red.

a good day for four wheeling. virgin trip.

the king of limbs

on every album there are the songs i get right away and then those that need to steep a while. it took me until the second live show to get bodysnatchers from their last album and the second night of thom's new york city shows to get the hollowed earth and being pulled apart by horses. this doesn't bother me. it's just a result of how dissonant and dynamic their range can be.

this album is no different, though i can't tell what i am or am not able to absorb because of a meager 4 hours of sleep last night.

what i am clear on is my reaction to track #6. the opening notes. the simple pulse of the piano. my response swelling up from nowhere i can account for. i had to pull over and sob for most of my first listen, then sit, the track on repeat, in a still car and under a full moon for another four or five repetitions.*

thom. you've done it again.


i am grateful and no, i don't think it's over yet.

codex

sleight of hand
jump off the end
into a clear lake
no one around
just dragonflies
fantasize
no one gets hurt
you don't know
what's wrong**

slide your hand
jump off the end
the water's clear
and innocent
the water's clear
and innocent

*for the record, i've never had this response to any song. ever. particularly on a first listen.
**not quite sure of this lyric.

here we go

alone for the first time today about to head out on a drive to housesit. the perfect venue for a listen to the long awaited radiohead album.

and for some reason, i find myself reluctant. hesitantly peering over the edge. they haven't let me down yet, but what if they start now? it's hard to ask so much from even the gods in your life.

my heart is open. aching already but alive and grateful.

i will catch you on the other side.

oh what a day...

...and it's only 9am.

it started at 6. restless again. toss. turn. realize i wasn't going to sleep, so i may as well go read that email you sent me. except how did i know it was going to be there, sitting calmly amongst groupons and facebook comments? i didn't. and yet i did – for the second time this week.

an email was returned while my enthusiasm ensued.

too much to go back to sleep. so i started my day an hour and a half early, using that extra time to make my bed, cook a real breakfast complete with a big mug of tea and finally watch this TED talk that i've been meaning to see for over a month. one that affirms that the way i live, walking the ways of vulnerability and authenticity, stating that i might just be on to something even as crazy as i think others see me as sometimes. it's the only way i can live and here i'm told it might just be a good way. {see for yourself below}

next, {and now, this is a big next} i see the fact that radiohead released their newest album a day early.

my god.

my dear dear dear god.

i've downloaded it, but refuse to listen to it until i have the proper space to do so. and for now, it's sitting out in front of me side by side with a skype call i hope happens soon.

vulnerability. glorious, raw and beautiful vulnerability. how you call me forward into the life i want to lead.

stragglers in the flock

so, i'm still perpetually behind in my life and still Still STILL owe a long post about the bird project, but in the meantime, here are the stragglers that have arrived over the last month or so. some had needed to be resent due to inconsistent mail delivery, others needed addresses to be emailed, etc. but here they are, no less well received and a lovely addition to the flock.

thank you steve {radiohead friend #5}, sylwinn, katie {and daniel!}, laura & jim {radiohead friend #4}.

more soon.

dear heavenly father {part 2}

thank you for making my work day short yesterday.
thank you for providing me the time and energy to go on a 6 mile run yesterday.
thank you for the impulse to buy a water and wind resistant jacket earlier this week.
thank you for the intuition to go back into the house to grab that extra layer of long sleeves.

i do NOT, however, have much gratitude about your choice of weather patterns. not 5 minutes into an hour long run not only did you take that glorious sun away but you gave me hail instead. HAIL. and lots of it. aaaaaaand, if that weren't enough, after making it back a bit worse for the wear, you tease me with the sun popping out again all sprightly and sweet as i'm driving home, sopping wet and cold.

we need to work on our weather relationship here, buddy.

amen.

ode to joy

i know i've said it here several times: my year started off on the wrong foot {to put it mildly} and i've spent the last month recovering in body and soul from the beating, but here i am, 47 days into the new year, finally making headway on the intention i had set for myself this year: making this year about joy.

after seeing beethoven's 9th twice last year, i decided that seeing the new year's eve show would be an elegant and symbolic way to welcome the new year in. so this year, i found a few friends of mine also not interested in finding the best way to get your drink on and the tickets were purchased.

i always take a few days off around the new year, ostensibly to celebrate my best friend's birthday {on the 31st}, but this year i finally realized that, as much as i adore her, i don't even take two days off for my birthday so there must be some bigger motivation for that space. and as soon as i realized that her birthday wasn't the real motivating factor, the simple truth emerged: new year's is one of the most spiritual and internal times of the year for me. as much as i adore my birthday as my own personal new year, this one has the weight of the world behind it. and as much as i don't really buy into all the hoopla around new year's resolutions and joining a gym because you should finally start working out this year, i do enjoy this time set aside by the whole culture to examine and reflect. the crossing over from one year to the next is the most tangible experience of time's passage and so it's an important and finite earmark of progress.

and that's me: all about self-reflection, personal, emotional and spiritual evolution and this is my time to steep in where i've been and where i want to go.

and 2010's new year's eve, completely as a response to a whim of the morning, was spent almost entirely scrubbing my apartment. and i don't use the word scrubbing flippantly. i cleaned as thoroughly as one does on moving out. hands and knees, reaching into dark corners, pulling out the big guns sort of cleaning. it was a good purge.

by 9pm the sore throat had kicked in and by 1:30am, as i was heading to bed, i was feverish and pretty certain i had strep.

the rest you know, or can read about in the entries below, but in short, was a strange and uncomfortable purge of my body and spirit. confusion. fever. a few dark days of depression. rage. hurt. those sorts of things.

and then there was vancouver.

and now there is me. here. finding that joy i had hoped to welcome in on january 1st. and while i've had my usual amounts of laughter and fun in the past month and a half, i guess what i'm waking up to in myself today is joy for no reason beyond the fact that i am finally looking forward to the year. that things aren't working out exactly as i would want them in several avenues of my life, but it's not a threat. no drama. simple. all witnessed by calm, collected, and hopeful nathania.



it's nice to be back to myself. the new year can begin.

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

after a half day at work today, i'm excited for an afternoon run in the sun filled sky and an evening of more scrubbing dark corners housecleaning, check-book balancing, bill paying, work catching up, organizational sorts of things. getting myself back in order. and tomorrow, another evening free of commitments, tomorrow is for joy. painting. fun. the birds. knitting if i want. that sort of thing.

dear heavenly father...

(that's how I started all my prayers as a kid)
...please let my work day be quick, lucrative and efficient so that the sun is still shining when i get home and i get to take a long run under it's brilliant warmth.

amen.

{belated} valentine's day

a little taste of my homemade cookies for all of you loved ones out there i wasn't able to share the originals with. i had a blast distributing them amongst my neighbors, coworkers and fellow knitting night girlfriends {who abandoned husbands/fiancees to come and have a potluck last night}. i thought of many of my far away friends and wished i could have given you a more tangible taste.




and this card was a determined little valentine showing up in my mailbox today, missing a good portion of the envelope but still giving me every inch of joy that its sender had intended.

all that rises must converge

convergence.
a word running through my life these past two days.
and i'm not sure exactly how to lay out all the vectors arriving
from different times and appearing, suddenly, unexpectedly
all within days or even minutes of each other.
everything is just happening so quickly.
staccato notes.
crescendo.
cymbal rush.
but i am here
and i already know that this new radiohead album
{only one of the four significant things coming suddenly into my life this week}
will mark a new time period in my life.
my heart is open, ready and full.
and i can hardly wait.

where is home?

alabama arkansas
i do love my ma and my pa
but not the way i do love you...

home is wherever i'm with you...
home is whenever i'm with you...
take me home...

lyrics from the song i've had on and off repeat since driving up to vancouver: home by edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros.

vancouver

vancouver. feb 5th to feb 8th. three full days of no email, only one phone call and a handful of texts {at most}. it was a good reminder that my life is not as predictable as i often feel it is and an even bettere reminder that i am great company. adventurous. kind. open to others and always free to follow the urges of spontaneity.

my first act in the city was to sleep for 10 hours straight. long overdue. i have been abusing my body pretty steadily in the sleep department since moving out on my own and no longer having a partner waiting for me to join him in bed or sleep.

and my second act was to take a jog into stanley park a little ways, but it ended up being a full-on circuit of the park {in the rain} which brings my longest run up to about 8.8 miles including the trek to and from the hostel. this is where i learned that canadians are wonderful about acknowledging fellow runners {often with a wave, but occasionally with a gentlemanly tipped hat}. one such runner gave me a courteous wave causing a pedestrian heading in the same direction as me to turn and glance in my direction. i nodded cheers to him as i passed which gave him the opportunity to ask how much farther to the next roadway and/or the exit to the park. professing ignorance, i estimated how far i felt i had jogged already and commiserated upon our shared chagrin at being sucked into a circuit of the park despite other intentions.

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

i jogged away suddenly overcome with longing for a particular
faraway friend. we had only just reconnected after a ten month
silence in the wake of first meeting. it was a bittersweet feeling
flooding me entirely and forcing me to close my eyes for my next few
steps to just register the delicate balance of the regret i still carry,
almost a year later, of not getting the coffee i still want to have
with him as well as the hope of hearing from him soon given the
newly re-established connection.

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

the rest of the day was filled with pho, coffee and adventuring to see a movie alone {barney's version, a comedy which had a little too much heartbreak to really be a comedy}, and lots and lots and lots of walking. the rain was old by the end of the day, but the miles in my blue suede shoes were long and flat and good length to my newly acquired running muscles.

medina cafe

the 2nd day i finally made it to medina, my favorite place to eat in vancouver. discovered by my friend sheree, it's got the most amazing little waffles & dips, serves the best earl grey i've had in years and paella with just the right amount of lime and avocado. and the service is as wonderful as the food & decor, which says a lot.

top left: dk chocolate mocha from medina -- top right: mocha from 49th parallel

on assignment for my barista friend who wanted some beans they've roasted.

bottom left: paella from medina with the perfect amount of lime -- bottom right: fricassé, also from medina. braised short ribs. yum.

the rest of monday day was spent on a meander through gas town: home to a variety of boutiques and curiosity shops that eventually rewarded my scavenging efforts with a new umbrella, some lovely notepads and as i headed back home, exhausted and hungry, i also happened to stop by downtown and discover a big sale on designer jeans. hello, skinny jeans. and another pair of paige jeans i didn't need except that they were the perfect size {and length!} and i'll know i'll get at least three years out of them. yipee.

after a cat nap back at the hostel {which i lucked out and never had to share my room with anyone}, i ventured out again into the city and landed at a late night {for canada} coffee shop where i met a lovely barista {they are all becoming my friends} who is traveling to seattle later in the week. we chatted quite a bit about the two cities and i drew out an entire list and map of places to go, drink, eat, coffee-shop it, etc. and when her cafe closed, i followed my intuition's nose and walked a block north to see if i could find something else and viola! a poetry slam! i caught the last round and was almost moved to tears by one of the performers. he needed help with articulation, but the 2/3's of the words i did understand had me going.

on the walk home from the train, a fellow train rider kept giving me sidelong glances that i wasn't sure how to interpret. as i walked past him and the girl he was with he said nice boots and gestured toward my feet. as i said thanks his friend asked incredulously: did you say nice boobs or nice boots?!?!?! i laughed and defended him: he said boots and gestured toward my feet so it was very clear. he then asked if i liked poetry and then i understood the familiar glances, they too were at the slam. we chatted the whole way home touching topics from my writing and blog to his flat mate's stay at my hostel when she first moved to the city. it was lovely being open and alive to the connections around. the spontaneity of deciding to just find something to do in an unfamiliar city without and plans and the rewards of following my intuition.

the final day found me on a shorter run to the park across the water. i wanted to get some miles in but also sleep in and also check out in time and also get to medina before breakfast was done. that was kind of the spirit of the last day. cram cram cram. but i managed to do everything without a spirit of rushedness and enjoyed the welcome back and extra smiles of the medina waitstaff. and the fricassé and two waffles with dark chocolate dip to go were totally worth coming back for.

my trip ended with a walk back to stanley park and a visit to the aquarium. i had need to feel a sense of play that day. allow the observer and kid out for a bit as well as avoid stores like the plague because i had already splurged enough on clothing in the past several days. as much as the belugas were magical and the dolphins a blast, my favorite bit of the aquarium {and it seems to be a theme for me} was the golden-orange jellyfish lit up on the blue background {pictures to follow in the next post or so}. there is something magical about watching them float. perhaps because they don't have any eyes and just seem to meander along inexplicably. i stood there for a long time face pressed up against the glass just watching and floating along there with them.

after the aquarium i was pretty exhausted and couldn't get home, to whole foods for road fare and then on the road fast enough. to return home to the grind i love and hate.

the final sunset as i was pulling out of town.

driving songs for the trip: home -- edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros; spanish sahara -- foals; 10 miles stereo -- beach house; the ballad of raa -- rural alberta advantage
running song for the trip: a modern leper -- frightened rabbit {on repeat for most of the 8.8+ mile run}
favorite meal of the trip -- fricassé.

damn.

back from canada.
more details tomorrow.
in short: a lovely time.




but also a clear message that all my messes are patiently waiting for me when i returned home {and i'm not just talking about the dishes}.



damn. i really thought i could run and hide and they would go away.



luckily a few lovely things were also awaiting my return. one in particular that warms me to my tippy toes {and made me cheer so loudly i freaked out the cat i'm watching which put an abrupt stop to the endless lovin' he was demanding after a three day absence}.

yet even in the sweeter things, it's funny how as soon as i get what i've been asking for i always want more.


damn.

unplug & reset

this year has started off as a bust. getting sick just as the new year chimed in and staying that way for over two weeks was bad enough but a gentle break-up turned sour {and still creaking along} was the final straw.

so here i am
hitting the restart button conveniently timed with the chinese new year.

i am honoring this transition into the year i want to have with a three day getaway to vancouver, bc, completely unfettered by visiting friends or traveling with them* as well as my ever present companion, technology. my trusty laptop, sparrow, was handed over to the apple geniuses tonight to get a facelift and screen replacement and my smart phone will soon {after this post} become a dumb phone as i turn off data roaming and refuse to connect to wireless networks for anything more than getting directions {though i plan on using actual paper maps as much as possible}.

this time is for me
inward
quiet
yet adventurous.

i know i want to run through stanley park, eat at medina {sans s, sniff sniff}, find this paper store i have read a bit about, go to the aquarium and perhaps see a movie. but except for stanley and medina, it's all up to my whim and that's exactly what i need.

so this is nathania tenwolde signing off from vancouver, bc. catch you on the other side.

*not that i wouldn't adore having my go-to vancouver buddy, s, at my side right now.

the baby.

last sunday night i had an intense dream about being pregnant {documented here} and now, a week and a day later, i dreamed i gave birth.

i was at work and rather suddenly i was on the other side of giving birth to a baby boy. the birth itself wasn't really depicted in the dream, i just got the sense that i had a birth story much like a good friend just described for her 2nd child: ease-full and short, ending with her catching him herself while standing in the shower. i wasn't in a shower in my dream, but i do remember the sense of surprise at how simple it was and suddenly i had a baby in my hands and was wondering if the hospital would charge me for giving birth at the hospital even if i didn't use their facilities.

i was given/helped myself to a room and was setting up a space for the two of us when i noticed this thick, translucently white substance {almost like egg whites, but milky white} covering his hair and part of his face/body. i took him over to the sink and washed it gently off and was amazed to discover how absolutely beautiful he was. he was a radiant skinned, luminous blue eyes looking up at me so directly, completely calm and perfectly plump baby. and his hair. my goodness, how i remember his hair. longish, thick and a deep blond. disheveled just the way i adore it. he was amazing and the dream ended with me standing there, gazing down at this being with love and awe.

so, i'm left to wonder: what is being manifested so clearly into my life? called to my attention with these dreams of the ultimate act of creation? i don't know, but what i do know is that whatever it is it will be wonderful.

{this is one of the shoots i will remember for a while--already the shoot is months back.
this baby was amazing. so calm and adorable.
the hair color and texture isn't right, but everything else hits the spot}

city sky scape

#8

i sent the first email in the wake of seeing thom last spring. put into words something surprising and tender. something i was so grateful to the universe for giving me when i hadn't even thought to ask. but the silence that was returned was puzzling. i had been so certain we had been reading from the same page, so where did our stories split?

i agitated {gently} as i always do. worried and second guessed, and was finally given the wise words: if he's important, he isn't far.

almost a year later now, each simultaneously nudging a mutual friend to do something we both knew we should just ask for ourselves, friends and facebook have come through for us and here we are: in connection. just as we ought to be.

finally, radiohead friend #8 has joined the family stepping into a comfortable spot that i didn't even realize i was still keeping warm for him.


1. mike
2. jason
3. chris
4. jim
5. steve
6. lauren
7. matt
8. shervin
9. kevin


currently listening to: the light - the album leaf

red dress photos part 2.

so here are some more of the images, including one more banner possibility {#5 for voting}. i love the contrast of the red/green color scheme for this first set of photos and something about the unconventional posing mary guided me into allowed me to be relaxed in a way i rarely find myself in front of a camera. the second set are all photos that were taken with my lensbaby which gave the images that blurry, dreamy quality. to be noted, the bench in the last photo was flipping cold. eek.

random note: the bottom of my rib cage protrudes strangely. i was first told this by a doctor giving me a sports physical in middle or high school. he kind of knocked on them like a door, surprised at how they come out from my body. i feel like it's most noticeable in the photo for #5 banner, the last photo of the first series and the lensbaby ones where i'm standing up. anyone else have a ribcage like mine? hmm...

5.

facelift part 2.

as promised months ago, i am finally working on the facelift of my blog {so, those of you waiting on the posting about my birthday project, stay tuned, i am catching up with myself}. i had a fun {albeit a wee bit on the cold side} photo shoot in volunteer park with one of my coworkers today. she did a fantastic job and here are a few of the new banners i am toying with. please feel free to weigh in your vote and more photos from the shoot coming soon....

1.

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

2.

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

3.

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

4.
{my least favorite but in line with my original idea conceived month ago}

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

5.
{added a day later}

notes from a part time insomniac

insomnia: 2
nathania: 0

this is the second time in a few days i find myself awake at inappropriate hours. damn, this has got to stop, starting with this recent habit of going to sleep after 1am on any given day and often as late as 2am. my adrenals don't like that. the rest of me doesn't like that either. two days ago it was a dream and today merely a random assortment of replays from the day before that really shouldn't make me agitate as much as they do.

often it's just a little palate cleanser such as this, a blog entry typed out as an email on my phone, that gets my mind off of the forgivables and lets me return to the sleep that i am hankering for.

wish me luck.

not pregnant

i have had pregnancy dreams before, but never like this. perhaps it's a result of being in the job that i am or from seeing/hearing someone close to me work her way through her first trimester {i will refer to her here as 's'}, but either way, i am awake and restless at 6am because of it.

in the dream, i had gone in for a physical and wasn't expecting to get the news, but the little old lady helping me was really quite cheerful about it and didn't seem to take offense when i asked a few times "are you sure?!?!" there was one part excitement, one part fear, but entirely no question in my mind that i would keep the child. she explained that my due date was in a few months {which, in the dream, was january 11th} and that i was just as far along as my friend, s. and in the weird way of time in dreams, the idea was i conceived right around the end of october and was a few months in, but january was also still a little ways out.

i left in an understandable state of shock and came home to a celebration of a lot of people gathering to celebrate s's pregnancy and as i walked up to her and my family gathered, it suddenly occurred to me that i didn't want to make this a dual announcement and that not only was i ashamed to not be married or even in a relationship, but that i also became aware of the possibility of avoiding the shame {as well as a massive disruption of my life without a partner to support me} by aborting the child.

i milled about a little and eventually left to go tell the only person who could be the father. it was suddenly early morning and when i entered his house, it was my older brother who answered the door. he explained that my ex realized it was me at the door and took his new girlfriend into her room to keep her away from me and continue sleeping. at this point i realized that my older brother was the perfect person to talk to and that he of all people wouldn't judge me for whatever decision i would make.

i walked up to him {suddenly we are on the back porch} and immediately he noticed the long and confident stride i had {and in the dream i had the presence of mind to credit that physical confidence to my new running habit}. next he pointed out the bulge on my tummy which, despite how far along i was, wasn't nearly large enough to be obvious i was pregnant.

s appeared out of nowhere and suddenly i found myself less inclined to talk about th situation. but my brother being as perceptive as he is fully comprehended everything i couldn't say. at this point the fact that this was a miracle baby {as it would have been in real life had i gotten pregnant from this particular person--an early bout of cancer in his life makes it hugely unlikely he'd conceive without ivf*} was occurring to me as well as the responsibility of keeping it for that reason alone almost.

i walked back inside to the living room only to find the my ex and his new girlfriend visible from where i was standing. her bedroom had become {in the fluid nature of dreams} accessible from the livingroom with only a curtain to separate the two. the curtain parted and i saw her was standing at the door, listening in to what was going on. when she realized i was aware of her, she crawled back into bed, the curtain parting just as she did so i was given a full view of her glare as well as the fact that, despite assurances to the contrary, my ex was abandoning me.

either dispersed throughout the dream or appearing as little vignettes at the end, i also recall images of a birth announcement design that i had settled on and was ordering {symbolically enough the announcement/name decision was linked visually to contact info and name of a website, which is what i am in dire need of} and i recall looking at and speaking to a saleswoman about fancy swaddling wraps and supplies. i was hesitant to purchase any because i knew i would get a lot from baby showers. so, despite the question of abortion in the dream there also seemed a concurrent exploration about keeping the child as well.

okay, the dream is down an hour has passed and i really hope sleep will let me return for at least a few more hours.

*in-vitro fertilization.

notes from the studio

after a holiday, sickness and then heartache hiatus, i am finally back to the easel. lately i have been haunted by thom yorke dreams where he's inaccessible or avoiding me, which is a sure sign i am neglecting my generative self.

i worked on two separate commissions and then rotated through a few for myself, including this one. it's from an image taken by my fellow sun/sky photographer, cameron, and i am excited for how it's coming along.

{dimensions: 3'x4'}

new miles

nothing like a bit of righteous anger and a new pair of running shoes to get me back into the swing of running. let me say here first, though, that i have never identified as a runner. even in middle and early high school i loathed distance running on the cross country team {until i was able to give up due to knee problems} and only tolerably enjoyed the sense of teamwork and hard exercise of the track {though the 400m and 4x400 meter race still makes me happy for whatever weird reason}.

so, here i am, completely surprised three runs into what i hope is a new habit and easily trekking 5 to 6 miles without too much stress. the last time i ran with any regularity {2.5 years ago}, it was a good day if i got 3 miles in, so i am justly proud of myself. i haven't been able get myself to a gym for about a year now and craved something more cardiovascular than yoga, which i am also hoping is a new habit.

wish me luck.

the return

mark & his baby

you know, my friend mark*? well, he got a baby in the mail yesterday. a lensbaby that is. it's a funky little lens that was a belated purchase with birthday money from my parents. i took it for a spin tonight and only got around to snapping a few frames, but she is part of the family already.

pho with my friend, e.

walking down broadway.

*aka my canon 5D mark ii

the ballad of raa

which you can listen to here.

hello, rage.

hello, rage, it's me, nathania. we haven't met up in a while, thankfully, and the last time i can recall you even showing up for me at all was at the service of my acting classes and imagined circumstances and not as a product of my own life. i should be grateful that you are such a rare visitor, but right now quite frankly, i am not. i actually resent you and your violent mutterings when all i long for is a quiet space with kind words. your presence sullies me even though i know you are there to inform me. and so it goes: i resent you. i. hate. you. i ache you. i crunch and tear you. hoping at the very least to find apathy has been invited along to our dour party if not its distant and far superior relative, forgiveness.



hello? forgiveness? are you there yet? it's me, nathania. i'm waiting for my visit with rage to finish, but he's drawing things out quite selfishly while i tap my fingers and constantly look at the time. as he's a little blind to my hints it appears i'm stuck a little longer until you and i can meet for tea and invite your dear friend, reconciliation. be patient. don't get started without me. i'll see you both soon i hope.

the remains of the words

i want to look into your heart and know that i can trust you again, but tonight i can't and you aren't even looking back at me anyway. the sad thing is, i don't think it costs you all that much to have let me go. you get all the sugar coating. you get the happy ending. and you've moved on, leaving me to your indifferent care.

and, in the end, who's to blame if the letter of the law was followed, but the spirit {and mine} was crushed in the process?

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

currently listening to: 10 mile stereo - beach house
lyrics, even the bit that i've breezed over them, seem appropriate:

the heart is a stone and this is a stone that we throw
put your hand on this stone, it's the stone of a home you know
they say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go
with our legs on the edge and our feet on the horizon

they say we can throw far but they don't know how far we throw
with our legs on the edge, and our feet on the horizon
the heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw
they say we will go far, but they don't know how far we'll go

it can't be gone, we're still right here
it took so long, can't say we heard it all
limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever

this push and pull is the force of a wave of time
in the heat of the night, we would cry, you are not mine
they said we would go far, but they don't know how far we'd go
'cause this heart is a stone, and this is a stone that we throw

it can't be gone, we're still right here
it took so long, can't say we saw it all
limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
tear a moment from the days that carry us on forever

it can't be gone, we're still right here
it took so long, can't say we felt it all
limbs parallel, we stood so long we fell
love's like a pantheon, it carries on forever

the remains of the day

treading dark waters tonight

still on the road to recovery.

a return to health always seems to be accompanied by both a breaking and reemergence of spirit. i'm currently stuck in between the breaking and the reemergence as it hasn't been a comfortable week emotionally. to say the least. i tried a couple of times to write about it, but only came across as whiny and snivelling, both of which were accurate, but not something i felt compelled to broadcast out beyond the few people {3 brave souls} that witnessed the physical or emotional collapses of the past week and spare change, often both together.

today is day nine and the first day that it felt actually tolerable to be in my skin and swallowing with my throat without painkillers or nyquill {which only serves to make me overly chatty if there is a friend on the other line of a phone call, or jittery yet fuzzy if i'm making efforts to sleep as i should}.

but my spirit is still trailing behind. on top of the usual sickness-and-escapist-reading induced existential crisis i always seem to encounter when i'm ill for more than 3 or 4 days, i was also dealt a heavy dose of change that i wasn't ready to have forced upon me. it was something i had tried to do several times, but always seemed to be talked back from my decision. and now the other wants to decide, and not as gently as i feel i deserved, so i am left, churlish and smarting, recognizing how it's fabulous for all involved and yet still feeling childish enough to be sore and slighted whenever i think about it. i am bigger than this, i know i am, and the support coming in from others only makes me feel worse. like the immature little sister who knows better but is still throwing a temper tantrum in front of the guests.

i am being obtuse, i know. but i am also ashamed. ashamed of the decision. ashamed of my reaction. ashamed i couldn't stand by my own truth and decision i had realized months earlier. ashamed of the implied rejection. ashamed. ashamed. angry and ashamed.

i am tired.
it's midnight.
i need to go to sleep with or without the aid of nyquill.
i need to restart the artist's way that got lost somehow in the chaos of christmas.
i need to find my spirit again.
i need to find my hope.
i need to be productive and get a lot done.
i need to relax.
i need to be finished. to lay and rest, an old woman, done with a long life and satisfied. i am tired of this rat race i fear will never change, and will only one day include a husband and children trapped running on the same wheel i find myself on. this year needs to be about slowing down. taking one task at a time. breathing. stretching.





i guess i am still a little lost right now.
pardon the rambles.





currently listening to: nothing. my body can't tolerate music when it's this burdened. it requires too much when i have nothing spare to give, most especially music like radiohead, so all i can take is quiet. quiet. quiet. quiet.

the biggest bitch i know

sometimes change is a mom, giving you a dose of what's best for you with or without a sugar coating that barely covers the taste.
and sometimes change is a friend, sidling up all cozy and snug, walking forward with you into new places.
and sometimes change is a bitch. plain and simple.




if only i weren't still too sick to put up much of a fight.




happy 2011. let it be a little more joyous and restful than the past 8 days have been.

recovering

outside for the first time in the new year. feeling better but also feeling robbed of being aware and present during the shift from one year to the next. while my birthday is a more intimate 'new year' for me, the turning of the year has the weight of the world's awareness behind it and so it feels bigger and more significant.

new years has always been the most spiritual of times for me. spiritual as in of my spirit: where it's been and where it's going.

so, as i recover from strep throat and being achy and miserable during the day, and soaking in sweats at night, i return home to my own space, immaculate from the scrubbing it got on new year's eve all the while trying not to begrudge the 'loss' of the past few days, reminding myself that one of my new year's intentions is to rest and relax more. slow down the frenetic need to accomplish, accomplish, and accomplish that has only served to make me feel like a hamster at its wheel.

poetically enough, i believe i got sick because i have neglected to not only to relax, but also to rest at night during the hours that i know are beneficial to me. staying up till one or two in the morning has become a new habit, completely in service of a never ending to do list. and as much as i tell myself otherwise, i know exactly what i need to do for myself, not only to treat myself well, but also to get where i want to go.

so, cheers to the new year and having the time, space and energy to put into action my knowledge.

happy new year

a lovely night welcoming in the new year, marred slightly by a sore throat that took over as the night progressed delivering aches and a fever to welcome in the new year.

at least the sun is out.

floating

i am avoiding. i am avoiding. i am avoiding. a void. ing. thinking. writing. feeling. making sense. yet all the while hoping to sort out some clarity about the tangle i am in.

tangle. tang. sweet yet tart. tasty. lovely.
mangle. destroy. malign. disfigure.
tang+mangle=tangle.

yep, still avoiding while i'm also being random. or dramatic. take your pick.

so, nathania, what is the dilemma you are avoiding?

the same old story: i do not trust.









men.



well, i do and i don't. but tonight, i have found a lot more don't than do. and it's not so much that i don't trust because i have been hurt {because i have been hurt by people i love and trust so much it hurts in that good, stretchy sort of way} but because i have been hurt by folks {thinking of two specifically} who try to make it my fault for even asking for what, only moments ago, was so freely offered. it's the venom of dishonesty and lash outs that replaced eloquence and invitation and delight. it's the 2nd face i'm afraid of and i can't come out again despite how politely i've just been asked.


so there.

i'm in hiding a little. i guess. and that's okay.

but thanks too for asking so sweetly. if only for pointing out this confusion where the head, the heart and then other, significant bits are pointing in three different directions.





just don't ask me about the other, significant bits. i know where you stand so i'm trying not to tease. honest.

2 am

i've seen a lot of them come and go since early november.
at first i was talking a lot to someone
staying up late to the smell of two spirits, crushing against each other,
but now it's just a bad habit egged on by addictive books and adrenals too worn out to tell what's up and down these days.

so now that i am not getting enough sleep, it's easier to ignore dishes, slough off the assignments i have to do for the artist's way or take myself out on an artist's day, write a few long over due entries on my blog, balance my checkbook, get my expenses in order for taxes. paint. read plays. that sort of thing.

if i'm being harsh, i could judge myself under the umbrella words of avoiding, laziness and self-sabotage, or i can be a little fair and pull out gentler words like resting and hibernating. i need a day off not filled to the brim with family or work. better yet, i need my old two in a row.

and rather than whining about it more, i'm just going to deliver a few random thoughts before turning off the lights and praying for no more bad dreams {said addictive novels involve some scary-ish creatures}:

i used to be envious of my good friend ljl {and she knew about it because she's awesome and i could tell her}. she is lovely and sexy and feminine and as we would stroll down the isles of fremont pcc, i watched in awe as the wine stockers, deli workers and cashiers all fell under her charms. fell?...hmm...melted, actually because you had to douse them with cold water to be able to scrape them up off the floor in one chunk. like a messy puddle of wax.

i wanted men to be attracted to me. i wanted to be charming. and now i'm finding that i have a modest percentage of her capacity. enough to get me in trouble. lose friendships, or at the very least misplace them for an indefinite amount of time. current casualty count since october? 3 or 4 {depending on how you count}.

i am cautious.

the sound of trains at night opens a channel between my heart and the pit of my stomach and somehow my heart always feels a little smaller even after the sound fades and the channel closes.

my body is taxed but unfit to my liking.

i need to be asleep by 11:30pm sharp for the next three months.

i need to refuse any offer of milk-bearing food for the next two months.

i am tired.

i am sore.

i am frustrated and equal parts hopeful.

i am sad you can't meet me for coffee. {i refer to the above 4, no matter which way you count}

but i get to look forward to meeting you for coffee and not making the same mistakes i've made before.

now i must sleep.

merry christmas

a late day sun for you all.
the year is closing.
i have many thoughts ruminating in my head.
but i also have a train wreck of an apartment and a sink full of dishes.

more soon, my loves.

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.

at the picasso exhibit

"it took me four years to paint like raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child."

winter suns return

cloudy days broken by snippets of sun i keep forgetting to document for you all. today, success.

certifiably single

for the first time in nearly two years, i am completely and utterly single. no man is hovering on the horizon. no crushes are waking me up a little extra smiley and chipper in the morning. no nagging regrets about this or that relationship that should have could have worked out if only the stars were three degrees to the left.

nothing.



i



am




s
i
n
g
l
e.


and it's wonderful.
completely wonderful.

rewind

up until the weekend of my birthday party*, i had gained a lot of momentum with the artist's way. things were getting done. progress was a dear friend i spoke to every day. my home space was coming together and my artistic life was taking wing.

but a few things happened in the wake of that project. minor post-project depression {as opposed to it's evil twin, post-partum depression}. escapism. a relationship {of sorts}. and the artist's way stopped.



dead.



sure, i made paltry efforts, but i wasn't getting enough sleep, for some of it i was working 7 days a week 12+ hours a day, and since i wasn't being efficient in a lot of places it was the first thing to fall off. this isn't necessarily a surprising thing. week 8 is where people stop coming to groups, where suddenly it feels like a what's the point mentality takes over and generally where there is a huge hiccup in the process for most people.

but i wasn't completely wasting my time. quite the opposite. i was just diverted into personal growth, though while not directly about the act of creating work, still integral to my sense of self-worth, particularly as a sexual being {mainly, finally finding it in me to realize i do have worth there}, and those things have long been overdue in terms of needing attention and progress.

so here i am, rewinding the chapters back to 8 {the rest of the group is wrapping up chapter 12 at this point and tomorrow is our last meeting}. and i am re-greeted by the section on artistic losses. but with all things artistic, for me at least, the word can be swapped with personal and mean the exact same thing. personal losses are as vital for me to acknowledge as artistic losses when it comes to the safety and clarity of the creative space.


and here i am, ready to move forward in the wake of some personal and artistic losses all wrapped into one. and in the second page of chapter 8, i read:

the criticism that damages an artist {i would substitute person just as easily} is the criticism--well intentioned or ill--that contains no saving kernel of truth yet has a certain damning plausibility or an unassailable blanket judgment that cannot be rationally refuted...
...personal in nature, nebulous as to specifics, this criticism is like covert sexual harassment--a sullying yet hard to quantify experience. the student {person} emerges shamed, feeling like a bad artist, or worse, a fool to try.

i won't explain the specifics, but man, does this paragraph resonate on so many levels in my life currently. so here i am, mourning losses that are personal in nature and moving forward, with the glorious lessons they also taught me still firmly in hand. thank you.




*yes, i still owe you all a post.

spanish sahara

this is my day in a song.
thanks, matt, my second-night-of-thom-york-in-new-york-city friend.




so i walked into the haze
and a million dirty ways
now i see you lying there
like a lilo losing air air

black rocks and shoreline sand
still that summer i cannot bear
and i wipe the sand from my eyes
spanish sahara the place that you´d wanna
leave the horror here
forget the horror here
forget the horror here
leave it all down here
it's future rust and then it´s future dust
forget the horror here
forget the horror here
leave it all down here
it's future rust and then it´s future dust

now the waves they drag you down
carry you to broken ground
though i find you in the sand
wipe you clean with dirty hands

so god damn this boiling space
spanish sahara the place that you´d wanna
leave the horror here
forget the horror here forget the horror here
leave it all down here
it's future rust and then it´s future dust
i'm the fury in your head
i'm the fury in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head

cause i am
i'm the fury in your head
i'm the fury in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head

cause i am
i'm the fury in your head
i'm the fury in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head
cause i am

forget the horror here
forget the horror here
leave it all down here
it's future rust and then it´s future dust
choir of furies in you head
choir of furies in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head

cause i am
choir of furies in you head
choir of furies in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head

cause i am
choir of furies in you head
choir of furies in your bed
i'm the ghost in the back of your head
cause i am

#1 thing i didn't want to learn today:

that the ugly corporation that just bought the gorgeous building {lovingly maintained since 1915} will be renovating it {destroying all its old world charm} and evicting us all under this thing called "just cause eviction." we found this out not because they have given us any notice, but because my neighbor happened to approach an apartment that has already been asked if they have 50 units available for us to start viewing now. they wouldn't be approaching other buildings if they didn't already have all the permits in line.

my heart is breaking.

my beautiful home....

a slice of humble pie

i need to rewind a bit.
essentially backwards two entries to "the letter i wish you had written."
it was out of line.
passive aggressive all wrapped up in pretty paper.

debating deleting it, but for now it'll stay.
painful proof i am not perfect
and still have growing up to do.

suns and silhouettes

much like life these days, the light and dark of things living and breathing side by side.

the letter i wish you had written

dearest nathania,

thank you so much for the time you have given me. it's been a gift, a delight, a light shining down on this turning point in my life that i made in the wake of meeting you. i have enjoyed every moment you've shared with me and all the ones in between.

yet here we are, at a parting of ways, and while i can't possibly explain to your satisfaction the reasons why i can't continue forward in the same direction as we have been going, know that in all the words yet to be spoken {or not}, all the spaces and silences to come, that i don't regret the paths we explored and the time we shared. you are a captivating creature, one that i love and am proud to call a friend.

you have breathed new life into quiet spaces and that has left me gratefully yours,

t.

now switch the names and know that i do find softness to share in hard places, but you don't seem to want it right now, so here it is. perhaps for you to find another time.

two weeks' worth of envelopes

two weeks ago i received the first of the international envelopes to return. yipee for flying across seas & spanning continents and find me. they hailed from ilz, austria and toronto, canada. thank you mom & dad {the latter of whom called and didn't leave a message at 4am austrian time time to ask a question about mixing color}. thank you, cam & princesses lauryn & erin.

the second week followed up much the same with envelopes from england, australia, a few local friends from washington state unable to make it to the party and then another from down under. thank you marcus, tara, martin {and lilian}, sunshine farm {guy, rachel, renae & not to baby jesse}, & sahra!

currently listening to: the mix at my current favorite coffee perch, roy street coffee in north capitol hill.

obstacles & illusions

{to be read as part 2. to the thank{s}taking post on 11.25.2010}

my brother-in-law told me something a few years ago i've never forgotten:

if one person says you're an asshole, they're having a bad day.
if two people say you're an asshole, then you're having a bad day.
if three people say you're an asshole, maybe you're an asshole.

i'm not sure what it is about that lucky number three that makes something stand apart and forces the lesson to be learned, but it's always the third one that seems to drive a point in.

for me, this lesson came in the form of the third man to step up this fall, and not only acknowledge his attraction to me as a woman, but his deep appreciation of.......who.......i.......am : the vivid bits of emotional intensity and color that i have always assumed to be too much for men to get. too much for them to see, too much to enjoy and always and forever too much to appreciate. and yet, here they are. ducks in a row. loving/appreciating me in whatever way they can and i am grateful for that.



because...



because........








because for pretty much my whole life up until about a week ago {almost exactly} i convinced myself that even if i somehow managed to have a scrap of physical attractiveness borrowed from the fine feathers of the moment or perhaps flattering lighting or whatever else i can attribute beyond the inherent physical quality of my body, that even then, my overwhelming beingness of nathania would be too much for men. they would turn away before blinded or drowned {pick your metaphor as long as it's negative}.

and that's how i've walked forward in my life. step by self-negating step. and as much as my confidence has grown and i have even lived into wonderful moments of true feminine boldness, the fundamental belief i had for myself was always as above.

but the first stepped forward in october, the second in november, and now, a week ago, toeing the line of december, a third man moved toward me, however briefly, to whisper my worth to him into my ear, reminding me one last time of something i should have already learned long ago:

that men are capable of seeing the full dimensions of my beauty
&
that mine is a beauty that lasts.

so here i am. marveling at this new self-perspective that i wear quite well on some days, and fold-up and put back on the shelf on others. but it's slowly incorporating itself into my being and i can be patient in the meantime.

and now the other similarity between these men: despite their ability to look at the full brilliance of me and smile into the warmth of my sun, there are things getting between us. the first, the obstacle is himself, the second, one timezone, two mountain ranges & more than a few states, and the third, simply the product of a misalignment of time and space that whispers a faint chorus of what if. but here we are. apart. and that's okay.

because:

i have also discovered i can be more patient about this than ever before, because for the first time i don't feel the threat that the apartness is somehow linked to my worth {or lack thereof} but rather to what i believe to be a complex network of chance and fate. and one day, there will be a one man and no obstacles and we will be brilliant, each on our own, and together.




currently listening to: any other name -- thomas newman

a return

it should come as no surprise that he came to me, but it was, even though i should know that he always returns when i do.*

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

last night, i flipped a bird to my dirty dishes i need to wash, my checkbook i need to balance, my bills i need to pay, my neat piles of laundry that need to be hand-washed, mended or ironed, and even the next chapter of the artist's way that i need to read; all insulted in order that i could paint. it's been a while since my creative self has been used. maxed out in the wake of creating and distributing a wide scale {for me} collaborative project {yes, i think just about everyone's received their envelope finally, so i'll announce the details soon}, i went dormant for a while. hibernating in extended phone calls and novel-length text messages to the friend i announced meeting on the same day the first envelope was returned {see here if you've forgotten}.

and what a lovely return it was. one that no matter how many times i make it, it never ceases to surprise me how effortless it is to be alive in creative spaces. and alive in a way that only today, i was able to articulate that is not possession of creativity, or my ability to create, but merely in a state of perpetual wardenship to this force that i present myself to and it passes through me, bypassing all conscious decision-making skills and dialoging only with a set of pre-verbal instincts that are crystal clear in their process from intention to manifestation, even if they don't let me in on the process. the painting last night happened and suddenly i'm ready to place the finishing touches on it and how did i even get there? it was thrilling.

and so, last night, as my reward, or rather as proof of reuniting me with my creative self, thom yorke paid a visit. it was backstage after a concert and somehow i was there slightly on the sly. i was hoping no one would notice and kick me out. he was taking care of post-show business including signing stacks of posters fans had put out for him to autograph. i had slipped a few into the stack and he asked me to help him pick out which ones to sign. i noticed he had already selected mine and somewhat flattered, i had gone through the stack picking out the most interesting looking posters {one from the bends, one from hail to the thief, etc. it was this quiet bonding time that was interrupted when others joined us. there was talk of future concerts and he invited another person present {randomly i think it was someone i knew from highschool} who had been helping him to come backstage the next time he was in seattle. my reaction of shock and awe was such that he turned to me and included me in the invitation. that somehow opened a door between us and suddenly we're talking about the spring tour, coachella, the magic of the 2nd new york city show and i saw that he got it. he got me. i wasn't shy or nervous, i just was, and he appreciated it. and when they asked him who he'd like to drive him back to the hotel, he gestured to me and said her and i realized he didn't even know my name yet, which was fine, he would.

there was more, and i woke up after and had the sudden mid-night-mid-morning-too-early urge to get up and write it all down, because this was the closest we have ever been and it was a relief.



*again, i feel i should repeat in case the reader forgets, i know that thom yorke in my dreams is not about the man, thom yorke, but the idea of the penultimate artist that he represents.

currently listening to: fog - radiohead

i'm behind

i owe you many stories. many words. many moments.

but tonight is mine and it's reserved for sufjan stevens and painting.






see you tomorrow? perhaps.