two:thirteen

last night i slept like a rock. a heavy, dead rock. limbs numb to the cold-legs wrapped tightly-wholly unaware of the tick-tick-ticking-constant clock. i slept so heavy i didn’t remember any dreams i may have dreamt. tonight however, i can hardly shut my eyes long enough to blink. i keep think-think-thinking-constant thoughts. they are loud, obnoxious thoughts of what if and why not. i need cotton balls in my ears and a straight jacket on my mind.

i need to be creating.

something with something. anything.

it has to happen or i will just turn inside-out.  i can feel it coming.

my brain and body are filled with stuff

(a collage of colour-sounds-texture-feelings-and a little bit of glue)

it’s going to start coming out of these fragile fingers-if it’s the last thing i do.

flying pips

my friend pips is a fantastic artist. i really love this recent piece of hers.

twentyten

sunday i went on a drive.

a windows-down, hand-out, fingers-riding-ocean-air-at-fifty-miles-per-hour, music-so-loud-and-so-perfect-i-can’t-hear-myself-think kind of drive. it was good to shut my self up for a bit. to shut out my thoughts/questions/concerns and internal rebuttals long enough to just breath deep and not worry. to love life and to be happy appreciating it.

01_Little_Lovin.mp3

this lissie song accompanied my drive.

pro…crast…inat…ing.

sometimes when life and i are staring eachother square in the face i get paralyzed

like a stupid deer in the headlights of a machine much bigger and far more powerful than my trembling little limbs

but those shaking legs were made to be quick

so i must move.

if i were a drawing

i did not draw this

check out www.blublu.org for more insanely good art  

messy thoughts in smeared ink

i’ve never been great at keeping journals, diaries, web logs…ehem…

something about going back to old thoughts is really, very embarrassing for me. in high school i would rip nearly every page out of my sketch journals and erased anything i ever wrote down. part of me wishes i didn’t insist on destroying all evidence of any thought i ever have but an even bigger, and much more dominating part of me wishes i were capable of creating, thinking, being something more original or at least something worth looking at twice. 

i was cleaning out an old purse earlier and found this old green suede journal i used to keep as a sort of sketch diary of the happenings of my days. i made note of good days, bad days and doodled whatever seemed fitting.

some of the pages took everything in me not to remove, other pages i couldn’t help but rip out quickly. many were full of messy thoughts in smeared ink, little of which made any sense to me reading them today. one in particular made all the sense in the world.

10.10.08 read the following:

• sometimes decisions are made and it’s like you hardly did any of the deciding.
• sometimes the next step makes sense before you even think to move your feet.
• these times are refreshing, like mountain air.

05.07.09 might read something a little more like this:

• sometimes decisions are made that look nothing like the ones you would make.
• sometimes no step seems to make much sense but you’ve got to put your foot down somewhere.
• these times suck. this air is suffocating.
• i need a more organized way to organize my thoughts.
• note to self… rip this page out and throw it away

…

…

i am that girl and i hate that girl.

little potted parables

this week i’ve been staying at my friends’ house while they’re off galavanting in vegas. i don’t have much responsibility while i’m here aside from tending to the newly planted strawberries…

…and by ‘tending’ to them i only mean, ‘squirting some water on them periodically so as not to kill them’.

i don’t know exactly what it is, but for some reason i’ve always felt that i identify with strawberries… perhaps it’s their freckles or their bruise-easy nature. nonetheless, something about them reminds me of myself.

right now they are hardly a sprout but if treated correctly they should be plump, red and tasty in no time (this, for the record, is definitely not what i identify with in strawberries).

these little seeds didn’t ask to be planted, watered or well lit by the sun… they are simply doing what is expected of them with what they’ve been given. they didn’t prearrange the type of soil they would planted in, they don’t prearrange their positioning to the sun after being planted and they have no way of defending themselves against predator birds once they’re full grown. they simply are where they are doing what they do and hopefully, one day, they will be saturating a big piece of angel food cake.

today’s soundtrack pick:

strawberry swing- coldplay

un-stacking my load

this post is not overdue. it’s perfectly timed on this perfect day- this semi snowy-bed headed day. everything is wonderful. somedays you just have to stop trying to see everything in it’s bigness and simply appreciate what is right here, right now. i love my sheets. 

today’s soundtrack pick:

bon iver- re: stacks