"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone." -Six Feet Under
My camera broke. This is very upsetting because this is the third camera in about 4 years that I've rendered useless. Also, I don't like relying on other people to capture memories...
Which leads me to my recent mini-family reunion over the the past weekend. My grandparents planned a last minute trip from Florida and stayed at my aunt and uncle's. It was my aunt and uncle, cousins, mom, brother and sisters. For the first time in a long time (longer that I can remember), we were all together.
There were many pictures taken that weekend, but there was one that wasn't taken. That's the one I've thought about the most.
On Saturday night, we were all zonked out on baked ziti, beer, and wine. A bunch of us were sitting in the family room,our eyes glazed over as we watched TV. In came Grandma. "I want to take a family picture." Me, being me, said, "You pick the worst times to take pictures." I didn't mean to be callous, only slightly sarcastic. And it's not that I (and others) didn't want to be a picture, but I just didn't want to be in one then.
Grandma walked away. I knew instantly I was a bonehead. My aunt, mom and I went to get her and cheer her up. We crowded around her and gave her a big but she wanted nothing of it. My grandma, one of the most loving and caring person I know, was pissed. My mom went back into the family room but my aunt and I followed Grandma into the guest room.
Grandma started to cry, and I never see her cry. "I wanted a picture of all of us together. Who knows when we'll all be together again, with all our health issues and what not."
I was stunned. I didn't even see it that way. My grandpa's health has been declining, and my grandma had been showing signs of forgetfulness (more than usual). Yet, in taking time and life for granted, I assumed they would be around forever.
We said we'd take the picture. She refused then and she stubbornly refused to take the picture the next morning. The moment was already gone.
I wondered why she needed a picture to capture our family together. But I've been realizing that memories can be fleeting. Hell, I barely remember yesterday. It's the capturing of memories that keeps them safe. We took pictures all weekend, but I don't think I'll even forget the family picture we didn't take. I learned that we need something to help us remember. That there's something intangible about act of posing for the camera and smiling.
I should learn to take better care of my camera.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
the edge
"My life is like a stroll upon the beach...,
As near the ocean’s edge as I can go..."
-Henry David Thoreau
...Last week, I went to Long Beach Island, an 18-mile long strip of land just off the coast of New Jersey. And what a stay it was. I went with Alissa and I had some reservations,given some past skirmishes, but I think it only brought us closer. I think that happens when you have a new experience with a friend. It brings you together because you mutually experience things that invoke your senses. And when you have a memory of that sense or experience, you think of the other person.
It was just beautiful there. The weather was perfect. We stayed in a motel 200 feet away from the beach. One morning, I got up early and went for a run. I ended the run on the shore. The ocean was calm, with waves gently lapping the sand. The sun's rays reflected shimmery light off the water. The absence of the roar of the high tide pounding the beach left a tranquil solitude that I will never forget.
And I went surfing for the first time ever! That was an adventure! I'm hooked! It was difficult at first to get the movement and rhythm of standing on the board, but at the same time I felt so comfortable out on the water. I think the hardest part was paddling through the breaking waves. The falling was difficult, also, which happened often. And I didn't fall gracefully; it was like I was competing for the worst wipe out award! But what a sense of triumph I had when I stood up and rode the wave to the shore!
Now that my gypsying ways have ended (for the most part; a few side trips here and there. A gypsy can never stop in one place for too long, after all...) this summer, I can focus on life here and {slowly} switch gears for September. Because whether I like it or not, it's almost August and that means summer is almost over. But what a summer it's been...
"she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in the circus."
Sunday, July 18, 2010
summer is delicious
I spent the first 2 weeks of summer gypsying around, spending time with friends and family. I've had some great times and wonderful, fun experiences. Here are some "wordbytes," if you will...
...Reading a 400-page book during a lazy, rainy day...
...Watching Natalie and Emma share a towel and eat potato chips on a perfect day at the beach...
...Sailing for the first time ever...
...Spending a full week with my mom...
...Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds live...
...Sumptuous dinners in Canandaigua...
...Getting hit on by a redneck at a car race...
...Running around a reservoir and down a tree-lined path...
...Now that I've settled back down from my travels, it's time for another adventure! Destination: Long Beach Island, NJ. I'm sure I'll have some blog-worthy stories to share upon my return...
...Lately, it feels like there has been a ripening of my soul, like delicious piece of fruit. Is this happiness? In the back of my mind, there's always a voice warning me to expect misfortune and bad luck. And I'm sure some adversity is bound to happen at some time or other. But please, let me enjoy the warm sun on my skin and life ripening before my eyes. Ah, summer...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
my gypsy ways
There's a feeling I get
when I hear the rustling of the trees.
As the wind rushes past me
and through the leaf-heavy branches.
Expectation.
Waiting for the end of the cascading wind
and the eerie silence that follows.
The silence that soothes and comforts,
but beckons for more.
Longing.
I yearn to go
where I choose.
I want to feel the impact of others
as I
rush by.
Nothing to hold me back
besides
the air.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
run down memory lane
Start on Couch St, slowly, finding my pace.
Turn right onto William St.
College house party.
I remember the white and blue-striped top I wore.
Jog passed Zuke's Deli and cross Brinkerhoff Ave.
We'd hang out there after school, biding our time before practice.
One time, in 8th grade, we found a pornographic book in the church parking lot.
We brought our promiscuous loot to Zuke's and read it with fervor and confusion.
Left onto Cornelia, then a quick left onto Grace Ave.
Pass by Kate's childhood home.
Many days and many sleepovers.
Her mother's lasagna.
Her parents have split.
The house is sold.
My pace quickens and my stride lengthens.
Left onto Bailey Ave, then right onto Lynde St.
Pass by Lafayette.
Jake Lessor lived down that street.
After-prom party.
Busted party.
Now Boynton Ave.
The relentless sun, fresh and hard after a passing storm,
Beats down on my face.
Breathing slow,
Easy.
Straight unto Cumberland Ave.
Pass by Katie Dahlen's childhood home.
Spent the ice storm of '98 there.
Crept out in 8th grad.
Her sister
Picked us up on the side of road.
Brought us to a college party.
We're no longer friends.
The humidity starts to get to me.
Sweat drips down my face.
But the breeze rushing off the lake
Cools and refreshes me.
Pass by McDonough Monument
I took my prom pictures there.
I wore a light blue strapless dress with a gathered hem.
I felt like Cinderella.
Up the hill.
I hate hills.
Chugging along, I want to walk up it.
I keep running.
I pass by the spot where I won the pie eating contest.
It was a cherry pie with a piece of bubble gum in it.
I had graduated high school.
I got my eyebrow pierced immediately after.
Through downtown Plattsburgh, onto Court St.
I know I'm almost done.
I pass by my high school.
A part has been torn down.
It's being converted into senior citizen housing.
The art wing was included in the demolition.
I had two murals painted there.
The only evidence of any artistic ability I possess.
The end is in sight,
Left onto William St., then Couch St.
The home stretch.
I slow to a walk,
and saunter back to
My car.
It seems so long, a run.
But a blur when it's done.
And you see it behind you.
The phantom steps
The linger.
Turn right onto William St.
College house party.
I remember the white and blue-striped top I wore.
Jog passed Zuke's Deli and cross Brinkerhoff Ave.
We'd hang out there after school, biding our time before practice.
One time, in 8th grade, we found a pornographic book in the church parking lot.
We brought our promiscuous loot to Zuke's and read it with fervor and confusion.
Left onto Cornelia, then a quick left onto Grace Ave.
Pass by Kate's childhood home.
Many days and many sleepovers.
Her mother's lasagna.
Her parents have split.
The house is sold.
My pace quickens and my stride lengthens.
Left onto Bailey Ave, then right onto Lynde St.
Pass by Lafayette.
Jake Lessor lived down that street.
After-prom party.
Busted party.
Now Boynton Ave.
The relentless sun, fresh and hard after a passing storm,
Beats down on my face.
Breathing slow,
Easy.
Straight unto Cumberland Ave.
Pass by Katie Dahlen's childhood home.
Spent the ice storm of '98 there.
Crept out in 8th grad.
Her sister
Picked us up on the side of road.
Brought us to a college party.
We're no longer friends.
The humidity starts to get to me.
Sweat drips down my face.
But the breeze rushing off the lake
Cools and refreshes me.
Pass by McDonough Monument
I took my prom pictures there.
I wore a light blue strapless dress with a gathered hem.
I felt like Cinderella.
Up the hill.
I hate hills.
Chugging along, I want to walk up it.
I keep running.
I pass by the spot where I won the pie eating contest.
It was a cherry pie with a piece of bubble gum in it.
I had graduated high school.
I got my eyebrow pierced immediately after.
Through downtown Plattsburgh, onto Court St.
I know I'm almost done.
I pass by my high school.
A part has been torn down.
It's being converted into senior citizen housing.
The art wing was included in the demolition.
I had two murals painted there.
The only evidence of any artistic ability I possess.
The end is in sight,
Left onto William St., then Couch St.
The home stretch.
I slow to a walk,
and saunter back to
My car.
It seems so long, a run.
But a blur when it's done.
And you see it behind you.
The phantom steps
The linger.
Monday, June 28, 2010
a conversation with a 7-year old
My sister, Emma, and I were doing at-home pedicures when she asked me about Ty.
"What happened with you and Ty?" She inquired.
"Well, we decided we shouldn't be together anymore," I replied.
"Did you have a fight?" She went on to ask.
"No, it just didn't work out."
"Yeah, boys are silly. They don't know what to do with you."
"Very true. You shouldn't be worrying about boys, anyway. You should just have a lot of girlfriends."
"You're right. And then when you do have a boyfriend, you can tell them what to do."
...This made me smile. We should listen to our inner seven-year old more often. Sometimes it's the most simple sentiment that makes the most sense.
"What happened with you and Ty?" She inquired.
"Well, we decided we shouldn't be together anymore," I replied.
"Did you have a fight?" She went on to ask.
"No, it just didn't work out."
"Yeah, boys are silly. They don't know what to do with you."
"Very true. You shouldn't be worrying about boys, anyway. You should just have a lot of girlfriends."
"You're right. And then when you do have a boyfriend, you can tell them what to do."
...This made me smile. We should listen to our inner seven-year old more often. Sometimes it's the most simple sentiment that makes the most sense.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
needs
I have a reasonable suspicion that Ty has a girlfriend (reason #599 that I need to take a break from facebook). I had a feeling, though. He stopped texting and asking that we "hang out."
So, how do I feel?
I don't really know. Different feelings run through my mind. Sadness. Relief. Confusion. Release. A part of me misses him and is mad that he moved on first (thanks, sinister sarah). Another part (the more dominate and sane part, might I add), thinks, "Ha, not my problem anymore!"
I thought I needed Ty. I thought I needed the reassurance, the attention, his ability to take apart my futon and bookshelf, his powertools. I relied on constant texting and contact.
But honestly, I can take my own futon and bookshelf apart. And I can advocate for my own happiness. I can be alone and be okay with it. My phone doesn't have to be constantly buzzing. To quote SATC: "That's the thing about needs. Sometimes when you get them met, you don't need them anymore."
At the end of the day, I don't need him. I need me to the best I can be. And I couldn't be that person when I was with him.
So, how do I feel?
I don't really know. Different feelings run through my mind. Sadness. Relief. Confusion. Release. A part of me misses him and is mad that he moved on first (thanks, sinister sarah). Another part (the more dominate and sane part, might I add), thinks, "Ha, not my problem anymore!"
I thought I needed Ty. I thought I needed the reassurance, the attention, his ability to take apart my futon and bookshelf, his powertools. I relied on constant texting and contact.
But honestly, I can take my own futon and bookshelf apart. And I can advocate for my own happiness. I can be alone and be okay with it. My phone doesn't have to be constantly buzzing. To quote SATC: "That's the thing about needs. Sometimes when you get them met, you don't need them anymore."
At the end of the day, I don't need him. I need me to the best I can be. And I couldn't be that person when I was with him.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
what i've learned from my dad
My dad is a man's man. He grills. He golfs. He drinks beer. But he also is the type of man whose life has taught him many things, and in many difficult and happy ways. When I least expect it he offers up little nuggets of wisdom that's held true for him, and me as well.
Still waters run deep.
Here is just a sampling of what I've learned from my dad.
Be clean.
Have a sense of humor.
You have to see the forest through the trees.
Your health is the most important thing.
Running, even when you're hungover, is the key to physical fitness.
Take good care of your car.
Preparation is imperative for work and play.
Naps can do wonders.
While it's easy to be bitter, the truth is you have to be accepting of others.
Don't owe anyone money if you can help it (this is a lesson I have yet to learn...).
When you really love someone, you show it in your own way.
No regrets.
Happy father's day, Dad.
Still waters run deep.
Here is just a sampling of what I've learned from my dad.
Be clean.
Have a sense of humor.
You have to see the forest through the trees.
Your health is the most important thing.
Running, even when you're hungover, is the key to physical fitness.
Take good care of your car.
Preparation is imperative for work and play.
Naps can do wonders.
While it's easy to be bitter, the truth is you have to be accepting of others.
Don't owe anyone money if you can help it (this is a lesson I have yet to learn...).
When you really love someone, you show it in your own way.
No regrets.
Happy father's day, Dad.
Monday, June 14, 2010
bookends
Time it was and what a time it was it was,
A time of innocence a time of confidences.
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.
This past weekend I went to a wedding shower in Westchester county. The couple are friends from college. We were on crew club and I even lived with them for a part of a summer. After college, as it typically happens, you find out that the ties that bound you no longer hold you together. So naturally, we went our separate ways with intermittent smatterings of contact.
I felt some hesitance going. I hadn't seen Chris and Kelly in well over a year, with the only contact being via random facebook messages. In fact, I almost didn't even go. But I did, and I am so very glad I did.
The happiness on Kelly's face seeing me (she didn't know or even expect that I was coming) brought back all these memories and good times we shared during college. I even saw other friends from college that I fell out of touch with as well.
I have always marveled about how people come into our lives and these intense moments of happiness, joy, crisis, and bonding are shared. These people are the molders of the person you eventually become, be it high school friends, college friends, colleagues, boyfriends, etc.
And yet, they leave so easily and effortlessly. Sometimes, you forget about them or even that they exist.
Why is that?
Do people have certain roles in our life and once those purposes are fulfilled they move on and make room for the next batch of individuals?
There is a certain feeling of sadness, nostaglia, and wistfulness when I reconnect with old friends. I love the reminiscing and reconnecting and laughter shared. But it's that feeling after, when I realize that those days are over, that I realize we are not those people anymore we once were. And sometimes that's not a bad thing entirely. We have to grow and grow up.
But it's a thing of beauty when old friends can still be friends.
As the people they are now.
In gratitude to the people they knew then.
Thank you...
A time of innocence a time of confidences.
Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.
This past weekend I went to a wedding shower in Westchester county. The couple are friends from college. We were on crew club and I even lived with them for a part of a summer. After college, as it typically happens, you find out that the ties that bound you no longer hold you together. So naturally, we went our separate ways with intermittent smatterings of contact.
I felt some hesitance going. I hadn't seen Chris and Kelly in well over a year, with the only contact being via random facebook messages. In fact, I almost didn't even go. But I did, and I am so very glad I did.
The happiness on Kelly's face seeing me (she didn't know or even expect that I was coming) brought back all these memories and good times we shared during college. I even saw other friends from college that I fell out of touch with as well.
I have always marveled about how people come into our lives and these intense moments of happiness, joy, crisis, and bonding are shared. These people are the molders of the person you eventually become, be it high school friends, college friends, colleagues, boyfriends, etc.
And yet, they leave so easily and effortlessly. Sometimes, you forget about them or even that they exist.
Why is that?
Do people have certain roles in our life and once those purposes are fulfilled they move on and make room for the next batch of individuals?
There is a certain feeling of sadness, nostaglia, and wistfulness when I reconnect with old friends. I love the reminiscing and reconnecting and laughter shared. But it's that feeling after, when I realize that those days are over, that I realize we are not those people anymore we once were. And sometimes that's not a bad thing entirely. We have to grow and grow up.
But it's a thing of beauty when old friends can still be friends.
As the people they are now.
In gratitude to the people they knew then.
Thank you...
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
who am i really mad at?
My friend and I aren't really speaking at the moment. It's like a contest to outlast each other in talking things out.
On Saturday, we out with some teammates from her softball team. I met Kevin, a 20-something guy. I was mildly interested and I say mildly because even though I knew he wasn't my type I was still intrigued. He was on the shorter side, living in an apartment I'd mistake for a college apartment, and seemed like a player. But it was like wearing skinny jeans or sky-high heels; the idea of it is much more appealing than the actuality of it. Anyway, I told Alissa about my interest and she encouraged it; she thought we'd be "cute together," whatever that means...
We went to a bar downtown, so not my scene. My aqua tank, jeans, and flip flops were sorely out of place with all the short skirts and plunging necklines.
We went to the section where there was a dance floor. The awful music was pounding, hurting my head and tired body (I had done the Freihofers Run for Women and played a softball game earlier that day. I was not in the mood for bad music and gyrating bodies. I should've known this was a bad idea...).
And wouldn't you know, Kevin asked Alissa to dance and they danced seducively with each other for a chunk of the night. I didn't want to care (I mean, he wasn't even a good dancer), but I did care. I cared that Alissa, knowing I was interested in him, spent the night dancing and talking with him. I cared that he didn't ask me to dance. It soured my night and Alissa knew it. Yet she didn't say anything and actually made an extra effort to be extra nice to me. I was talking to another friend we were out with and she said the reason Kevin went after Alissa was because she was "more attainable." Okay, what does that even mean??
It wasn't so much the guy and Alissa that upset me. It was the principle of the matter. The element of competition has been a part of our friendship for some time. It's like she's threatened when there is an ounce of attention placed elsewhere. This type of thing has happened before, too. And yes, I know, I am guilty of it as well...But another case in point in our competitive friendship!
So, I haven't talk to here unless I've had to talk to her, and I'm trying to keep it to a minimum. I don't have anything to say to her. I'd rather get over it and have some space than try to talk to her about it.
Who am I mad at, really? Alissa, for making this a pattern in our competitve friendship? At Kevin, who didn't want to dance with me and talk to me? Or, am I really mad at myself? For being too thin-skinned; for not being outgoing enough like Alissa; for being incredibly awkward?
Perhaps I should talk to her, afterall. Because letting her off the hook would mean I'm letting myself off the hook. And maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...
On Saturday, we out with some teammates from her softball team. I met Kevin, a 20-something guy. I was mildly interested and I say mildly because even though I knew he wasn't my type I was still intrigued. He was on the shorter side, living in an apartment I'd mistake for a college apartment, and seemed like a player. But it was like wearing skinny jeans or sky-high heels; the idea of it is much more appealing than the actuality of it. Anyway, I told Alissa about my interest and she encouraged it; she thought we'd be "cute together," whatever that means...
We went to a bar downtown, so not my scene. My aqua tank, jeans, and flip flops were sorely out of place with all the short skirts and plunging necklines.
We went to the section where there was a dance floor. The awful music was pounding, hurting my head and tired body (I had done the Freihofers Run for Women and played a softball game earlier that day. I was not in the mood for bad music and gyrating bodies. I should've known this was a bad idea...).
And wouldn't you know, Kevin asked Alissa to dance and they danced seducively with each other for a chunk of the night. I didn't want to care (I mean, he wasn't even a good dancer), but I did care. I cared that Alissa, knowing I was interested in him, spent the night dancing and talking with him. I cared that he didn't ask me to dance. It soured my night and Alissa knew it. Yet she didn't say anything and actually made an extra effort to be extra nice to me. I was talking to another friend we were out with and she said the reason Kevin went after Alissa was because she was "more attainable." Okay, what does that even mean??
It wasn't so much the guy and Alissa that upset me. It was the principle of the matter. The element of competition has been a part of our friendship for some time. It's like she's threatened when there is an ounce of attention placed elsewhere. This type of thing has happened before, too. And yes, I know, I am guilty of it as well...But another case in point in our competitive friendship!
So, I haven't talk to here unless I've had to talk to her, and I'm trying to keep it to a minimum. I don't have anything to say to her. I'd rather get over it and have some space than try to talk to her about it.
Who am I mad at, really? Alissa, for making this a pattern in our competitve friendship? At Kevin, who didn't want to dance with me and talk to me? Or, am I really mad at myself? For being too thin-skinned; for not being outgoing enough like Alissa; for being incredibly awkward?
Perhaps I should talk to her, afterall. Because letting her off the hook would mean I'm letting myself off the hook. And maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Six-Word Memoirs
Six-word memoirs are a way to tell your story, using exactly six words. I read a collection of them, It All Changed In an Instant recently and I was inspired. You see, I've been dealing with writer's block lately. These got me writing again. Smith Magazine is a blog-a-zine that collects and shares these stories.
The first six-word story was actually written by Ernest Hemingway. He wrote it supposedly to settle a bet (knowing Hemingway, I'm sure there was some alcohol involved). For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
His story is only six words, yet it speaks of hundreds more in what's not said.
They're fun to do, yet it's hard to pinpoint the six most important words to tell your story.
Here are some of mine:
*I've moved thirty-one times. I'm twenty-six.
*Went to Australia. Missed college graduation.
*Brother's attempted suicide kept me awake.
*Mom could've had an abortion. Didn't.
*Books plus beaches equal peaceful spirit.
The first six-word story was actually written by Ernest Hemingway. He wrote it supposedly to settle a bet (knowing Hemingway, I'm sure there was some alcohol involved). For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
His story is only six words, yet it speaks of hundreds more in what's not said.
They're fun to do, yet it's hard to pinpoint the six most important words to tell your story.
Here are some of mine:
*I've moved thirty-one times. I'm twenty-six.
*Went to Australia. Missed college graduation.
*Brother's attempted suicide kept me awake.
*Mom could've had an abortion. Didn't.
*Books plus beaches equal peaceful spirit.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
truth hurts?
I've been musing over truth lately. Be it recent events or old scars that's led me to these meditations, I'm not too sure. When is truth necessary? When is it unnecessary?
Sometimes I'm not good with honesty. When I tell the truth, oftentimes I feel bad for it. I think it's "easier" to adjust my expectations for someone else for the sake of harmonious relations. In in the end, it's me who gets burned with the truth as it simmers inside.
I avoid telling the truth because I'm afraid of what people would say. But I'm lying to myself; convincing myself that what I really think doesn't matter. In this, a false and fraudulent picture is painted. It's an illusion. I am illusion.
I don't want to hide from the truth.
I want to be freed from other people's perceptions.
It boils to the face that I'm not true to myself.
If I were to tell the truth...
The truth is...I'm arrogant and haughty. I think very little of myself, so I make up for the deficiency by thinking that I'm better than everyone else. It's easier to judge others than myself. I don't think I've ever admitted that before!
The truth is...I'm angry. I'm angry at my family for its dysfunction. We all walk around on eggshells because we're afraid of what would happen if we said what was really on our minds. Can't we simply all just get along? My life largely revolves around my family. So when there is a breakdown with the family, there is a breakdown with me.
The truth is...I don't know when I'll be over Ty . I don't want to reconcile with him. I'm possessive of him. I need to know what he's doing. Just because we're not together doesn't mean he can be with anyone else (Wow, I don't think I've admitted that either. That's slighty psychotic.). Even if we were to get back together, nothing would change. He's not going to move. I'm not going to move (for him). Even if were together, I'd still be here, alone in my apartment, missing him. Nothing would change.
The truth is... I'm want to be loved.
The truth is...I love.
The truth is....I'm afraid.
The truth.
Sometimes I'm not good with honesty. When I tell the truth, oftentimes I feel bad for it. I think it's "easier" to adjust my expectations for someone else for the sake of harmonious relations. In in the end, it's me who gets burned with the truth as it simmers inside.
I avoid telling the truth because I'm afraid of what people would say. But I'm lying to myself; convincing myself that what I really think doesn't matter. In this, a false and fraudulent picture is painted. It's an illusion. I am illusion.
I don't want to hide from the truth.
I want to be freed from other people's perceptions.
It boils to the face that I'm not true to myself.
If I were to tell the truth...
The truth is...I'm arrogant and haughty. I think very little of myself, so I make up for the deficiency by thinking that I'm better than everyone else. It's easier to judge others than myself. I don't think I've ever admitted that before!
The truth is...I'm angry. I'm angry at my family for its dysfunction. We all walk around on eggshells because we're afraid of what would happen if we said what was really on our minds. Can't we simply all just get along? My life largely revolves around my family. So when there is a breakdown with the family, there is a breakdown with me.
The truth is...I don't know when I'll be over Ty . I don't want to reconcile with him. I'm possessive of him. I need to know what he's doing. Just because we're not together doesn't mean he can be with anyone else (Wow, I don't think I've admitted that either. That's slighty psychotic.). Even if we were to get back together, nothing would change. He's not going to move. I'm not going to move (for him). Even if were together, I'd still be here, alone in my apartment, missing him. Nothing would change.
The truth is... I'm want to be loved.
The truth is...I love.
The truth is....I'm afraid.
The truth.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
i lost my mojo, man!
My inspiration went missing.
My creativity is on strike
They must be co-conspirators.
Hatching diabolical schemes
to keep me in the monotonous grays
and cut off from brilliant blues and radiant reds.
Can we negotiate?
Perhaps come to an agreement?
I'm stumped;
I've stalled.
I need it all back...
My creativity is on strike
They must be co-conspirators.
Hatching diabolical schemes
to keep me in the monotonous grays
and cut off from brilliant blues and radiant reds.
Can we negotiate?
Perhaps come to an agreement?
I'm stumped;
I've stalled.
I need it all back...
Sunday, May 9, 2010
in bloom
Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ~Rainer Maria Rilke
Tulipfest in Albany is one of my most favorite things about living here.
So many different colors and shapes...
It's the weekends like these, surrounded by beauty and friends, that I think that everything and anything is possible.
That youth will last.
That life is unfolded before me.
I hold on to these moments.
Friday, May 7, 2010
for the phenomenal women...
I was observing a 10th grade honors English class yesterday and they read this poem. It made me feel giddy and happy inside, especially on a day when Sarah was niopping at my heels. Here it is...
Phenomenal Woman
by Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
...Enjoy, all you phenomenal women :-)
Phenomenal Woman
by Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
...Enjoy, all you phenomenal women :-)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
disclaimer: i am not {certifiably} crazy
I have a voice in my head. Wait, don't get the straight jacket just yet. Let me explain...
This voice, this alter ego, says every negative thing possible to bring me down. Just when I'm getting a grip on life, this voice saunters in, whispering sweet nothings: "You're stupid, you're worthless, you're fat and ugly, no one likes you..."
My alter ego sits, lurking in the shadows, waiting to seize any opportunity of sabotage. I shall call her Sarah.
This is what I would say to my saboteur, Sarah, in a calm, rational, and confident voice:
Sarah, we gotta talk. I don't appreciate you around here anymore. You drive me crazy with your quiet insistence that no one likes me. I am of value, of substance. I am worth being liked. I know people like me! Wait, they have to like me, right? Ok, don't get started!
And another thing, I broke up with Ty for a reason. Don't you remember how unhappy I was? Don't you remember how he cheated on me? Sure, there were good times, but we weren't right for each other. So why don't you let me get over him!? Thanks to you, I compulsively check his Facebook profile; I get upset when he's friends with these attractive girls; I momentarily forget why we broke up; I meet up with him. I'm better than that! I deserve more than that!
I'm not stupid; I'm intelligent. I'm not ugly; I am fairly attractive when I want to be. I'm not severely obese; I'm athletic. Why must you insist on making me have these thoughts of self deprecation?
I'm sick of you, Why don't you bother someone else with thicker skin? That's right, leave....
Sarah slinks off into the background as I tell her off. But, if I listen hard enough, I'll realize her voice sounds a lot like my own. Only slightly more sinister...
Do I still need that straight jacket?
This voice, this alter ego, says every negative thing possible to bring me down. Just when I'm getting a grip on life, this voice saunters in, whispering sweet nothings: "You're stupid, you're worthless, you're fat and ugly, no one likes you..."
My alter ego sits, lurking in the shadows, waiting to seize any opportunity of sabotage. I shall call her Sarah.
This is what I would say to my saboteur, Sarah, in a calm, rational, and confident voice:
Sarah, we gotta talk. I don't appreciate you around here anymore. You drive me crazy with your quiet insistence that no one likes me. I am of value, of substance. I am worth being liked. I know people like me! Wait, they have to like me, right? Ok, don't get started!
And another thing, I broke up with Ty for a reason. Don't you remember how unhappy I was? Don't you remember how he cheated on me? Sure, there were good times, but we weren't right for each other. So why don't you let me get over him!? Thanks to you, I compulsively check his Facebook profile; I get upset when he's friends with these attractive girls; I momentarily forget why we broke up; I meet up with him. I'm better than that! I deserve more than that!
I'm not stupid; I'm intelligent. I'm not ugly; I am fairly attractive when I want to be. I'm not severely obese; I'm athletic. Why must you insist on making me have these thoughts of self deprecation?
I'm sick of you, Why don't you bother someone else with thicker skin? That's right, leave....
Sarah slinks off into the background as I tell her off. But, if I listen hard enough, I'll realize her voice sounds a lot like my own. Only slightly more sinister...
Do I still need that straight jacket?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
not alone
"A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us"
-Kafka
It is inherent that, as a reading teacher, I must like to read.
Not only like. But love. And I'm okay with being bookish and nerdy. It suits me.
Books are a source of solace and comfort.
They make me forget, yet make me remember.
Their stories fill my head with hope that there is a world out there for the taking.
Currently, this is my favorite place to read (and everyone needs a favorite place to read):
A blue chair by my sliding glass door.
I mold myself to it like a ball nestled in a worn glove.
I like to sit here in the late afternoon, when the western sun is pouring in.
When it's nice out, I'll keep the door open and listen to the sounds of the chirping birds, rustling leaves, and laughing children..
Oftentimes, there is a glass of wine accompanying me.
Now, back to being a reading teacher. I originally became a reading teacher because of said love for reading. Ah, so naive, Kim. Little did I know that the kids I would be working with dislike, even to the point of hate, reading.
I guess I can't blame them totally. Most of my students have had repeated failures and struggles with reading growing up. They've built up a wall of defense to avoid struggling and failing. I mean, who wants to do something that's hard for them? To most, reading and writing is frightening. Some don't even see the point of improving their skills in reading and writing. That is what frightens me the most.
Sometimes it's a battle to get a piece of literature in their hands or a word written down.
When a student writes mentally breaks a sweat and composes a good piece of writing, or when a student really gets a story, all that toil seems worth it. Those successes, however, are few and far in between.
But I'll enjoy those moments when they do happen...
But for now, I'll enjoy my blue chair and hope everyone has a blue chair to fly away for a little while...
"She had learning something comforting, that we are not alone"
-Matilda
-Kafka
It is inherent that, as a reading teacher, I must like to read.
Not only like. But love. And I'm okay with being bookish and nerdy. It suits me.
Books are a source of solace and comfort.
They make me forget, yet make me remember.
Their stories fill my head with hope that there is a world out there for the taking.
Currently, this is my favorite place to read (and everyone needs a favorite place to read):
A blue chair by my sliding glass door.
I mold myself to it like a ball nestled in a worn glove.
I like to sit here in the late afternoon, when the western sun is pouring in.
When it's nice out, I'll keep the door open and listen to the sounds of the chirping birds, rustling leaves, and laughing children..
Oftentimes, there is a glass of wine accompanying me.
Now, back to being a reading teacher. I originally became a reading teacher because of said love for reading. Ah, so naive, Kim. Little did I know that the kids I would be working with dislike, even to the point of hate, reading.
I guess I can't blame them totally. Most of my students have had repeated failures and struggles with reading growing up. They've built up a wall of defense to avoid struggling and failing. I mean, who wants to do something that's hard for them? To most, reading and writing is frightening. Some don't even see the point of improving their skills in reading and writing. That is what frightens me the most.
Sometimes it's a battle to get a piece of literature in their hands or a word written down.
When a student writes mentally breaks a sweat and composes a good piece of writing, or when a student really gets a story, all that toil seems worth it. Those successes, however, are few and far in between.
But I'll enjoy those moments when they do happen...
But for now, I'll enjoy my blue chair and hope everyone has a blue chair to fly away for a little while...
"She had learning something comforting, that we are not alone"
-Matilda
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
slow burn
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My eyes burn
like the my soul's hazy discontent.
I'm tired.
I'm tired of not being
smart enough,
funny enough,
pretty enough,
pretty enough,
thin enough.
Maybe someday
I'll wake up,
with clear eyes,
realizing that I'm
Good enough.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
must.get.to.happy.place
Teaching is like a battlefield.
Each side considers the other a foe and schemes to capitalize on their enemy's weakness. To beat them to a bloody pulp. Sometimes there is a clear victor, sometimes there is a stalemate. Either outcome leaves casualties littering the ground.
A typical casualty is my sanity and patience.
Often I find myself working harder than my students. Sometimes I can bend and not break with their silly immaturities. Other times it's the pettiest infraction that sends me flying.
No, you cannot just sit there doing absolutely nothing because you don't have a pencil. Yes, that's right. Use your big kid words and ask for one.
That's okay, just stare at me blankly when I ask you a question. I like talking to myself.
Those feelings of defeat and frustration leave me deflated like a sad balloon leftover and forgotten at a birthday party.
After days like these, I need to get to my happy place. Here are some ways I find my happy place:
* Singing loudly with one of my favorite songs. Even though I sound like a poor animal dying...
*Getting outdoors. There is something invigorating about getting out and smelling the air and doing something with my body that prevents my mind from spinning wheels...
*Ice cream. Any kind. Preferably by the pint.
*Laughing uncontrollably until I cry. Then crying.
*Reading. I love being so engrossed in someone else's issues instead of my own
*When all else fails, open a bottle of wine or a cold beer. Or both.
What does my happy place look like? Something like this...
And this...
Or even this...
What does your happy place look like?
Each side considers the other a foe and schemes to capitalize on their enemy's weakness. To beat them to a bloody pulp. Sometimes there is a clear victor, sometimes there is a stalemate. Either outcome leaves casualties littering the ground.
A typical casualty is my sanity and patience.
Often I find myself working harder than my students. Sometimes I can bend and not break with their silly immaturities. Other times it's the pettiest infraction that sends me flying.
No, you cannot just sit there doing absolutely nothing because you don't have a pencil. Yes, that's right. Use your big kid words and ask for one.
That's okay, just stare at me blankly when I ask you a question. I like talking to myself.
Those feelings of defeat and frustration leave me deflated like a sad balloon leftover and forgotten at a birthday party.
After days like these, I need to get to my happy place. Here are some ways I find my happy place:
* Singing loudly with one of my favorite songs. Even though I sound like a poor animal dying...
*Getting outdoors. There is something invigorating about getting out and smelling the air and doing something with my body that prevents my mind from spinning wheels...
*Ice cream. Any kind. Preferably by the pint.
*Laughing uncontrollably until I cry. Then crying.
*Reading. I love being so engrossed in someone else's issues instead of my own
*When all else fails, open a bottle of wine or a cold beer. Or both.
What does my happy place look like? Something like this...
And this...
Or even this...
What does your happy place look like?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Spring
Sprightly like a daffodil, swaying gently in the breeze.
Clean like the pale green buds on trees, ready to pounce into the world.
Fresh like the green grass, reawakened with sun and rain.
Pure like the air that rustles through my hair.
Signs of renewal and creeping and peeping though the vestige of winter.
I want to be like spring, where possibility, vitality, and beauty grow and reign inside me.
Clean like the pale green buds on trees, ready to pounce into the world.
Fresh like the green grass, reawakened with sun and rain.
Pure like the air that rustles through my hair.
Signs of renewal and creeping and peeping though the vestige of winter.
I want to be like spring, where possibility, vitality, and beauty grow and reign inside me.
4/18/10
It's 4/18/10, another arbitrary date. Three months ago I started this blog to seek clarity in my otherwise hazy life.
Mission accomplished? While there are some aspects in my life that have remained hazy, some aspects have become more clear and perceptible.
I figured things (i.e. love, job, me) out about myself, but I realized that there are just some aspects of life that will remain a mystery. Sometimes it's best to let them be revealed and resolved on their own rather than hunt them down and rip them open.
With respects to my work, a valued colleague recently said, "I have a job, when I want a career." That simply stated thought spoke volumes to me. That's what I've been searching for. A career that has meaning, order, goals. Not a job to barely pay my bills. But I learned to be thankful for what I have. I can turn my job into a career, but it has to be me that does so. I can't wait for someone else to do it.
With regards to Ty. Well, he's a complicated person who complicates my life. But I know now that whatever role he plays, it's not the love of my life. That role is still to be determined and casted...
About those "big life decisions:" Those will come when they're ready, and whether or not I'm ready. But I'll be awaiting them, while my fingertips fluidly tap the keyboard, detailing it all on the blogosphere, with eyes wide open...
Mission accomplished? While there are some aspects in my life that have remained hazy, some aspects have become more clear and perceptible.
I figured things (i.e. love, job, me) out about myself, but I realized that there are just some aspects of life that will remain a mystery. Sometimes it's best to let them be revealed and resolved on their own rather than hunt them down and rip them open.
With respects to my work, a valued colleague recently said, "I have a job, when I want a career." That simply stated thought spoke volumes to me. That's what I've been searching for. A career that has meaning, order, goals. Not a job to barely pay my bills. But I learned to be thankful for what I have. I can turn my job into a career, but it has to be me that does so. I can't wait for someone else to do it.
With regards to Ty. Well, he's a complicated person who complicates my life. But I know now that whatever role he plays, it's not the love of my life. That role is still to be determined and casted...
About those "big life decisions:" Those will come when they're ready, and whether or not I'm ready. But I'll be awaiting them, while my fingertips fluidly tap the keyboard, detailing it all on the blogosphere, with eyes wide open...
Friday, April 16, 2010
Something
"Be not simply good, be good for something" -Henry David Thoreau
"How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?" -Vincent Van Gogh
I came across these quotes recently and they left me wondering, feeling somethat perplexed:
"Something" is so vague, intangible, undetermined.Something can mean anything. What's my "something?"
People search for this "something" all their lives. Purpose, passion, acceptance, release.
So, what am I searching for? I've realized these past three months that even though I'm not sure what my "something" is, I want it, I need it! I want to know that my life is headed somewhere, but more importantly, that I'm serving some sort of purpose.
I want to be good. Good for what I stand up for, good for those I love. Good enough.
It's almost like this "something" is in my peripheral vision. I can see the blurry edges, but no defined shape.
It's just a matter of turning my head and looking in the right direction...
"How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?" -Vincent Van Gogh
I came across these quotes recently and they left me wondering, feeling somethat perplexed:
"Something" is so vague, intangible, undetermined.Something can mean anything. What's my "something?"
People search for this "something" all their lives. Purpose, passion, acceptance, release.
So, what am I searching for? I've realized these past three months that even though I'm not sure what my "something" is, I want it, I need it! I want to know that my life is headed somewhere, but more importantly, that I'm serving some sort of purpose.
I want to be good. Good for what I stand up for, good for those I love. Good enough.
It's almost like this "something" is in my peripheral vision. I can see the blurry edges, but no defined shape.
It's just a matter of turning my head and looking in the right direction...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Spinning my wheels @ Perfect Blend
I do some of my best wheel-spinning while drinking vanilla lattes at Perfect Blend, as I wait for the overpriced spin cyle to stop next door. Grateful Dead playing. Things are good...
Well, Kimmy did a bad, bad thing. I wasn't going to mention it, but I feel I have to be honest in my misadventures (Mrs. Mediocrity , don't judge!). Twice now, Ty and I have met up for a sordid, no-strings attached, top secret (even though I told Alissa, partner in bad decision-making), affair. I know, I know, I've just about broken all my rules for my 3 month-to-clarity, but I can't help it! Call me "Yes-Woman."
But, as I think about our past two encounters, the question is: Is there really such things are "no strings attached?" I'm beginning to think not. It we were truly over each other, we wouldn't be doing this. We do quite a bit of "I shouldn't be telling you this but..." prefacing where we reveal to each other things we never planned on telling each other. For example, he told me he had a ring picked out for me. EEEEK!
After though, I don't feel the need to reconcile and reunite. If anything, I feel validated in my decision. However, I have to admit, reader, I think I've damaged him. He's so anti-women, anti-marriage, pro-drunken debauchery (as if to drink it all away). I feel fairly certain our broken relationship and my actions have led to this. In fact, during our last clandestine meeting, I made a fairly harmless comment, "you need a girlfriend." To which he replied, "Why do I need a girlfriend when I can just just have no strings attached sex with you?" While I can't deny we have the physics, I find more and more we just don't have the chemistry...
So, why am I doing this? Are we preventing each other from moving on and meeting other people? Are we just lonely and seeking comfort in each other?
I mean, I think I'm trying to meet people. In fact, I met a really nice guy the other night at my friend Lauren's birthday dinner. We talked all night and I felt we have a connection. It was like a glimmer of hope. After, on the drive home, I called Lauren to get the scoop. Her response was disappointing to say the least: "He's attracted to you, but isn't dating. He's had a lot of relationship issues and just wants to have fun. You guys can be friends, though." While I appreciate the honesty, but really? Haven't we all had relationship woes? Isn't that what you do to get past them, date other people? Spinsterhood is looking more and more appealing everyday.
As the spin cycle ends next door, this wheel-spinning definitely won't. But hey, we all get stuck in the mud occasionally before we get out of our rut and back onto the road. Riding smoothly toward our destination.
Living it up in Leisurevile: A collection
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Why I long to be a blonde by the ocean
Judging by my blog's web address, one would think that I live somewhere on the coast, within easy distance to the ocean.
That's so far from the truth. I live in the northeast, where all four seasons exhibit their splendor and wreak their havoc.
This week, however, I can live out that ideal. I'm visiting my grandparents in Boynton Beach, located on the eastern coast of Florida. Ten minutes from the beach. Glorious.
I went to the beach today and I was reminded of how calming the deafening roar of the waves can be. Now, this isn't a private, exclusive beach; it's a run-of-the mill semi-public beach. I've been there dozens of times.
However, going there makes me forget the spinning wheels in my head and focus on my senses, which I believe people can easily tune out.
The touch of the hot, grainy sand...
The taste of salt on your lips...
The sound of the waves incessantly pounding the shore...
The smell of the fresh, salty air...
The multitude of blues and greens, so mercurial, that color the ocean.
I would describe myself as a water person, so it's no surprise that I have such an affinity to the ocean. It's a getaway from reality. Could I get my insurance to cover the expenses as counseling?
Even though I'm thinking about renaming my blog, it doesn't change the fact I want to be a blonde (albeit dirty) by the ocean.
That's so far from the truth. I live in the northeast, where all four seasons exhibit their splendor and wreak their havoc.
This week, however, I can live out that ideal. I'm visiting my grandparents in Boynton Beach, located on the eastern coast of Florida. Ten minutes from the beach. Glorious.
I went to the beach today and I was reminded of how calming the deafening roar of the waves can be. Now, this isn't a private, exclusive beach; it's a run-of-the mill semi-public beach. I've been there dozens of times.
However, going there makes me forget the spinning wheels in my head and focus on my senses, which I believe people can easily tune out.
The touch of the hot, grainy sand...
The taste of salt on your lips...
The sound of the waves incessantly pounding the shore...
The smell of the fresh, salty air...
The multitude of blues and greens, so mercurial, that color the ocean.
I would describe myself as a water person, so it's no surprise that I have such an affinity to the ocean. It's a getaway from reality. Could I get my insurance to cover the expenses as counseling?
Even though I'm thinking about renaming my blog, it doesn't change the fact I want to be a blonde (albeit dirty) by the ocean.
Stop t-t-talkin' that blah blah blah
You're rude
You're crass
A binge drinker (Is there life without it?)
Ever hear of empathy? Comforting?
You talk entirely too much about yourself
with little regard to what I have to say.
You rarely say the right thing.
It's all about you and not
me,
we,
us.
Yet, in spite of that all,
I just can't seem to
shake you.
You're like a bad habit.
Wonderful while doing it,
but it's the after that makes me realize
this is something
I have to quit.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
bold as love
"So, I'm going to experiment with this love thing. Giving love. Feeling love. I know it sounds really corny but it's the last thing I got to check out before I check out" -John Mayer
Tonight, as I was washing the stack of dishes that had accumulated over the week of laziness, I had the epiphany that as a 26-year old gal, I've never fully shared a life with someone I love.
I mean, I share parts of my life with the people I love dearly-friends, family- but when it comes to relationships, there's a part of myself that I keep hidden.
With Ty and our long distance relationship, I built this "other" life that he wasn't a part of. And I rather enjoyed it. However, when we were together on weekends, I kept that other Kim tucked in the back: Friends, activities I enjoyed, my deep thoughts and feelings. I had a life with Ty and a life to myself. I preferred the latter. Obviously...
Even with Jason, the college boyfriend and first love, I kept things from him. I enjoyed my time with friends and this false independence I fostered when I was without him. I realized it was false when we broke up and I crumbled effortlessly.
I think it boils down to this idea that I create physical and emotional spaces for myself and it's hard to let people in. I think it stems back from childhood (Hey, I'm a child of divorce. Give me a break!) when I moved around a lot. My mom, Keith, and I would crash at people houses for a short time: Friends, grandparents, rentals. I felt I never had my own space to fill because it belonged to someone else and I knew the living situation was only temporary.
To have my own physical and emotional space has become so paramount to my life that it's made letting people into that space difficult.
A lot of the time I prefer to be by myself, but where does that lead the part of my that yearns to share my life with someone?
Maybe, in order to be fully happy and fully loving, I need to let down the walls a bit. Give love and feel love.
And be bold as love in order to put myself out there truly, regardless of the inclination to keep my space. Even though space is a good thing, it also keeps you blocked in.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
If I Were...
Borrowed this from Moments of Perfect Clarity ....
if i were a month i’d be june
if i were a day i’d be saturday
if i were a time of day i’d be 7:30 PM
if i were a font i’d be tempus sans
if i were a sea animal i’d be a clown fish
if i were a direction i’d be northeast
if i were a piece of furniture i’d be a bunkbed
if i were a liquid i’d be hot chocolate
if i were a gemstone i’d be turquoise
if i were a tree i’d be a palm tree
if i were a tool i’d be a screwdriver
if i were a flower i’d be a sunflower
if i were an element of weather i’d be a tornado
if i were a musical instument i’d be an acoustic guitar
if i were a color i’d be the color of the ocean
if i were an emotion i’d be indecisive
if i were a fruit i’d be a green apple
if i were a sound i’d be muffled
if i were an element i’d be mercury
if i were a car i’d be a blue Toyota Yaris
if i were a food i’d be a burrito
if i were a place i’d be the beach
if i were material i’d be cotton
if i were a taste i’d be sour
if i were a scent i’d be lavender
if i were a body part i’d be feet
if i were a song i’d be symphonies by dan black
if i were a bird i’d be a hawk
if i were a gift i’d be easy to unwrap
if i were a city i’d be sydney
if i were a door i’d be open
if i were a pair of shoes i’d be flip flops
if i were a poem i’d be a found poem
if i were a month i’d be june
if i were a day i’d be saturday
if i were a time of day i’d be 7:30 PM
if i were a font i’d be tempus sans
if i were a sea animal i’d be a clown fish
if i were a direction i’d be northeast
if i were a piece of furniture i’d be a bunkbed
if i were a liquid i’d be hot chocolate
if i were a gemstone i’d be turquoise
if i were a tree i’d be a palm tree
if i were a tool i’d be a screwdriver
if i were a flower i’d be a sunflower
if i were an element of weather i’d be a tornado
if i were a musical instument i’d be an acoustic guitar
if i were a color i’d be the color of the ocean
if i were an emotion i’d be indecisive
if i were a fruit i’d be a green apple
if i were a sound i’d be muffled
if i were an element i’d be mercury
if i were a car i’d be a blue Toyota Yaris
if i were a food i’d be a burrito
if i were a place i’d be the beach
if i were material i’d be cotton
if i were a taste i’d be sour
if i were a scent i’d be lavender
if i were a body part i’d be feet
if i were a song i’d be symphonies by dan black
if i were a bird i’d be a hawk
if i were a gift i’d be easy to unwrap
if i were a city i’d be sydney
if i were a door i’d be open
if i were a pair of shoes i’d be flip flops
if i were a poem i’d be a found poem
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
It's all about perspective...
Last summer, I took a digital photography class. One assignment was to take multiple pictures using various techniques we learned.
It was late afternoon and dusk was approaching. I began by walking around my neighborhood and, seized by some inspiration, jumped in my car on a mission for shots before the sky lost its warm, dusky glow.
One of my first stops was a hotel parking lot in East Greenbush, where there is a commanding view of Albany and the Helderbergs. It's one of my favorite views I've found since moving here. This was an exercise in "rule of thirds."
Next, I hopped on 787 and headed to Empire State Plaza, where the state capital and other government buildings are located. When I lived up the street from it I would go there often just to take in the geometric shapes and unique architecture.
I walked around, talking different shots of the buildings, the man-made pond located in the center of the plaza, and sculptures.
I took this picture laying down on the grass, under a metallic sculpture of two intertwning cubes. It was meant to show motion and composition.
I liked this picture so much I hung it up at work. I was looking at it today and it got me thinking about perspective. When I was photographing the sculpture, I took multiple pictures of the same object, but from the different angles and perspectives. Each shot looked entirely different.
This goes for life as well. Similar events and experiences shared by different people and the experiences take on multiple meanings and outcomes. People have their own way of seeing things.
I am always struck by how my brother and I have completely different perspectives of our parent's divorce. We both went through it, yet it shaped our lives differently.
Sometimes, when I struggle to understand him, as well as others, I wonder if my perspective is too limited.
Am I looking too close to see the big picture?
It was late afternoon and dusk was approaching. I began by walking around my neighborhood and, seized by some inspiration, jumped in my car on a mission for shots before the sky lost its warm, dusky glow.
One of my first stops was a hotel parking lot in East Greenbush, where there is a commanding view of Albany and the Helderbergs. It's one of my favorite views I've found since moving here. This was an exercise in "rule of thirds."
Next, I hopped on 787 and headed to Empire State Plaza, where the state capital and other government buildings are located. When I lived up the street from it I would go there often just to take in the geometric shapes and unique architecture.
I walked around, talking different shots of the buildings, the man-made pond located in the center of the plaza, and sculptures.
I took this picture laying down on the grass, under a metallic sculpture of two intertwning cubes. It was meant to show motion and composition.
I liked this picture so much I hung it up at work. I was looking at it today and it got me thinking about perspective. When I was photographing the sculpture, I took multiple pictures of the same object, but from the different angles and perspectives. Each shot looked entirely different.
This goes for life as well. Similar events and experiences shared by different people and the experiences take on multiple meanings and outcomes. People have their own way of seeing things.
I am always struck by how my brother and I have completely different perspectives of our parent's divorce. We both went through it, yet it shaped our lives differently.
Sometimes, when I struggle to understand him, as well as others, I wonder if my perspective is too limited.
Am I looking too close to see the big picture?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Anything Goes...
It's weird how life can get in the way of living.
For the past four months, I have been overtaken by the musical fever. I was the costume manager for my high school's production of "Anything Goes." Olivia, the old costume manager-now director made the job seem so easy and uncomplicated. "All you do is taken measurements and hang out backstage during in case there is a wardrobe malfunction." No such thing. The last few weeks were particularly hectic, hence the lack of blog posts and overall living. You should have seen my apartment's state of disarray. It invaded my life, yet I would do it again.
Back to it being "really easy:" Olivia definitely didn't tell me about the late nights, the multiple finger pricks from the countless sewing and pining of costumes, the "underwear parties" held by the actors, or the totally inappropriateness of the kids backstage (I thought I had a bad mouth!). While it was stressful, it ended up being a great experience. The kids were so amazing and talented. It was refreshing to work with kids who loved what they were doing, who were motivated, and who didn't hate me.
It felt good to be a part of something special. I also realized I am capable to doing something I thought I couldn't do. Having the right frame of mind goes a long way.
The 2-month mark has passed. Let's assess my clarity thus far:
Ex-boyfriend and love life: Outlook not good. Heaven help me, where are all the eligible bachelors!? I am not looking for a committed relationship, rather a nice boy who like to spend time with me. It's obvious that I can be on my own, but seriously.
Ty and I have been texting each other. At first it's been a random occurrence, but within the last week or so it's been more and more. Originally I thought it would be good to see each other and catch up. As I write this, though, I'm realizing it's not such a good thing. Bad idea. Apparently he didn't know there is an expiration date for break-up sex requests.
Job: Push. While the musical was an overall good experience, I am wavering in other aspects of the job. I am gaining momentum and confidence in some areas, like the work I do one-on-one and my abilities to sound halfway intelligent to my colleagues, and giving up in other areas, like trying to get people to like me and some of the push-in teaching work.
School budget woes prevent any job changes and I know that I'm here for at least another year, in time to be tenured. I'll go from there.
Living: Looking up. I still feel like I am in better place than I was 2 months ago. While the ex is creeping back, I'm doing okay with making my way through this crazy place. The secret is staying busy, staying physically active, and being thankful for what I have and not mad for what I don't have.
For the past four months, I have been overtaken by the musical fever. I was the costume manager for my high school's production of "Anything Goes." Olivia, the old costume manager-now director made the job seem so easy and uncomplicated. "All you do is taken measurements and hang out backstage during in case there is a wardrobe malfunction." No such thing. The last few weeks were particularly hectic, hence the lack of blog posts and overall living. You should have seen my apartment's state of disarray. It invaded my life, yet I would do it again.
Back to it being "really easy:" Olivia definitely didn't tell me about the late nights, the multiple finger pricks from the countless sewing and pining of costumes, the "underwear parties" held by the actors, or the totally inappropriateness of the kids backstage (I thought I had a bad mouth!). While it was stressful, it ended up being a great experience. The kids were so amazing and talented. It was refreshing to work with kids who loved what they were doing, who were motivated, and who didn't hate me.
It felt good to be a part of something special. I also realized I am capable to doing something I thought I couldn't do. Having the right frame of mind goes a long way.
The 2-month mark has passed. Let's assess my clarity thus far:
Ex-boyfriend and love life: Outlook not good. Heaven help me, where are all the eligible bachelors!? I am not looking for a committed relationship, rather a nice boy who like to spend time with me. It's obvious that I can be on my own, but seriously.
Ty and I have been texting each other. At first it's been a random occurrence, but within the last week or so it's been more and more. Originally I thought it would be good to see each other and catch up. As I write this, though, I'm realizing it's not such a good thing. Bad idea. Apparently he didn't know there is an expiration date for break-up sex requests.
Job: Push. While the musical was an overall good experience, I am wavering in other aspects of the job. I am gaining momentum and confidence in some areas, like the work I do one-on-one and my abilities to sound halfway intelligent to my colleagues, and giving up in other areas, like trying to get people to like me and some of the push-in teaching work.
School budget woes prevent any job changes and I know that I'm here for at least another year, in time to be tenured. I'll go from there.
Living: Looking up. I still feel like I am in better place than I was 2 months ago. While the ex is creeping back, I'm doing okay with making my way through this crazy place. The secret is staying busy, staying physically active, and being thankful for what I have and not mad for what I don't have.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
My Perfect Child Complex Strikes Again
One Christmas, my mom gave a book, Anna Quindlen's Being Perfect. At the time I didn't really get why she gave it to me. I remember trying to figure out what subliminal message she was sending me. When I read it though, it made complete sense. It's all about the idea of how we fall into this "perfection trap," and as a result of chasing inauthentic success, we lose sight of who we really are. Ah, mother. So wise...
At school, I am the costume manager for our upcoming musical, "Anything Goes." No idea what I'm doing. I have my creative and organizational moments, but this job has pushed them to the brink. We had our first night rehearsal (opening night is a mere week away) last night and numerous wardrobe malfunctions left me thinking, "what did I get myself into?" Just today, I had to pick up our rental costumes. I got ride from a coworker with a truck because apparently the boxes would not fit in little Erv the Yaris. Of course I went to the wrong location. My colleague couldn't bring me, so I returned to school empty handed and completed embarrassed. The rest of rehearsal was a complete wash because I was I seized with embarrassment and frustration. I was headed for a complete breakdown.
In my car, as I was sobbing, I came to an "Aha moment." I do this all the time. I expect to be able to do everything and to know everything. To be perfect. Inevitably that leads to disappointment and feelings of inadequacy. This happens in all aspects of my life. When I can't live up to these unreachable standards I have set, I beat myself up and make myself feel worthless. It's a ruthless cycle, but not totally surprising.
I have a perfect child complex. I am not entirely sure why, but I have always tried to do and say the right thing. Get good grades. Go to college. Get a job. Stay out of trouble. I don't know if it's because I have siblings who have not "stayed on the path" and I feel like I have to make up for them. Or because if I was perfect I would be liked. In any event, this complex has spilled over childhood and has invaded adulthood.I don't want the people I work with and the people I meet to know I'm not perfect. That I don't know everything and usually don't know what to say. But then again, is anyone like that?
Maybe I should give myself a break and accept my awkward, imperfect nature. Maybe life would be easier that way.
At school, I am the costume manager for our upcoming musical, "Anything Goes." No idea what I'm doing. I have my creative and organizational moments, but this job has pushed them to the brink. We had our first night rehearsal (opening night is a mere week away) last night and numerous wardrobe malfunctions left me thinking, "what did I get myself into?" Just today, I had to pick up our rental costumes. I got ride from a coworker with a truck because apparently the boxes would not fit in little Erv the Yaris. Of course I went to the wrong location. My colleague couldn't bring me, so I returned to school empty handed and completed embarrassed. The rest of rehearsal was a complete wash because I was I seized with embarrassment and frustration. I was headed for a complete breakdown.
In my car, as I was sobbing, I came to an "Aha moment." I do this all the time. I expect to be able to do everything and to know everything. To be perfect. Inevitably that leads to disappointment and feelings of inadequacy. This happens in all aspects of my life. When I can't live up to these unreachable standards I have set, I beat myself up and make myself feel worthless. It's a ruthless cycle, but not totally surprising.
I have a perfect child complex. I am not entirely sure why, but I have always tried to do and say the right thing. Get good grades. Go to college. Get a job. Stay out of trouble. I don't know if it's because I have siblings who have not "stayed on the path" and I feel like I have to make up for them. Or because if I was perfect I would be liked. In any event, this complex has spilled over childhood and has invaded adulthood.I don't want the people I work with and the people I meet to know I'm not perfect. That I don't know everything and usually don't know what to say. But then again, is anyone like that?
Maybe I should give myself a break and accept my awkward, imperfect nature. Maybe life would be easier that way.
The Sweetness of the Past
Songs have bizarre ties to memory. There are songs with such strong nostalgic attachments it takes me by surprise.
For instance, the other night I was on the elliptical at the gym. Dashboard Confessional's "Screaming Infidelities" came on my iPod shuffle mix. I was thrown back, way back, to senior year of high school. Graduation and uncertain possibilities circled the horizon. But that night my friends and me.
We sneaked into Point au Roche State Park.We made a fire (somewhat miraculously, given our lack of scout skills) on the beach and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. It must have June because the the air was warm and smelled like summer.
On the drive back, in Kara's van, the song came on. I remember the windows were down and the wind shooting through our hair. We all stopped talking and just sang along. Like really sang. I don't know why. It's like that song at that particular moment hit us.
So, when I hear "Screaming Infidelities," I think of that night. Friendship. The promise of the future and the sweetness of the past. And the feeling that things were changing. For good.
I think the memory is so poignant because we have all gone our separate ways. Some of us talk on a fairly regular basis. Some I haven't talked to in months and months. It's weird how you can have these intense bonds with people and then all the sudden you only remember them when a certain song plays while you're working out.
For instance, the other night I was on the elliptical at the gym. Dashboard Confessional's "Screaming Infidelities" came on my iPod shuffle mix. I was thrown back, way back, to senior year of high school. Graduation and uncertain possibilities circled the horizon. But that night my friends and me.
We sneaked into Point au Roche State Park.We made a fire (somewhat miraculously, given our lack of scout skills) on the beach and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. It must have June because the the air was warm and smelled like summer.
On the drive back, in Kara's van, the song came on. I remember the windows were down and the wind shooting through our hair. We all stopped talking and just sang along. Like really sang. I don't know why. It's like that song at that particular moment hit us.
So, when I hear "Screaming Infidelities," I think of that night. Friendship. The promise of the future and the sweetness of the past. And the feeling that things were changing. For good.
I think the memory is so poignant because we have all gone our separate ways. Some of us talk on a fairly regular basis. Some I haven't talked to in months and months. It's weird how you can have these intense bonds with people and then all the sudden you only remember them when a certain song plays while you're working out.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Can't Really Complain
Someone who I haven't talked to years randomly messaged me today and asked, "how's it going?" I replied with an, albeit quizzical, "It's going good. Can't really complain."
I got to thinking after that random conversation: While I have the tendency to complain A LOT, I'm actually pretty lucky. I have an eccentric, caring, funny family. Amazing friends who are for me. A job that pays the bills and some fun in between. A place of my own that I've worked really hard to make it mine. I'm healthy and working hard to stay that way (except for weekends, when it's a real slippery slope). It's easy for me to feel down and sorry for myself, but in the grand scheme of things, I really can't complain.
I'm coming off a good weekend. My family came to visit, which was a lot of fun. I wanted to get a hold of Ty and I resisted, which I was never really able to before. My friends Michele and Liz came over and spent time with my family and me. Annnnnd I booked my flight to Florida for spring break.
February is over and onto the long month of March. I'll need this attitude to help me get through it.
I got to thinking after that random conversation: While I have the tendency to complain A LOT, I'm actually pretty lucky. I have an eccentric, caring, funny family. Amazing friends who are for me. A job that pays the bills and some fun in between. A place of my own that I've worked really hard to make it mine. I'm healthy and working hard to stay that way (except for weekends, when it's a real slippery slope). It's easy for me to feel down and sorry for myself, but in the grand scheme of things, I really can't complain.
I'm coming off a good weekend. My family came to visit, which was a lot of fun. I wanted to get a hold of Ty and I resisted, which I was never really able to before. My friends Michele and Liz came over and spent time with my family and me. Annnnnd I booked my flight to Florida for spring break.
February is over and onto the long month of March. I'll need this attitude to help me get through it.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Inspired by Mrs. Mediocrity and the Pioneer Woman...
Two of the blogs that I follow are written by amazing and creative women. Both posted blogs that described things they love and things are they are grateful for. I decided to do something similar, tweaking to suit my own purpose. Doing this actually put me in a better state of mind. Thinking about what makes me happy and smile is a whole lot easier than focusing on the negative. I should do this more often...
"Five things that I love and make me smile:"
1. Black raspberry soft serve with chocolate sprinkles on a sugar cone.
2. The swish swish sound of my skis as I glide down a mountain.
3. Reading a book in a cozy spot and being so engrossed in it that I am completely unaware of what's going on around me.
4. Laying on the beach. The warm sun on me and waves crashes on the sand.
5. Sunsets on Lake Ontario.
Monday, February 22, 2010
And it's so hard to do and so easy to say
Back to work after a week off. I can't believe I was somewhat looking forward to it (gasp). Looking forward to not so much the stress but the routine of it all. The week off from school and dogsitting was enjoyable but the lack of routine wreaked havoc. Havoc on my diet, my exercise regimen, and my wall of contentment that has been precariously close to toppling over.
I liked being alone in the country, but even though I did things with friends and the upcoming musical, I got sick of myself.
Definitely hit a speed bump.
Feeling a little down.
Missing Ty. Constantly thinking about what he's doing. Who he is seeing.
Hoping a busy week and a good weekend planned can help me get over it.
I think I also have to realize that it's okay to be sad. Feeling sad doesn't have to pull me under like it usually does. I just need to stay focused on where I am, not where I was. And let the sadness wash over me and go away instead of holding onto it.
Hopefully I'll have a cheerier post next time...Something happy to end with, however. I love the beach and hopefully I'll be there in over a month..Ahh sweet release.
I liked being alone in the country, but even though I did things with friends and the upcoming musical, I got sick of myself.
Definitely hit a speed bump.
Feeling a little down.
Missing Ty. Constantly thinking about what he's doing. Who he is seeing.
Hoping a busy week and a good weekend planned can help me get over it.
I think I also have to realize that it's okay to be sad. Feeling sad doesn't have to pull me under like it usually does. I just need to stay focused on where I am, not where I was. And let the sadness wash over me and go away instead of holding onto it.
Hopefully I'll have a cheerier post next time...Something happy to end with, however. I love the beach and hopefully I'll be there in over a month..Ahh sweet release.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Dogsitting
For the past week, I have been been having some adventures in dogsitting. Above are Jessie and Asticou, sibling springer spaniels. Spunky, rambunctious, pups who have a taste for expensive shoes. Here is their daily routine:
-Let out and roll about in the snow and roll over each other.
-Breakfast in the barn! Not just any ol'dog food will do. Ingredients: 1 cup of dog food, spoonful of canned food, dollop of yogurt, spoonful of wheat germ oil for shiny coats. Whew! Asticou does this little spin, as if he's catching his nub of a tail, right before I place the food down on the ground. They sit, in anticipation, before I give them signal and they race toward the bowls and devour their meal in seconds.
-Play outside within the confines of the invisible fence.
-Come inside, racing through the house.
-After drinking some water, they pass out on their bed for their midmorning nap.
-Go outside again
-Come inside, wrestle and hump each other to assert their dominance.
-Another nap.
-Dinner! Same as breakfast with the addition of a puppy vitamin. These dogs eat better than some humans. Talk about a well-rounded diet.
-More outside and snow play. They dig in the snow looking for sticks.
-After another romp showing who is boss, there is a cuddle sesh on the couch. Asticou has some junk in the trunk so it's a struggle to get him on the couch. I typically have to give him a little boost. Jessie gets mad when Asticou gets some attention so he pushes Asticou to the side and sits right on my chest. Ah, sibling rivalry at its finest...
-One final out then it's bed time in the crate, where they sleep side by side.
So, as mentioned, they have a taste for expensive shoes. I didn't think they were the shoe-eating type, but apparently they enjoy a good shoe. I had two pair of shoes. A blue pair of Merrells from Kelly and some fake Uggs from Target. And of course they went for the Merrells. They were completely decimated. Pieces were everywhere, there was no hope for those cute pair of shoes. I was so mad! I think they are still in the proverbial doghouse.
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