{ 10 / 10 / 17 }

signal

wave across the water for me

let me know

that you'll be waiting ever for me

oh, i've been travelling

waiting for a moment of peace

these stormy weathers

got me thinking of how i want it to be

signal

light a thousand fires on me

give me no doubt

that i'm the one that never has to leave

oh, i've been divided

time and time again you keep the peace

give me shelter

let me be the (wo)man i wanted to be

//

everyone is in the back room taking their lunch and i'm sitting at my desk with a 140-calorie bag of popcorn and saint-saens in my headphones. somehow, even more things have to change.

//

at this stage, that seems like such an unlikely outcome.
but at this stage, any outcome would be as unlikely as the next.
what do you do when you really have no way of predicting an outcome?
you have no choice but to keep walking forward.
to watch the infrastructure of the future come together all around you.

i can't say i like it all that much, but the alternative is to stop moving until something seems certain...and i feel like the only certainty in life is that nothing is certain. ever.

i've had my time not to move.
and i don't want that anymore.

//

feeling many things in this season:
nothing is sure
nothing is forever
i can and should make choices that are healthy for me
^ people may not like how they are affected when i do so
   ^ that is not my problem
it is okay not to know
it is okay to let go
it is okay to say no
it is okay to let my true self show
i am stronger and deeper than anyone really knows
i can change and evolve; i don't have to stay the same
i might not be interesting enough for some people but that doesn't make me uninteresting
i might not be beautiful enough for some people but that doesn't make me ugly
i might be too interesting for some people but that doesn't mean i'm too much
i might be too much for some people but that doesn't make them bad people







//

embracing the new,
the fresh start,
the leaving what was,
the lack of knowing,
the exploration, the putting to rest, the discovery.

{ sunday things: spring }

it's been another lovely sunday chez moi --- i made a red russet potato dish that turned out deliciously, which i followed with a few spoonfuls of peanut butter chocolate ice cream (häagen-dazs, my favorite). i put a second coat on my first purple manicure of the month (my first color choice is aptly named "amethyst") and i've just been browsing some of the refreshing palettes that have been appearing across the fashion world.

i'll admit that when everyone started debuting their spring lines earlier this month, it felt premature. but a few short weeks (and snowfall in the double digits) later, the subdued brights of spring are a welcome sight to my winter-weary eyes.

the above pieces can all be found at gap. in my opinion, the shirt is just the right shade of aquamarine with just the right easy fit, the ballet flats are kept from being too sweet by a snakeskin print, and who could say no to a sleek clutch in the color soothing sea?

as we look to warmer seasons,
may our seas be still
and our colors bright.

what day is it?

having been out of town and skipping around these past couple weeks, i have to put way more effort than usual into knowing what day it is. my month so far:

oct. 3-4: last hurrah weekend with another moving-away-soon friend
oct. 5-9: atlanta
oct. 15-17: wisconsin

and there goes october. how is it the 4th weekend of this month already? this is slightly dismaying. my patients have always told me that time only goes more quickly as you get older. i never really imagined this was possible, but after 7 years of hearing this from them, i'm beginning to see exactly what they mean.

however, after being subject to this phenomenon (that of time flying) for so long, after feeling overrun by my own schedule and so permanently ADD about life, i'm ready for a change.

i want to be a person who is present. i want to be a person who can have a conversation with whoever i'm face-to-face with, WITHOUT having seventeen balloons floating out the backside of my head pulling my brain in that many different directions. i want to actually feel rested after time spent resting, not more frantic and more guilty about not having spent that time doing something more "productive."

this means some thoughtful and intentional change in my life, but i'm tired of being overly active and then completely checking out when i become so exhausted that i'm forced to slow down. i don't think i'm going to achieve total balance overnight --- in fact, i fully expect this change to take weeks, maybe months. i expect to relapse. but i also know that this is what i'm supposed to be doing in this season of my life. i'm not supposed to fill my every waking hour with activity and commitments because i'm not married and i don't have kids, and by gosh if i can't contribute something to the world in THOSE ways, i need to kick it up and earn my keep on this earth.

no.
that's not it.

and like so many times before, my eyes have been recently opened (quite widely) to the fact that i've subconsciously adopted truths about life and myself that are false. it's like having a cold glass of water thrown in my face --- both shocking and refreshing. i am awake.

_______________


sooooo, that's enough heavy ponderous life news for now . . . how about i share some things i love with you before we go?

i LOVE it when blogs do a "what's in your handbag?" feature. somehow i think the more mundane, less artsy things (old receipts, travel packs of kleenex) get edited out, but it's delightful nonetheless! {more on what's in this particular bag here}

i LOVE this coat, and those shoes . . . and the sweeping, glamorous, in-midstep feel of this photo. somehow it strikes me as powerful and vulnerable all at once. {more from this shoot here}

okay. off to take in the rest of this day,

on this tuesday, which is wednesday

i don't need to say much about the title of this post other than this: i love 4 day work weeks.

i also love the US Open, specifically that fiery Spaniard with the adorable grin (Rafa, for those who have henceforth escaped his charm).

i also love the sudden onset of autumn. the sun shines brightly outside, but the breeze feels like it's coming right off the ocean (albeit without that glorious sandshelly smell). sweating has been removed from my list of everyday activities. i can sleep. i can eat soup again. the cells in my body respond to the change in season like clockwork: autumn means death and beginnings. and just like that, my heart is altogether open and sad, i am fully awake and feel like hibernating. living in paradox feels only right to this poetic she-soul. it is now that i feel most alive.

i'm really feeling the calm of this monochromatic house today. those gently luminous shades, the subtle but elegant chandelier. the soft grey of the chairs. i'm so exhausted lately (it could've been the 4am bedtime i employed on Sunday) and spaces like this look so restful.

all the same, i still feel most at home in my explosively colorful bedroom. i've reached some conclusions lately about certain attitudes i've entertained that have been harmful to me. it's time to "zoom out & zen out", as i've begun to call it; i need to distance myself a little, gain some perspective, and readjust. i'm a highly adaptable person, but there are some things that take me forever to get used to. i'm much more flexible than i used to be {picture a little asian girl with perfect posture crying when she makes a mistake during piano practice}, but there are some parts of my emotional structure that remain as unyielding as a piece of steel.

i'm working on it. i'm learning to love who i am,
but that love can't come at the sacrifice of being a person who is willing to, and can, change. without change i won't survive. the perpetual renewing of cells. and it's not all soothing tones and cucumbers over my eyes. no. renewal implies death.

i believe that death is inevitable, and i believe new life is on its way. i also believe that sometimes they collide in me at the same time. not always, but it's possible. the rooms within have hosted the brittle wind of November and the softly folded buds of March . . . sometimes they pass in the hallway, and they turn their heads at the sound of the others' opening door . . .

in paradox, in death, in all that is to come ---

images from
this house tour

an amazing time

somewhere amidst the sleepless nights, long days, and impending chaos of this season, this week i had the thought: this is an amazing time in your life. don't waste it. and in that moment i realized: i have no husband. no children. no property. no prospects. soon i won't have a job. and it's because of what i don't have, that i do have all the freedom, wildness, and possibility to my name that i could ever ask for.

don't waste it

shiver and sway || umberlove

i also realized that i'm weathering a time of my life during which i simply can't maintain people who need a lot from me. i can support my friends through their storms as they are supporting me through mine, but i can't satisfy high-maintenance people right now. and you know, not everyone understands that. so thank God for her. and her, and her. and her. and her.

so as would be fitting for this amazing time in my life, my friends have been saying some pretty amazing things to me lately. we're talking about the kinds of amazing things that stop your heart dead in its tracks and kick-start your tear ducts into immediate, silent action. i want to pass some of these things on because they're too meaningful to hoard to myself.

when i fell apart:

our struggles are are own, and really can never be compared
in "bigness" or smallness" with someone else's
because they're not the one dealing with our distinct situation . . .
really really shitty things happen to us, but somewhere in there,
there can be the promise of reinventing ourselves.

i see this as the last few pages in your current chapter,
and when you see that last period and the expanse of blank page below it,
you'll know that so many things can happen in that next chapter.
{ kelly }

when i asked for her help inventing a pen name:
why not write under your own name?
when she read one of my poems:
this needs to be published. post-haste.
{ candace }

every day:
i love you.
{ jillian }

i may be a poor woman soon, by the world's standards.
but on the scales of heaven, i'm the richest girl in all the earth.

the maelstrom swirling at my feet is going to be disappointed
because i'm not wasting one more minute of all this heartache.

it's the third week of june?

i mean, seriously.
june 21st?
how did this happen.

so Federer just beat Falla, but it took 5 sets and some serious fear for him to do so. i am amazed by tennis players, and i LOVE watching big sporting events. tennis is so incredibly mental and i love how unpredictable that makes any game. also, Roger Federer isn't really that much of a looker (in my opinion) but his athleticism makes him a looker. know what i mean?

see? there's something strange about his face. but in his post-game interview he said, "i've lost a lot of games this year that i should've won, and this is one i should've lost." i respect a renowned athlete who can admit he really didn't play that well.

anyway, i can't wait to see how long Venus and Serena's earrings are this year.

in other news, have i just been insanely busy or is the earth hurtling around its axis extra fast right now? i can hardly believe the 4th of july is 2 weeks away. and summer is just about 1/3 over. and in my bones is a shred of autumn, sweaters in the afternoon, the early evening light. i am a chilly soul --- i am saddest in autumn and most contemplative in winter. mine is a beautiful axis.

okay.
back to being a secretary.
i just needed a break. y'know?

she

the spring will come

i don't share a lot of personal images from my actual world in this space. i've had negative experiences in the past with "friends" becoming way too entwined in my electronic existence --- calling me to freak out about my latest blog post, hacking their siblings' accounts to access my blog after i blocked them, or posting nasty facebook status updates in response to something i'd written. (no, i'm not even kidding.) some stupid lady from my church even CALLED MY MOM several years ago because she'd been web-spying on her own kid and stumbled across my then-blog. she visited someone's site who had commented on one of my posts and thought my mom should know about the "questionable people" i was "associating with". (again, not kidding.)

the creation of this blogette came on the heels of such an experience --- i was betrayed by a "friend" i'd been very close to for 7 years. she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me anymore, but still visited my blog excessively. this angered me. i had to relocate and start new, in a place she didn't know about. i didn't want to be weighed down wondering who would read my thoughts and what they would do with that information.

so i came here.

a quiet corner || she

this has been my quiet corner for two and a half years now. of the people i know in real life, only those i want to read it have been given the address. and surprisingly, i have been found by people who have become pillars of my everyday life, souls i wouldn't have found if i hadn't decided to create a fresh, unencumbered place to think and dream and write.

this photo shows a quiet corner of the place i currently call home: it's where i sleep and dream. as you can see, i have quite a bold, colorful, collage-like style; color, print, and pattern are splashed generously throughout my space. since i live with 2 other girls right now, my bedroom is the only space that's wholly mine . . . and believe me when i say i express myself in every inch!

thank you for being here, for partnering with me to keep this a safe, kind corner of space. thank you for accepting my melodrama, cradling my tearful poetry, and echoing my longing for beauty, understanding, and wholeness. because of you i feel like i can start sharing glimpses of me again, my world, the things i see.

k.

winter nostalgia

it's strange how sometimes the simplest image can evoke intricate emotions, sharp remembrances, and clear memories.

the juxtaposition of simple and complex in one instant is hard to contain; i feel opposite edges of my soul pulling in their own directions. i don't know how to stay whole in this.

the smell of your shoulder ||
your breath on my hair ||
red light from the city below ||

winter drive || bird and bloke

sometimes i think i take my independence for granted. other times i shoot like a zephyr down the highway and i'm overtaken by the yearning not to drive myself everywhere, but to be driven. to sit back in the passenger seat, close my eyes, and let the street lights draw headbands across my forehead. to trust that someone else is going to get me there. to be considered precious cargo. to be important enough to someone that he might go out of his way to pick me up just so we could have that time, that space, that travel enclosed together, moving through but also apart from the rest of the world.

i'm pretty content providing for and taking care of myself, but i have to admit that after this long, sometimes i do wish to be taken care of. i see my friends wearing their spouses' love every day without a second thought and wonder if they realize how fine and rare that garment really is. how comforting it must be to know without thinking that you always have a home base at any gathering you may attend; there is always someone to stay in with while everyone else ventures out on a friday night. it's no longer you and then the rest of the world; there's someone on your side. there's someone that would choose you. that would buckle you in and hold your hand and turn on the defroster and drive carefully, just because it's you next to him.

|| i remember
|| a distant dream
|| a feeling like this
|| . . .

{ the girl might live || bjork }

sooo, it's been a long year.

i know i'm not the only one who has struggled this year. things have been happening in my world, the worlds of my friends, and the world at large. heartbreaking, difficult things. and those events and changes --- the kind that leave you breathless, wondering what just reached into your chest and replaced your heart with black ice --- they leave a hole. they leave a cavern.

it's been frustrating to feel like i can't run around in my own soul without hitting deadly patches of this black ice and wiping out. sometimes i can't stand back up for days. and other times i can't stop staring at the moments frozen in the walls, happy moments that held no suspicion or foresight of things to come. what a tragic museum.

somehow i think the ice will melt --- this cold, this hollowness, is only a season, and one that makes sense according to what i've been through. but my happiness is somehow inaccessible to me at times, that happiness i had, the acceptance i felt, and the love i knew. it's stuck and locked away behind 71 layers of protective ice. and there's a gash in my memory of those things because now i want to know when things changed, when everything became a lie, when i should have known . . .

i feel like my words are clumsy and not coming out how i want them to, but the bottom line is that i think this year for me has to be about reclaiming. i must reclaim myself, my experiences, and my worth. i must reclaim the time it's taken for me to stand up again. i reclaim the truth that i am a woman created for a purpose, set aside for something magnificent, and that everything i go through is bringing me toward that magnificence. i'm going to take a hatchet to the walls of ice in my heart and release my frozen memory to new air. i must fight for what i want and what i love. i must fight for myself.

it strikes me now that the time i've spent laid out in pieces on the floor of my soul have not been a waste. being forced to lie down and be still, even on a floor of tears, has changed who i am and what i see. standing up, i usually only look to what is ahead and what is behind. lying down, i am reminded of what is above me, a white billowing banner of hope and grace . . .

this breath is new, this perspective is young, which is why my thoughts are jumbled and my sentences choppy. but if all the pain i've felt this year is because something is being born and made new, i think i can begin to understand and accept it. i think i can breathe.

so my reclaiming and new breathing begins with this:
this season's limited edition bottle of Happy in Bloom.
happy early birthday, self.

whatever this season may hold . . .
pain, remembering, grace . . .
ice melting into another sea of tears . . .
i can bear it.
with you by my side
i can bear it.



---she

days like today

on days like today i feel a phantom sadness, but the pale yellow leaves on dark asphalt intrigue me too much to give in. lately i look out of windows and see leaves falling slowly to the ground, and in my head i think, they understand.

you shine || lifelovepaper
{ click to enlarge and see the message }

i hate to admit this, but more sleep makes things better. why do i have to be so human in this respect? i want to be different. i want to be like a solar-powered girl --- the more hours i'm awake, the more charged i get. i've lived the nightlife, and contrary to being lonely, i found it absolutely wonderful. when you're awake at 2:30 in the morning, you make interesting friends. either that, or you have to make friends with yourself. both are excellent options.

do you remember
it was just you and me
that cold october

do you remember
drawing me in
your heartbeat
on the back of my shoulder

i couldn't have known
it would be like this
would i have loved you anyway?
do you remember?

{ she }

pretty good year

i am here with you now to say
the things that are unspeakable
so
listen.
{she}

the cooler weather has brought it out of me, this spirit of remembering, this silence. i'm getting ready to hibernate and i only want to take the very best thoughts with me. i'm too old and too young to waste any time with being afraid. it all sounds very bold, but i'll tell you i'm not sure what it means. i just know i want to use the time i have the very best way i can.

so i'm looking people in the eye, i'm smiling more, i'm not speaking when i don't feel like it. and i'm giving myself to you, to this, because without it what else is there? without love there is nothing. without love my life is just noise. what am i even saying anymore? i'm lost in a waking dream. i'm a professional daydreamer {all right, it's all right now --- over the rhine}.

don't you just want to be
in this bed, in this bedroom?

i am here because i want to be here, but also because somehow the 2 year anniversary of this little blogette passed me by and i never realized it. this space came to be in September 2007. it is still going. it has changed. i have changed. it holds the words i've written during more intense experiences than i can count. it holds so much of me, and much that most people who know me in "real life" might never see. it's been a portal to a handful of kindred souls i feel so privileged to have found.

(i've also somehow reached 5,000 visitors around the same time. most of you mega-bloggers passed that tally mark long ago, but it's a landmark for Speaking For Herself.)

gorgeous image found here

today i don't really know what else to say that hasn't been said already. it's autumn. there's been disappointment and heartbreak and rebuilding and maybe the slimmest white moon of hope rising in my heart. i don't know what the future is but i'm ready for the unknown --- having said that, i implore the heavens to be kind. i need to be quieter sometimes. i need to excavate this uncut gem sitting beneath my ribs. i need to unfold my wings. i need to breathe deeply. i need to:

read T.S. Eliot
finish Jane Eyre
wear more scarves
buy new jeans
write a few poems
learn to like tea
knit
remember
fling off the old,
put on the new.

everything is new and so unpredictable
i have much farther to go . . .
{rosie thomas}

like shook foil

constellation chandelier
spotted on AT

the world is beautiful, bright, overwhelming.
a million ideas clamor for attention in my head.
there are new books open all around me, pages fluttering.
new music, new faces, new work.

and underneath it all, the sound of high heels on the floor . . .
a staccato that will never cease to empower me.

(randomly speaking, there's a great giveaway
taking place over on Love. Obsess. Inspire.)

a poem by Walt Whitman (of all people)(thank you, mme.) serves as inspiration to the phase of this strange life i am in. i'm reeling out silk, throwing it into the wind, and seeing what it catches on. there is art in casting about, at least this kind, at least this time. the stars are bright in the inky darkness. new constellations are perforated on the night sky of my heart.

it is so funny, so ironic, to realize that it takes words to say that words cannot say what i really mean. ("it is also funny," he said this week, "that 'monosyllabic' is a five-syllable word.")

i wish there was more i could share, but for now i am in a vacuum and a vortex. objects, people, places disappear and boomerang back at alarming speeds, with surprising silence, at the best and worst times.

indulgences, lately:
lots of iced caramel lattes
jane eyre
knitting with fine, pale turquoise yarn
new handbag
new pants
new hair
remembering
staying out late (very late)
long jersey dresses
cilantro
mythology & cello

ah. there is more to be thankful for,
more to love,
than i thought.
what about you?

peace, friends.
---she.

in my house

if you pushed open the front door of She today, you'd see and hear many things.

please come in. stay
awhile. come & see.
(all images linked
to their sources.)

this morning i stood with still-damp hair in the quiet stillness of my room. i heard a siren screaming and my eyes locked onto the tiny purple dolphin sticker i'd put on my wall, right above my bed. i wondered whose life was changing because of that siren.

the shadow of a bird flying by my window broke my train of thought. i looked at the tiny white porcelain horse on my bedside table and went to pick out a skirt. life goes, and keeps going. it does and it must.

it is a season of death, of pulling lies out by their roots and kneeling in the broken earth. for the longest time nothing was planted, there was nothing to hold the soil together again. my landscape has been littered with distrust and abandonment and i've watered the entire destroyed garden with my tears. instead of cultivating the weeds though, my grief and sadness have slowly withered the ugliest plants and flooded them out. { this perspective on tears inspired by these words. }

so with all my strength i have sought out seeds, the right ones: seeds of truth, encouragement, honesty, and love. and after weeks of searching and sowing and more tears (tears do nourish the good seeds), by God my garden has sproutlings. and from the fullness of his grace i have received one blessing after another . . .

last night i made friends. and instead of feeling slightly sad that they are married and i am the furthest thing from such communion with another, i thought, the best thing about making friends with married people is that i instantly have TWO friends instead of one.

"do you want to get together sometime?" i asked, afraid she would say no.
"yes!" she said immediately. "we'll cook for you!"
"oh!" i was surprised. i was excited.
"what's going on?" her husband asked, attracted by all the exclamations.
"she's coming for dinner," she said.
"oh!" he smiled. "when?" and got out his planner.

we planned a date and this morning when i opened my email, there was a message from them with confirmation of the date and time, and directions to their home. i have been found. i am blessed.

"thanks for asking," she said last night.
"oh," i said again, because i didn't know what to say,
but inside i was thinking, you have no idea.

to be touched, to be known, to be lifted up. these almost-strangers' hands upon me, strengthening me, comforting me, acknowledging my brokenness and welcoming it at the same time. there was no shame in weeping, no shame in my face crumpling. i bent my head and they drew in closer, i could hear the scraping of their chairs. i didn't even need to ask, but i suppose my tears asked for me.

the nearness of other human beings is often something i have loathed. now i realize i never wanted it because i believed that no one would ever desire to touch me. eventually i knew the physical nearness of another and grew to embrace it. but once again i've been cast aside, unwanted and untouched, and again i dread being near anyone. for when i am near others, i miss the assurance of love through touch. i sense my unwantedness and isolation so acutely.

but there was something different about it this time. i was healed by the hands of those i barely knew whose touch i never could have expected. i embrace it. i am seen. i am held.

new friendships, new partnerships, new collaborations. i'm bursting with it. i have big dreams. there's a white in my soul and someone keeps putting up fresh coats of it, brightening my insides more each day. and this isn't to say i am without shadow, for the greys reveal dimension, depth, and perspective. i am not without my sadness, i always carry it with me. but now,

i carry my joy on the left
i carry my pain on the right
{ bjork }

deep breaths, deep cries, deep gulps, deep love.
{ mme. everkind }

turquoise snow

[ wish i was there :: perfectbound ]

i found this photo on flickr just now and it seemed a bright take on the now-muddy, 7-inch snow-covered landscape that is my metropolis today. come to think of it, this photo doesn't even have snow (or mud) in it, it just feels wintry, vintage, a little chilly, and clean but not pristine.

last night the snow was powdery and dry. fun to play in.
this morning the snow was heavy and grainy. awful to shovel off a car.

it's the weekend for holiday parties - except i'm boy wonder-less. so i'll brave the cheer in a solitary fashion. it will be fun regardless, but in my opinion such events are always better with a buddy.

hope you (& i) find time this weekend to calm down,
look up,
love, and get lost in wonderment.

---she.

on grit & gratitude

it's been a bit of a gritty week, for reasons known as well as unknown. i always feel a bit of a press on my spirit during this time of year to:

• do more & buy more
• do less & buy less
• place value on what truly matters
• spend good time with people i love
• find the perfect gift for everyone i know
• slow down; speed up

it's the rubato [ push and pull for the non-musicians ] that confuses me. i'm used to designating a destination and going there, not taking a few steps in one direction and then being pulled in another. it confuses my linear self. but alas, it's the rubato that makes life beautiful, the stretching of tempo, the swells, the deep breaths, and the joyful staccato phrases. music from the Romantic period is my favorite to play. what can i do but join in to the beauty of not knowing exactly what's going to happen next?

this season leaves me feeling a little wrung out but it also never fails to emphasize those people, places, and things that are a part of me i never want to lose (otr). it's hard to say goodbye to Boy Wonder at the holidays because i want to be with him in these special times --- but we each have our families we want to see, so we're apart. because we're not together on the actual holiday, we exchange gifts before or after Christmas, depending on what the circumstances are. in the past we've foregone big gifts and done something together instead; last year we splurged and split the cost of BBC's Planet Earth series. i think we've both been thrilled with that mutual purchase!

last weekend, we sat down to watch the latest episode of Heroes online and i said, "i kind of want to show you what i got you for Christmas now." he looked at me and said, "so do i." so since my gift hadn't actually arrived yet (i was just eager and was going to show it to him online), we decided he'd give me my gift and we'd wait on his. "close your eyes," he called over his shoulder as he went to get a bag from his room.

he came back and i heard some rustling and crackling. "what are you doing?" i asked. "it sounds like you're taking your clothes off." he laughed and said, "open."

open i did, and he was holding before me in all its glory this gorgeous coat . . .

i gasped, put my hands over my mouth, and sat frozen for at least a minute. (he was still standing there holding it up.) then i collapsed sideways on the couch with my hands still pressed over my mouth. i laid there for another few minutes. i started to cry. " i can't believe you did that," i eeked out. he laid the coat on top of my prostrate form and bent down to kiss me. it was awesome. it was unforgettable. i think i died and came back to life.

in case you're wondering, i wasn't crying because of the coat.

i cried because i was overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness and the knowledge that, in a significant way, i am known by him. he didn't ask me what i wanted and then go out and buy that exact item. he found something he knew i'd love and splurged.

that's something i'm grateful for.
other things: him. his thoughtfulness. being known. the color pink. gifts given in love.

things i'm looking forward to this weekend:

• it's Boy Wonder's birthday this weekend! so i get to celebrate him and everything he means to me.
• Over the Rhine Christmas show tomorrow night. always one of the best concerts of the year and one i never want to miss as long as i'm living in a city they play in.
• birthday lunch on Sunday with a bunch of people who love & appreciate BW.
• special birthday date tonight :)

what's some of the grit & gratitude in your life?
happy weekend, friends . . .

the winter dark.

hello friends.

because i can't do anything without explaining myself, and because the look of the place has suddenly changed drastically and you may be wondering why . . .

i've felt myself enveloped by winter these last couple weeks, and today i followed the urge to reflect my experience in the colors here. the skies darken at an early hour and i'm left fumbling with my keys at the car door, hoping i hit the lock and don't scratch the handle. the chill creeps in under the hems of my pants and down my sleeves, so i pull my coat tighter and draw into myself for warmth. the garish blare of HOLIDAY from every TV screen, street corner, and newsprint flyer makes me shudder. so i burrow into the sacredness of the season with everything i have. i give what i can to those who have warmed my soul and provided me with a place to stay, who have been safe harbors for my heart.

in some ways, i welcome winter with its earlier onset of night, since nighttime has always been an inspiring, reflective, deeply meaningful time for me, full of emotion & epiphany. because i am not young anymore and cannot stumble out of bed to class in comfortable clothes and a weary haze, because i must WORK and be presentable and wash my hair and be personable, for years i haven't been able to partake of the night as i wish. but now, with evening descending at 4:45 p.m., i have all the more hours to seek and find what we spend our lifetimes yearning after.

so in a world full of light & airy design blogs (which i enjoy, nay am practically obsessed with), i strike out today to glean from the winter weeks all that i can by settling a blanket over this place like i used to when i made forts under the kitchen table with my brother. darker, yes . . . heated by our whispered breath, yes . . . swirling with the outrageous courage of dreams that children have . . . YES.

letting my eyes adjust to the winter dark,
she.

early evening

(a winter corner of my room, taken last year)

good noon, all. it's 12:09. i'm still feeling rather unmotivated, even after a supremely unmotivated (albeit very productive) monday. i was at work until 6 p.m., went home, went to the library, returned some clothes on the other side of town, picked up a Little Ceasars $5 hot-n-ready pizza, came home, watched an episode of Joan of Arcadia, made some raspberry applesauce jello (it's super easy and SUPER delicious) for our Boss's Day potluck today, talked to the boyfriend, listened to some Eric Whitacre, went to sleep.

Seven Up Salad (the official name for my jello):
1 small jar applesauce
1 large pkg jello (you can use any kind, i use raspberry)
1.5-2 cups Sprite or 7Up

heat the applesauce to boiling. dissolve the jello in the hot sauce. add Sprite (if i buy a small single serving bottle, i usually use around 2/3 of it) and cool.

seriously - that's it! even an amateur retardo cook like myself can do this, and the entire process takes about 10 minutes. technically this is a double batch of the original recipe; serves 6-8.

OH. i also listened to the marvelously brilliant Emiliana Torrini a little bit before sleeping, only to stop the disc partway through because i was too tired to take it in like i wanted to. jillian susan, you are a bright star in my universe.

you are the thief of my heart
i have found nothing but good in you
i know you'll never leave me alone

i wanna beg you to stay . . .

for some reason i was just painfully reminded of a Situation that went on during my insane college years. i think the onset of autumn in the midwest (the bank marquis said 60 DEGREES on my way into work this morning - purely glorious!) has brought back memories of other autumns, as it always does.

autumn is my favorite season.
ironically, autumn has also been the saddest season in my life.

[i remember walking into my room --- well, i can hardly say it was "my" room since i shared it with two other people --- but my small lamp with the pink light bulb was on, giving the space an intense, surreal glow. i sank slowly onto the bottom bunk and felt utterly lost. i took my journal in my hands and wrote slowly about what had been, what could have been, and now, what was not.]

the window was open a crack and evening had fallen.
the air stirred my memory. i was overwhelmed.

[i walked into the room, his room, the room i'd wanted to be in all night but i'd been distracted. rather, i'd been so strongly focused on who was in that room that i'd purposely distracted myself. i always wanted what i couldn't have, and i was sick of that feeling. of that not-having.

there were other people there, too --- where did all the people come from? oh yes, they were my distractions, bodies i had employed to keep me from not having what i truly wanted. suddenly i felt cruel and irrational. they had no idea. but now i wanted them gone, and they'd followed me. i never believed in my ability to bring people along, and now i resented that secret ability. i willed them to leave. they didn't.

he sat quietly in his chair. the rest of us stood awkwardly in the room. they must have sensed the shift, the fact that now this was a two-person conversation and they were peripheral. but they wouldn't let go of me. i had cajoled and charmed them, and in doing so, i had tied myself to them, and now they wouldn't leave me alone. i felt desperate.

i am a seasoned swallower of self-doubt; i didn't think he'd been paying attention when i played that song for him a month earlier. i was not beautiful, i was not interesting, i was not worth his time. not because i wasn't beautiful or interesting, but because i wanted to be beautiful and interesting. i believed that something about my desire to appeal to him made me unappealing.

so it came as a complete surprise to me when he started playing that song on his guitar. at first it was barely audible, and then i looked at him, and i could hear everything.]

we shared a secret that night. i started to sing, uncertain; he nodded and kept playing, encouraging me. i wished everyone would leave. i wished it didn't mean so much to me, since of course these ethereal imagined currents i felt would never fall out of the air into our hands, real things that led to real words and actions.

i couldn't believe that he saw something in me that was worth sounding out that song for. i was so nervous at lunch weeks later that i didn't pick up on it when he said, "when you come over, it's like a competition for your attention . . ." he'd noticed me parsing out my attention to everyone but him, not to spite him, but to insulate myself against the possibility that he didn't care for me. i'd insulated myself against him. i'd surrounded myself with others until there was no way he could get to me.

i had already played the entire thing out and ruined it for myself when weeks later we stood in the kitchen, in a circle of people who didn't know each other all that well, and talked about Over the Rhine. (jillian, you were there - do you remember? i was so deeply grateful you were there, i needed you, your bold voice filling the awkward spaces, our laughter ringing on the backs of the pots and pans.) he stood in the back row, shy, and spoke up, spoke to me in front of those people. i couldn't believe he would speak to me so i rejected it. it couldn't be true, so it wasn't.

[on the phone a few weeks later:
"no," he was almost pleading. "you're a very important person in my life . . ."

"yeah, yeah," i felt numb to his sincerity. there were so many opposite indications, and added to the stinging voices in my head, i was already convinced i meant nothing to him.]

today i miss him. everything that was on the verge
of happening and everything that never happened.
i miss that house and that room and that boy and
those eyes and that song
i played for him, the song i didn't think he heard.
i was wrong.
i
was
wrong.

why'd you love me in the first place?

you were always closer than a brother

i can barely look at your face

stealin away on a sunny day . . .

funny but i feel like i'm fallin

i wanna beg you to stay

i've said my piece

i'm on my knees

whatcha doin with your suitcase?

tryin to hit the ground with both feet runnin

aren't you trippin on your shoelace?

stealin' away on a sunny day . . .

[over the rhine]