing that.
I also don't need to worry about how it will all come together, because God will inevitably provide for me, just the way he's done here with the most amazing first job anyone could ever have.
He's given me yet another family, in a place I honestly can say I did not expect to find one. That's what your workplace should be, I think. Warm, and comforting and familial and full of love, of hope.
I'm always going to be okay, you know?
No matter how much I worry, or how much life hurts sometimes, I'm always going to have something to hold onto.
Someone to hold onto. Whether it's a sister, a parent, a close friend, a lover, a cousin or even an employer.
I'm ready for my thirst for life to be driven by today, not by tomorrow.
I'm just going to soak up the time I have left in this place until it's time to leave.
I'm blessed, and I'm thankful that I get to love going to work every night.
It's good to be reminded of all that we take for granted.
It keeps us grounded. It keeps us human.
Goodnight....
Sweet dreams. :)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Blog Stalking, Harry Potter Raving, and Serial Attraction to Blondes Unveiled..
So recently I've discovered a few blogs that interest me.
Here's the glitch: they sort of belong to people I either A) know socially, but have never talked to in my life, or B) used to know rather well and then things got awkward and I haven't talked to them in over 8 years.
So, half of me wants to follow their blogs, but the other half doesn't want to be thought of as really weird and out of place. So then I consider the follow anonymously option. But I can't tell, is that really creepy? Because it seems creepy to me. I don't know. Maybe it's not.
I can't bring myself to do it.
But then I feel creepy just checking up on their blogs every now and then without actually following them.
Hmmmmm.
Much consideration!
Like right now, I sort of feel like a stalker. But then I was thinking, is it even possible to stalk blogs? I mean, they're blogs, for goodness' sakes. They're supposed to be followed religiously and checked up on and read and laughed/cried at and they're created for the purpose that people outside of your social circle can know you and know what you're thinking about.
Am I right?
So then, why am I scared to follow these certain blogs publicly???
I am so irrational sometimes! It really does drive me insane.
Moving on to other current and more important events, TONIGHT IS THE MIDNIGHT SHOWING OF HARRY POTTER 7!!!!
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited to be reunited with my favorite onscreen characters. Seriously, I think I was born to marry Draco Malfoy. Not the actor, but the actual character. Don't ask me how that's going to work. I'm still figuring it out, but I'm pretty sure it's going to happen someday.
I know, I know, he's like the Prince of Darkness, or whatever you diehard Potter/Weasley fans like to call him, but deep down under that sexy, cold, sneering exterior is the heart of a sad, lonely man who's never truly been loved.
Yet.
You have to understand something about multidimensionality (which Draco holds the world record placement of), multidimensional people are very misunderstood.
This is probably due to the fact that in the midst of all their insane, whirling dimensions and personalities, some poor, foolish bystander is hit with the more unfortunate dimension of that individual being in a hurry, being violently ill, or suffering from a slight case of intense embitterment towards potential arch-rivals. Hey, having to deal with multiple layers of character and feeling is hard to deal with. You try treating everyone nicely when you can't even honestly describe what it is you're feeling because it's so intertwined with depth and multidimensionality. (I really like that word).
Anyways, I'm an eternal fan of Draco Malfoy, because I can see good in him. I think it might have been all the "Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger" Fanfiction I read back in the day.... Oh, do not give me that look. You know you did it, too. And even if you didn't, you thought about it. Everybody did.
Anyways, in my days, I have read an abundance of Harry Potter fanfiction, and I do believe it has enriched my life in various ways. I'm not going to lie, I am the epitome of "the biggest Harry Potter nerd ever".. Like, you don't even know. I don't even want you to know.
That is how big of a HP nerd I am.
As I was saying, in those particular fanfics of the Dramione persuasion (I know, right? these people are GENIUSES!), you really see a different side of Draco. One that JK Rowling subtly hinted at (and you would only pick up on that if you were a true diehard HP nerd), but that was gloriously expanded upon in the world of HP fanfiction.
It boggled the 12 year old mind to no end.
Anyways, I feel that this is a different story for a different time......
and I'm going to move on now, before I rip my reputation any farther into miniscule shreds.
You might have been able to tell, that I am very immensely excited for the midnight showing tonight.
I'm even excited to go to work, because I know that after work, I'm going straight to the theater to wait in line for several hours in the wind and the cold and the possible snow and the anticipation is SPEWING! S.P.E.W.!!!
hahahaha! yes.
(Harry Potter joke).........
Wow. This post has taken an unfortunate turn for my credability as a generally normal human being.
Time to fix that.
Today I'm working on getting ready for Thanksgiving, and I plan to take a trip to the library to pick up my next adventure into the world of Russian literature!
Eugene Onegin- a novel in verse.
Alexander Pushkin.
Bring. It. On.
BTW: before I go punch down some dough, you all need to hear this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtzCIBNOHzM
I wish to marry this man, too.
I think I have a serial attraction to blondes....
O.o
Here's the glitch: they sort of belong to people I either A) know socially, but have never talked to in my life, or B) used to know rather well and then things got awkward and I haven't talked to them in over 8 years.
So, half of me wants to follow their blogs, but the other half doesn't want to be thought of as really weird and out of place. So then I consider the follow anonymously option. But I can't tell, is that really creepy? Because it seems creepy to me. I don't know. Maybe it's not.
I can't bring myself to do it.
But then I feel creepy just checking up on their blogs every now and then without actually following them.
Hmmmmm.
Much consideration!
Like right now, I sort of feel like a stalker. But then I was thinking, is it even possible to stalk blogs? I mean, they're blogs, for goodness' sakes. They're supposed to be followed religiously and checked up on and read and laughed/cried at and they're created for the purpose that people outside of your social circle can know you and know what you're thinking about.
Am I right?
So then, why am I scared to follow these certain blogs publicly???
I am so irrational sometimes! It really does drive me insane.
Moving on to other current and more important events, TONIGHT IS THE MIDNIGHT SHOWING OF HARRY POTTER 7!!!!
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited to be reunited with my favorite onscreen characters. Seriously, I think I was born to marry Draco Malfoy. Not the actor, but the actual character. Don't ask me how that's going to work. I'm still figuring it out, but I'm pretty sure it's going to happen someday.
I know, I know, he's like the Prince of Darkness, or whatever you diehard Potter/Weasley fans like to call him, but deep down under that sexy, cold, sneering exterior is the heart of a sad, lonely man who's never truly been loved.
Yet.
You have to understand something about multidimensionality (which Draco holds the world record placement of), multidimensional people are very misunderstood.
This is probably due to the fact that in the midst of all their insane, whirling dimensions and personalities, some poor, foolish bystander is hit with the more unfortunate dimension of that individual being in a hurry, being violently ill, or suffering from a slight case of intense embitterment towards potential arch-rivals. Hey, having to deal with multiple layers of character and feeling is hard to deal with. You try treating everyone nicely when you can't even honestly describe what it is you're feeling because it's so intertwined with depth and multidimensionality. (I really like that word).
Anyways, I'm an eternal fan of Draco Malfoy, because I can see good in him. I think it might have been all the "Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger" Fanfiction I read back in the day.... Oh, do not give me that look. You know you did it, too. And even if you didn't, you thought about it. Everybody did.
Anyways, in my days, I have read an abundance of Harry Potter fanfiction, and I do believe it has enriched my life in various ways. I'm not going to lie, I am the epitome of "the biggest Harry Potter nerd ever".. Like, you don't even know. I don't even want you to know.
That is how big of a HP nerd I am.
As I was saying, in those particular fanfics of the Dramione persuasion (I know, right? these people are GENIUSES!), you really see a different side of Draco. One that JK Rowling subtly hinted at (and you would only pick up on that if you were a true diehard HP nerd), but that was gloriously expanded upon in the world of HP fanfiction.
It boggled the 12 year old mind to no end.
Anyways, I feel that this is a different story for a different time......
and I'm going to move on now, before I rip my reputation any farther into miniscule shreds.
You might have been able to tell, that I am very immensely excited for the midnight showing tonight.
I'm even excited to go to work, because I know that after work, I'm going straight to the theater to wait in line for several hours in the wind and the cold and the possible snow and the anticipation is SPEWING! S.P.E.W.!!!
hahahaha! yes.
(Harry Potter joke).........
Wow. This post has taken an unfortunate turn for my credability as a generally normal human being.
Time to fix that.
Today I'm working on getting ready for Thanksgiving, and I plan to take a trip to the library to pick up my next adventure into the world of Russian literature!
Eugene Onegin- a novel in verse.
Alexander Pushkin.
Bring. It. On.
BTW: before I go punch down some dough, you all need to hear this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtzCIBNOHzM
I wish to marry this man, too.
I think I have a serial attraction to blondes....
O.o
I'll Be Your Detonator
I have the tendency to fall in love with something different every single day.
This may sound unstable to you, but it's enriching to me. :)
Today, I have absolutely fallen in love with the phrase, "I'll be your detonator." (My Chemical Romance's new single, "Nanananananana...etc...")
I have also fallen in love with this verse from that same song, "Let me tell you 'bout the sad man, shut up and let me see your jazz hands. Remember when you were a madman, thought you was batman? And you hit the party with a gas can, kiss me you animal!"
Sometimes you just feel like you would kill to have written something by someone else.
This is one of those times.
This may sound unstable to you, but it's enriching to me. :)
Today, I have absolutely fallen in love with the phrase, "I'll be your detonator." (My Chemical Romance's new single, "Nanananananana...etc...")
I have also fallen in love with this verse from that same song, "Let me tell you 'bout the sad man, shut up and let me see your jazz hands. Remember when you were a madman, thought you was batman? And you hit the party with a gas can, kiss me you animal!"
Sometimes you just feel like you would kill to have written something by someone else.
This is one of those times.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
My Life IS Actually Average
- last beverage? water
- last phone call? uhhhhhhh Natalie...
- last txt message? pretty sure it was Nat.. Nope. It was Adam.
- last song you listened to? wellll to be completely honest.... I was just listening to the Ting Tings. Yes... you can hate me, throw fruit at me, be ashamed of me, never talk to me again... as long as you keep reading my blog I really don't care.
- last time you cried? yesterday. I think. I honestly don't remember yesterday. I might have cried a little bit when I attempted to do the splits the other day. I ALMOST DID THEM!
HAVE YOU EVER:
- Dated someone twice? nooooope.
- been cheated on? no.
- kissed someone and regretted it? haha... wouldn't that be unfortunate? I can see regretting the timing, or the circumstance, or even the person... but to ever regret the actual kiss would be so sad...
- lost someone special? yes
- been depressed? yes. I wrote about it and I felt better.
- been drunk and threw up? i've never thrown up because I was drunk...
FIRST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
- Green
- Orange
- Purple
THIS YEAR, HAVE YOU:
- made a new friend? sure.
- fallen out of love? yeah. I became jaded on a lot of people and things this year.
- Laughed until you cried? this is a regular occurance in my life. I am incredibly lucky that way!
- Met someone who changed you? yes. :)
- Found out who your true friends are? you have no idea.
- Found out someone was talking about you? hahahah!.... yeah. Found out they were talking about me a LOT...;)
- kissed anyone on your friend's list? noooo.
- How many people on your friend's list do you know personally?.... that is a really good question. Not all of them.
- How many kids do you want to have? the right amount. Somewhere between "awww" and "AAARGH!!!!"
- Do you have pets? Nooo! I am desperately in want of a doggish companion... :(
- Do you want to change your name? "That's not mah name! That's not mah name!"... I told you. I TOLD you.
- What did you do for your last birthday? I went downtown with mum and Nat to Powell's and then met dad for dinner. That Pumpkin Cheesecake was to die for and I'm still dreaming about it.
- What time did you wake up today? 8:30 ish...
- What were you doing at midnight last night? I was sleeping. I wish I was sleeping now.
- name something you CANNOT wait for? I CANNOT wait to hear good music on the radio.
- what are you listening to right now? "Men Are All the Same" - The Used. The title caught my eye. It's.... well, it's The Used, so it's brilliant. But I'm not in the mood for something so intense and emotional. AHHH! ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS- MARIAH CAREY JUST CAME ON! WHOOOOO! :D
- Websites? Blogspot. Facebook. Netflix.
- eye color? hazel
- relationship status? I hate this term. It makes me feel cold, unreal, distant and objectified. I AM A PERSON. NOT A STATUS.
- favorite book? right now? One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss. Because I am JUST that childish at 12:16 in the morning.
- zodiac sign? sagittarius. I don't know which one that is. I want to say it's a goat. But I'm pretty sure capricorn is a goat. Maybe I'm the whale. I don't know if there is a whale, but that's what I feel like right now, so I'm just going to go with that. (read: self-pitying slur).
- Do you have a crush on someone? yes. He's eight. He's got beautiful brown eyes and his name is Benjamin Johnson. He is my Spider-Man, I am his Hannah Montanna. It has been that way since he was three years old. :)
- Primary school? homeschooooooooled. And the Hayes' house. :P
- Middle school? a whole lotta BS.
- colleges? none at the moment. I'm being one of those delinquent-types and taking a year off.
- hair color? brown
- Long or short?.... I'm sorry... There is no noun here?
- height? not tall. 5'3".... maybe.
- found a new pet peeve? yes. People come into work all the time, and when I tell them there's going to be a wait, they look at me like I'm the filth of the earth and then proceed to wave their ugly necks around in the air, seeking out some distant table in the back as if I have completely just lied to them and am selfishly hoarding tables so that narcissistic and self-satisfying people like themselves (Yes, that was you, creepy cannoli-obsessed man with douche bag hair) have to wait an unnecessary amount of time and starve nearly half-to-death before getting a table and a meal. I feel like they also think I'm going to spit in their pizza or something. Which is ridiculous. I wouldn't waste the saliva.
- what do you like about yourself? my ability to rant in well-scripted sentences.
- piercings? my ears.
- tattoos? I have many ideas...
- righty or lefty? can you say ambidextrous?.... i am fairly certain I misspelled that.
FIRSTS:
- first surgery? emergency appendectomy.
- first piercing? mah ears.
- first best friend? Rosie. She's the teddy bear my grandma gave to me when I was born and she was the defender of innocence and defeater of nightmares of my childhood days.
- first sport you joined? I joined a soccer league once....
- first vacation? uhhh first time I ever flew on a plane was to Dallas, TX for a friend's wedding. First bona fide vacation was Disneyland. :D
RIGHT NOW:
- sleeping? Are you mentally retarded?
- On the phone? NO.
- eating? I wish.
- drinking? sipping on my water that is about to vanish entirely...
- I'm about to? Throw my iPod against the wall for the absolute crap it insists on playing.
- listening to? Sexy Love - Ne Yo
- waiting for? dream state.
YOUR FUTURE:
- kids? yeah.... One named Jude, one named Atticus and one named Everett.
- marriage? Nope. I plan to birth all three of my sons out of wedlock.
- career? Won't need one. I'll be getting child support from my baby daddies and welfare from the government. who needs a job these days? I'll be living off foodstamps. My sons will be forced to commit crimes and join gangs and I will outlive all of them, except the one who is in prison for 25 to life...... I'm not sure how this turned into a political rant, but it's late so don't bother me about it.
WHICH IS BETTER:
- lips or eyes? Eyes.. (Cheesy line alert!!!:) "they are the windows to the soul, after all"..... (...Gag).
- hugs or kisses? hugs. Altho, I can think of several people I would like to get a kiss from. Is it weird that Jon Bon Jovi is one of them????? O.o
- shorter or taller? definitely taller. :)
- older or younger? definitely older.
- romantic or spontaneous? surprise me. Wait....
- nice boobs or a nice bum? Gotta say, I'm not a boob person, so I'm going to go for the nice bum. Always a plus.
- sensitive or loud? Who actually desires to be around someone loud? Like... there's lots of lovable people who happen to be loud, but they're not lovable BECAUSE they're loud. Who is into that? "Oh, washboard abs and a caring heart? Ppppsh!!! Who needs that? I want someone louder than a diesel-y garbage truck through an open window on a saturday morning! Ohhh Yeahhhhh.." Like seriously? Ew.
- hook-up or relationship? relationship.
- trouble-maker or hesitant? ..........well.... I'm hesitant enough. so, let's go with someone who likes to have fun. regardless of the consequences. :D
HAVE YOU EVER:
- kissed a stranger? I'm not going to lie: I have always wanted to do this. It is on my bucket list. I will probably never work up the guts to do it.
- drank hard liquor? yes
- lost glasses/contacts? I lose my glasses frequently.... I'm afraid one day they're going to get up and walk away because they don't feel loved.....
- danced in the rain? yes.
- broken somebody's heart? I don't know... I hope not.
- had your own heart broken? Yes.... The incident that happened the other day involving the spilled cup of cocoa was particularly heartbreaking.
- won a bet? Yes. :)
- turned someone down?Yes
- cried when someone died? I'm not heartless. I bawled for days after MJ died.
- fallen for a friend? This is woman's biggest flaw.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
- yourself? Celine Dion has taught me no other way than this.
- miracles? "YOU SEXY THING!!!".... Please tell me everybody understands this song reference?
- love at first sight? No. Well. I don't know. Not really.
- heaven? Yes.
- santa clause? Every legend is born from some truth......:)
- kiss on a first date? awww helllll nah! Shawty don't put out fah nobody!... Horrible and pathetic attempt at having a shred of culture: check.
- angels? Yes.
ANSWER TRUTHFULLY
- done something terribly embarrassing? My life is embarrassing.
- had more than one girlfriend/boyfriend at a time? no.
- did you sing today? Yes. very out of tune, too.
- ever cheated on somebody? Nope.
- if you could go back in time how far would you go? Pretty much as far back as the British Invasion. So.... 1961? .....
- do you like bananas? Not as much as I like this QUESTION ABOUT BANANAS!
- are you afraid of falling in love? Isn't everybody a little bit afraid of falling in love? Unless it was to be with Sam Worthington. Then I wouldn't be afraid. Oh no. Not at all.
- posting this as "100 truths"? No. That is dumb. I might not have a life, but I'm not dumb.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
A Non-Exaggeration.
It was 8 PM tonight, and I was going to make myself some cocoa, paint my toenails, and go to bed early because I've had a splitting headache all day long.
I was sitting there on my bathroom counter, painting my toenails a sparkly shade of dark purple, and listening to Celine Dion because it has indubitably been one of those days when the only thing that makes honest sense is to drown yourself in a lack-of-sleep-induced Celine Dion comatose.
I think I've heard Only One Road 8 times today. I'm not exaggerating.
Anyways, I was sitting there, wriggling my toes around in an effort to dry them, and slowly sipping on a delicious cup of hot cocoa.
There's a delirious sort of magic about cocoa that I haven't quite figured out yet. It sort of muddles together all conscious thought and feeling into one giant mess of comfort and a incredible desire, nay, need of two things: to revert to childhood, or to be cuddled in a way that is unrivalled by any cuddle you've had before in your life.
Like I said, I don't pretend to understand it. That's just how it is.
It completely envelops you, and at the same time, leaves you feeling so incredibly hollow and empty, it's almost unbearable. Until, that is, you take the next sip and then you're overcome in an overwhelming haze of bliss and liquid, chocolatey perfection.
When you're having one of these days, when you depend solely on a cup of cocoa for imminent survival, the last thing on earth that you could possibly handle would be to somehow lose that single cup of cocoa.
Guess what happened to me?
In a twisted, contorted sort of effort to reach behind me and grab my ipod dock to set on my lap so I could switch the song, I clumsily knocked over my steaming cup of happiness and spilled it all over the bathroom counter.
I'm surprised I didn't burst into a fountain of tired tears right then.
No, instead I said a few choice words, shook my head in angry disbelief and jerkily started to clean it up with tense, frustrated movements. That was the last chance at comfort I had before I planned to sleep away my day of screaming headaches and pre-meditated muteness!!! And no, of course I was not about to go down and make myself another cup. First of all, I didn't want a WHOLE new cup of cocoa. I had drank half of that and was only wanting another half a cup. Second of all, I didn't want any OTHER half-cup of cocoa, I wanted THAT one, the one that was currently flowing in a torrent over the bathroom counter tile and into a pool at the bottom of the porcelain sink. Cursing the world and, in turn, every single belligerent cup of cocoa out there, I switched off the bathroom light, grabbed the ipod and stomped my way into my room; pausing my pity-party fit only to pick a song that I felt was worthy enough to witness my childish tantrum, I parked my butt in my deskchair and proceeded straight here.
With Bon Jovi's "Lie to Me" playing on repeat for the 7th time.
..... 8th time.
And now, I'm tired and upset and cocoa-less and my headache is still pounding against my temple mercilessly.
At least my toes look cute.
I was sitting there on my bathroom counter, painting my toenails a sparkly shade of dark purple, and listening to Celine Dion because it has indubitably been one of those days when the only thing that makes honest sense is to drown yourself in a lack-of-sleep-induced Celine Dion comatose.
I think I've heard Only One Road 8 times today. I'm not exaggerating.
Anyways, I was sitting there, wriggling my toes around in an effort to dry them, and slowly sipping on a delicious cup of hot cocoa.
There's a delirious sort of magic about cocoa that I haven't quite figured out yet. It sort of muddles together all conscious thought and feeling into one giant mess of comfort and a incredible desire, nay, need of two things: to revert to childhood, or to be cuddled in a way that is unrivalled by any cuddle you've had before in your life.
Like I said, I don't pretend to understand it. That's just how it is.
It completely envelops you, and at the same time, leaves you feeling so incredibly hollow and empty, it's almost unbearable. Until, that is, you take the next sip and then you're overcome in an overwhelming haze of bliss and liquid, chocolatey perfection.
When you're having one of these days, when you depend solely on a cup of cocoa for imminent survival, the last thing on earth that you could possibly handle would be to somehow lose that single cup of cocoa.
Guess what happened to me?
In a twisted, contorted sort of effort to reach behind me and grab my ipod dock to set on my lap so I could switch the song, I clumsily knocked over my steaming cup of happiness and spilled it all over the bathroom counter.
I'm surprised I didn't burst into a fountain of tired tears right then.
No, instead I said a few choice words, shook my head in angry disbelief and jerkily started to clean it up with tense, frustrated movements. That was the last chance at comfort I had before I planned to sleep away my day of screaming headaches and pre-meditated muteness!!! And no, of course I was not about to go down and make myself another cup. First of all, I didn't want a WHOLE new cup of cocoa. I had drank half of that and was only wanting another half a cup. Second of all, I didn't want any OTHER half-cup of cocoa, I wanted THAT one, the one that was currently flowing in a torrent over the bathroom counter tile and into a pool at the bottom of the porcelain sink. Cursing the world and, in turn, every single belligerent cup of cocoa out there, I switched off the bathroom light, grabbed the ipod and stomped my way into my room; pausing my pity-party fit only to pick a song that I felt was worthy enough to witness my childish tantrum, I parked my butt in my deskchair and proceeded straight here.
With Bon Jovi's "Lie to Me" playing on repeat for the 7th time.
..... 8th time.
And now, I'm tired and upset and cocoa-less and my headache is still pounding against my temple mercilessly.
At least my toes look cute.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I Love College Love Me Do I Love You
Do you remember the song I Love College by Asher Roth?
Yeah. I just spent the entire 4 minutes of that song lying on the floor of my bedroom staring up at the star-shaped paper lantern that I got from IKEA.
I'm so enlightened by that experience.
"....Where is my life going?"
Yeah. Exactly.
So, my cousin bought me this amazing coffee mug from New York as my graduation present a few months ago. It's a Beatles collector's item, or something like that. It's black and with big red letters it says, "ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE" on the front. Alternating in grey and charcoal shades all around the sides of the mug, it repeats in different sizes and fonts "Can't Buy Me Love," "Love Me Do," "She Loves You" and "All You Need Is Love" . My absolute favorite part about this mug, however, is that on the inside lip, three words are printed in perfect, red ink: Love Me Do.
It's almost a challenge to me everytime I raise it to my lips.
Love Me Do.
Gaaaaahhhh! It blows my mind everytime. Inspiration can strike you everywhere, you know. Even in the simplest of coffee mugs.
Inspiration has also struck me here, in the simplest of photographs.
Yeah. I just spent the entire 4 minutes of that song lying on the floor of my bedroom staring up at the star-shaped paper lantern that I got from IKEA.
I'm so enlightened by that experience.
"....Where is my life going?"
Yeah. Exactly.
So, my cousin bought me this amazing coffee mug from New York as my graduation present a few months ago. It's a Beatles collector's item, or something like that. It's black and with big red letters it says, "ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE" on the front. Alternating in grey and charcoal shades all around the sides of the mug, it repeats in different sizes and fonts "Can't Buy Me Love," "Love Me Do," "She Loves You" and "All You Need Is Love" . My absolute favorite part about this mug, however, is that on the inside lip, three words are printed in perfect, red ink: Love Me Do.
It's almost a challenge to me everytime I raise it to my lips.
Love Me Do.
Gaaaaahhhh! It blows my mind everytime. Inspiration can strike you everywhere, you know. Even in the simplest of coffee mugs.
Inspiration has also struck me here, in the simplest of photographs.
I'm writing a new short story. It was completely inspired by this picture, and I'm not sure why. Something about it screamed: "WRITE ME!" and I was compelled to acquiesce.
To a writer, everything has a story. People have stories, memories have stories, paintings, photographs, music, buildings, cars, businesses, etc. Everything has a story, but not every story demands to be written. The ones that pull you so intently that you can't bring yourself to look away, however, those are the ones that you have to obey.
Those stories are where inspiration is born.
You never know where it's going to happen, but when it does, it's magic.
:)
In other news:
You all should go check out the funniest blog in existance.
http://www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
I almost pee my pants every single post.
It's the pictures. They're hilarious.
Well, that's about all I had to say tonight.
Oh, except for I learned to say 'I love you' in Irish the other day and I was really excited about it.
:D
The end.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Running, Capt. Wentworth, and Lyric of the Week
I am so in love with running.
I realized this today as I was walking the last block in to my house after pounding the hell out of two miles. Nothing beats that feeling of unbridled power. Or the swagger you get after the run's over and the sound of Rihanna's Rude Boy is pulsing provocatively in your ears. It's like the ultimate power stance, the ultimate cardio high. Ahhhh I love it so much!!!!!
Running releases so much tension for me. It's like the ultimate de-stressor, I feel like I could go for miles and miles and miles and never get enough.
___________________________________________________
I just finished Persuasion. A sense of dignified accomplishment occupies my existance, and a quiet thread of inspiration is winding its way through the muddled thoughts of my brain.
Captain Wentworth is lovely, but of course, incomparable to Mr. Knightley.
That's mostly all I got from the book. It was beautifully written, and I'm excited to discuss it with the book club on Sunday evening, but nonetheless, I felt like Anne was far too quiet and complacent for my liking, Lady Russell could have done with a nice, long vacation somewhere far, far, FAR away, Sir Walter deserved a comeuppance and Charles Musgrove was the true hero of the novel for constantly putting up with and being devoted to Mary.
___________________________________________________
Lyric of the week:
"you scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot. Happy Christmas my arse, I pray God it's our last."
The Irish have an impeccable way with words.
:)
I realized this today as I was walking the last block in to my house after pounding the hell out of two miles. Nothing beats that feeling of unbridled power. Or the swagger you get after the run's over and the sound of Rihanna's Rude Boy is pulsing provocatively in your ears. It's like the ultimate power stance, the ultimate cardio high. Ahhhh I love it so much!!!!!
Running releases so much tension for me. It's like the ultimate de-stressor, I feel like I could go for miles and miles and miles and never get enough.
___________________________________________________
I just finished Persuasion. A sense of dignified accomplishment occupies my existance, and a quiet thread of inspiration is winding its way through the muddled thoughts of my brain.
Captain Wentworth is lovely, but of course, incomparable to Mr. Knightley.
That's mostly all I got from the book. It was beautifully written, and I'm excited to discuss it with the book club on Sunday evening, but nonetheless, I felt like Anne was far too quiet and complacent for my liking, Lady Russell could have done with a nice, long vacation somewhere far, far, FAR away, Sir Walter deserved a comeuppance and Charles Musgrove was the true hero of the novel for constantly putting up with and being devoted to Mary.
___________________________________________________
Lyric of the week:
"you scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot. Happy Christmas my arse, I pray God it's our last."
The Irish have an impeccable way with words.
:)
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Today
I woke up at 4:30 this morning to put my sister and niece on a plane back to Florida after a two-week visit.
I cried and cried and cried all day long yesterday and this morning and now it is 2:15 in the afternoon and I'm simply too tired to cry anymore.
Everytime someone I love comes and goes in my life, I ask myself why on earth do I want to move so far away from home?
Everytime someone I love comes and goes in my life, I ask myself why on earth do I want to move so far away from home?
Then I realize the real reason. If you aren't the one to leave in the first place, you're always going to be the one left behind. At least if you're the one who is leaving, you have something to look forward to whether you're visiting your family or going home to your life.
I do, however, refuse to believe that goodbyes only get easier. They don't.
Goodbyes are the worst part of life, and they're inescapable.
How fatally depressing is that?
How fatally depressing is that?
I guess if you never get the chance to say goodbye to someone, you never really get the chance to show them how much you care. But it still sucks.
After we left the airport, we went to breakfast. 7 AM is undoubtedly the earliest I have ever been seated at a restaurant awaiting my food. I was only reminded once again of the healing power of pancakes and hashbrowns and a strong cup of coffee. I really truly believe I've found the secret to life, here. I can't even imagine what a rainy morning at the coast would do if you added it to the equation. Imagine being tucked up in a sleepy beach house with pancakes on the griddle, and a steaming mug in your hands, raindrops meeting waves outside your windows, Brandi Carlile in the background. Oh, the healing power of simplicity.
I can't wait for the day when that will be my life. I've thought about it so much, it feels like a memory.
I'm going to see this when I look out my window, someday.
And I'm going to see this on my way to work, someday.
And this? This is going to feel like home, someday.
It's all going to be part of my story, someday.
My own story.
My home, my writing, my Donegal. My life, my song, my joy. My heartache, my homesickness, my laughter.
One of my favorite Brandi Carlile songs (which I've been heavily overdosing on the past 24 hours) is Before it Breaks. I wish I could share just one line and leave it at that, but it can't be done. The whole sung must be shared. Anyways, it reminds me of today, and it reminds me of my own story and my life to come, in Ireland, by the sea, writing and living and stumbling and laughing and loving my way through the pages of life.
Around here, it's the hardest time of year
Waking up, the days are even gone
The collar of my coat, Lord help me, cannot help the cold
The raindrops sting my eyes, I keep them closed
But I'm feelin' no pain
I'm a little lonely and my quietest friend
Have I the moonlight? Have I let you in?
Say it ain't so, say I'm happy again
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
Say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry, I can take it
Say you'll wait, say you won't
Say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
Let it bend before it breaks
I'm alright, don't I seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars? Don't I wear them on my sleeves?
Went looking for a crossroads, it happens everyday
And whichever way you turn, I'm gonna turn the other way
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yY3blVKAlyY
I'm learning to let it bend before it breaks.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Super Duper Love (Are You Diggin' On Me?)- Joss Stone
I just remembered this exercise my teacher had us do in our psychology class last year.
Every morning we had to write 5 things we were thankful for.
It was a good exercise, and on days like today when I don't really feel thankful for anything, it's a good reminder of all that I am lucky enough to have.
Today, I am thankful for the 17 Joss Stone songs on my iPod.
I am thankful for the blue sky and red leaves outside.
I am thankful for Eucalyptus Spearmint stress-relief lotion.
I am thankful for the sound of my neice laughing.
I am thankful for my beautiful bedset from IKEA.
I'm trying really hard to improve my mood today.
I hope it works.
Every morning we had to write 5 things we were thankful for.
It was a good exercise, and on days like today when I don't really feel thankful for anything, it's a good reminder of all that I am lucky enough to have.
Today, I am thankful for the 17 Joss Stone songs on my iPod.
I am thankful for the blue sky and red leaves outside.
I am thankful for Eucalyptus Spearmint stress-relief lotion.
I am thankful for the sound of my neice laughing.
I am thankful for my beautiful bedset from IKEA.
I'm trying really hard to improve my mood today.
I hope it works.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Letter to Juliet
I just watched the movie Letters to Juliet for the first time. Gotta say, I really wasn't that impressed. It was too easy to predict what would happen and the characters were badly developed. I was disappointed, because I love the idea of the plot, though. Or at least the bit about writing letters to Juliet.
People really do that! I just googled it.
I think it's fantastic....
I think it's fantastic....
Granted, I never really liked Romeo and Juliet, but the romance involved in the idea of writing a letter to Love's most famous female and receiving a reply is, admittedly, too tempting to refuse.
I guess it really doesn't even have anything to do with being a romantic. Forget the entire Juliet part. People could be writing letters to Katherine of Aragon or St. Isabel of Castillo for all I care. It's just the idea that people have enough faith to believe they can tell someone long dead their stories, whatever they involve, and that there's a team of people who care enough about the world to take the time to respond to every single letter. I think it shows just how wonderful humanity can be.
Yes, we are a sinful people, and yes, we are a fallen world.
But God has given us enough grace, and an innumerable amount of chances, to try and redeem our faults. And when I hear a story like that, the story of writing letters to Juliet and undoubtedly receiving a response from one of her faithful secretaries, I realize that there is some good left in the world.
There are still people out there trying to make the most of the second, third, fourth, etc. chances that God has bestowed upon us. These secretaries of Juliet are angels. They're giving people who don't feel like they have anyone to talk to the chance to be heard and comforted. Validated. Received. Accepted.
There are still people out there trying to make the most of the second, third, fourth, etc. chances that God has bestowed upon us. These secretaries of Juliet are angels. They're giving people who don't feel like they have anyone to talk to the chance to be heard and comforted. Validated. Received. Accepted.
What a beautiful way to use the gift of words, and the gift of understanding.
Someday, in my wild abandon and farfetched travels, I will make a pilgrimage to fair Verona, and spend the afternoon in the courtyard of the Casa di Giulietta. I will write my own letter, tape it to the wall, and hope wildly that the reply will come soon.
And when it does, I'll give thanks to God for the beautiful world we live in, and for the chance to be a part of something so beautiful and so precious.
Shaking out the glitter....
I'm learning things.
Everyday.
Yesterday I learned that fried plantains are delicious, and people from Cuba have wonderful smiles.
I also learned that section A120 is the best place at the Rose Garden to sit for Celtic Thunder-sized events, and how it's not what you experience, but who you experience it with that makes all the genuine difference in the world.
Last night was a fairytale.
It kind of seems like a dream, really. I keep thinking today, "did all of that really happen?"
It did happen, and it was wonderful.
The concert was phenomenal! I'm so glad I was able to go, and that I was able to go with my dearest friend Natalie. Before the concert we went to dinner at Pambiche, a delicious and authentic Cuban restaurant on 28th and Glisan.
It was heavenly! I can't wait to go back and eat there again.
I had Croquetas (deep fried codfish and potato wedges served over a cilantro, carrot and red onion salad) and Pollo Frito (creole fried chicken served with garlic mojo sauce). Not to mention this incredible avocado salad in a sour orange dressing and the best durn cup of Mexican hot cocoa you could ever have......
I think I was honestly more excited about the food than the concert. It was to die for!
I've been moving really slowly all day, though. All the excitement, the clapping, the bagpipes, avocados and extreme anticipation kind of wore me out.
I feel like I overdosed on glamour, Cuban food and Irish music.
I'm having troubles shaking the pounding drums and weeping violins from my ears, and wiping the glitter from my tired eyes.
Is it weird that a song you've never heard before can remind you of a place you've never seen?
Is it weird that this place you've never seen feels more like home than the place you've grown up in?
That a culture and a language and a landscape all completely foreign to your ears and eyes can seem so familiar to your heart?
Hmmm..... These are the kind of thoughts rattling around in my head this afternoon.
Today, I'm learning the importance of a patient heart and a treasured dream.
I also learned that there are ways to make vanilla misos, which are the closest things to vanilla soy lattes that you can get without using an espresso maker.
Having an ex-Starbucks barista for a sister has its perks. :)
I'm also learning to never underestimate the power of a good Disney movie, like The Jungle Book.
And so, with these important life lessons learned, and now shared, I leave you.
P.S.
I went with the boots last night.
Definitely the wisest choice.
They looked fab and were super comfortable.
:)
Everyday.
Yesterday I learned that fried plantains are delicious, and people from Cuba have wonderful smiles.
I also learned that section A120 is the best place at the Rose Garden to sit for Celtic Thunder-sized events, and how it's not what you experience, but who you experience it with that makes all the genuine difference in the world.
Last night was a fairytale.
It kind of seems like a dream, really. I keep thinking today, "did all of that really happen?"
It did happen, and it was wonderful.
The concert was phenomenal! I'm so glad I was able to go, and that I was able to go with my dearest friend Natalie. Before the concert we went to dinner at Pambiche, a delicious and authentic Cuban restaurant on 28th and Glisan.
It was heavenly! I can't wait to go back and eat there again.
I had Croquetas (deep fried codfish and potato wedges served over a cilantro, carrot and red onion salad) and Pollo Frito (creole fried chicken served with garlic mojo sauce). Not to mention this incredible avocado salad in a sour orange dressing and the best durn cup of Mexican hot cocoa you could ever have......
I think I was honestly more excited about the food than the concert. It was to die for!
I've been moving really slowly all day, though. All the excitement, the clapping, the bagpipes, avocados and extreme anticipation kind of wore me out.
I feel like I overdosed on glamour, Cuban food and Irish music.
I'm having troubles shaking the pounding drums and weeping violins from my ears, and wiping the glitter from my tired eyes.
Is it weird that a song you've never heard before can remind you of a place you've never seen?
Is it weird that this place you've never seen feels more like home than the place you've grown up in?
That a culture and a language and a landscape all completely foreign to your ears and eyes can seem so familiar to your heart?
Hmmm..... These are the kind of thoughts rattling around in my head this afternoon.
Today, I'm learning the importance of a patient heart and a treasured dream.
I also learned that there are ways to make vanilla misos, which are the closest things to vanilla soy lattes that you can get without using an espresso maker.
Having an ex-Starbucks barista for a sister has its perks. :)
I'm also learning to never underestimate the power of a good Disney movie, like The Jungle Book.
And so, with these important life lessons learned, and now shared, I leave you.
P.S.
I went with the boots last night.
Definitely the wisest choice.
They looked fab and were super comfortable.
:)
Sunday, October 31, 2010
THE Dress
I just got ungodly excited because it has finally hit me(after five long months of waiting) that tomorrow night I'm going to see Celtic Thunder live in concert.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I found this picture on the internet. That face is akin to the face I have been making for the past hour and a half as I rushed around my room trying to figure out what on EARTH I was going to wear.
I like this picture. It makes me laugh.
Anyways.
My fashion dilemma.
So, for the past week, I've known exactly what I wanted to wear to the extravaganza (Yes, that is what I am referring to it as) tomorrow. It was perfect, too.
I have this glorious silk wrap top in a navy blue that I pair with a lovely lace camisole. The wrap part is made of sheer ribbon and it ties in a beautiful bow on the side. The short, cropped sleeves have those delicious teeny-tiny old-fashioned fabric buttons on them for a retro vintage sort of look.
Gorgeous.
I was going to finish it off with my favorite pair of dark denim, hug-your-curves, straight-legged jeans that I like to wear when I need a shallow ego boost and my favorite pair of patent leather, four-inch, peep-toe heels.
Classy, with a little bit of sexy thrown in for kicks, right?
Wrong!
I decided to try the outfit on tonight, just to be sure, even though I was confident it would look great. Confidence is attractive. Over-confidence is deadly.
Did it matter that I hadn't worn this special top in over two years? No.
Did it matter that I bought that pretty camisole when I was shorter, and a fair bit less bustier? Of course not!
And what about those high heels that I've never worn with those particular jeans, and have no idea what the heighth of the heel is going to do to the length of the hem? Pppsh, forget about it! No problems.
Yes, problems.
Lots of problems.
The shirt's too short, the camisole is way too tight, the girls are poppin' out and the length of the jeans looks HORRIBLE with the heels.
NOT TO MENTION the fact that I had a few peices of halloween candy and a few handfuls of doritos this afternoon and even though I ran 3.89 MILES today, I can't get the stinking pants to button.To BUTTON, for goodness sakes!
You have NO idea what that does to an inflated ego.
Phizzle..... Phizzle.... Ph.....izzle......phizzzzzzzzz........
*sound of my inflated ego dying FAST and being replaced with HUGE waves of "I'M SOOO FAAAATTTTTT!" and increased panicking as "freak mode" begins to take over*
Yeah, kind of like that...
So anyways, mild hysteria sets in. My sweet, pretty, relaxed and comfortable room becomes an evil, ugly, embattled warzone of clothes, hangers and shoes. Not pretty... and fairly dangerous, if you have bad ankles and a hellish heeled boot is lurking nearby under an innocent-looking cardigan sweater.
I try EVERYTHING. And I mean EVERYTHING. Other shiny, glittering tops, cardigans, tunics, shoes, etc.
But I am hellbent to wear those pants. All week I've been picturing that outfit in my head, barely containing my excitement to wear it and go out for a night on the town with my best friend! To eat Cuban food in those jeans, to take a jaunt on a city-lit street at night in those jeans, to cross my legs in uncontrollable excitement as those gorgeous voices reach my eager ears in THOSE jeans!
And then, just as everything seems lost and I look around my torn and battered room in ultimate defeat, nightmarish visions of myself wearing something similar to a gunny-sack to the concert, paired with corn husk shoes and streaming makeup haunting my every move as I start to circle the room, less panicked more focused, completely at a loss for what to wear.... it hits me.
The dress.
THE dress.
Not my favorite dress, and not the most stunning dress I own, but it's the best and closest thing to a clothing item soul mate that I will ever have.
I'm telling you, I have had this particular black dress (I own several. Don't give me that look. You know you do too.) for a long time. Like, almost five years, and it has saved my butt on more than one or two occasions.
It's a simple black dress, v-necked, ties in the back with capped sleeves and an elegant, but in an understated -sort- of -way skirt.
It's perfect, is what it is.
Tired, and battleworn, I reach to the very back of my closet and pull it off the hanger. (It's now one of the very few items left still on hangers).
Curiously, and with bated breath I slip it on over my head, grab a pair of simple black leggings from my drawer to dress it down, and take a look in the mirror.
A huge sigh of relief escapes. I lunge for my trusty pair of slouchy, fake-leather, almost-cowboy-style-but-really-more-pirate-ish black boots and slip them on over the leggings.
A smile breaks out and dances for joy on my face. The search is over.
Renewed and excited, I kick off the boots and try my favorite pair of red patent- leather pumps. Steve Madden. Nordstrom's knock-off... Every girl should own a pair.
AH! Even better. Now I have TWO options! TWO completely different looks, and TWO more reasons to thank Heaven above for that absolute, life-saving blessing of a simple black dress.
No gunny sacks, NO corn husk shoes, no feeling too fat squeezing into tight jeans with a half-hearted attempt at throwing together a frumpy lace camisole and a black cardigan on top, and best of all, no second-guessing every second how I look.
Confidence, and reliability, are wonderful things. And when you're confident because you're relying on something that has proven time and again to pass with shining colors and victorious fanfare, etc., nothing can bring you down.
Nothing.
Especially when you're feeling so confidant and relying on something SO wonderful because you're seeing these five delicious Irishmen (and one Scotsman) live in concert and the simple satisfaction that you know you look great is all you need to complete your proverbial "I could die happy" moment.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I found this picture on the internet. That face is akin to the face I have been making for the past hour and a half as I rushed around my room trying to figure out what on EARTH I was going to wear.
I like this picture. It makes me laugh.
Anyways.
My fashion dilemma.
So, for the past week, I've known exactly what I wanted to wear to the extravaganza (Yes, that is what I am referring to it as) tomorrow. It was perfect, too.
I have this glorious silk wrap top in a navy blue that I pair with a lovely lace camisole. The wrap part is made of sheer ribbon and it ties in a beautiful bow on the side. The short, cropped sleeves have those delicious teeny-tiny old-fashioned fabric buttons on them for a retro vintage sort of look.
Gorgeous.
I was going to finish it off with my favorite pair of dark denim, hug-your-curves, straight-legged jeans that I like to wear when I need a shallow ego boost and my favorite pair of patent leather, four-inch, peep-toe heels.
Classy, with a little bit of sexy thrown in for kicks, right?
Wrong!
I decided to try the outfit on tonight, just to be sure, even though I was confident it would look great. Confidence is attractive. Over-confidence is deadly.
Did it matter that I hadn't worn this special top in over two years? No.
Did it matter that I bought that pretty camisole when I was shorter, and a fair bit less bustier? Of course not!
And what about those high heels that I've never worn with those particular jeans, and have no idea what the heighth of the heel is going to do to the length of the hem? Pppsh, forget about it! No problems.
Yes, problems.
Lots of problems.
The shirt's too short, the camisole is way too tight, the girls are poppin' out and the length of the jeans looks HORRIBLE with the heels.
NOT TO MENTION the fact that I had a few peices of halloween candy and a few handfuls of doritos this afternoon and even though I ran 3.89 MILES today, I can't get the stinking pants to button.To BUTTON, for goodness sakes!
You have NO idea what that does to an inflated ego.
Phizzle..... Phizzle.... Ph.....izzle......phizzzzzzzzz........
*sound of my inflated ego dying FAST and being replaced with HUGE waves of "I'M SOOO FAAAATTTTTT!" and increased panicking as "freak mode" begins to take over*
Yeah, kind of like that...
So anyways, mild hysteria sets in. My sweet, pretty, relaxed and comfortable room becomes an evil, ugly, embattled warzone of clothes, hangers and shoes. Not pretty... and fairly dangerous, if you have bad ankles and a hellish heeled boot is lurking nearby under an innocent-looking cardigan sweater.
I try EVERYTHING. And I mean EVERYTHING. Other shiny, glittering tops, cardigans, tunics, shoes, etc.
But I am hellbent to wear those pants. All week I've been picturing that outfit in my head, barely containing my excitement to wear it and go out for a night on the town with my best friend! To eat Cuban food in those jeans, to take a jaunt on a city-lit street at night in those jeans, to cross my legs in uncontrollable excitement as those gorgeous voices reach my eager ears in THOSE jeans!
And then, just as everything seems lost and I look around my torn and battered room in ultimate defeat, nightmarish visions of myself wearing something similar to a gunny-sack to the concert, paired with corn husk shoes and streaming makeup haunting my every move as I start to circle the room, less panicked more focused, completely at a loss for what to wear.... it hits me.
The dress.
THE dress.
Not my favorite dress, and not the most stunning dress I own, but it's the best and closest thing to a clothing item soul mate that I will ever have.
I'm telling you, I have had this particular black dress (I own several. Don't give me that look. You know you do too.) for a long time. Like, almost five years, and it has saved my butt on more than one or two occasions.
It's a simple black dress, v-necked, ties in the back with capped sleeves and an elegant, but in an understated -sort- of -way skirt.
It's perfect, is what it is.
Tired, and battleworn, I reach to the very back of my closet and pull it off the hanger. (It's now one of the very few items left still on hangers).
Curiously, and with bated breath I slip it on over my head, grab a pair of simple black leggings from my drawer to dress it down, and take a look in the mirror.
A huge sigh of relief escapes. I lunge for my trusty pair of slouchy, fake-leather, almost-cowboy-style-but-really-more-pirate-ish black boots and slip them on over the leggings.
A smile breaks out and dances for joy on my face. The search is over.
Renewed and excited, I kick off the boots and try my favorite pair of red patent- leather pumps. Steve Madden. Nordstrom's knock-off... Every girl should own a pair.
AH! Even better. Now I have TWO options! TWO completely different looks, and TWO more reasons to thank Heaven above for that absolute, life-saving blessing of a simple black dress.
No gunny sacks, NO corn husk shoes, no feeling too fat squeezing into tight jeans with a half-hearted attempt at throwing together a frumpy lace camisole and a black cardigan on top, and best of all, no second-guessing every second how I look.
Confidence, and reliability, are wonderful things. And when you're confident because you're relying on something that has proven time and again to pass with shining colors and victorious fanfare, etc., nothing can bring you down.
Nothing.
Especially when you're feeling so confidant and relying on something SO wonderful because you're seeing these five delicious Irishmen (and one Scotsman) live in concert and the simple satisfaction that you know you look great is all you need to complete your proverbial "I could die happy" moment.
Especially the blonde one.
Only the blonde one, actually. Forget the rest.
Ahhh.
Yes.
So the adventure of finding the perfect outfit is over, thank God, and now I can sleep easy knowing tomorrow will be one of the funnest nights of my life, in one of the greatest dresses any woman could ever own.
Life is beautiful.
Goodnight.
Varying Degrees of Evil
This is the third day in a row I've felt compelled to update my blog. More importantly, this is the third day in a row I've been inspired to sit down and write. This makes me happy, and in turn, I have the desire to write about that too.
Life is beautiful today!
Side note: Doritos are evil. Especially ones of the nacho cheese persuasion. zzzxx.
(That was my neice's contribution. She's 2 and she loves laptops. I just spent the last 25 minutes in a diehard attempt to keep her away from my keyboard. She's currently sitting on Grandma's lap at the computer desk in the office, playing with a calculator. Go figure. :P )
I digress.
In other news: I ran 3.89 miles today, and my inflated ego is swaggering around under the impression that I deserve some sort of special treatment for my accomplishment. I'm going to let you in on a little secret about myself: I have the horrible tendency to think I'm incredibly awesome. It's a pride thing, and it's no good. But at least I'm never too hard on myself! There's a bright side to everything.
I will always be an eternal optimist. Especially when it comes to recognizing my own faults. ;)
Ack. I digress yet again.
I do that often.
I'm sitting in a lovely armchair by the window downstairs, and I decided to warm up my writing mind by blogging a little before I get some more serious work done on my novel.
I brought a fairly weighty stack of books with me, for inspiration, should it be hard to come by naturally.
First and foremost, I have my belove copy of The Bell Jar front and center, just within grabbing reach.
It's like my inspiration Bible this time around. I think it's because it has a similar sort of theme as my own story, which I have officially decided to call Tulips For Breakfast.
I think it has a pretty sort of ring to it.
Along with Sylvia Plath's magnum opus, I have A Streetcar Named Desire (and four more plays by Tennessee Williams), Nine Stories and Catcher in the Rye, my Emily Dickinson book of poems, and my trusty handbook of Edgar Allan Poe.
And a copy of Roget's Thesaurus, for good luck.
It should be happy writing, tonight!
Except, I'm just now realizing that it's Halloween, and I'm in charge of answering the door for trick or treaters tonight..... Not to mention my sister and I are here with a small child, watching Finding Nemo..........
Well... It was a nice thought, anyway.
I'm actually looking forward somewhat to handing out candy. Some of the little kids are so cute, in their infant-sized dinosaur and ladybug costumes.
It is kind of a weird night though, Halloween.
I'm not sure if it's all the cultural hype and timeless mythical lore surrounding All Hallow's Eve, but something in the air always puts me a little bit on edge.
I think I've seen a few too many horror films.
Although, according to Professor Giles, the resident librarian and ultimate source of knowledge on all things creepy and evil (as pertaining to Buffy the Vampire Slayer) says that Halloween is a relatively dead night (no pun intended) for the undead and icky.
I was just suddenly made so painfully aware of how nerdy I am.
....
The coolest little boys just came to the door.
One was dressed as Indiana Jones (complete with magic marker facial hair) and his friend was a Jedi.
Boys after my own dear heart.
The doorbell is now ringing too much for me to form complete thoughts anymore, time to end this post early.
Until next time....
Xx
Life is beautiful today!
Side note: Doritos are evil. Especially ones of the nacho cheese persuasion. zzzxx.
(That was my neice's contribution. She's 2 and she loves laptops. I just spent the last 25 minutes in a diehard attempt to keep her away from my keyboard. She's currently sitting on Grandma's lap at the computer desk in the office, playing with a calculator. Go figure. :P )
I digress.
In other news: I ran 3.89 miles today, and my inflated ego is swaggering around under the impression that I deserve some sort of special treatment for my accomplishment. I'm going to let you in on a little secret about myself: I have the horrible tendency to think I'm incredibly awesome. It's a pride thing, and it's no good. But at least I'm never too hard on myself! There's a bright side to everything.
I will always be an eternal optimist. Especially when it comes to recognizing my own faults. ;)
Ack. I digress yet again.
I do that often.
I'm sitting in a lovely armchair by the window downstairs, and I decided to warm up my writing mind by blogging a little before I get some more serious work done on my novel.
I brought a fairly weighty stack of books with me, for inspiration, should it be hard to come by naturally.
First and foremost, I have my belove copy of The Bell Jar front and center, just within grabbing reach.
It's like my inspiration Bible this time around. I think it's because it has a similar sort of theme as my own story, which I have officially decided to call Tulips For Breakfast.
I think it has a pretty sort of ring to it.
Along with Sylvia Plath's magnum opus, I have A Streetcar Named Desire (and four more plays by Tennessee Williams), Nine Stories and Catcher in the Rye, my Emily Dickinson book of poems, and my trusty handbook of Edgar Allan Poe.
And a copy of Roget's Thesaurus, for good luck.
It should be happy writing, tonight!
Except, I'm just now realizing that it's Halloween, and I'm in charge of answering the door for trick or treaters tonight..... Not to mention my sister and I are here with a small child, watching Finding Nemo..........
Well... It was a nice thought, anyway.
I'm actually looking forward somewhat to handing out candy. Some of the little kids are so cute, in their infant-sized dinosaur and ladybug costumes.
It is kind of a weird night though, Halloween.
I'm not sure if it's all the cultural hype and timeless mythical lore surrounding All Hallow's Eve, but something in the air always puts me a little bit on edge.
I think I've seen a few too many horror films.
Although, according to Professor Giles, the resident librarian and ultimate source of knowledge on all things creepy and evil (as pertaining to Buffy the Vampire Slayer) says that Halloween is a relatively dead night (no pun intended) for the undead and icky.
I was just suddenly made so painfully aware of how nerdy I am.
....
The coolest little boys just came to the door.
One was dressed as Indiana Jones (complete with magic marker facial hair) and his friend was a Jedi.
Boys after my own dear heart.
The doorbell is now ringing too much for me to form complete thoughts anymore, time to end this post early.
Until next time....
Xx
Saturday, October 30, 2010
E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y
There's a play by Tennessee Williams entitled Summer and Smoke that is on my mind as I look out my window and see neither summer nor smoke.
In the story, there's a fountain in the middle of town and a beautiful angel rests in the middle of the fountain.
Little Alma, (which, you find out, is Spanish for soul) knows the angel's name.
It's carved on the bottom of the fountain, but you can't see it with your eyes because it's under the water.
you have to feel it with your fingertips.
E-T-E-K- No, not K, R-......
Eternity.
The angel's name is Eternity.
The name gives Little Alma the cold shivers.
______________________________________
Do you ever find yourself shamelessly spying on your neighbors?
I do.
There's a family across the street that is no longer a family.
For some curious reason, the wife moved out a few months ago and now lives in a house a few streets away, but in the same neighborhood.
She had one of those stickers on the back of her SUV with cartoon stick people images, one for each member of the family.
The dad has been unceremoniously scratched off of the car.
He still lives across the street with three of the kids.
They just left the house- him and the young ones. I believe she has the oldest living with her.
I wonder where he's taking them. She comes by every now and then, and they seem to remain somewhat courteous to each other, but she still undeniably lives in a different house and he is still undeniably angry and alone with the remaining children.
Their house is huge and green.
It's not an unattractive color of green, but sometimes I wonder if maybe all it came down to was that they disagreed about the color of their house.
Maybe she hated the Japanese Maple by their front door.
Maybe he cheated. Maybe she cheated.
E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y.
"We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it's one little room, like a bath-house in the country, black and grimy and spiders in every corner?"- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I guess we don't really know anything about eternity.
But it's comforting to know that somewhere, in the middle of some small town, there's a fountain with an Eternity angel as the centerpiece, who's name cannot be read, but can only be felt by human touch.
Direct collision, unabashed, blaring honesty.
Your eyes can trick you, but when your fingers collide with the cold, hard stone, you have been discovered.
You have been unhorsed, knocked off your high-stepping strutter of illusion, and you are no longer able to conceal yourself.
It's enough to give you the cold shivers, isn't it?
E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y
In the story, there's a fountain in the middle of town and a beautiful angel rests in the middle of the fountain.
Little Alma, (which, you find out, is Spanish for soul) knows the angel's name.
It's carved on the bottom of the fountain, but you can't see it with your eyes because it's under the water.
you have to feel it with your fingertips.
E-T-E-K- No, not K, R-......
Eternity.
The angel's name is Eternity.
The name gives Little Alma the cold shivers.
______________________________________
Do you ever find yourself shamelessly spying on your neighbors?
I do.
There's a family across the street that is no longer a family.
For some curious reason, the wife moved out a few months ago and now lives in a house a few streets away, but in the same neighborhood.
She had one of those stickers on the back of her SUV with cartoon stick people images, one for each member of the family.
The dad has been unceremoniously scratched off of the car.
He still lives across the street with three of the kids.
They just left the house- him and the young ones. I believe she has the oldest living with her.
I wonder where he's taking them. She comes by every now and then, and they seem to remain somewhat courteous to each other, but she still undeniably lives in a different house and he is still undeniably angry and alone with the remaining children.
Their house is huge and green.
It's not an unattractive color of green, but sometimes I wonder if maybe all it came down to was that they disagreed about the color of their house.
Maybe she hated the Japanese Maple by their front door.
Maybe he cheated. Maybe she cheated.
E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y.
"We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast! But why must it be vast? Instead of all that, what if it's one little room, like a bath-house in the country, black and grimy and spiders in every corner?"- Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I guess we don't really know anything about eternity.
But it's comforting to know that somewhere, in the middle of some small town, there's a fountain with an Eternity angel as the centerpiece, who's name cannot be read, but can only be felt by human touch.
Direct collision, unabashed, blaring honesty.
Your eyes can trick you, but when your fingers collide with the cold, hard stone, you have been discovered.
You have been unhorsed, knocked off your high-stepping strutter of illusion, and you are no longer able to conceal yourself.
It's enough to give you the cold shivers, isn't it?
E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y
Thursday, October 28, 2010
"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be asbolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTa25ZaRl78
Sometimes I have a thousand things I want to say, but the words are hard to find.
It's like I have all the ingredients aligned and measured on the counter, but I have nothing to put them in.
That was a bad metaphor.
There's rain falling outside of my window, the clock has just struck 11:11 and I haven't made a wish yet.....
I hope it comes true.
I wish (just so you know, this isn't what I wished for a few minutes ago, although, now I think I should have wished this instead) that I could be more like Marilyn Monroe.
I don't mean bombshell, sex-pot, 'diamonds are a girl's best friend' glittering Marilyn (although she is fabulous), I mean strong, ambitious, tragic, "If you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best", winsome Marilyn.
The one who fought tooth and nail to make valuing yourself a desirable trait in women.
It hit me today that she is the unofficial spokesperson for womanhood.
WWMD?
Glamorous, smart, unassuming, aloof Marilyn.
Women are beautiful, and we're also very, very tragic.
It's our curse.
Our red carpet antics stem from our flair for the dramatic, and in the end all we are is tragic.
Tragic hair, tragic eyes, tragic mouths that curve into tragic smiles.
Tragic hearts, tragic laughs, tragic thoughts that carry us for many tragic miles.
But do you know the secret behind tragedy?
It's beautiful.
And because it's beautiful, we are desirable.
In all it's heart-breaking, unprecedented and luminescent truth, tragedy is beautiful.
It shines, drawing near all those who can relate to it's grand, glimmering orb, and who can relate to tragedy?
Everyone.
Therefore, it is inescapable, and because it's inescapable, we are desirable.
Truth.
I feel like Marilyn would agree with me on what I learned today.
I learned that sometimes, the greatest gift you can give to a hurting friend is not a shoulder to cry on, and it's not a present bought with money, and it's not soothing words whispered into sad, receiving ears.
The greatest gift you can give someone who is hurting is a fabulous homemade breakfast, and a chance for them to say what they feel without being judged, without giving opinions, and without offering advice.
A safe haven, a healthy environment for their already malnourished spirits.
A plate of pancakes with a cup of tea and the simple words, "I validate that", to brush away years of being heard, but not really listened to.
That's the key, isn't it?
You can hear a million different words in a day, but if you don't actually listen, they might as well have fallen on def ears.
It's like looking at ten different places on a map. Unless you actually see them, how are you to know which is best?
Life isn't about hearing the most, or looking at the most things....
Life's about listening when there's nothing to hear, and seeing when there's nothing to look at.
Giving thanks when nothing has been received.
Smiling when nothing has been said.
And most of all, laughing when the only thing left to do is cry.
"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so you can appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."
-Marilyn Monroe
It's like I have all the ingredients aligned and measured on the counter, but I have nothing to put them in.
That was a bad metaphor.
There's rain falling outside of my window, the clock has just struck 11:11 and I haven't made a wish yet.....
I hope it comes true.
I wish (just so you know, this isn't what I wished for a few minutes ago, although, now I think I should have wished this instead) that I could be more like Marilyn Monroe.
I don't mean bombshell, sex-pot, 'diamonds are a girl's best friend' glittering Marilyn (although she is fabulous), I mean strong, ambitious, tragic, "If you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best", winsome Marilyn.
The one who fought tooth and nail to make valuing yourself a desirable trait in women.
It hit me today that she is the unofficial spokesperson for womanhood.
WWMD?
Glamorous, smart, unassuming, aloof Marilyn.
Women are beautiful, and we're also very, very tragic.
It's our curse.
Our red carpet antics stem from our flair for the dramatic, and in the end all we are is tragic.
Tragic hair, tragic eyes, tragic mouths that curve into tragic smiles.
Tragic hearts, tragic laughs, tragic thoughts that carry us for many tragic miles.
But do you know the secret behind tragedy?
It's beautiful.
And because it's beautiful, we are desirable.
In all it's heart-breaking, unprecedented and luminescent truth, tragedy is beautiful.
It shines, drawing near all those who can relate to it's grand, glimmering orb, and who can relate to tragedy?
Everyone.
Therefore, it is inescapable, and because it's inescapable, we are desirable.
Truth.
I feel like Marilyn would agree with me on what I learned today.
I learned that sometimes, the greatest gift you can give to a hurting friend is not a shoulder to cry on, and it's not a present bought with money, and it's not soothing words whispered into sad, receiving ears.
The greatest gift you can give someone who is hurting is a fabulous homemade breakfast, and a chance for them to say what they feel without being judged, without giving opinions, and without offering advice.
A safe haven, a healthy environment for their already malnourished spirits.
A plate of pancakes with a cup of tea and the simple words, "I validate that", to brush away years of being heard, but not really listened to.
That's the key, isn't it?
You can hear a million different words in a day, but if you don't actually listen, they might as well have fallen on def ears.
It's like looking at ten different places on a map. Unless you actually see them, how are you to know which is best?
Life isn't about hearing the most, or looking at the most things....
Life's about listening when there's nothing to hear, and seeing when there's nothing to look at.
Giving thanks when nothing has been received.
Smiling when nothing has been said.
And most of all, laughing when the only thing left to do is cry.
"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so you can learn to let go, things go wrong so you can appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."
-Marilyn Monroe
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