i think i can trace out my path this year simply by looking back at the people i met (or re-met):
{told in chronological order as best as i could manage with the help of my iphone}
jaimini h. - the tail end of last december
and into january and a bit beyond.
i have no more words.
ross e. - continually unfolding
our friendship. san diego x2,
ballard, drive down to oregon,
und so weiter.
nasrin s. - a lovely 10 months
of sharing a house with you.
spelt cookies. aras. hair cuts.
green hair.
neighbors.
lee l. - a movie script introduction
in the loo line at nick's pizza soiree.
perfect for the movie addicts we are.
melissa m. - it had been years.
and what an easy distance
it was between then and now.
sheree g. - instant connection
slowly unfurling.
i'm so glad we arrived.
to the years ahead, darling.
kathy & tom - i can never get enough
of my mom's family. and what a lovely
visit to colorado. sky. hikes. scrambling.
fruit. chats. writing. marvelous.
robin lynn s. - to one who has expanded
my mind since the moment we met for the first time.
and who continues to facilitate movement in still places.
every. single. class.
george l. - a brilliant and intuitive director.
you guided us to independence.
i will never forget that smile.
the cast of the play -
(will, jenn, jesse, eva, bill, fred, jon, morrie)
thank you thank you thank you.
jenn h. - you helped me crack
open lorriane. your presence is a gift
and your successes a dare for me to do better.
w. h. - i hold you gently.
you reveal my shame,
but i also softly watch you carry
a good dose of your own.
jon l. - scrabble. car pool.
scrabble. scrabble. scrabble.
and more srabble.
n. h. - re
cover(y). for us both.
this year has seen us walk some parallel paths.
thank you for letting the door be opened.
mike h. - radiohead.
pyramid song & the gloaming.
texts. emails. music. life. vibrancy.
jason i. - santa barbara.
lines. sun. the pit.
radiohead. radiohead. radiohead.
chris f. - santa barbara.
radiohead. texts.
jim ?. - i still don't know your last name.
but you continue to surprise me.
and you gave me the gift
of letting me surprise myself.
my entire meisner class -
(the cast minus fred, plus az, tom, unyoung,
monica, rebecca, luce, iesha, ryan)
you call me forward. moment by moment.
tom s. - musicmusicmusic.
you are a gentle spirit. open. and generous.
eva a. - you are a grounded. gentle.
strong. present. courageous being.
and you hold me so gently.
justine w. - six years and one hemisphere later.
you're still a pal. your cooking is still magic
and your laugh is still golden.
jesse p. - you were in my first class
with george moving towards two years ago.
but i see you in a whole new way.
az s. - nut. and sososo much more.
artist's way group -
(justin, matthew, molly, robert)
yes.
cameron h. - i'm so glad you sent that first message.
to photos at 10:15am. and emails.
and travel. and trunks. and music.
and connection. and sunshine.
sahra z. - your images make my
spirit stir. seagulls. 10:15am. and red.
with or without shoes.
david l. - 10:15am. and story telling.
and big ideas filled with life.
dennis & yvonne d. - you introduced me
to my new home.
and help make it a joy.
jeff w. - thanks to your email
we spanned the years gracefully.
like two dancers arching their backs
and looking over their shoulder
to smile at someone they never forgot was there.
mark j. - to beauty. and writing.
and memory/ies.
andrew j. m. - yet another span of a year
plus or minus. the stories we've lived.
the stories we're living. and those we have yet to record.
aaron k. - you came out of no
where and yet still somehow
a somewhere/when. and i'm
glad your here to stay for a while.
and to those who have walked many years with me: eden. lj. mom. dad. sibs. robert. katie. john. richard. sylwinn. laura. raelyn. michael. christine. martin. karina.
i am very blessed.
12.31.2008
12.29.2008
[brooz]
1. to injure by striking or pressing, without breaking the skin.
2. to injure or hurt slightly, as with an insult or unkind remark: to bruise a person's feelings.
3. to crush (drugs or food) by beating or pounding.
4. to injure the surface of (an ingot or finished object) by collision.
evidently i like to prod at bruises.
metaphorical/emotional ones.
it's a really annoying habit and i'm trying to get better about drawing clean and clear lines between my sore spot{s} and those sharp objects that are oh so shiny and compelling, despite the inevitable sting.
2. to injure or hurt slightly, as with an insult or unkind remark: to bruise a person's feelings.
3. to crush (drugs or food) by beating or pounding.
4. to injure the surface of (an ingot or finished object) by collision.
evidently i like to prod at bruises.
metaphorical/emotional ones.
it's a really annoying habit and i'm trying to get better about drawing clean and clear lines between my sore spot{s} and those sharp objects that are oh so shiny and compelling, despite the inevitable sting.
12.28.2008
winter break
.jpg)
a much needed vacation. complete vacation from both work and class.
early in, i decided not to do anything i didn't want to do, so all meisner reading and prep work for the 20 minute piece (with rehearsals beginning next week) begin tomorrow.
in the meantime, i got to know my sewing machine, made four scarves, and played a three hour game of scrabble.
and re-re-re-re-re-re-reread sunshine by robin mckinley. i stayed in bed until 2pm two days in a row and finished it this morning. it was still fantastic. and the stabbing pain that hits somewhere between my heart and belly (or both simultaneously) every time i finish a good book does, in fact, lessen over time.
today i read the last lines, closed the book, and simply felt satisfied.
i'm not looking forward to work tomorrow.
but i am looking forward to friends of all shapes and sizes
returning from their respective vacations. e, a, and s.
things that make me feel...
like an adult:
like a kid:
singing along to radiohead. but only in very private places. like alone in my car. or in the shower.
delight in beautiful colors.
delight in beautiful live performances (sigur ros, radiohead, kaki king...)
delight period.
fun and tasty foods. like ice cream in a cone and breakfast waffles.
worried:
reconnecting with lost friends.
cleaning my house on hands and knees.
listening to radiohead. the emotionscapes thier music creates.
memories.
going through old family photographs.
paying bills.
riding the bus to work.
taking care of a spider (ick).
burying my grandfather.
going out to visit my grandmother.
road trips (where i'm the driver).
cleaning my house on hands and knees.
listening to radiohead. the emotionscapes thier music creates.
memories.
going through old family photographs.
paying bills.
riding the bus to work.
taking care of a spider (ick).
burying my grandfather.
going out to visit my grandmother.
road trips (where i'm the driver).
like a kid:
singing along to radiohead. but only in very private places. like alone in my car. or in the shower.
delight in beautiful colors.
delight in beautiful live performances (sigur ros, radiohead, kaki king...)
delight period.
fun and tasty foods. like ice cream in a cone and breakfast waffles.
worried:
money.
acting. whether or not i am good enough.
my father.
my mother.
acting. whether or not i am good enough.
my father.
my mother.
giddy:
crushes.
new friends.
radiohead concerts.
sigur ros concerts.
eden smith.
sheree goertzen.
coincedences.
new friends.
radiohead concerts.
sigur ros concerts.
eden smith.
sheree goertzen.
coincedences.
hopeful:
that feeling in the pit of my stomach that is an infallible compass.
it always points true north.
(except once, and i'm working my way towards forgiveness)
hopeless:
it always points true north.
(except once, and i'm working my way towards forgiveness)
hopeless:
the one time the compass didn't point true.
confident:
confident:
my red dress.
radiohead concerts (with results that are shhhh).
doing well in class.
radiohead concerts (with results that are shhhh).
doing well in class.
beautiful:
fine feathers - nice jeans, a red dress, a green dress, etc.
dancing around my apartment with my low slung brown cords that hug my hips so well.
a certain (platonic) arm wrapped around me.
my brother's hugs. he has the unbiased grace and appreciation of a parent.
ashamed:dancing around my apartment with my low slung brown cords that hug my hips so well.
a certain (platonic) arm wrapped around me.
my brother's hugs. he has the unbiased grace and appreciation of a parent.
admitting to moments of feeling beautiful.
..........
.......................................
and
...................................................................................................................................
.......................................
and
...................................................................................................................................
oscillate like i'm a freshly tapped tuning fork:
random connections to people that surprise me - c, s, j, j, m, & n, just to name a few.
close friends.
old friends who come back out of nowhere.
class.
radiohead.
music.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
close friends.
old friends who come back out of nowhere.
class.
radiohead.
music.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
beauty.
12.25.2008
i wasn't waiting for santa
i couldn't get to sleep until three am. plus or minus. and my mind keep circulating back through my memories of being a kid and not being able to go to sleep the night before christmas.
i have two very distinct memories of trying to get to sleep on christmas eve.
the first was in alabama. thirty three adams street. the house we left when i was in first grade. i was sleeping on a mattress in my sibling's room for some reason. my father was out of town. my mother came in and lay down next to me and either took a nap, or feigned sleep to help relax me. the house was completely asleep and i was the only one (as far as i could tell) with my eyes wide open listening for some sound from santa. i did hear some noises that would have otherwise scared me if i didn't think it was santa delivering his gifts. i think i also briefly suspected my it was my father coming home late to surprise us. perhaps he was due back at some point after my 8pm bed time. i'm not sure what noises i did hear since it obviously wasn't the former, but i defintely heard noises.
the second was also in alabama. seventy-ten hampton road. we left this house at the end of fourth grade. i was sleeping on the left side of the room. i think the beds were stacked (bunkbeds). i had the top bed and sabertooth (our faithful black cat) was in bed with me. i no longer listened for santa, but i was so excited i was having problems sleeping. trying to force myself to sleep so the morning would come faster, i started counting to 100. i may have had to do it more than once.
last night, lying in my own bed, i suddenly recalled the green carpeting of the hampton road house. it had a vine-like relief pattern. it was a desaturated green. much preferable to the vivid orangey-red shag carpet of the hallway. obnoxiously good at hiding sabertooth when the hall light was off. he particularly enjoyed springing from the shadows of the doorways and wrapping his paws and teeth around our unsuspecting legs.
i also remember the feeling of being awake in a quiet house. it's a particular kind of aloneness whether or not one is afraid of the dark, which, i admit i have been on and off depending on the h0use (yes, even as an adult).
but i'm not afraid of dark spaces, even open doorways, in my new space.
merry christmas. past, present and future.
currently listening to: ten people up stairs making way too much noise for my oversaturated senses. perhaps the midol is wearing off.
i have two very distinct memories of trying to get to sleep on christmas eve.
the first was in alabama. thirty three adams street. the house we left when i was in first grade. i was sleeping on a mattress in my sibling's room for some reason. my father was out of town. my mother came in and lay down next to me and either took a nap, or feigned sleep to help relax me. the house was completely asleep and i was the only one (as far as i could tell) with my eyes wide open listening for some sound from santa. i did hear some noises that would have otherwise scared me if i didn't think it was santa delivering his gifts. i think i also briefly suspected my it was my father coming home late to surprise us. perhaps he was due back at some point after my 8pm bed time. i'm not sure what noises i did hear since it obviously wasn't the former, but i defintely heard noises.
the second was also in alabama. seventy-ten hampton road. we left this house at the end of fourth grade. i was sleeping on the left side of the room. i think the beds were stacked (bunkbeds). i had the top bed and sabertooth (our faithful black cat) was in bed with me. i no longer listened for santa, but i was so excited i was having problems sleeping. trying to force myself to sleep so the morning would come faster, i started counting to 100. i may have had to do it more than once.
last night, lying in my own bed, i suddenly recalled the green carpeting of the hampton road house. it had a vine-like relief pattern. it was a desaturated green. much preferable to the vivid orangey-red shag carpet of the hallway. obnoxiously good at hiding sabertooth when the hall light was off. he particularly enjoyed springing from the shadows of the doorways and wrapping his paws and teeth around our unsuspecting legs.
i also remember the feeling of being awake in a quiet house. it's a particular kind of aloneness whether or not one is afraid of the dark, which, i admit i have been on and off depending on the h0use (yes, even as an adult).
but i'm not afraid of dark spaces, even open doorways, in my new space.
merry christmas. past, present and future.
currently listening to: ten people up stairs making way too much noise for my oversaturated senses. perhaps the midol is wearing off.
12.22.2008
12.21.2008
lykke li and sensuality
i have a lot to say about the intersection of beauty, desire and sensuality, but bauhaus is closing {early!} in 19 minutes, so i won't even begin except to toss out a few things rattling around in my head the loudest.
1. i collect things that have quirky angles and worn edges. i seek them out and display them in a reverential manner and i give them the grace and space to be beautiful. but...
2. i exclude myself not only from traditional, luminescent beauty that i will never have the genes for, but also the above kind of beauty. the earned beauty. the unconventional. the idiosyncratic.
3. it was wisely suggested to me by a good friend {the same that pointed out #2} that i should view my body not as an object of beauty, but as an instrument of the senses.
4. enter sensuality.
5. i found this video last week and see her as a perfect marriage of quirky beauty and sensuality:
6. i bought her album, youth novels, on friday and have been dancing around my house all weekend to her funky, cheery songs.
currently listening to: dance, dance, dance from youth novels - lykke li
1. i collect things that have quirky angles and worn edges. i seek them out and display them in a reverential manner and i give them the grace and space to be beautiful. but...
2. i exclude myself not only from traditional, luminescent beauty that i will never have the genes for, but also the above kind of beauty. the earned beauty. the unconventional. the idiosyncratic.
3. it was wisely suggested to me by a good friend {the same that pointed out #2} that i should view my body not as an object of beauty, but as an instrument of the senses.
4. enter sensuality.
5. i found this video last week and see her as a perfect marriage of quirky beauty and sensuality:
6. i bought her album, youth novels, on friday and have been dancing around my house all weekend to her funky, cheery songs.
currently listening to: dance, dance, dance from youth novels - lykke li
a good sign
i had nightmares last night.
i was on this really tall bridge. miles up.
it was narrow too. and i had to get down, but the ladder down was too long.
i kept putting it off. again and again.
and the rail i clung to as my lifeline wasn't steady.
i pushed it one way and the next. looking down.
scared, but not as terrified as i would have imagined.
.........................................................................................................
and today i sent the email i wasn't sure i could send.
{even if i'm wrong} the case is closed.
...........................
fin.
currently listening to: lyla - cocorosie
i was on this really tall bridge. miles up.
it was narrow too. and i had to get down, but the ladder down was too long.
i kept putting it off. again and again.
and the rail i clung to as my lifeline wasn't steady.
i pushed it one way and the next. looking down.
scared, but not as terrified as i would have imagined.
.........................................................................................................
and today i sent the email i wasn't sure i could send.
{even if i'm wrong} the case is closed.
...........................
fin.
currently listening to: lyla - cocorosie
letitsnow!letitsnow!letitSnow!
the past few days have been glorious. wacky bus drivers. people chatty at the stops. lots and lots of walking. and snuggling under covers.
friday. day two. i really should have called in.
my bed was crying out for me to stay.
buses were canceled.
i didn't really need more of an excuse. but obstinacy prevailed.
this was also friday's ten15am.com submission.
so, yes, at 10:15am i still hadn't made it in. i think it took me 2.5+ hours to get there.
saturday. day three.
i ventured out with jasper in the morning.
made it to ballard, sammamish plateau, redmond and back.
only had to turn around once on boren.
ascended capitol hill on olive instead.
these were taken from my parking spot that becomes illegal monday morning at 6am, but i tried to move jasper to a better spot today and couldn't even get out of the spot.
sunday. day four.
today's ten15am.com image.
the courtyard from my window.
i swam for the first time in a year and a half.
walked from home to the ymca. 1 mile.
walk from the ymca to whole foods. 1 mile.
walk from whole foods back home. 1 mile
but it felt like 20
because i weirdly decided i needed all this food
(and way too many canned goods).
now settled at bauhaus, my local cafe. people and snow watching.
the below man is the smoker that is ALWAYS outside
be it 6:34am and i'm rushing to the bus
or 8:11pm and i am perched, writing.
currently listening to: youth novels - lykke li (i bought this cd friday night and a-DORE it).
thursday. the first day. waiting a looooooong time for the bus.
i made a pattern by facing the road and rocking back
and forth moving sideways by one foot width each time.
my only winter friendly shoe (or should i say foot friendly) makes a fun print.
i made a pattern by facing the road and rocking back
and forth moving sideways by one foot width each time.
my only winter friendly shoe (or should i say foot friendly) makes a fun print.
friday. day two. i really should have called in.
my bed was crying out for me to stay.
buses were canceled.
i didn't really need more of an excuse. but obstinacy prevailed.
this was also friday's ten15am.com submission.
so, yes, at 10:15am i still hadn't made it in. i think it took me 2.5+ hours to get there.
saturday. day three.
i ventured out with jasper in the morning.
made it to ballard, sammamish plateau, redmond and back.
only had to turn around once on boren.
ascended capitol hill on olive instead.
these were taken from my parking spot that becomes illegal monday morning at 6am, but i tried to move jasper to a better spot today and couldn't even get out of the spot.
sunday. day four.
today's ten15am.com image.
the courtyard from my window.
i swam for the first time in a year and a half.walked from home to the ymca. 1 mile.
walk from the ymca to whole foods. 1 mile.
walk from whole foods back home. 1 mile
but it felt like 20
because i weirdly decided i needed all this food
(and way too many canned goods).
now settled at bauhaus, my local cafe. people and snow watching.
the below man is the smoker that is ALWAYS outside
be it 6:34am and i'm rushing to the bus
or 8:11pm and i am perched, writing.
currently listening to: youth novels - lykke li (i bought this cd friday night and a-DORE it).
12.17.2008
cameron and sun-saturated skies
meet cameron everyone:
he is a fellow ten15am.com regular and one who i have shared a steady trickle of emails about painting, recipes, photography, music, travel, the artist's way, scones, cake, stories and more.
he is one of the random connections of the cosmos {as opposed to "universe", see hillman's the practice of beauty} that remind me that we live in a small world filled with people of great spirit.
he has recently been traveling through turkey this past week so, and after sending several wonderful images, many of them sunny, i submitted this image to ten15am.com with the below title:
i envy cameron's travel and his blue skies
he is a fellow ten15am.com regular and one who i have shared a steady trickle of emails about painting, recipes, photography, music, travel, the artist's way, scones, cake, stories and more.
he is one of the random connections of the cosmos {as opposed to "universe", see hillman's the practice of beauty} that remind me that we live in a small world filled with people of great spirit.
he has recently been traveling through turkey this past week so, and after sending several wonderful images, many of them sunny, i submitted this image to ten15am.com with the below title:
i envy cameron's travel and his blue skies
and a few days later, he submits this making my eyebrows lift abruptly in surprise:
another blue sky for you nathania
{not just a blue sky, cameron. the sun made me intake a quick breath of air the first time.}
currently listening to: ipod on shuffle - fog - radiohead.
12.16.2008
things i have learned because i ride the bus:
1. it is possible for me to be not only punctual, but early.
2. people (read: men) do need an excuse to talk to you, but only a little one. like knitting.
3. i should not sit anywhere near the mid point of the double buses {the ones that hinge}. blech.
4. this girl needs winter shoes.
currently listening to: ipod on shuffle - plasticities - andrew bird.
except for yesterday when i made the bus simply on merit of having ungodly long legs and a merciful bus driver who put his foot back on the brake and reopened the doors for me. he got a big smile and gracious thankyouthankyou. snooze buttons are always extra seductive monday mornings. particularly following a saturday night/sunday morning of good conversation and little sleep.
2. people (read: men) do need an excuse to talk to you, but only a little one. like knitting.
i participated in a bit of banter with several commuters last friday that i could tell started simply on merit of being female and being engaged in a less than ordinary activity. and then there was yesterday's entire bus ride long (45 minute?) conversation with the freelance writer/photographer who slid right up to me and boldly introduced me to his handmade knit scarf and hat. we spoke of politics, art, beauty, cameras, travel, plays, the pursuit of bizarre adventures, and his brief and unjustified jail time. i can picture his face and demeanor (including several small marks on his right cheek, peeking from beneath his hat). recall the faded black/grey of his skinny jeans and the shock of suddenly seeing his hair when he took off his knit hat rather late in the ride. but i never learned his name.
3. i should not sit anywhere near the mid point of the double buses {the ones that hinge}. blech.
my stomach is still a little jumbled from this morning. having my body experience one movement and my eyes sense another is really disorienting while trying to knit. still not sure why i didn't get up and switch seats.
4. this girl needs winter shoes.
ballet flats are stylish and tall girl friendly, but do not provide adequate coverage for anything longer than a quick walk to and from my car and certainly not for the walks to and from the bus stop. i get home and have to soak my feet until they revive from a state of being violently numb. thank goodness for the almost boiling hot water my building delivers.
currently listening to: ipod on shuffle - plasticities - andrew bird.
12.15.2008
the last p{ie/ea}ce
it was the wee hours of sunday
and we were curled up on my bed
bodies sprawled and eyelids drooping
and i was telling our story to new ears
and listening as they might hear it
.
only to find that the obvious
has been staring me down
until i could meet its eyes.
.
i guess i was finally done
looking stubbornly in the other direction.
.
it happened when i came to the place
where things fell apart:
suddenly your lie came forward as a lie.
.
and i am ashamed to admit that i knew it even then.
as soon as it was said.
the proof in the drawn out pause
before your dishonest delivery of one little syllable.
no.
.
but i wanted you to be the truthful person i loved you to be.
the courageous one that believed in us
enough to face the consequences of actions.
especially honest miscommunications.
.
and the irony rests here:
in discovering the most acheful betrayal
i have also found the most peace.
in knowing what was going on for you,
even if it was guilt for a mistake
or maybe just regret for misleading me
down the path of commitment before you left
i could feel that i understood you once again.
.
so i may or may not send this email
but in the end the most imporant thing is that
i have empathy for you.
.
and for me.
.
because in order to make you honest i had to silence my own truth.
and i'm finally
done
living out your lie.
12.12.2008
beauty/desire
two words.
i have been dancing a trio
with them
for years now,
and
have only become
awake
in the last few weeks.
desire:
your desire is your prayer. picture the fulfillment of your desire now and feel its reality and you will experience the joy of the answered prayer.
-dr. joseph murphy
beauty:
nothing so affects the soul, so transports it, as moment of beauty-in nature, a face, a song, an action or dream. and we feel that these moments are therapeutic in the truest sense: make us aware of the soul and make us care for its value...
...aphrodite, the golden one, the smiling one, whose smile made the world pleasurable and lovely. she was more than an aesthetic joy: she was an epistemological necessity, for without her, all the other gods would remain hidden, like the abstractions of mathematics and theology, but never palpable realities...owing to her, the divine could be seen and heard, smelled, tasted and touched.
-the practice of beauty
james hillman
and a third word suggests itself into this dialogue: deserve/ing.
currently listening to: la maison de mon reve - cocorosie
12.10.2008
(no subject)
i got a poem from you.
a delightful return on a gift given freely.
we preservationists hold on
to things. to people. to memories. and hopes.
so those rare moments
when we genuinely watch a door open. and close.
without needing to control,
or force, or coerce. are golden. those relationships dear.
so in the end. there is no need for apologies. and yes, maybe it's time.
a delightful return on a gift given freely.
we preservationists hold on
to things. to people. to memories. and hopes.
so those rare moments
when we genuinely watch a door open. and close.
without needing to control,
or force, or coerce. are golden. those relationships dear.
so in the end. there is no need for apologies. and yes, maybe it's time.
the bestest chocolate cake
so, i am pretty proud of my scones, my chocolate chip cookies {particularly with walnuts}, my banana bread and pumpkin spice bread and my blackberry pie {when i remember the correct magic recipe}, but i have never really considered myself a cake person.
until last friday.
it was my old housemate's birthday, and since her allergies require cakes to be made of spelt flour, i offered to do the honors.
pause. i should preface this story with the culinary epiphany i had earlier in the week. a friend made me brunch and added a few drops of orange oil to the french toast batter to make the most amazing french toast i have ever had. orange oil = fantastic.
anyway, i decided on an orange chocolate cake and since i was running massively late, and my housemate doesn't like icing anyway, i figured i could serve the cake warm and just put the icing on the side for people to dish out as they go along. enter, chocolate bailey's icing.
lemmie tell you, it was a killer combination. particularly the fact that i served the cake fresh out of the oven. everyone was gushing about the cake and demanding the recipe and i'm going to pass on false modesty and agree with them. i mean, even the guest who completed two culinary degrees from the seattle art institute was sincerely complimentary.
so, i thought i would pass on this lovely genius of a recipe since i just happened to be the one to stumble on it in the first place.
{i doubled the recipe to fill one 9 in springform pan.}
until last friday.
it was my old housemate's birthday, and since her allergies require cakes to be made of spelt flour, i offered to do the honors.
pause. i should preface this story with the culinary epiphany i had earlier in the week. a friend made me brunch and added a few drops of orange oil to the french toast batter to make the most amazing french toast i have ever had. orange oil = fantastic.
anyway, i decided on an orange chocolate cake and since i was running massively late, and my housemate doesn't like icing anyway, i figured i could serve the cake warm and just put the icing on the side for people to dish out as they go along. enter, chocolate bailey's icing.
lemmie tell you, it was a killer combination. particularly the fact that i served the cake fresh out of the oven. everyone was gushing about the cake and demanding the recipe and i'm going to pass on false modesty and agree with them. i mean, even the guest who completed two culinary degrees from the seattle art institute was sincerely complimentary.
so, i thought i would pass on this lovely genius of a recipe since i just happened to be the one to stumble on it in the first place.
{i doubled the recipe to fill one 9 in springform pan.}
cake
----------
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon orange oil
1 teaspoon distilled white vinegar
1 cup water
preheat oven to 350 degrees f (175 degrees C). lightly grease one 9x5 inch loaf pan.
sift together the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda and salt. add the oil, vanilla, vinegar and water. mix together until smooth (careful not to overmix).
pour into prepared pan and bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 45-60 minutes. remove from oven and allow to cool for a few minutes before serving.
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon orange oil
1 teaspoon distilled white vinegar
1 cup water
preheat oven to 350 degrees f (175 degrees C). lightly grease one 9x5 inch loaf pan.
sift together the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda and salt. add the oil, vanilla, vinegar and water. mix together until smooth (careful not to overmix).
pour into prepared pan and bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 45-60 minutes. remove from oven and allow to cool for a few minutes before serving.
icing
--------
1/2 cup butter (or earth balance)
4 tablespoon cocoa
4 tablespoons milk (or almond milk)
1-3 tablespoons baileys (or sub milk)
16 ounces of powdered sugar
(though i just started adding it until i had the right consistency)
melt the butter. add the cocoa and milk and baileys. remove and slowly add the powered sugar while beating the mixture.
enjoy!
hip bones
two long(ed for) crescents
swathed in a coating
of sugar plum dreams
as desire and grief were avoided
despite your hard edges
i hold you so softly
welcoming the return
swathed in a coating
of sugar plum dreams
as desire and grief were avoided
despite your hard edges
i hold you so softly
welcoming the return
failures schmailures
so.
i didn't tell anyone really, but i had my first audition ever last night. i lied to myself and said i didn't say anything because it was such a small thing, a twenty minute piece in the studio series at freehold this spring, but it was really because it was my first audition and i was terrified no matter what the circumstances.
and all the 'jonah day' sort of things that you could have imagined to happen did happen yesterday:
a problem at work arose just as i was leaving so i had to scramble to the bus thereby forgetting the resume i had carefully updated and printed earlier in the day for the audition.
i simply had to get it printed out again. rushed to nasrin's place where i wasn't even sure whether or not her printer had enough ink. got stuck at the ballard bridge and lost 7 minutes i didn't have. couldn't update my resume quickly enough {because i didn't listen to my intuition earlier in the day that said send yourself a copy of your updated resume} so i printed out an old version and raced to the audition place. couldn't find it right away when i showed up at the intersection and arrived (gasp) l a t e. but just by a minute or two. then, i misunderstood and flubbed up one huge part of it and spent the rest of the night trying to brush off my disappointment in myself.
and then, i had this really blah last class for meisner. and then i write about it trying not to mope and then i checked my email only to find that i got a part in this woman's piece.
yippee skippy.
and it should be quirky. and fun. and i'm not even sure where and how it will go, but go with it i will.
it's funny how lovely these little victories are.
i didn't tell anyone really, but i had my first audition ever last night. i lied to myself and said i didn't say anything because it was such a small thing, a twenty minute piece in the studio series at freehold this spring, but it was really because it was my first audition and i was terrified no matter what the circumstances.
and all the 'jonah day' sort of things that you could have imagined to happen did happen yesterday:
a problem at work arose just as i was leaving so i had to scramble to the bus thereby forgetting the resume i had carefully updated and printed earlier in the day for the audition.
i simply had to get it printed out again. rushed to nasrin's place where i wasn't even sure whether or not her printer had enough ink. got stuck at the ballard bridge and lost 7 minutes i didn't have. couldn't update my resume quickly enough {because i didn't listen to my intuition earlier in the day that said send yourself a copy of your updated resume} so i printed out an old version and raced to the audition place. couldn't find it right away when i showed up at the intersection and arrived (gasp) l a t e. but just by a minute or two. then, i misunderstood and flubbed up one huge part of it and spent the rest of the night trying to brush off my disappointment in myself.
and then, i had this really blah last class for meisner. and then i write about it trying not to mope and then i checked my email only to find that i got a part in this woman's piece.
yippee skippy.
and it should be quirky. and fun. and i'm not even sure where and how it will go, but go with it i will.
it's funny how lovely these little victories are.
meisner - day 21
one down. three to go.
it was that golden final day of the quarter where no matter how hard i tried, i thought {even if it's just that small naive part of my brain} that everything i've twisted my whole soul learning these past eleven weeks will miraculously show up with flashing lights. pretty colors. etc. etc.
and it didn't tonight. and it felt like i had to try. and even then it felt like it wasn't working. i checked impulses. i couldn't go to those daring places that so many other of the classmates found. i pounded on the gates but i didn't let myself in.
and.
and.
a
n
d.
i'm doing a fair job of keeping the self criticism at bay.
b
e
c
a
u
s
e
i know the glories of this quarter. i know them. the intense moments of breakthrough that happened with all the pomp and circumstance one could imagine, but never when one expected them. and i can trace them in patterns on my memory's skin. they have left their mark and
i can plot my growth on a graph.
landmark moments:
..............................................
sitting with jenn in one of the early weeks and repeating her reflection i am full of hope until i faced the hopelessness hibernating just beneath my skin.
...................................
sitting with another and sharing the biggest laughter i have seen or felt. laughter riding the crumbling edge of hysteria.
..............
the first walking exercise where robin pushed me to the point of rage. violent. destructive rage. and i stormed back and forth across the floor until my feet went numb.
.....................................................
letting go of results and really truly feeling the loss of my family's photo albums. and giving it to my partner. and the moment in the exercise where i suddenly started laughing.
..........................................................................................................
and the next class. same partner. sharing the gift of anger built up and given to another.
.............
and perhaps, most importantly, this steadily evolving sense of self awareness that i have never before experienced. an ability to hear my inner voice in a new way. the static on the line has dropped away. and my truths rest closer to my lips.
the entire ensemble is amazing.
robin is amazing.
i am looking forward to the break. to having all my evenings to my own bidding.
but i am also looking forward to next quarter with one part wonder + one part excitement + one part complete and utter terror. along with assigning us to read three plays during the break, we're supposed to ask ourselves what it is in ourselves that is hidden. what parts do we keep others from seeing.
i'm pretty sure i know:
my sensuality.
and my violence.
and i think the first scares me the most. violence, while it will be scary to find those places and explore them in class, is also something that no one will actually think i carry with me. will be at risk of letting out. will inhabit.
whereas, desire and sensuality? these are things that i secretly do want to own in myself and if they see these parts of me, they will also see {and judge} me for how little i deserve to be sensual or desire someone or something. how unfitting i am. unattractive. etc. etc. {insert further lies about self-image here.}
it's going to be an interesting semester.
but till then, a glorious break.
currently listening to: candyland - cocorosie
it was that golden final day of the quarter where no matter how hard i tried, i thought {even if it's just that small naive part of my brain} that everything i've twisted my whole soul learning these past eleven weeks will miraculously show up with flashing lights. pretty colors. etc. etc.
and it didn't tonight. and it felt like i had to try. and even then it felt like it wasn't working. i checked impulses. i couldn't go to those daring places that so many other of the classmates found. i pounded on the gates but i didn't let myself in.
and.
and.
a
n
d.
i'm doing a fair job of keeping the self criticism at bay.
b
e
c
a
u
s
e
i know the glories of this quarter. i know them. the intense moments of breakthrough that happened with all the pomp and circumstance one could imagine, but never when one expected them. and i can trace them in patterns on my memory's skin. they have left their mark and
i can plot my growth on a graph.
landmark moments:
..............................................
sitting with jenn in one of the early weeks and repeating her reflection i am full of hope until i faced the hopelessness hibernating just beneath my skin.
...................................
sitting with another and sharing the biggest laughter i have seen or felt. laughter riding the crumbling edge of hysteria.
..............
the first walking exercise where robin pushed me to the point of rage. violent. destructive rage. and i stormed back and forth across the floor until my feet went numb.
.....................................................
letting go of results and really truly feeling the loss of my family's photo albums. and giving it to my partner. and the moment in the exercise where i suddenly started laughing.
..........................................................................................................
and the next class. same partner. sharing the gift of anger built up and given to another.
.............
and perhaps, most importantly, this steadily evolving sense of self awareness that i have never before experienced. an ability to hear my inner voice in a new way. the static on the line has dropped away. and my truths rest closer to my lips.
the entire ensemble is amazing.
robin is amazing.
i am looking forward to the break. to having all my evenings to my own bidding.
but i am also looking forward to next quarter with one part wonder + one part excitement + one part complete and utter terror. along with assigning us to read three plays during the break, we're supposed to ask ourselves what it is in ourselves that is hidden. what parts do we keep others from seeing.
i'm pretty sure i know:
my sensuality.
and my violence.
and i think the first scares me the most. violence, while it will be scary to find those places and explore them in class, is also something that no one will actually think i carry with me. will be at risk of letting out. will inhabit.
whereas, desire and sensuality? these are things that i secretly do want to own in myself and if they see these parts of me, they will also see {and judge} me for how little i deserve to be sensual or desire someone or something. how unfitting i am. unattractive. etc. etc. {insert further lies about self-image here.}
it's going to be an interesting semester.
but till then, a glorious break.
currently listening to: candyland - cocorosie
12.09.2008
bit by bit
the unpacking progresses.
my amazingly comfortable bed arrived this weekend so now {thanks to my lovely friend, sheree} my bed frame is set up and no longer floating around my space always in the wrong place at the wrong time. my books are still spilled across my floor, patiently waiting for the color coding process but at least my dining room/corner is no longer filled with full {or empty flattened} boxes.
i hung my first decorative piece last night. a set of scales that used to belong to my grandfather.
12.08.2008
executions.
[warning: there are spoilers here for the play the adding machine -running at the act theatre in seattle through this weekend- & dancer in the dark.]
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
the death penalty.
dancer in the dark.
and most recently the adding machine.
they evoke so much grief. always disproportionate to the circumstances. and i can't explain it.
i saw the adding machine this weekend and never expected the places it would take me. halfway through the main character is electrocuted. at the top of the scene, his wife of so many harsh words comes to say good bye with a plate of ham and eggs and the first and only tenderness we see from her.
and.
almost immediately i started crying. and crying. and crying. and the tears sped up and i had to hold my breath so the sobs couldn't escape. i didn't want my neighbors {or the actors} to hear my inexplicable monsoon.
the main character, mr. zero, was dead to her already and dead even to the sudden {and sometimes conflicting} gestures of softness she offered.
but the change in her was tragic.
the knowledge of his impending death so present.
her sharp edges blurred.
a few hits of color were added.
and even the conflict about another woman evaporated the moment the men came to take her husband and she fought all the fight in her to reach him.
everything in her hurled against the guard.
to stop them.
or to touch him.
last chance.
it's the final fight for the things we love above all others where our bodies take us places we can't anticipate and even in the face of certain death, failure is not considered and the efforts are never made with an awareness of futility.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i just just re-watched this last clip of dancer in the dark. again it's these final moments that are about the most tragic thing that i can possibly imagine. i don't think there is any movie or even personal life experience that i have cried as hard for as this last scene.
her last song:
dear gene, of course you are here
and now there's nothing to fear
oooh, i should have known
oooh, i was never alone
this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is so quiet
and no one takes a spin
this is the next-to-last song
and that's all, all
remember what i have said
remember, wrap up the bread
do this, do that, make your bed
this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is quiet
and no-one takes a spin
this is the next-to-last song
and that's all ...
oooooooooooo
and on the other side of this theme, is my own experience from about seven or eight years ago. simultaneously limited and infinite by its location in the dream world.
my father was being killed {the first words i wrote were: put down} by lethal injection and they had already given him the first of the two shots.
i remember the way he was strapped down.
and the colors of the leather and the table and his insane asylum uniform.
and the way he had already begun to fade.
disappearing.
slipping away.
letting go.
the dream ended before he died, but the threat/certainty/despair was not an easy one to shake. nearing a decade later and the aftertaste still lingers.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooX....................................................
currently listening to: floating in the fourth - frightened rabbit
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
the death penalty.
dancer in the dark.
and most recently the adding machine.
they evoke so much grief. always disproportionate to the circumstances. and i can't explain it.
i saw the adding machine this weekend and never expected the places it would take me. halfway through the main character is electrocuted. at the top of the scene, his wife of so many harsh words comes to say good bye with a plate of ham and eggs and the first and only tenderness we see from her.
and.
almost immediately i started crying. and crying. and crying. and the tears sped up and i had to hold my breath so the sobs couldn't escape. i didn't want my neighbors {or the actors} to hear my inexplicable monsoon.
the main character, mr. zero, was dead to her already and dead even to the sudden {and sometimes conflicting} gestures of softness she offered.
but the change in her was tragic.
the knowledge of his impending death so present.
her sharp edges blurred.
a few hits of color were added.
and even the conflict about another woman evaporated the moment the men came to take her husband and she fought all the fight in her to reach him.
everything in her hurled against the guard.
to stop them.
or to touch him.
last chance.
it's the final fight for the things we love above all others where our bodies take us places we can't anticipate and even in the face of certain death, failure is not considered and the efforts are never made with an awareness of futility.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
i just just re-watched this last clip of dancer in the dark. again it's these final moments that are about the most tragic thing that i can possibly imagine. i don't think there is any movie or even personal life experience that i have cried as hard for as this last scene.
her last song:
dear gene, of course you are here
and now there's nothing to fear
oooh, i should have known
oooh, i was never alone
this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is so quiet
and no one takes a spin
this is the next-to-last song
and that's all, all
remember what i have said
remember, wrap up the bread
do this, do that, make your bed
this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is quiet
and no-one takes a spin
this is the next-to-last song
and that's all ...
oooooooooooo
and on the other side of this theme, is my own experience from about seven or eight years ago. simultaneously limited and infinite by its location in the dream world.
my father was being killed {the first words i wrote were: put down} by lethal injection and they had already given him the first of the two shots.
i remember the way he was strapped down.
and the colors of the leather and the table and his insane asylum uniform.
and the way he had already begun to fade.
disappearing.
slipping away.
letting go.
the dream ended before he died, but the threat/certainty/despair was not an easy one to shake. nearing a decade later and the aftertaste still lingers.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooX....................................................
currently listening to: floating in the fourth - frightened rabbit
my neighbors - pt 1.
i have met one person in the building (aside from the lovely management trio - including the six year old they just adopted). she's on my floor and her name is lisa. i saw her enter earlier in the evening on saturday and then tapped on her door when i realized i do not have a can opener. the previous one i owned i had given to a roommate who annoyingly would always take the house's ONE canopener with her to work leaving the house (and the other four housemates) nothing. when new roommates came in (with their own canopeners) and she left, i sent it with her. anyway, lisa saved the coconut curry that sheree was making for us in my kitchen while i puttered around and unpacked a little before we went to the play that night {more on that play later}.
and i have met a few people on the streets and not just the {mom, close your eyes} slightly uncomfortable encounters with the addicts and transients of the neighborhood. i met mariko, a girl from my high school crew team, outside my building one night last week. and last night i met a good samaratin guy who helped me carry the table top of my dining room table into the building and next to the elevator. no, i didn't let him help me carry it to my door up five floors even though i could tell he was willing to help further and not a threat by any means. and the "unthreatening" assessment was made even before he assured me he wasn't trying to steal it. i quipped that if he could run faster than me carrying it by himself, he probably deserved it anyway.
have i mentioned this before? no? well then: i love my neighborhood.
currently listening to: 2+2=5 {live} - radiohead
and i have met a few people on the streets and not just the {mom, close your eyes} slightly uncomfortable encounters with the addicts and transients of the neighborhood. i met mariko, a girl from my high school crew team, outside my building one night last week. and last night i met a good samaratin guy who helped me carry the table top of my dining room table into the building and next to the elevator. no, i didn't let him help me carry it to my door up five floors even though i could tell he was willing to help further and not a threat by any means. and the "unthreatening" assessment was made even before he assured me he wasn't trying to steal it. i quipped that if he could run faster than me carrying it by himself, he probably deserved it anyway.
have i mentioned this before? no? well then: i love my neighborhood.
currently listening to: 2+2=5 {live} - radiohead
seagulls, sahra and 10:15am
i have made some new friends recently via ten15am.com. this one is sahra zanetti. we've had a few email thread about objects suspended in space. and birds. and art. of course {and always} art. these are her saturday and sunday submissions to the site. and i'm honored to accept sunday's (top one) as being inspired by me and our conversations. actually, backing up a day or two, my red shoe photo shoot below was inspired by her. she has some great red shoes that are featured every so often in her 10:15am images.
zanetti - the seagull sees farthest who flies highest {french proverb}
zanetti - a squabble of seagulls
currently listening to: red red red - fiona apple
12.05.2008
meisner - day 19 & 20
we're being asked to do scenes.
simple enough.
until you realize we're also being asked to rub our belly, pat our head, and sing our abc's backwards while hopping on one foot and carrying 15 umbrellas across a balance beam placed haphazardly on the floor.
it's hard. and we have one week to let it sink in before the final showing in class this tuesday. not the final showing of the scene that we'll do at the end. but it's final enough. and daunting.
simple enough.
until you realize we're also being asked to rub our belly, pat our head, and sing our abc's backwards while hopping on one foot and carrying 15 umbrellas across a balance beam placed haphazardly on the floor.
it's hard. and we have one week to let it sink in before the final showing in class this tuesday. not the final showing of the scene that we'll do at the end. but it's final enough. and daunting.
12.04.08 - 10:15-10:16am PST
yesterday's ten15am.com photo shoot.and the comment that was left on the site:
i really like these walkingpictures… you can tell a lot about a persons shoes : ) david bowie on the ipod?
-edwin
my response:
ha! is david bowie what you see? i haven’t gone out of my way to listen to him probably ever, but the goblin king in the labrynth was one of my early crushes as a little girl {sheepish smile}.
i wasn’t listening to music at the time, but i think i had a bit of a bounce in my step, so it probably would have been “float on” by modest mouse or “the reckoner” by radiohead. :}
..................................................
this was the other image i took but didn't make the cut:
currently listening to: analyse {from the basement} - thom yorke
12.04.2008
i missed the bus to work today.
taking the bus to work will do wonders for my sense of punctuality because i can't just be on time for the bus, i have to be at least 4 minutes early in case she decides to pull away a minute or two early. again. my penance for being late was sitting on the freezing metal bench while waiting for the next one 36 minutes later. seriously, who puts metal heat-leaching seats at an outdoor bus stop?!?! this isn't hawaii, folks!
i did get my three pages of free association writing in for the day. that was something. and then i nodded off for the rest of the trip to work.
something i did run into this morning {further proof that the way we do the little things is the way we do the big things} was this reluctance to change course once i had missed the bus. i had decided to take the bus this morning and take it i would. even if it made more sense to walk back home and drive myself so that i could bring my sister this large plastic bin i don't need any more and maybe clear out some boxes to boot. i could have taken the bus tomorrow instead and been on time both days.
but.
i couldn't. i sat on the freezing cold bench in this state of perpetual indecision and finally realized i couldn't change my plan because that would have been admitting a failure. a failure for me getting up in time in the morning, a failure of setting boundaries the night before so i could get to bed on time {oh, i'll unpack just one more box of books...after this next one...}, and perhaps most of all, a failure of something i had already invested my time and interest in: taking bus this morning.
and that last bit really is the key. i don't like letting go of things where i have invested something. anything. because i want the investment to prove worthy. i want to have my input reciprocated. i want to see something come back to me forcing this other thing/person/event to be a mirror of myself, and if it reflects a failure then i'm a failure too.
i see this most often in relationships. things i should let die but can't because of what will that say about my ability to understand and empathize with others. i have left myself high and dry in some pretty destructive situations because i didn't want to break away from someone and forever be a terriblenogood sort of person. and even in the case of casual friends, i find myself maintaining several very...uninspiring "friendships" with people i don't connect with on a significant level out of some misplaced sense of obligation. not that everyone who i interact with has to be able to relate in these deep and meaningful ways, but merely that there needs to be some form of kinship and delight that i share with another person, even if it's just that this person has good taste in shoes, loves the red tree or possesses a quirky sense of humor.
so in a way, missing the bus provided an illuminating dilemma. my radar is now trained on these things in my life that have passed their pull date, even by a few seconds, so that i can begin to make some adjustments and let things go without threatening my sense of self worth. i've got a great sense of momentum on this task already since i just went through all my possessions while packing and let go of the things that no longer have significant meaning or potential. actually, i'm still going through things as i settle in to the new place. every thing i recyle or take to good will or trash takes a mountain off by back.
bit by bit i'm sloughing off this old skin.
what a glorious start on my 27th year. all because of a move i didn't want to make. funny that.
i did get my three pages of free association writing in for the day. that was something. and then i nodded off for the rest of the trip to work.
something i did run into this morning {further proof that the way we do the little things is the way we do the big things} was this reluctance to change course once i had missed the bus. i had decided to take the bus this morning and take it i would. even if it made more sense to walk back home and drive myself so that i could bring my sister this large plastic bin i don't need any more and maybe clear out some boxes to boot. i could have taken the bus tomorrow instead and been on time both days.
but.
i couldn't. i sat on the freezing cold bench in this state of perpetual indecision and finally realized i couldn't change my plan because that would have been admitting a failure. a failure for me getting up in time in the morning, a failure of setting boundaries the night before so i could get to bed on time {oh, i'll unpack just one more box of books...after this next one...}, and perhaps most of all, a failure of something i had already invested my time and interest in: taking bus this morning.
and that last bit really is the key. i don't like letting go of things where i have invested something. anything. because i want the investment to prove worthy. i want to have my input reciprocated. i want to see something come back to me forcing this other thing/person/event to be a mirror of myself, and if it reflects a failure then i'm a failure too.
i see this most often in relationships. things i should let die but can't because of what will that say about my ability to understand and empathize with others. i have left myself high and dry in some pretty destructive situations because i didn't want to break away from someone and forever be a terriblenogood sort of person. and even in the case of casual friends, i find myself maintaining several very...uninspiring "friendships" with people i don't connect with on a significant level out of some misplaced sense of obligation. not that everyone who i interact with has to be able to relate in these deep and meaningful ways, but merely that there needs to be some form of kinship and delight that i share with another person, even if it's just that this person has good taste in shoes, loves the red tree or possesses a quirky sense of humor.
so in a way, missing the bus provided an illuminating dilemma. my radar is now trained on these things in my life that have passed their pull date, even by a few seconds, so that i can begin to make some adjustments and let things go without threatening my sense of self worth. i've got a great sense of momentum on this task already since i just went through all my possessions while packing and let go of the things that no longer have significant meaning or potential. actually, i'm still going through things as i settle in to the new place. every thing i recyle or take to good will or trash takes a mountain off by back.
bit by bit i'm sloughing off this old skin.
what a glorious start on my 27th year. all because of a move i didn't want to make. funny that.
12.03.2008
6 arms
it's a local pub about two blocks away from my studio with zaney little details in their decor that make me happy.
they also let you substitute tatertots in the place of frenchfries when ordering fish and chips. yay for life's simple and fried pleasures.
12.02.2008
spaces.
i don't have internet at home yet. before i sign up to pay comcast a lot of money to give me internet, i thought i would first try to go with one of my neighbors {either "alexsomethingorother" or "hair goddess"}. meanwhile, i don't really have internet access and it's frustrating. i can't write when i want {i think there is a way i can post via email, but i still have yet to figure it out}, can't browse, figure out the bus schedule, etc. i can check email thanks to my lovely phone, but i'm feeling limited by only having consistent access at work. i don't want to run my recent thoughts through the sterile and cubicle environment i sit in here.
so, a little bit of a space from this space while i organize my landing-place-space.
it has forced me to be good about writing in my journal and that three dimensional space is quite lovely too and has benefits of its own.
paper.
pens.
scribbles.
cursive.
leather.
currently listening to: ipod on shuffle - beth orton
so, a little bit of a space from this space while i organize my landing-place-space.
it has forced me to be good about writing in my journal and that three dimensional space is quite lovely too and has benefits of its own.
paper.
pens.
scribbles.
cursive.
leather.
currently listening to: ipod on shuffle - beth orton
11.30.2008
radiohead {part 3,591 and a half}
yes. i know very few reading will not groan inwardly to see that nine letter word gracing the title of this email.
but.
i.
can't.
help.
it.
their music gives life to a part of me that i can't really fully explain. describe. articulate into english or any other language for that matter. even art. which hurts the most. i want to make art that speaks of how my self can be moved to these places. of what colors i sense when i am living in their songs. at the beauty and vibrancy i discover time and time again just by entering the doorway their music provides.
i want to create art that offers doorways like this to other people.
and in the meantime, i know i have been walking the yellow brick road of the recent radiohead tour hoping to find something/anything at the other end. an emerald city. a wizard. a magical spell to get back to my very own kansas. something. and it's been a journey i still have not found words to use to preserve it. i need to find an assemblage of verbal formaldehyde. something, anything to tether the entirety of my experience at the three shows this summer {and perhaps, more importantly, what i have left in my hands after the shows}.
and the driving desire to go back and rewrite (yes, i have several drafts) and reremember is still strong and i've been futilely struggling with something in me that is preventing me from going back to such a tender and charged place.
and.
it's coming back in bits and bobs with the approach of the spring '09 tour to central and south america.
it turns out that the brazil shows are happening before my class gets out and those are the ones i had my heart set on. i can make it to chile for two days at a festival, but i don't really want to wade through a whole festival to see them. and for some reason, chile doesn't have as much excitement for me as brazil does.
and rustling up from somewhere {or nowhere} are questions such as: why this driving need to see them? will you actually let yourself feel the show now {i failed three times in a row this summer}? is it really worth the time and money? sure if i had the latter growing on trees, but it would be a s t r e t c h for me to make it, so why am i willing to stretch so far to see them without first considering spending the money you really don't have anyway to see my father who is going blind from diabetes over in austria?
and a few answers surface as well: yes, i think i will let myself feel. i had a breakthrough in acting class that i think relates, of anticipating an emotional result and stopping myself from experiencing anything. it shouldn't be a problem. and yes, it would be worth the time and money. and of course you would rather go on an adventure down to a continent you haven't been to yet and see your favorite artist of all time. you know your trip with you dad will be hard for so many reasons.
i wish it weren't an either or. i wish i could do both. i wish i could just go and see. see. see. and live. and experience and get to go to these shows as much as i wanted. to drink in these moments of complete artistic inspiration. they are the best moments of life and so why does there have to be such a fight to have them?
currently listening to: radiohead on shuffle, but punchup at a wedding just finished and now a live version of idioteque is next in the queue which was replaced by scatterbrain.
but.
i.
can't.
help.
it.
their music gives life to a part of me that i can't really fully explain. describe. articulate into english or any other language for that matter. even art. which hurts the most. i want to make art that speaks of how my self can be moved to these places. of what colors i sense when i am living in their songs. at the beauty and vibrancy i discover time and time again just by entering the doorway their music provides.
i want to create art that offers doorways like this to other people.
and in the meantime, i know i have been walking the yellow brick road of the recent radiohead tour hoping to find something/anything at the other end. an emerald city. a wizard. a magical spell to get back to my very own kansas. something. and it's been a journey i still have not found words to use to preserve it. i need to find an assemblage of verbal formaldehyde. something, anything to tether the entirety of my experience at the three shows this summer {and perhaps, more importantly, what i have left in my hands after the shows}.
and the driving desire to go back and rewrite (yes, i have several drafts) and reremember is still strong and i've been futilely struggling with something in me that is preventing me from going back to such a tender and charged place.
and.
it's coming back in bits and bobs with the approach of the spring '09 tour to central and south america.
it turns out that the brazil shows are happening before my class gets out and those are the ones i had my heart set on. i can make it to chile for two days at a festival, but i don't really want to wade through a whole festival to see them. and for some reason, chile doesn't have as much excitement for me as brazil does.
and rustling up from somewhere {or nowhere} are questions such as: why this driving need to see them? will you actually let yourself feel the show now {i failed three times in a row this summer}? is it really worth the time and money? sure if i had the latter growing on trees, but it would be a s t r e t c h for me to make it, so why am i willing to stretch so far to see them without first considering spending the money you really don't have anyway to see my father who is going blind from diabetes over in austria?
and a few answers surface as well: yes, i think i will let myself feel. i had a breakthrough in acting class that i think relates, of anticipating an emotional result and stopping myself from experiencing anything. it shouldn't be a problem. and yes, it would be worth the time and money. and of course you would rather go on an adventure down to a continent you haven't been to yet and see your favorite artist of all time. you know your trip with you dad will be hard for so many reasons.
i wish it weren't an either or. i wish i could do both. i wish i could just go and see. see. see. and live. and experience and get to go to these shows as much as i wanted. to drink in these moments of complete artistic inspiration. they are the best moments of life and so why does there have to be such a fight to have them?
currently listening to: radiohead on shuffle, but punchup at a wedding just finished and now a live version of idioteque is next in the queue which was replaced by scatterbrain.
11.29.2008
i am a city girl
last week i walked ten minutes to cafe presse.
a french bit of loveliness.
on my way i passed a fabric store,
a grocery store,
banks,
cafes,
the old location of freehold {sniff sniff},
countless restaurants,
and more.
today i strolled cap hill for an hour or so and went into said fabric store which is positively delightful, and the art store and bead store too. my friend got coffee from b & o, a decadent dessert place just up the street, and now i've been perched upstairs in bauhaus for three hours writing {artist's way, journal, blog, emails} and savoring the flux of late night coffee goers.
i feel alive here. close to things and people. i feel like i finally live in a city.
a french bit of loveliness.
on my way i passed a fabric store,
a grocery store,
banks,
cafes,
the old location of freehold {sniff sniff},
countless restaurants,
and more.
today i strolled cap hill for an hour or so and went into said fabric store which is positively delightful, and the art store and bead store too. my friend got coffee from b & o, a decadent dessert place just up the street, and now i've been perched upstairs in bauhaus for three hours writing {artist's way, journal, blog, emails} and savoring the flux of late night coffee goers.
i feel alive here. close to things and people. i feel like i finally live in a city.
perfectionism
from the words of julia cameron's the artist's way:
perfectionism has nothing to do with getting it right. it has nothing to do with fixing things. it has nothing to do with standards. perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. it is a loop–an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. we correct our originiality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity. "do not fear mistakes," miles davis told us. "there are none."
to the perfectionist, there is always room for improvement. the perfectionist calls this humility. in reality, it is egotism. it is pride that makes us want to write a perfect script, paint a perfect painting, perform a perfect audition monologue.
perfectionism is not a quest for the best. it is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough–that we should try again.
perfectionism has nothing to do with getting it right. it has nothing to do with fixing things. it has nothing to do with standards. perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. it is a loop–an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. we correct our originiality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity. "do not fear mistakes," miles davis told us. "there are none."
to the perfectionist, there is always room for improvement. the perfectionist calls this humility. in reality, it is egotism. it is pride that makes us want to write a perfect script, paint a perfect painting, perform a perfect audition monologue.
perfectionism is not a quest for the best. it is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough–that we should try again.
11.27.2008
my reasons to give thanks.
{in no particular order}
1. meisner channeled through robin lynn smith who simultaneously supports and challenges me every single class.
2. my entire class {ditto on the note above}.
3. friends. friends who i can accept at face value. who tell me when they're disappointed in me or when i've hurt them. who aren't afraid of conflict. who tell me when they love me. who tell me when they have a crush on me {with no strings attached} or when they can't stand me at the moment. who share their delight of the universe. who surprise me and inspire me and call me forth to be a better person. who are honest. who walk their talk. you know who you are.
4. family. as daughter of two, the youngest of four and the eldest of two. and those who i wasn't born with but have chosen as parents or siblings. you know who you are.
5. my new home. all five flights leading up to it. the view from the window. the hard wood floors and a bathroom that is monochromatically gray/green. cap hill. the apartment managers dennis and yvonne. the red carpet in the hallways and the closet that holds more than one would imagine.
6. my art. the art i've made. the art that i will make. the people that are involved in the process. and the driving force behind it all that keeps me up at night and casts my world in shifting colors.
7. hope. {carefully excluding fantasies parading around in hope's clothing}
8. a broken heart. it burned like mad, but taught me more than i can fathom even now that i'm on the other side.
9. crushes. they burn like mad and reflect a less than flattering picture of myself which i must reconcile some day. certainly adds a spice to things.
10. best friends. perhaps this should have been at the top. yes, you know who you are. and you also know i have no words for you.
11. my magic. which i discovered i have again after my charmed apartment search.
currently listening to: matthew goode that is coming from my brother's computer.
1. meisner channeled through robin lynn smith who simultaneously supports and challenges me every single class.
2. my entire class {ditto on the note above}.
3. friends. friends who i can accept at face value. who tell me when they're disappointed in me or when i've hurt them. who aren't afraid of conflict. who tell me when they love me. who tell me when they have a crush on me {with no strings attached} or when they can't stand me at the moment. who share their delight of the universe. who surprise me and inspire me and call me forth to be a better person. who are honest. who walk their talk. you know who you are.
4. family. as daughter of two, the youngest of four and the eldest of two. and those who i wasn't born with but have chosen as parents or siblings. you know who you are.
5. my new home. all five flights leading up to it. the view from the window. the hard wood floors and a bathroom that is monochromatically gray/green. cap hill. the apartment managers dennis and yvonne. the red carpet in the hallways and the closet that holds more than one would imagine.
6. my art. the art i've made. the art that i will make. the people that are involved in the process. and the driving force behind it all that keeps me up at night and casts my world in shifting colors.
7. hope. {carefully excluding fantasies parading around in hope's clothing}
8. a broken heart. it burned like mad, but taught me more than i can fathom even now that i'm on the other side.
9. crushes. they burn like mad and reflect a less than flattering picture of myself which i must reconcile some day. certainly adds a spice to things.
10. best friends. perhaps this should have been at the top. yes, you know who you are. and you also know i have no words for you.
11. my magic. which i discovered i have again after my charmed apartment search.
currently listening to: matthew goode that is coming from my brother's computer.
11.26.2008
meisner - day 18
we've been assigned scenes.
i am poor
i am french.
i am not as innocent as i am treated.
and i am blackmailing someone.
we did a "mechanical read" in class where you are not supposed to look at your partner. after the last line that i deliver with a little dig, my partner and i looked up at each other with quite a loaded look.
zap.
this is going to be a charged scene. i can tell already.
i am poor
i am french.
i am not as innocent as i am treated.
and i am blackmailing someone.
we did a "mechanical read" in class where you are not supposed to look at your partner. after the last line that i deliver with a little dig, my partner and i looked up at each other with quite a loaded look.
zap.
this is going to be a charged scene. i can tell already.
11.24.2008
meisner - day 17 {hell hath no fury}
we were on fire. pretty literally.
every class we have two people working on each exercise. one person is inside the room doing a very physically difficult task that is motivated by circumstances that are life altering. these can be good life altering or bad life altering. the person coming into the room is also coming from circumstances that are life altering, but their circumstances are tied to the person in the room. somehow the person inside caused this thing to happen, and they will either want to blame them or feel thankful for them.
hopefully i'm not being too confusing.
so, last night, i was inside preparing the room for my little brother. he was returning from iraq paralyzed from the waist down. he had to move in with me rather than his parents because i lived closer to the medical facilities he would need.
i was going to set up the bed with my red comforter. and the couch would hold a diptych of a flock of birds i painted - set in front of the bed so he could always look at them. my computer would be set up on the bedside table that was a crate, just like i use in my spaces. dvds and books and my music collection would be put out in easy reach. i was going to change into my radiohead t-shirt i got down in santa barbara when he bought me my pit ticket. i had a beeswax candle and a paper weight with a dandelion in it for him. and lastly, i was going to install a string of lights above his bed in the shape of a tree {half the celtic tree of life which is tattooed on his calf}.
that was, until my partner came in and the argument started. from moment number one we were at odds. at each other's throats. and pretty quickly the yelling started. and i got more mad at someone i have ever been in my entire life. ever. and i didn't check it like i would in the real world.
and i think the moment that still haunts me a little is when i saw him stumble backward a bit and this look of anger and shock registering on his face and i realized my hands in between us were the ones that had pushed him of their own volition. the actor inserted asserted itself for a second to say don't hurt him and then the argument resumed.
i wasn't even thinking. i didn't have to. stuff flew out of my mouth as though it was true we've been together for 6 months and you don't even know what branch of the military my brother is in? and how can you compare a stupid ex girl friend to the loss of some one's limbs?!?!?!
i'm getting worked up again just thinking about it. i was on fire. swathed in this vibrant cloak of fury and it was probably the most real piece of acting i have ever done. ever. and i get now how just packing the circumstances with truths that are important to me or i can connect to will make me come alive in ways i don't even understand. that it frees me to accept things and live them truthfully {like the fact that this man was my boyfriend of six months and even the fact that my brother was so seriously injured} without having to think about them.
and he stormed out. and i let him go. and then went to the door and shouted something at his back - i don't even remember what. and robin let me return to my activity for quite a while. i tried unsuccessfully to untangle the lights so i could hang them, but i was shaking too much. threw them down. did a few other things. came back to the lights. i paused with the heaviness of it all then resumed my futile attempts. it felt like a long time of wrestling and seething. and then she let me finish.
i went out to get my partner to contact him (a theater technique of "exiting" the circumstances) and pretty much threw myself into his arms. and we just stood there. for a long while, as i shook and he gently patted the back of my head.
then we went inside to discuss it with the teacher. no notes of constructive criticism, just acknowledgment of breakthroughs. and it was almost comical how easily we could slip back into the space while discussing our individual circumstances. after i made you dinner and did all those nice things for you!?!?! then: wait, breathe. scootch and put an arm on him and remind yourself that wasn't real, nathania. then: i can't believe you were still thinking about her! the momentum was really powerful.
later, with cheeks still warm from the heat and body still a little jittery, i had to make sure he was okay for receiving that much anger, which, growing up, was reserved only for my father to express. and yes, of course, he was. and even hours later when i went to bed, my heart was still racing and my mind was playing through the argument like a loop and finding things i wish i had said, or points i wish i had made, which was curious, because it wasn't a real argument.
i couldn't even contemplate sleep because i was so antsy, so i pulled out my journal and began to write:
my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances.
again and again until i found the big slice of truth i hadn't realized was staring me in the face. he had hit the jackpot with one of my biggest fears: there being another woman who means more. which, the ex of his circumstance obviously had. after six months of helping him through really tough times {he had lost his job, borrowed my car, stayed at my place, etc} he was still thinking of someone else.
and that, coupled with being completely present with me in our conflict, was a brilliant gift on his part.
i love being an actor.
every class we have two people working on each exercise. one person is inside the room doing a very physically difficult task that is motivated by circumstances that are life altering. these can be good life altering or bad life altering. the person coming into the room is also coming from circumstances that are life altering, but their circumstances are tied to the person in the room. somehow the person inside caused this thing to happen, and they will either want to blame them or feel thankful for them.
hopefully i'm not being too confusing.
so, last night, i was inside preparing the room for my little brother. he was returning from iraq paralyzed from the waist down. he had to move in with me rather than his parents because i lived closer to the medical facilities he would need.
i was going to set up the bed with my red comforter. and the couch would hold a diptych of a flock of birds i painted - set in front of the bed so he could always look at them. my computer would be set up on the bedside table that was a crate, just like i use in my spaces. dvds and books and my music collection would be put out in easy reach. i was going to change into my radiohead t-shirt i got down in santa barbara when he bought me my pit ticket. i had a beeswax candle and a paper weight with a dandelion in it for him. and lastly, i was going to install a string of lights above his bed in the shape of a tree {half the celtic tree of life which is tattooed on his calf}.
that was, until my partner came in and the argument started. from moment number one we were at odds. at each other's throats. and pretty quickly the yelling started. and i got more mad at someone i have ever been in my entire life. ever. and i didn't check it like i would in the real world.
and i think the moment that still haunts me a little is when i saw him stumble backward a bit and this look of anger and shock registering on his face and i realized my hands in between us were the ones that had pushed him of their own volition. the actor inserted asserted itself for a second to say don't hurt him and then the argument resumed.
i wasn't even thinking. i didn't have to. stuff flew out of my mouth as though it was true we've been together for 6 months and you don't even know what branch of the military my brother is in? and how can you compare a stupid ex girl friend to the loss of some one's limbs?!?!?!
i'm getting worked up again just thinking about it. i was on fire. swathed in this vibrant cloak of fury and it was probably the most real piece of acting i have ever done. ever. and i get now how just packing the circumstances with truths that are important to me or i can connect to will make me come alive in ways i don't even understand. that it frees me to accept things and live them truthfully {like the fact that this man was my boyfriend of six months and even the fact that my brother was so seriously injured} without having to think about them.
and he stormed out. and i let him go. and then went to the door and shouted something at his back - i don't even remember what. and robin let me return to my activity for quite a while. i tried unsuccessfully to untangle the lights so i could hang them, but i was shaking too much. threw them down. did a few other things. came back to the lights. i paused with the heaviness of it all then resumed my futile attempts. it felt like a long time of wrestling and seething. and then she let me finish.
i went out to get my partner to contact him (a theater technique of "exiting" the circumstances) and pretty much threw myself into his arms. and we just stood there. for a long while, as i shook and he gently patted the back of my head.
then we went inside to discuss it with the teacher. no notes of constructive criticism, just acknowledgment of breakthroughs. and it was almost comical how easily we could slip back into the space while discussing our individual circumstances. after i made you dinner and did all those nice things for you!?!?! then: wait, breathe. scootch and put an arm on him and remind yourself that wasn't real, nathania. then: i can't believe you were still thinking about her! the momentum was really powerful.
later, with cheeks still warm from the heat and body still a little jittery, i had to make sure he was okay for receiving that much anger, which, growing up, was reserved only for my father to express. and yes, of course, he was. and even hours later when i went to bed, my heart was still racing and my mind was playing through the argument like a loop and finding things i wish i had said, or points i wish i had made, which was curious, because it wasn't a real argument.
i couldn't even contemplate sleep because i was so antsy, so i pulled out my journal and began to write:
my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances.
again and again until i found the big slice of truth i hadn't realized was staring me in the face. he had hit the jackpot with one of my biggest fears: there being another woman who means more. which, the ex of his circumstance obviously had. after six months of helping him through really tough times {he had lost his job, borrowed my car, stayed at my place, etc} he was still thinking of someone else.
and that, coupled with being completely present with me in our conflict, was a brilliant gift on his part.
i love being an actor.
11.21.2008
move out/in - day one
i drove away from my ballard house this morning and almost got teary-eyed realizing this was the last time i would drive to work from this house. it's been a densely steeped ten months. and well worth the oftentimes bitter flavors.
as i shed this next layer of skin, i am in touch with sloughing off more than just disappointment, i am letting go of the illusions of perfection i have kept tightly bound to my memories of jaimini. even in the face of some cowardly and hugely insensitive decisions on his part, i kept him glued to the pedestal of all things wonderful. and that's not fair. to him or me. and somehow it's been within this process of moving that i've come to terms with a greater sense of truth and peace and forgiveness. for both of us.
it happened when taking down the hook i had specifically put up for his set of keys {a mere day or two before things started to unravel}. i found it in packing up the kitchen where we cooked a few meals during that last week. in leaving behind the bed we dreamt our converging dreams in. the rooms we painted.
all the hopes, no matter how temporary are tied to this space. as well as the fears and grief {though the worst of that was thankfully spent during the weeks of house sitting - a huge gift to be able to leave behind those spaces}.
and there is no regret in closing the door for the last time on these things.
and i have a softness for us. and most especially for myself. for letting myself be led down the path that evidently i needed to travel in order to reach these places that i have been able to go. it unhemmed me and revealed all this stitching gone awry and the last ten months have been a sacrifice for myself. to pick out/rip/tear each stitch. and yet i am more in touch with the fact that there are no mistakes here. no accidents. no user errors. just a path traversed and lessons learned.
and most importantly: i have finally come to terms with the fact that i needed a relationship as real and intense and serious as ours to take me to these places i needed to rework. nothing shy of meeting someone i felt i could marry would have forced me to where i have gone. and for that, i am grateful. forever and ever.
so, it's the next chapter. the next offering on the alter to myself and my connectivity to the people and spaces around me. it's to my growth as an actor. as a real city dweller. as an artist who emits her colors in the smallest of moments stolen between 10:15 & 10:16 each morning or in the grandest of schemes like a class that draws me irrevocably forward as a performer and as a human being.
so, to life and my new nest:
as i shed this next layer of skin, i am in touch with sloughing off more than just disappointment, i am letting go of the illusions of perfection i have kept tightly bound to my memories of jaimini. even in the face of some cowardly and hugely insensitive decisions on his part, i kept him glued to the pedestal of all things wonderful. and that's not fair. to him or me. and somehow it's been within this process of moving that i've come to terms with a greater sense of truth and peace and forgiveness. for both of us.
it happened when taking down the hook i had specifically put up for his set of keys {a mere day or two before things started to unravel}. i found it in packing up the kitchen where we cooked a few meals during that last week. in leaving behind the bed we dreamt our converging dreams in. the rooms we painted.
all the hopes, no matter how temporary are tied to this space. as well as the fears and grief {though the worst of that was thankfully spent during the weeks of house sitting - a huge gift to be able to leave behind those spaces}.
and there is no regret in closing the door for the last time on these things.
and i have a softness for us. and most especially for myself. for letting myself be led down the path that evidently i needed to travel in order to reach these places that i have been able to go. it unhemmed me and revealed all this stitching gone awry and the last ten months have been a sacrifice for myself. to pick out/rip/tear each stitch. and yet i am more in touch with the fact that there are no mistakes here. no accidents. no user errors. just a path traversed and lessons learned.
and most importantly: i have finally come to terms with the fact that i needed a relationship as real and intense and serious as ours to take me to these places i needed to rework. nothing shy of meeting someone i felt i could marry would have forced me to where i have gone. and for that, i am grateful. forever and ever.
so, it's the next chapter. the next offering on the alter to myself and my connectivity to the people and spaces around me. it's to my growth as an actor. as a real city dweller. as an artist who emits her colors in the smallest of moments stolen between 10:15 & 10:16 each morning or in the grandest of schemes like a class that draws me irrevocably forward as a performer and as a human being.
so, to life and my new nest:
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this kitchen isn't for shorties. notice how i'm standing on my toes to reach this shelf.
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currently listening to: my belly gurgle it's appreciation of the lovely pho i fed it looong after it passsed the 'so hungry i could eat a horse' stage. contemplating the coconut milk ice cream downstairs. mmm...mint chocolate chip and a bath....{i got both the ice cream and that bath}
11.20.2008
over the river and through the woods
[11.15.08 ten15am.com submission]
to grandmother's house i go. quite literally.it's a lovely drive down interstate 5 through the nisqually region and willamette valley {my two favorite parts of the drive} and for the first time i was making it entirely alone. no mother. no siblings. just jasper {my car}, my music and myself.
the weekend was restful. it was grandma's 83rd birthday. we went out to dinner. we went to the trees. we stood by grandpa's grave {unfortunately the bench was too wet to use}. we bought some groceries. ate lamb chops for dinner. i finished my book astrid & veronika. took a nap. sudoku after dinner. early start the next day. silent drive home as i made some decisions about my meisner assignments for class.
music on the drive: horsefeathers. the village soundtrack. radiohead {at the very end}.
the view from grandpa's grave.
a typically wonky iphone photo, but good smiles.
the house is like a little museum of curiosities.
the objects and their implied stories have always fascinated me.
and i notice something new each time.
aaah. books.
this is where it comes from.
[11.16.08 ten15am.com submission]
currently listening to: mondo '77 - looper {the current play count after having it on repeat for the last hour or two: 53}
11.19.2008
tonight:
i'm listening to looper.
specifically mondo '77 from geometrid.
i'm dancing around my room while i'm packing up my wardrobe.
i had two amazing girl friends over for an hour or two.
we planned a slosh and slumber party at my new place {soon! }.
and i'm going to find my way to brazil at the end of march i just know it.
and.
for tonight.
these things are enough and all is well with my world.
specifically mondo '77 from geometrid.
i'm dancing around my room while i'm packing up my wardrobe.
i had two amazing girl friends over for an hour or two.
we planned a slosh and slumber party at my new place {soon! }.
and i'm going to find my way to brazil at the end of march i just know it.
and.
for tonight.
these things are enough and all is well with my world.
radiohead - spring 09 tour
they are starting to release the dates.
they are starting to sell tickets.
and i don't know how.
and i don't know when.
but i will see them play this spring in south america.
currently listening to: fog - radiohead
they are starting to sell tickets.
and i don't know how.
and i don't know when.
but i will see them play this spring in south america.
currently listening to: fog - radiohead
11.18.2008
meisner - day 16
eight weeks of class. ateeightaye't.
i can feel myself going somewhere again.
which shouldn't negate the movement i have made, just that it {perfectionistically} wasn't in this area where i felt way behind the rest of the class: in connecting to my circumstances. in feeling them emotionally. in putting that experience into the space between the two actors. so much juicy stuff has been happening with my fellow classmates and i've felt like a stale piece of bread shuffling around on stage.
until today.
i did my homework as well as i could.
with more focus than i have ever been able to give my task before.
and outside in my prep before entering, i went back to my visceral sense memory of my family photographs and just sat in the experience of looking through page after page of my family photographs.
my baby pictures.
photos of my parents as a young couple not knowing what they were getting themselves into. holding hands.
my sister on the cheerfully yellow slip and slide.
my siblings. my siblings. my siblings.
me in front of the deer cage at the stables.
my mom and me at the picnic table at presley lake.
my grandparents on both sides visiting us in alabama.
my dad in a blue shirt.
family photos.
top garden.
me in my swish holding momma cat.
a flood of images often interrupted by noises and sounds and thoughts about what i would do when i got inside the room or what it would look like working with will or what i should be feeling. and yet each time i caught myself then redirected with as little judgment as possible and slipped back into this wealth of images surfacing in my mind's eye.
and then i imagined them all burning in a fire.
i didn't start crying in the hallway. i didn't even have an identifiable emotional response, but the circumstances were alive in me. completely. my heart was racing and my body felt charged.
and that's all i carried with me to the door. i didn't know what i was feeling or how it would come out. it was this glorious surrendering of control and inside it took me to sobs it took me to shouting and it took me to laughter. exhausted. beaten. laughter.
so yesss. tonight was a victory.
currently listening to: fog - radiohead
and finally.
i can feel myself going somewhere again.
which shouldn't negate the movement i have made, just that it {perfectionistically} wasn't in this area where i felt way behind the rest of the class: in connecting to my circumstances. in feeling them emotionally. in putting that experience into the space between the two actors. so much juicy stuff has been happening with my fellow classmates and i've felt like a stale piece of bread shuffling around on stage.
until today.
i did my homework as well as i could.
with more focus than i have ever been able to give my task before.
and outside in my prep before entering, i went back to my visceral sense memory of my family photographs and just sat in the experience of looking through page after page of my family photographs.
my baby pictures.
photos of my parents as a young couple not knowing what they were getting themselves into. holding hands.
my sister on the cheerfully yellow slip and slide.
my siblings. my siblings. my siblings.
me in front of the deer cage at the stables.
my mom and me at the picnic table at presley lake.
my grandparents on both sides visiting us in alabama.
my dad in a blue shirt.
family photos.
top garden.
me in my swish holding momma cat.
a flood of images often interrupted by noises and sounds and thoughts about what i would do when i got inside the room or what it would look like working with will or what i should be feeling. and yet each time i caught myself then redirected with as little judgment as possible and slipped back into this wealth of images surfacing in my mind's eye.
and then i imagined them all burning in a fire.
i didn't start crying in the hallway. i didn't even have an identifiable emotional response, but the circumstances were alive in me. completely. my heart was racing and my body felt charged.
and that's all i carried with me to the door. i didn't know what i was feeling or how it would come out. it was this glorious surrendering of control and inside it took me to sobs it took me to shouting and it took me to laughter. exhausted. beaten. laughter.
so yesss. tonight was a victory.
currently listening to: fog - radiohead
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