love more

love more - sharon van etten

chained to the wall of our room
yeah you chained me like a dog in our room
i thought that's how it was
i thought that we were fine
then the day was night
you were high you were high when i was doomed
and dying for with no light with no light

tied to my bed
i was younger then
i had nothing to spend but time on you
but it made me love it made me love it made me love more
it made me love it made me love it made me love more

do what you said the words she said left out
over unto the sky where i'll soon fly
and she took the time
to believe in to believe in what she said
and she made me love she made me love she made me love more
she made me love she made me love she made me love more

encore

james blake.


he came to me by way of "wilhelm scream" on a music mix. october 2011. oh, what a month that was for me. the beginning of an era i haven't entirely made sense of. one not entirely come to fruition. it was the month i turned 29 and started rehearsing for the play. the month i got this mix and played a hole into the cd on a drive down and back from bend, oregon.

and tonight, as blake came back on to the stage after a set that wasn't nearly long enough, he opened up to our pleas for an encore with the notes to the song "wilhelm scream" and my heart opened up too – suddenly. after a set that was largely sonic and visceral, he surprised me right at the end. reminding me of a time before the song, before a deep gulf was exposed inside of me. before a year of painful struggle and growth needed to span it closed again – helping me towards whole.

the melody and words were a sudden and direct line back to the person i was when the song first came to me. i stared that older version of me in the face with a heavy dose of empathy for what the next year ahead of her would be, how it would be one of the hardest of our life. and though they come far less frequently than ever before, some days, like earlier today, i face the chasms still remaining and wonder if i would make the same choices again. put her through what she went through, daunted as i am at how far it sometimes seems that i still have to go.

but really, decisions of this magnitude have never been something i can second guess, ever, despite the fact that many of you have done so {lovingly} on my behalf. even as my heart goes out to her, that person i was, and in turn reaches around through time to me now, i know that this was the best and perhaps quickest way to becoming the person i want to be.

instead, here i am, running myself in {smaller, less frequent or frenetic} circles much like the lyrics of the song. here i am managing to stay tied to my very clear marching orders forward, tied to the fact that all i can do, all i want to do, is move further into my life in the name of truth. move forward in the name of strength. move forward in the name of love. even if it feels like i'm falling. falling. falling. 

and as long as i'm paying attention, i see those small signs that tell me how far i've come. and they are the ultimate comfort to the person looking forward at me from a year and a half backwards in time. and in her eyes, i can see she is filled with relief and encouragement that all along, it was for something. more than something, actually. everything. even if i can't hold it yet.







I don't know about my dreamsI don't know about my dreamin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'Might as well fall in
I don't know about my loveI don't know about my lovin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'Might as well fall in
I don't know about my dreamsI don't know about my dreamin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'
I don't know about my loveI don't know about my lovin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm lovin', fallin', lovin', lovin'Might as well love you
I don't know about my loveI don't know about my lovin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm turnin', turnin', turnin', turnin'Might as well turn in
I don't know about my dreamsI don't know about my dreamin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'Might as well fall in
I don't know about my loveI don't know about my lovin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'Might as well fall in
I don't know about my dreamsI don't know about my dreamin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'
I don't know about my loveI don't know about my lovin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm lovin', lovin', lovin', lovin'Might as well love you
I don't know about my dreamsI don't know about my dreamin' anymoreAll that I know is I'm fallin', fallin', fallin', fallin'Might as well fall in.

a house of grief

i am pet sitting up in the sammamish highlands in a house i have returned to many times over the past four or five years. and as i drive out here each time, i think of how many of my stories this house has witnessed, most particularly, stories of separation, space and loneliness. how often severance {of varying kinds and importance} has struck while i have been here is almost eerie, but in the end, i have decided that it has been a blessing to be able to leave the grief behind, turn a key, turn my back and let it all rest in the bones of a house i do not inhabit every day. the only thing i have to take away is the adoring eyes of the pets i walk and feed. these are the same pet who often have crept up to my dangling hands, butting their noses into my fingers as i cried. unconditional love at its best. so i guess i am saying there is gratitude here for this space that has taken as much care of me as i have of it.

today i come a little raw, a little worried, questioning some significant parts of myself even as i pull from a steady stream of confidence and certainty i cannot entirely explain. i am grateful to it as much as it scares me as well.

so here i am, writing from a foreign bed, kittens walking across my keys*, curling up to my typing fingers and purring their miniature purrs.

and i am still happy.
still.
still and happy.


so i say goodnight {or good morning} and leave you with a song on repeat for me of late from cocoon. it's called cathedral. lyrics below.







I came from the valley
And you came from the sea
You smell like the sand

How far up the river
Would you go, would you go
To meet me again ?

And I built the cathedral
With the shelves that you held
In the hole of a tree

And I love the words you said
When I told you what the ravens
Sing in my dreams

You pushed on my heart
Every night and every day
To keep me alive

And you kiss my mouth
And I learn to walk
And I learn to try...

Can you hear the horses
It means the seasons changes
It means the seasons changes

When the rivers overflows
I run to the bridges
I run to the bridges

And for now don't be afraid
If the sun never rises
If the sun never rises

There's a time to let it grow
There's a time to let it slow
And a time to let it go..




*one just strolled across the unmute button blasting music suddenly scaring both it and me. 

untitled.

it's always interesting to me how much hope and heartache hold hands. interesting painful, but interesting none the less. i have a vision. i have clarity. i have truth and courage and the perfect space both inside and out. and perhaps most importantly, a growing ability for patience on my side.

it's only a matter of time.




oh, and yes, i have hope.
and luckily she holds hands with many.


..........................................................................................



here is justin vernon, singing to my spirit tonight.

{p.s. this song is to no one and everyone}

give up the ghost

i give up. but all i feel like i'm giving up is the ghost of an insubstantial thing i have tried so hard to breathe life into.

at times i admit, i failed. my grip tightened, the gentle stirrings crushed, but trust me when i say it took every ounce of concentration to loosen the vice of my scared fingers that were holding on to something,  anything, to safety. but i have learned, please believe me, i have, and i have leaned closer to that gentle balance than i ever have managed before. it wasn't easy. it never is when you are pushing at the boundaries of oneself. and these weren't easy lines i trenched. the deepest running, the truest cutting.

yes, i have learned a lot.

but i give up.

tonight.

now.

i think i should give up the ghost in your arms.


i give up the ghost of my own fears, the ghost of my restless patience, the ghost of my silence. and i have no idea what is on the other side, but the line was crossed and finally i am pushed to find out why and ask if i am getting anywhere in the process.


.............................................

thank you, thom, this song will serenade me my luck. one of the sleeper songs of radiohead's newest album. i saw it saw performed once two years ago in new york city...i didn't realize it would hit so hard this tour but it always found its way through to the tender spots that were already showing.

don't hurt me.
don't haunt me.

judge, jury & executioner

whenever i hit bottom the night always gives back a warm smile. last time it was on the flight to europe complete with shooting stars and aurora borealis. tonight it was a bright, half-moon lit run through discovery park, an airplane tracing a slow path across the sky leaving a glowing tail as long as my outstretched arm behind it. i took out my earbuds when i got to the water's edge. low tide. slow waves. quiet. alone. perfect.

it's on nights like these when i realize how much clutters the space between me and the moon. on the back roads of the park where no streetlamps dare to go, the space between us cleared and i could feel her above me, gracing me with sharp shadows and a gentle wash of tenderness my spirit was needing.

these past few days have shown me a terrifying reality: my bones have been broken and never set straight. and suddenly, thankfully, i have the clarity to look back {in shame and frustration} at how i have forced others to provide me with a sense of safety and worth. sure, i've packaged it up in a tidy box, put a pretty ribbon on it and a tag called trust, but the truth i am finally able to articulate for myself is that just like with love, trust has to start with the self before it can be found with others.

it is one of my goals of this year to forgive the ex that cheated on me and cowardly refused to ever own up to it {and yes, i have proof}. yes, i would not date him were he to be the last person left, but no, i am not over the damage of that relationship because it was a repeat injury, a fear, a phobia i have been carrying around for years already. i did my best, but the limb is still crooked and has been for decades.

and these past few days i took each knotted angle, each half-healed fracture and i watched myself ruthlessly snap them in two.

needless to say, this was not an easy process. it was not clean and it certainly was not pretty. it also involved about three or so episodes that dredged up an emotional response so intense my body could not metabolize it. it was only today that i realized these were panic attacks -- something it is humbling for me to admit given how much i hold on to my self-image as one who is emotionally present, resilient and bold. but i guess this should be reassuring that i'm successfully striking to the root of the issue because the only other time i have experienced said temperature dropping/shaking episodes was when the relationship i am referring to was initially falling apart in this clouded and convoluted way: a result of the dishonesty and cowardice that prevented any clarity and closure. but just because i'm on the right track doesn't mean it's any more comfortable or comforting. i can only hope that i'll be stronger and whole on the other side and that how confidently i tread each painful, limping step forward at the worst is only a further sign that this is passing, this is fleeting and good things await which i will be able to walk just as confidently toward, if not quite so painfully.

and those good things....i know they will be built on the foundation i am laying, built on the idea that no one can give me enough reassurance to calm my fears and that i am the only one responsible for these fears and how they manifest in my life. i have to take ownership of how they wedge themselves into the space between myself and another person, getting in the way and muddying waters. i know my fears are based off of my untrue ideas {even if the emotions they illicit are true}: that i am not good enough, that there will always be another woman more interesting, more important, more smart/beautiful/insert whatever, than me.

but i am here. i am here. i am here. grateful for where and who i am, for my life as it is at the moment, providing me a bittersweet blend of safety and risk and the perfect surface on which to break these broken bones again. and it doesn't matter what some one has done or could do in a relationship with me.  they can break their word, they can sleep around or not, my worth does not change, i am still me, complete and whole. their actions merely inform how i do or do not want them in my life.

so yes, i am here and i am hoping to finally set them straight. and hoping. always hoping.


.....................................................

the song that accompanied the run: myxamatosis (judge, jury & executioner) which i found nicely appropriate. radiohead of course {and i get to see them in a month and some spare change}.

the mongrel cat came home 
holding half a head 
proceeded to show it off 
to all his newfound friends 
he said "i been where i liked
i slept with who i like
she ate me up for breakfast 
she screwed me in a vice
but now i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied"

i sat in the cupboard 
and wrote it down neat 
they were cheering and waving 
cheering and waving 
twitching and salivating like with myxomatosis 
but it got edited, fucked up 
strangled, beaten up
used in a photo in time magazine 
buried in a burning black hole in devon 
and i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied 
don't know why i feel so skinned alive

my thoughts are misguided and a little naive
i twitch and i salivate like with myxomatosis 
you should put me in a home or you should put me down 
i got myxomatosis 
i got myxomatosis 
yeah, no one likes a smart-ass but we all like stars
but that wasn't my intention, i did it for a reason 
it must have got mixed up 
strangled, beaten up 
i got myxomatosis 
i got myxomatosis 
i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied

departure

tonight panic swelled to a tidal wave, crested and swept over and around me, caressing my shoulders, brushing my hair, holding me close and reassuring me with those simple words i have fought long and hard these past weeks to ignore: i am alone.

i finish this journey, the time period of nomadacy as i began it: alone.

and reflecting back on the eve of the final chapter of this adventure, i want to revisit a few things i wrote here as i began packing up my life. it's an entry called to build a home.

first, silly me, i thought i was going to be a nomad for 3 1/2 months. by the time i return from europe, it will already be twice that amount {though when i first got my P O Box and realized i had to choose 6 month increments, i had a flash of insight that i would need the whole lease}. and secondly, this image from a run so many months ago that still holds true for me both in the rightness of where i am and in the alone-ness. the two go hand in hand.


on my run this past sunday, i had this fleeting moment while looking down at my shadow bouncing along in front of me – it was this undeniable feeling of certainty about being in the right place at this moment and how being alone right now is a significant part of that rightness. i am finding myself and what's under the layers of build-up on my body, spirit and home and while i feel very loved and supported heading into this adventure, i am also alone on this journey and that is right in a way i can't quite gather up enough words to explain.


and finally. this song. still a theme of the year and of this time. listen again:

and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust....

goshen

in another life i could have been a singer/songwriter. in the meantime, i'll enjoy the perfect delivery of others. today, zach condon & beirut. i thank you for your words and melody.

You're on in five, it's time you rise or fail.
They've gone before, stood by your door all day.
For what it's worth, defend your kind from shame.
The lights are down, go on inside, they've paid.
You're the face in stone, through the land I own.
You never found it home.
You're not the girl I used to know.

What would you hide from such a glow
If I had only told you so?

You're on in five, it's time you rise or fail.
They've gone before, stood by your door all day.
But you never found it home.
A fair price I'd pay to be alone.

What would you hide from such a glow
If I had only told you so?

a lullaby

a good night.

blood bank

i find it a strange quirk of the universe that i will have a song in my collection for months or years and never really listen to the lyrics until the moment they are relavent to my life. perhaps i've been listening all along and i merely note the moment my unconscious mind tells my conscious mind to perk up and listen, but either way, i heard this song in a whole new way today and found my story mirrored a bit including a few eerie details.

i'm navigating some tricky territory at the moment in my personal life, but in a way that constantly affirms that i am in the right place, with the right people, as uncomfortable and imperfect and slightly painful as everything is. running parallel to the journey i'm making giving up control in my home space, this has been an opportunity for me to rescind control in other facets of my life. i can't fix things, people, relationships, i can merely be present, honest and true to the best of my ability.

today the weight of things sank in a little but bon iver was there to sing me through to the other side, giving parts of my own story back to me in a package i can hum along with.

blood bank - bon iver

Well I met you at the blood bank
We were looking at the bags
Wondering if any of the colors
Matched any of the names we knew on the tags

You said see look it that's yours
Stacked on top with your brothers
See how they resemble one anothers?
Even in their plastic little covers

And I said I know it well

That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell it fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that its good girl
Cause its running you with red.

Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar you said
ain't this just like the present
To be showing up like this
There's a moon waning crescent
we started to kiss

And I said I know it well

That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
what's that noise up the stairs baby
Is that Christmas morning creaks

And I know it well and i know it well

about today & yesterday

this song came to me this past saturday* on my drive down to portland. and what felt noteworthy about those three hours in the car by myself was how comfortable i was to be in my own skin. how i felt the edges of who i was so clearly and truly liked who i found myself to be. i could see that i am a bolder person than i often give myself credit for and far more confident than i allow myself to be.

but then there is this song. four minutes and eleven seconds that so acutely sings the truth of how some of the most potential-filled connections of my life slipped away. and i know i have to take responsibility for it. i know that i have, on some level, attracted people unable to step up and simply speak their truth, choosing instead to just fade away into nothing while offering me the golden but painful opportunity to face the dark void they leave behind.

but now i find a bolder voice, a far more joyful sense of being here, being me, being right where i want to be and i simply want about today to be something that is only about my yesterdays. and i think the important thing for me to remember here, is that while i can't control in what manner the next person comes and goes from my life, what i have put into practice is taking responsibility for how i keep ahold of myself. in the past year i have had the opportunity to test my footing and found myself capable of maintaining the understanding, no matter if the worst {or best} case scenario becomes true, that i am here and whole and nothing they do can add to or take away from that.

about today -- the national

today you were far away
and i didn't ask you why
what could i say
i was far away
you just walked away
and i just watched you
what could i say

how close am i to losing you

tonight you just close your eyes
and i just watch you
slip away

how close am i to losing you

hey, are you awake
yeah i'm right here
well can i ask you about today

how close am i to losing you
how close am i to losing

*most recently, yes, cuz, i haven't forgotten you tried to spoon feed me the national first.

bon iver

my consolation prize for not getting to see thom yorke this week. and not a shabby one at that: justin vernon of bon iver and another falsetto to fall in love with, another concert friend to add to my numbers* and a show of such glory glory glory.

holcene was unreal, my eyebrows pursed, barely holding back tears {"i am not magnificent!"}, re:stacks everything i could have wanted and more, and the final act, wolves part 1, was out of this world. he invited us all to sing along with the simple instructions: "you'll get the lyrics right away so just keep repeating them, gradually getting louder." the swell of sound was massive--you could barely hear anything any more--but rather than being drowned out by noise, we were swept along through the melody holding on by our fingernails to words we were singing but could no longer distinguish. we were the music.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

what might have been lost.

the typical post-concert crash always breaks my heart. i don't want it to end. let's hit rewind. repeat. pretty please? the three of us, my newer and newest friend and i, all considered going to portland or vancouver if bon iver was playing there the next night, but sadly, this was the last show of the north american tour. the rustle of feet outside the venue. the exchange of numbers because this looks like a friend to hold on to. fighting the impulse to stay up later than i should, all go out for drinks, something, anything to keep the night going. not let it end. instead, it was a simple goodbye. me, still on some level, puzzled by a post-concert hug from a year and a half ago {did i not tell you about it? i probably should. that night makes for a good story}, resisted the impulse to hug our new friend goodbye. a rare decision to be safer.

what might have been lost. luckily, in this case, nothing, cause we get to hang out again soon. yippee.

this makes #10 in my list of concert friends.

*can't quite count him in the radiohead numbers though i guess he could be a preemptive radiohead friend since they just announced their tour...

to build a home

this year, i set out to make 2011 about joy. ode to joy. it's how i heralded in the crossing over from 2010 to 2011 with beethoven's symphony carrying me along on the anthem to all things joy related. and yet, this year has been more about a burning away. literally. fever for the first three days of the year, sick for the first three weeks. a month later, the throbbing burn of my lower back.

and i shook my fist at the sky in indignant frustration.

and yet, i have burned away the layers of garbage and muck clinging to my spirit, forcing myself to purge and purge again expediting change. so here i am, half way in, entering what is probably the single most deliberate act of cleansing and changing i have ever committed myself to consciously.

a week into my search for a new apartment, disheartened by the duds i was pulling up yet all the while knowing something wonderful was waiting for me out there, i realized that my fallback plan was the one i actually wanted to do. rather than stressing to make plan a or b work, i willingly picked the path behind door c. what was posted just above c's handle were these instructions for the next three and a half months of my life:

1. pack up your belongings taking only what you love. purge the rest.

2. put them into storage for 3 1/2 months.

3. go nomad.*

*this nomadic period will include house sitting, house surfing {we plan but can't promise zero couches} and otherwise be at the mercy of your friends and family, enjoying the sense of being untied to a physical space and learning from the challenges of having your living space being out of your control.

while you might say here i should beware of the fine print, i have to counter with how, as soon as i made the decision, everything lined up to support it better than i could ever have asked or imagined. one friend offered a truck and his help moving saying "i don't want you to pay for a truck..." and a day or so later, another friend offered her garage for storage, saying "i don't want you to pay for storage..." and above and beyond this all, it feels right. as soon as i made the decision, i felt excited about my life in a way that i haven't felt in a long time. like looking forward to the adventure of travel, except i will be here, in seattle, living and working as i am, just untethered and free. a good reminder to myself that i am not my space. i am not my things. i am not my books. i am not my aesthetically arranged home. they are mine, but they are not me.

i do ask myself what will i do without those mirrors to remind myself who i am? mirrors that reflect back the beauty of my library arranged by color, the mirror of silence echoed back by a quiet home all to myself after a long day of work. the mirror perpetuating an illusion of control but also a place to land. a place to rest.

i return to one of my favorite quotes:

'loneliness isn't about being by yourself. that's fine, right and good, desirable

in many ways. loneliness is about finding a landing-place, or not, and

knowing that, whatever you do, you can go back there. the opposite of loneliness

isn't company, it's a return. a place to return.'

so i need a place to return to throughout this period as i lose the physical and most tangible manifestation of this idea: a home. i need a landing place that i cannot lose and that cannot be taken away from me--the only thing in this world i will always have is the stock standard answer: my own self.

parallel to the above mentioned purge and cleanse of my possessions is a cleanse of my body. the most dedicated thing i have done in honor of it ever. three weeks ago i began an elimination diet {which includes taking out milk, gluten, sugar, honey, maple syrup, dairy, eggs, oats, bananas, strawberries, oranges, the list continues....}. but that was just the first phase. this past monday, the same day i began packing up my life, i began a three week cleanse which follows the elimination diet just removing breakfast and dinner and substituting liquid meals twice a day {smoothies, fresh juice--i have a juicer!--or liquid soups}.

i am into day three, supported by supplements and an all organic diet, but already i can tell my relationship to health and eating had hugely shifted. my food is less processed, whole, healthy in the most simple and delicious sense. as much as i have dedicated myself to cutting back during this time, i am also enjoying the experience of food more than i have in a long time. i am forced to think creatively and try new things, but just as significantly i am already free of side effects i was tolerating on a daily basis for years--my whole life, actually. i don't have cravings. i don't overeat. i listen to my body. and already i feel cleaner and this is just the beginning.

somehow these two journeys are so perfectly timed to coincide. cleanse. purge. home. both of them. the one home my body inhabits and the other my spirit inhabits.

on my run this past sunday, i had this fleeting moment while looking down at my shadow bouncing along in front of me--it was this undeniable feeling of certainty about being in the right place at this moment and how being alone right now is a significant part of that rightness. i am finding myself and what's under the layers of build-up on my body, spirit and home and while i feel very loved and supported heading into this adventure, i am also alone on this journey and that is right in a way i can't quite gather up enough words to explain.

and then, today, this song was delivered to me and all i can think is and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust.

'to build a home' -- cinematic orchestra

there is a house built out of stone

wooden floors, walls and window sills

tables and chairs worn by all of the dust

this is a place where i don't feel alone

this is a place where i feel at home

and i built a home

for you

for me

until it disappeared

from me

from you

and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust

out in the garden where we planted the seeds

there is a tree that's old as me

branches were sewn by the color of green

ground had arose and passed its knees

by the cracks of the skin i climbed to the top

i climbed the tree to see the world

when the gusts came around to blow me down

i held on as tightly as you held onto me

i held on as tightly as you held onto me

and i built a home

for you

for me

until it disappeared

from me

from you

and now, it's time to leave and turn to dust

home

let me tell you about a shift i've felt in my life this past week or so. really, since the epiphany i had on my run two weeks ago {to the radiohead song let down--read about it here}. it's one i've been gearing towards for years now, and one i'll probably need to rediscover anew all the time.

but for today, i feel so alive in my ability to just let my life, my thoughts, my worries, my joys simply flow through me. i am not them. i am not my negativity. i am not my abundance*. i am not my body. i am just the conduit through which all these things pass through. i am just the witness.

and it's left me feeling free. joyful. weightless.

and somehow, finally, i have also slipped in to a place of managing everything better after fighting for months of control. i am getting to sleep earlier. i am focusing more at work. i finally switched bank accounts to my credit union which has separate savings accounts for both traveling and my acting career--two things that i want to bring more to the forefront of my life.

my dishes are done. my birds are being hung. i am present.

and, i really have to scramble to make it to bed by my midnight bed time {which is the compromise between the 11pm time i need to have and the 1/2am habit i've been pulling lately}, but i want to leave you with a live recording of the song home that has really been my anthem since the re-start i made on my year in early february when i went up to vancouver for a few days. i blasted the song all the way up north and it has been highlighted in my life in various ways since then {most notably when my friend sheree was in town in late february and we had a sing-along in my car at top volume}.

tonight, it was on repeat and again, accompanied by my blossoming voice while making chocolate chip cookies for some friends. here is a charming live version:

*though i am continuously grateful for the daily signs of the abundance of the universe. after having my best month ever at my job, i am topping that by having my best pay period ever {or just about near it}. but unlike last time, i'm not working copious hours of overtime. in fact, i feel a lot more focused at work so i feel as though i am working less, and joy is a part of each day. additionally, i had my best day of sales ever last thursday, only to beat it less than a week later. i am grateful. i am grateful. i am grateful.

futile devices

oh sufjan, you're doing me well right now.
how do you manage such micro-bits of supreme beauty?
the first song off the new album is currently on repeat and it's only two minutes.

here are the video and lyrics:







lyrics:

it's been a long long time since i memorized your face
it's been four hours now since i wandered through your place
and when i sleep on your couch i feel very safe
and when you bring the blankets i cover up my face

i do
love you
i do
love you

and when you play guitar i listen to the strings plus
the metal vibrates underneath your fingers
and when you crochet i feel mesmerized and proud
and don't say 'i love you' without saying it out loud

it's hard, so i won't say it at all
and i won't stay very long
but you are the life i needed all along
i think of you as my brother although that sounds dumb
and words are futile devices.

singing lessons

okay, so because i think singing is the *last* art i could ever participate in, i am going to deliberately walk into my fears and take some singing lessons.

this is terrifying.

and because i have been taking myself too seriously lately, i thought i would put myself out there a little more and record myself singing and then SHARE it. i spent over an hour trying to get the perfect clip of me singing a sunday smile, but i think i like this one because of how imperfect it is and how much i need to stretch into and own myself in imperfect spaces.

so i am working on being okay with an unflattering angle on my face, shy run-on jabber, a hiccup in the first measure or two that forced me to restart AND, most preciously, a hilarious ending that could never be faked. so, enjoy.

a sunny drive + a good song

also available by clicking here.

a lovely day

Split Series - Jason Mraz - It's a lovely day
by lablogotheque

street light suns

so, my sun/sky project has been a little neglected, but i still look up to the light whether or not it's dark outside. and unfortunately there's a lot of dark these days thanks to the loss of daylight savings time. sniff sniff.

adieu

and so my friends, the time has come to say goodbye for a little while.
10:15am is going on a temporary hiatus while we/they redevelop the site and unveil a newer, spiffier ten15am.com.

today the loyal contributors who have slowly gathered daily to document their life at 10:15am put one final image in for the year at 10:15 on 10/15. one of the creators asked that we photograph ourselves today.

here is my video contribution:

and i already feel a little/LOT sad about this parting.