Quotes.

Brassaï.

I have a good excuse...

I've been horrible at posting. But, as you can see, I have a pretty good excuse…

We're having a baby!!!!

keep still. [on a wednesday evening]

I don't remember the last time I was here... It's all merging together. Converging. Congealing. Pooling. Bleeding out. I don't remember the last time I stopped to ask how I felt. I just do or I don't.
And with my darling blooming, I just try to keep it so very still. But, there are hurricanes dancing all around. These chaotic winds threatening underneath. But, outside I wish that it would all start pouring. The warmer and cooler currents colliding in the sky. Bursts of lightning. It would calm me down. I could keep still.

It's the first time, I let them have their way. It's the first time I've wept uncontrollably. It's the first time I've been so angry I could see stars before sunset. My nerves are raw. Screamed like a banshee.  It wasn't deserved. But I'm not sorry. Even they can feel it. My little guardians milling around my legs. The neighbors probably suspect I'm insane. In this condition.

In your condition.

Everyone believes you're speaking on some obvious level, but you aren't.
Even now, you are connecting the dots.
The picture seems accurate, but it isn't.

A handwritten letter from the doctor's office nearly made me cry. A couple of sentences and symbols probably sent from a mobile device halfway round the world made me smile.
I guess I crave some sort of nearness.
Held.
But, just spiraling farther and father and farther and farther with this brave face painted on.
Hidden.
Blame it on the sickness, the circumstance, the life, the death...
But, it's that deep wound. That place you thought was healed...
Now pulsing with the all too familiar ache.
It's a myriad of memories in a tomb sealed shut... flung wide open.
The shroud of doubt.
The moment when innocence was stolen.
How she wept in the floor, and i spoke the tongues of angels.
The walls I mastered.
The walls that fell.
The deep betrayal.
Répéter
Always in echoes.
I forgave.
And berate my memory for its inability to forget.
And the wide open space I painted...
running down the walls I've built.
Walled in.
Hemmed in.
Quiet down.
Or shout out loud.
But, find me here.
The way it is.
Not how it seems.
And make it still.

Treat yo self.

I Theodora You.

Just being all T-Rex with the new polish. 

in bloom.

color board - spring/summer 2013

Tis the season, when the deep jewel tones of winter, get a little bit lighter and brighter in the sunshine.

...and so it would seem that spring is seeping into everything. 

including my typically monochromatic wardrobe.

hello spring.

baby marley.

real talk.

via  - vadrouiller

once upon a dream...

long curly hair, plaid shirt, jeans and puma classics singin' love songs. precisely what i wanted to be when i grew up. also, the guys in this video are ridiculous.

ctrl+alt+del

Sometimes you just need to do a little spring cleaning.

A little revamping.

Restart.

In fact, the theme for the upcoming year at work is, "Classic Reinvented" - the idea being that we take all of the staples, the classic things that we love and take a new approach.
I love it and I accept the challenge.

And so, rather than just doing away with this blog and beginning a new one from scratch...

perhaps it's just the right time for a little bit of renovation.

My mind is humming.

with sounds...

with ideas...

with songs...

with words...

with flavors...

with notes...

with colors...

and shapes...

and so, friends

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Here's to a new beginning.

love.

love versus fear.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
Antonyms.
The opposite of light is dark.
The opposite of happy is sad.
The opposite of up is down.
The opposite of love is hate.
Wait...
I can honestly say that I'm not sure if I've ever hated anyone until moving to this city. And there are a couple of people, I've regarded with such scorn... with such distain... I couldn't care less what becomes of them. I've resented them. I hang them on the gallows of judgement in my heart as often as their names come to mind. And I've cursed the day they came into my life.
Easy. I don't love them.
More than all of that, I'm concerned with the condition of my heart that would allow it.
I've never been that way.
However, I've never been hurt so deeply.
And so the argument goes.
The pendulum swings.
The storm rages, and I just sort wait.
I've also heard that the opposite of love is, actually fear. And perhaps, the fear gives way to hate...

There are people who will always annoy you. Would you wish them harm? Certainly not. Your personalities simply clash and it's harder to get along. But, almost always you can find something... at least one thing to tie your two broken selves together. Something to relate to.

I have seriously hated some people.

And throughout the last couple of days, someone has decided that enough is enough.
A dawn has begun to creep up through the horizon of my rather gloomy sky.

"What is it, about the ones you hate that scares you so badly?"
"What is it that you fear about them?"

It's really one of those rhetorical questions.
Just the asking is like a spotlight on a stage.
The dark night of the soul has ended... and there's that slow reveal of sunrise...
Where can you hide from that sort of revelation?

I'm afraid they'll steal what matters most to me.
I'm fearful of the effect their negativity or their reckless and careless behavior will have on me or on the ones I love.
I'm afraid of losing.
I'm fearful of being hurt... that deeply... ever... EVER again.

It's not a shaking in your boots kind of fear, but an all-encompassing terror that blocks out reason. You cut off this part of your life; of your heart... you attempt to isolate the parts that have been maimed by this person, and you salvage what you can, harden it, and the rest you begin building a coffin... a tomb where it can all die. The memories, the good, the bad, the feelings... every last attachment... in order to eradicate all of the wrong from your life.

You really do mean well.

But it all sort of festers into this bitterness and resentment, and the next thing you know, you've buried all of yourself and you're just waiting to disappear.

Love versus fear.

It's not even a real match. It's a joke really, because love will always win...

You may even vow that it won't; but sure enough on some unsuspecting day in the middle of the week, it will whisper a question when you take a moment to quiet down...

and say, "i'm with you. so, why are you afraid?"

lay me down to sleep.

half awake. half asleep.
staring at the ceiling
stucco sort of texture
geometrics
and the smudges
it's equally fascinating and disconcerting -
how many lives were lived in this space
the good, the bad, the memories created here
in this very same place that i call home
the imprints
"if the walls could talk..."
or make their own history book
and i'm really thankful they don't talk, sometimes
funny the way we hide behind walls
undress
disclose our hearts
minds
souls
facades set aside
behind closed doors
all of these thoughts were so loud
i could barely hear the hum of the ceiling fan
i couldn't get comfortable
i couldn't resolve to get out of bed
so i just let my thoughts weave their webs
of hope
of discouragement
i just stopped talking myself out of things
no need to fake it
and i missed the early days, a little
when you'd coax me to release my worries
like balloons to the sky
and i speak calm to your troubled mind
ok with being present...
happy... content to be here
because beyond a shadow of a doubt;
it's where i'm supposed to be
because sometimes i'm so very uncertain
sometimes...
before falling
sinking
down to sleep.

throwback thursday.

once upon a time, i went on a european tour with these boys... 

and was on a fun roster of artists on an indie label in the UK.

 

i found the diary i kept for the bulk of the tour. most of the girls i met on tour were a bit off-standish, to say the least... silly, really. eight legs used to decorate their shirts with electrical tape. and so, one girl in berlin gave me a heart on a piece of tape.

just reminiscing on my day off.

run.

it just creeps up on you.
ambling along
no right or wrong
it gets awfully heavy, awfully fast.
a sort of song without words
like displaced child without a name
another unrequited moment
another wild love tamed
and where did the waves go?
got the spins for the first time
how gravity pushes down so
eyes full of stars and blurred lines
and they waited in silence at the top of the stairs
too many voices
too many tongues
too many predictions
and warnings to run.
limbs stretched take the mark
wait for the sound of the gun
i'll perceive it in a whisper,
spring up from the lunge
and you'll swear with those deafened ears
"i heard no sound,
but air in waiting lungs"
and there it undulates
like the mind of a crowd
waiting to rise up
waiting to fall down
i watched them sign their name on the lines
happily paying erroneous fines
and here the fear has spelled out lies
between the truths
breaking ties
and what seemed like a sweet release;
was but a death wish
granted.
and they never felt quite so alive
viewpoint.
skewed.
slanted.
painting lines of grief upon their lover's face
and cause their weary grieving mind to
make up a kinder place
but, force yourself to lay here
be present in the wake
sink into the silence
and don't let it break
wrapped up in some eternal tale
ignoring how it seems
and against the odds
onward
singing
all will be made right
in this
in me.