black & blue

i have several mysterious bruises up and down my left arm. the largest is about 2 inches by 2.5 inches; the smallest about 1 inch square. they hurt all day today, but are just now distinguishing themselves visually with their dark tones glowering from underneath the pale skin and freckles.

i guess i had more adrenaline in my system last night than i previously thought because i have no recollection of hitting anything during my activity in class. another classmate suggested the most likely: i clobbered myself on the door somehow tearing into the room.

hmm....

and

ouch.

alphabet soup

so, my love for the photographic dictionary and ten15am.com has merged and for the next 26 days, this is how it will be progressing:

a is for action figure

{later named arthur ardor avenger by my pal, cameron}

b is for blue

{photographed by cameron so i could participate in humiliation hour - see here}

c is for colorful cloth

{rephotographed for the purposes of 10:15am}

d is for disco ball

e is for emboldening boots

tomorrow is f. for fantastic. finite. furry. feline. future and farce. what will i choose to photograph....

[juhst]

just
[juhst] adverb

1. by a narrow margin; barely: the arrow just missed the mark.
2. only or merely: he was just a clerk until he became ambitious.

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

waiting for the elevator on one of the rare occasions i wanted to ride instead of climb to the 5th floor: you will never be just anything.

thank you.
i want to believe you.
secret: {{{{{{{{{and part of me already does.}}}}}}}}}}}


currently listening to: from the cloudie day mix, 747 - kent.

meisner - day 2.3

two highlights from class.

i want. i need.
it's an exercise where you simply stand, feet not quite shoulder width apart, hands extended gently in front of you. you look out above the heads of the audience, eyes open. you say i want and extend your hands half way forward. then you say i need and extend your hands all the way in front of you.
repeat.
and repeat.
and repeat.
and repeat.
minutes pass.
more pass.
and i wasn't really coming up with anything much. this curious blankness and ambivalence interrupted only by the sudden and vivid image of a set of my grandfather's scales after i said i want. it caught me off guard how unexpected and visceral the desire came to me. but it slipped away fairly quickly as i remembered it goes to an uncle, and the void-like nonresponse resumed.
until.
robin walked up to me, gently guided my back to straighten, my shoulders pulled from their slump, and adjusted my neck to float loosely above my spine. she gave me back the last inches of my six feet and whispered a suggestion in my ear: don't apologize. you deserve what you're asking for. hold your hands like it can be put into them. you can have it. don't apologize.
the shift was immediate as i gave myself permission to tap into my desires. first the grief rushed to the surface. next determination. anger at some point. but the biggest and most constant change was that i was present in my self. sans apologies. i was tall. strong. present. alive. quietly firm.
and despite having a vividly cinematic inner eye, no images came. just a surging and tumultuous connection to my desire. it's a scary place to go, and it's another i've long avoided.

hi desire, my name is nathania. join me and my body. we'll make a lovely trio if we can work in tandem.


second highlight of the night. stole the spotlight actually. the big o {see previous post O}.

it started with my certainty of failure. i was absolutely decided i hadn't prepped enough or it wouldn't work. i had bitten off too much. i could never take on these circumstances...i ran headlong into this wall o' doubt i had built for myself all afternoon, and wallowed further while the first two sets of students went. then i decided to get it over with, reminding myself that whether or not i fail, it will still provide information {robin's words that encourage observation over judgment}.

outside in the hallway, i went through my constant companion of unhelpful thoughts of when i get into the space i will do this, i will feel this, i should be this, or i can't do this.

but.

this time i had a clear moment when i told myself: yes, you can. just do it. and the prep work suddenly started working. my daydream got more vivid. i went to new places. my breathing changed and my heart sped up. and at some point, i just told myself go without trying to wait for an emotional response to manifest.

and go i did.

i started by racing down the stairs at the entrance of freehold and then quickly turned and raced back up three or so at a time. i grasped the rail for extra leverage. i went as fast as i could go. sprinted down the hall, my steps loud in my ears while clutching my clothing to me, and ran into the room.

in my panic i lost a shoe between the door and bed {the other followed it later to the floor}, but i didn't slow as i threw myself on the mattress, wrapped myself in the blankets and started sobbing {perhaps they had started earlier, not quite sure}. they were full body sobs. the kind that start somewhere deeper in your body than even your stomach. and the cries shifted and undulated through a journey of rising and falling terror as i twisted in bed. pulling the blankets this way. wrapping myself up in another way. hiding. protecting. grieving. partly aware of myself and yet completely helpless against the momentum of what i had set in motion.

robin ended the exercise and had us sing i'm a little teapot, complete with hand gestures, to shake the circumstances. it worked until i had to talk about what i had experienced.

i imagined that someone was waiting in the back entrance/fire escape of my building. he struck me from behind as i was coming in and pulled me down to rape me. he covered my mouth. pinned my body. hit my head on the floor several times as i struggled. he got as far as unbuttoning my shirt before a moment's inattention gave me an opening to knee him in the crotch with every once of power in my lengthy quad. and {new to this night's prep work} as i pulled him off me, i grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground several {three?} times as he tried to grab ahold of me again. fin.

as robin had been giving notes to other students, i realized i wasn't specific enough on what this event would mean to me. and as i mused while dreading my turn, i realized part of the core, the heart of what this means to me, is not just the formidable violation of personal space, but also the loss of the safety and security of my home. my

so, i guess i've uncovered one of the things that will drive me to violence. finally.

and, i guess i didn't fail despite all i feared/invested otherwise.


{one note: mom, or whomever, don't worry, my building is in fact quite safe. even the back way is well lit. i double-checked tonight when i used it, and no one could hide in the space i envisioned.}

currently listening to: couldie day mix - lyla, cocorosie; clausterphobe, katie todd; slow dance, ida; etc...

O

today in class, i confessed to an analogy i've found between acting and "real life" (though i ask, when does life get more real for me than through the life that acting brings...).

no men were currently in the little gathering of picnic-ers on the floor of the class space, so, when the topic moved to the experience of forcing an emotional response, i sheepishly {practically in a whisper} said: i feel like trying to force an emotional response is as frustrating and futile as forcing an orgasm. it's either going to happen, or it's not, and sitting there trying to force your body there just makes it less likely and less enjoyable.

there was a wave of agreement from my listeners and {of course} a few off color jokes as the idea was freely distributed among the classmates currently in the room.



on the flip side, the experience of really nailing something, achieving a fully successful response, even the uncomfortable ones of shuddering tears or violent shouts, is as heady and intoxicating as the best orgasm.

and it always takes me a while to come down again–which is why i'm perched in my studio, writing, a mellow mix serenading in the background, instead of doing the pre-sleep, pre-work week tasks.

these happen so infrequently, i have to savor them.

and, of course, i have to preserve them.



{one note: i wasn't able to come down from the restless high until 2am. i had to write. clean. putter. organize. etc.}

currently listening to: a mix called cloudie day mix, featuring radiohead, sigur ros, elliot smith, sufjan stevens, etc.

three thoughts.

procrastination.
certainty of failure.
frustration.

{repeat.}

contact

nathania, this is your body.

body, meet nathania.

it's been a long time.

a friend rented space at a local studio
where i used to dance weekly
at the contact improv jams
(see below for explanation of c.i.).
their dance partner canceled so
i tagged along for a two hour block of
play. body-grounding play. where even
my recently pulled out neck couldn't get
in the way of the pure joy of movement.

it's been a long time since i've been in
this space. two years? perhaps
heading on towards three years.
it was really good to be back.
and while i'm trying to relate to my
body as an instrument of the senses
rather than an object of beauty
(or lack thereof in my paradigm)
i find in the dance space it is helpful
to move away from seeing myself as an
instrument of graceful or beautiful movement
(or lack thereof),
and instead approach my body
as an instrument of joy and impulses
and intuition - sometimes one hits the
zone of the dance floor and feels like
there is telepathic communication between
oneself and one's partner and it's
quite
quite
fun.
and that's just one of many joys of playful movement for me.
just one.


it was good to be back.

contact improv: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contact_improvisation

nathania no shame tenwolde

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9262#comment-16084

two other images also apart of this story:

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9411

and

http://www.ten15am.com/?p=9390

meisner - day 2.2

the second day we did an exercise about sleeping on stage via taking yourself through a specific day dream. we were to give ourselves permission to follow wherever it lead. and, of course, we had to start with an extreme direction: intense joy, lust, rage, shame, etc, etc.

i chose rage.

it's one of the hardest places for me to go and an area i particularly want to explore this quarter. and the idea i chose as my entry into the daydream was that of smashing breakables.

it's my turn, and i lie down in the bed on stage and go into this mind space full of breakables and immediately begin smashing with a baseball bat. not a coincidence: i chose a roomful of mirrors.

i destroyed each and every one until the shards congealed together into a nightmare of massive, jittery spiders. but i attacked them too, smashing them to bits that were gracious enough to stay dead on the floor the second time.

when all was still, my bat was no longer i my hands, and i stretched out my arms to deliberately shred my hands on the sharp edges around the room. it was this aggressively self destructive act of defiance. calculated self-inflicted violence.

i was ruthless in my deliberateness. completely ruthless.

i stopped and look down: dispassionately {and painlessly} noticing the blood covering my hands and stretching toward my elbows, knowing that firmly lodged in the cuts were countless glass shards. and this moment lasted for a while, filled with curiosity and stillness. and significantly: judgement was withheld, or rather, was nonexistent.

time stretched out in my purgatory until i lay down and looked up at the one perfect mirror still left in the place. i hadn't realized it was there on the ceiling. as big as the room. generous and expansive. and i looked up at my naked length until a good friend appeared, softly walked up to me, and gently held and kissed each hand. the blood was cleaned. the shards and wounds non existent.

(let it be noted here that the friend is one who has journeyed a long way with me through my story of body image, sensuality, etc)

we lay down, intertwined in naked silence, until it occurred to me that we couldn't be resting so peacefully on shards of glass, and when i looked down to see where we were, a lush, green field, with foot-high grass surged out from our pale bodies. and we cuddled under the sky until the dream ended in a series of quick images: running through the grass, diving into a meandering river and then being carried blissfully along our way. laughter. smiles. cool water. refresh. fin.

needless to say, i find it interesting that rage can also lead back to sensuality. two way street. or perhaps more accurately two way secret door.

landing-place, again.

{my darlings who i have been spending time with, in or away from my home, should not read this as a critique on who/how i've been spending my time. just in case. it caused worry.}



i can always tell when i haven't had enough time at home {alone - as a wise friend recently distinguished} when i find myself on hands and knees at 12:30am scrubbing my kitchen floor.

cleaning is just one of many excuses to putter around my space while slowly and steadily sinking into a groundedness only a home well established can reflect back to me.

thank you, studio.
it was a good night.
{series of nights, actually, but who's counting, really.}

meisner - 2.1

that's version: 2nd quarter, day 1.



the quarter started off uniquely in that i didn't want to be there.

i was sick, my neck was one turn to the right shy of being completely thrown out of whack, and i needed a few extra days of quiet before the onslaught. but then class started and the momentum absorbed me.

not getting sucked in by the work isn't an option i guess.



even though the class ended early due to snow {which, by the way, can be dumped on us till may now that i have waterproof boots}, there was still time for a significant activity we completed that is still sieving through my mind.



we had five prompts. and the object was to take the first thought/idea/emotion/image that strikes us in response to the prompt, live this idea fully in our body and come up with an essential gesture to express this idea. take the idea, absorb it, and live it fully in our body.

the prompts were: that golden time when..., your greatest longing, your greatest joy, your greatest shame, and your source of power.

the one that was most significant was the first thing that came to mind when she said those words "what is your source power? that thing specific to you that is your strength." what came to mind first was:

my body.

my six footness. every inch. even the painful top three inches that are the difference between being a tall woman and a tall woman. even the {poor attempt at shortening myself} slumped shoulders. and perhaps most particularly the sensuality i'm just starting to let free.

the final movement, the essence of the idea and experience of it, was arms extended above the head and fingers flexed and alternating in a powerful motion downward like a bold/strong movement down a lover's back. confident. sultry. present.

later we had to string the different movements together to make a phrase, and pick one of the gestures to repeat several times. she spoke about how, through the repetition, one is able to till further into the depths of an idea, but i still never expected how aggressive the gestures became by doing it once, twice, three, four, five? times. i was able to use the freedom i was living toward my body and tap into the holding space where i put all of my extremes. where i hold myself in. throw down the sand bags so that even the rising waters of can't seep through. but it's there. waiting for me to give it permission.

and i was reminded again about what a friend suggested: that my inability to express my sensuality is linked to my inability to release my rage. my violence. my self to the point of inflicting bodily harm in the name of the people i love.

i still have so much to learn about myself.

daunting/really exciting.

{and for those jumping into my writing, this is in reference to specific acting class assignments that involve imagining life changing circumstances to the farfarfar extreme. so, rest assured, i am still a healthy, well adjusted citizen of the cosmos.}

currently listening to: a mix cd from a friend titled usda grade a nut butter.

~nate the nut.

a year of small travels

roseburg, or
san diego, ca (x2)
eugene, or
estes park, co
vancouver, bc, canada
santa barbara, ca
los angeles, ca


currently listening to: high and dry - radiohead

\KAN-der\

candor \KAN-der\, noun:

1. honesty in giving one's view or opinion; frankness and sincerity
2. fairness; impartiality

c.1637 from earlier senses c. 1398, from latin candor "purity, openness," originally "whiteness," from latin candere "to shine."


i like how it's related to a color. whiteness.
and i like how it's intersected my life:
the dear one(s) who tell me the truth.
and gently guide me forward by illuminating the spaces
i could inhabit.
if i so chose.
and they make the choice so easy. {and fun}.


currently listening to: nothing. work was too stressful 1 1/2 radiohead songs in, so i had to turn it off. sigh.

abstinence

it's been a few days.
maybe a week.
two?

i don't know exactly. but however long it's been, i haven't been listening to radiohead for a significant amount of time in nathania cosmos.

but it's been more than just a choice to listen to something else.
it's been a quiet, deliberate avoidance.

then my ipod went kaput yesterday.
hopefully not permanently dead.
and until i figure it out, it's youtube music for me.

and i paused a few seconds before entering "radiohead" into the search field. not certain if i wanted to enter that space.

but i did.

and after scanning the first few hits, opted for an oldie, no surprises.

and sure enough, the familiar wash of color and constriction released from somewhere in my core - the literal feeling was as though a taut gauzy tape was slowly unwinding from around my heart. and suddenly it can see and hear and breathe again. though moments before hitting the play button, i hadn't even been aware that anything had been holding me in.


and there is

an ache

associated with this return to feeling.
like the pins and needles returning to flesh folded under the body, immobile and useless for too long.


and on top of this all is this driving curiosity that cornered me into my radiohead drought so that i can feel the prickle and ask myself
why?
how?
to what end and purpose?

{yet again}

in the hopes that this time there will be an answer.




currently listening to: radiohead on youtube.

nut.

has officially been added to my list of nicknames.
as always, it's as much a reflection of the giver as it is of their perception of me.
this one makes me smile all the way down to my toes.
and that's a good long distance.

the photographic dictionary

it makes my eyes salivate.
my pleasing-composition bone tingle.
my aesthetic heart swell.





so far i've only made it through "g" but here are just a few of my favorites:

http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/absence.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/breath.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/breeze.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/book.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/connection.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/disarray.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/dream.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/eight.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/fashion.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/field.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/flight.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/game.html

and occasionally i just plain ol' chuckle:

http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/fluff.html
http://www.thephotographicdictionary.org/curiosity.html


currently listening to: my neighbor's tv that never bothers me as much as i would think.
photo credit: josh murfitt

xanthous

\ZAN-thuhs\, adjective:

yellow; yellowish

an interesting color word. it slides off the tongue with assonance and flair.

alizarin & viridian are two other favorites. and if i take after my mother and grandmother and produce a set of twins (boy/girl being my wish), i would name them alizarin and viridian. nicknames could be zarin and dian. red/green. i always loved warm/cool color combinations. and it's a complimentary color scheme to boot.

currently listening to: silence. because i don't listen to music really when i'm sick.

finally!

i have internet at home.
more ability to blog. write significant emails. etc. etc.
yipee skippy.


oh, wait.
class starts today.
rehearsal starts tomorrow.
i got it just in time for having no time.
see you around.
perhaps.

turning over the year

it was a quiet night at home. just the way i wanted.

a few spacious hours to clean and shower (though the calm was violently interrupted by the fire alarm that suddenly, after a month of living in my new place, decided to wake the dead because steam -oh dear god, NOT STEAM! - was in my apartment). next, i puttered over to the kitchen to cook before two close friends came over.

a night of home made food. fresh (albeit slightly imperfect) cupcakes. pear cider. laughter. and honest communication of many forms.

it was a quiet night at home. and it held far more then i ever could have imagined.

i am grateful.

happy new year.

a year of connections

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.

[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.

winter break

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:

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).

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.

giddy:

crushes.
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:

the one time the compass didn't point true.

confident:

my red dress.
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:

admitting to moments of feeling beautiful.

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

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.

in/out my kitchen window

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

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

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.

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.

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).

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

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.

things i have learned because i ride the bus:

1. it is possible for me to be not only punctual, but early.

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.

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.

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

(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.

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.}

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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 rode the bus to work today.

and i'm pretty proud of myself.

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.

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