Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Wandering Wednesdays: Where I Want to Be & What I Would Bring

I am starting my first series on the blog called "Wandering Wednesdays." With my newfound free time, I hope to do more traveling and to use those experiences in order to develop my photography, which will mean lots of fun posts and pictures on the blog. For now, however, I am only dreaming up these adventurous schemes. For the next few weeks, I will be sharing the places I want to go and what I would bring. First up is...









The land of my ancestors! I am applying for a summer program that would take me all around this incredible country from June 26-July 26, so hopefully my travel dream will soon become a reality. In the mean time, we can all look at these photos and fantasize about a world of bagpipes and rustic castles and scenery so beautiful that it will take your breath away.

If I were to travel to Scotland, this is what I would bring:


A pair of Hunter boots, for puddle jumping and exploring the countryside (and maybe even capturing the attention of a dashing Scotsman? I can hope...). These babies run around $125, but every once in awhile,  Gilt features them for more like $75. They sell out quickly on Gilt, so I have yet to buy a pair. But I am keeping my eyes open, and I may just splurge before I go to Scotland.


This Fisherman's pullover from American Apparel. It looks cozy, and I love the bright solid colors (you can choose from sixteen of them!). I can picture myself sleeping under the Scottish stars, going on a cliffside hike, or curling up by a fire in this sweater.


A snazzy new camera for taking pictures of the breathtaking places I visit and the beautiful people I meet.


And, last but not least, a crumpled city map of Edinburgh, so that I can look cool while find my way (and not have to carry around an awkward paper map).


That wraps it up for this week, folks! Where would you like to be right now? And what would you bring?

Tune in next Wednesday, when I share another place that I have been dreaming of.

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Monday, February 20, 2012

Goosebumps



I am always so thankful for the things that inspire me and send goosebumps running up and down my arms. There is nothing like the feeling of experiencing or seeing something that makes the world seem like a more complete place. Good writing does that for me. Like the writing of Nicole Krauss and Jonathan Safran Foer, both of whom I have become obsessed with as of late. I have only read Nicole Krauss's The History of Love (which was brilliant and beautiful and will be one of my favorite books for my entire life; I can tell already). I have read nothing of Jonathan Safran Foer's, though I fully intend on ordering all of his books in the next few days. However, I have spent a good amount of time reading their quotes on Goodreads and just marveling at their words. They are the kinds of writers who, in one fell swoop, inspire me to write just in case I can someday make another person feel the way that they have made me feel, and make me never want to write again because I don't know how to say what they have already managed to say so beautifully. (They are also married, and their quotes about love are so fearlessly true that I just know it reflects on their love for each other.)

So, without further ado, here are the things that made me happy today:

This quote from Jonathon Safran Foer's most well-known book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (the movie has my vote for Best Picture, too--if you haven't seen it, go now!).

This conversation between Foer and Joyce Carol Oates, from the Princeton lecture series.

This beautiful, authentic post from one of my favorite bloggers.

And, finally, this poem by Mary Oliver, which was listed at the end of Joanna's blog post. I hope that you always believe in the truth of what it says.

Before I say "sweet dreams" and leave for the night, I just want to tell those of you readers who have followed me: thank you. I have loved the opportunity to work on this blog and to have a chance to share my thoughts. You words and comments mean the world to me.

(Image here.)

Friday, February 17, 2012

Finding Evening

I was inspired recently to write about a moment that I had while babysitting the summer of my freshman year. Part of why I love spending time with children is that it gives me the opportunity to see the world from a different perspective, and this is one of favorite babysitting memories for that reason.































Cody kneels down in the backyard where the sun is setting, and he shows me where an anthill is peeking out from between clay slabs. I rest on my knees. I watch the way that the little legs wobble, search for the things that they are carrying back home, wonder about the way that they gather into formation, wonder about the stragglers who come from different directions. Madilyn wanders over to see what we are watching. We all stare. I say something that I really mean, words that are a product of being mesmerized by the same thing that they are mesmerized by. In my memory, it seems that maybe I found the right words, but who knows if I did? We watch together.

As a babysitter, it is often disheartening to realize that I am playing games with the kids not out of the same enjoyment that they feel, but out of a desire to make them happy. I remember what it was like to be a child and to never tire of playing pirates, and sometimes I catch a glimpse of that feeling when I introduce a new game to Cody and Madilyn—like “Toasty World” or building our own Great Wall of China—but I always grow tired long before their yelps of laughter and fake seizures and calls for me to chase after them wear out.

I didn’t feel that way watching the ants. It may sound silly and it may sound cliché. I realized that even as I was experiencing it. But I still cared about the ants. I still wanted to be able to watch them. The sky was turning purple, and I was kneeling outside feeling the same way that a child does at the end of the day, and I wanted to tell Cody and Madilyn that I understood, that it never has to end, that I loved the way that they saw these things and I was so grateful that they had showed me, too. We went inside. The ants made their way to the mound, where I used to imagine that all of the ants had separate rooms where some of the wives were having babies, and that the Queen had the largest room of all, and the journeying ants were always relieved to finally reach her.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Happy Valentine's Day

I hope that you had a fabulous day of love! I am always so struck by the mixed feelings that Valentine's Day produces (particularly in my Facebook friends). For me, this was definitely a year of feeling grateful that a day exists to celebrate everyone who I love. I am glad that I have friends who I can laugh on the phone with while searching Wal-Mart for the Redbox machine. It makes me happy to watch my boss receive a bouquet of flowers at work, sent by her husband. It is fun to pass people on the street on my way to work and wonder about the someones who they love, and if they have plans tonight, or if they are feeling lonely instead. I think that everyone is more aware of love on Valentine's Day--more aware of how badly we all need to feel it.

My Valentine's Day gift to you is a link to my favorite essay, a beautiful exploration of the heart called Joyas Voladoras. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have every single time that I read it.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Impact Moments

Tonight, it is snowing in Santa Fe, and I am sitting at my desk in that stupor that I always enter into after leaving a movie theater. I went to see The Vow tonight, expecting it to be one of those lighthearted movies that you escape into for an hour and a half and shrug off the moment you leave. But it actually got me thinking about some things.

Channing Tatum's character in the movie, Leo, speaks about impact moments. Those times in your life when something happens, or you make a decision, that shapes who you are. The inevitable question that is raised, then, is what happens if you can't remember those impact moments?

For his wife, who loses five years of her memory after colliding with the windshield during a car accident, not remembering those impact moments means that she wakes up a different person than she was before the accident. She cannot remember the past five years of her life, and all of the decisions that she made during that time, in her mind, have not been made. She has not been shaped by those decisions, or by their effects.

Beginning to homeschool was an impact moment for me. Obviously, it changed my life and everything that comes after in a very basic way. But it also changed the way that I look at the world. When I decided to not allow the straight A, overachiever inside of me to control my life, I started wanting different things out of that life. On a daily basis, I am responding to situations differently than I would have before. I am becoming a different person than I would have been if the road had branched off in another direction. If I were to wake up with no memory of this latest decision, would I be the person who I was before it, instead of the one who I am now?

I believe, wholeheartedly, that life should be an adventure. We should make decisions based on love and curiosity, not fear and external pressure. In a grand life, in a life well-lived, there are many, many impact moments. The road branches off so many times that the original path is lost, yet life still maintains focus and direction. Everything happens the way that it was always meant to.

What is one recipe for an impact moment? Deciding to question the statements that no longer make sense, the ones that we have heard so often that they seem to be unbreakable rules, despite the fact that, when questioned, they don't make sense anymore.

What I want for myself, and for you, is this: dare to live a beautiful life, an adventurous life, a life that is unplanned and open to spontaneity, but still focused around what really matters to you. If ever you shall find yourself thrust into a windshield on a snowy day, and wake up with significant brain trauma, at least the past few years of your life will have been worth remembering. At least they will have shaped you in some way that is a shame to forget.

(Photo via Teen.com)

Friday, February 10, 2012

When the Theater Seats are Empty

In theater, I have often heard people talk about the importance of having an audience during performances. The laughter of the audience feeds the actors, encouraging them to be even more outrageous, even more confident in their jokes, if the play is a comedy. The hushes and sighs and gasps and tears of the audience, if the play is a tragedy, help the actors to remain somber and focused. Suddenly they are not just acting out the assassination of Abraham Lincoln or the death of Antigone--they are recreating it, and it is tragic, and it is powerful because people feel it.

I wonder if blogs are the same way. I think that it is possible to write a really beautiful blog without readers. After all, this is what we do with our journals and with the pieces of writing that never become anything. They exist as creative expressions, soul talk, and it doesn't matter that no one ever reads them because someone needed, at some point, to write them. 

But I have to admit that a blog with readers feels more complete. It is like a house with people in all of the rooms, or even an entire neighborhood with people living in all of the houses and congregating in the streets for block parties. You are never alone. Your neighbors are sharing in your joys and your failures. They really want to see the new pictures of your baby. Some of them want to help you pick out paint samples, but others are interested in the more important things. They want to know about the worst night in your life, and also the best night. They want to know what you worry about, and if you have realized yet that you don't deserve to worry about anything.

When you live in an empty house, it is so much easier to spend the day watching TV or taking afternoon naps. If you see a funny commercial on TV, or you have an interesting dream during your nap, you may turn to an empty space on the couch or wander out of your bedroom expecting to find someone who you can tell, and when there is no one, it is one of life's most silent sadnesses. But there are other times when the aloneness helps you to be who you really are, and you find yourself walking around humming a tune or running to the kitchen because you are just so excited to break into a carton of ice cream. 

I am really looking forward to the day when I will be writing this blog to someone--and if you are reading this, then know that it is for you. For now, however, I am also going to write this blog for myself, because sometimes it is fun to laugh at a good commercial even when no one is there to share it with you. 

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Wherever I'm With You







This is home. Not the home where I live, but the home that feels like home. This is Nicky in the white converse and Joanna in the black boots. These are photos that were fun to take because we were having fun already. 

I went to back to Nebraska for winter break, and I am going there again later this month, for an orthodontist appointment and a much-needed stay at Nicky's house. I used to live in a tiny town where the streets felt safe, and the movie theater was warm inside, with friends working the counter. I can describe all of the restaurants to you by my favorite foods. (The best thing to do in a small town, and sometimes the only thing to do, is to eat, am I right?) 

I am getting nostalgic. Anyway, the trip to Nebraska will be my first real roadtrip by myself, and I am looking forward to playing old Fleetwood Mac CDs and this song by Edwarde Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes. I can't wait to watch the mountains and drylands of New Mexico give way into the open plains and sunsets of Nebraska. 

One week before I leave, and it will be a busy one becauseeee...I got the job! I start tomorrow. 

Any advice for my first day? Or roadtrippin' tips? I'd love to hear. :) 

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Still Frames


Today, I slept in until 10 AM. I had time to eat breakfast. I warmed up soup for lunch and made a smoothie for dessert. I marveled at the way that the streets look in the midday sun. It felt like summer. Or like the weekend in Nebraska, when I used to go out and do interesting things instead of locking myself in my dark room (lair may be a more appropriate word) to do homework. 

I love homeschooling/unschooling already, and I am only three days in. Taking Grace Llewellyn's advice in The Teenage Liberation Handbook, I am allowing myself a chance to bask in my newfound freedom and surges of creativity before I dive headfirst into my self-designed curriculum. 

But things have been happening naturally, of their own accord. I found a Craigslist ad for a job as an assistant/writer at a company that helps small businesses develop their social media outreach, and I am applying tomorrow (wish me luck). I went to tea with my English teacher to discuss Sense & Sensibility, and she offered to continue working with me, even though I have withdrawn from the school.

I am happy, and that is something that I have not been able to say for a long time. The still frames of my life are more honest, more inherently me, than they have been in a long, long time. 

I am standing inside a cafe sniffing beautiful, colorful, floral teas inside their glass jars. I am driving across town listening to the radio. I am writing my first post to you, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever your dreams and your imperfections and the beauty inside of you. 

Let's go on an adventure together. 





(Photo by Nirrimi Hakanson)